#And he's only ahead by one skill level

[pushing500]

Watching pacifist, bad-at-melee, has-a-mental-break-if-she-has-to-hold-a-weapon Vu try to teach genetically engineered supersoldier, warhammer-wielding, powerhouse child Henry about melee skills was kind of fun.

Randy Random clearly thinks my thrumbo army is too powerful and needs to be put out of commission for a while.

Unfortunately, I am running quite low on medicine after the recent space battle and the last bout of gut worms, so hopefully, we can buy some more from a trader soon.

I think in Wookshys' case, the "flirting frenzy" inspiration just means he's going to dote on his wife extra hard for eight days. Something for Albina to look forward to, I'm sure.

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[crescentmp3]

my god. help my soul

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap

I'm going to go ahead and preface this with: I comment pretty regularly on clips and photos featuring horses and horseback riding, often answering questions or providing explanations for how or why certain things are done. I was a stable hand and barrel racer growing up, and during my 11 year tenure on tumblr, Professional Horse Commentary is a very niche, yet very necessary, subject that needs filling. Here are some of the literary and creative gaps I've noticed in well meaning (and very good!) creators trying to portray horses and riding realistically that... well, most of you don't seem to even be aware of, because you wouldn't know unless you worked with horses directly!

Some Of The Most Common Horse + Riding Mistakes I See:

-Anybody can ride any horse if you hold on tight enough/have ridden once before.

Nope. No, no, no, no, aaaaaaaand, no. Horseback riding has, historically, been treated as a life skill taught from surprisingly young ages. It wasn't unusual in the pre-vehicular eras to start teaching children as young as 4 to begin to ride, because horses don't come with airbags, and every horse is different. For most adults, it can take months or years of regular lessons to learn to ride well in the saddle, and that's just riding; not working or practicing a sport.

Furthermore, horses often reject riders they don't know. Unless a horse has been trained like a teaching horse, which is taught to tolerate riders of all skill and experience levels, it will take extreme issue with having some random person try to climb on their back. Royalty, nobility, and the knighted classes are commonly associated with the "having a favorite special horse" trope, because it's true! Just like you can have a particularly special bond with a pet or service animal that verges on parental, the same can apply with horses. Happy horses love their owners/riders, and will straight-up do their best to murder anyone that tries to ride them without permission.

-Horses are stupid/have no personality.

There isn't a more dangerous assumption to make than assuming a horse is stupid. Every horse has a unique personality, with traits that can be consistent between breeds (again, like cat and dog breeds often have distinct behavior traits associated with them), but those traits manifest differently from animal to animal.

My mother had an Arabian horse, Zipper, that hated being kicked as a signal to gallop. One day, her mom and stepdad had a particularly unpleasant visitor; an older gentleman that insisted on riding Zipper, but refused to listen to my mother's warnings never to kick him. "Kicking" constitutes hitting the horse's side(s) with your heels, whether you have spurs on or not. Most horses only need a gentle squeeze to know what you want them to do.

Anyway, Zipper made eye-contact with my mom, asking for permission. He understood what she meant when she nodded at him. He proceeded to give this asshole of a rider road rash on the side of the paddock fence and sent him to the emergency room. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't have the permission from the rider he respected, and was intelligent enough to ask, "mind if I teach this guy a lesson?" with his eyes, and understand, "Go for it, buddy," from my mom in return.

-Riding bareback is possible to do if you hold onto the horse's mane really tight.

Riding a horse bareback (with no saddle, stirrups, or traditional harness around the horse's head) is unbelievably difficult to learn, particularly have testicles and value keeping them. Even professional riders and equestrians find ourselves relying on tack (the stuff you put on a horse to ride it) to stay stable on our horses, even if we've been riding that particular horse for years and have a very positive, trusting relationship.

Horses sweat like people do. The more they run, the more their hair saturates with sweat and makes staying seated on them slippery. Hell, an overworked horse can sweat so heavily that the saddle slips off its back. It's also essential to brush and bathe a horse before it's ridden in order to keep it healthier, so their hair is often quite slick from either being very clean or very damp. In order to ride like that, you have to develop the ability to synchronize your entire body's rhythm's with the rhythm of the horse's body beneath you, and quite literally move as one. Without stirrups, most people can't do it, and some people can never master bareback riding no matter how many years they spend trying to learn.

-You can be distracted and make casual conversation while a horse is standing untethered in the middle of a barn or field.

At every barn I've ever worked at, it's been standard practice with every single horse, regardless of age or temperament, to secure their heads while they're being tacked up or tacked down. The secures for doing this are simple ropes with clips that are designed to attach to the horse's halter (the headwear for a horse that isn't being ridden; they have no bit that goes in the horse's mouth, and no reins for a rider to hold) on metal O rings on either side of the horse's head. This is not distressing to the horse, because we give them plenty of slack to turn their heads and look around comfortably.

The problem with trying to tack up an unrestrained horse while chatting with fellow stable hands or riders is that horses know when you're distracted! And they often try to get away with stuff when they know you're not looking! In a barn, a horse often knows where the food is stored, and will often try to tiptoe off to sneak into the feed room.

Horses that get into the feed room are often at a high risk of dying. While extremely intelligent, they don't have the ability to throw up, and they don't have the ability to tell that their stomach is full and should stop eating. Allowing a horse into a feed/grain room WILL allow it to eat itself to death.

Other common woes stable hands and riders deal with when trying to handle a horse with an unrestrained head is getting bitten! Horses express affection between members of their own herd, and those they consider friends and family, through nibbling and surprisingly rough biting. It's not called "horseplay" for nothing, because during my years working with horses out in the pasture, it wasn't uncommon at all for me to find individuals with bloody bite marks on their withers (that high part on the middle of the back of their shoulders most people instinctively reach for when they try to get up), and on their backsides. I've been love-bitten by horses before, and while flattering, they hurt like hell on fleshy human skin.

So, for the safety of the horse, and everybody else, always make a show of somehow controlling the animal's head when hands-on and on the ground with them.

-Big Horse = War Horse

Startlingly, the opposite is usually the case! Draft and carriage horses, like Percherons and Friesians, were never meant to be used in warfare. Draft horses are usually bred to be extremely even-tempered, hard to spook, and trustworthy around small children and animals. Historically, they're the tractors of the farm if you could afford to upgrade from oxen, and were never built to be fast or agile in a battlefield situation.

More importantly, just because a horse is imposing and huge doesn't make it a good candidate for carrying heavy weights. A real thing that I had to be part of enforcing when I worked at a teaching ranch was a weight limit. Yeah, it felt shitty to tell people they couldn't ride because we didn't have any horses strong enough to carry them due to their weight, but it's a matter of the animal's safety. A big/tall/chonky horse is more likely to be built to pull heavy loads, but not carry them flat on their spines. Horses' muscular power is predominantly in their ability to run and pull things, and too heavy a rider can literally break a horse's spine and force us to euthanize it.

Some of the best war horses out there are from the "hot blood" family. Hot blooded horses are often from dry, hot, arid climates, are very small and slight (such as Arabian horses), and are notoriously fickle and flighty. They're also a lot more likely to paw/bite/kick when spooked, and have even sometimes been historically trained to fight alongside their rider if their rider is dismounted in combat; kicking and rearing to keep other soldiers at a distance.

-Any horse can be ridden if it likes you enough.

Just like it can take a lifetime to learn to ride easily, it can take a lifetime of training for a horse to comfortably take to being ridden or taking part in a job, like pulling a carriage. Much like service animals, horses are typically trained from extremely young ages to be reared into the job that's given to them, and an adult horse with no experience carrying a rider is going to be just as scared as a rider who's never actually ridden a horse.

Just as well, the process of tacking up a horse isn't always the most comfortable experience for the horse. To keep the saddle centered on the horse's back when moving at rough or fast paces, it's essential to tighten the belly strap (cinch) of the saddle as tightly as possible around the horse's belly. For the horse, it's like wearing a tight corset, chafes, and even leaves indents in their skin afterward that they love having rinsed with water and scratched. Some horses will learn to inflate their bellies while you're tightening the cinch so you can't get it as tight as it needs to be, and then exhale when they think you're done tightening it.

When you're working with a horse wearing a bridle, especially one with a bit, it can be a shocking sensory experience to a horse that's never used a bit before. While they lack a set of teeth naturally, so the bit doesn't actually hurt them, imagine having a metal rod shoved in your mouth horizontally! Unless you understand why it's important for the person you care about not dying, you'd be pretty pissed about having to keep it in there!

-Horseback riding isn't exercise.

If you're not using every muscle in your body to ride with, you're not doing it right.

Riding requires every ounce of muscle control you have in your entire body - although this doesn't mean it wasn't realistic for people with fat bodies to stay their weight while also being avid riders; it doesn't mean the muscles aren't there. To stay on the horse, you need to learn how it feels when it moves at different gaits (walk, trot, canter, gallop), how to instruct it to switch leads (dominant legs; essential for precise turning and ease of communication between you and the horse), and not falling off. While good riders look like they're barely moving at all, that's only because they're good riders. They know how to move so seamlessly with the horse, feeling their movements like their own, that they can compensate with their legs and waists to not bounce out of the saddle altogether or slide off to one side. I guarantee if you ride a horse longer than 30 minutes for the first time, your legs alone will barely work and feel like rubber.

-Horses aren't affectionate.

Horses are extraordinarily affectionate toward the right people. As prey animals, they're usually wary of people they don't know, or have only recently met. They also - again, like service animals - have a "work mode" and a "casual mode" depending upon what they're doing at the time. Horses will give kisses like puppies, wiggle their upper lips on your hair/arms to groom you, lean into neck-hugs, and even cuddle in their pasture or stall if it's time to nap and you join them by leaning against their sides. If they see you coming up from afar and are excited to see you, they'll whinny and squeal while galloping to meet you at the gate. They'll deliberately swat you with their tails to tease you, and will often follow you around the pasture if they're allowed to regardless of what you're up to.

-Riding crops are cruel.

Only cruel people use riding crops to hurt their horses. Spurs? I personally object to, because any horse that knows you well doesn't need something sharp jabbing them in the side for emphasis when you're trying to tell them where you want them to go. Crops? Are genuinely harmless tools used for signalling a horse.

I mean, think about it. Why would crops be inherently cruel instruments if you need to trust a horse not to be afraid of you and throw you off when you're riding it?

Crops are best used just to lightly tap on the left or right flank of the horse, and aren't universally used with all forms of riding. You'll mainly see crops used with English riding, and they're just tools for communicating with the horse without needing to speak.

-There's only one way to ride a horse.

Not. At. All. At most teaching ranches, you'll get two options: Western, or English, because they tend to be the most popular for shows and also the most common to find equipment for. English riding uses a thinner, smaller saddle, narrower stirrups, and much thinner bridles. I, personally, didn't like English style riding because I never felt very stable in such a thin saddle with such small stirrups, and didn't start learning until my mid teens. English style riding tends to focus more on your posture and deportment in the saddle, and your ability to show off your stability and apparent immovability on the horse. It was generally just a bit too stiff and formal for me.

Western style riding utilizes heavier bridles, bigger saddles (with the iconic horn on the front), and broader stirrups. Like its name may suggest, Western riding is more about figuring out how to be steady in the saddle while going fast and being mobile with your upper body. Western style riding is generally the style preferred for working-type shows, such as horseback archery, gunning, barrel racing, and even rodeo riding.

-Wealthy horse owners have no relationship with their horses.

This is loosely untrue, but I've seen cases where it is. Basically, horses need to feel like they're working for someone that matters to them in order to behave well with a rider and not get impatient or bored. While it's common for people to board horses at off-property ranches (boarding ranches) for cost and space purposes, it's been historically the truth that having help is usually necessary with horses at some point. What matters is who spends the most time with the animal treating it like a living being, rather than a mode of transport or a tool. There's no harm in stable hands handling the daily upkeep; hay bales and water buckets are heavy, and we're there to profit off the labor you don't want or have the time to do. You get up early to go to work; we get up early to look after your horses. Good owners/boarders visit often and spend as much of their spare time as they can with spending quality work and playtime with their horses. Otherwise, the horses look to the stable hands for emotional support and care.

So, maybe you're writing a knight that doesn't really care much for looking after his horse, but his squire is really dedicated to keeping up with it? There's a better chance of the horse having a more affectionate relationship with the squire thanks to the time the squire spends on looking after it, while the horse is more likely to tolerate the knight that owns it as being a source of discipline if it misbehaves. That doesn't mean the knight is its favorite person. When it comes to horses, their love must be earned, and you can only earn it by spending time with them hands-on.

-Horses can graze anywhere without concern.

This is a mistake that results in a lot of premature deaths! A big part of the cost of owning a horse - even before you buy one - is having the property that will be its pasture assessed for poisonous plants, and having those plants removed from being within the animal's reach. This is an essential part of farm upkeep every year, because horses really can't tell what's toxic and what isn't. One of the reasons it's essential to secure a horse when you aren't riding it is to ensure it only has a very limited range to graze on, and it's your responsibility as the owner/rider to know how to identify dangerous plants and keep your horses away from them.

There's probably more. AMA in my askbox if you have any questions, but that's all for now. Happy writing.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[pin-k-ink]

rapture // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ enemies to lovers, assassin!reader, possessive!illumi, love confessions, sexual tension, teasing, grinding, dry humping, mentions of violence and injuries, overstimulation, making out, public sex, unprotected sex, squirting, begging, dirty talk, pet names, mild breeding kink, biting, manhandling, anal sex, mentions of marriage and pregnancy

wc ⇢ 16.1k

The ritzy hotel loomed ahead, all glass and gleaming opulence. You triple checked the dossier's details as you approached, though you hardly needed to. The shady businessman's daily routines, rotation of private security, all of it was committed to memory. This was meant to be a quick, seamless job - tail the mark to his swanky penthouse suite, neutralize him while he was alone, then disappear like a whisper back into the night.

At least, that was the plan before you noticed the other set of footprints in the bathroom's plush carpeting.

You froze, senses accelerating as your fingertips grazed the slender blade tucked against your forearm. Someone else was here, possibly another hired gun with the same grisly orders. But those prints were too perfect, too controlled to be some amateur's clumsy work.

No...you knew that purposeful, predatory tread all too well.

The bathroom door's lock clicked open and you whirled, weapon drawn, as a tall figure slipped inside. Even in the dimness, those reflective dark eyes and long raven hair were achingly familiar...and dangerous.

"You..." you hissed lowly.

Illumi regarded you coolly, utterly unfazed by having a knife leveled inches from his chest. Of course he wouldn't flinch - you'd never seen this man throw an assassin so much as blink, let alone show fear.

"We seem to have been hired for the same contract," he said flatly, not a hint of inflection.

Your jaw clenched as the two of you stared each other down. Of all the elite assassins spanning the globe, you had to cross paths with Illumi Zoldyck on this job. The one killer whose skills, whose ruthless reputation, could potentially rival your own.

And the one man who, despite yourself, you could feel an electric, unsettling charge sizzling between...

Illumi's obsidian eyes remained carefully impassive as they raked over you. You couldn't tell if he sensed that same crackling tension or if he simply viewed you as another obstacle to circumvent on this assignment. Knowing Illumi's icy detachment, it was likely the latter.

"I don't share contracts," you stated firmly, keeping your blade leveled. "Especially not with you."

"How unfortunate," Illumi murmured in that maddeningly even tone. "Because I've no intention of walking away from this job. Or you."

A tremor ran through you at those last two words, quiet but weighted with Something you couldn't let yourself dwell on. You were the best at what you did, same as Illumi, and neither of you became so lethally elite by allowing distractions.

And yet...you couldn't ignore the way your breath grew shallower, how the air seemed to thicken and churn with that inscrutable energy passing between your bodies. This wasn't going to be as straightforward as you'd planned.

Desperate to regain your composure, you aimed for nonchalance - the only way to get under Illumi's perspicacious stare. Deliberately, you dragged your gaze over his lean frame in an appreciative once-over.

"My, my..." You tsked, allowing a teasing lilt to enter your tone. "No wonder you're so sought after in our line of work. That lithe form seems perfectly suited for stealth...among other intriguing applications."

You watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Illumi's jaw tightened near-imperceptibly at your suggestive words. Score one for actually getting a reaction.

"You're incorrigible," he stated flatly. "And severely lacking in professionalism on the job."

"Oh lighten up, you know how to have a little fun, don't you?" You took a deliberate step closer, watching Illumi tense ever-so-slightly as you invaded his personal space. "Unless cold...unfeeling...killer is simply your natural state?"

Your heated words seemed to spark something deep behind those unfathomable dark eyes. A fleeting glimmer of emotion - irritation, attraction, you couldn't tell. But it was there, buried under icy layers of ruthless control.

"Fun..." Illumi echoed the word like it tasted foreign on his tongue. His piercing stare remained locked on you. "I'm beginning to think your definition of that differs greatly from mine."

"Is that so?" You clicked your tongue in faux disappointment. "Well then, maybe you'll have to show me your version instead. Could be...enlightening."

The heated undercurrent between you was becoming unmistakable now, no matter how steadfastly Illumi tried to remain impassive. He was an impregnable fortress, to be sure. But you were an expert at cracking even the most stubborn defenses.

And you had a feeling once you wormed your way inside Illumi's walls, you'd find something exquisitely, savagely intriguing lying in wait.

Illumi's gaze remained inscrutable as it raked over you appraisingly. "Your attempts at seduction are transparently amateur at best. I expected more from someone of your...reputation."

You barked out a laugh at his cutting remark. "Is that a challenge I detect, Mr. Zoldyck? Because you're playing a very dangerous game, trying to provoke me like that."

"I don't do games," Illumi stated coolly. "I deal in absolutes, in realities. And the reality is that only one of us will be completing this contract tonight."

He closed the distance between you in a few measured strides, his imposing frame now looming mere inches away. From this proximity, you could make out the faintest ethereal scent of sandalwood and steel clinging to him. It was utterly intoxicating.

"So I'll ask you once more," Illumi's words were lethally soft. "Will you walk away willingly? Or am I forced to make you..."

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the charged air. You knew Illumi was utterly capable of neutralizing you here and now if he deemed it necessary. The fact that he seemed to be offering you an out, however slim, was...curious.

Unable to resist pushing further, you tilted your head in a studiously nonchalant manner. "You know...if you wanted me on my back, you could have simply asked nicely."

A heartbeat of loaded silence passed. Then another. Illumi's expression remained that maddening blank slate, not rising to your deliberately crass implication even as the tension thickened palpably.

Just when you were about to goad him again, the faintest of smirks played across those soft lips.

"There's that lack of professionalism again," he murmured. "Though I can't decide if it's merely incessant or...intriguing."

Your breath hitched slightly at the undercurrent beneath those words. Was the infamous Illumi Zoldyck, cold-blooded killer extraordinaire, actually flirting with you?

Recovering quickly, you leaned in until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. Close enough to feel his exhales ghosting across your skin in tantalizing puffs.

"Why don't you get a little closer and find out?"

Illumi didn't so much as flinch at your brazen advance. His dark, fathomless gaze remained locked with yours as one corner of his mouth curved upwards in a maddening half-smirk. "Tempting...but I'll have to decline. At least for now."

Before you could process his words, he moved with blurring speed. One moment he was mere inches away, the next his muscular frame was pressed flush against yours, backing you up until your spine met the wall with a soft thump.

Illumi braced one hand beside your head, effectively caging you in with his body as he leaned down. Those slightly parted lips brushed a scorching path maddeningly close to your own before veering aside at the last moment. Instead, you felt the barest whisper of breath fanning along the heated skin of your neck.

"I do hope you'll make this interesting for me," he all but purred, voice dipped in something sinfully dark. "I'd hate to be...underwhelmed by your skills so early in our...partnership."

A tremor ran through you at the implication in that last word. Despite his impassive facade, there was no mistaking the molten undercurrent flickering behind Illumi's eyes now. You'd sparked something primal awake in the infamous assassin, something he clearly didn't experience often.

And a reckless part of you couldn't wait to stoke those smoldering embers into an inferno.

Regaining your composure, you arched a challenging brow. "Oh, don't you worry about me keeping things interesting," you practically purred. "In fact, I promise to take your breath away before the night is over."

Illumi regarded you with an inscrutable look for a heavy beat, as if weighing your brazen promise. Then, in one sinuous motion, he stepped back and put a calculated sliver of space between your bodies once more.

"We'll see about that," he stated evenly, though you didn't miss the faint huskiness edging his inflection now. "For the moment, I suggest we return our focus to the task at hand."

You fought not to visibly react as Illumi gestured towards the door leading to the mark's penthouse suite. As if either of you could so easily disengage from the potent tension still crackling between you like a livewire.

Nodding once, you forced yourself to slip back into professional mindset, sheathing your blade with a practiced flick of your wrist. "Lead the way then. I'll be right behind you."

The words carried a deliberate double meaning that wasn't lost on Illumi if his momentary side-eye was any indication. Still, he turned on his heel and started down the hallway without another word.

As you fell into step behind the assassin, you allowed your gaze to linger appreciatively on the powerful shoulders beneath his fitted suit, the lithely coiled muscles in his arms and back that you knew all too well could snap a man's neck with grotesque ease. There was an undeniable, unsettling allure to Illumi's lethal grace.

You couldn't quite put your finger on what had changed between the two of you in these past heated moments. The razor-edged chemistry had been lurking for months, years even, every time your jobs brought you into the other's orbit. but tonight that simmering tension had suddenly been stoked into roaring life, quickly spiraling out of control.

And despite the small, rational voice warning this was a reckless game to play with as elite a killer as Illumi Zoldyck...you couldn't shake the feeling that you were both helplessly, inexorably, caught up in the thrilling inferno.

Reaching the mark's private entrance, Illumi paused and slanted you a weighted look over one shoulder. A silent challenge glimmered in those midnight depths.

Game on then.

Lifting your chin boldly, you brushed past him and took the lead, making sure your body grazed his with deliberate suggestion as you did so. You heard his soft intake of breath behind you and hid a smile.

Let the games begin.

With Illumi trailing slightly behind, you took point and stealthily picked the lock to the penthouse entrance. Normally a task like this would require your full, focused concentration. But with your senses tantalizingly attuned to the silent predator shadowing your every move, you found your mind wandering.

What game was Illumi playing at? This wasn't his usual cold, detached modus operandi when handling contracted hits. No, there was an undeniable spark flickering behind that unreadable facade now. A banked sort of heat smoldering in those obsidian eyes whenever they raked over you with pointed intent.

You risked a glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, Illumi's piercing gaze was trained squarely on the curve of your backside as you bent over the lock mechanism. Not even attempting subtlety anymore, was he?

Unable to resist prodding that newfound fire, you made a show of slowly rising back to your full height and stretching your arms overhead with an exaggerated breath. Your shirt riding up just enough to expose a taunting strip of toned midriff.

The loaded moment stretched between you before Illumi finally spoke, voice raspier than usual. "If you're quite finished delaying..."

You turned with an innocent look. "Why, whatever do you mean? I'm simply preparing myself for the challenge ahead."

Holding his stare, you traced a deliberate fingertip down the valley between your breasts, letting it trail down your abdomen slowly before dropping your hand. "Gotta stay...limber."

Illumi's jaw tensed infinitesimally but he remained otherwise impassive as always. "Your attempts at distraction are obvious. And fruitless. I don't lose focus so easily."

"Is that so?" You arched one brow teasingly before spinning back towards the door and finall finishing your work on the lock tumblers. "We'll see about that."

The pneumatic hiss of the door unsealing echoed like a sly promise. Slipping inside the darkened penthouse, you felt the frisson of Illumi's tall frame entering behind you with predatory grace.

The game was most definitely afoot now. You couldn't wait to see who would be declared the winner once all the players' simmering desires were finally, deliciously sated.

The penthouse suite was cloaked in inky shadows, though both you and Illumi could navigate the darkness with preternatural ease. Silently, you swept through the grandiose living area, senses attuned to any potential security triggers or signs of the mark's whereabouts.

A slight shift of air current against your back alerted you to Illumi's stealthy approach from behind. You tensed instinctively as his presence materialized at your side, so close you could feel the subtle body heat rolling off him in waves.

"He's not here," Illumi murmured, low enough that his warm breath fanned along the sensitive skin of your neck. "The bedroom."

You refused to allow his intentional proximity to rattle you, squaring your shoulders. "After you then."

Illumi's lips quirked in a near-imperceptible smirk before he brushed past you purposefully. You had to resist the urge to shiver as the movement brought your bodies into fleeting alignment, front to back. Just for a moment, you could have sworn you felt the barest graze of his fingertips trailing along your hip.

Get a grip, you chided yourself. He's just trying to throw you off your game again.

Although...if that was indeed Illumi's aim, you had to grudgingly admit it was working. Being this close to the enigmatic assassin's raw, coiled power set your nerves pleasantly buzzing with a strange sort of static charge. Like you were a live wire just waiting to surge into blinding arc of current given the right spark.

Shaking off the tingling distraction, you followed Illumi down the hall towards the bedroom. You both moved with the same unhurried yet purposeful hunter's stride, bodies gliding in a strange tandem sync. Like two cosmic bodies pulled into an ever-tightening orbit, unable to resist the other's inescapable pull.

The smoldering tension thrummed steadily between you with each measured footfall. More heated and palpable by the second as your blood sang in rising anticipation.

Whatever happened once you reached your destination tonight, one thing was becoming undeniably clear - neither of your lives would be the same after.

To your surprise, the bedroom door was left slightly ajar and a thin slice of amber lamplight spilled out from within. Illumi slowed imperceptibly before easing up beside it, flattening himself to the wall as he angled his body to peer cautiously through the opening.

When his gaze cut sharply back in your direction a beat later, the fire glimmering there caused a shiver of awareness to lick straight down your spine.

Beckoning you over with one subtle hand gesture, Illumi then tilted his chin towards the bedroom in a silent directive for you to take a look as well.

You swallowed hard before moving to slip in behind his formidable frame. Despite yourself, your pulse kicked up several notches as you leaned past Illumi, basking in his masculine scent - a dizzying combination of adrenaline and some smoky spice that ignited liquid heat low in your belly...

Forcing your mind to focus, you peered through the gap and felt your breath catch in your throat at the scene within.

The mark was indeed present. And he most definitely was not alone.

The bedroom was awash in flickering amber light from the fireplace, casting the two figures tangled amidst the rumpled sheets in a sultry warm glow. The businessman you'd both been hired to eliminate was very much alive and obliviously preoccupied...thoroughly engaged in intimate activities with a scantily clad woman.

You felt Illumi shift minutely behind you as he too registered the unexpectedly compromising scene. The heat of his firm chest pressed fractionally closer along the line of your back until you could almost feel the measured cadence of his breaths ghosting the nape of your neck. The intimate proximity made your pulse spike deliciously.

"Well..." you murmured, keeping your voice a hushed whisper meant only for Illumi's ears. "This certainly complicates matters."

"Does it?" came his silken response, his mouth now so tantalizingly close that his lips very nearly grazed the sensitive shell of your ear with each syllable. "I was under the impression you...preferred things deliciously complicated, my dear."

A shiver traced your spine at the velvety endearment, at the way his inflection caressed those last two words. You risked a glance over your shoulder to find Illumi's gaze locked on you with banked intensity, those dark obsidian depths flickering like the flames in the other room.

Unable to resist a little prodding, you arched one brow at him teasingly. "Why Illumi...are you suggesting we take notes on their...technique?"

A loaded pause. Then finally, the barest ghost of a smirk curved those soft lips as Illumi leaned in fractionally closer until the two of you were sharing the same heated breath between parted mouths.

"Only if you think you can keep up," he murmured, rich voice dipping into a low, gravelly register that flooded your veins with liquid fire. "After all, I'd hate to...overwhelm you before we've even really gotten started."

Despite the bravado, his dark gaze remained trained intently on your face, watching, searching for any flicker of reaction to his boldly suggestive words. Seeking out that first fissure where he could apply calculated pressure and finally shatter your meticulously maintained control.

Well...two could most definitely play at that game.

With slow, exaggerated intent, you brushed back the silken lock of hair that had slipped over Illumi's forehead until your fingertips were cradling the strong angle of his jaw. Feeling his muscles twitch ever so slightly beneath your touch as his gaze morphed into smoky embers.

"I thought you'd never ask," you practically purred, allowing your lips to graze the barest whisper along the stubbled hinge of that chiseled jaw as you spoke. Close enough to taste the heated tang of his skin on your tongue. "Lead the way then, Mr. Zoldyck. And do try to keep up with me."

For one electric moment caught in crystal suspension, Illumi looked very much like he was considering simply slamming you back against the nearest surface and finally slaking the ravenous want blazing between you.

Then, like the steady click of a reloaded round sliding into chamber, his impenetrable mask of control descended once more. Not quite banked...but stoked into a raging, unholy inferno blazing behind those unfathomable dark eyes.

"Perhaps another time," he rasped in a tone that could have scored steel. "We have a job to complete."

With immense force of will, you managed to tear your eyes away from the molten promise simmering in Illumi's gaze. Turning your attention back towards the bedroom, you attempted to refocus on the mission at hand despite the thundering of your pulse.

The mark was still entangled with his female companion, utterly oblivious to the two elite assassins lurking just outside. Their breathless cries and the rhythmic creaking of the bedframe provided a perversely intimate soundtrack that only stoked the banked embers flickering between you and Illumi.

You were vividly aware of the assassin's powerful frame pressed along the line of your backside as you both watched the couple's wanton movements through the cracked doorway. So close, in fact, that you could feel the scorching path of his eyes boring into your body as he drank in every minute reaction.

Despite the fire simmering low in your belly, you couldn't resist one last heated provocation.

Keeping your voice a hushed whisper, you murmured just loudly enough for Illumi's ears alone, "You know...they don't seem to be lacking inspiration at the moment."

You felt the subtle hitch of his breath against your nape at the words, savoring your small victory with no small amount of satisfaction. The upper hand was yours again...for now at least.

"However," you continued, deliberately allowing your hips to cant back fractionally until they brushed against Illumi in suggestion. "If you feel you need more...hands-on education before we proceed, I'm certainly amenable to providing it."

This time there was no mistaking the rasping exhale that spilled from between Illumi's lips, hot and harsh against your sensitized skin. You fought not to shiver at the banked lust given voice in those airless syllables.

"Keep pushing me," he all but growled, the low timbre seeming to vibrate straight through your bones. "And you may get more of an...education than you bargained for, little assassin."

The heated endearment twisted like a brand straight to your core. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your body flush against Illumi's powerful frame before you regained control. But it was too late - the damage had already been wrought.

Illumi dipped his head until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breaths fanning torrid patterns of promise along your heated skin. When he spoke again, the words seemed to sear you to your very marrow.

"The real question is...are you finally ready to stop playing games and give in to this?" One calloused finger traced a scorching path down your bodice until it reached the lush swell of your breasts. " Because I promise you, once that line is crossed, there'll be no going back."

In that breathless moment of shared hunger, the rest of the world seemed to fall away until there was nothing else but the two of you. Adversaries, allies, would-be lovers hovering on the exquisite precipice of the inevitable. A yawning chasm of uncharted rapture beckoned just beyond that razor's thin line.

All it would take was one of you finally gathering the courage to let go and leap into the howling abyss. To see where these shuddering tremors of desire ultimately led when allowed to detonate their full, cataclysmic force.

Who would be the one to finally summon the will to take that first step over the edge?

The heated tension thrummed like a livewire between your bodies as you stared one another down through the cracked bedroom door. Illumi's piercing gaze seemed to burn straight through you, sparking liquid fire in your veins and stoking the deepening ache low in your belly.

This had gone far enough. If you didn't act soon, there was no telling how much further this delirious game of provocations could escalate before one of you inevitably combusted.

Squaring your shoulders, you forced your expression into one of taunting nonchalance despite your rabbiting pulse. "Well? Are we going to keep wasting time out here gawking? Or are you finally ready to make your move, assassin?"

A muscle ticked in Illumi's taut jaw as his stare remained unwaveringly intense. You could have sworn his pupils blew wider at your heated challenge. Then, so fast you barely registered the movement, he was on you.

One moment he was a hairsbreadth away, the next your back collided with the wall in a harsh thump. Illumi's powerful frame caged you in as he braced one forearm beside your head, effectively pinning you in place with the hard lines of his body.

"My move?" His voice was little more than a low, gravel-laced rasp against the heated hollow below your ear. "I'm waiting for you to stop playing coy and take what you really want..."

The taunt hung heavy between you, igniting sparks of liquid fire wherever Illumi's body brushed against yours with his slowly decreasing restraint. You could feel the restrained power thrumming through those coiled muscles, the barely leashed predator straining against the final tatters of its restraint.

This was it then. The tipping point where one of you would finally have to take that first, irrevocable plunge and allow the tenuous threads binding you to unravel.

Part of you thrilled at the inevitability of it, at the forbidden knowledge of how utterly incandescent that long-banked inferno would blaze once stoked into full, blinding life. While another part still whispered urgent warnings about the reckless road you were careening towards.

With Illumi pinning you in place and those dark eyes burning molten promise, it would be all too easy to let your resistance finally shatter. To reach out with both hands and pull that lithe, powerful frame against yours while giving in to the howling demands of your body.

To simply let go and allowed yourself to be consumed by the all-encompassing maelstrom.

But you were no helpless victim to your urges - you were a master of discipline, just like Illumi. Which meant you still had one final game to play.

Summoning every last vestrige of your rapidly deteriorating control, you slid your palms up the lacquered plane of Illumi's chest until they came to rest at the juncture of his throat. Letting your fingers brush torrid patterns along the thundering pulse you found there as you tilted your chin up in blatant defiance.

"What I want..." you breathed, allowing your lips to graze Illumi's with slow, searing intent. "Is for you to move out of my way so I can finish this job and collect my payment. All this delicious tension between us is doing nothing except distracting us both."

The barest fractional widening of Illumi's eyes indicated you'd scored a direct hit. Sensing your window of opportunity, you dropped one hand and allowed your fingertips to trace a scorching path down the taut ridges of his abdomen.

"Unless..." You punctuated the hushed whisper by pressing your palm firmly against the rapidly hardening bulge straining against Illumi's tailored slacks. "You'd like me to take care of this distraction for you first?"

For an electric seconds-lasted-eternity heartbeat, Illumi seemed to simply stop breathing altogether. His entire frame went terribly, utterly still apart from the subtle tic working his clenched jaw.

Then finally, after what felt like a small eternity had elapsed between you, he exhaled a single rough syllable. "...Vixen."

The word seemed to reverberate through you both with the distant promise of repercussions.

Your palm pressed firmly against the bulge in Illumi's slacks, allowing your fingers to brush tantalizingly as you murmured your heated challenge. For a suspended heartbeat, muscle ticked in the assassin's chiseled jaw as his obsidian gaze burned into you with molten intensity.

Then, so fast your lashes barely had time to part, Illumi's head dipped and his mouth crashed against yours in a searing, possessive kiss.

You gasped at the white-hot contact, allowing Illumi to deepen the liplock as one calloused hand fisted in your hair to angle your head. His other palm splayed scorchingly against the small of your back, pulling your bodies into rapturous alignment from chest to hip.

The world seemed to burn away until there was nothing but the exquisite friction of his firm planes melding with your softer curves. The dual infernos of your desire stoked higher and hotter with each harsh pants of shared breath and duel of roving tongues.

This was the precipice you'd been hovering over since first laying eyes on the enigmatic Illumi Zoldyck. The point of no return where control finally shredded and allowed your most vibrant urges to detonate into blinding supernova.

Except...you weren't quite ready to plunge over that edge into the abyss. Not yet.

Reaching deep for your last tattered remnants of focus, you allowed one hand to slink down Illumi's powerful backside. Your fingers brushed over the unmistakable shape of his concealed blade, causing the muscles there to twitch in anticipation.

Then, before he could process your gambit, you seized the hilt and wrenched the curved karambit free in one deft motion. Reversing your grip, you shoved hard against Illumi's chest and broke the heated clash of your bodies before whipping the blade up in alusty arc towards the bedroom.

His dark eyes blown wide in a mixture of disbelief and fiery approval as the weapon left a blurring contrail...straight towards the obliviously intertwined figures within.

There was a meaty thunk of impact followed by a truncated scream. But your focus had already shifted to the wide-eyed gape frozen on Illumi's patrician features, savoring every last micro-expression of his disarmed shock.

"Looks like I'll be the one collecting payment tonight after all," you murmured softly before turning on your heel and disappearing into the night.

After all, a girl had to keep her skills...polished for whatever came next.

In the weeks and months following your boldly audacious move against Illumi that night, your paths continued criss-crossing at an uncanny rate. Whether by design or some cruel twist of fate, it seemed the two of you were forever being hired to eliminate the same high-profile targets across the shadowy criminal underworld.

At first, your motivations for one-upping the other revolved solely around claiming the biggest payouts and cinching another notch on your respective body counts. The lucrative assassination contracts became an intense competition - a lethal game of one-upmanship between two masters vying for the same coveted prizes.

Your encounters started taking on an increasingly heated edge as the rivalry escalated. Cat-and-mouse games of sabotage, calculated attempts to undermine each other's efforts or eliminate the other from the playing field entirely. All bets were off when it came to claiming victory over your newfound nemesis.

And yet...you couldn't ignore the persistent, erotic tension that continued simmering like a banked fire no matter how viciously you clashed. The memory of Illumi's powerful frame pinning yours, the lingering phantom burn of his mouth branding your skin indelibly, remained burned into your psyche. Stoking the very embers that should have cooled after that first encounter.

Because despite the underhanded tactics, despite the barbed taunts and bristling antagonism, there was no mistaking the fire that flickered to lurid life in Illumi's lethal gaze whenever you were in proximity. You recognized the look, the molten promise that stormed behind those darkly impenetrable eyes.

This was more than just an intense competition between two elite assassins constantly trying to outmaneuver the other. No, this was a gauntlet thrown - a searing challenge issued between two all-too-willing players itching to dive back into the deliciously torrid inferno ignited that first explosive night.

A breathtaking game of carnal provocation and simmering want layered atop the dangerous, high-stakes duels to see who could claim the biggest prize. Who would ultimately emerge the victor didn't matter nearly as much as getting to sate the scorching need both of you were becoming hopelessly addicted to.

So the chase continued with escalating fervor, leading to increasingly bold displays of sabotage. Like the gala you infiltrated to take out a marks, only to have Illumi materialize like a specter in your periphery. One minute you were setting the kill stage, the next he was looming over you from behind, long fingers snaring your wrist to stay the killing blow as his lips brushed the brimming pulse at your throat.

"Going somewhere...little assassin?" came the dark purr laced with equal parts promise and provocation.

And just like that, the game was afoot once more. The renewed sparks of your heated rivalry fanned into a roaring blaze as you twisted in his steely grasp and lashed out in a vicious return strike. Driving Illumi back in a flurry of grappling limbs and hastily drawn blades as the sounds of the opulent party raged on in mocking ignorance just beyond the curtained alcove.

"I could ask you the same thing," you managed to grit out as the two of you traded blows. Each parry and riposte igniting fresh embers until it was impossible to tell whether your rapidly spiking pulses stemmed from the violence of battle...or something infinitely more primal drawing you both in like cosmic bodies caught in the other's irresistible orbit.

It was only a matter of time before one of your cataclysmic collisions saw that banked fire finally detonating into a conflagration that would consume you both utterly.

The real question was - would either of you have the strength of will to walk away from those searing ashes once the smoke finally cleared?

The intense game of one-upmanship and provocation continued escalating between you and Illumi over the next string of overlapping contracts. Cat-and-mouse games of sabotage and thwarting each other's efforts descended into something far more perilous - a high-stakes, high-adrenaline gauntlet fueled by simmering desire.

You couldn't deny the molten promise that flared white-hot in Illumi's obsidian stare every time your bodies moved through that dangerous danse macabre. The controlled violence of your clashing forms seeming to exist on some higher, erotically-charged plane with rules all its own.

One job saw the two of you grappling viciously in the shadows of an opulent wine cellar, blades whirring in feinting arcs. Heated breaths mingled as you strained against Illumi's powerful frame for dominance, chests heaving in exquisite exertion.

"Getting sloppy, little assassin?" he rasped against the sweat-slicked curve of your neck as one calloused palm pinned your wrist with bruising force. "How terribly...undisciplined."

You snarled wordlessly and managed to wrench partially free, whipping your knee up towards his abdomen. Illumi twisted fluidly at the last second, avoiding the blow but leaving himself fractionally overextended in your personal space.

Seizing your fleeting window, you hooked one leg around his thigh and heaved with all your strength. The world spun in a blur as you reversed positions, slamming Illumi's shoulder blades against the cellar's stone floor with enough force to stun even his preternatural reflexes momentarily.

"You were saying?" you couldn't resist taunting as you used your weight to pin his hips immobile beneath yours. Your palms bracketing Illumi's chiseled features and your faces now only scant inches apart.

His gaze flickered with something utterly incendiary at your bold move. One corner of those soft lips quirked in the barest ghost of a smirk before he arched his lower body with dizzying strength.

The powerful undulation sent shockwaves of forbidden friction lancing through you both. Your breath left in a harsh gasp at the illicit heat now searing your limbs and core from such fleeting contact. Illumi's eyes glittered twin points of unholy promise at breaking through your control.

"My, my...such forthrightness," he practically purred, somehow managing to infuse those innocuous words with carnal sin. "Although if my memory serves, weren't you the one always pressing me to stop toying around and give in fully to our...indulgences?"

Your entire body went taut as tressed steel cords at the blatant callback to that first explosive encounter. The memory of Illumi's searing lips and merciless hands branding your pliant flesh with rapturous possession seared through your mind like a lightning strike. Igniting phantom brushfires in all the secret places his touch had roamed so devastatingly.

You opened your mouth, desperate to hurl back a cutting retort and snuff those banked embers before they could conflagrate completely out of control. But then Illumi shifted minutely, rolling his hips in one subtle, sinuous motion that dragged the jacquard ridge of his slacks against your molten core in the most obscene caress.

The throaty whimper that spilled from your lips would have embarrassed you if not for the exultant gleam that lit Illumi's gaze at the sound. You'd pressed too far and now, finally, the beast was roused to wakefulness. Ready to pursue its ravenous hunger to the only conclusion possible when denied for too ling.

"Well?" His voice had roughened to gravel, dark and dangerous with Alpha promise. "What's it to be, little assassin? Fight..." He punctuated the heated murmur by undulating his hips again in devastatingly perfect alignment. "Or flight?"

Despite the heated altercation in the wine cellar, where you and Illumi had teetered on the very precipice of allowing your combative passions to detonate into something cataclysmic, neither of you actually crossed that line. Not yet.

There were still too many unspoken boundaries, too much history and distrust bred into your very bones as elite assassins to simply let go so recklessly. You were both masters of restraint and discipline, after all. No matter how scorching the embers flickered between you, some part of your formidable natures wouldn't allow that inferno to fully immolate.

Not without a fight, at least.

So the game continued with renewed, blistering fervor. A gauntlet of sabotage, undermining, and all-out attempts to eliminate one another from the face of the earth whenever your latest target's trails intertwined. And yet, underneath the professional violence and searing glares...the undercurrent of bone-deep, electrifying want only intensified.

You became hyper-attuned to even Illumi's slightest movements, the way his lithe form uncoiled with leonine grace whenever you crossed paths. The anticipation built with every measured look exchanged, every blistering brush of heated bodies through the chaos of battle.

It was as if you were both engaging in some intricate occult ritual - dancing ever closer to the brink of total immolation through escalating circles of seduction and provocation. Stoking those banked embers hotter and brighter until they threatened to detonate into a conflagration that would raze your very souls.

The next job saw the two of you prowling the dimly-lit lesser echelons of Yorknew's underground aurodium exchange. Bitter professional rivals once more in pursuit of taking out a wealthy nerodist and claiming their bounty. And yet, the moment you registered Illumi's presence slinking through the rafters high above, a delicious frisson lanced straight to your very core.

With the ease of long practice, you slipped into the calculated motions of your craft. Felling guards with surgical efficiency while angling your assault towards the prime vantage that would allow you to spotting and eliminating the mark.

Only this time, as you moved into final position with your weapon prepped and sights aligned...you tracked the steady grip of Illumi's drawn blade from your periphery. Following the clean lines of those flexing forearms and upwards to find the other assassin's flinty gaze locked on you from across the cavernous space.

A lightning-struck heartbeat of bristling eye contact passed between you and you knew, with absolute certainty, that he'd marked you as his real target for the evening. Not your intended victim, but something far more primal and insatiable.

The tiniest fractional tilt of those sculpted lips curved into the ghost of his maddening half-smirk. An unspoken challenge blazed in the turbulent depths watching you with utterly unbroken intensity. A molten invitation to tear the world asunder and finally give in to the searing waltz you'd been breathlessly pursuing for months...years...

With him, there would be no holding back this time. No final shreds of control leashing the wildfire about to detonate if you surrendered to the ultimate provocation. This was the gauntlet centuries in the making - the ultimate collision between two unstoppable forces of nature who refused to be denied their cataclysmic release.

All it would take was a single shot, a hairsbreadth turn of your wrist adjusting your aim towards...

The weighted look you shared with Illumi across the cavernous underground exchange stretched into an infinitely charged moment. For a suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to go utterly still apart from the twin points of banked fire flickering in the other assassin's gaze.

A unspoken ultimatum simmered between you, laced with the dark promise that whatever this delirious game between you had been escalating towards all along...the tipping point was finally, inexorably here.

One subtle twitch of your gun's muzzle was all it would take to reject the insistent pull towards complete ruination. To turn your sights back towards the original mark, reignite the familiar dance of brinksmanship between professional adversaries, and walk away from the inferno altogether.

Or...

You could finally indulge the scorching, increasingly inescapable urge that seemed to howl through your every atom whenever Illumi's electrifying presence manifested nearby. Embrace the irresistible gravity drawing your bodies into nearer and nearer orbits with each smoldering exchange until the inevitable cosmic collision.

There would be no returning from that eternal plunge into rapturous oblivion should you choose to allow these tensions to finally detonate. No scrap of restraint or control remaining once you surrendered utterly to this deliciously untenable heat steadily reducing you both to cinders.

Illumi seemed to read the warring impulses battering you in that loaded moment. His chin dipped near-infinitesimally in a minute nod of understanding...and challenge. The next calculated inhalation saw his broad chest expanding subtly, rolling those taut pectoral ridges forward in a deliberate display of the coiled power thrumming beneath his tailored clothing.

It was a patently blatant gesture of provocation, one final taunt issued by a supremely Alpha predator impatient to rouse their prey into taking flight or standing their heated ground.

Your fingers tightened fractionally on your weapon's grip as that undeniable spark of adrenaline - of primal, churning want - ignited low in your abdomen. With each subsequent measured breath you were acutely aware of Illumi's piercing stare watching your every microreaction, hungrily searching for the instant your carefully cultivated control finally reached its terminal breaking point.

When the simmering lava flow of need you had both been so desperately attempting to dam finally found its inevitable lahar vent.

The molten promise flickered in your blood like a wildfire about to conflagrate into raging inferno. But you refused to be goaded quite so easily this time. Not when so much...so much uncharted potential for absolute rapture hung trembling in the balance.

No, if Illumi was finally ready to truly start this ancient dance anew, you were going to make the insufferable bastard work for his catharsis. Every... torturously...delicious...inch of the way.

Drawing your lips into a small, taunting smirk of your own, you allowed your gun's aim to drift lazily away from the foolish target cowering across the hall. Let the momentary confusion play out in Illumi's eyes even as the twin flames of anticipation and heated approval kindled brighter in those endlessly deep pools.

Then, with exaggerated indolence, you blew out a soft breath and adjusted your stance into an exquisite stretch that saw every lush curve of your body pulling taut against your form-fitting garments. Your tongue peeked out to lave a slow, deliberate pass across your lower lip as you drank in the thunderstruck look now suffusing Illumi's chiseled features.

If this was to be the opening overture to your ultimate freefall from the heavens...you were going to make certain every soul-searing note rang clearly.

The air itself seemed to thicken and churn with a palpable static charge as you boldly held Illumi's molten stare from across the sprawling exchange floor. This was it - the pivotal moment when one of you would finally have to be the first to recklessly leap over the yawning abyss separating professionalism from total rapturous ruination.

You could practically taste the scorching inevitability gathering like stormheads as Illumi's eyes raked over every subtle undulation of your provocative stretch. Hungrily drinking in the blatant offering presented by your arched spine and the tantalizing swell of your figure pulled taut against restrictive fabrics.

Deciding to further stoke those banked embers into an inferno, you allowed your free hand to slowly, exaggeratedly trail up the contours of your body. Fingertips tracing patterns of liquid fire from the dip of your navel, over the generous curves of your breasts, until finally coming to rest with pointed emphasis at the hollow of your throat.

You heard - or perhaps imagined, given the heated maelstrom battering your senses - Illumi's sharp inhalation from across the space separating your bodies. Like a wolf sent into hyperfocus by the first tantalizing notes of a howl carried through the underbrush.

Throwing your head back with deliberate indolence, you exposed the long pale column of your neck in unspoken invitation. A primal offering encoded into the most ancient submissive posturing...and a blatant challenge to the virile apex predator watching your every move with undisguised, ravenous intent.

Illumi's blade still hung at his side, utterly disregarded and forgotten in the wake of your escalating provocations. His stare had turned utterly unblinking, shoulders rising and falling in an irregular cadence as he seemed to commit every detail of your taunting display to smoldering memory.

This was quickly becoming untenable for you both. You could feel that final fraying thread of restraint thinning to a mere filament despite all your training, all your carefully cultivated icy control. Soon...so very soon one of you was bound to be the first to snap and finally give in to the howling needs baying for release.

A part of you thrilled with dark, lurid delight at the thought of utter surrender. To give in fully to this feverish, churning rapture and be unmade then remade anew in the searing, primal crucible promised by becoming intimately entwined with Illumi Zoldyck at long last.

But another part, that iron kernel of stubbornness and pride hardwired into your every atom, refused to simply give quarter so easily after coming this far. Let the pretentious assassin be the first to lose his way...to expose the chinks in his oh-so-indomitable armor of control.

A game of chicken, then. Pushing your taunts and provocations until that final spool of resistance began to splinter and fray completely. Daring the other to finally reach out and wrench apart the remaining tatters keeping your mutual inferno tightly banked.

You quirked one shapely brow in heated challenge as your palm continued its torturously languid trail up your sternum. Rolling your shoulders back to accentuate the profound swell of your breasts rising and falling with each increasingly ragged breath. Taking your time to adjust your stance and position just enough to ensure Illumi's darkly turbulent gaze drifted helplessly to the riot of movement.

Then, punctuating the silence that had gone utterly static in the air between you, your fingertips grazed maddeningly light patterns over the achingly sensitized skin above the neckline of your top.

"So, handsome...." you all but purred, giving voice to the sinful endearment that seemed to resonate like a thunderclap in the tiny cosmos contained within this electrified moment. "Ready to ante up? Or should I stop...wasting your time?"

The loaded silence that fell between you and Illumi seemed to stretch into a small eternity as the unspoken challenge hung white-hot in the thickened air. You could practically see the twin firestorms raging behind those depthless obsidian pools as he drank in your taunting words and provocative display.

For one faltering heartbeat, his harsh features appeared to fracture ever-so-slightly - that impenetrable façade of control cracking under the impossible strain you were ruthlessly exerting. Calloused fingers visibly flexed against the hilt of his forgotten blade as if contemplating simply hurling the weapon aside entirely.

Then, just as you began to savor the first fissures in his meticulously cultivated restraint...Illumi inhaled one measured breath through flared nostrils. Committing what seemed like every atom of his formidable willpower into steadying that hairline fracture from shattering wide open.

When his gaze finally returned to yours, it burned with searing intensity - but also something altogether more potent and inexorable. A primordial acknowledgment of the seismic shift that had just occurred in this delirious match of provocation between you.

Lines had been indelibly drawn, boundaries obliterated in the wake of your combined rising tide of lust and dogged oneupmanship. There could be no more feints or strategic maneuvers, no further illusion of maintaining a last veneered pretense of professionalism.

This had irrevocably, irretrievably become the main Event - capital E - you had both been hurtling towards across uncounted nights of fleeting, charged intersections. A terminal collision rapidly approaching that would see one of your formidable natures bent past its tensile limit and finally shattered by the sheer cataclysmic force involved.

The only remaining variables were who would provide that final devastating overture...and what unholy havoc would be wrought in its smoldering, cinder-strewn aftermath.

Illumi shifted almost imperceptibly, squaring his shoulders as if bracing himself to withstand the oncoming onslaught. You watched the subtle flexing of his throat as he swallowed once, seeming to steel his resolve before replying in that maddeningly mild timbre that somehow made every syllable resonate like stroking hands over bared nerves.

"Why don't you come over here..." he murmured with quiet, lethally-coiled intensity, "...And find out for yourself whether either of us will be wasting each other's time tonight?"

The blatant heat laden into those softly issued words triggered an involuntary shiver from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. For a single suspended breath, the very world itself seemed to teeter upon the precipice, awaiting your ultimate response.

Would you finally gather every last scrap of your mettle and call Illumi's brazenly provocative dare? Yielding fully to the siren call awaiting in that precipitous, looming abyss that had steadily been unraveling your tightly-bound controls for months now?

Or would some fragment of your rationale, of your assassin's creed to never allow distractions or entanglements, manage to sheath itself in composure one final time? Withdrawing from this rapidly deteriorating conflict before you both rent the very fabric of existence to burning threads?

The heady choice was suddenly, perilously, yours alone to make...

A dozen different impulses battled for control as you weighed Illumi's bold, heated challenge. Part of you thrilled at the dark, smoldering promise carried in those murmured words - an unspoken vow that should you dare meet his provocation, he would finally unleash the full, merciless force of his long-restrained desire upon you.

The thought sparked molten tendrils of liquid fire lancing straight to your core. You couldn't deny the feverish allure of being one of the rare few to pierce the Zoldyck assassin's impenetrable walls and expose the primal, savagely rapacious need lying in wake beneath.

To clasp the tiger's jaws and feel its searing exhalations scorch your very essence...it was undeniably, perversely intriguing in a way that stoked your own deepest, most untoward cravings.

And yet, another part of you - that kernel of flint-stubborn pride and discipline bred into your elite bone and marrow - balked at the thought of simply surrendering so easily. Of allowing Illumi the satisfaction of rattling you into compliance first, no matter how deliriously tempting the rewards promised on the other side.

No...if this scorching waltz was to reach its exquisite, world-rendering crescendo, you refused to acquiesce to being the first player to blink.

Dragging your heavy-lidded gaze up to meet Illumi's in a blatant display of haughty dismissal, you carved one side of your mouth into a slashing smirk. The expression didn't come close to reaching your eyes, which had turned to glittering metallic flints of challenge.

"Well well, Mr. Zoldyck..." You traced the very tip of your tongue along your lower lip with exaggerated indolence. "I have to admit, you've piqued my interest with that...spicy little invitation."

You punctuated the husked words by allowing your palms to glide sinuously down the lush terrain of your body. Over the generous flare of your hips, the taut feminine curves accentuated by your form-fitting garments, all the way until your fingertips tucked purposefully into your waistband.

Illumi's own fingertips audibly tightened against the hilt of his discarded blade as his stare raptly tracked your display. The smoldering promise in those endlessly deep pools had shifted into something rawer...more wantonly naked the longer you drew out toying with his composure.

Leaning forward slightly to emphasis the profound swell of your cleavage straining against your top's plunging neckline, you clicked your tongue in exaggerated disappointment.

"Unfortunately...I don't have time to waste entertaining your particular brand of gratuitous urges tonight."

Illumi's features seemed to fracture almost imperceptibly at your dismissive words. That molten veneer of restraint now paper-thin as those hooded, predatory eyes bored into yours with searing intensity. Silently demanding elaboration as to whether you were truly intending to withdraw from the brink after so relentlessly stoking the inferno between you both.

Unable to resist one final goad, you faked a theatrically disingenuous pout before slowly, sinuously hitching your hips in a subtle roll of exquisite provocation. "But don't worry, handsome...I'm sure we'll have the chance to pick this back up another time. When you've had the chance to...cool that notoriously intense ardor of yours."

The twitch that rippled across Illumi's chiseled jawline indicated your taunt scored a direct hit. You could practically see the sheer force of that pent-up ardor battering against the remaining brittle shards of his restraint like a maelstrom hurling itself against a rapidly crumbling dam's gatehouse.

"Until then..." You held his heated stare unflinchingly as you turned on one heel in a swirl of skirts. Already anticipating the seething inferno of denied hunger and frustrated need that would surely be etched across Illumi's expression over your shoulder.

"Try not to burn yourself up from the inside, Zoldyck."

Not giving the danger dance between you both so much as a parting glance, you slipped away into the abyss as silent and ethereal as death's whisper itself.

Leaving the other half of your exquisite struggle to contend with the roiling, savagely thunderous tempest clawing at his admittedly formidable composure in your swirling wake.

-

The dimly lit lounge pulsed with the sort of charged, illicit energy that draws hunters and their prey alike into its neon-hazed aura. Perfect for your current mission of luring the despicable mark into a strategic seduction before neutralizing him.

You'd coiled yourself sinuously onto one of the banquettes ringing the central bar, making sure to catch the sleazebag's rapt attention from across the room. A few carefully timed hair-tosses and coquettish glances over the rim of your cocktail glass were all it took before he began making his way over.

Straightening your spine, you allowed one sculpted leg to arc provocatively as you prepared to reel your next victim in completely. This was the part you truly excelled at - donning whatever irresistible lure was required to ensnare your targets before coldly reaping them for your employer's highest bid.

Except this time, your eyes barely had a chance to flutter open with feigned demureness before a presence materialized beside your banquette like a wraith coalescing from the lounge's smoky shadows.

"There you are, my dearest wife. You really shouldn't wander off from me like that in places like this."

The flat, eerily toneless baritone sliced through the throbbing bassline and caused you to stiffen in stunned recognition. Because of course the insufferable Illumi Zoldyck would materialize to undermine you again right when you were working.

As if the netherworld's cruelest cosmic joke, the assassin slid into the booth beside you uninvited and shifted until his tailored form was plastered uncaringly against your side. One long arm snaked around your waist to draw you in tighter against his body in a shockingly intimate embrace.

"I-Illumi, what the hell do you think you're—" you tried to spit out through gritted teeth, but he cut you off.

"Darling, is that any way to greet your beloved husband after being separated for so long?" His tone remained that same mild, laconic drawl even as one corner of those soft lips curved slightly in a mockery of a fond smile.

The effect was undeniably unsettling...and also indescribably simmering in the most unfurly way your rational mind refused to dwell on right now.

You opened your mouth to angrily protest his absurd charade further, but Illumi made a clicking tutting sound before leaning in close enough for his fiery exhales to ghost your cheek.

"Play along nicely," he murmured in a tone that somehow made the innocuous endearment sound purgatorially hot against your skin. "Unless you'd like me to blow your cover over there and ruin all your hard work seducing that pathetic mark?"

The subtle tip of his chin indicated where your actual intended target had frozen halfway across the lounge floor. One beefy hand still outstretched from where he'd been rudely interrupted while on his prowl by this insane scene.

Jaw clenched in seething frustration, you nevertheless recognized the fact that Illumi had effortlessly gained the upper hand here as per usual. If you tried to slip away now, he'd no doubt make good on derailing your entire operation out of pure petty vindictiveness.

Which meant you had no choice except to allow the other assassin his little heterosexual homelife play, at least for the moment. Whatever deranged game of wits Illumi thought he was playing at, you'd find a way to subtly regain control sooner than later.

Favoring him with your sweetest, most vapid smile, you leaned in until your cheeks brushed provocatively together under the guise of issuing a fond greeting kiss between "lovers."

"There's my wonderfully overbearing darling," you practically purred with dripping saccharine against Illumi's jaw. "And here I was beginning to worry you'd never show up after keeping me waiting all this time..."

One elegant brow arched a hairsbreadth as Illumi allowed his palm to slip south and settle overtly possessive against your hip. The heat singeing the patterns his merciless fingertips traced there made it impossible to suppress a subtle shiver.

"Now now, pet..." The molten whisper vibrated straight through your sternum and pooled heavy in your abdomen. "We both know I'd never abandon such a deliciously...obedient wife for long."

He punctuated the provocative words by slanting you a weighted look rife with dark, unspoken promise. In that heated moment, it was impossible to tell if you were playing the part of wanton newlyweds or something...else entirely more intimate and primal.

One thing was certain - your night had irrevocably been knocked off its already unsteady axis courtesy of your most infuriatingly persistent rival.

And you had a sinking suspicion this was Illumi's idea of well-earned payback for all the delicious torment you'd put him through as of late.

Illumi's grip tightened infinitesimally against your hip as his gaze remained locked in that same simmering, unblinking stare. The two of you were rapidly spiraling into hazy, uncharted territory where realities seemed to blur and distort like a mirage's shimmering heatwaves.

Was this truly just some absurd, inexplicable attempt at sabotaging your mission objectives? Or had the circuitous game of provocations and heated oneupmanship between you progressed to the point of this being Illumi's next daring gambit to unravel you completely?

You found yourself momentarily adrift, unsure whether you should be playing along with the farce of his imposed "loving spouse" charade...or abandoning the pretense altogether in favor of something far more visceral. After all, didn't a situation like this technically represent yet another incendiary gauntlet offered between two willing combatants spoiling for their next pyric clash?

Just as you were weighing how to finally shatter the tension electrifying the air between your bodies, Illumi took the decision out of your hands. In one lithe, unsettlingly sensuous motion, he turned and swung one leg over your lap until he was straddling you brazenly.

"You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about getting you all to myself like this," he murmured in that same lethally mild cadence that somehow made every syllable drip with sinful intent. "Since our last...indulgence, the thought of tasting that pretty, defiant little mouth of yours again has been an agonizing craving, my dear, wicked wife."

The seemingly innocuous terms of endearment landed like smoldering brands against your already feverish skin. This was beyond even his usual provocations, beyond the taunting flirtations and increasingly blurred lines you'd been toying with together for months now.

No, this felt deeper...more primal. Like Illumi was showing his teeth at last in a truly unrestrained display of the blistering, unholy need both of you had been stoking to roaring life.

Still, you refused to surrender the upper hand - or what shredded composure remained - quite so easily. Arching one challenging brow, you shifted deliberately against his weight settled over your thighs and feigned an indolent stretch.

"Oh my, you certainly have a way with pretty words, don't you handsome?" you lilted with exaggerated nonchalance. "But we both know you'd never have the patience to indulge in all this unnecessary foreplay first."

Punctuating your veiled dare, you allowed one hand to drift upwards and cup the taut swell of Illumi's pectoral beneath the sleek tailoring of his suit. Tracing scorchingly deliberate lines along the defined ridges and valleys there in an utterly unambiguous caress.

"Why don't you get around to showing this supposedly wicked wife of yours just how thorough your...appetites truly are instead of wasting both of our time?"

The resounding crash of glass shattering against the far side of the lounge barely even registered over the sudden, leaden weight of tension surging like a riptide between you at your provocative words. Every atom of the known universe seemed to grind to a screeching halt, awaiting Illumi's reaction with bated finality.

Then, like ignition finding an oxyacetylene mix, every last thread of that fabled Zoldyck restraint appeared to unspool in one fell immolation behind those blazing dark eyes. His entire frame stilled to such dead raptorial focus that you nearly missed the hairline fractures of composed control now webbing across his chiseled features.

When he spoke at last, the words emerged in a rough, gravel-laced rasp so devastatingly virile your core clenched in reflexive response.

"Game...bloody...on, then."

And with that softly intoned vow laced with portent, Illumi's hips rolled forward in one lethally precise undulation tailored to grind his hardening cock against your molten center. Stoking the smoldering embers now blazing between you anew as you surrendered to this latest, most brutal round of chicken.

A harsh gasp punched from your lungs before you could strangle it at the shockwaves of searing friction radiating from Illumi's calculated grind against your sensitized flesh. He felt it too - the infinitesimal tremor racing through your joined bodies - if the way his piercing stare sharpened into dark, unholy approval was any indication.

"I-Illumi..." you managed to rasp out in what was meant as an admonition. But the breathy quaver twisting your tone transformed the utterance into something far more akin to pleading persuasion.

Damn him for always managing to unravel you so utterly with even the subtlest of calculated provocations. This entire scenario was quickly spiraling beyond the boundaries of playful oneupmanship and into territories unexplored...and highly dangerous for ones of your ilk to tread.

Summoning the tattered remnants of your restraint, you settled both palms firmly against the assassin's powerful chest with the intent of forcibly creating space. Of regaining whatever tenuous grasp on rational control one of you still possessed before--

The scorching words that spilled like sin from Illumi's lips shattered that feeble line of defense before you could even draw your next strained inhalation.

"Yes..." he husked, each consonant seeming to etch itself into your very marrow. "Say my name like that again, wife. Let me hear that honeyed desperation dripping from your lips just once more."

Punctuating the dark command, he shifted subtly, rearranging his weight so that those merciless hips ground down in another searing, lushly undulating roll that dragged deliciously against your scorched center.

A strangled, mewling sound you didn't recognize as your own punched from your core at the rapturous assault. Every atom of your existence suddenly seemed to white out into pure electrified nerves pulsing in exquisite, delirious rapture at Illumi's continued calculated onslaught.

Some distant, fraying part of your consciousness registered that you were rapidly losing whatever strategic foothold remained in regaining control of this rapidly devolving situation. Illumi was a grand master at subjugation through the sheer merciless application of exquisitely unleashed desire.

And with your restraints being whittled to shreds beneath that implacable storm of his relentlessly stoked passions, it was only a matter of agonizing moments before you succumbed to the lancing siren call and surrendered everything to its searing raptures...

Clawing for one final, flimsy lifeline of composure, you rasped out a desperate deflection laced with as much hauteur as you could desperately muster through the fractures in your mask.

"Y-You arrogant...ingrate," you managed to grit out with a defiant curl of your lips. "Did you really think this pathetic attempt at mind games would be enough to make me buckle to your vile appetites?"

As if dealing the deathblow to any delusion you wielded the upper hand, Illumi arched one eloquent brow and delivered a punishingly precise hip roll that sent galaxies of white-hot exquisite rapture blazing through your shuddering form.

"We'll just have to see about that now, won't we...pet?"

And with one last salacious grind of his weight settled fully over your now trembling thighs, Illumi suddenly disengaged. His formidable frame rising from your tangled forms in one effortlessly sinuous motion, leaving you utterly disoriented and bereft in the smoldering wake of his denial.

"Wait--" The pleading syllable wrenched itself free before you could mercifully strangle it. But by then Illumi was already turning on his heel to melt back into the dizzying lounge's shadows with that same inscrutable half-smile ghosting the firm line of his mouth.

When your lust-addled brain finally reconnected with reality, the jacquard evidence of your unwound state remained prominently displayed in your lap as a dark, taunting promise. One Illumi clearly had no compunctions leaving you to wrestle with as the ultimate testament to your loss of control in this latest round.

The silken flogger's tails slipped through your uncoordinated fingers as you attempted to rise unsteadily to your feet, every fiber of your being strung taut and vibrating like a live wire brought to the searing edge of rapturous obliteration without release.

When next you and your incessantly provoking rival crossed paths, this latest slight would not go unanswered.

One way...or literally another.

The dingy back-alley reeked of stale city grit and burnt adrenaline as you slipped through the shadows towards your target's ramshackle hideout. This was meant to be a clean, straightforward operation - tail the mark, neutralize him while he was unaware, collect payment, ghost away into the night once more.

At least, that's what should have transpired if the universe hadn't seen fit to thoroughly upend your best-laid calculations yet again.

You sensed his disquieting presence a split-second before the shadows themselves seemed to coalesce that lithe, unsettlingly familiar form beside you. Of course the insufferable Illumi Zoldyck would materialize to undermine your objective, just like every other infuriating time your paths intersected.

"You again..." you hissed lowly, muscles instinctively coiling as your free hand strayed towards the concealed blade at your hip. "What are you doing here, Zoldyck?"

One dark brow arched fractionally as Illumi regarded you with that same unshakable, vaguely reptilian calm he always exuded on the job. As if you weren't even worth the trouble of being rattled, let alone engaged with directly.

"Isn't it obvious?" came his flat response after a loaded pause. "We've been hired for the same mark again. Although at this rate, I have to start questioning whether you're simply stalking me on purpose."

You scoffed harshly at the barb, fighting to ignore the familiar flutter of that delicious, precarious tension now crackling between your bodies with the ease of long practice. As if the sight of this particular rival alone wasn't enough to set your pulse thundering precipitously these days.

"You're delusional as always if you think I have any interest in your company beyond putting a dagger in your back," you growled, squaring off into an unmistakably confrontational stance. "Either get out of my way, or--"

"Or what?" Illumi cut you off smoothly, somehow managing to loom over you despite the scant inches separating your heights. "You'll attempt to make a show of seducing me as usual? We've been down this fruitless road before, pet. Many times now."

His piercing stare somehow seemed to undress you down to your thrumming marrow despite every stitch of clothing firmly in place. Daring you with those banked embers searing behind hooded lids to finally be the first to ignite the maelstrom openly raging between you beyond the point of control.

You opened your mouth to hurl back a cutting retort...and in that infinitesimal window of distraction, a harsh clatter sounded from the abandoned building.

Both your heads whipped around in unison as the mark burst through the rear egress with a startled cry, clearly spooked by your presences lurking nearby. He didn't so much as register your outstretched forms before wheeling and bolting towards the narrow alley's mouth with startling swiftness.

"You imbecile!" Illumi snarled in a rare show of true anger as he exploded into pursuit. "Don't let him—"

But you were already moving, fury propelling your strides into a flat sprint as you flung yourself into the chase with wild abandon. This contract was yours, damn his interference, and you'd carved out your grisly reputation bathed in the sorts of stunts that would see lesser assassins martyred without quarter.

The world compressed into a howling vortex of thundering adrenaline as you rapidly closed the scant distance separating you and the panicking mark. Some distant, rational part of you registered Illumi's pounding strides tight on your heels like a mercilessly inexorable shadow about to swallow the both of you whole.

You were almost close enough to reach out and seize your quarry's flailing coattails...when he veered sharply towards a narrow side street and hurled a discarded plank of scrap lumber directly into your hurtling path.

The unexpected projectile caught you squarely in the midsection with crushing force, punching the air from your lungs in a devastated rush.

You doubled over, gasping for escaped breath as Illumi predictably shouldered past you without a shred of hesitation or concern for your well-being. Even as you flailed, temporarily winded on the verge of blacking out, his tenacious footfalls rapidly faded up the side alley as he relentlessly pursued the mark alone.

That insufferable, ruthless, single-minded--

The blistering haze of fury galvanized your senses back into razor-sharp clarity just in time to steady your strides. Honing every atom of your being into a fine, piercing point of lethal focus as you rounded the corner after them with scarcely a moment's delay.

The sight that awaited you, however, was one you could never have anticipated in a thousand lifetimes of assassination.

The narrow side street was utterly deserted apart from Illumi standing frozen in the center, body taut as a bowstring yet somehow radiating palpable waves of disbelief and restrained fury.

You felt your own volcanic anger briefly stunted as you took in the bizarre scene, gaze hastily tracking for any sign of the mark. There was nothing - no cowering form stuffed in a nook, no telltale scuffs indicating his path of escape. It was as if the wretched target had simply...vanished into thin air.

"What the hell happened?" you bit out once close enough for Illumi to inevitably sense your presence beside him. "Don't tell me that after all your bravado, the sniveling coward actually managed to evade the great Illumi Zoldyck too."

His jaw tightened infinitesimally at your barbed taunt, shoulders squaring like a panther preparing to leap as he finally pivoted to face you head-on. Up close, you could make out the scorching embers flickering to lurid life behind those onyx depths.

"On the contrary," he gritted out in that terribly mild tone that somehow laced every syllable with simmering menace. "Your blundering ineptitude is what allowed this failure to transpire."

You scoffed harshly at the accusation, rigor returning to your muscles as you matched Illumi's defensive stance in an instinctive mirror. "That's rich coming from a self-aggrandizing fool who couldn't neutralize a sedated invalid without making an operatic spectacle of it!"

"I had the situation well in hand," he fired back without missing a beat, somehow managing to loom inches from your face despite the negligible difference separating your statures. So close, in fact, that you were forced to tip your chin upwards as his heated breaths fanned scorching patterns across your cheekbones. "It was your delayed involvement that provided our mark with the opening to flee in the first place."

Some distant part of your consciousness recognized the perilous territory you were both veering towards - the razor-thin tightrope separating this heated confrontation and the sort of unfettered conflagration destined to consume you if either slipped. Every muscle quivered with rigorous discipline as you fought against the molten urge to simply surge forward and unleash the full tempest howling between your strained bodies.

But Illumi's uncanny gaze glittered with something darker, more primal than usual professional antagonism. Like he recognized the churning cusp you stood balanced upon just as acutely...and was silently daring you to make the first calamitous leap over the edge into oblivion.

"Just admit you're in over your inferior skull and stand down before you truly become a liability," he murmured in a soft, smoke-laced rasp that somehow brooked no compromise. "This assignment requires a defter hand than your usual heavy-handed antics can provide."

The patronizing undercurrent sliced straight through whatever tattered self-restraint you'd been clinging to like a man overboard clutching driftwood. Something inside you finally snapped with an almost audible reverberation as every ounce of pent-up tension detonated in searing release.

The next thing you registered was your fist impacting Illumi's chiseled jaw with a resounding thunk of impact, snapping his head aside with enough force to splinter bone on a lesser assassin. A bloom of crimson erupted from his nostril, trailing garnet rivulets down towards those merciless lips.

You staggered backwards, chest heaving rapid breaths that didn't come close to slaking the bonfire ignited in your veins. Illumi simply remained rooted where he stood, expression inscrutable as he slowly turned that penetrating obsidian stare back towards you.

Measuring every scintilla of your disheveled, furiously wound state with those hooded lids brimming embers of primal promise...and incendiary approval at what he found blazing there.

In that infinite breath, the entire universe ground to a standstill around you - awaiting one minuscule push to send it all spiraling gloriously, unstoppably, into rapturous cataclysm.

"Well then..." Illumi husked at last as his lips curved into an unholy grin of salacious satisfaction. "I suppose we're finally going to see which of us breaks first after all these heated dalliances, little assassin..."

A heartbeat of leaden suspension stretched between you, trembling on that ultimate precipice as the decision hovered suspended on a wisp of fate.

Then, as if tasting release on the arid desert wind for the first time, the flood walls fractured and the deluge came raging through.

Your second haymaker slammed into Illumi's jaw with enough brutal force to make even his preternatural reflexes falter. He absorbed the bone-rattling impact with an animalistic grunt, dark eyes blazing like newly stoked coals in the instant before he retaliated.

One calloused palm whipped up to snare your wrist mid-swing before you could unleash a third wild strike. With almost negligent ease, he wrenched your arm back across your body until your back collided with the alley's grungy brickwork. The breath punched from your lungs in a harsh wheeze as Illumi pinned you there, bodies aligned in searing alignment from crown to toe.

For one suspended eternity, you remained frozen in that tableau - potential combatants sizing each other up before mutually deciding to discard the final tottering remnants of restraint instead. The maelstrom neither of you had possessed the discipline to resist any longer.

Then, as if some cosmic switch had been thrown, you simultaneously surged forward to crash together like superheated bodies in an unstoppable fusion reaction.

Illumi's hands were everywhere, mercilessly possessive as they clamped around your waist and hips to haul your weight flush against his powerful frame. Your own fingers fisted into the starched lapels of his jacket with bruising intensity, relishing the harsh judder of muscle and bone you felt beneath fine linen.

His lips slanted over yours in a calculated brand of pure possession, tongue spearing past your parted defenses to stake its dominance with each scorching duel. You gasped shudderingly into the onslaught, giving as ravenously as you received while surrendering to the searing tidal wave of need crashing through your veins.

Somewhere distantly, the night sky above shuddered with the banshee wail of sirens and the cacophonous thunder of the city's lifeblood roiling all around you. But the rest of the world may as well have ceased revolving entirely for how little you registered outside this infinitesimal maelstrom of sensation and primal, unholy rapture.

You were the sole wellspring and terminus, the stratonic forces converging in an explosive lambda implosion that would render everything beyond to smoldering ash within its transfigurative wake.

Illumi broke the liplock only to trail his merciless ministrations along the vulnerable curve of your neck, teeth and tongue staking out lush patterns of possession as he went. Each harsh scrape and searing exhalation sent fresh shockwaves of electrified need straight to your thrumming core. You arched shamelessly into his frame, silently pleading for more of his exquisite ruination through the spiral of rapidly deteriorating control.

Any last vestige of proprietary fled as your wandering hands sought out the hard, flexing ridges of Illumi's body sheathed beneath perfectly tailored fabric. Stroking, teasing, peeling layers back to uncover more and more of his predatory brutality clawing vindictively to the surface now. You were utterly intoxicated on it - the raw, uninhibited power radiating from Illumi's very essence as all the tangled threads of restraint frayed into oblivion between your devouring bodies.

This was the long-overdue precipice you'd been balancing upon since that very first, fateful clash between professional talents. An inevitability distilled and condensed down to its purest molecular essence until only one irrefutable terminus remained - searing raptures and utter, irrevocable ruination for whatever dared linger on after.

The sharp snap of fabric being rent from its seam jolted your senses back to the moment just as Illumi's hands slipped beneath the hem of your top. He tore his mouth from the bruised hollow of your throat with a harsh gasp, chest heaving with the same ragged respirations racking your own form.

His pupils were blown wide, black as the void behind the glittering, unfettered flames licking across their surface. As if the sight of you, already thoroughly undone beneath his hands, was the most beautiful, rapturous vision he'd ever witnessed in his lifetime.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before his hands were at your waist, lifting you with preternatural ease until your thighs locked instinctively around his hips and your back hit the unforgiving brickwork. His palms slid up to settle beneath the supple curves of your ass, gripping so fiercely you suspected the prints would be tattooed there for weeks to come.

Illumi rolled his pelvis in a slow, languorous undulation that made your head drop back with a desperate mewl. The rigid heat straining against his slacks dragged tortuously across the soaked front of your leggings, the friction sending molten shivers ricocheting through every atom of your body.

He repeated the motion with that same agonizing rhythm, savoring every strangled cry and breathless plea that spilled from your lips at his leisurely torment. Until the only words remaining in your vocabulary were a garbled litany of his name and a fevered begging for more.

You'd never felt such unbridled, visceral need before, a tempestuous vortex of pure fire and electricity threatening to devour you from the inside out if he didn't satiate it right here and now.

Illumi's teeth were suddenly at your neck again, dragging along the delicate pulse fluttering beneath your jaw with a growl that seemed to originate from the very pits of hell. "So impatient," he chastised against the delicate shell of your ear, the gravel-laced baritone dripping with pure sin. "My impatient, wanton little wife."

Before you could protest, his hips snapped forward with a force that stole the air from your lungs and rattled your very bones. Every nerve ignited, the white-hot pleasure-pain so exquisite it nearly sent you spiraling over the edge right then and there.

You clung to his broad shoulders for dear life, the seams of your leggings stretching thin as Illumi's relentless pistoning threatened to shred the fabric altogether. Each ruthless thrust of his hips drove his cock against the molten seam of your center, grinding his thick, straining ridge over your clit with unerring precision.

Your climax was rapidly coiling to the bursting point, every atom of your being strung to fever pitch as you careened towards the inevitable, obliterating oblivion. Illumi's mouth had resumed its merciless assault on the sensitive hollow of your neck, sucking and biting with punishing intent until you were certain there'd be no mistaking the marks left behind.

As if every inch of your body wasn't already branded indelibly by his touch, the thought of being left with tangible, lingering proof of his claiming stoked the inferno inside you to a roaring frenzy.

The seams of your leggings finally gave way just as Illumi tugged his own pants down, the fabric tearing beneath the relentless friction of Illumi's assault. You felt the unmistakable drag of bare flesh against slick flesh and moaned shamelessly. The thought of him rutting you bare and open, fully exposed and vulnerable to his whims, should have been a blistering red flag. Instead, it was all that was needed to catapult you over the edge into the abyss.

Illumi's fingers tightened punishingly on your ass as your body shattered around him, the ecstasy so intense it sent every atom of your consciousness whiting out. His own ragged groan against your throat was the only warning before the scalding heat of his release pulsed across your skin, the liquid heat seeping down the back of your thighs in searing rivulets.

Without warning, your entire reality tilted and shifted. In the next instant, you registered the rough stone of a different wall digging into your spine as Illumi slammed you bodily into the adjacent building. His weight pressed you there, pinning your writhing form into place while he continued rutting against your slick, aching folds with a newfound frenzy.

The overstimulation was so overwhelming, the sensation verging on the edge of pain, yet you couldn't summon the willpower to make him stop. Instead, you clung to his powerful shoulders and rode out the delirious storm as another, even more brutal climax crested like a tsunami over the horizon.

The next thing you registered was Illumi's scorching mouth sealed over yours, devouring your strangled cry as a second wave of mind-numbing rapture detonated through your form. Some distant corner of your consciousness registered him pulsing another hot, scalding flood of cum against the small of your back before his weight slumped bonelessly into your heaving body.

Illumi didn’t bother breaking the kiss, the languid slide of his tongue and lips against yours so unhurried and thorough it seemed like he was attempting to brand himself onto every last molecule of your being. You responded in kind, relishing the salty musk and iron tang still clinging to his lips and the rough scrape of stubble along his jawline.

Your fingers had drifted into his silken locks, combing through the soft tresses that spilled freely down his shoulders and tickled your collarbone. Illumi hummed approvingly against your mouth, his own hands sliding up the planes of your sides until they cupped the weight of your breasts.

The dexterous pads of his fingers traced teasing, spiraling patterns around the peaks of your nipples until they tightened and throbbed beneath the attention. Then he pinched them between his thumb and forefingers, rolling and tugging the engorged tips in time with his plundering tongue until you were writhing anew beneath him.

Illumi had somehow managed to hitch your thighs higher, hooking your knees over his elbows and spreading you wider, allowing the new position to press his half-hardened length even more deeply against your molten core.

The sudden friction had your head falling back against the stone with a thunk and a moan, the overstimulation too much yet somehow not nearly enough all at once.

He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, taking his time to trace the delicate line of your collarbones with his lips before sinking his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. A guttural sound wrenched itself free from the depths of your chest, your fingernails raking punishing lines down his shoulder blades as his mouth sucked a livid bruise into your skin.

You couldn’t take it anymore, the unrelenting onslaught of his sensual attack too much for your overwrought nerves to endure. Twining your fingers into his hair, you dragged Illumi up until your lips were hovering scant inches apart.

Your voice emerged a rough, rasping wreck when you finally managed to force the words out. "Illumi...fuck, please, I need--"

His fingers tightened fractionally around your throat, the pressure just light enough to stifle the flow of air without restricting it entirely. "You will learn to beg properly for my affections, wife," he husked in that devastatingly lethal tenor that sent another wave of molten heat spiraling through your core.

"Please," you breathed, no longer caring about the shameful, desperate edge threading your voice. "Illumi, I need you. Need you inside me. Now."

Something in his impossibly dark eyes seemed to shift at that, the banked embers smoldering behind his hooded gaze suddenly flickering to raging conflagrations. With a low snarl, he claimed your mouth in a bruising, devouring kiss as he finally, mercifully lined his now-aching cock up with your weeping entrance.

The first searing, aching stretch was almost enough to make you come apart again right then and there. The delicious burn of his girth and the delicious friction as he slowly bottomed out had you reeling, nails digging furrows into the flesh of his shoulders as you arched up against him.

Illumi's pace was relentless, hips snapping with brutal, punishing thrusts that rocked you deeper into the brickwork with each punishing stroke. Your world narrowed to nothing but the overwhelming heat and fullness, the unhinged pleasure-pain that threatened to consume you whole.

Your third release slammed into you with all the force of a tidal wave, the sheer intensity so overwhelming that you couldn't even muster a cry as the rapture consumed your senses. Illumi followed shortly after, burying his face into the crook of your neck and groaning a curse that would have made a sailor blush as his cock pulsed a scorching flood into your spasming core.

He didn't move to disengage right away, continuing to pin you against the wall with his weight and nuzzling soft kisses along your collarbone while you both caught your breaths. The tender ministrations were at such odds with the wild, uninhibited fucking you'd just been subjected to that you found yourself wondering if this was the real Illumi Zoldyck. The assassin stripped down to the most human, vulnerable part of his psyche...the part that had been hidden from the rest of the world for so long.

The thought made your heart do something dangerous and complicated that you chose to ignore for the moment. Instead, you let him continue lavishing affection on your skin, the featherlight kisses gradually growing less languid and more insistent.

When his hips rolled forward with a newfound urgency, you let him guide one leg to curl around his waist and moaned as his cock sank even more deeply into you. He was already fully hard again, his thrusts gradually gaining momentum as the familiar, electric tension coiled and built between your joined bodies once more.

Just as you felt yourself careening towards the edge of oblivion, Illumi suddenly pulled out. The loss was so shocking and abrupt that a ragged gasp punched from your throat as you reflexively reached out for his broad shoulders. But Illumi was already moving, turning you so that your palms hit the cool stone and your hips jutted back at a sharp angle.

He guided your legs further apart and nudged his cock against the puffy, dripping seam of your center once more. When you bucked backwards and keened with desperation, he finally granted mercy and buried himself to the hilt with a single, powerful thrust.

Illumi's palm settled at the base of your neck, pressing just enough to tilt your head backwards as he leaned down to rasp hotly against the shell of your ear. "You'll come undone with me this time, little wife. So be a good girl and take it."

And then, without warning, his other hand snaked down to circle the aching, throbbing bundle of nerves above where you were stretched impossibly wide around him. Illumi's thrusts grew more punishing, fingers dancing an infuriating, featherlight pattern over your clit in counterpoint.

Within moments, the dual assault had you shuddering and moaning his name shamelessly, pleading for the sweet release that was just out of reach. You were so close - almost, almost, almost--

Then Illumi pinched your clit between his forefinger and thumb and you fell apart with a ragged scream, vision whiting out into pure, unending oblivion as he continued fucking you through the climax. He only allowed you a few precious moments to recover before he was pulling out once more, turning you roughly in his arms until he could hoist you up and pin your back against the wall.

Illumi didn't even bother waiting for your legs to hook around his hips, simply hitching you up by the thighs until your dripping slit was level with his cock and slid back inside with one smooth motion. The new angle had him hitting even deeper than before, every thrust of his hips slamming home until the breath was driven from your lungs and you could do nothing but cling to his powerful shoulders and surrender to his unrelenting domination.

Your fifth release left you a limp, shaking mess in his arms, the only thing holding you aloft being the strength of his powerful arms and the unyielding hardness buried to the hilt inside you. As if sensing the limits of your endurance, Illumi's pace quickened, his thrusts growing more frantic and erratic.

The moment his lips crashed into yours and he began to pulse hot, wet streaks against your fluttering walls, a sixth climax exploded through you out of nowhere. You were well aware of the embarrassingly intense gush of juices spraying between your bodies, the lewd sound so wet and obscene you felt yourself blush furiously.

But Illumi simply growled his approval into your mouth, the sound rumbling all the way through your joined bodies as he kept fucking you through the climax. He was still rock-hard, the friction so delicious and the sensation of his cock stroking along every swollen, hypersensitive inch of you so overwhelming that it was almost enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Then his fingers were on your clit again, circling with a newfound precision that had the breath punched from your lungs and a sob ripped from your lips. Illumi didn't relent, continuing his ministrations while simultaneously slamming his cock against your abused, tender cervix until the overstimulation had you reeling and writhing desperately.

"One more, little wife," he commanded, voice hoarse and raw. "I know you have one more in you. Give it to me."

The sheer authority in his tone sent you crashing over the edge for the seventh time, the force of your orgasm so intense that you blacked out for a split-second. The only thing keeping you tethered to reality was Illumi's bruising grip and the relentless pounding of his cock into your spasming channel.

When his hips stuttered and his breath hissed out through his teeth, you braced yourself for the scalding flood that would follow. But he pulled out at the last instant, his thick release spraying across your bare breasts and stomach instead.

He pumped his cock vigorously, milking every last drop of the hot, pearly liquid until you were streaked with it from collarbone to navel. Then Illumi leaned forward and sealed his mouth over yours, his tongue sliding languidly through your parted lips as he pressed his still-rigid length against the slick, puffy seam of your center.

"One more, love," he murmured into your mouth, the tenderness in his tone so unexpected it sent a sharp pang echoing through your chest. "Don’t worry. I’ll give your pussy a break. I promise."

The sudden emptiness as Illumi's cock slipped from between your folds was almost unbearable. You whimpered softly, hips rocking instinctively as he shifted his grip on your thighs. Then the broad head of his shaft was nudging against a different opening, the blunt pressure so sudden and overwhelming that your breath locked in your lungs.

"Relax," Illumi coached gently, hands sliding soothingly up and down the backs of your thighs as he slowly, steadily inched his way inside. "Have you done this before?"

"No," you admitted in a shaky whisper, fingers flexing where they were still latched around his neck.

He paused in his gentle exploration, his obsidian gaze boring into yours with such intensity it seemed to strip every last ounce of restraint away. "Good," he rasped, his voice so gravelly and low you could practically feel the vibration of it against your very bones. "That's exactly how I want you, little wife. Just for me. My little, innocent, perfect little wife..."

Illumi's words were an erotic litany, a brand against your skin with every syllable and thrust. He was so deep inside you, deeper than he'd ever been, filling every inch and crevice so perfectly.

The ache was almost too much, the stretch bordering on painful yet so exquisite you could scarcely stand it. You couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't even form a coherent thought beyond the single, primal urge to hold onto him and never let go.

So that's exactly what you did.

"I love you."

The confession came from so far out of left field, it took you a moment to realize that you were the one who'd spoken the words. They were true, though - so true it was like the entire universe had suddenly crystallized around the simple, undeniable truth.

It was terrifying and liberating all at once, the sort of revelation that would change everything.

"Illumi, I--"

But he silenced you with a kiss that was almost chaste, a sweet, gentle brush of his lips that somehow carried more emotion than a thousand filthy promises could convey.

"I love you, too."

And when he began moving inside you again, the achingly tender strokes were so at odds with his earlier carnal savagery that the sensation was almost enough to shatter you into a million pieces all over again.

He held you throughout, whispering the softest, most tender confessions into your skin as the pleasure slowly built and crested. You came with a sob, a fresh rush of wetness soaking the place where you were joined as his name spilled from your lips over and over.

Illumi followed shortly after, his cock twitching and pulsing in time with each searing flood until you were completely, utterly spent. His seed leaked out in sticky rivulets as he pulled out at last, a combination of both your juices now trickling down the insides of your thighs.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Illumi simply continued to hold you, his forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath fanned across your cheekbones. You basked in the closeness, letting the silence cocoon around the both of you as the rest of the world ceased to exist beyond the circle of his arms.

At last, he spoke, his words so soft and low they nearly got lost in the night air. "My family is very traditional. There are...certain expectations they have for a first-born son."

A leaden weight settled in the pit of your stomach, dread coalescing into a cold, hard knot that threatened to steal the breath from your lungs. You already had a sneaking suspicion you knew where this was going, but you couldn't bring yourself to voice the question.

Illumi, however, seemed to understand your silent plea regardless. "You would make a lovely wife for me, little assassin," he whispered, his voice somehow managing to carry every ounce of warmth and reassurance you needed to hear. His hand drifted downward to stroke your belly, the lightest of pressures yet enough to convey the unspoken implication behind his words.

"And I’m pretty sure I just fucked a baby into you, so-"

[yumistr]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃.

୨୧ : 𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝓍𝓍 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 . ࣪⊹ ݁ ˖

" her whole world comes crumbling down when his friends mess around with her test , the girl returning the favor of messing up their faces as a thank you. "

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀.⠀⠀afab!reader. use of she/her pronouns. references to WHC1 kdrama. virgin!reader. violence. gore mentions. major injuries. wound aiding. crying. corruption. dry humping. exhibitionism. cunnilingus. dacryphilia. manhandling. fingering. spanking. pussy slapping. choking. begging. praise. pet names (brat, princess, good girl, pretty). marking. gagging. ⟡ : 𝘄𝗰.⠀10.2k. ⠀ 🏷️ : @screampied @dollicries @marimogf

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ

“you drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

MONDAY⠀|⠀11:35 AM

⠀

ᡴꪫ⠀"𝓢o, what’d ya get, hm?" comparing scores was always something you seemed to rather enjoy. at least with the man who was the only other student in your university that was on-par with your sheer intelligence.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his intimidating and leering glare would scare off anyone else on campus, anyone else but you. you weren’t afraid of him like the others were. sure, he was almost seven feet tall and had the figure of a professional bodybuilder, yet he was still as much of a nerd as you were. his delinquent personality and aggressive behaviors were nothing compared to his raw intellect that he tried oh so dearly to shield beneath his broad chest. it didnt take a genius to see right through his pathetic attempts at acting; that genius being you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, you knew all too well that he’d pummel your face in if you ever even dared to mention it, so your lips were sealed tighter than a noose.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"hop off, will ya? y’re such a drag, brat," the man groaned in response, pushing aside the paper you shoved into his face all the while he removed his textbook from atop his own test.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your face had never dropped faster in your life. you were in utter disbelief as your delicate fingers snatched his test up, bringing the white sheet so close to your face the words were going to jump right out at you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"a hundred and one?!?! are you kidding me?!!” scoffed and irritated, you tossed his paper back in his face, Sukuna shooting a demeaning grin at you in return.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀baffled would be an entire understatement of how you felt. and that goddamn pearly white smile he bore into your figure was not any better. he loved the attitude drop you contorted anytime you were once again let down and reminded of who the actual top student was, no matter how much you tried to overcome him. he’d always be one step ahead of you, even if you stayed up for an entire week studying as if it were a religion; he could sleep and not attend class, and would still manage to one up you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it drove you mad. he drove you mad.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"puñeta cabrón. tu puta madre, ay dío!" ( damn bastard. you mother fucker, oh my )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sukuna loved nothing more than making you mad, solely because he had a guilty pleasure for seeing how your eyes narrowed down at him. how you’d have that singular vein prodding the side of your head like a stray wire. how you’d huff at him without a single thing to respond with aside from your usually spanish curses, something he could listen to on repeat. even if the only time you ever talked to him you got annoyed, at least your attention was on him and not one of the other low life guys who were no good for you, let alone even on your skill level.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the man would never have the balls to admit it. not when your ego was already your entire personality and you knew how everyone wanted you, though your interest was more involved in the small text boxes that littered your school books.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chuckles rumbled from the core of his chest, low eyes following your figure (your ass) as you swiftly pivoted your heels in the direction of Aoi Todo’s desk. the sight nicked Sukuna’s nerves, his jaw clenching with nothing but pure irritation whirling within his crimson eyes. exasperated scoffs we’re the only thing he could utter, lightly shaking his head and gazing out the classroom window at an attempt to calm himself down.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the already tightly-fitted fabric of his uniform only grew dense with every rigid breath he took. with how harsh he was breathing through his nose, he could start a damn fire. though, he’d never admit to being the possessive type. he could barely see how he was already obsessed with you, denying every factual thought he had about it. he was hardheaded. stubborn. irritably headstrong, of course. not over his dead body would he openly confess his dark desires.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was absolutely no help at all that you were also a virgin. everyone knew, as weird as it sounded. well, none of them had the guts to ask you to confirm, but with how deep your nose was in a text book twenty-four-seven, it wouldn’t take much effort to come to the conclusion.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀just the thought of Sukuna’s dick being the one to pop that sweet cherry of yours, oh how he’d kill to do so. call him a pervert, he could care less, he just wanted a taste. even if it was just for a second. god, what he’d do for it. it’d definitely be a change from the women who threw themselves at him daily, the man unable to genuinely get off to their screeching sounds as he rammed them senseless.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀though, your back was turned to him as you sat diligently atop your desk with your fangirls friends surrounding you, all he could think about were his devilish desires. the ones he only had for you even though you were supposed to be his rival. arch nemesis. whatever the fuck those corny rom-com movies call two academic rivals. if he wanted, he could easily give up and let you be the top student, but that’d mean he wouldn’t be able to hear the sweet utterance of your voice every morning, or the satisfying sounds of your heels clicking down towards his desk after each test.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"hey, class prez, ya forgot this in the gym," an annoyingly high-pitched voice broke Sukuna from his dazed trance on you, cold eyes averting to the blue-haired idiot he called a friend that had approached you with your tumbler.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a soft gasped slipped beneath your plump lips, legs uncrossing whilst you lowered yourself onto the polished floor and gently grabbing your belonging from his grasp. two arms snaked his shoulders and a sudden plush force was pressed against his own chest. to say he tensed up, he’d be lying. he froze entirely, unsure what had happened within the millisecond he took to blink.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀right before Sukuna’s eyes, you had clung yourself to Mahito, of all goddamn people. your heels were lifted from the ground as your ass could almost be visibly seen from beneath the school’s uniform skirt. oh how he’d give anything to rip Mahito from your grasp and replace it. the sight was nauseating, Mahito’s hands traveling dangerously low on your back, rimming the edges of your skirt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mahito could feel Sukuna burning gaze searing holes through his body, a tethering fire brewing in the pits of his stomach the longer you strayed on his body.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"heh, i-it was no problem, really." he coughed up after a tender “thank you” was brought from your mouth.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with a soft shove and maneuver, Mahito had slipped from your touch and cautiously made his way to the back of the class. if looks could kill, he’d have been buried the moment your arms even grazed his school blazer.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"hah, you’re one ballsy motherfucker," Haruta’s sly words had more than one meaning to them, and Mahito knew what he was provoking at. Shooting the idiotic blonde a narrowed gaze, Mahito smacked his hand behind his head, a ‘tch’ sound weaving its way into his threat for Haruta to shut up.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuck r’ya talkin’ about?" Sukuna chimed into the pairs altercation, Mahito slumping himself into his seat that was situated in the row next to Sukuna, a seat behind Haruta. Suspicions were high, and the blue-haired fucker was definitely on Sukuna’s list. he didn’t like not one thing about his attitude, or tone of voice.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"it’s nothin’, don’t worry about it. he’s just talking out of his fucking ass,” gritting his teeth through the last few words, Mahito flicked the back of Haruta’s head, the blonde yet again wincing at his self-inflicted injuries.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with one last glance at the two, Sukuna scoffed and rolled his eyes prior to reverting back at you. whatever they did, not like he cared as long as it didn’t involve you. it couldn’t be that bad anyways.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your favorite part of exam-taking was checking your answers afterwards. the satisfaction that settled within your body anytime they called out the correct choice, and you got it right, it was a sort of a euphoric endurance. you already knew that you’d get it right, you always did, but the reassurance was something you lived for.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, this time was far from being the same.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀besides the fact you could feel your eyes growing droopier and droopier the longer the exam went on, you also could barely feel your fingers as they grazed the tethered fabric of the test papers. each time you tried to wash away the suffocating apprehension with a nice sip from your tumbler, your body only felt worse, reluctantly obliging to the state it craved dearly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀even after slapping some sense into yourself, causing nothing but a scene in the midst of a serious exam, you still couldn’t ward off the irritable feeling that flowed through your bloodstream.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"five .. three .." the answers repeated in your head like a nursery rhyme, your clouded mind trying to find out where you went wrong. how you could slip up so deliberately like a damn idiot in a circus act.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀nothing made sense. none of it. at all.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you studied relentlessly. skipped meals. drowned yourself in energy drinks. kept your bed cold and empty for days on end, just so you could retain all and every last bit of information that you needed to pass the exam. you used your best notebooks, best recommended supplies to better aid your studies. and somehow, in some godawful way, you still missed them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your teeth ricocheted off one another, jaw clenched so tight it could slice through fine print. indents were clawing themself through the flesh of your palms, nails delving deeply into your skin that cut off all blood circulation in them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'cabrona.' you thought,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'cabrona. cabrona. cabrona.' repetition was the only thing traveling through the veins in your brain, aside from the evident self-hatred.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the sound of a fellow classmates tumbler being set on the ground brought you out of your daze, eyelashes fluttering heavily as you peered up at yours. a sort of lightbulb almost going off the moment you landed on your own. with glassy eyes and numb fingertips; your quivering hand reached for the container, in utter disbelief at what could possibly be inside.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'no .. ellos no tendrían ..’ ( no .. they wouldn’t have .. )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀though, the sounds of minimal laughter lingering from the back of the class sent chills spiraling down your back, dispersing through your body the minute it hit your core. white walls were the only thing in mind, a ringing sensation zipping through your ears whilst the realization alas set it. boys will be boys, teachers would say.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀but, to hell with that shit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀before you could even have a chance to decipher who did what, or what substance was exactly coursing your veins, your legs had already dragged you down the row of desks behind you. your vision was still a bit of a blur, much like it was during the exam. however, this time you knew exactly what you were doing. well, at least your body did.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it knew exactly where it was leading you to. the precise actions that were to follow, and how you’d deal with the matter at hand. even with your head in a bunch, it was clear.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the tumbler that calmly rested in your grasp skimmed the edge of your skirt as you walked, head hung low with trembling murmurs slipping past your lips. you couldn’t believe their audacity. they weren’t even your friends yet thought some mediocre prank would slide by so smoothly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"h-heh. it was just a small amount, prez-" before Haruta even had time to give you some lousy excuse, the end of your tumbler was pummeling it’s way into his jaw; face smashing into the desk below him. the deeper you drove it into his flesh, the more crackling that followed behind. those same noises you craved to hear from his body. you wanted every last inch of him cracking under your touch.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"o-oh, shit!" Mahito was able to blurt out as the back of your opposite fist hammered straight into his nose, his chair rocking backwards before he went soaring to the ground, fumbling into the lockers that remained against the back wall.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had no time for negotiations. you needed for them to feel how it felt to have spent so much time and effort into studying, just for a bunch of nobodies to throw it all away because they have nothing better to do with their pathetic lives. their lives may not depend on it, and they may have no future. but you sure as hell did.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀stalking towards the blue-haired freak, you watched as his body recoiled along the polished floor, rugged coughs and exaggerated groans dripping from the tip of his tongue. your own heaves were entwined into his noises, teeth senselessly hitting against one another every passing moment. he could barely kneel down and regain himself when you curled your wrist at him suddenly, the side of your tumbler snapping his head as it slammed into his cheek. yet, he still had no time to react as his head fell straight into the open grasp of your free hand, grabbing the roots of his hair with a life-threatening grip.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reeling your arm back and officially dropping your bottle to the ground, your hand held onto the top of the lockers, thumb curling the edge to get a solid hold. you sent the man’s face right into the metal containers, repeatedly reeling him away and slamming him right back in.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀over, and over again. one after another, his face continued to scrape the material, sense of awareness getting lost in the overbearing ringing noise that clogged his eardrums. after the fifth hit, he could no longer keep track of how many times you slammed his face into the locker door.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the blood that now drenched his uniform would surely be the least of his problems with how many gashes and broken bones littered his facial structure. trickles of the crimson liquid trailed down his flesh, some seeping into the depths of his other open wounds while others dropped onto the roughened fabric of his uniform pants.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you would’ve done more. you wanted to do more. but fate had other plans when a pair of large arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground you once stood proudly on. flailing in the air, you were able to shake them off for merely a second, swiping your foot along the floor before it made contact with Mahito’s face, getting that last hit in just as you were tossed over someone’s shoulders and lifted highly off the ground.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀being face to face with their backside, you hadn’t a clue who it was or where you were going, just that you wanted to kick their ass just as much for interrupting your much needed plans. your arms were stuck to your sides with theirs curled over your lower back, rendering you unable to move whatsoever. you could barely move your legs with how much blood flow traveled to your head, let alone the drugs that were already seeping into every inch of your being.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀once they’d made it into the nurses office who was seemingly on her hour lunch break, the door slammed behind the two of you whilst they alas set you down. though, their large rough hands never left your figure as you continued to struggle out of their grasp.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"k-kill him .. i’m gonna .. i’m .. f-fucking — i’m .. kill .. kill-"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"L/N Y/N." harsh and abrupt, the man that stood before you pulled you from your senselessness. Sukuna shaking you a bit to get you off whatever mindless train you were riding. if he was being honest, you definitely startled him. it may have been just a slither, but it was surely turning some gears in his head.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"tch, jesus christ you crazy brat, what the hell?!" he exasperated, finally letting you go.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your eyes wandered the room, encapsulating the area that surrounded you all the while you tried to configure yourself. gashes and blood splatters likewise tattered your hands, your mind far too lost in the adrenaline to realize you also fucked yourself up in the midst of beating them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"i just- i- i- they- i ju-" "open." he demanded in a monotone voice, calloused hand already grasping the back of your neck as he brought a water bottle to your mouth. before you could even protest, he was already pressing the edge of it into your lips with the liquids traveling down your throat against your will. not that it wasn’t for the greater good, just that it caught you off guard by a long shot.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he watched tediously as a vague yelp muffled beneath your lips, trembling hands pathetically attempting to push him away before you had any idea of what he was doing. though, you stopped the minute it processed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"y’re fuckin’ psychotic, y’know that?" he scoffed, draining out the water into your mouth before he let you go. all you could do was obediently swallow, coughs scratching at your once dry throat with your body tumbled over and a hand resting along the wall beside you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"ow, fuck!" you hissed in irritation, covering the wounds on your hands as the high you once rode on finally settled down, causing all injuries to hit you like a damn truck. you couldn’t even feel how deep the gashes were prior, but as the tingling sensations set in, that’s all you felt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀turning to you, Sukuna sighed at your idiocy despite being the top student in their school. he reached for your forearm, disregarding all cries and pleas you threw at him before sitting you atop the nurses bed. you didn’t want him touching your wounds, let alone fixing them with how much they hurt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"don’t start cryin’ alright? i don’t need to hear that shit," Sukuna groaned, bringing over a first aid kit from one of the tables. you attempted to protest his care, not wanting to feel alcohol being poured onto your fresh wounds, but he could care less. he didn’t need to see you struggling for the next few days just because you were too much of a pussy to clean them right away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, what he was not expecting and entirely unready for, was for your pleas to sound like moans. his entire body tensed the minute your gentle hand pressed against his large bicep, whimpers tumbling from your lips. all he did was rub his thumb over the open gashes so he could measure the gauze, and your minuscule sounds had his heart dropping to his stomach.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"S-Suku — fuck, wait," you protested, the mere graze of his thumb already sending needles to shoot all through your arm.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he tried his best to ignore it. to push away any and all vile thoughts that dared to resurface his mind now that he finally knew what you could possibly sound in bed. he didn’t want to think of such things at the moment. for crying out loud, he was staring at blood and bones.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀for the next few minutes as he tended to your wounds, all he could do was tune you out. he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t know the difference between whining and moaning, you’ve probably never even had to moan before.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your cheeks were scooped into his rough grasp before you knew it, his face barely centimeters from yours as his harsh and ragged breathing fanned your nose. the close proximity was eating him alive, your widened doe-eyes meeting his leering gaze that was fixated on nothing but you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"stop .. stop making those damn sounds," he demanded more like a plea, unable to bring himself to genuinely be mean to you, but also desperate for you to stop before it sent him into utter madness.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you obliged with a small nod, swallowing the lump in your throat while he returned back to covering your hand in medical wraps. this time, you just softly hummed to yourself, trying to maintain your noises that you guessed were too annoying for him that he wanted you to shut up. and the last thing you wanted to do was annoy the man who quite literally had your arm in a chokehold just so you wouldn’t pull away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀yet, on the last tug he gave your wrapped hand, a tender sound escaped your trembling lips that had Sukuna’s teeth grinding together. he could feel his core brewing a small fire, heat trailing it’s way up his throat by the second. he had a fucking boner.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fucking hell .." he muttered through clenched teeth, pushing your hand aside and locking himself in the bathroom across the room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had no time to apologize, or even stop him before the door slammed in your face, your words getting caught in your throat. the guilt slowly ate away at you whilst you stood opposite to the bathroom door, attempting to muster up some form of apology to Sukuna who was evidently pissed off at you for not listening to a simple fucking task.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Su — Sukuna, i’m really sorry for annoying you. i didn’t mean to. i just — i don’t have the best pain tolerance and,—" oh how you were so painfully, pathetically fucking oblivious.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were far off from annoying him. you turned him on for christ sake. his pants grew tight around the growing erection he had, trying so desperately to think of anything else but you just so it’d go away. even thinking about all the other girls who thought they were suitable to ever be his girlfriend, he just needed something that wasn’t your voice booming in his head.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀yet, the more you talked, the worse it got.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀there was no way that he’d be able to get rid of it with you being right outside that door. the same door you were trying to speak through to apologize for something you didn’t even do.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and, somehow, in some deranged and crazy fast way, you ended up in the bathroom with him, being pressed firmly against the door. you had absolutely no time to think whilst his arm snaked through the small opening he made and swiftly dragged you in, a tiny yelp hiccuping from your throat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the tension that settled was intoxicating. almost clear to the human eye. his head was lowered in the crevice of your neck with his hands sternly planted on the door along either side of your head. his coarse breaths danced along the flesh of your neck, goosebumps decorating your skin as you attempted to grasp what had happened. you had no idea what was going on, let alone what was pulsating between his legs. your cluelessness would indefinitely be the death of Sukuna, a crumpled sigh falling off his tongue.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Suku-"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"can i kiss you?" four simple words. four simple fucking words, they were the same ones you would’ve never guessed your literal rival would utter in your presence, let alone to you. was he out of his mind? what he going through a mental episode? maybe he also took a sip from your tumbler and was riding some sort of high as well. there’s no possible way he was serious.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and yet, you still said yes. somehow, your brain that only ever saw him as the guy you wanted to beat. the guy who you would do anything just to have the hierarchy and be able to say you beat him in something. anything. you still found yourself crumbling beneath him much like you always did. falling victim to him once more, however this time it was your own fault. you obediently said yes without a second thought. without thinking how it’d look if the girl who only ever raved about beating the infamous Sukuna Itadori, succumbed to his berating charm and was another one of his girls of the week.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were utterly disgusted with yourself. but oh how sweet he tasted. his plump lips were immediately attached to your own with his large hands savagely coating your biceps, your hands rendering against his solid chest that rose with each passionate movement he made along your mouth.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were tall for a woman, standing perfectly at 5’7. though, compared to Sukuna’s 6’7, you were merely a mouse to a lion. his ginormous figure towered over you in every aspect, broad chest cornering you against the door with his head trapping you beneath him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he tasted like sweet cinnamon bark chipping onto lavender flowers, each petal melting against your tastebuds every time his tongue skimmed the tissue of yours. it was eradicating. every sense you thought you once had was entirely overwhelmed by him and his aroma, suffocating the oxygen you desperately craved for in between sloppy kisses.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀how could you let your first kiss be stripped from you by the man you swore you hated. the man that took every chance he got at provoking and taunting you with his intelligence. who got off to seeing your anger rise each time you glanced at his scored test papers. unbeknownst to the fact he only ever did such things so you’d look at him, let alone acknowledge his presence.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀despite wanting to push him off you and yell at him for thinking he could toy with you like some whore on the street, all you could really do was pathetically melt under his deathly grip. your lips subconsciously synced with his all the while you miserably pawed at his chest, slender digits attempting to undo the buttons that barricaded his immense chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"impatient, r’ya, princess?" you mewled at how easily the nickname slipped from his tongue, as if he weren’t just calling you a brat for god knows how long.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his words murmured against your lips, deep-husked voice littering your once smooth skin in nothing but even more goosebumps. the assertion gave you room to breathe alas, whimpered heaves exasperating from your quivering-swollen lips. he watched in utter delight at how heated he could feel you were, how your chest rose just as much as his did with your glossy eyes barely being able to make contact with his hunger-filled ones.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were twenty-one for crying out loud, and this is how you reacted to your first kiss? oh, was he ecstatic to see just how much you were going to crumble on his dick.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuckk .." he groaned out heavily at the sight that displayed before him, aggressive hands reaching for your buttoned-uniform shirt and ripping it apart, practically tearing the seams that sealed your body away from his demeaning gaze. the action broke you from your train of thought, eyes shooting up at his with your hands failing to cover the sweet treats you hid from everyone with that embarrassingly tight uniform top.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"tch, don’t hide from me, brat." he scoffed out, grabbing your gentle wrists and using one hand to pin them above your head, back straightening from the unexpected position he forced upon you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you didn’t have the guts to face him, not when you were completely vulnerable in front of him. your breasts that fought at the seams of your pink laced bra was the first thing that his eyes wandered to, seeing exactly how large they were and how small that damn coverage was. how could you possibly be so stupid to buy a size smaller than what you were?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀snapping your head to the side, you closed your eyes with trembling breaths dripping from your sore lips. anyone could see just how much lust fueled Sukuna’s crimson gaze as he admired you. saliva pooled his sealed mouth, tongue dragging across the skim of his lips with his teeth chewing the inside of his gums. he just wanted to ravage every inch of your body, tainting your beautiful skin in his bite marks so everyone and their fucking mother that attended this godforsaken campus would know who exactly took you first. who adulterated your gorgeous figure and molded that soaking cunt to shape his dick, and his alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"can .. can i touch you?" a small head nod followed swiftly after, not a single thought behind your actions, just pure, raw ardor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his movements were tender and sweet, at first. but once his large palm grasped the entirety of one of your breasts, he kneaded it with nothing but genuine hunger. his lips attacked yours once more, synchronizing his actions as you puttered soft moans into his mouth, the man swallowing them each time his tongue explored your walls.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the way his thick digits seeped into the flesh of your breast was unlike anything you’ve ever been able to fondle on yourself. he was skilled, obviously; his hand gripping you with the perfect amount of aggression that had you squirming under his touch. it only got worse when his fingertips trapped your nipple between his pads, rolling the two over one another to create the perfect amount of friction that he needed from you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"p—please .. oh-shit, please .. just fuck me, Suku—" the way your beautifully doe-glossed eyes peered up at him had the man ready to risk everything. ready to bend you over that damn sink and fuck the daylights out of you, so the only sensible, coherent thing you’d be able to utter was “fuck me, Sukuna”.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"be a good girl and be patient, i wanna explore every crevice of this fucking body of yours," he hushed you up with ease, showering you in kitten kisses that trailed all the way down your neck, his lips latching onto your skin once he made contact with your throat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with your bra now tossed onto the floor, chest entirely exposed for Sukuna’s deranged eyes, his calloused hand traveled down your body. over the ridges of your waist line and through the folds of your skirt. the lower he went, the higher your breath hitched in the depths of your throat, shaky heaves fanning his ear. he gently shushed you, his fingers now dancing along the fiery skin of your thigh. you knew you were soaked down there. he knew you were soaked down there. just from how tediously your legs trembled the moment he touched them, it was as clear as day. you weren’t hiding it, especially when you tried clamping your thighs closed the moment his nails even grazed your flesh.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"don’t hide, princess. s’okay, i promise to be gentle," he cooed in your ear, hissing at his finger looping around the drenched fabric of your underwear. the textured surface drove him crazy, how you were already sopping with him merely just touching you. it was pathetic, but god how he loved it so much.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he loved how it was him that caused such a reaction from you. how just the thought of him, and his touch against your perfect skin had you already creaming your underwear. it’s exactly what he wanted. for you to only give such a reaction created by him and no one else. just thinking about some other loser being in his place enraged him to the fullest. he couldn’t imagine anyone else taking your firsts, let alone stuffing your tight hole with their dick that probably wasn’t even close to being the same size as his.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the moment his fingers slipped between your folds, you were an entire mess all over again. whimpering moans and squeamish behaviors were the only reaction you could give, Sukuna peering down at you and enjoying every second of it. he teased and taunted your clit with each glide he passed through your slit, his nose grazing your own as tears now coaxed your entire face. the sight had his back muscles tensing, dick throbbing in his pants as he toyed with you more. if this is how you reacted to simply being touched, oh he really couldn’t wait.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself against you, knowing that you’ve never had sex, let alone been played with so he couldn’t do anything without hurting you in the process. and, that’s the exact opposite of what his intentions were. he wanted you creaming on his dick, not screaming.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀sputtered cries and grasps at nothing but air were sent Sukuna’s way the second he slipped his fingers in your clenched cunt. fuck, just his two digits alone, you were squeezing the life out of them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"shh shh, jus’ relax. y’re too tense, gonna hurt yourself clenching so hard" he soothed, littering your neck in even more tender-lined pecks as his grip on your wrists above your head only tightened. all the while you listen so obediently, Sukuna continued to gradually push his fingers inside you. you tried your best to relax, as he said, not wanting it to hurt when all he was trying to do was please you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀yet, even when relaxed, you were still so fucking tight it turned his mind completely white.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"juss’ like that. good girl," he fanned against your ear, kissing beneath it right as he slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out. gasped moans traveled out of your mouth every time his digits scraped your walls so delicately, hips subconsciously bucking in the midst of him trying to get you used to having something shoved up there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were already a babbled disaster beneath him, legs trembling dearly as Sukuna contained every urge had had to quicken his pace. he knew you weren’t ready, but you just kept on. you continuously bucked your hips against his hand, as if you wanted him to go faster, to roughen the tender pace he had on you. he wanted to go gentle, something he wasn’t entirely fond of, though he knew you were inexperienced and didn’t want to scare or even hurt you from how he could get.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀but you had other plans in mind. because the best thing that the man was even able to coherently understand amidst all the blabbering nothings you muttered was a vague “h-harder”. he knew you were crazy, just from the events that led to this, it was obvious. but he was not expecting you to be this batshit insane.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Suku— fuckk .. please, please .. fuck me—"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"shit .. you fuckin’ psycho brat," grumbling beneath his breath, the man listened to your deranged nonsense, quickening his once delicate pace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with his lips latched onto your own, he muffled all and every moan you had to offer once his pace roughened. squelches and wet noises could be heard all throughout the bathroom as he abused your desperate cunt, legs growing numb as the sudden action. the only way you were able to even stand up still was from his hand that pressed your wrists onto the door. you were rendered utterly silent, eyes rolling so far back you caught a glimpse of the pearly gates.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the back of your head slumped against the door, much like your melted figure that seeped into Sukuna’s grasp. his fingers grew used to the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating them the more he pumped your cunt, your first orgasm coating the entirety of his hand already. it was small so it didn’t hit you as hard, but the fact that he continued to thrust his fingers through your climax is what sent you into madness. you were slowly losing yourself the more he led you into your second orgasm. something you’ve never done before.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀because yeah, any normal girl would touch herself and make herself cum, but it was rare that they continued after the first orgasm. and, you happened to be one of the few who could never lead yourself to a second, always far too sensitive after the first.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cries squealed through your once sealed lips, his persistence to make you cum as much as possible causing you to break your silence. however, even with your poetic noises clogging his senses, his pace never once faltered. rather, it increased and was already leading you to your second orgasm, legs now visibly twitching and unable to hold your body up anymore.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀right before you could officially release onto his hand once more, he dropped everything and lowered himself to his knees, catching your juiced on his tongue that slipped easily through your folds. his lips hooked onto your clit the moment he did so, arms curling over your thighs so you sat along his shoulders. within a blink of an eye you were spilling all over his tongue with your pleading hands kneading at his pink hair, cries of mercy tumbling from your lips all the while. though, even then, your actions were rendered useless as he proceeded to use his mouth to edge a third orgasm from your beaten body.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"S—Suku .. please! I-I can’t, I can’t .. wait, wait-" you sobbed through heavy tears, the man far too lost in the goal of making you cum to even begin to listen to your wails.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he had nothing to say in response, using his mouth to get his point across that he didn’t care. that he was going to make you coat every aspect of him in your juices. you couldn’t help but think if this is how he was with all the other women he hooked up with daily. if he was so stubborn to make them cum as much as he was you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and, to proudly answer that, he’d honestly admit that no, he most definitely did not. he could barely tolerate their voices, let alone the taste of them. he simply fucked them, nothing more nothing less. that’s all they wanted him for anyways, so why would he waste his time doing more for people he could care less about?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀but you? oh, you were an entirely different case.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with you, he wanted all of it. he wanted to feel just how tight you were. just how sweet you tasted. to caress every inch of your ass, and body. to milk you dry, even. he wanted to devour you and leave you so high off his touch that even when alone in your dorm you’d probably touch yourself simply thinking about this interaction you had with him. he wanted to leave you craving for him as much as he craved for you. to have you feeling just how much of a mess you made him without even trying.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his tongue did wonders against your aching hole, lapping your juices against his tastebuds before soaking up every last droplet that tainted your inner thighs. taking advantage of his position, the man made sure to leave his teeth marks engraved into your skin, his palms firmly pressing against your lower abdomen to stop you from squirming so much. he did love how his actions earned such a reaction, but he didn’t want you hurting yourself from too much carelessness. at least not anymore than you already have.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀sobs and disheveled breaths hiccuped from your throat, hazed eyes slowly losing yourself to all the intensity that was thrown at you in less than ten minutes. you didn’t know how much longer you could go, but you definitely didn’t want him stopping anytime soon. it all felt so fucking good, it left your mind unable to do anything but cloud with nothingness.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the tingling commotion that left your legs completely numb had traveled it’s way up to your arms, fingers barely able to rake through his curls without twitching every few seconds. your words had become entirely slurred, vaguely incoherent with each word you puttered through your heavy lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sukuna was enthralled by every passing second he spent between your legs, marking his territory almost with how he repeatedly stabbed your flesh with his sharp teeth. you had no recollection or feeling in your legs to be able to stop him, allowing the man to claim you as his own as if he wasn’t just blabbering on about how annoying you were the day prior. the duality would not only just kill a victorian child, but also slaughter an entire bloodline.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"shit, y’taste so fuckin’ good," he groaned into your core, the deep rumbles that bore from his chest vibrating against your bundle of nerves and earning yet another sweet sweet moan from you. the kind he longed for. yearned, even.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he slurped up your slick liquids as if he’d been deprived of food for months, maybe even years. which, to some extent, he has. he’s been lusting over you since your freshman year. not a day had gone by where he wasn’t thinking about you, every inch of your body, and your beauty.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in such little time, you had become his primary thought bubble. he hadn’t a clue how it happened, nor why. but, now that he alas was shoved between your legs and able to taste just how savory you were, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sukuna egged on your third orgasm, not letting a single drop leave his mouth as he sucked and tethered at your clit. it surely was a struggle to contain your trembling legs, the man resorting to standing back up and placing both of his coarse hands along your ass. the sudden action caught you off guard completely, body almost slipping to the floor if he didn’t hoist your aching legs around his torso. though, his movement forced an abrupt sob to drip out of you, his rock hard erection pressing firmly along your cunt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"o-oh, fuckk .." was blurted from his own mouth at the endurance, not realizing his own actions until your juices were coating the fabric directly over his dick. his hands remain gripping the soft flush of your ass, fingers delving in the longer he held you there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you were sure to cream on the spot from how much force was pushed onto you, your back practically molding into the wooden door behind you. Sukuna couldn’t think properly, not in this state at least. all his mind could focus on was how he felt your heartbeat through your cunt that was resting diligently atop his pulsing erection. it was so prominent, so distinct, as if your heart was right there. he couldn’t move, not when his throbbing tip was already leaking with precum. he needed you and he needed you now.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sukuna—"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"please .. just—just one .. one second, fuck" he groaned against the flesh of your ear, your arms gripping the seams of his collar as he pushed his head in the crevice of your neck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he wanted to just take a breather before he did anything rash, but his body evidently had other things in mind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his hips grinded against yours without warning for either of you. hoarse mewls stammered from each of your mouths due to the friction of the rough material rubbing your sensitive areas just right. it felt wrong. you felt dirty. like you weren’t supposed to be doing such vile things along the fabric of your school attire, but it just felt so fucking good, you couldn’t possibly stop now.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and you didn’t.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sukuna continued to curl his hips at yours, loving how his trousers tightened around his dick just enough for it to feel like he was inside of you. and you, you embraced it just as much. you wanted him inside you so bad. even if he was probably far to big to be your first. you didn’t give a fuck. you wanted him and if he was allowed to taste you and edge you to three fucking orgasms, then he would have no choice but to fuck you by the end of this.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his nails created indents in your ass from how harsh he gripped your body, his palms practically the size of each cheek he caressed dearly. though, you didn’t care, he’d already tainted the rest of your body so your ass was no difference. not like anyone would see it anyways, no one but him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀despite not having a single ounce of strength left in you, you were able to use a slither of it to pull his face to yours, trapping his lips and syncing your sloppy kisses to his thrusts. once Sukuna caught onto your naughty actions, he quickened his pace, knowing that if he went faster than he’d be able to hear your beautiful noises once again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and, that’s exactly what happened. you were halted mid-kiss by an unexpected whimper that ricocheted your throat. it was filled with nothing more than genuine cries, head tossing back against the door whilst your lustrous eyes lazily gazed up at the ceiling above. the once harsh grip you had along his collar had faltered almost immediately. it was humorous to Sukuna how easily you succumbed to his touch against every part of your body. he fucking loved it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your legs had alas uncrossed from around his waist, the only thing holding you now being his black painted nails that molded your ass to his hand sizes. with each curl against your freshly exposed cunt, Sukuna hissed in delight all the while you choked up broken moans. the synchronization was soothing, chills creeping up his spine from how brisk you felt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀before he could get carried away, the man allowed you to release yet another orgasm on him, massaging your thighs through your high. he could tell how worn out you were, it was written all over your damn face. you were a virgin and already on your fourth orgasm during your first sexual interaction.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"p—please .. Suku- please .. just fuck me already," heaved through chopped, aching breaths, you raked your nails down his severely toned abs that could probably crush a watermelon.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀that was his cue. the simple words that he was almost begging you to utter once more just so he’d be able to finally follow through with your repeated pleas.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀hoisting your legs around his waist once more, he led you out of the bathroom finally, after thirty damn minutes. one hand remained in the dip of your lower back whilst his other was scooped beneath your ass, being slowly coating in your slick liquids that dripped from your exposed pussy. though, he surely didn’t mind. he transferred your quivering body back onto the nurses bed he once used to tend your injuries, continuing to knead your tensed thighs so they’d simmer down.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"ya sure ‘bout this, pretty? i don’t wanna hurt you," he reassured for the last time, pad of hjs thumb swiping your fleshed cheek that was hotter than the sun on a mid-summer day. all you did was gaze up at him through the thick of your lashes, doe eyes enticing his entire existence.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you didn’t care how he did it, you just wanted his dick stuffing you so good that you’d forget every test answer you ever embedded into your thick skull. as crazy as it sounded. you probably seemed so pathetic for thinking such a thing, but when a woman has gone twenty-one years without ever being touched so sensually, and she finally gets a taste of it crashed into her like a semi-truck, of course she’s going to sound deranged.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you didn’t even answer him, your hands immediately latching to his pants as you began unbuckling his belt. you fumbled with it a bit, Sukuna allowing a low, deviated chuckle to rumble along his chest whilst he moved your hands aside to do it himself. your eagerness was humorous, the man getting a kick out of it as he stripped his lower body to nothing but raw nudity. his pants pooled at the rim of his ankles, black boxers laying softly atop them. to say you were stun-ridden would indefinitely be a damn understatement as you tried to fully grasp his size.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀sure, you’ve seen some poorly executed porno’s with guys who had long dicks. some even had thicker ones that weren’t as long, but their girth and how they stretched the girl out made up for it inevitably.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, never once have you seen one that was not only long, but also broad. his tip alone rendered you into utter silence, the white ropes of precum decorating his reddened head. though, what had chills dancing along your spine was the sight of how he extended to his belly button, and his base only got thicker the lower down your eyes traveled. arrogant and humored, the man taunted you with a snarky expression;

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"careful now, y’might catch flies, princess," his thumb gliding across the skim of your bottom lip after he layered it in his seed. he gently slipped it through your agaped mouth, softly closing your lips around his knuckle with his opposite hand slowly pushing you against the flat of the bed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you couldn’t even process the fact that he made you taste his cum from how awe-struck his size left you. let alone him spreading your legs open and watching as your lower abdomen trembled in between each shaky breathe. what did break you from your daze was when a slap was sent to your wide-open cunt that was on full display for him, your back arching off the bed with tethered cries mewling out all the while.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you couldn’t even close you legs to stop him, his stern grip pinning one of them to the bed with his waist stopping your other from moving. all you could do was try and reach your hands to cover yourself, but he took that as an initiative to grip your wrists with both of his overly large hands. gazing down at your sweets, he aligned his base with your clit, his dick laying atop your stomach so he could measure just how deep he’d be hitting you. now you were completely rendered defenseless, his grasp on your wrists never once faltering.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀once he was satisfied with the results, he tossed one of your wrists into his opposite hand while adjusting his tip between your deathly sopping folds. oh how he wanted to bottom out in you at this very instant, the urge eating away every second that painfully passed by. he couldn’t. not yet, at least. you weren’t ready and he didn’t want to ruin anything after spending all that time getting you ready.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀after grabbing your wrist again, he, very slowly and tediously gently, started sinking himself through your walls. each time you made any sort of high pitched noise he stopped, trailing circles with his thumbs against your abdomen; feeling just how much your body quivered. your mind drew blanks, vision going in and out from how much he stretched you out with his tip alone. it was euphoric, ecstatic even. you’ve never (willingly) taken drugs, but this is how you imagined the feeling people described when they were riding cloud nine.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your unhinged jaw hung open desperately, toes curling with each vein he gradually dragged so rigidly along your delicious gummy walls. you had no ounce of energy to cry out. whimper, let alone moan. all you could do was let him continue to shape your cunt, to mold you into the perfect cocksleeve for him and him alone. it was something you were never expecting, but surely weren’t protesting now that he wore your body out so deliberately.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he was trying his best to be as cautious as he could, fighting every senseless urge that pulled at his strings the deeper he sunk into you. it was so fucking tiring, especially when your desperate cunt kept sucking him in deeper each passing moment.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀yet, when it was all said and done, and his tip was practically kissing your womb, his shoulders alas settled with a groaned sigh following close behind. now that he finally got what he wanted, what he’d been impatiently waiting for since your first year, he hadn’t a clue what to do. he was so used to the women taking over and fucking themselves on him, already used to his size and using it how they saw fit. he never in his wildest dreams would’ve thought he’d finally be able to get at you, let alone be so painfully deep inside you that it rendered him, the great Sukuna Itadori, silent.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀if there were a day for miracles, it’d surely be today.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"holy- .. shit. fuckin’ hell, Y/N .." how he uttered your name in that oh so needy tone drove you crazy, clenching around him and causing Sukuna to immediately tighten his grasp on your wrists.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀all he raved about was how you sounded, but jesus fucking christ did he sound so goddamn sexy saying yours in that teasingly needy voice that he tried so hard to make scornful. his girth pulsed in the depths of your cunt, his rugged and torn heaves being forced through his nostrils whilst he attempted to collect his jumbled thoughts.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he led your wrists back up to your head, his earth shattering grip still cutting all blood circulation from them. sturdily planting the back of your hands to the mattress below, along either side of your head, Sukuna brought his own to the slithered opening of your neck, fanning his fragile breaths against your goosebump-covered neck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀slow and steady, agonizingly cautious, the man began rocking his hips into your own. each stroke, every whimpered moan, all of it had Sukuna’s mind seeing stars. the moon. possibly the entire fucking galaxy with how completely undone he became. his head continued to knead into your shoulder, puttered lips whispered sweet nothings against your tattered skin that he decorated so rigidly. it hurt, your entire body could feel that fact all too well. you knew it’d hurt, just weren’t expecting how much though. with how your friends described their first times, you were expecting a paper cut, not to be ran over three times. your core was burning implacably, inner thighs so ungodly sore that you weren’t sure how you’d have the energy to walk once he was done with you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, with each tender word he cooed in your ear, you slowly melted beneath his touch, seeping into the mattress and feeling every last vein that scraped your walls so vigorously. you could barely open your eyes for that matter, gaze entirely fixated on the ceiling lights that hung above, thick lashes coating your droused vision.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the pain that once surged your every thought had simmered into nothing but euphoric rapture, tears glossing your [E/C] eyes so tenderly. your hands were grasping at straws, unable to get a hold on anything, let alone move with how Sukuna buried them into the surface.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀slow sex was definitely not on Sukuna’s bucket list for the year, let alone sex with you. and he was unsure how to feel about it. because yes, it had the pleasure dispersing to every inch of his sole being, but it also fueled his desire to ultimately ram your cunt broken. the endurance only caused his back muscles to tear at the seams of his uniform, solid chest pressing into your own as he suppressed any vulgar thoughts.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it were as if the gods above had heard his yearning, his unspoken pleas that lingered his mind. because the next coherent word he could make out from your lips was a small “faster .. please-" that sputtered out.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was at lightning speed that he swiftly hovered himself above, capturing the perfect display of your sprawled upper body beneath him. his hands pawed at your biceps and curled around them with a hefty grip. he wanted to steady himself before he hurt you in any possible way, already a bit uneased by his careless decision of going in raw.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had no time to react, no time to possibly even grasp the fact that he had released your wrists from his death grip. not before he was plunging his swollen tip at the entrance of your womb, repeatedly with harsh grunts weaved into each movement. that’s when you saw stars. that was when you could no longer speak properly, let alone even think about anything other than listening to the sounds of your own pussy squelching and squeaking every time he bottomed out and his balls slapped against your ass. your mouth moved in an attempt to speak, but no words, let alone noises, were to be heard. you were like a broken wind up toy; moving without sound.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuck .. y’re so goddamn tight, pretty," Sukuna groaned out desperately, a scoff finding its way into his words that overlapped the boisterous noises your cunt shouted out.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your hazed eyes were now drenched in tears, hiccups slipping past your lips after each thrust he shoved down your walls. your skirt rode up your ass, exposing it to the sticky material you laid upon. both of your bodies were covered in sweat from head to toe, though the adrenaline had you thinking you were as dry as a baby. it was a crazed mixture of feelings, yet they all had you more deluded than a fangirl.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀no matter how much you relaxed, how many times you soothed your walls, you still clenched him so perfectly he swore he was going to cum already. which, he definitely was. his entire focus was fixated on trying not to decorate your walls. not yet, at least. he wanted to cum with you on your fifth high, his quick pace easily leading you to it thoroughly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the silence that once washed over your entire body had been forcefully broken when he decided curled his hips at just that right angle that hit a spot so deep, so so fucking sweet, it had you crying out for him to continue. your nails grazed at the skin of his wrists, moans proclaiming his aggressive moves. mewled cries exerting your quavering lips, encouraging his robust actions that only increased with every whimper you threw at him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀each time Sukuna slid himself through your aching cervix, he watched his bulge poke through your abdomen, pleased with the fact that no one else could do such things to you but him. that even if such an interaction with him were to awaken a side of you, and you ended up with another guy, he’d never be able to leave his dick print on you like Sukuna did. he was comfortable in his size, much of an arrogant high school cheerleader.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the man obliged by every last plea you threw at him, subconsciously leading both of you to your destined climaxes. he wanted to hit his high with you, and if he continued his actions thoroughly, he’d get what he craved so desperately for.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"S—Suku, fuckk— i-i’m gonna come .. please!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you had no idea how much of an impact you had on the disheveled man. he never planned on being such a known fuckboy on campus, but when you were too painfully fucking clueless to his advances when school first started, he accepted his fate and used his body to drown himself in the sorrows. he didn’t know how your relationship would be after today, but what he did know was that it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he was balls deep in your throbbing pussy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"s-shit .. ya takin’ me so well, princess," he yearned, gruffs tumbling out after his breathless assertion.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"this is mine, ya understand? .. don’ wanna see no other guy near you. not even my. shitty. little. brother," with each exasperated word he huffed out, he made sure to hit you so hard, so fucking deep, that you understood every damn syllable of his demand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Y-Yes, yes! please, .. oh— fuck! yes, o-ok. ok!" sobs and down right hysteria blurted from your crumbling lips, cunt aching pathetically as he abused ever last inch of it. Sukuna made sure he molded you like the perfect little sculpture you were, shaping you to suit him with raw ease. emphasis on the raw.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with one last full length thrust, you both had equally hit the highs you practically clawed each other for. the climax that had your entire body twitching from head to toe whilst your eyes struggled to stay open. his thick, crystalline seed painted your walls so white it’d seem like a brand new room. it was so much, so fucking much, that he had pent up for so long he couldn’t possibly stop himself even if he wanted to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his hands that had now engraved his grip into the flesh of your biceps traveled down to your thighs, kneading them through your high so you weren’t so timid. it definitely did help, prattled breaths dripping from your tongue through the entirety of it. his were likewise weaved into yours, his chest riding every so often all the while he watched how your mixed juices spilled from your pussy, trickling in a pool along the edge of the mattress.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with a lazy huff and pulling himself from inside you, the man slowly reached down to you and scooped your back into his grasp; uttering a vague "c’mon, pretty, lets get you cleaned up,"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “wanna fill you up s’fuckin’ much, pretty,”

© 𝐘𝓤𝐌𝓘𝐒𝐓𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑⠀𝜗ϱ⠀mature discretion advised. all rights reserved. do not plagiarize or steal works.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 27: Gloryhole - Nick Fowler

Summary: You worked in a club that catered to the wealthy and powerful, with the job to satisfy them all in whatever way they wished. But what happens when the person needing satisfaction happens to be your boss, Nick Fowler?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, reader!stripper/prostitute, multiple customers, oral (m!receiving), degradation, possessive, deepthroat, fingering, glory hole, rough sex, praise kink, sir kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

Everyone gathered in the centre of the club, lounging on the lavish couches or on the edge of the stage that had multiple poles and dancing areas. The place was squeaky clean and, in the brightness, looked pretty respectable for a nightclub, showing the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent by the owner on maintaining the building. However, once the lights began to dim and the music turned up to a deafening level, the club became a haven for those with power and money to do whatever seedy activities they wished.

It paid well, especially the tips from specific customers, so you were more than happy to get dolled up every night and pleasure men and women in the back rooms, dance, or perform if it was what they wished.

Picking at your intricately designed nails, you chatted casually with the other girls and one of the security, waiting for the boss to come and inform everyone where they were positioned for the day. To ensure that your skills are kept up to top quality, the girls are usually moved around, and today, you were hoping to avoid being on the stage, needing a break from spinning and dancing as your muscles were starting to feel the strain of it.

The whispers hushed to silence as Mr Fowler strutted in, his signature smirk and crisp suit hugging his body to perfection. You couldn’t help but straighten your posture, the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach that always seemed to come whenever he was in the room. He was a powerful man and your boss, making your need to impress him more severe.

“Evening, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a good night's sleep because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. We have some special guests tonight who have heard the rumours on my…samplings”, he gestured to the girls around the room that he’d made sure all had different ethnicities, shapes, heights, eye colours, everything you could possibly think of to appease to whoever would come and spend their money in his club. With his hands in his pockets, Mr Fowler began leisurely walking around the room, addressing each girl and where he wanted them to be.

Your breaths paused as he stopped before you, his startling bright eyes exploring your body, which was covered in a dressing gown as you’d decided to change after finding out where you would be working tonight. Refraining from letting your eyes roll as his exquisite aftershave floated over your senses, you waited for your instructions.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be in the hole. I want you to be at your very best today. I’ll be sending my special guests to you throughout the night as they like to keep things anonymous”. 

He only continued with his instructions to the other girls once you’d responded with a nod and “Yes, sir”, but his eyes lingered on your bottom lip that you’d tugged between your teeth.

It had been a while since you’d been to the glory hole, but you were somewhat thankful for this as it wasn’t as strenuous as dancing on stage for hours. You also took it as a compliment in a sick sort of way that he had trusted you to be in his most famous of locations, especially with there being some important guests.

As everyone was dismissed, you walked to your locker and prepared for the night. There wasn’t much point wearing clothes when you’d be switching between using your mouth, pussy, hands and ass if it was what the customer wished for. So, you kept the dressing gown on and collected a pillow, bottle of water, towel, and some lube.

The glory hole was in a unique set of cubicle toilets; however, even this was luxurious and not anything like the dark and dingy glory holes you were used to seeing on porn websites. Instead, it was bright and welcoming, even if it was designed to be a toilet other than the hole in the cubicle at the end. Waving to the security guy who was stationed outside of the door, you entered and breathed in the regal scents from the air fresheners as you walked to your stall. There was a small shelf above the toilet that you placed all your items on except for the pillow, which you placed on the floor, knowing you’d spend a lot of time tonight using your both and wasn’t prepared to destroy your knees by being on them for hours on the marble flooring.

As the music increased, you sat on the toilet lid and scrolled through your phone, waiting patiently for the first customer. 20 minutes pass, and the door opens, the music intensifying for a moment and then dimming as the door clicks closed. Quietly, you switched your phone off and slid onto your knees, getting comfortable on the pillow as you heard the customer step into the toilet cubicle next to yours and could see a flash of expensive-looking pinstripe suit through the circular hole in the wall.

Seconds pass, and then a had cock is slipping through the hole. Your mouth descends onto it instantly, licking a long strip up the underside. It was a couple of inches long, so you had no issue taking the length entirely, which seemed to please whoever was on the receiving end of the oral sex if the groans were anything to go by.

He didn’t last very long as you gathered the cum into your mouth and quietly spat it into the tissue. You’d learnt from past mistakes that swallowing too much cum on a night like this only made it settle heavy in your stomach and left you feeling queasy by the end of the night. It wasn’t like they could see anyway, as the customers were usually zipping themselves up and exiting.

The next few were in similar situations. They were sticking their dick through the hole, and you were sucking or jerking them off to completion. Every so often, there would be someone who wanted to dirty talk, calling you their slut, whore or other unimaginative derogatory names that increased the firmness of their length. It was all white noise to you. You were here to do one job, which, to be truthful, you did very well, so if they wanted to be vulgar, they could because, at the end of the day, you were still getting a fat paycheck.

There were occasions when the customers would push a wad of rolled-up dollars through the hole as they zipped themselves up again, which you happily stacked on the shelf. These were your favourite customers, and sometimes, when you were lucky, you’d have a couple of fingers stick through the hole, wishing to pleasure you and hear your moans. Most of the time, you faked it as it was always an awkward angle, or they just thought ramming their fingers in and out without any clitoral play would ever be enough. It wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that you were faking an orgasm as you scrolled through TikTok.

The night passed by steadily, and so far, you’d received very positive responses from the customers, and even though your jaw was aching and hands tingling from the amount of squeezing you’d been doing, it was definitely one of your better nights. It had also become incredibly warm in the windowless room, so your dressing gown had been hung on the back of the door so that you were completely naked.

The door opens and closes as you rush to shut the water bottle in your hand, swallowing the cool liquid that soothed the dryness in your mouth. Slow, calculated steps echo and bounce off the walls as you wait on your knees for the next customer, not thinking anything of the powerful stride walking towards you. The cubicle's door opens and shuts with the lock finding its home as you try to peep through the hole to have a glimpse as to who is next.

A flash of a black suit and then a thick, long cock is passing through the hole. Your eyes widen for a second, staring at the dick in front of you. It was the best-looking cock that had been in here tonight. The dark pubes were perfectly trimmed. Even though it had an incredible length, it still was rock hard and throbbing in the air, the veins bulging along the shaft and the bulbous tip a beautiful deep maroon that you complimented would look good as a lipstick shade.

Whoever it was, had a magnificent member that for once had your abdomen warming with arousal, and you hoped that whoever it was would ask to fuck your pussy, just to feel your walls stretch around it.

You licked the palm of your hand, deciding to get a feel of him first. Your fingers only just reached each other as you wrapped around his shaft, feeling the velvety soft skin and the firmness of the thumping blood beneath the surface. He was hot in your hand, and as you squeezed him tightly and moved your fist towards his tip, a clear drip of precum bubbled into the hole.

Your tongue darted out, catching the liquid and swallowing. The moan you produced was genuine because, for once, whoever it was, the skin tasted clean and not like he’d been sitting in his ball juice for hours on end. Even the precum had a satisfying salty taste to it, but you blamed those thoughts on the increasing flame between your legs.

Sitting up further on your knees, your tongue began to gently lap at the underside of his cock, following the movements of your fist. As you reached the base, the overwhelming scent of aftershave brushed over your nose as you completely froze, eyes widening and breath stilling.

A deep chuckle that you recognised immediately floated from the other toilet. “Hmm, finally recognised me at last, have you, sweetheart?” Mr Fowler confirmed your suspicions. Your body didn’t know how to handle this news. One the one had it still in fear, throat drying and heart pounding beneath your ribs. However, it also burned even more desperately with the need to satisfy him and do something you had been hoping for for months.

Even though Nick Fowler was an incredibly handsome man, he had always kept to himself, never once indulging in the girls he employed, which helped to gain the trust of the employees. This was a double-edged sword for you, having always found him attractive beyond words, but knowing any advances that you made would be worthless and potentially see that you were fired.

So now that he was here, cock resting on your tongue and in your palm, you were conflicted with what to do.

“You see, I’ve been hearing some very, very good things about the goings on in here. So much so that these gentlemen tonight have booked in with us for a further four nights, which means my profit has increased a whole fucking lot. And that’s all down to the perfect princess in the end stall.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say. It wasn’t like you’d been going out of your way to pleasure the people coming and going from the glory hole; you’d just been doing your regular sucking and touching, so to hear him speaking so highly of your work had a deep shiver running down your spine and pooling between your legs.

“With all the high praise, I thought it would be a good idea to come and see what all the fuss was about. Test the goods, if you will. Do you think you can handle me, Princess?”

Your eyes fluttered close at the nickname, as simple as it was, the way his deep, sultry voice seemed to kiss the air, making everything seem like the most cheek-warming compliment; you were ready just about to do anything your boss asked of you.

“Yes, sir”, was your quick verbal response before your sexual acts continued. Squeezing your fingers around his cock again, your mouth moved at the same time to the very tip, wrapping your warm lips around him entirely and letting the natural weight of him lay against your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you tried to forget that it was your boss on the other side of the wall and that this was probably the most crucial blowjob that you’d ever given before.

Your mouth filled with salvia, helping to wet his length as you lapped over his size with delicate little licks as your hand moved up and down the base of his shaft. Mr Fowler sucked in a breath through his teeth as his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease, show me what you’ve got, Sweetheart”.

Your smile for a moment before taking more of his length into your mouth, pressing your flat tongue against the sensitive underside and hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Opening your eyes, you watched more of his cock disappear into your mouth as you forced yourself to relax your throat, a skill you had mastered since working for him.

Nearly the entire length of your boss’ cock slipped down your throat, causing a bulge with how your airflow was completely cut off, the lining of your eyes flooding with tears from the overwhelming sensation. There was still a portion of his member that hadn’t entered the warm cavernous home of your mouth, so your hand squeezed and tugged so he was utterly stimulated.

“Fuck! I knew that pretty little mouth of yours would be trouble”, Nick groaned, trying to push his hips against the wall to try and fuck your face. You tried not to choke on his length at the tiny compliment mixed into his words.

Pulling back slowly, you made sure to suck his cock thoroughly whilst licking every inch that you could. Now you knew he liked what you could do; you were desperate to see just how much you were able to make him moan.

You deepthroated him again, choking and holding your breath, eyes continuing to water and more saliva filling your mouth. Eventually, you were able to find the perfect rhythm of bobbing your head up and down his cock, listening to the gruff quiver of his voice as his palm slapped against the wall of the toilets as he became delirious due to the pleasure.

It was nearly unbearable how turned on you were. Your throbbing clit was begging to be touched so gently you spread your knees and slipped your unused hand to gently circle it, adding pressure whenever he made a noise like a reward for yourself.

The evidence of your arousal was soaking over the tips of your thighs, drenching the two fingers being used to stimulate yourself. Eventually, you needed more, especially as your chin was becoming coated in drool as the blowjob became more sloppy. Lowering your fingers, you couldn’t help and bust in a moan that caused your throat to vibrate around the cock within as those two wet fingers slipped into your hole and curled.

“Holy shit, do that again”, Mr Fowler begged behind the thin wall. You moaned again as your hips bucked to meet your finger's movements. “That feels so fucking good, I knew I’d never regret hiring you. Do you only offer your mouth?”

You pulled off the end of his mouth with an audible ‘pop’ and swallowed thickly the considerable amount of saliva in your mouth as you tried to find your words. “No, they can have any part of me they’d like”. As you explained, you pumped his cock with both hands, forgetting about your pleasure for a moment.

“Good girl,” his praise was like a sweet symphony to your ears. “Has anyone else used the other services tonight?”

“No, Sir. Only my mouth and hands; a couple have fingered me but nothing else”.

Nick growled as his fingers appeared over the top of the cubicle as he tried to hold onto something. As you wished for a moment that, there was a camera in his toilet so you could see him flush against the wall, holding on for dear life. “So you’re telling me that all those powerful people out there are spending all their money for another four days just because of a couple of sucks and tugs? You really are special, aren’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to share you in here and keep you all to myself”.

Biting your lip, you tried to stop yourself from grinning, just listening to him becoming possessive, which was a widespread occurrence during these intimate acts. Many of the people were so overcome with the pleasure that they’d decided that they would keep you all to themselves to use if and when they needed you. Usually, it earned an eye-roll, but right now, you were dripping wet and ready to hand in your notice if it meant you could just stay by his side and suck his cock every day.

“I’d be more than happy to let you feel my other talents, sir”, you suggested before thinking it through properly. Not that you’d regret this offer, as you were incredibly horny and wanted nothing more than to please him further.

The wall between you both creaked under the pressure of Nick’s hands gripping the top as his hips began rocking, causing his cock to push and pull through the hole. “Oh, princess, you have no idea how badly I want that right now”.

With great enthusiasm, you stood on shaky legs, ignoring the pins and needles that formed in the balls of your feet, having been on your knees for so long and turned around, facing away from the glory hole. Spreading your legs and reaching between them, you grasped his cock once more and began to position him between your legs, where you closed them firmly, trapping his length between your damp thighs.

You rocked your hips, causing his dick to press against your pussy folds, rubbing your clit and for him, he was trapped in the tight, wet hold of your legs as he fucked your thighs.

“So fucking wet and soft”, he muttered under his breath, and once more, you wish you could have been watching his face, wondering if his eyes were just as glazed as how yours were feeling at that moment.

You had him fucking your thighs for a few moments longer and then decided to change things up, not wanting to wait anymore as your feet widened the stance, and his cock nudged against your hole.

The moan you released was mouthwatering for Nick as he felt the sensitive tip of his cock become lost within your tight, gummy walls. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips moved backwards, slowly to give yourself a chance to adjust to his thick size until your cheeks were flush against the wall.

“You’re so big, sir”, you blurt out, body shaking with trepidation at the pressure of being stretched for him.

“I am, but you’re taking me so well, Princess”. Even his encouraging words had you mewling with quivers, wanting and needing more of him.

Leaning forward, you reached out to the other side of the wall, pushing off of it to help you ride his cock in the limited position that you had with the glory hole. Thankfully, Mr Fowler began to fuck the wall, so you were both thrusting into each other with increasing speed and strength. He seemed to fit you perfectly, stroking against all of those special nerves that built the tightening warmth in your core. Each time he pushed back inside of you was like a million exploding fireworks of pleasure to blossom throughout your body. You never wanted it to end.

As you tried to rise onto your tip toes to try and push back onto his harder, your pussy suddenly clamped down harder around him, like it was laying claim to him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go.

“Sir, oh my- I’m cumming, Sir, please don’t stop!”. You were thinking of nothing else but the cock pounding into your pussy, begging him with everything that you had for this orgasm to reach its peak.

“I can feel you, Sweetheart. So tight around my cock, you’re doing so well for me. Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll give you what you really want”.

Nick fucks the glory hole with even more enthusiasm as you are forced to have both hands against the opposite wall to push yourself even harder back against his cock. Your cunt was squeezing him so tightly he was nearly seeing stars as you finally came. Your knees wobbled as your walls spasmed in flutters through the orgasm, more fluid dripping down onto your thighs as you cried out for Mr Fowler.

He was shouting something as well, but you weren’t able to understand what it was he was saying as the faint, satisfied buzz filled your ears, and the edge of your orgasm began to calm. You were exhausted, but you didn’t stop fucking hard back against the cock until you were aware that there was thick, warm fluid seeping into your cunt as Nick’s thrusts stilled, his cum filling you completely.

It took all of your strength not to collapse to your knees as you both tried to recover from the fucking. As the softening cock slipped out, followed by a gush of cum was when you could finally fall back onto the pillow on the floor with a satisfied moan.

Being back in this position, you were able to watch through the hole as Nick began to tuck himself back into his suit, not even bothering to clean yours or his juices that gleamed over his length. Your cheeks warmed at this sight, knowing you’d remember it for the rest of your life.

Mr Fowler released a deep breath and reached into his back pockets, and once more, you wish you could see his face, but all you were able to see was his waistline and hands as they rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a hefty roll up of cash that he shoved through the hole and landed in your lap.

“This’ll cover any further tips you would have made for the remainder of the night. Which you can have off. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll drive you home, Princess”.

[nail-art-no-jutsu]

🍅

Here's why I really love Sasuke and Itachi's parents, and why it makes complete sense that he'd want justice for them. Pro all these characters.

There's a lot that can be said about how Mikoto and Fugaku raised Itachi, how the boys got compared to each other, and how more often than not parents get more practice with parenting the more children they have, and so the last child gets to know them at a different parenting skill level...

But.

It really says a lot that Sasuke was able to actually go ahead and ask his mother a very difficult question for a child. It's easy to imagine that it's not the first time he came to her with a tough question, and it shows that she was a safe person for him to talk to.

And I like what she replied, too. I love how calm she was, a lot of parents and caregivers would absolutely take it personally and punish the child for daring to ask such a thing. Not Mikoto. She's listening.

Then she tells Sasuke that it only seems that Fugaku is paying more attention to Itachi because he's older and one day he will inherit his father's position. And more importantly,

Mikoto explains that basically Fugaku is generally sullen and awkward but it doesn't have to mean anything, and when they talk in private, he does talk about Sasuke all the time.

And if mother says that father talks to her about him, it's enough for Sasuke, he doesn't need to hear his father's words with his own ears. He doesn't sit there wondering, well great but what if I had never asked, because that kind of world isn't possible for him. He lives in a world where it is safe to ask his mother such things.

Right after that, Fugaku arrives and they have tea together. Sasuke doesn't feel comfortable asking why exactly his father and Itachi fought, at least not right now, but he does ask about the Sharingan, and says he'll master it one day because he is his son, which makes Mikoto smile:

She's glad to see that Sasuke is already acting like a boy who knows that he's important to his father, who never doubted that. He's acting like this to see if what Mikoto said really is true, and she doesn't take this personally either. She knows that Fugaku will respond in a way that Sasuke will appreciate.

And then the best thing happens.

Sasuke is brave enough now to talk to his father the same way he talked to his mother just earlier. If he wasn't safe to ask stuff like this before, he is now. He responded well to Sasuke's first question, about the Sharingan, and now he's asking something a lot more personal. He doesn't wait for Fugaku to leave so he can ask Mikoto instead.

We're shown that Fugaku is the same as Mikoto in the sense that he doesn't reject Sasuke just for asking such a thing, or even for thinking it, like many parents are capable of doing, he takes his question seriously, he doesn't even always have to be awkward, he trusts his young son with something surprisingly vulnerable:

So in short:

Sasuke: mom, why doesn't dad pay attention to me? also Sasuke: dad, why doesn't my brother pay attention to me?

Basically, even though Sasuke did have some difficulties at home, we see that both his parents were in fact open to communication, and I'm getting the impression that they regret not being able to do better with Itachi. In any case, Sasuke can be confident after this that both his parents care about his feelings, and that he can ask them anything. That if more problems appear they can be solved through communication.

How many children have parents like that?

And who wouldn't want to turn the world upside down to avenge them?

P.S.

I also think that this is what enabled Sasuke's interest in the truth later on, to the point that he would resurrect the previous Hokage to hear it. He's always been a questioner, and it was never frowned upon or rejected, he was loved unconditionally underneath it all, even if it did take, well, a bit of questioning to learn that.

Yeah!! 🍅🥰🤗

I bet they would have been the best in-laws too lol

[igotanidea]

All figured out : Jason Todd x reader

Summary: When duties and stuff get in the way of being close so bad he forgets your b-day... Or does he?

***

As of late they barely had time for each other. It was constantly his patrols, his wounds and bleeding, her work and headaches and everything in-between.

You know what they say after all, right? About the mundane everyday stuff killing more relationships than actual fights and heartbreaks. The case when you get so accustomed to being with each other that there’s nothing more to discover and the connection becomes simply boring.

And he didn’t want it.

She neither.

But what was to do when there was always something or someone.

What was to do when they both found themselves drifting apart, too focused on the duties and obligations and that constant train of thoughts, plans and internal anxiety they tried to suppress so hard there was barely any strength for anything else.

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” She raised her head from the couch she dozed off while reading some notes for the upcoming work presentation. “Yeah? What’s wrong? How can I help?” Even in her half-hazy state with a post-it note stuck to her cheek, her first instinct was to sprung into action. And the fact that she missed his concerned face and affection beaming from his eyes did not go unnoticed.

“It’s your birthday today, baby…” Jason sighed, moving closer, crouching next to the couch to be somewhere close to her eye level and squeezing her hands.

“My birthday?” Her tone indicated that she barely recognized what day it was, let alone that the date was anything special “Really? I guess I forgot about that…”

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I’m so sorry-“

“For what?” she tore the note from her cheek, finally meeting his eyes “Hey. Jason, baby. For what?”

“I forgot them too.”

“Well clearly not, if you’re the one reminding me.”

“I don’t have a gift for you.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“It’s not enough.”

“It is enough for me.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Because us talking for more than five minutes might be the first time in weeks.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, me too.” She sighed “this is not just on you Jace. You’re only half of this relationship.”

“Only?” he teased, familiar sparks showing in his eyes

“Oh, here’s that mischief I know you for.” She chuckled leaning her forehead on his in a vulnerable gesture “What happened to us Jay?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t say.”

“And that’s why I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Wait, what? What about the patrol? The missions? The-“ the stream of words coming out of her mouth was cut abruptly as he placed a finger on her lips. “Hey-hmph!”

“Don’t think just because I’ve barely heard your voice lately I’m just going to let you bubble, princess.”

“But-“

“Now, put on you prettiest dress and do not worry your sweet little head about anything else”

“But-“

“If you keep talking I’ll have to silence you in some other way and then we won’t leave this apartment at all. And I’ve already made plans-.”

“In the past thirty seconds?!”

“Yes. Now do you want to ruin my plans for tonight?” he pouted in a child-like manner causing her to let out an involuntary laugh before heading to the bathroom to get ready for whatever scheme he came up with.

***

“A club? Seriously?”

The look of confusion on her face as they pulled at the dancing spot was quite hurtful to him.

“I didn’t even know you could dance.”

“Ouch! Y/n!”

“What?!” she scoffed, “It’s your fault. You never showed that skill.”

“Well here’s a show for your entertainment. Go ahead and enjoy me, making a fool out of myself just to celebrate your bday.”

Jason grabbed her hand, sent a knowing look to the bouncer that just let them pass without any questions and dragged her inside.

“Wait… wait, what is going on here? You know the bouncer at the club? Jason? Jason?! The actual hell- ah!”

The lights went out, she felt his hand slipping from hers and for a second that felt like eternity she was completely alone in the dark.

“Y/N?!” his voice reached her ears though she had no idea where it was coming from and the slight panic started to creep inside. A feeling multiplied when she heard ruffling and some whispers of people who were closing in on her

“Jason?! Where are you!?” Y/N started spinning in the dark, searching for anything solid that would help her cover from whatever danger might be lurking in the dark. “ah!” Her wish became granted sooner than expected when she collided with something hard and out of sheer instinct started punching and hitting the surface.

“Hey! Hey, relax! Relax! It’s me! It’s me, princess.” Familiar touch of hands intensified on hers stopping her from fighting the person that was in fact her only salvation and protection. “It’s me, you’re safe” he pulled her closer, offering comfort and calm.

“What-what happened?” she stuttered “Why did the lights-“

“SURPRISE!”

Before she made her sentence the candles and lights garland got lit and she was greeted with friends and family members standing behind the lavishly set table with a birthday cake smiling and cheering.

“You asshole!” Y/N turned to Jason, resuming to punch and hit him, only that now she could see him and her movements were far more accurate and effective “I could have had a heart attack!”

“Stop it!” Jason laughed, pretending to be scared, grabbing her waist and spinning her in her air, before putting her down and kissing her passionately, not caring about the onlookers of their guests. “Happy birthday.” He muttered against her lips.

“You’re a jerk, you know it?” she responded in a whisper before grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him again, not giving a shit who was looking likewise.

***

“You want to sneak out of here?”

After two hours of celebration, dancing, laughing and stuffing mouths with delicious food, Jason walked to her from behind offering a getaway from everyone. His warm breath followed by a gentle kiss on that soft spot between her neck and shoulder was supposed to convince her, but she was still mad about the trap he set for her.

“Mh. Dunno. You went to such a great length to bring me here and now you want me to leave?” She teased, though her tone was not matched by the action when she tilted head to give him more access to her skin and allowed his hands to wrap around her waist.

“Mhm. Yes. Exactly. Leave with me.” Jason muttered against her skin.

“You're scared you won’t find the way back home?” she smirked and the grip on her body tightened.

“Not If my home stays here….”

“Oh no!” Y/N’s joyful laughter filled the air “Cliché! And cheesy and –“

“You done?” he frowned, not liking the way she was mocking him while he was pouring his heart out.

“Nope. Don’t think so. I can go like this for hours.”

“Y/N—” he growled in a warning she was pushing him to the limits.

“But I suppose if I can do it here, I can also do it when we’re alone-“

“Oh so now you want to be alone with me only to mock me?”

“Mhm.” She grinned. “So what do you say, big boy? Shall we take a French leave?”

“And walk out silently?” Jason grinned and she did not like it at all. “Over my dead body. Again.”

Without warning he lifted her up in the air, and with the most commotion he could cause, carried her away, followed by the cried out wishes of happy birthday and all the best.

He was such a drama queen.

***

“That was fun.” She pointed out when they got back to their little flat

“Only a beginning princess. I haven’t really given you your present yet.” Jason made sure to lock the door, stepping closer to his girlfriend and immediately pulling her closer, caressing her back and kissing her neck.

“You think you know what I want, huh?” She giggled when his lips started to tickle her skin.

“Got you figured all over baby… Know all your soft spots.”

He descended to her collarbone, bending her backwards a little to make it easier. The position forced her to place hands on his shoulders for purchase.

“Are you saying I became so boring and predictable to you?” she teased not stopping him walking her backwards to the bed

“Boring?” he gave her a look over, before sliding her dress upwards, tracing over the exposed thigh “not at all.” Her dress hit the floor, removed overhead. “Predictable? Maybe…”

“Asshole…” soft sight left her lips before getting silenced by another passionate kiss.

“You know I know what you want…”

“Prove it.” Y/N did not waste a second sliding his shirt off too. Once done, she plopped on the bed, facing the ceiling and waiting for his move “Prove you really do know what I want.”

Jason smirked and laid on the bed next to her.

He knew.

He knew better than she wanted to give him credit for.

And that was exactly the reason why at the moment his fingers were running up and down her exposed belly, but never crossing the barrier of her white, innocent panties or bra.

The reason why he did not tear his and her underwear and surrender to passion.

An argument for not going straight into sex.

So many people were confusing intimacy with sex. Simplifying it. While the real connection went far beyond body-to-body contact and carnal pleasure.

Real intimacy did not mean being bare as in shedding the clothes, but exposing oneself emotionally.

And he knew.

They’ve been growing apart for so long and the best gift he could give her was his presence next to her.

Y/N smiled rolling on her side to look into his eyes, their bodies close but never really touching as if the exchanged looks and interlaced fingers were far more valuable.

“How do you like your present?” he smiled softly, playing with her fingers, voice filled with warmth and purest form of affection.

“You really did know.”

“Told you I got you figured. And it’s not really a bad thing now, is it?”

“No. No it’s not. And hey I just figured something –“

“Hm? And what may that sudden discovery be? You missed me perhaps? Or – “ he made a dramatic pause – “don’t tell me you got feelings for me! Ugh! Y/N! Disgusting!” 

She laughed.

“Feelings? No way! And how could you dare believe I might have missed your horrible attitude and character!? Are you trying to offend me?!”

“Always.”

“Perhaps I should also thank you for keeping me in check and making sure I don’t become conceited?”

“Happy birthday” he shrugged, pulling her to his chest ruffling her hair on purpose. “And don’t think I love you or something.” The last remark was followed by the kiss on her forehead.

“Me neither, Jason. Me neither-”

It seemed like they got each other figured out after all.

And maybe it was their way of healing and coming together once again.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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[coralinnii]

Congrats on 2.7k! The villain(ess) saga is my bread and butter hehe.

Anyways Id like to request borderline desperate Jamil trying to figure out Readers fav food as they can and will literally eat anything without complaint(even Lilia's cooking lol). Thank you 💖

‧₊˚✧A Dash of Sweetness ‧₊˚✧

↳ Reader S/O who eats anything

feat: Jamil  genre: fluff (like shojou manga level sweetness) note: no pronouns used with the reader, idiots in love, kinda oblivious!reader, roughly 1k words,

Random storytime, my big bro once got hungry and cooked himself eggs while the rest of us were out, and no one told him the eggs went bad. He was absolutely fine the entire day and none of us would have known if not for my bro saying it’s weird that the egg he ate was green. Yet, he said the french toasts I made once were bland T_T

Anyway, this took a while because I honestly didn't know how this story will end up, hopefully you enjoy it ^_^

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Jamil can deny all day and night, but he really likes to see you enjoy his cooking. For all the times he told you that he already has his hands full with Kalim, there was suspiciously always a warm lunchbox filled with aromatic meals made by yours truly. All for that bright smile of yours whenever you would finish off the “leftover” meal that Jamil would generously share with you. 

When Jamil realized that others have fed you, his hidden competitive nature rose. While there were many competent students with skills in the kitchen, within Jamil was a desire to see a special shine in your eyes when he cooks your favorite dish, a visual only for him.

But be it due to pride or embarrassment, Jamil doesn’t seem to be the type to be upfront with his intentions, nor does he take the straightforward tactic. Instead of asking you directly, he would ease his way through conversations with your friends just to find out your most favored dish per chance. But that turned out that that was harder than he expected. 

Day after day, Jamil would hand you a new type of dish and watch your reaction for the slightest hint of preference. Perhaps a raise of your eyebrows, a slower time to take in the taste, anything. He's racking his brain and looked for every sort of dish and recipes from all parts of Twisted Wonderland for the slight chance he comes across a dish to your absolute liking. But each time, you simply smiled graciously and thanked him for sharing with you, not that he disliked it since he did get to spend more time with you through all of this. 

But each attempt makes him all the more impatient, and curious. If you looked this beautiful just eating something good, Jamil wondered how you’d look if he served you your most favored dish? Would he see your eyes light up with joy, your body shaking with excitement, your cheeks so cutely puffy and full with every bite, maybe even bring him into a spontaneous embrace filled with so much gratitude, perhaps even a kiss…  

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jamil hid his face in embarrassment, but the burning ears and racing heart revealed how much he wanted to see that side of you.

You found it odd how often it’s been that Jamil was offering you leftover food this past week. You’re certainly not complaining but it’s always something new everyday. Sometimes Jamil would hand you a meal mixed with aromatic spices, other times an array of sugary sweet treats and pastries. It could be a simple stew that warms your soul one day, or it could be a unique cuisine with a variety of paired side dishes. 

But every day, you would notice that he would glance your way occasionally as you partake in this gracious meal, and it’s making you a bit antsy. 

“You’ve been watching me for a while.” Your voice seemed to break whatever concentration the Scarabia student had. “Is there something you’re expecting me to say?” 

Like a deer in headlights, Jamil flinched and felt a small wave of embarrassment when he realized he was caught watching you. He was sure that he was being discrete, but he supposed that as days went on he had gotten a tad bit restless and hasty. He got sloppy, he cursed to himself.

Quickly shaking his nerves away, he replied with a smile to ease you. “I’m simply glad the food is to your taste.” 

You were hardly convinced by that. Was he experimenting with dishes, you wondered. You tried to offer some insights and compliments which seemed to satisfy the long-haired upperclassman, but you felt a sneaky suspicion that he was hoping for something else. 

“Jamil, I’m really happy that you’ve been sharing all this food with me.” You said as you settled the lunchbox to your side. “But I don’t think I’m the best person if you're looking for a detailed review on food.”

Ah yes, Jamil was aware of your generous palate. While trying to discreetly find your preferences, Jamil first assumed you had a sweet tooth when you praised the Heartslabyul vice-housewarden for his sweets. But then, Jamil overheard you enjoying your visits to Mostro Lounge so perhaps you had a pension for seafood…Then, he was thrown for a loop when he heard from a giddy Lilia that he was delighted to see you have such a rigorous appetite, having tried and finished the beef-seafood-fruit stew he made for his dormmates. 

You...were not picky, to say the least.

You felt a pang of shame for your lack of refined judgment in cuisine. “Your food is really good. Sorry, I don't know what else I can say about it that is helpful to you.”

That’s it. Jamil saw an opening. “Perhaps, I could make your favorite food,” his voice sounded as though it was a spontaneous thought. “Then it would be something you can speak more on a personal level.” 

All other attempts to learn your food preferences failed in the past, but now there was an opportunity to learn firsthand from the source. It wasn’t strange, was it? It was simply the flow of the conversation, and all the long-haired upperclassman did was offer an option. What an auspicious break for Jamil.

But when Jamil looked to you to gauge your reaction, you surprised him. 

You stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Your lips quivered and shook, as though your body was nervously processing his words, which deeply worried Jamil. Has he somehow offended you? How?! 

Finally, you spoke. “You would make something…just for me?” 

“Yes, if that’s something alright with you?”

All this time, you were under the impression that Jamil was offering you food that couldn’t be finished, and you were content with taking whatever was offered, happy that the vice-housewarden thought of you in some way. But having Jamil make something homemade purposely with you in mind… to think of you as he makes the effort to do something, hoping you will enjoy it. A sweet gesture made for you, and you alone.

Feelings of butterflies filled you as your cheeks felt hot at such thoughts. You felt your lips quiver as a goofy smile crept its way onto your face, but you tried to hide your giddiness behind your fingers.

You thought for a bit, then softly you replied. “Curry would be nice.” 

Hmm? Jamil was surprised. That’s his favorite…  

“Then, we can eat together.” You smiled nervously. “I think sharing with someone you like makes food taste better.” 

Such a lovely sight of two shy fools. One was grinning oddly while the other was hiding his shamefully burning face behind his hood.

[saphronethaleph]

RTKM

“I can’t speak to him until tomorrow?” Obi-Wan checked.

“I am afraid not,” Taun We replied, with a conciliatory gesture. “It is a shame you have come all this way to meet with such inconvenience, but perhaps if you had commed ahead…?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“That would have worked better,” he decided, thinking. “Would you be able to run me through some of the key decisions made on the specifics of the army? I’m afraid they were taken several years ago, and I’ve only come to this particular project quite recently – I’d like to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

“Of course,” Taun We agreed. “In addition to providing the template, Jango made many of the decisions on training – that is not our speciality, as we prefer to allow our clients to make the appropriate arrangements in doctrinal matters.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan agreed, pacing down the hallway. “What weapons and equipment are included in the contract?”

“A basic load for the first two hundred thousand units has been procured,” Taun We replied. “All part of the initial purchase, naturally. We are aware that our clients may need to take urgent delivery. Any upgrades, however, will have to be provided by the client.”

She gestured, indicating one of the staging areas. “Rothana Heavy Engineering has provided much of the heavy equipment. Several large orders were made.”

This was getting more and more involved, and Obi-Wan’s worry was only increasing.

How much money was involved with this army?

“You mentioned behavioural modifications?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Taun We confirmed. “Neural inhibitor biochips are a standard installation on most of our clone lines. Our products are designed for maximum obedience through a careful inculcation of a culture of volunteerism, but overrides are always considered useful.”

She took out a datapad, tapping on it, then held it out for him. “A full list of the commands. I hope you’ll find that the details are entirely within the contracted parameters.”

“I hope so as well,” Obi-Wan replied, paging through the datapad.

He’d been wondering how a clone army could work, on a practical level, but seeing some of these commands it was apparent what would be involved. The clones would be trained in all military skills, and in showing initiative, but the dozens of indexed commands would erase or alter specific factors of their behaviour.

They would retain the same skills as before, but their free will would be restricted, causing them to obey as readily as droids. One of the commands on the datapad was to discard their communicators immediately, while another was an order to charge a position, regardless of casualties – and Obi-Wan had seen enough of conflict to know that that would be able to win some battles all by itself.

So long as you didn’t see the ten-year-old clones who’d be doing it as who they were. As much children as adults.

Then he stopped, and stared.

“Is something wrong, Jedi Kenobi?” Taun We asked.

Obi-Wan shook himself.

“My apologies,” he said, turning off the datapad and stowing it in his robes. “While I hope it won’t cause any problems for you, I’m going to need to check something later… are there any exercises going on at the moment?”

“Of course,” Taun We replied, pleasantly. “Would you prefer close combat exercises, heavy weapons, or long arms?”

“You’re going to need to hear this, Masters,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve arrived on Kamino and found that Master Sifo-Dyas had ordered a clone army that was – supposedly – to be used by the Jedi, at the request of the Senate almost ten years ago.”

“Killed before that, he was,” Yoda replied.

“That was my impression as well, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. “But the clone army has neural override chips in them – standard practice here, I understand – and I was given a list of the commands.”

He cleared his throat. “Order number: 66. Authorized to be used by: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, voice command, no other authorization required. Approved propagation: Command Clones may spread this order down the chain of command. Effects: Eliminate all previous affection or comradeship towards Jedi subjects of order, specified at time of use. If undefined, all Jedi are subject to order. Order subjects are to be designated traitors and eliminated immediately, maximum priority. Clones not acting in compliance with order are to be designated traitors.”

Mace Windu inhaled.

“That would be-” he began, but Obi-Wan raised his hand.

“Sorry, Master, but I hadn’t finished,” he said. “The effect section continues: redesignate Supreme Chancellor as Lord Sidious.”

Mace and Yoda both stared at Obi-Wan through the scrambled hologram link.

“Hell, kriffing,” Yoda said, eventually.

Mace started giggling.

“Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, worried.

“This is why you always read the manual,” Mace said, between giggles.

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[hyukascampfire]

To: Someone From a Warm Climate

wc: 7.5k

genre: smut, angst, fantasy violence

pairings: faerie!taehyun x human!reader

synopsis: a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

a/n: okay i am actually so obsessed with a icy and mean taehyun. like genuinely it is rotting my brain LMAO

! warnings: violence, blood is drawn, some heated kissing and groping, a magic spell is placed over a human character, fem reader, mentions of violence, animal death

playlists: taehyun | series

| next

The stale reek of the ancient, crumbling palace walls makes it feel increasingly like they are closing in on you, as you trail only a foot behind the odd goblin spy. He is quiet, relatively short in stature and quite grubby. You have plenty of reasons to be scared of him; a royal spy, no doubt lethal in skill, who could probably spin around and end your life the second he decided he didn’t like you. But you aren’t scared of him—no, your brain is quintessentially human, and more scared of whether or not the rest of them would find you up to their standards when you arrive there.

Growing up among the folk was, in an understatement, challenging. They were of a different nature. They did not understand the rules of the human world, and could never understand your resentment for being spirited away. They would argue that it was a blessing, that you would one day grovel at the feet of the faerie that had stolen you here all those years ago. You grew to hate all things faerie, a potent seed nurtured in your mind the more Nut-hatch made you sew the gowns she couldn’t manage, until your fingers were bleeding and sore. Who wouldn’t adore a life spent at the beck and call of the faerie that snatched you right from your cradle?

You trip over a loose, fractured stone, reaching out for a wall to catch yourself. You hiss as your palm stings, re-steadying yourself and spinning the hand over to inspect the burning scrapes. Blood wells around shallow scrapes, but you force your legs back into motion when you notice the stout goblin still making his way down the passage. 

“And you expect to be a spy,” the goblin laughs, a throaty and irritating sound, “crying over a scuff.” He does not even turn around to address you, but you can’t say you expected that. You had done nothing to earn his respect. You hope to change that. 

Instead of defending yourself, and making yourself sound pathetic, you just stop nursing the scrape. The walk is long, and you find your mind wandering to ways this could play out. Many of them do not end well. You squeeze your eyes shut, gulping down a swallow despite the tightness in your throat. When you feel your foot catching on flat ground again, nearly toppling forward, your eyes lurch open. Don’t close your eyes walking down the halls of decrepit old castles, genius. 

He makes a stop a few feet ahead of you, just before a towering, ornate and heavy elmwood door. The metal handles are scuffed to the point that they are utterly dull and reflect little light, and there are four long gashes that splinter the wood. Wild gashes like that could only have been carved by a beast of Faerie origin. 

“So, this is the entrance?” you ask, catching up to him. You gesture at the door in front of you. 

He levels you a stare, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. A yellowed canine so sharp it would pierce your jugular with little resistance peeks out. You squirm under his glare, yellow eyes scrutinizing you for a moment. 

“More like this,” he says simply, looking pointedly at a slate tile at his feet. You sigh. You suppose you should’ve inferred that the entrance of a royal spy den is not just a door with no visible locks or veiling. You watch as he dislodges the loose tile from the ground with practiced ease, a heavy hunk of stone that reveals a set of stairs leading down into the ground. The palace they had decided to conceal the den within is no doubt timeworn, but the staircase you look at now seems to be built much more recently. The stone is significantly less worn and eroded, save for the dirt that caked the tops of each step. 

You frown at the prospect of heading down without even so much as a torch on the wall. “How deep is that staircase?” You ask. The goblin had already begun descending, pausing at the third step with visible impatience. 

“Oh, just get down here, won’t you?” he grumbles. “This damned stone is heavy.” You observe the utter pitch black of the stairwell for a moment, before relenting and descending into it. The sound of stone grinding and the light weaning to nothingness unsettles you as he slides the coverstone back over the entrance. 

“I can’t see shit,” You say. He curses you out under his breath before he grabs you by the meat of your arm with gnarled, calloused fingers, tugging you forward and down the steps. You protest as you almost slip off the ledge of a step, stumbling down each descending one for a few moments until you come to another stop. You sit in waiting for whatever he is doing in the pitch black, breathing in the air thick with the smell of mud and all things earthy, without questioning him again. You do not intend to come off as any more incapable than you already had made yourself look. Your stomach is tied in such tangled up knots that you don’t know how to act right; how to act like the capable spy that you had painted yourself to be in order to even end up in this decaying palace. You wonder if he is second guessing his decision in even bringing you here. You hold your head up a little more, squaring your shoulders. 

A resounding pattern of knocks bounces off the dirt walls surrounding you two, and the sound of muffled words spoken follow, before a soft yellow light luminates your surroundings as a peephole slides open. You blink your eyes to readjust, taking in your surroundings for the first time since that stone snuffed the light out. A rickety, rotting wood door stands before you, oddly shaped to fit the round, burrowed out dirt hollow. The light filtering in from behind the door disappears when somebody peeks through it. No words are even exchanged before a metal sliding bolt unlocks, and the round door swings open. You squint your eyes in the light.

“This is her?” A reedy faerie stands holding the door open, her skin a pale green and with an iridescent sheen to it. The hood from the cloak around her shoulders is tugged over her head, but you can see the way she takes you in even through the shadow it casts. 

“Something wrong?” The goblin asks, shoving his way past the long limbed sprite. You stay put, not wanting to just barrel your way in. 

She scrutinizes you for a moment longer, shrugging. “No,” she says, lips pursed, “just a bit…” She hesitates on the wording. “Underwhelming?” She leaves the door to follow him in. You gnaw at your cheeks. You are used to being lackluster—You were raised from infancy here, in a world of beings that redefined the meaning of beauty. Humans could be beautiful, yeah. But it was not the beauty of starless nights for eyes, nor of flower-petal skin, and never hair of twinkling, gold-spun strands. Human beauty could only ever exist in the four-walled prison of facial symmetry and physical attraction. Even the most gritty of the folk had a certain air of ethereal about them, worted and twisted as they may be. You resent them every day for it. 

Their little hideout is humble. It smells of old wood, and furniture is minimal. The two of them sit at a square table to the center of the room, leaving three other seats empty. You mull over whether or not simply taking a seat next to them would be offensive, before just shoving your nerves down with a foot long stick and just sitting. The sprite girl tugs her hood off her head, revealing a head of tousled white hair, except for horizontal stripes of black that decorate some chunks. Her eyelashes are chunky, spidery, and curled, so long they tickle her brow with each blink, and they frame the green pair of eyes not too different in tone from her skin. She sits nonchalant and kicked back in the chair, chunky boots up and criss-crossed on the table. 

“This is the place where you’ll meet us,” she says, addressing you finally. She wiggles a foot as if this conversation is the last she’d like to be having. You pause inwardly—you had thought this would be some sort of rugged, skill-testing spy interview, not initiation. “You’ll meet the others whenever they–”

You cut her off. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my qualifications?” 

She quirks a delicate brow.

 “Or, like, test me? Or something?” you continue. The two of them share a look, before breaking out into snorts and giggles. You shift in your seat, frowning. There was nothing funny about your questions.

“We would have never even brought you down here if we didn’t already decide on you,” the sprite girl says, and then gestures at the goblin, “We heard plenty of you from Gristle.” 

The goblin sputters to explain himself, embarrassed how the sprite had made it seem like he was raving. Gristle is his name, then. “We needed a human counterpart,” he says, pointing a clawed finger at the sprite girl. “Nobody else was doing the heavy lifting in recruiting. You try and see how it is, then.” He huffs, voice gravelly. “We needed one, and I brought you one.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, voice softening to the tone reminiscent of one used to soothe a tantruming toddler. “You sure did, Gristle.” She flexes her booted foot to point in your direction, “But did you bring us a competent one?” 

You cross your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes. “I’m plenty competent,” you say. Sure, you are just some inconsequential servant girl of a busy seamstress faerie. But you need to make something more of yourself. You could learn anything, if it meant that. “You don’t have to worry about me running off and telling anybody anything.”

She barks a laugh, as if the notion was ridiculous, “Well, I should know that, because I assume you value your life well enough.” She lets her feet drop off the table, prowling toward you, before sliding an ornate dagger from its sheath at her hip and brandishing it to you. “But could you even hold your own if someone engages you out in the field?” She then drives the thick pommel of it into your chin. Your head snaps back with the force of the strike, and you can feel by the warm trickle of blood that it had busted your chin open. 

You look at her, wild-eyed and accusatory. Your jaw aches as you open your mouth to ask, “What was that?” A trail of thick blood runs down your neck, and she just scoffs.

“Figures.” The sprite sheaths the dagger, dropping back into her seat unceremoniously as if she did not just bash you in the chin. 

“I don’t know how to fight yet,” you say, wiping at your neck. You bring your hand up to check the damage, hissing through your teeth as you prod around the gash. You shake your shoulders, as if it would shake off the searing pain running up and down your jaw, before adding, “But I can learn. I will learn.” Gristle tosses you a rag he had retrieved silently from a drawer, his mouth pulled taut into a line. You wipe up the remnants of the blood, the metallic tang of it finally reaching your nose. You shudder as you press the rag to the wound and hold it there. 

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Gristle cracks, his grin toothy. “We weren’t going to find humans who could already fight,” he says, a fur-tipped ear twitching, “but one willing to learn…” He looks at you, and then returns his gaze to the sprite. “We can work with that, Cricket.” When her face stays drawn, he repeats, “We can work with it.” His yellow saucer eyes are serious.

Cricket doesn’t say anything; her grassy eyes simply go distant with thought for a moment. It was true; humans are not brought to the world of Faerie to learn to fight. Or to be anything more than servants, at that. The luckiest ones, like you, are at the very least schooled on reading and faerie histories. Lucky would be an overstatement, though. Nobody stolen from their homes, and then forced to accept a reality in a foreign world, is genuinely lucky. Despite it, you no longer dream of the life you could’ve had in the human world. It is not your life. It will never be your life. And, considering the look that Cricket and Gristle share, your life is now to be the human counterpart of a royal band of spies. 

“Do you know how an oath works?” Cricket asks, pulling out that same embellished dagger and spinning it between two fingers. You hesitate, before nodding. You don’t, and she seems to read right through you. She narrows her eyes at you. 

“First of all, don’t lie. Never lie. We have to be able to trust each other.” She says, still spinning that glittering dagger utterly nonchalant. “You’ll want our trust when you’re on the field and need your back covered. Not knowing how to officiate an oath is one thing,” she stops spinning the blade to point it at you, “lying to me is another.”

 You shake off the embarrassment that crawls up your throat, “I’m sorry. I want you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust is especially important with you,” she says. It’s true. Humans can lie blatantly with their mouths. The folk could twist truths to deceive, and bend over backwards to make one thing sound like another, but they could not just lie. In your schooling years, you were taught that a lie is simply against faerie nature. You had laughed at that—if anything seemed to be in faerie nature, it was lying.

 “We can start our trust,”—she gestures with one finger between you and herself—“off on the right foot with a geas.” She takes your arm not holding the rag and tugs it toward her. You struggle with the word geas. A geas is a faerie ensorcellment the folk dearly love subjecting humans, who did not know any better, to. They sweet-talk them into it, and when the human was fully ensorcelled, the human becomes a living plaything to make dance unabashedly and kiss the dirt off their boots. The term leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

“An oath and a geas are not interchangeable,” you say, wary and preparing to take your arm back. “Which is it?”

 “An oath means nothing to a human.” She looks to Gristle for support, “Right or wrong, Gristle?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

Cricket rolls her eyes. “We just have to get some type of insurance,” she starts, “so that I won’t have to end up tying up loose ends.” A knock rings through the room, the same rhythmic knock that Gristle had performed on the door. Gristle clambers over to the door and slides the peephole open. 

“Decided to show up to work today?” Gristle says through the peephole, before sliding the hatch open. You look away from the door before seeing who enters as Cricket grows impatient, spinning your arm so that your palm is facing the roof. She takes her dagger and slides it across the delicate skin. You try to reclaim your hand, but she holds it steady and slides a slit across her own palm. 

“Are you guys trying to bleed me for every drop I have?” you protest. You could probably count the amount of wounds you were inflicted with since stepping into the palace on two hands. You watch as she clasps your hands together, mushing the wounds, still seeping blood, together. 

You had forgotten about the knock at the door until a new voice with a deep and silvery quality to it asks, “Trying to do it before I could get here, Cricket?” The voice travels from behind you to in front of you, and the man behind it comes into view. He is relatively tall, towering over Gristle and quite a bit taller than Cricket. His hair is dark, hanging over a pair of sharp eyes that glare daggers at Cricket. You thank all things good that he is not leveling you with that icy smolder. He is notably less armed than the other two, with just a bow at his back. No doubt some discreet daggers here and there, though. You notice quickly that his ears are the distinct rounded form of a human’s ear. 

“This is Taehyun.” Cricket gestures with an exasperated arm. If the roundness of his ears is not already telling, the name is. He was human. You frown, retracting your hand.

“I thought you guys were looking for a human counterpart? That you had no human piece?” 

The quickness that Cricket was trying to get a geas over you is already unnerving, but now they are lying about the circumstances of your recruitment?

 Cricket gives Taehyun a look that could match the heat of a thousand suns.Taehyun’s face is stony and unmoving. Gristle does not make so much as a peep. 

“Taehyun,” she takes your wounded hand into her own again, “is faerie.” 

“What about his ears, then?” You make a gesture around your own ear, one that drags along the round curve of it. Faeries were not born with rounded ears, not the goblins, nor the hobs, nor  brownies, not even ones that are the most humanlike in nature. You have seen folk with knives for teeth, skin of boulders, hair from ear to clawed foot, but never rounded ears. It was another intrinsic piece of their nature; what set you apart from them. He was absolutely a human, and they were absolutely liars. They had to have spoken their words in a way that made one thing seem like another, spun truths into lies. It was the faerie way. You would not be magically compelled by liars. Taehyun’s face flashes with the first emotion you had seen since he arrived, but it is muddled and hard to read. 

Cricket scowls deeper, “He is not a human.” 

Taehyun gets in closer, his eyes venomous. “You know how I feel about that shit.”

 You try to decipher whether he meant being human, or the geas, but his next words solve it for you. “And you were going to try and do it before I could say anything.” When Cricket opens her mouth to say something, he cuts her off, “Don’t you say that’s not true.” 

Cricket turns to you, decidedly not responding to Taehyun. “I want the geas, because it will make us feel safer. I swear on the Mighty King’s life that I will not use it to control you in any way, other than to keep your mouth shut about our operations. You will not hear another thing of it from this day forward, anyway.” Her words are proof enough of her honesty, plain and so obvious in their wording that she could not be twisting her truths around a lie. She means what she says, or else she would not be able to say it. “Would it make you feel better if you were the one to make it, Taehyun? Would you just shut up, and let us move on from this?” She asks. Gristle feels the tension as bad as you do, so thick in the air you could choke on it, making himself busy sliding a blade down a sharpening stone.

Taehyun does not respond, his black eyes conveying exactly how he feels about that. You attempt to ease the atmosphere, while also catering to your own curiosities, “How is he a faerie, with rounded ears? That doesn’t…” Taehyun’s eyes flicker at the topic of his ears again. “Exist.”

“Well, it seems you don’t know all that you think you do about Faerie then, huh?” Taehyun spits. He spins, and begins for a hall that leads further into the spy den, long legs clad in black striding near silently beneath him. The words crawl under your skin successfully. You could spend your whole life here, and still the folk would see you as foreign. It makes you want to make that geas, to make something of yourself. To be a spy, and make them see that you are so much more than what Nut-hatch told you that you are destined to be; A servant to the superior beings. To make him chew his words, because you know plenty about this foul world, and how to live in it. If anything was true, it was true that you know more about it than him. 

You turn to Cricket, more determination in you now than you even had when you pledged your case to Gristle. “I’ll take the geas. I’ll do whatever it takes to become a competent piece of your team, I swear it. I know my words don’t carry much weight to you, but please, let me show you that I mean them.” Cricket grins, tightening her hand to yours, tilting her head to one side and batting her spiky lashes at you. 

“I knew you were a smart girl.” She taps you on the nose, before her expression drops to a more solemn one. The headiness of faerie enchantment tugs at the sides of your vision, turning it wavy and magnified about the edges. You feel it thread through the air, and then spread from your palm to your arm, and then all over, under your skin, like an itch, and in your head, like potent faerie wine. It lasts for a moment’s width longer, before you blink it away. She drops her hand from yours. 

“You will not speak of this team, nor its operations, to anybody I do not authorize, and are, from this exact moment forward, unable to reveal the location of our center of operations.” You shudder under the gravity of knowing that your autonomy is vulnerable, and in her hands. Was it ever truly yours to have, though? Faerie glamour and enchantments on humans are unpunishable, and often seen as entertainments. Is a geas permanent? You shove back that worry; it’s too late now.

Gristle whistles a descending tone, finally making himself known again. “This place, we call Homebase. Or, The Hole. Whichever you prefer,” he gestures around, and you take in the shoddy ceiling, the make-shift kitchen, and the weapons strewn about every surface. Definitely a spy hideout. “There are a few others for you to meet. They come and go; but you’ll be staying here, I understand?”

 You nod. He knew about your situation with Nut-hatch already.

“Okay, then. Let’s get you a room.” He hobbles to that hallway Taehyun had stormed down, his gold-embroidered cloak dragging on the floor behind him. You follow, scoping out the scenery. 

“Do the others not stay here?” you ask. You two continue down that same hall, the smell of underground musk still heavy. That would take you some getting used to. 

He grunts in affirmation. “Whoever you met today, stay here. The others dwell elsewhere, for some reason or another.” He stops at a room, and opens the door. The room is ornate in contrast with the other rooms of The Hole, the bedding plush and made of fine threads. It was not anything overly extravagant, but perfectly fit for a spy of The King. It is better than sleeping in the sweltering-hot attic of Nut-hatch’s cottage, you decide, appreciating the cool and damp air. And here, they decide that you are worthy enough of your own room. That is more than enough for you.

 “But, you’ll meet them tomorrow, no doubt. Make this room your own, I’ll fetch some more fitting garments for you,” he gestures down to the simple linen frock you adorn. You feel the odd tickle of embarrassment at the back of your mind. The irony of your attire, while living under the roof of an esteemed seamstress, is hard to ignore. Nut-hatch had always liked to scold you up and down that there is no need to look frilly working a gown shop, while simultaneously being dressed in ribbons and lace. You take a deep breath of linen-scented air, and then release it. And then, you get to making the room your own. 

❉

You do your best to plant your booted foot to the ground, to save yourself from anxiously toeing dirt or stone. The clothes they had brought for you were odd and foreign, as someone who only wore the most efficient of dresses and leather slippers for the entirety of her life, leading up to this moment. The hooded cloak bunches around your neck and shoulders, and it is stifling. The boots are so heavy and chunky that they chastely kiss the ground when you step. It trips you up. The sensation of pant legs securing your thighs and shins is suffocating, and the weight of the weapons secured by straps are heavier than you’d ever expected them to be. And, to top it all off beautifully, your first assignment is with Taehyun. You’re supposed to be heading north, to the land of the Northern Queen, where the folk are Unseelie, and are said to be the most vicious. You’d already let that thought sink in, though. Now, all you can mull over is spending the trip with Taehyun; the contempt he had regarded you with before he left last night is still fresh in your mind.

Lightweight footsteps approach behind you, and you know it’s Taehyun. He plops a full pack on the ground wordlessly, before tugging the hood of his mantle up and over his head. He is, like yesterday, fashioned in a black tunic and a matching doublet, embroidered with silver threads at the lapel and cuffs, a heavy bow strapped to his back. Maybe a bit flashy for days of traveling by foot, but maybe you also have no idea what flashy actually means. 

You cross your arms over your chest, before gesturing to the bag you had already packed for yourself, “I packed.” 

He sends you a vacant look. “Put that one back.” He says. The air is so tense, you consider just doing it, but his tone ruffles your feathers. 

“I have stuff that I want to bring in mine.” He doesn’t respond, his face locked and static. “Look,” you huff, “I know you don’t respect me yet, but I’m trying my best to become competent, you know?” 

“I respect you,” he picks up the pack he brought for you, and dusts the bottom off. “You would freeze to the core in the north without the stuff packed in here. Competence is nothing to a corpse.” 

You blink at the bluntness of his words and press your mouth into a thin line, before placing your original bag on the table and slinging the other over your shoulder. You gesture for him to lead the way, and he does so without falter; and so you start your trek off on a lovely note. 

❈

There is plenty of time to mull over what you would be doing in the north as Taehyun leads you through the lush forest. The hum of insects and nearby streams, and the cloying scent of summer-warmed bushberries, reign supreme. When your stomach begins to rumble for not having eaten all day, you stop by a bush with exceptionally heavy branches and begin picking. The juice of the berries is thick and golden, like honey, when they mush between your fingers, and it glitters in the odd way that faerie fruit does. 

“Are you dull?” Taehyun’s voice, thick with contempt, makes you jump and lose your handful of berries. “That is a Goldhip bush,” he says, his brows pinched, “you would die without a sign; just drop dead to the grass.” He scoffs, spinning and heading the same way he had been going before you decided to grab fistfuls of, apparently, intensely poisonous berries. You follow him, shaken. 

“I had no idea,” you say, mostly to yourself, but he stops, turning on you. 

“You can’t afford having no idea out here. You’re going to have to step up to your role, now.” He gives you a long look, before turning back around and stepping over a felled log. 

You step over the log as well. “I didn’t really have any reasons to know your poisons in my old life,” you say. Nut-hatch had at least fed you well, and you were never set out scavenging off berries with an empty belly. You set your pace so that you are parallel to him, instead of trailing him. “What are the ones I should know?” 

He doesn’t even pause to think for a moment. “Goldhip berries are turned into a liquid extract, and dropped into drinks. It doesn’t have a smell, but has a notorious sweet taste. It doesn’t matter by the time you taste it, though; you’re as good as dead.” A chill burrows its way under your skin. You had been so close to death; had you just popped a berry into your mouth, you would be dead right now. 

“How would you even avoid being poisoned by that, then?” 

“You don’t.” He deadpans. “It’s why you have to stay always painfully aware of your surroundings. Always.” You nod.

“Silver and salt are poison to the folk. They singe the skin, and when ingested, they decay the insides. It’d be best if you use that to your advantage. A poison harmless to you, but deadly to another, is an asset.” You clasp your hands and thank the sky inwardly at that. It feels like an ah-hah moment, to have something over the folk. Small mercies. 

“Human poisons don’t work on the folk at all. So, whatever you remember from your old life won’t serve you here.”

Old life? You have no old life. “I was raised here,” you say, keeping the hurt that tugs at your features on a tight leash. “I was in Faerie before I could even walk.” 

You watch as his face falters, sunlight filtering through tree leaves dappling his features and highlighting his nose. He is beautiful, like all fae are. He only nods in acknowledgement, but you can tell he tucks the information away.

He presses forward. “Hunter’s Bane is a milled-up tree leaf that inebriates, and fizzes up the drink it is sprinkled into. Not deadly, but the state it leaves you in could be. Deadly Pinchweed is ground up as well, and leaves a green tint—and is deadly. 

“Lachrymose is a faerie fruit. As I’m sure you know, it makes a human agreeable and fogs their mind. It’s usually not prepared in any special way, just fed to glamoured humans.” 

The name of the fruit brings back the memory of a boy, a bit older than you, who at a particularly wild revelry was fed faerie fruit, and buttered up by folk who thought it would be exceptionally humorous for the boy to make an audience with The King. Of course, the boy did, spewing nonsense at the foot of the dais, before going to wrap The King in a hug. A guard shot an arrow through his heart. He could not have been older than sixteen. Nut-hatch barred you from any form of revelry after that; she couldn’t spare her hard-raised shop worker over some faerie fruit. You fold the memory up neatly, compacting it so that you can keep it vibrant and alive in your mind. You solidify, in that memory, that Taehyun and every other wretched creature of his kind, would hardly blink twice to see you die such a death. 

❉

Taehyun kindles a small but mighty fire with dry twigs and pine needles. You settle onto the ground, propping your back against a gnarled trunk and try to breathe out the ache in your back with each breath. You miss the way the mattress back at home base had cradled your body into sleep, and abhor the dirt and foliage that sticks to your pants and palms where they meet the ground. 

Taehyun’s voice, returning from his last round of searching for pine needles, startles you. “Get up.”

 You shoot him a look that, hopefully, channels all your exhaustion. “I just sat down,” you whine, exasperated. 

“If you’re hungry, get up.” He says, narrowing his eyes at you. He has ditched his mantle cloak and his doublet, and now is only in his simple black tunic, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s serious, then. 

You huff and complain, but stand up and dust off your palms and pants from the needles that stick to them. The especially deep indents itch a bit, and you soothe them as you follow him promptly into the thicker part of the woods. 

“Lighten your feet,” Taehyun commands, his voice low, as a third twig snaps under your foot. You wince; trying to replicate the lightness of his walk, but it makes no difference. If anything, your gait is more off than before, now that you’re overthinking it. Taehyun stops walking, pointing to his feet, before slowly demonstrating his footfalls. “Tense your legs, and keep your weight on your back foot until the other is fully on the ground.”

You oblige, and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as it works. 

The two of you continue through the shrubbery and low-hanging branches, until Taehyun pauses, placing a finger over his lips. You see it now, too; a plump pheasant that pecks at the foliage, none-the-wiser. Taehyun reaches for his bow, and notches an arrow. He pulls the bowstring taut, centering his shot, and the arrow sings as he lets it fly. 

The thud of the arrow piercing the pheasant makes your stomach flip. The pheasant cries, the arrow having pinned its wing and pierced through its stomach, but not killed it instantly. You avert your eyes as the scene burrows under your skin. Your heart sinks heavy like a stone in water. Taehyun’s hurried steps bound over toward the still squawking bird, and the sound of metal unsheathing is followed by a loud final cry, and then silence. Your muscles go rigid, and your nails dig deep crescents into your palm. You do not open your eyes, even as Taehyun announces in a whisper that he spots a second bird. The pheasant’s final cries bounce off the walls of your mind, reverberating and driving a stake into your hurting heart more with each echo.

❉

Taehyun ended up catching two other pheasants on the way back to the temporary campsite. You watch as they roast over the fire, yellow flames licking at their lightly charred bodies. Taehyun takes one off, passing it to you on a stick whittled sharp at the end. You shake your head, queasy at the thought of eating it. 

He delivers you nothing but a cold resolve. “Respect its life.” He holds the stick there for you to take again. 

“I’ll throw up,” you say, shaking your head again and wrapping your arms around your stomach. 

He barks a laugh. “This is ridiculous.” He lets the stick drop back over the fire, and you flinch as embers flurry up into the air, and narrowly miss you. Attitude flares up in your chest, and you go to say something smart-mouthed, but before you can, he continues, “Go back, if you’re just going to become a waste of my time. You think you’re a spy under The King? I don’t see shit but a spoiled brat, who thinks life should be handed to her. If you wanted that, this was not the life to choose.”

You reel at the bite in his voice. His words cut right where it hurts. “You think so?” you say, willing back the hot tears that prickle your eyes. They would only prove his case. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that you don’t know shit about being a spy,” he says, standing up. “I know that you’re weak, and for some reason think you’re ready for a world that is going to kill you, and that you should probably be on your way back to Homebase to tell them you were never cut out for this.” 

You’re up to your feet in an eye’s blink, closing the space between you two. “Humans don’t have the privilege of being spoiled brats in your world,” you hiss. The warm sensation of a tear rolling down your cheek has you hoping that he doesn’t notice, and you reach up to wipe it quickly. You curse being an angry crier. “I’m doing what I can, with what I have. Just teach me what I need to learn, and I’ll learn it.” 

“Eat the damn pheasant, then.” he urges, like a wild, roaring beast in a delicate bauble shop. 

You laugh an exhausted laugh. “Would it kill you to have a little compassion? Just a little? I’ve never killed something, and then eaten it. It's… I think it’ll take me some time to get used to it. Just give me some time, yeah?” Your mind urges you to scream that the standards he is holding you to are unfair, that the two of you lived very different lives, and that you are going on this mission regardless of his haughty attitude, but you tidy those emotion-fueled words into something that Taehyun might like more.

He goes quiet. You sit for a moment, too, stewing in all your rehashed hurt. It isn’t just that he’s treating you like a burden, or the low-blows he seems to keep opting for. He’s unknowingly cutting down to your deepest worries, rubbing salt in the wound, that maybe you are never going to amount to anything more than a servant girl. 

He unsheathes the longsword at his back, getting into a solid stance. “Show me you can be strong, then.” You hesitate. You’ve never so much as swung a sword, and the weight of it is heavier than you’d expect as you unsheath it. The metal hisses, and the handle of it is solid and plainly decorated in your palm. You replicate his stance, and shift the weight of the sword awkwardly in your hand, trying to find your grip

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say, palms a bit sweaty against the cold metal, rocking in your stance. He swings hard, and the force of it colliding with your sword jolts you. It flies from your hands. You panic, frozen to the ground as he swings again. Your heart lurches as you realize he isn’t going to pull his swing. 

Wind whooshes as his sword stops just by your face. He leaves it there, pointed right at your nose. “Pick it up,” he cocks his head toward your sword. You stare at him, wide-eyed, as you oblige. You both reset your stance, him barking commands every time he finds your stance or swing to be flawed. You accept his criticism with open arms—it is better than disdain painting his features. 

You grit your teeth. You’re sheened in sweat, tugging for deep breaths, and your limbs are slow to recover from each blow he sends you. You’re twisting, dodging, and parrying how he tells you, but it's sloppy, and you have to summon your energy from already low reserves for each. His skin is irritatingly free of sweat, and still of that oddly cold and pristine quality. You had not noticed before how much it looks like frost twinkles under his skin. 

Your back collides with a tree you had not noticed Taehyun was backing you into, air escaping your lungs in a big whoosh. He gains on you, pressing the long edge of his sword so that it sits mind-numbingly close to your neck. You can feel your pulse rushing in your neck, heart beating from your chest in an almost audible thudding. You continue to try and catch your breath. He swoops in so close that his breaths fan over your face. An emotion that you have a hard time reading flickers in his eyes, and then he’s slamming his mouth to yours. 

It’s a desperate clashing of teeth and lips. He lets his sword drop from your neck and to the ground, and he takes your face in his callous-roughened hands. Your own find purchase at his shoulders, tugging him closer as if he could be any more so. The sound that escapes you as his hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head and tightens, tugging your head back and pressing in with more fervor, is like none you’ve ever made before. 

When he pulls back for air, your vision swims around the edges, and is dappled with stars. He studies your face, and you’re suddenly more conscious than ever of how your cheeks burn and your lips are smeared with his kiss. He takes in your debased state. His eyes have more fire in them than you ever thought you’d see—swirling and ravenous, an innate need clawing to reach the surface . It’s a dizzying mixture of pure headiness and I shouldn’t be doing this. He dives back in, and each nip and lick at your neck is blazing. They electrify your veins and send shockwaves buzzing from the column of your throat and through your chest, zipping up and down every one of your limbs. You’re not even sure that, if Taehyun were to stop holding you fast to the tree, you would be able to stand on your wobbly and unreliable legs. 

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice sounding not entirely your own. “Taehyun.” 

“You piss me off so fucking bad.” He keeps one hand fisted at the back of your head, exposing your neck to him, but the other travels down your body experimentally. “And I have no idea why.” 

Your mind wants to reel and dwell on that, but he doesn’t let you. He wanders a hand about the hem of your shirt, and then he dares to go underneath it, and then he trails that cold hand up the plane of your abdomen. Your stomach flips. “Have,”–you gasp–“have you considered that maybe you’re just an asshole?” 

He draws back from ravishing your neck to give you a look, his eyes wild and untrained. It feels, for some odd reason, good to break down his impenetrable exterior—to puncture it down to where he is in his basest desires. Maybe it’s because you just need him to see you as something other than useless; to need you so badly that he forgets his contempt for you. He maintains eye contact as his thumb traces the swell of your breast, watches you gasp as he finds your nipple and rolls it under his thumb. His eyes set you ablaze, and he delights in the way you burn. 

“What, you’ve got nothing to say to that?” you say, meeting all the intensity of his gaze the best you can. You try to goad him into something; even if anger, so that he’ll soothe the pounding between your thighs. He does not entertain you, just regarding you with that same blistering intensity. Your scalp begins to ache with the relentless tug of his fist, and you whimper, your hands leaving their place in his tunic to grab at his hand. 

“You’re every bit the whiny brat I’ve known you to be,” he says. His voice is gravelly, as if even those few words were hard for him to formulate. Just as your chest had adjusted to the chill of his palm, he drags his fingertips back down your abdomen. The pads of his fingers rake over you, your skin prickling and alight. 

“And you’ve got every bit of faerie entitlement in you,” you hiss. His hand pauses just above the waistline of your bottoms, and every bit of untamed need carved into his features is dust in the wind within a heartbeat. You reel at the loss of warmth as he pulls away. You try to reach out for him, to tug him back and wipe that awful indifferent look off his face again. But he’s already kicking out the fire and propping himself up against a thick pine tree. Your stomach churns wildly as you set up your own sleeping situation. The silence is worse than any you’ve sat through—it’s charged with words better left unspoken, and heavy with the weight of your hands all over each other seconds ago. 

Sleep does not come easy to you, but when it does, you sleep dreamless and weary.

END PART 1

a/n: how was thatttt? my first fanfic!! i've been looking forward to doing a high fantasy/faerie fanfic for sooo long. i'm sorry to leave you off like that but.. know that I am plotting, and planning. i'm already working on part 2, so stay tuned!!

taglist: @lvrs-street2mmorrow

[vampyrris]

<3

levi waited as he patiently watched you bargain with a vendor for a silk scarf you fancied.

“but it’s such a small scarf!”

“it’s made from the finest silk, ma’am, imported from overseas.”

a small smile made its way to levi’s lips as he watched your face turn into a red tomato from frustration. you humphed loudly as you handed the bag of coins to the vendor and snatched the scarf from the stall.

he watched you with an amused expression as you wrapped the evidently small scarf around your neck and began to knot it. he could see your lips muttering words to yourself as you proudly walked back to him.

“that was real mature.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “don’t you patronize me, levi ackerman.”

levi huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “at least you entertained everyone around you including myself with your excellent bargaining skills.”

you humphed loudly again as you walked alongside him, your hand casually finding its place on the back of his chair as you moved forward. before you even got the chance to step ahead, headed to your next destination, levi maneuvered himself in front of you.

he levelled you with a calm stare.

“sit.”

you regarded him with a puzzled glance. “huh?”

levi moved himself closer to you, and patted his lap. “sit.”

you assessed him carefully. “i don’t want to hurt you”

he rolled his eyes. “you won’t hurt me. you’ve walked long enough, let me take us wherever it is we are going next.”

your eyes softened at his words, so you let out a small sigh before doing as he asked. you carefully put most of your weight on his good leg as you splayed your legs over the other.

levi’s hand came up to adjust your skirt that had ridden up a little, before going back to the joystick on the armrest. you looked at his solemn expression as he shuffled on the seat, making sure both of you were comfortable.

something twisted in your chest.

unable to help yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the scars on his cheek as you planted a soft kiss.

“thank you. and just so you know, i never want you to feel like you somehow owe me something in exchange of me loving you.” you then kissed his lips. “i love you and i care about you so, so much.”

levi looked at you with an expression that made you want to embrace him tightly and never let him go, and never let harm come his way ever again.

he silently took your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes falling shut as he kissed your knuckles gently.

wrapping your other arm around his shoulders, you leaned in to kiss him once more. “let’s go get those baked cinnamon thingies you love so much, and then take a stroll in the park.”

levi smiled and nodded, but not before correcting you that the baked cinnamon thingies were called cinnamon rolls.

the sky had turned into hues of lilacs, pinks and oranges by the time you and levi reached the park. in one hand you held your cinnamon roll, and with the other you fed levi his.

“mm, this is actually so good. why did i hate it again when i first tried it?” you moaned in delight through a mouthful of sweet goodness.

“because it wasn’t drowning in diabetes. you’re gonna get sick.” levi remarked, eyeing the bun in your hand as he navigated you both through the wide expanse of the green and flowery park.

your cinnamon roll was oozing with an unhealthy amount of the creamy icing, but you couldn’t care less.

levi opened his mouth for another bite. you lifted the bun to his mouth, but just as he was about to bite into it, you pulled it out of reach with a giggle.

a burst of laugh escaped you when levi shot you an annoyed look, daring you to test him again.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. here you go,” you lifted it to his mouth—only to pull it away again, breaking into another fit of laughter.

“i’m gonna throw you off my lap.” levi muttered.

you let out a dramatic gasp as you held the roll to his mouth again. “don’t make fun of me because i like sugar, you turd.”

“you mean diabe—mmf!”

you shoved the bun into his mouth. his eyes widened in shock while you grinned foolishly at his look of despair.

he began chewing angrily, as he whipped out his white kerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped at the corners of his lips.

“i can’t believe you manage to look this adorable even when you’re mad. oh my god,” you kissed his cheek, puffed and stuffed from the big bite thanks to your assault of the cinnamon roll.

you went to kiss him again, but he dodged it, your puckered lips meeting nothing but the air.

you huffed in frustration half-heartedly. “i’m sorry, i won’t do it again. promise.”

he grumbled under his breath. only then did you notice a remaining crumb of the bun still lingering on his chin. using your finger, you caught it and put it in your mouth.

levi’s cheeks turned pink at that.

you smiled as you leaned your head against his and began finishing the rest of your rolls.

fortunately enough, you were strolling closely near the flower bushes. you seized the opportunity and plucked a handful of hydrangeas.

“relax,” levi muttered.

you pouted as you dropped the flowers on your lap. “why do you sound so mad at me.”

you picked one and placed it behind levi’s ear. “i’m sorry for making you choke on a cinnamon roll. i love you.” you pouted again, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

levi shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, before absentmindedly placing something in your hair.

you scrunched your brows, immediately plucking it out.

it was a red rose. a loud gasp escaped your lips. “where did you get this?”

levi only rolled his eyes. “while you were too busy bullying me, we passed rose bushes.”

you sputtered dramatically. “excuse you, i was loving you!”

his lips quirked to one side at that. he placed another red rose in your hair.

“that one has a lot of thorns.” he warned, as he reached up and tucked a loose strand of your hair.

you brought the rose to your nose and inhaled the familiar scent. “i’m sorry for bullying you.” you said, your head falling against his chest.

his arm snaked around your waist and squeezed your side.

“you can make it up to me, when we get home.” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your temple.

you looked up at him, your hand going around his torso. “i shall, mr. ackerman.”

he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a while.

“i love you, mrs. ackerman, bullying and all.”

you bit your lip to contain your huge smile as you looked at him.

“take us home, please. i’ve got a little surprise for my dear husband.”

[stardustlixie]

cry me a river [h.hj x reader]

trope: enemies to lovers, uni au

word count: 13.6k

warnings: not much, arguing and bickering obvi, like one badly written breakdown, mentions of abuse but no serious descriptions, a little ateez slander i'm sorry someone had to be villain, that's it i think, lmk if i missed something

Some say a child’s mind is like a blank book, and what's written in it has lasting impact, but you'd say it's more like wet clay, writing on paper can be erased, or cut down, or covered, but what about fingerprints on clay, what about the shapes it was twisted into? those cannot be undone, not without breaking.

And you're a living example.

You were the 12 year old who was told love was something you'd have to earn. You were once the 12 year old crying when your father burst out telling you ‘second is just the first loser', you were the 12 year old shaking, lest the test paper with an 82 on it warrant physical pain. 

You were the 13 year old who spent their birthday evaluating what made up a human's worth. Kindness, faith, and community were things that your mother would have said, but certificates, achievements and excellence would be your dad's answer. And for the next 8 years, it'd be yours too.

Young minds are beautiful places, but they trust to a fault, taking whatever is presented to them as absolute truth, often hurting themselves to a point where they find themselves unable to trust when older. And yet, painfully unable to shake the beliefs embedded in their psyche.

Your father isn't in your immediate vicinity to remind you that you're not lovable if you don't have something to offer and he'd be surprised if someone ever loved you for who you are. But his voice still lives in the back of your head, it's enough reminder of your uselessness without Hyunjin exiting.

Hwang Hyunjin, how you hate his guts and how your father would have loved him. All things good: funny, smart, popular, skilled, but most of all, the best at everything. 

Always first, always a step ahead of you, prettier than you, smarter than you, more friendly than you.

More than you.

Being the best comes easy to him, hell, everything comes easy to him. Especially making you feel small. He sucks the oxygen out of any place you are in.

It seems like his only purpose in the universe is causing you problems, putting you down, destroying your self esteem, getting into the most sensitive corners of your mind and evoking intense emotions that you didn't even know you were capable of feeling.

He brings out the worst of you, makes your insecurities pop out like bright red on a white canvas. 

Maybe it's you who's fragile. But not being affected is difficult when most of his attacks seem to mirror your father's statements.

You don't like Hwang Hyunjin. You know it, Felix knows it, Minho knows it, Hyunjin knows it, the entire campus knows it. 

You don't remember when exactly Hyunjin got to this point, but it didn't start like this. 

It seems like forever but it's been just about a year since you met him at that party. It's no question that he's good looking, but he had an allure to him that day. Though he was reserved at first, you both soon began to get along and your friendship began to turn into a playful rivalry.

The light hearted competition in everything was welcome at first, but there came a point where it wasn't light hearted anymore. And maybe one of you unknowingly crossed a line or two, but you were hurling sharp insults at the other in only a couple of months of meeting.

You were enemies before you were really friends.

But you blame him for that. You weren't at fault when you recieved your first semester grades and first thing he said was “Seems like second is what you'll always be.” 

You weren't over reacting that day when he suggested getting drunk at a party was your only chance of getting laid because “Your personality will distract any sober person from your looks, no one would stay with you long enough to reach that level of trust.” 

You weren't overreacting when you'd grabbed him by the collar and told him “Talk to me about trust when someone shows interest in something other than your reputation or face. Talk to me about human connection when you know what it fucking feels like.”  

That was probably the harshest thing you'd said to him, and you knew that, because this was his fragile point. He brought it upon himself though. He wasn't seen around for a week after that. But then he was back, the same, with remarks on everything about you, not always prime hurtful, but always unwelcome. There was nothing you did that deterred him from being so disruptive. So you learnt to let it be. 

But your friends didn't get the memo. They seem to get along with him really well. To this day they've been trying to get you two to ‘settle your differences’. You reckon they'll get tired one day.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

This was a bad idea. They should have given up after two of their previous attempts.

Closed rehearsal room and your friends who thought of inviting the bane of your existence to join for a dance practice session.

“Darling you're not even trying,” he condescends, “though I don't think it'd make much of a difference if you did.” There goes that smirk.

Felix pauses his movement momentarily to look at the situation, but Minho, ever the strict teacher, orders the three of you back into position. It's been an hour of trying to come up with a choreography for a song of his choosing and you'd be worried about his disappointment in the lack of progress if you didn't have a 5 '10 problem to deal with.

Whose idea was it to attempt getting you and Hyunjin to be friends? 

You've been trying your best to focus on the instructions Minho gives but Hwang Hyunjin can be really, really annoying when he needs to be. And you're reaching the brink of your already limited patience. 

“That's it, Min. I don't know which of you two decided this was a good idea but I really hope this guy isn't in this room the next time I am. I'm not doing this anymore.” You declare and walk to get your bag when, ofcourse, Hyunjin comments.

“Oh come on,” he fakes a pout, “you're disappointing your best friends. And me.” He says, like he matters. 

“Well then,” you glare him down, done dealing with him for the rest of your life, “cry me a river and drown in it.” 

He winces and puts a hand over his heart like he's hurt, before laughing, “As you wish darling.” You're very close to snapping but you just take a few steps towards him till his back hits the wall. “Shut up, will you?” 

“Oo, how scary.” His hand reaches out but you smack it away before it does anything, your attention would be on his red ears if it wasn't on that stupid smirk.

And as you walk out you swear to yourself to wipe it off his face someday. 

When Minho and Lix brought him along and introduced him to you, he was nice, polite, quiet almost. But now it seems like he is on a personal vendetta to get on your nerves. 

His attacks go from just annoying to ignorant to personally hurtful when no one's looking. And you hate him for it. 

Felix keeps attempting to get you and his bestfriend to not be at each other's throats all the time. You can't say it's working but you've gotten more used to having a constant source of irritation around.

Is there more layers to your hatred of him than just this? Yes. Would you ever admit that? Probably not.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

The next you see of him is in your dorm, on your dinner table. Actually your trio’s table but he doesn't belong here either way. 

He lifts a hand and waves, mouthing a ‘hey there’, to which you flip him off. You reach the table and just stand beside your friends till they feel obligated to provide an explanation. Felix speaks up first, keeping his mug aside,“Hi yn!” but completely ignores your apprehension, prompts you to sit down instead, which you do with a huff. 

You don't spare him another glance but you can feel his eyes focused on you.

“Answer a question l/n.” He seems to be studying your stance for some reason. “What even is the point of you?”

You take a deep breath. You don't wanna smite him in your own kitchen. “You ask me that like your own life has any meaning.”

“So you don't have an answer?”

“Do you get off of the annoyance you cause other people?”

“Probably. You're my favorite though.” He winks and you have to use the entirety of your self control to not break his jaw.

“You done?” Minho says to Hyunjin, though it feels as if he's addressing you both.

“There’s a group dance competition in late November,” he sees both you and Hyunjin open your mouths but he cuts it off early, “it outright says groups of four or more.” 

“Then I'm out.” 

“So am I.”

“You both calm your asses right now,” Minho gives a look that promptly gets you both settled in your seats, though he ignores Lix’s giggle, “the prize money for the winners is huge.” 

“And I know you don't need the money like us,” he looks at Hyunjin, “but Hongjoong is bringing his team. I'm sure you'd like to participate.” 

Hyunjin nods his participation but Minho isn't done. “If I see whatever problem you both have with each other becoming a problem to practice..” He concludes himself with silence and you swear Hyunjin gulps as you hold eye contact with Minho, as if challenging him to finish. 

You've known him since his shy highschooler days, you're not about to be intimidated by this doe eyed example of a man.

“I think they'll manage!” Felix cheers Minho so he disrupts whatever staring contests you both are in. Conveniently dragging him out and inconveniently leaving you and Hyunjin together. This is the first time you're alone with him in a couple of months.

You get up as if he isn't sat across from you to make yourself some tea. It's almost done when he speaks. 

“So…. truce?” 

“I’m not acting friendly with you just because that rodent wants me to” you clear and set down a mug of tea on the table with some force, “don't make yourself comfortable.” 

He looks nonplussed at the cup in front of him and looks back at you.

“You were staring at Lix’s tea like a dying man. Drink it. Or don't. Whatever.” 

“Aww you do care about your arch-enemy after all!” He makes a face that makes you wanna hurt him. 

You walk out.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

“But wouldn’t that seem like piracy in dance? A dancepiracy?” Felix exclaims, in his usual manner of what-even-is-his-vocabulary when Minho has all of you gathered in a practice room on campus. 

“Lix, I'm sorry, what?” 

Hyunjin enters, a bit late as he always is, “Hi-” 

“Don't talk to me.” You cut him off and receive an eye roll before walking off to Minho and he beckons the two of them to do the same.

“Alright, let's decide a general vibe we're going for and then we'll pick a song based on that.” 

“How about a contemporary mix?” Hyunjin says, and before Minho can say something, you do.

“You're so clueless it's almost cute. You're gonna fight Ateez, with contemporary?” You scoff like it's the most ridiculous thing you've heard and he gives you an offended kindergartener look.

“Alright break it up, we'll club every idea together and then eliminate.” Minho says, already getting tired of the setting. How will he do this for a few more weeks?

Almost half an hour passes before the animated discussion about concepts, styles and which one of those could be used by potential opponents ends and you all try to decide on a song.

“But if we do Charisma we're gonna run out of energy pretty quickly and the power of the song is gonna overrule the moves.” You say and for the first time, Hyunjin agrees, so Minho has to drop it. 

“We should try k-music, how about Overdrive? The one by I.M.?” Hyunjin says and you almost pat him on the back. 

“That, Hwang, is probably the only good idea you've ever had in your life. Let's do it.” If hyunjin replies, it is tuned out by the sounds of a happy Felix. 

☆

“Hyunjin if your hand touches my face one more time I'm gonna rip it off!” Minho says, much to effect, Hyunjin shudders and his hand never reaches a foot’s radius of Minho again. He looks hilarious like that, cute even. Wait. No.

“Alright, that's probably all we can do today, I want all of you here tomorrow at 5pm. Don't be late, Hyunjin.”

“Hey, why are you pointing me out?” Hyunjin whines and you reply for Minho.

“Because you're the only dumbass who ever actually is late.” 

“You say that like your middle name is punctual.” He retorts and he looks unreasonably attractive while doing so. You hate him for that.

“And? I've hardly been late to anything dickwad.” 

“Oh well, I might be 15 minutes late to practice but I'm still better than you aren't I?” 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff. “You're about as better than me as I am better than Kirsten Dodgen.” 

“Come on, instead of making excuses, how bout you dance better ln?” He scoffs.

“How bout you shove your attitude up your ass, Hwang? Bragging doesn't make you superior.” He bends down to your face in the most condescending way ever. “Having something to brag about is what makes me superior, darling.” You're done with him.

“You'd be so much more likable if you weren't an utter bitch.” You see his gaze drop and you find yourself scoffing. If he chooses to make a conversation escalate he should deal with what's to come.

Before he can say something in return though, Minho interrupts him and drags him out. You walk out before Felix gets the chance to lecture you. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You're in your common room snacking as Minho and Lix argue over their makeup styles. 

"Lemme do your makeup please?" Felix asks for the third time, giving Minho his best puppy eyes, and he is close to cracking, but he has a little bit of dignity left, so he turns to you for help. "Only if yn says so."

"I think lixie's style would look quite pretty on you Min." You munch on a chip, Felix jumping up with a 'yes!' while Minho just looks at you, betrayed. You give him a small smile as an apology.

You are lost in thoughts of how much you adore these two, heart warming at their silly dynamic when you hear a knock on the door. 

“I'll check it.” 

Out of all the people who could have possibly been at your door for any possible reason, it has to be Hwang Hyunjin. 

“Why are you here?” He doesn't give you a direct answer, which isn’t like him, but just looks at his shoes. 

“Can I talk to Lix-”

“He's not here.” You know he is, Hyunjin knows too, but you're not very keen on letting him in. But he doesn't try to force it, he looks almost desperate when he replies. 

“Please just let me talk to him for a moment?” Hyunjin isn't usually polite to you, so you don't actively block him and step aside to let him enter.

Felix is doing Minho’s eyeshadow when he sees him, mutters out a greeting, and only senses something is off when he pays attention to Hyunjin’s face.

“What's up, hyun?” 

“I- uh this is kinda weird but, there's a spare bed in your room right? Since your dorm is for four people.” 

“Jinnie hyung what happened?” 

“Well they're doing some emergency repair work in my room starting today evening and me and Jisung need a place to live for like a few days. Hotels are expensive.” Hyunjin looks the most embarrassed you've ever seen him, you don't know why but you definitely don't want him to stay.

“Jisung already found a place and uh, it's just for a few days-”

“It's ok hyung you can stay in mine.” Felix smiles at him and tells him to go get all the stuff he'll need for those few days. 

As soon as he's out the door you start, “Felix, what the fuck? Did you just invite him to stay over?” He sighs and gives you a look. 

“Look he's my best friend, he's not that bad, besides he's gonna be in my room and I'll keep him in check I promise. It'll be fine.” 

You didn't think it'd be fine. With Hyunjin around it'd never be fine. But you can't think of any way out other than shutting yourself in your room. That works fine for a few hours, Hyunjin brings over his stuff and you can make out sounds of the three boys playing games and goofing around. But you are human. You're hungry. 

You try your best to tiptoe to the kitchen, and you get in safely, but on your way back, you slam into Hyunjin. How fun.

“Come on, yn, at least walk properly.” He brushes himself off like he just touched dirt, and something about that gesture gets to you. In a moment he's shoved against the wall and his breath is knocked out of his lungs. You have him by the collar. 

“What is your problem with me, huh?”, you interrogate, his ears are red but his face is unyielding, “why do you insist on being such an asshole to me? What have I ever done to you?” He gulps but his gaze on you doesn't falter. In another world you'd see what your hand around his neck would feel like.

“You're the one who likes acting superior, someone has to remind you you're not.” He says and some thread of resolve deep within you snaps. 

“Look Hyunjin, I don't know what deep insecurity of yours makes you hostile towards me. But I'm tired of this,” you glare, “I'm tired of you.” 

“You think you have the right to say that huh?”, he scoffs at you, “you were so nice at first why did you decide to hate me all of a sudden?” It's ridiculous how he almost looks hurt. It draws a dry laugh out of you. 

“I'm sorry but I should be the one saying that. Because you were the one who decided to be offended in secret and suddenly start sounding like my-” you almost say it, the reason his words affect you so gravely.

“Like your what?”

“Nevermind.” You let go of his collar and step back, he's not worthy of hearing about your reasons. He stays in place, staring at the ground, when you're about to walk out he speaks.

“It's because I hate you.” He says, you turn to him as he continues. “Rephrase, I hate how nothing budges you. You make me think of everything in my life that's out of my control. You're this seemingly perfect human and nothing gets to you. I wanted to see how far you could be pushed before you break. But you didn't, you never do. And honestly, you make me insecure.” His gaze is fixed on the ground but the irony of the situation gets to you. 

A laugh is drawn out of you at the prospect. “That's low, even by your standard, Hyunjin.” 

“I wanted some confirmation that you're human, that you have insecurities and fears and triggers, but you never show them.” 

“Haven't you pulled enough of my triggers already? Why’re you so hellbent on creating problems for me?”

“Because I don't wanna be less than you,” he says, and the irony makes you wanna strangle him. He mutters a curse. “I have a question. Why did you say that last year?” He asks, much to your confusion.

“Say what?” You ask, he inhales deeply and bites his lip, you're momentarily distracted despite the situation.

“That party at Seungmin’s after summer? I heard what you said.” He looks almost vulnerable but you still don't know what he's talking about so he continues.

“You were talking to someone that day, I heard my name so I was curious, you said I remind you of all the bad things in your life. That you hated me. And you'd been acting so harsh with me that week.”

“What?”, it takes you a moment to register what he's talking about, “oh. That.” 

“Forget it, it wasn't about you.” You say and he smiles at the ground, “So you do hate me.” 

“No, it's not that-”

“Then what is it?” 

“I-, it's my dad. I don't wanna talk about it in detail but you're everything he's ever wanted of me, you remind me of him and you talk the same way. That summer was when I told him I'm not taking his shit anymore. I was telling Minho about it.” Hyunjin looks stunned at the confession. 

“I don't hate you, you know? You just seem like someone too good to be a friend of mine.” He says and you laugh.

“You're so dumb Hwang Hyunjin. I don't forgive you but for the sake of our friends,” you look up at him and he's never looked so expectant, “truce?” His expression changes and you can sense the teasing coming your way.

“Did you just say that? You do like me that much huh?” You slap his arm. 

“Shut up before I change my mind.”  

“Oh, by the way, Lix is playing Moana in a few minutes, he said it's one of your faves, go sit with them, he'll like it. I'll fetch snacks like he told me to.”

You end up watching the movie with them, your snacks are attacked, you discover that Hyunjin does have a sense of humor.

The next day is smoother, you didn't expect Hyunjin to stop being a loudmouth, and he doesn't, but it's more bearable than before, it's not quite friendly yet, you both need time to work to that level after the spontaneous truce, but it's bearable.  

A group study in the library that all four of you agreed to just turned into a heated debate about literature and he may beat you in a dance competition but you'd be damned if he ever beats you in a debate. 

“I may have mistaken the quote for a Khalil Gibran one because it was similar but you quoted Oscar Wilde in a hetero scenario. Come on. You didn't even know what place Odesseus ruled or why Troy happened.” You're in disbelief.

“Ok fine. You got me. I know nothing about literature, especially Greek. Happy?” He admits defeat and you've never felt better. 

“Oh, very happy.” You're sure the grin on your face is annoying the hell out of him. 

You all get home groaning about not wanting to work to make dinner. One thing none of you expected though, is that all of you will miss the snowstorm alert and the notice of classes being canceled. 

“GUYS WE'RE FUCKED!” Felix shouts from the couch where he and Hyunjin are playing a game as you and Minho cook, everyone gathers around the boy as he reads out the alert emailed to all students. Minho groans, you sigh and Felix sits dejected. 

“Why are you all so down? It's just a snowstorm.” Hyunjin says and Felix fills him in about the deteriorated condition of the heater and the potential threat of a power cut. Also the inevitable delay that will happen to his dorm’s repair work.

The dinner is silent not just because of the news but because Felix and Minho know tomorrow is your birthday. 

Felix and Hyunjin are just done doing the dishes when the younger perks up, “I know what to do! WE'LL MAKE A  WARM PILLOW FORT IN ONE OF THE ROOMS!” 

“Lix I don't think that's a good idea.” You're not very excited to do this with Hyunjin around but Minho makes it worse.

“See that makes sense, if all of us sleep in one room it'd be warmer.” You know there's no going back from that so you assist in moving mattresses and blankets to make the nest looking thing ‘for the slumber party’ as Felix says.

Someone's (yours) laptop is propped up on a piece of furniture and a Disney movie, this time of Hyunjin's choosing, is played.

Looking at it positively, there's snacks, you're warm, everyone is having fun while there's a snowstorm outside, you have no classes for two days. It's not that bad. 

No one knows who falls asleep first, but there's no power when you wake up way too early, you wish yourself happy birthday and get up for tea when you're ambushed. Minho seats you back down as he and Felix softly sing the Happy Birthday song in the dark, Hyunjin shifts and wakes up, confused very much at the strange spectacle. 

Phone flashlights are turned on when a Felix-made box of brownies is passed to you, Minho lights a mini candle that you blow out and make a wish. 

“You'll have to wait a little longer for your gifts, though.” Minho says as he gives you a hug. 

The day starts early and the power comes back on in a few hours as the storm calms down. You're told to dress up for the gift giving and Hyunjin is made cameraman. 

Felix gives you a novel you've been wanting for a while along with a beautiful necklace and Minho gets you perfume and calligraphy pens. Hyunjin apologizes for not knowing it's your birthday but you tell him you don't mind.

You're not allowed to help when Minho dictates Felix and Hyunjin as they make some of your favorite food. The spectacle is amusing as can be, Hyunjin is absolutely clueless about cooking and looks lost while Felix runs about trying to manage his tasks as Minho is busy at the stove. The meal is one of the best you've had in a while. 

This is how you like your birthdays, homely, cozy and a little bit silly. 

You didn't expect even a birthday wish from Hyunjin so it's certainly a surprise when he finds you later in the evening and hands you a small painting of a chrysanthemum. 

“I don't know what to give you so I made a painting of your birth flower, but I know you like blue so I made it blue.” 

“I don't- I didn't know you paint so well Hyunjin, this- it's lovely, you didn't have to. Thank you so much.” He just gives you a small smile, which you return.

The flower is beautiful and you notice it's the exact shade of blue as your outfit. You'll keep the painting safe. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

There's a couple of weeks left for the competition but your team is making great progress, you're all skilled, Minho is a great mentor and you find that Hyunjin's choreography style is quite similar to yours.

Speaking of Hyunjin, you've been getting along with him better. His jokes aren't as much attacks as they are annoying, he's dramatic and he's stupid but he's also quite thoughtful. Maybe he isn't all that bad.

Hyunjin makes a very unfunny joke and you lightly punch him in the ribs, looking up to find Minho giving you a suspicious look. “What?” He doesn't reply.

When you're all packing up to leave practice when Hyunjin speaks.

“I think we're friends now.” His tone is of false disbelief, he almost looks cute with that exasperated expression.

“God don't say that. I still wanna kill you every time I see you.” You say, but you're laughing. 

You wanna kill him, but you also kind of wanna kiss him. 

Wait. No. 

He's invited over to the dorm today despite his dorm having been fixed long ago. He's bringing Jisung with him, Felix and Jisung are already friends and Minho has taken a unique liking to the boy. 

The offer is of studying together and then later hanging with snacks to find an excuse to ditch a party none of you wanna go to. 

“I call dibs on the big chair!” Jisung yells and Felix claims the next best spot in his own room. Hyunjin settles on the floor because you claim Lix's bed before him and Minho claims another place. 

You throw a folded blanket at him, “Cushion your ass Hwang,” you smirk, “if you have any that is.” Jisung snorts in the corner. “Don't insult the man’s cake like that, yn!” 

A few hours pass with Jisung and Felix chatting between their work and Minho giving them endearing looks, you and Hyunjin just work but you can't help but notice how his eyes flicker to you every other minute. 

You find yourself staring at his lips as his tongue reaches out to wet them, you involuntary mimic his action. He's beautiful, undeniably, but he looks so soft in his pastel blue sweater that you almost forget you used to hate him. You wonder what his hugs feel like.

Wait. No. No, you don't. 

You run to your room to fetch your strawberry lipbalm. 

“Hyunjin put your laptop down for a sec,” he throws you a questioning glance but complies, the other three are too busy to notice what you're doing, the pad of your ring finger swipes the tinted product across his slightly chapped lips, “There.” 

You don't realize what you've until he gulps, “Shit, I'm sorry, I should've asked-”

“Thanks.” He looks a little red and you figure it's the embarrassment of it all. 

☆

You run across Hyunjin again, as he's returning from the kitchen and you're heading there, you walk towards him, not knowing what you're gonna say when the glossy red tint on his lips is so, so enticing. He doesn't protest when your hand is on his face, examining it. 

“The shade suits you.” His breath is uneven and he gulps, you notice his eyes darting down to the same shade on your lips. You don't know why you do it, or how you'll explain it. 

But you kiss him, his lips are every bit as soft as you imagined them to be everytime he bit them. You think you've fucked everything up until he kisses back uncertainly.

You part and your eyes drop down, so does the hand that was previously on his face.  

“I-”, you curse your words for failing you at that moment and the thousand jumbled thoughts in your head that make it difficult to think.

“This never happened.” You say, finally, as you step back. 

“Consider it forgotten.” He confirms. 

Him and Jisung leave after almost an hour, you won't be able to sleep today.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆ 

You said ‘this never happened’, you don't have any explanation of why it proceeded to happen many times afterwards. You would talk about it if only you understood what you're feeling, but you don't. And it's not messing anything up and none of you is ready to give the other an explanation.

There's two days left in the competition, and the preparation is finally done. All of you are satisfied with the final choreography and the decided outfits. Maybe you're a tad bit too interested in the pictures Hyunjin shows of him in his outfit.

Minho insisted for a last run with counts before the hour ended. You look at Hyunjin’s form as he dances, he has complete control over what beats he does and doesn't hit, he looks the best here, you think, in his element. Besides there's certain thoughts you have about his tank top and sweaty body, thoughts that you don't wanna acknowledge. The song ends and Hyunjin stops moving, much to your disappointment.

You look straight at him as you play 'Industry baby' and raise an eyebrow at him in challenge. “You first.” He accepts. The things you do to get Hwang Hyunjin dancing again. 

Minho and Felix both cheer on as the dance battle continues. You beat Yunho on this song and both of them know it. You see Hyunjin's eyes widen when you hit a beat in the chorus with your entire body. He whistles and you take that as an ego boost. The battle was in your favor. 

“Admit I'm better than you,” you say to him, he laughs in response, but not in the mocking way you're familiar with.

“It'd be a cold day in whatever hell you came from before I do that.” He raises a brow at you though he's smiling.

“Gotta tell my dad to turn the AC down.” You deadpan and the three boys snort. 

“Are your trauma jokes always necessary?” 

“No but they're funny so..” 

☆

You're at Hyunjin and Han’s dorm after practice and for a godforsaken reason, Minho and Felix are both somewhere else while you sit awkwardly in Hyunjin's desk chair with your drink. He's still in the shower, you were all previously in this room but the three decided to leave you alone with Hyunjin. They're doing that a lot these days. Hyunjin's blow dryer is loud. 

He steps out and you almost choke on your boba. He's shirtless. You look in the opposite direction as fast as you can.

“Don't worry, darling, you can look. I know I'm irresistible.” 

“Shut up before I throw my boba at you.” but you look anyway, he somehow looks better than what you'd imagined was under his tank top. 

This time you let your eyes trail over him, from collarbones to the slightly visible v-line above his sweatpants, just to see who looks away first. He feels your vision on him like it's cold winter air, but doesn't look away. 

You take that as a challenge, you put your drink away and walk to him. He doesn't look away. Your hand finds his waist, he inhales sharply and you pull him to you. Your other hand finds his nape when there's barely any distance left between you. He still doesn't give up. 

“It’s almost like you want me to do something,” you let your eyes run shamelessly across his skin, “tell me to stop.” He doesn't, so you kiss him. And he kisses back, this time with certainty. You let the feeling soak into you for a moment. It's him who takes it further, and you retaliate, you bite his lower lip right when you give his hair a little tug and he gasps into your mouth, his hands roam your body and you let them.  

You push him back until his knees hit his bed and he lets himself fall, his hands find your waist again as soon as you're straddling him, this time your hand is on his neck instead of his hair, you let him kiss you once more before your lips are attached to his jawline, then down to his collarbone, your teeth nip at his skin and your hand presses at the sides of his neck experimentally, his arms tighten around you and he moans. You peel yourself away from him to look at his face, the redness from his face has bled down his neck to half his chest. Cute.

“You're.. extremely red.” You say.

“Shut up.” 

“Like.. cherry red.” You tease.

“Go to hell.” You laugh but gasp when he pulls you down to lay over him and engulfs you in a sort of bear hug. It feels surprisingly nice. 

“I can't go back home right now but your company is a better substitute for hell don't you think?” He pushes you off of him at that. 

“Hey I was kidding-” 

There's a knock on the door and Hyunjin runs for his shirt and you run to fix your hair and grab your drink.

“What’re you guys doing in there with the door closed?” It's Han. You'd strangle him if he wasn't Minho's favorite.  

“Mind your own Jisung, I just got out of the shower!” Hyunjin yells, “And y'all were the ones who left me alone here what the fuck Han?” You add. 

There's things one only notices when they're very, very close to someone. Hyunjin has a faint mole under his left eye.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

It's competition day and you have a problem. In the heat of the moment, you'd forgotten how low cut his stage outfit was. Now you're trying not to look as Jisung and Felix interrogate Hyunjin about where he got the hickeys from. He doesn't give anything away, thankfully, you're not ready to explain something you're not even sure about, but Minho has been awfully quiet and you think he's suspecting something. 

All thoughts leave your head as you hear the host of the evening start introducing the event, the order of performances is announced and Ateez is called on first, everyone expects them to win. There's a few more teams before you and your team is close to the last, you count a few possible opponents who are good competition, like the Soobin and Yeji’s teams, you know most of the participants from Uni. 

Watching others perform, you can feel the familiar pre performance adrenaline taking over. You love it. This rush is part of the reason you do dance competitively. 

Hyunjin comes up to you and gives your hand a little squeeze, “let's kill this yeah?” “Oh we absolutely will.” 

And you do. The cheers get louder as the performance progresses and choosing a song this heavy on beats may have cost all of you your lungs during practice, but you move like you know each other's bodies and Ateez doesn't look so smug anymore. The hyped crowd is all so worth it. 

As Felix predicted, the bridge is the part which gets the loudest cheers.

There's only two performances after yours and the results come in soon after. The host thanks the sponsors and announces the positions bottom to top. Yeji’s teams is runner up.

Soobin’s team is third. The boys hug each other before they run to collect their prize, their friends cheer for them. But your heart starts beating violently soon afterwards, you're standing behind MinLix, so Hyunjin takes your hand, he's jittery so you let him.

Ateez, Hongjoong’s team, is second. You heave a sigh of relief and Hyunjin relaxes, though he doesn't let go of your hand. Ateez boys look upset and you suppress the urge to smile. 

Your team is announced first place and the four of you jump in joy and you hear Jisung screaming from the audience. 

☆

You're all dizzy with laughter when Jisung excuses himself to go to the bathroom and MinLix leave to find a friend. Why do they keep doing that? 

Ateez takes this as an appropriate time to approach you two, though they don't even acknowledge your presence. Yunho keeps looking the opposite way, he always does that around you since he was beaten in the dance battle.

“You won't always keep winning Hwang.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes at him but looks uncomfortable, you identify this boy as Wooyoung. A more slender boy? person? human? approaches next with shocked eyes. 

“Is that a hickey, Jinnie?” Though he uses a nickname, it's clear that he means nothing good when he pokes Hyunjin's collarbone with his finger. Hyunjin mumbles a ‘shut up’ but they ignore him. Hyunjin looks like he'd rather be anywhere than here. The next one to say something is Hongjoong, you've seen him around. He's no good.

“Looks like the pretty boy has finally found himself a girlfriend. Or did you find a sugar daddy, Hyunjin? Where'd you get the hickey from?” The whole group snickers behind him and Hyunjin is clenching his jaw. He looks angry and you decide to do something.

“Well he got it from me. You got a problem with that?” You raise a brow at the man, he's barely taller than you.

“Oh come on, l/n. Everyone knows you hate him. Why defend him just because he's on your team?” You take a step further, and look directly at him. 

“Are you calling me a liar, Kim Hongjoong?” He smirks back at you and you never thought any smirk except Hyunjin's could ever make you this angry, but you wanna punch him in the face right here. 

“No, l/n. I'm just saying that's a little difficult to believe considering you were at each other's throats not long ago. If you want us to believe, why don't you give us some proof, eh?” He sneers, clearly expecting you to falter and deny the whole thing.

You laugh at his face, “You want proof huh? Well, how about this?” You turn and kiss Hyunjin, with your arms around his shoulders and his around your torso. Deep enough to make them uncomfortable.

“Alright we get the point. Enough. You're in public, l/n.” When you part, Hyunjin smiles at them in a way you know will piss them off. Because it did the same to you not long ago.

“Well you're the one who wanted proof Kim. Now fuck right off. If I see you bothering my arch enemy again, you won't be allowed into the art history class anymore. Mark my words.” 

You drag Hyunjin to a quiet corner, away from the crowd and shoot a text to the other boys telling them to meet you both at Hyunjin's dorm. 

You check up on the boy and he looks miserable. “Hey. You fine? I'm sorry I should have let you deal with it without interfering.” You apologize but he shakes his head.

“No, that was really funny, I'm sure it pissed them off, just- I'm sorry you had to witness that.” He looks dejected and you can't find it even in the cruelest parts of you to not help him.

“Hey. Listen. I don't care what they think of themselves but they don't deserve to make you feel bad about anything. And I don't think any less of you because they decide to be assholes, if anything I respect you more now.” He gives you a small nod and a smile, this time, an actual, genuine smile.

“Would mind if I just..” he wraps his arms around you and his head comes to rest on your shoulder, “stay like this for a bit?” You hug him back and nothing needs to be said for a while. Hyunjin's hugs do feel nice.

When you bring him back to his dorm, the joke on the tip of Jisung’s tongue doesn't get the chance to escape. He looks concerned for Hyunjin, that's the first time you've seen the boy serious. They exchange glances and it's like he just knows what happened. 

The evening is a quiet sort of celebratory, and you find yourself trying to avoid Hyunjin as much as possible. How are you going to explain anything you're feeling to him when you can't even explain it to yourself? Minho and Jisung make everyone ramen and a sleepover ensues. You're all in Jisung’s room, him and Minho in the same bed, you, Felix and Hyunjin on the floor. Why Hyunjin's not in his own bed is weird to you. Maybe sleepover spirit.

When you wake up to get water you find Hyunjin isn't in his place anymore. He isn't in the kitchen either. You're avoiding him but you don't wanna be the prime suspect if he's found dead. 

You roam around and find him his room, sketching in the faint light of his night light like the lunatic he is, you smack the back of his head, you forgot how dramatic he can be, and you have to cover his mouth so he doesn't scream. “Shut up, you idiot. It's me,” he licks your hand, “eww. Filthy.” You wipe the hand on his shoulder.

“You literally made out with me in public, how's that filthy?” You notice what he's wearing, a white shirt, with the first two buttons undone. You smack him again.

“You idiotic dunce! Do you wanna catch a fucking cold it's literally late November!” He winces and reaches for the sweater beside him, you try to see what he's sketching but he hides it with almost superhuman speed. “Chill Hyunjin, I don't wanna spy on you.” 

“Why are you awake?” He asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.” 

“Samesies. Though unlike you, I don't voluntarily ruin my eyesight when I wake up a bit too early.” You gesture to the lack of light and he sighs.

“What do you do then?” The question catches you off-guard, it sounds genuine and for some reason you answer it genuinely.

“I write poems. In light.”

“Poems about what?” 

“That's none of your business.” Your voice suddenly sounds cold and you curse yourself for turning out so hostile with your reply. 

“Sorry. I won't intrude-”

“No. I- I don't like sharing it. I don't like sharing at all actually.”

“I get that. There's parts of me I don't like sharing either. Don't feel bad about it.”

“Why didn't I ever notice how thoughtful you are?” 

“Maybe cuz you never tried to.” He presses his lips together and you suddenly feel bad about yourself. 

“Hey,” he says, “I wanna say sorry. I know how much of an asshole I've been to you. It doesn't deserve much forgiveness but it's bothering me a lot. So I say it again: I'm sorry for everything I've said and done.”

You search your brain for any reasons to not forgive him. But with the way he's been the last month, you don't find any. “I forgive you.” You say, and it's like some invisible tension is released from his body. He smiles at you. “Thank you.” 

“Hyunjin?” 

“Yes?” 

“Let's get to know each other more.”

“How?” 

“I'll ask a question, we both answer it, then you ask one.” He nods, so you ask.

“What's something you'd do if money wasn't a factor? I'd be a philosopher or a writer.” 

“I'd be an artist or a dancer maybe. If you could live in one fictional universe, which one would it be? I'd love to be in the Harry Potter universe but the author’s racist.” 

“I think I'd like to live in either Dan Brown's or Rick Riordan’s books.” 

“What's something you wish more people in the world understood?”

That night you feel closer to him than you've ever been. You discover Hyunjin is an incredibly sentimental person, he also is a romantic, he's an only child, his parents are divorced, he has a dog back at home. So many things you never knew about him. He's flawed, you're flawed, but he’s not a bad human being. You hope you aren't one either. 

Ofcourse him being a thoughtful person doesn't rule out the annoying ass he is.

You both don't go to sleep again, you chat while he continues his drawing and you scroll through your notes app editing your writings. You find yourself enjoying his company. Two months ago, if someone told you you'd find peace around him, you would have laughed. 

☆

The five of you seem to stay together almost all the time now that Jisung is also a part of the group. The text comes when you're all out eating a few days later. Minho is offended when you forget to answer his question in favor of staring at your phone. When he sees your expression is when he realizes something's off. 

“What's wrong?” He says, and everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“He wants to meet me. Tomorrow. He's coming here.” Minho doesn't need another word to understand what you're talking about, but the rest of the boys stay confused. Yet no one questions why you excuse yourself in the middle of the meal to go back home. 

Minho doesn't disturb you when you lock yourself in the room you both share, choosing to sleep in Felix’s room instead. He knows you'll need to deal with your father alone. Even if the man refuses to let you be when you've practically abandoned him. 

The next day you leave the house after they're both gone for their last classes. You don't expect the meeting with your father to be anything good, but you know that he'll hunt you down to your dorm or lectures if you don't go where he wants you.  

He never is genuinely happy to see you, you learnt to tell his expressions apart when you were 8, and his smile right now is definitely a fake. He orders a coffee for himself and you politely deny his offer to get you one as well.

He says the same thing he does every time you meet him, trying to convince you of God knows what. You're tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“Don't do this to me. You're my child.”

“I’m not just your child, I'm a person. You've done enough damage. Stay away from me.” 

“But how can you leave me alone? I'm getting older and I have no one to rely on-” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“I'm sorry! Ok? But you don't respect me, can't I even want respect and company from my child?” The statement makes you wanna punch him but you just laugh. 

“Don't start talking about respect. Respect is earned, and you did nothing to earn it. And if you couldn't give me the love and support you should have given your child, at least give me the privacy and independence every human deserves.” 

“But-”

“I told you that day. I don't know you anymore. It'd be wise of you to stay away from me if you don't want the police called on you.” 

He tries to say more but you just walk out of the cafe and back to your dorm. You know he won't follow you. He's too egoistic for that. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Minho hasn't slept in his own bed for two days, and you haven't seen sunlight in quite a while. The stream of texts your father sent you after your meeting, accusing you of being an ungrateful offspring and a useless human were much more depressing than the real conversation, the one you didn't allow to happen. Finally blocking him felt good nonetheless. You're tired of the responsibility of interacting with him.

You get out of bed and your entire body feels stiff, and your eyes are glitching. Maybe keeping the blinds down for two whole days wasn't a good idea. And you smell. But you still can't find the willpower to shower. 

There's a knock on your door. Minho.

“Yn? You there? I need something from my closet.” You open the door for him and his demeanor softens at your state. He knows you since highschool, he's the only one who knows what's going on and the extent to which it matters.

“Hey. Why don't you go shower, hm? The boys are all outside, they're concerned cuz they haven't seen you for some time but I'll tell them not to worry, ok?” You probably should shower. You nod at him and step out to go to the bathroom. 

Your body feels a lot better afterwards, but the world still sort of feels colorless, you decide to go get some food other than the snacks you lived on for two days. Maybe some actual food will make you feel better. There's a sticky note from Minho addressed to you on the microwave.

‘your meal inside :) finish it all’ 

You smile. He never stops taking care of all of you, that's how he shows you love.

The meal makes you feel a little alive, but the color in your world is still absent.

The boys ask you if you're ok on you way back to your room, you give them a small smile and true to Minho's words, none of them tries to dig you for information. You do notice the unexpected concern on Hyunjin's face. Weird.

Maybe you should go to your classes tomorrow.

☆

The crowd of the noon classes will never be something you like, but at least your first class is something you like and share with Hyunjin and Felix. You zone out somewhere in the middle of the lecture and your brain, your actual enemy, decides to give you thoughts about your upbringing. No matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your mind gets stuck on how unfair your father always was to you. How he deserves to die alone. How you don't feel sorry for saying that. Your lungs have been restricted since that day, but it's becoming more difficult for you to breathe every minute. You need to get out of here. You really need to get out of the crowd before you start hyperventilating.

Hyunjin saw you hurriedly ask the professor to excuse you, he asked the professor to let him go after you, and seeing how you looked, the professor let him. 

You haven't had a meltdown in a long time and your lungs burn as your breathing becomes labored, you find a quiet corridor to hide from the footsteps behind you. 

Your legs go weak and the weight of the ceiling doubles and presses down on your head. You drop to your knees. 

“Yn!” His hand is on your shoulder and you swat it away before you can even comprehend it. Things are too fast, way too fast for your brain to help. 

“Get away!” You can't have him here right now, not when you're vulnerable and he has the power to rip you apart. Your brain doesn't trust him with this.

“Let me help-” 

“I don't need help! Es- Especially from you.” You never see the hurt that flashes in his eyes because something that feels like a strong blow to your chest knocks the air out of your lungs. You clutch your top, even the fabric feeling like a restriction on breathing. 

You hear him mumble a ‘fuck it'  before he knnels down beside you and you're pressed to his chest in a protective hug. Your mental barrier collapses. 

Tears escape you like a dam overflowing, your brain not functional enough to form a coherent sentence. Years of bottled up hurt, the emotionally overwhelming events of the last few days and the unpleasant reminders of everything you lack flow out in ugly sobs as Hyunjin runs a comforting hand across your back. No questions asked. You surprise yourself with how broken your crying sounds.

Your breathing is choked and painful, quite like your life in your childhood home. But there was no one to help you calm down there, no one telling you ‘its okay, you're safe, try to follow my breathing hm?’

You follow his instructions the best you can, calming down enough for some air to flow into your lungs. He makes you drink water and runs to the lecture hall to fetch both of your backpacks. He takes you back to your dorm and gets you a snack without asking a single question. He deems your own room too depressing for you to stay in so he brings you to the kitchen. He observes you carefully until he's sure you're fine.

“I know you don't trust me to help you,” he sighs and regret washes over you like a wave, “forget about the rest of your classes today, get some rest. I'll go back now-” He reaches for his backpack when you speak up. 

“Hyunjin- wait.” He says nothing, but just looks at you, wanting you to continue. 

“Stay,” you say, your eyes still burn from the crying and you don't want to feel alone anymore, “please.” 

He sighs and sets the backpack down. 

“I don't want you to tell me everything, but I can't help if I have no idea what's wrong.” 

He lets you reach out to hug him, you ignore all the confusing feelings in the back of your head. 

“I'm sorry. Even talking about it reminds me of the details. And that usually ends up worse than what happened a few minutes ago.” 

“Mhm.” His hand pats down your messed up hair and you don't remember a touch ever being this comforting.

“It's my dad. I met him a couple days ago, he tried to get me to stay around because apparently he doesn't wanna die alone. But I refused and walked out. He resorted to his old behavior and flooded my texts with all the things he always keeps saying about me. About how I'm useless, no good at anything I do, disrespectful and not worthy of any love and things like that. It got to me more than it should have, but hey, I finally blocked him.”

“I'm proud of you for doing that. And let me tell you something. You're incredibly good at everything you do. You're so smart, and such a good dancer. I was so jealous of you when I first met you.” He says, and you believe him despite your brain saying he's lying to you. 

“Your friends all love you so much. Would you really let a man with no company tell you whether you deserve love or not?”

“But I haven't earned it. I've done nothing to deserve that love.” He makes a disbelieving sound at the statement.

“Love isn't something you have to earn, it's something that is given out of will. And if someone gives you their love without you asking for it. Then you certainly deserve it. Whoever tries to tell you otherwise is lying to you, ok? It took me a while to understand this but trust me. It's the truth.” You nod into his shoulder before you break the hug to look at him. 

“Since when do you care about me, huh?” You joke, not even expecting an answer but he gives you one. 

“Since when? I don't know. All I know is I care about you a lot. I don't like seeing you hurt. Which, again, makes me feel guilty as fuck for acting like I did to you. I don't know why I was so selfis-” 

“Shh, it's in the past now, we're even. I don't mind having you around now.” 

“Is that you being soft for me darling?” There goes his teasing, this warrants the punch in the rib you give him. He grunts in response but laughs anyway. 

“Would you find it funny if I ask you for cuddles right now?” You say, and he looks surprised, but happy nonetheless. 

“I'd find it adorable.” You drag him to your bed. 

“We need to make your room look less depressing after this okay?” He says and you nod before you let yourself fall on top of him, getting an ‘oof’ in reply before he arms come up to hold you. 

You feel puzzled about this whole situation with him and matter how much you like it, you need to clarify it. 

“Hey, Hyunjin?” He hums.

“This, whatever it is, do you want it? Should we like, talk about it?” He doesn't get angry like you expected him to, but replies calmly. 

“I like whatever it is. If you wanna talk about it, we should. I'm not sure I even have a name for it though.”

“I don't have one either. I don't really understand feelings. But I don't want this to stop. Do you?” 

“No. No I don't.”

“Minho knows something's up with us.” 

“I know, I've seen him looking at us suspiciously, though I don't think he hates it though.”

“He's my insurance. Just know he'll murder if you decide to become a bitch to me again.” 

“I won't. Promise.”

☆

You're both up before the other occupants of your dorm come back with Jisung inevitably tagging along. When Minho comes back the first thing he does is check up on you. You tell him about the little breakdown and Hyunjin helping you. He stares at Hyunjin for a good minute as if gauging him for signs of danger but then shrugs and thanks him.

You explain your complicated relationship with your father in minimal detail to the other two boys just so they don't worry too much in uncertainty. It is decided that everyone will go out together to eat and celebrate the upcoming winter break. 

You don't go home for winter break, but Felix and Minho do, so does Jisung, so it's just you and Hyunjin together for Christmas. You don't hate the prospect. 

Two days after the three boys are gone you two decide it's better staying in one place than continuously having to meet each other to prepare for the celebration. You don't hate this either. 

Hyunjin is fun to be around, he's hilarious on top of being beautiful, you're almost sure you have feelings for him, feelings of what sort and how deep, that you don't know. Maybe you'll add one more poem about it to the collection that has been growing everyday. 

You learn he's much more affectionate than you thought he'd be, he's almost always close to you. He isn't clingy per se, but he's always close. Like right now. 

You're trying one of Minho’s recipes and he has got you convinced there's flour on your face, though you're sure you've added more flour to your face in your attempts to remove the original bit because he's laughing like you're a clown. 

“Hyunjin if you're not helping I'm going to the bathroom to wash it off-”

“Wait.” He cups your face and swipes his thumb at your jaw to get the first bit off, he's closer than he needs to be, though you don't think you care. The second bit of flour is on your forehead apparently, that's where his hand is even though his eyes are on your lips. You're almost certain he wants to kiss you. So you do the next reasonable thing. 

Put flour on his nose and run. 

“Hey! Not fair!” He tries to catch you but fails, and like you're toddlers, a game of chase starts.

“Come back here!” He laughs and you return it. 

“Nope. Not coming back there.” You run up to Lix's room.

“Alright have it your way.” He grabs a pillow and before you can tell him no, you're in the middle of a pillow fight. He tries to hit you on the head but misses, and your pillow lands square in his face. He recovers soon after though, and somehow manages to snatch away your pillow and pin you down on the bed.

You're both dizzy with laughter. “All I wanted was a kiss! The betrayal! I want payback!” He complains like the dramatic toddler he is. “Well deal with it Hwang. You're not getting any kisses on Lix’s bed, have some shame.” You push him off in a moment of weakness and take off again.

“NOT AGAIN!”

“The stuff in the oven will burn dumbass!” 

The dinner is made and eaten without incident, thankfully. You make Hyunjin sleep in Felix's room, being pretty doesn't give him an automatic ticket to yours, you like occupying all the space by yourself.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You're cold. Too cold. It's almost as if the coldness has seeped into your bones. With every moment the pressure on your body increases, you feel like you're drowning, when your eyes open all you see is a distorted sheet of blue. You are drowning. Your body is slowly sinking deeper. The pressure is pressing down on your brain and your ribs, you call for help but your words aren't heard, not even by you. You scream but no sound escapes your watery prison, you strain your throat with how hard you're trying to make a sound, to scream for help- 

You wake hyperventilating, like you always do from this same nightmare. It takes you a good minute to catch your breath. 

The next thing you do is calculate how much self respect you can sacrifice from your dwindling resources to fall asleep again. Because you certainly won't be able to sleep alone for the rest of the night. 

His door’s open. Maybe disturbing him a little wouldn't hurt? Well that would be the case if he were sleeping. 

“Are you fucking nocturnal?” You say, and you watch him jump and the phone fall from his hand.

“God who even lurks in the dark like that? How do you not make a sound? Are you a vampire?” 

“I dunno. Instincts. Not a vampire though, sadly. Why’re you up?”

“Can't sleep. You?”

“Stupid dream.” You seat yourself beside him. You both seem to have something against sleeping properly.

“Wanna talk about it?” He's put his phone down, you notice. 

“Only if you tell me why you never sleep.” He contemplates for a moment then shrugs. 

“No details but nights never meant good things for me growing up. I'm a light sleeper and on the bad days even footsteps wake me up. Sometimes I can't sleep at all.” He shrugs.

“I can sleep most nights, but I have this recurring dream where I'm drowning for some reason. I can't sleep after waking up from that one. Why are nights bad for you? Memories?” 

“Yeah. I don't like talking about it.” 

“You wanna try going back to sleep or you wanna do something else?” You ask.

“I’d go back to sleep but it seems impossible now.” You don't remember ever relating to him as much as you do right now.

“C'mere.” You gesture to the space beside you, to your surprise he doesn't protest. “Talk to me about anything until it's morning or one of us starts feeling sleepy.” And he does. Your discussion goes from fiction to emotions to the way people behave and then back to anime then to art to poetry and then what not. But when you wake up, there's so much light in the room that you're almost sure it's noon. And you can't move. 

“Hyunjin. Wake up.” He doesn't. “Hyunjin! You stupid ferret, get off me.” He budges a little at that. So much for claiming to be a light sleeper huh? You need to push him off of you before you can get up and check the time. 

11:40 am. Wow. That's a solid 7 hours of sleep. 

You get up to clean up and find something to eat. By the time you shower and dig into your bowl of cereal, Hyunjin finds his way to the kitchen with a puffy face. Adorable. 

“Good Morning, ferret. Sleep well?” You joke. 

“Very well actually, why're you eating cereal…. sitting on the table?” 

“I dunno,” you shrug, “seemed fun.”

You're never witnessed an actually groggy Hyunjin before this and it's hilarious. He's dazed and almost hit his head on the counter. Thrice. It's almost surprising that he manages to get himself water without breaking anything.

“You left me alone.” He complains when you're done washing your cereal bowl. 

“Well I'm sorry but I had to. I was hungry.” 

“No fair.” In a few seconds you discover handling the weight of a tall guy is quite a task. Is it a hug or are you being crushed to death? You're not sure. “Ok I'm sorry let me breathe please!” 

You can finally breathe when he lets go of you, “Now go shower. Your breath’s nasty.” He doesn't reply but just messes up your hair before running off. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You should have known. Maybe you can't let good things happen to yourself without attempting to destroy them.

“You're not the brightest outside class, are you Hwang?” You're watching him struggle with figuring out what spice is what. 

“You only say that cuz you're jealous of my class smarts.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Oh please, you were behind me by a whole grade in two classes last semester.”

“That wasn't my 100%, I had stuff to deal with.” 

“All excuses, aren't they?” 

“Everything is a competition for you isn't it?” He sounds disappointed but you're not the bigger person.

“Isn't it for you too?” 

“No it isn't. Forgive me for not wanting to compete for everything in my life.” 

“Why? Scared?” The conversation escalates before you realize it and you blame your tendency to argue with him.

“Why are you so obsessed with being the best?” He's no longer calm.

“You tell me. You were the one mocking me for always being second for a whole damn year!”

“Oh come on, there's more to it! Why are you so fragile about it?” 

“You and your taunts are all there is to it and I'm reacting like anyone would. Why were you so insistent on beating me in everything?” 

“Oh, come on! There's definitely stuff you're not saying, why can't you open up to me?” 

“I don't want to say anything. Why the fuck do you even want me to open up to you?” 

“Because I want to fix this!” 

“And why does fixing it matter?” 

“Because I like you god damn it! Are you that dumb?” 

“Bullshit. You suddenly like me after a whole year of hating me huh?” 

“Why else do you think I'm doing this? Why else would I agree to this?” 

“Maybe cuz it'd make for a very funny scenario don't you think? ‘Hey look at them developing feelings for me just because we stopped trying to kill each other’ sounds hilarious doesn't it?” You don't even know where all this is coming from but you never completely ruled out the prospect of all this being an act on his side. 

He didn't think so, that much is visible on his face when you finally find the guts to look at him. Fuck. You just can't stop hurting people in your life huh? 

“I'm sorry.” You apologize before you turn to leave, but he doesn't let you. Instead of being angry like you thought he'd be, he just pulls you into a hug. The gesture does something to you that you can't quite figure out. 

“Let go of me.” You don't want him to, but you can't find the courage to face this. You're too weak.

“No. I'm not letting you go anywhere.” 

“I don't deserve this Hyunjin. Staying for me will get you nowhere. You're stupid if you-”

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” 

“You… what?” That's not a confession one would expect out of him. But you can't say you didn't do the same.

“You heard me. And I'm not letting you leave without even trying.” You've never heard so much emotion in his voice, even in the few months that you both spent together, you're sure his eyes would be glossy if you look at him now. So you don't.

“But-”

“We need to sort this out, yeah? You can't keep running from everything.” 

Your tears always choose the worst time to appear. 

“I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't-, I'm not…… used to feeling this way ok?” 

“I know. And that's fine. I never expected this to be easy. It's okay.”

“I'm sorry I- I want to trust you. I want to. But it's so difficult..” 

“I don't blame you. We both barely know about the things that we had to deal with. Trust doesn't happen without communication does it? That's why we need to talk to each other. About everything. Even the stuff we don't like sharing. Nothing will work without that, right?” 

It feels like he knows how to take your jumbled up mess of thoughts and feelings and make sense of it in ways you don't even understand. So you talk, about everything you don't like sharing, about your fears and their origins, about the troubles you have with trusting people, about the insecurities you relate to your image, about the pressure you keep putting on yourself to be the best there is and why you do so. 

And he does too, about the way he feels out of control of everything and why that happens, how it feels like an obligation to put his own feelings aside and live by the reputation expected of him, about why loud footsteps or just loud sounds scare him, why yelling brings back bad memories, how he feels like he's carrying a heavy weight from his past along with him wherever he goes, how his coping mechanisms have caused both of you damage. 

And by the end of the conversation it doesn't feel so difficult to trust him anymore. He wouldn't hurt you, not on purpose at least. If he does, well, maybe you want to take the chance. For the sake of it. Maybe you don't hate the feeling of vulnerability. 

“If I fuck this up,” you look at him as you speak, “promise me you'll leave.” 

“You won't. I know.” 

“I hope you're right. I'm sorry for being so stupid.” 

“If we want this to work the first thing you'll have to do is stop apologizing for everything.” It's almost like you're a toddler being scolded. 

“I'm sorr-”

“Not again.” 

“Shit my bad-”

“Hey!”

“Okay! I get it! No saying sorry for everything.” 

“Good.” 

You like his hugs. They're warm. But you also like chaos. So you pinch his waist, the boy is dramatic, of course he jumps and looks at you with the most disbelieving wide eyes.

“What was that for?” 

“That was for being stupidly pretty.”

“So we're doing compliments now, darling?” He's never gonna stop doing this is he?

“If you use the tease voice I'll pinch you harder I swear.”

“Not sure I'd mind,” before he can finish the sentence though, you have him trapped between your arms and the dinner table, he seems quite happy with it, “you seem to like me quite a lot, don't you darling?” 

“And? What if I do?” 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Your roommates expected to find stuff when they returned from their homes, but stuff definitely didn't include you and Hyunjin arguing over who gets the last piece of cake. The fight seemed…. unserious.

They definitely didn't expect it to end in you and him sharing the last bit. You and Hyunjin. Sharing. Unheard of.

The real surprise came when they were done unpacking. You caught Felix in his room. 

“Hey Lix, guess what?” Poor sweet soul of his, already interested in what you have to say.

“What?”

“I'm dating someone.”

“WHAT? Who?!” 

“Try guessing.” He looks confused but attempts nonetheless.

“Soyeon?” 

“Look I mentioned her being hot one time. That don't mean I'm dating her.” 

“Then who?” 

“Who did I spend winter with?” He gives you a look that says ‘bitch tf’.

“Oh come on. I may be a little clueless but there's no fucking way you're dating Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah? Why don't you go ask him? He's explaining the same thing to Minho right now.” 

You find them in the kitchen, and as you expected, Minho looks like it's a normal day for him. No surprise at all. 

Felix however, is quite close to losing it. 

“Hyunjin. Tell me they're making a fool of me.” He says, but Hyunjin stays silent and you fear Felix is actually on the brink of insanity. 

“What the fuck.” It's almost a whisper when he says it. Both you and Hyunjin cannot hold back your laughter. Their reaction was exactly what you predicted.

Minho is the one who speaks up next.

“Come on, Lix. These two weren’t even that subtle. Where'd you think Hyunjin got that hickey from? Just a few weeks after these two stopped fighting? Why do you think I insisted on leaving them alone together?” 

You knew it was his plan. How else would you end up alone with Hyunjin at the most convenient times ever?

“Lee Minho you little fucker, you better sleep with one eye open.” You joke.

“Look at how ungrateful you are. I helped you and you give me death threats? Betrayal,” he's smiling at you, when he turns to Hyunjin however, he looks murderous, “if I hear you hurt my best friend in any way, the world will run out of places for you to hide in. Trust me on that.” 

“Enough Min, you'll scare away my boyfriend.” 

Boyfriend huh? That felt nice to say. 

“Now who's gonna tell Jisung?” 

“Let's all just head to his dorm. Help the boy with unpacking too.” 

“You seem keen on meeting him, Min. What's the matter?” The question only gets you elbowed in the rib.

Jisung's reaction is as loud as you anticipated but he doesn't seem too surprised, you ask him why.

“Oh Hyunjin always rants about things, I'm his roommate, I figured something was up with you.” 

Later, when you have your boyfriend to yourself, you decide to ask him about it.

“So, about what Jisung said”

“Don't believe him, I beg you.”

“Save the begging for other things, I'd say it's pretty plausible, considering you rant about a lot.”

“I do NOT monologue about my crushes, case closed.” Hyunjin really needs to control his fidgeting if he wants to get away with lying. 

You cup his face, “Why are you denying it? It's adorable.” 

“Not funny?”

“Maybe a little funny.” The urge to kiss his nose is strong, so you don't fight it. You die a little when he scrunches up his face on reflex. 

He's adorable and maybe you're a little obsessed.

“I can't believe cornering you somewhere is all it takes to make you blush!” You laugh, because you have him cornered right now. Against his desk this time. 

“It is not!” He defends himself to no avail, it makes you laugh, you're growing increasingly fond of him. 

“Such a pretty liar, huh? Quit trying to deny it, love.” That's the first affectionate nickname you've given him. And its effect is visible, if the smile on his face is anything to go by.

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

“How demanding.” But you do it anyway. And he takes it forward, like he does everytime, this time you're not confused. You want him. He wants you. And it's the best feeling ever. If he walks out of this room with hickeys later on, you don't need to act clueless. He's yours. 

But with the way his lips attach to your skin, maybe you'll be the target of your friends’ judgemental glances as well this time. You don't mind. You're his. 

If Jisung comes knocking now you're pretty sure you won't hear it over Hyunjin. The boy is sensitive. 

☆

“Maybe getting those two together was a bad idea, I can hear them and I'm sitting in a different room!” 

“Leave them alone, let's go to ours. We can't keep sitting here any longer like we're not hearing anything.” 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Hwang Hyunjin, how you love him and how his existence is a slap in the face of your father. He's everything good. But first off he's yours. And he loves you. Maybe clay doesn't need to be broken to be fixed, maybe if you just paint over the fingerprints and love the shapes as they are, you'll see some beauty in it. Hyunjin sees beauty in you that's for sure, he never seems to get tired of drawing you, being someone's muse is a wonderful feeling. He's your muse as well though, with the entire collection of writings he's prompted by simply existing. You recited some to him one day, maybe you'll give him a handwritten version of the rest on his birthday.

☆

You think it's ironic, you're back where you started, movie night in your dorm. Only this time you're tangled up with Hyunjin and the three boys are in a weird heap of limbs. Whatever they are, they're your friends. You're not gonna judge. 

But they will definitely keep judging the PDA Hyunjin makes them all witness. 

“You're both disgusting!” It's Jisung, and he's pulled back to sit by a worked up Felix. “He meant disgustingly cute!” 

“Why are you running damage control? They are disgusting.” That's Minho, just trying to eat his pudding.

This is how you like stuff, cozy, homelike, and a little bit silly.  

☆

“HWANG HYUNJIN DID YOU EAT THE LAST CUPCAKE?” 

“I didn't know it was yours!” You will chase him around the place until you get payback. You can hear the other boys laughing their asses off at how terrified Hyunjin is. 

He tries to take off in the opposite direction of you but is a few seconds late. 

“Caught ya! Now apologize!” You pinch his ear and his yelp is the most amusing thing for Jisung, it seems.

“Ow! I'm sorry your majesty! I will never touch your food again.” You almost think you've won before he runs off. You catch him again, obviously. This time in your room. 

“You little thief Hwang, I hate you.” You're out of breath and you're laughing. “Hate and love, same thing aren't they, darling?” He will never stop with that teasing tone. 

“Hmm, maybe you need a better lesson. You're lucky you're pretty, love.” His hair is messed up and he's slightly out of breath, there's a lopsided grin on his face. He's probably the prettiest being to ever exist.

You lean close and the expression on his face shifts a little, he looks a little doubtful, uncertain, almost vulnerable.

“Do you really want me?” He wants you to affirm it, to assure him.

“You know I do.”

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