#Challenges of Liquid Staking

[intelisync]

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[captain-joongz]

Cinderella

Pairing: club owner!Min Yoongi x f!reader x right-hand man!Jung Hoseok

Genre: non-idol au, pure fucking smut i'm not even playing, a hint at s2l??

Summary: Question - what is something that might help a shameless brat trapped in a body of a shy girl come out of her shell? Answer - two hot owners of a local club more than happy to whip her into shape.

Word count: 19.7k (i'm sorry lol)

Warnings: ginger Yoongi and that mama 2022 red carpet Hoseok (*in Britney Spears voice* a guy like you should wear a warning~), intoxication, min yoongi hands, they're softer doms, threesome, oral (f rec.), breath play and slight choking (i'm so predictable), light bdsm themes, spanking, bondage, light use of a whip, humiliation and degradation, reader is a right brat, multiple orgasms, overstim, clit slapping

A/N: indulge in this sope brainrot :). when i tell you this scenario changed my life i'm being only a little dramatic, long live our dom kings and i will die on this hill

„Come on Y/N, you should totally give it a try!” one of my friends exclaimed, drunkenly leaning on another one of our gals to her right, “You never know! And you should be more confident!” Other girls sitting around the dingy sticky table in the club we were currently in all enthusiastically nodded and grumbled their own supportive comments.

I looked over them, still unsure, and then back to the ginger man sitting on the bar, relaxedly swirling a glass of an amber gold liquid and occasionally taking a sip. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, just sat there and watched the two guys manning the bar wordlessly, which in my friends’ opinion made him an ‘easier target’.

Target of the stupidest game our drunken brains could have come up with – whoever manages to seduce a guy the quickest drinks for free for the rest of the night. The second that suggestion hit the table, I loudly opposed it, for two reasons.

First, it seemed kinda mean. And secondly, and most importantly, I was terrified of coming up to someone and just flirting. That’s not something I did, not that I was against it or for the lack of trying, and occasionally I entertained when someone came up to me and flirted, sometimes even going home with them. But I was shy, and when I got shy I got painfully awkward, so I’d rather save myself from that embarrassment.

“Yeah, it would do you some good,” my best friend Yeri, a tall thin pretty girl with her hair dyed cupid pink, suddenly turned to me and joined into the fray, “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re super hot and somehow you don’t realise it at all.” She was already a little tipsy as well, her posture more relaxed than usual as she giggled along every other word. There’s no love like drunk girl talking to her friends.

“That’s easy for you to say, you already finished your mission!” I whined back to her, the whole table’s undivided attention on me. To keep the stakes high and the game fair, we collectively selected a few guys and randomly divided them between us – each of us went to a specific man that was chosen by us and given to each girl.

But mine was out of this world, like unfairly so out of my league it would be embarrassing to even try. The moment I lost the game of rock paper scissors, I tried to bargain my way out of it – there was no way I could bag a guy like that in under a minute! That was insanity! But the girls wouldn’t budge, telling me to challenge myself and have faith in myself. That was easy of them to say when they didn’t have to walk up to a god amongst men and try to awkwardly flirt with him.

“Look at that guy, if I tried to talk to him he’d probably think I’m the valet or something,” I continued to grumble, as the constant stream of complaints didn’t stop since I lost the game.

Our attention collectively jumped back to him as he sat there. He had the kind of smirk on his face that was annoyingly effortlessly hot, giving him the aura of someone who was very well aware of his otherworldly qualities. The black tee with some kind of white print was oversized just right to be fashionable and hung off of his frame in a way that enhanced his physique in the best way. Black cargo pants and black boots gave him a punk vibe, and the whole look was finished with some chunky steel rings and necklaces that somehow managed to be even more hot and not look gaudy at all. My eyes trailed down to the rings, which were comfortably sat on one of the best hands I’ve ever seen, and I had to physically stop myself from drooling.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell I could just hit on that.

“What’s the worst that could happen? He says no. It’s worth a try,” Hana, another part of the friend group tried to wheedle me into going one more time. They all probably sensed I was about to give them another rebuttal, and an understanding passed through all of them.

Suddenly several pairs of hands were manhandling me, pulling me onto my legs and out of from the booth with the table we were sitting at. I let myself be pushed to the edge of the seat, too confused about what’s going on. Someone pushed a glass of alcohol in my hand and I downed it, resigning myself to this happening. A wave of compliments and encouragements washed over me, and I turned on shaky knees, those several drinks I’d already had making themselves known now that I was stood.

I took a step forward, froze, another few steps, and then promptly power-walked all the way back to the table. There was some booing and some disappointment, the girls already grumbling about how I shouldn’t chicken out now.

“How do you even flirt with someone like that?!” I hissed out in panic, not having the slightest idea of how to initiate conversation.

A barrage of tactics flew over me, one stranger than the next one, but I turned to Yeri, trusting her the most. “Just be really bold, he seems the type to like it,” she told me once she saw my trembling eyes, “walk over all confident and say something really crazy and ballsy.” With one last smile she started pushing me away into the direction of the bar again.

Easier said than done! ‘Just be bold’, thanks very much! That was the problem from the very beginning!

Putting my complaints away and pushing my brain to think of something to say to the rapidly approaching bar-dweller, I nervously dragged my gaze over him several times, stumbling in my distractedness several times. Come on brain, what do we like about him? What can we say?

As the man got closer and I got a clearer look at him, one thought overpowered every other – hands hands handshandshands.

I basically crashed into the bar upon my arrival, somewhat inelegantly attempting to lean into it with way too much force. The man startled a little before his eyes jumped up and looked straight at me, no distinct emotion discernible in them, but he certainly didn’t look extremely friendly.

Before I could stop myself, I let go of the reins over my drunken brain and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What nice necklaces you got there, but don’t you think they’d look better around my neck?”

I tried to sell the statement more by putting on a (hopefully) cheeky smirk and then pointedly looked at his hands coquettishly.

The man froze, only stared at me wide-eyed and shocked to his core, hand holding his glass halfway to his lips. Silence. I started panicking, and basically begun melting down with the shame and humiliation, already prepared to apologise and slink off to some dark corner and die there, but then he smiled.

It was a wide shit-eating grin, a devilish glint in his gaze now as he obviously checked me out, eyes gliding over my figure in a clearly appreciative manner. He put his charm on thick, lips curled smugly as he stared me quite intensely.

“Well, I don’t know princess, guess you’ll have to try them out,” his voice was basically a purr, a deep rumble that started up in his chest and drawled out of his mouth in a velvet perfection. I shuddered, now quickly getting flustered when he was flirting back. But I steeled myself, determined to bring this to a successful end. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“Oh, and you’d let me have a test drive?” I drawled out with my fingers playing with my hair (how basic!!), only a light stutter to my words that immediately sent a wave of heat to my already red cheeks. I only hoped it wasn’t visible under the lights of the club and the bar.

He leaned forward, chest now pressed into the edge of the bar, which brought our faces impossibly close. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, full of lust and dark promises, as his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk. The hand that used to hold the glass was now slowly, teasingly making its way up the skin of my naked arm, breaking a wave of goosebumps in its wake.

My whole body quivered, and my next exhale came out shaky; it was too audible in the tense atmosphere between the two of us. He must have definitely heard and felt my reaction, judging by his soft snicker, expression full of amusement and desire. Then his eyes bore into me, into my very soul, and threatened to consume me.

“I’d let you do that and a whole lot more, princess,” it was a whisper, but that didn’t take away from the intensity of the statement and the promise in his words. It poured over me like hot honey, my back immediately straightening and thighs pushing together on instinct, trying to contain the gush of sensations hitting my lower tummy and my heat. Very embarrassingly, I could already feel my panties rapidly getting wetter and wetter; the effect of the man was immense and he knew it very well, judging by the smug aura.

With a satisfied grin his hand moved from my arm down to my thigh, squeezing the flesh right under the hem of my mini skirt. The twitch that tore through me was completely involuntary and once again I found myself fighting for every shaky breath taken.

A quiet melodic laugh hit my ears and then the ginger menace leaned even closer to whisper straight into my ear. “Cute,” was all he muttered before he pulled all the way away from me, raising his hand to catch the attention of the barman, “but first, let me treat you to a drink, kitten.”

That suddenly snapped me back into reality and my brain jumped back online. As if waking up from a terribly amazingly sweet dream, I remembered the reason why I came over in the first place – the bet. The bet I thought I would absolutely fail at that I was about to complete now.

A laugh bubbled out of my throat, sweet and mischievous, and all the confidence I pretended to feel before rushed through my body straight into my head. With a giggle I leaned in and said: “A drink you say, huh?”

My smug smirk must have been awfully annoying, but the man only looked at me with curious eyes. He sensed the change in my behaviour immediately and it threw him for a loop – his amazingly brave little lamb was now laughing at him like the she was the wolf? His head tilted to the side as he tried to figure me out, but I only made sure he was watching me as I gestured thumbs up back to my friends.

The whole table erupted into cheers, Yeri was wildly gesturing something to me and it took a moment to realise she was trying to say I won. Her finger was pointing at her phone that had the stopwatch app open and she was laughing joyfully and sending me thumbs up. I grinned at her back, elated that I was able to not only overcome the initial fear but also best all the others.

Turning back to the ginger who was watching the whole interaction with curious surprised eyes, suddenly unsure and a little less dominant. I giggled at him, happily plucked the prepared colourful drink from his waiting hand and stood up, not before bowing to him slightly.

“Thank you very much, I appreciate your help,” I teased him with a wide smile, going as far as to lean heavily into his side until my lips were almost pressed to his ear as he did to me earlier and then whispered my killer shot: “It was pleasure doing business with you.”

With that I walked away, hips swaying side to side and confidence like I’d never felt coursing through my veins. The atmosphere at the table was unrivalled, and I had to admit it was probably the most fun I’d ever had on a night out so far, and I probably indulged in the free drinks far more than I should have.

But whenever I’d start feeling a little bad for my behaviour, I’d shyly look towards the bar, hoping I wouldn’t see the man too upset. He wasn’t. Anytime our eyes met, the wild primal hunger reflected in his would threaten swallow me whole, sending little shocks of pleasure and heat through my whole body.

That night I spent dancing feeling those eyes bore into me, eating up my every movement and salivating over me so openly I felt the fire of his lust all across the club. He never disappointed, never failed to deliver, and I lived for it.

And if I put on a little more show than I usually did while swaying my hips and dancing to slow sensual beats, that was only my business.

“I can’t believe you managed to talk me into coming here again,” I muttered grumpily to Yeri, who was happily vibrating next to me, her wide grin almost infecting me with the joy as well, but I held steadfast and kept on a frown just because. To prove a point, actually.

The girls (the same group as last time) were excitedly chattering in the line right behind us as we stood in the blistering heat of the setting sun on the street, waiting to be let inside a club. Why yes, it was the same club as last time.

The fateful Saturday night happened already full two weeks ago, and since then I haven’t stopped listening about it.

As my friends watched my interaction with the handsome stranger (the next morning, incredibly sore and hungover, I shamefully realised I didn’t even know his name), it suddenly was less about the bet for them and more about rooting for me to go and actually fuck him. I was so embarrassed about their loud drunken outbursts, trying to push me back into his direction and very unsubtly begging me to go and “get some premium dick”, but I stood my ground and never strayed from the dancefloor.

When we were leaving at 4 am – tired, already in the awful stages of slowly sobering up and with melting makeup and blistering feet, I was hounded the whole time about going to get his number at least (which I didn’t). I told them some things just end this way and I was okay with it (I wasn’t). In reality I was just a big fat coward.

The following two weeks were hell on earth – nobody, and I mean nobody, ever stopped talking about the ginger guy and how he had me folding with two or three lines and some charming smirks. The amount of scolding I got daily for not taking him up on his offer or at least giving him some contact info was insane, and I was slowly losing my patience with it.

That’s why when this Saturday the suggestion to go to the club again was thrown into the group chat, I knew it was more about them hoping I’d bump into him again than actually liking the club itself. I fought, valiantly, but I was outvoted. Someone even tried vetoing my disagreement.

So that’s how I found myself here, about to walk inside again in a black pleated mini-skirt, black crop with a heart cutout over my cleavage and cute little strapped heels (outfit courtesy of Yeri who wouldn’t let me walk out of my room until she approved that I was ‘extremely fuckable’) and some courageous makeup that I was slightly unsure about but everyone kept saying it was hot.

I was nervously shuffling, leaning into Yeri’s side as she started comforting me and calming me down.

“Don’t you think it’s even more awkward, seeing him again after I fucked him over like that?” I mumbled into her shoulder, careful about not smudging my red lipstick all over her pretty pink dress. Her arm coiled around me tighter and she quickly shook her head, her curled hair hitting me int the face with every move.

“Absolutely not, you think I didn’t see the way he was eye-fucking you the whole rest of the night? That was foreplay, baby. Now it’s time for the main course,” she recited confidently, and finally pushed us towards the stairs down now that the whole group was inside. I didn’t fully agree with her, to me it was obvious the connection kinda fizzled out by the end of the night, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

Tonight I’d go along with them, comfort them through the disappointment of him not being here (because what are the chances, honestly), and if he does show up I’d give him the awkward wave and move on and then they can cry about how anti-climactic this whole thing was. They’ll be sad for about ten minutes and then buy shots and promptly forget about any guys.

That was my plan for the night.

And for a while, everything went according to it. Coming down into the main hall of the club, all eyes (even mine, but I’d never admit it out loud) eagerly turned to the bar which the man was glued to the entire time, only to not see any sign of the ginger bombshell. My heart quivered in disappointment only a tiny bit, but I didn’t let them see, only gave them a look that screamed ‘I told you so’ and moved on.

During the first few rounds I scolded myself for actually letting myself get swayed by their words and hoping for his presence against my better judgement, and quickly convinced my heart that it was for the better he didn’t show up.

For a few hours we danced and drank, and it almost seemed that everyone started forgetting the reason why they even pushed to come here, the whole experience slowly turning into a normal night out, when suddenly Yeri that was dancing next to me loudly gasped into my ear.

It alerted me to her, but before I could even turn to her, she started wildly slapping my shoulder until it hurt.

“Ow, ow! Stop!” I slapped her hand away, considerably gentler than she did to me, and scowled at her slightly irritated with the commotion.

“He’s actually here!” she screamed that in my face, but with the loud music pumping all around us she might as well been whispering. The statement took the wind out of the sails of my slight annoyance and I floundered, stuttering and staring at her wide-eyed.

When Yeri realised I was too shocked to look myself, she grabbed my shoulders and forcefully turned me in the direction of the bar. I almost wanted to close my eyes, not even wanting to believe he actually did come to the club two weeks later and now I was facing the real chance of a terrible let-down, but at the same time I yearned to catch another glimpse of the ginger demon that swung my world upside down in literal seconds.

Tonight he was wearing a plain black hoodie and wider jeans with a single cut on both of his knees, showing off some pale skin that glistened under the flashing lights. He sat in the same spot, which meant currently his back was turned to us and he was none-the-wiser to our presence. He was locked into a long conversation with one of the guys manning the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, which spoke of the fact that he was most probably a frequent visitor.

I felt my palms getting clammy as I suddenly sweated for a very different reason than before. Yeri was excitedly shouting and gesturing at the rest of the group, and I saw some of their very crude and very dirty gestures back, before I turned back to the bar blushing and embarrassed.

Before I knew it, Yeri was fighting our way through the crowd towards the bar and I twisted a little in her hold, panicking and ashamed.

“Yeri, wait! God, please wait!” I pleaded with her, and something in my voice must have been truly desperate because she actually listened to me. With troubled eyes she gave me a once over, clocked in the shaky eyes and unsure knees, and then changed the direction towards the hall with toilets.

It was relatively calmer there, the bass still booming through the walls and the echo of the song playing reaching our ears, but we could actually speak in a semblance of privacy where usually no one lingered for too long.

“What’s wrong?” my best friend asked, and to her credit, she was truly worried, but I couldn’t believe she didn’t understand. I threw my hands out and looked at her incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?” I asked her, exasperated, “What don’t you understand about the fact that I maybe don’t want to talk to him again?!” My voice raised a little, and I did feel bad about it, but the whole situation put me too much on edge to apologise immediately.

Yeri didn’t seem to be too offended, instead she just watched me with her steady all-knowing eyes, and it felt like they saw all the way inside my insecure little soul. My face crumbled under the power of that, and I knew she’d have me spilling everything to her anyway by the end of this conversation.

“Y/N, you literally have nothing to worry about,” her guess was correct, just as I feared, and I avoided her softened loving gaze, “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and I know you know that, and I know you think you’re too awkward… But you had that man literally drooling all over himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you until the moment you walked out of that bar. He wants you, a lot.”

“I know that we kind of stared at each other, but I don’t know…” I told her and I hated how weak and vulnerable my voice turned as I spilled out my insecurities to her, “the novelty kind of wore off, didn’t it? Now I’m just an awkward girl stuttering under the gaze of the hottest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. I could barely get a word out when he looked at me.” That had my friend smirking up a storm and I narrowed my eyes at her, already knowing she was about to annoy the shit out of me.

“Yeah, and as someone who watched your entire interaction, he fucking loved it,” she said firmly, a teasing lilt to her words, “Please, trust me. Do you trust me?” Of course I fucking trusted her, so I petulantly nodded, even though I was grumbling to myself that it had nothing to do with that.

“Do you trust that I have a set of functioning eyes?” she teased some more, grinning at me mischievously as she poked me in my ribs with her fingers. Even as I tried to stay upset, the laugh was punched out of me completely involuntarily and I found myself slowly relaxing. When I nodded, her grin turned all happy and toothy.

“Then trust me when I say that the moment you walk up to him, he’ll be over the fucking moon,” her voice was soft and loving, and it almost made me a little mushy, “and trust me when I say that tonight he’ll definitely not let you walk away from him.” She winked as she said that and I laughed at her, pushing her a little teasingly.

I did feel lighter and less stressed. I felt like I could actually go and talk to him again, and I smiled at my best friend, knowing she just wanted the best for me and was always on my side.

“And if he turns out to be a dick, then you’ll come back and I’ll buy us a drink and we’ll curse him out,” she added cheekily, already stepping away from me to head back onto the dancefloor. That made me laugh, because… as if I didn’t say that before.

Rejuvenated and slightly more confident, I turned from Yeri and headed in the opposite direction she went in – straight to the bar. The guy was still sitting there, still turned away from me, but now he seemed to be back to not really engaging with anyone, not even the friendly smiling barman that was currently serving drinks to someone while laughing with his coworker… until he wasn’t.

In an inopportune moment his head turned just right for me to graze the corner of his eye and then he was full on swinging around to do a double take, startling the poor guy he worked with. Suddenly there were two sets of eyes trained on me and I froze, blushing under their gazes as the recognition set in and teasing smirks played on both of their faces.

The dark-haired one then went to wave his hand, but immediately I realised it wasn’t to greet me but to alert the ginger who was kind of just staring off into nowhere. To keep the element of surprise, I lunged into movement, basically jumping the last few steps and crashing into the bar in a terrible déjà vu, trying to look elegant and sexy even as I winced lightly at the impact.

My back was now turned to the two little shits behind the bar, and I could only imagine the expression on their faces, but I was too preoccupied with the wide-eyed stare from the man of the hour himself.

This time he shook off the surprise way quicker, relaxing almost immediately as he realised who I was, a truly smug smirk splitting his face. His gaze was unabashedly travelling all over me, taking in every detail, and I was suddenly reminded of how intense it was to be in the centre of his attention.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he drawled out, but it was more amused than anything and I slowly started letting go of the fear that he was incredibly mad at me for our last meeting, “what, looking for another free drink?”

I flushed with embarrassment, avoiding his eyes as much as possible, which wasn’t that much of a great idea when that brought me to staring at his hands. His cursed, beautiful hands that never strayed too far from my dreams even as I tried to forget about the man.

They started flexing, stretching across the expanse of the thick glass and showcasing their strength, and I realised I was caught. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my plight, I turned my gaze somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fixating on a pillar or something that stood directly behind.

“Sorry about that, it was a stupid game,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore his insistent attempts to move his head to where my eyes were trained at, “It was quite rude of me.” He chuckled and I could basically feel the entertainment seeping off of him in waves.

“Don’t worry about it princess,” the velvety purr was back and the ginger clearly decided that if I wasn’t going to look at him, he’ll just try every dirty trick in the book. He leaned into me, lips easily finding the shell of my ear as his hand weightily clasped over the exposed skin of my thigh.

“There’s a very easy way for you to make it up to me,” he whispered languidly, caressing over me with his sweet words, “this time when I buy you a drink, don’t run off, as easy as that.” I was so embarrassed by my previous actions I found it hard to actually answer, so I just cleared my throat and hummed low in my throat in agreement.

He seemed satisfied with that, hand moving from my leg to possessively squeeze at my waist as if he was insuring I really wouldn’t leave as soon as I got my drink, and I did have to laugh at that. His narrowed eyes hit me as soon as he heard my giggles, the teasing reprimand in them spoke volumes, but he stayed silent, hand waving for the barman while his eyes never left mine.

“What’s up,” came the low baritone of the guy as he came closer to us. I could clearly hear the amusement in his voice, but the informal address also didn’t escape me, and I started wondering who this guy actually was. This time I would at least leave the bar knowing his name, if nothing else.

Tuning out while he was ordering, I was just about to ask for his name, when the teasing voice of the younger guy registered back into my brain.

“And would that be on the bar, Yoongi-hyung?” it was some kind of a joke, judging by (apparently) Yoongi’s scoff even as he clearly wasn’t mad or annoyed, and he shot back with: “Stop asking stupid questions, Tae.” It was all jokes and games, the two men laughing and smiling at each other, when I froze in his hold.

Wait a minute. On the bar. Yoongi. Hyung. A memory rushed to the forefront of my mind – Hana excitedly rattling off about a club she wanted to go to, that she heard about because apparently the word on the streets was the owners were super hot. Saturday, two weeks ago, as she dragged us off into this club. A club owned by some guy called Min Yoongi and his friend Jung Hoseok.

The very same guy that was currently watching me go through this whole rollercoaster of realisations with an amused grin on his face, hand still securely curled around my waist and pushing me into the bar.

Jesus fucking christ.

I wasn’t actually sure whether I paled or blushed, but something crazy was happening with my face as I opened and closed my mouth like a beached fish fighting for its life, finger slowly lifting and wordlessly pointing towards the ginger man.

Yoongi finally couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst out laughing, the pure joy on his face making him look even more impossibly handsome with his cute smile and eyes closed in glee, but then he was suddenly fixing me with another one of his cocksure smirks and leaning closer.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, and his excitement was suddenly palpable between us, his whole body trying to curl around me eagerly, “don’t tell me you didn’t even know whose hands you wanted to choke you so bad?” My breath got stuck in my throat fighting to stutter out, and then I was just all pliable and melting right in his arms. That’s all it took, and it was absolutely pathetic on my part, but I couldn’t really bring myself to feel ashamed about it, especially not when Yoongi was pulling me closer, off the bar stool and nearly wedging me between himself and the wooden bar.

“Come on, princess, where’s my cocky little tease telling me the naughtiest things and then walking away with a huge fucking grin on her face?” the man teased me, so close that his hot breath was hitting the crook of my neck as I shivered and trembled under him, “You’re being such a good girl right now, I’m beginning to think this might be another one of your ploys.”

At his words, a surge of confidence hit me, reinforced by the clear lust that was dripping off of his voice, off of his aura. Suddenly I was back to the night two weeks ago, preening under his starving eyes, each moment between us packed with so much unreleased sexual tension it might have set the whole club on fire.

While Yoongi tentatively nosed under my ear, testing the waters afraid he’d push me away by being too much too fast, I sneaked my arm up his back aiming to give him exactly what he wanted.

Snaking my hand into his hair, I heard his little sigh, body pulling into me a little further as he took it as an encouragement to continue. Just as his lips lightly kissed at my neck, the slightest sweetest hint of tongue tasting the salty sweat, I grabbed a handful of the ginger locks and pulled, dragging his face away from me.

The moment our eyes met, it was like an electric current went off between us, his pupils dilated and darkened, consumed with desire, and mine couldn’t have looked much different. There was slight annoyance at my action written on his pretty face, but the grin was as amused as ever, pleased, even, that I dared to go against him.

My tongue slipped through my smirking lips very briefly, just teasing the man with little extra disobedience, and it worked to pull his attention, gaze trained on my blood red lips.

“There she is,” he whispered that almost reverently, the unfiltered joy running through him on a shiver, and I saw the exact moment he lost the battle to his instincts and surged to claim my mouth in a searing kiss.

Only… he never got there. Yoongi abruptly stopped midway, eyes jumping somewhere behind my shoulder, and I almost whined out loud, so desperate for his attention after I had it for a few brief moments.

But then his grin turned nasty, just downright filthy, and a shiver of arousal plundered through me. Before I knew what was happening, brain already muddled by this guy almost beyond recognition, he was spinning me in his hold. My back hit his chest, his hand splaying over my stomach in the process, and I was greeted with a delicious sight.

There was a man sitting in the chair that I was previously occupying before Yoongi pulled me off to himself, he was leaning his head on his hand that was propped up on the bar, watching us with an amused smirk and hungry eyes. I flushed under his gaze, and also from realising that he’d been watching us, but with the slightest curl of shame in my stomach I found that I really didn’t mind at all.

This guy was insanely attractive as well, he had dark hair slicked back and swept off of his forehead and an expanse of skin on show. He was also dressed in all black, but a very different vibe – dress pants that hugged his waist and hips nicely, accentuating his slim form, a silken blouse that was open all the way to his fucking belly button, but somehow it still looked extremely stylish and tasteful, covering just enough while giving you a taste of exquisite miles of honey-toned skin. He topped it off with a black suit jacket that fell past his hips and hung off of him nicely. For some reason he was also wearing his sunglasses, even here inside the club.

Looking at him made me feel like a horny nun in a sex shop. I swear to god I started sweating under his obviously interested eyes that peered over the rim of those black glasses and lingered on Yoongi’s possessive hold around my waist.

His hand swiftly tugged the sunglasses off and when he looked at my face again, there was a bright friendly smile on his, but something sharper and darker lurked beneath it, sending shivers down my spine in anticipation.

“Having a fun night, hyung?” he asked, voice happy and teasing, a laugh spilling out of him effortlessly like it was natural for him to do that with every word. Behind me there was a slight rumble as well, and I could only guess what kind of expression graced the ginger man’s face, but something hungry reflected in the newcomer at seeing it.

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi said in greeting and I jerked, recognising that name immediately. Amusement pulsed in the air, making me feel like I suddenly got caught between two starving wolves, while I just stood there wide-eyed and blushing. “You wouldn’t believe who returned to me tonight,” the older man continued, and I could hear the shit-eating grin in his intonation.

The hand that wasn’t currently lightly caressing the exposed sliver of skin between my crop and my skirt lifted from its place on the bar and laid gently on my neck, hold just strong enough to feel its weight there and fix me in place, but not to actually grasp. My heart stammered a few times in my chest, a needy noise getting stuck in my throat and tampering off into a little whiny exhale. My face was burning, but the interest of the two men seemed to skyrocket at the sound.

“Oh!” the exclamation out of Hoseok’s mouth was full of unbridled thrill and he leaned closer as well, recognising the gesture as something to do specifically with me in a way that sent shame and excitement through me, “Look who it is, our very own Cinderella!” Now when his gaze swept over me, there was a slight glaze over it, like he was putting the body to the tale he must have heard from Yoongi himself.

“So this is she,” the dark-haired man said finally when his eyes feasted enough, sparkles reflecting in them as he stared me down before he offered me his hand. Kind of dumbfounded I reached for it on instinct, making me even more aware of Yoongi’s hands coiled all around my body.

Hoseok quickly grabbed it as soon as it got within his reach, but instead of a handshake he pulled my hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the top, eyes sending me cheeky glances as I blushed under the ministration.

“Nice to meet you, Cinderella, my name is Hoseok,” he stated sensually, the fire that was steadily burning right under his surface momentarily showing, and then he pulled back all sunshiney and smiley again, like he wasn’t staring me down like a predator just a second ago.

“Oh, that’s right,” Yoongi suddenly mumbled, and I shamefully realised I was so pulled into Hoseok’s aura I forgot about the presence glued to my back, “What is your name, princess?” The dark-haired man in front of me suddenly gasped loudly, jokingly slapping his friend’s shoulder in reprimand.

“Hyung, you haven’t asked her till now?” he whined loudly, draping himself over the counter a little bit and making himself comfortable leaning his head on his hand again, “How incredibly rude of you. You were about to stick your tongue down her throat without even introducing yourself.” I flushed at the reminder of what got interrupted by Hoseok’s arrival, quickly averting my eyes and staring at the floor shyly.

There were few chuckles all around, and then the hands released me. I stumbled a little, not expecting to lose my tether and allowing my legs to grow weak knowing I was being held up, but thankfully Hoseok seemed to have quite quick reflexes, and his hand shot out to grab my hip, righting me on my feet. I mumbled my thanks and leaned on the bar casually like I was just waiting for my drink, trying to ignore the mounting sexual tension between the three of us.

Quickly clearing my throat, I hoped to dispel the slight awkwardness that suddenly overtook me, drumming my fingers on the bar. Suddenly realising that the drink Yoongi ordered for me stood completely forgotten and melting there, I reached for it and started downing it while I felt their amused but still ravenous eyes on my figure.

“I know, Hobi-ya, I’ve been such a bad host,” Yoongi purred out, fingers playing with the glass with what I assumed was whiskey. Since every time my gaze got stuck on his perfect hands his ego seemed to grow even more (which I thought to be impossible, but Yoongi proved to be an impossible man, so it checked out), I tried to avoid the sight, but my eyes still got dragged down every once in a while, lured in by the massive rings flashing under the lights and the pretty veins flexing with every movement.

There was some rapport between them, shooting one clever dirty remark after another, but I sort of tuned them out for a moment, getting lost in the world of possibilities that opened before me quite abruptly. I try to win a bet and end up getting chatted up by not one, but two owners of the very club. I almost wanted to run off just to whisper this to Yeri and giggle about it with Hana, some slight snickers escaping my mouth at the image of her wide-open mouth at finding out who these guys were.

“What are you laughing at, Cinderella?” a voice right next to my ear tears me out of my musings, and I immediately shuddered, feeling the hot puff of air of his breath hitting the tender skin of my neck. Hoseok was grinning at me wickedly when I turned to him, so close I could count all of his perfect pretty lashes.

Belatedly I realised I never actually introduced myself, the conversation getting derailed immediately and I got so flustered I forgot he even asked, so I cleared my throat and said: “My name’s Y/N.” It came out a little scratchy still, emphasizing how deliciously nervous they made me, which in turn served to excite them even more – I could see it in their dark expectant eyes.

Then I smirked, regaining a little bit of sense now that I wasn’t helplessly caught in Yoongi’s sweet net. “And that’s none of your business,” I added, barely supressing the desire to stick out my tongue at him. I’d keep that one in the arsenal, I was sure I’d get many a chance to be bratty at him until the morning.

Hoseok hummed, a spark running through him at the tiniest bit of attitude, but then he smirked back.

“I see what you mean, hyung, you do have to push her a little to get to that fire,” the dark-haired man said almost too conversationally, like they were discussing their favourite drinks. His head tilted as he regarded me and I felt almost undressed under the weight of that stare. Looking at him, he was clearly already thinking of how he’d like to push me to get the reactions he wanted, so I chose to ignore him even as heat threatened to overtake my face.

Instead I narrowed my eyes at Yoongi, who was trying to look as innocent as possible but he couldn’t hide the devilish spark about him, his smile a little too sharp to get away with anything.

“What exactly have you been telling him?” my voice tilted in faux anger, but there was a grin tugging at my lips even as I was attempting to fix him with my stare. Needless to say, he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

Leaning forward, until our noses were almost brushing and our breaths mingled, and I felt my knees getting a little weak again, he grinned. “Nothing but the truth.” We were locked in what I’d call an eye-fucking staring contest, but neither of us wanted to back down. As I started to feel a little more comfortable in their presence, I quickly found my spine again, and they clearly liked when I sassed them a little. So I let go and slipped into my usual stance.

“Well, I originally came here to talk shop, but this is much more interesting,” came Hoseok’s voice from our right, and we both looked over at the same time. He was watching us with an obvious smile, but not the ones like before, no. This one made me shiver (as if they haven’t been doing that for the entire night).

I quickly spun around, leaning on the bar with my back instead of my front, and looked seemingly carelessly into the crowd, partly trying to annoy them a little and partly actually searching for Yeri to make sure she knew I was okay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s clearly nothing happening,” I sing-songed slyly, making sure I put a little distance between all of us. Yoongi, who was clearly the one more experienced with me bolting, was shifting around on his stool, and for the first time that evening I realised how much they both towered over me even with my heels, even when they both sat and I was standing. It was exhilarating, like getting slowly sweetly hunted.

I made eye contact with my best friend exactly the second two hands from two different directions wrapped around me and fixed me to place, Hoseok’s elegant hand squeezing at my waist while Yoongi’s bejewelled one made itself home in the crook of my neck, as close to grabbing me by the throat as he could get away with in the middle of a crowded club.

I stuttered out a gasp, my thoughts screeching to a halt and Yoongi took the chance to dip down to my ear and whisper: “You’re not running away from us that easily, pretty girl.” I couldn’t help the little smirk, thinking back to Yeri’s words promising me that if I went to speak to him, he wouldn’t let me go again. Oh how right she was, and she’d be super annoying about it later, but right now I was so glad she convinced me to go I’d accept all the teasing later.

Yeri was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, face a little worried at the sudden appearance of a second man. She raised her hand in the universal ‘ok’ gesture, a question written into her features. I quickly nodded, not wanting to leave her hanging, and then turned to Yoongi and staring right into his eyes.

“If I knew you were this desperate for me, I’d have given you a few more crumbs last time,” I teased him shamelessly, too satisfied with myself for Yoongi’s liking. He growled lightly, the rumble rising through his chest and throat and vibrating on my shoulder. The ginger ducked his head back into my neck and then there was a quick warning nip to the soft skin, which had me gasping breathlessly, thrumming in their arms.

Hoseok was quietly laughing to my right, free hand amusing itself by playing with my dark curled hair while he amusedly watched his hyung getting provoked like that.

With blown out pupils and wild heart jumping around in my chest I turned again to find Yeri’s eyes once more. She was glancing our way occasionally, and by now the other girls noticed as well, all hooting and hollering and gesturing at me happily. I grinned back, and then pulled out my phone from my little bag and tapped it so everyone saw. It was our gesture to have them check their messages.

With that I slowly pulled myself from their hands, and as possessively as they both clutched at me, once I actually showed the intent to leave, they both let go easily, leaning back in their chairs. I could see the moment of nervousness in Yoongi’s eyes, probably afraid he’d taken it too far with the bite, but I smirked at both of them, trying to ease them a little.

“Gentlemen, I need to use the restroom,” I announced heartily, thrusting my bag into Hoseok’s hands, “I trust this will be safe with you.” With a little wink, clutching my phone in hand, I turned on my heel and happily bounced through the throngs of people towards the quiet hallway.

Once there, I quickly pulled up the group chat, not being able to keep this all to myself anymore.

Petty bitch: you won’t fucking believe me what I found out

The slew of messages was immediate, some begging for the tea and some berating me for texting them when I had two very hot men to make out with.

Pink nightmare: istfg if you don’t tell me now

Petty bitch: calm down lol, i’m not gonna leave you hanging

Petty bitch: you know who these guys are?

Petty bitch: min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW??????

Dressed to distress: Y/N YOU BETTER NOT BE PULLING YM BALLS RIHGT NOW

Dressed to distress: istfg you better go there and fuck them until they can’t walk or i’ll never speak to you again

Pink nightmare: i think Hana almost passed out when she read that

Dressed to distress: shut up it’s big news

Dressed to distress: it’s THE min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: FUCK THEM. N O W.

I was laughing at the endless barrage of messages, Hana and Yeri taking over the group chat with their combined freaking out and subtle threats to end our friendship if I leave again. The smile on my face was fixed permanent at that point, and the warmth spread through me quickly knowing I had such support out there, even though it was about getting fucked senseless.

Petty bitch: aye aye captain, will do sir

Dressed to distress: you better

Petty bitch: you were right tho yeri, about what you said before

Pink nightmare: i know ;)

With one last smile at the screen, I locked the device again and made my way back to the bar, where the two man conversed leisurely. A third chair was pulled between them, waiting and empty, and Hoseok was still securely clutching onto the little red handbag. I supposed that was the only reason they were being so chill, though I wouldn’t understand anyone that would be able to walk away from them for the second time.

Confidently walking over, I went straight for the empty stool and sat down without glancing at either of the men, instead gesturing at the smiley barman, Tae if I remembered correctly. He waved at me and without saying anything he started preparing my drink.

Well, there was a certain advantage to being the girl that his bosses were about to fuck.

Said men didn’t waste a second and immediately engulfed me in their warmth, flanking both my sides, hands wandering around the small of my back or the exposed skin of my thighs (that one was definitely Yoongi, judging by the cooling feeling of heavy jewellery dragging across the heated skin that made me shiver more than I was prepared to admit).

A small talk started up between us, talking about mostly nothing or inconsequential things, about what we did that day or whether I also got mad at the latest change in bus schedule (Hoseok got weirdly passionate about that, considering he most definitely either drove a high-end car or even had a chauffeur).

But it was increasingly more difficult to pay attention to a single thing that was said when their hands slowly but surely strayed more and got bolder and bolder, with Hoseok’s sliding up, up, under my little top, until his thumb was sliding across the line of my bra, while Yoongi had managed to slowly inch his way almost all the way under my skirt. He was so close to accidentally brushing against the edge of my panties, and it was driving me insane.

I was endlessly squirming in my seat, legs constantly fighting to either fall further open or squeeze under the rush of sensations, either giving the smug man more opportunities to caress my inner thigh or just trapping his hand there.

And as if sensing what Yoongi was doing, and how he kept me on edge, Hoseok begun inching his head closer, leaning in until I felt every word he said on the skin of my naked shoulder, until his soft lips were brushing against me with every laugh and murmur, sometimes even giving up the pretence of polite conversation and just openly kissing his way around my crop when he wasn’t talking.

It took me entirely too long to realise they were just winding me up on purpose, finding new stupid stuff to bring up just to prolong the sweet torture.

I snapped sometimes in the middle of a heated debate over soap dispensers in public bathrooms, just as Yoongi was detailing his thought process over choosing the ones they had in their restrooms.

“Are you planning to finger me right here on the bar?” I jumped into his spiel, the frustration bleeding into my voice, “Or are we going to talk about soap until morning?” Yoongi immediately shut up, amused grin playing on his lips and his hand flexing on my thigh at the mention of fingering. Hoseok also froze where he was in the middle of gently mouthing at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips pull into a smirk.

Tae that was just passing by looked horrified though and started protesting basically as soon as I was done with my little outburst.

Before I knew what was happening, both men were on their feet and pulling me along, each one hand in their grasp. There was a quick understanding between them, and they both started off in the same direction.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Hoseok purred, overcome by the excitement, “No matter how hot fingering you at the bar would be, let’s reserve that for when the club’s closed.” The promise of future endeavours worked like a charm on me, and I quickly melted into their embrace, speeding up to keep up with their rushed steps.

Turns out, they were going towards a dark door, coloured just well enough to blend into the walls. Yoongi impatiently started unlocking it, almost barging into it once the key finally turned. It opened to a narrow little barren hallway that ended in stairs going up.

The three of us couldn’t fit there side by side, so I ended up with Hoseok’s arm around my shoulders with Yoongi going ahead, taking the stairs by two. Up there was a little space and a singular door, which finally led into what must have been their office space.

It was a nice room, a little dark, there was only a single small window and it was currently night outside, but it was decorated nicely, giving it a modern yet cozy feel. There was a dark wood desk in one corner, with a massive chair behind it, and a nice little conference table with a comfortable sofa in the other.

Hoseok led us straight towards there, but just as I wanted to move to sit on the nice dark blue furnishing, I was pulled down by the man and we both tumbled onto the soft carpet instead. He cleverly manoeuvred me so that once down, I ended up almost in his lap, and his arm coiled around my waist quickly to keep me pressed up against him.

I’d have laughed at his cheekiness, I would have, but then his face was buried in my neck and finally kissing in earnest, and all that came out of me was a pleased sigh. There was clinking coming from somewhere behind us, but I ignored it in favour of running my hand up Hoseok’s back until it was tangled into his styled hair. He released a few pleasured chuffs and then he was pulling back.

I whined, I couldn’t help myself, and I wasn’t even particularly ashamed of it once I saw his teasing smile. The dark-haired man amused himself by pressing in closer, our lips only a breath away, and then jerking from me when I tried to close the distance, laughing in earnest at my frustration.

His hands kneaded my hips, similarly pulling me close enough but then keeping me in place when I tried to shuffle closer, until I had enough. I was so turned on, not only from the teasing from before, worked up from their gentle touches on the bar, but also from being so close to finally having what I wanted only to be entertainment for him. So fine, if he wanted to play, let’s play.

Using the hand in his hair, I tugged at it a little harsher than before, enough to jerk Hoseok’s head back as he wasn’t expecting it. A little hiss of pain escaped his lips, but even as I quickly descended on him I saw the swirl of arousal in his eyes. Using the moment of surprise, I finally crashed our lips together and barrelled into him, not giving him a chance to stop me when I finally climbed atop his lap properly and made myself home there.

He took it all in stride, giving me what I wanted, happily so if his overjoyed little noises were anything to go by. I didn’t give him a chance to tease more by controlling the pace of the kiss, instead I kissed him filthily from the beginning, going in hard.

Hoseok matched my pace easily, accepting all of my desire and doubling it with his own, wasting no time in licking into my mouth, pushing his tongue in and claiming me thoroughly. We battled for dominance briefly, our tongues messily pushing against each other, the kiss descending into heated wet chaos, but it was mind-meltingly good and I couldn’t stop the outpouring of moans that the man eagerly swallowed and answered with his own.

When we finally separated for air, I suddenly became aware of the fact that I’ve been rocking against him as his hands firmly gripped at my waist, supporting the flow of my movements.

We breathed heavily into each other, my brain already muddled and its only goal turning to getting railed into oblivion. Hoseok’s gaze was trained somewhere off to my left and I turned, being greeted by the sight of Yoongi leisurely sprawled over the sofa, whiskey glass hanging from his hand.

His eyes were beyond starving, fixed on us in a manner that excited me as much as it unnerved me, but then Hoseok was chuckling into my ear and whispering “hyung must like the show” and my head was spinning with the force of lust that surged through me.

This time when I lunged for another kiss, the man was already expecting me, accepting me. Hoseok was full of eager noises, sighs and moans and groans, all escaping into my hungry mouth and sounding through the room alongside the wet smacking of our lips. And I wasn’t far behind, the quiet moans spilling out freely as my hips jerked over the man, this time very much with purpose.

There was a bulge increasingly hardening right beneath my soaked centre, and every time I rubbed against it there was a hitch in both of our staggered breathing. My skirt has long since ridden all the way up, pretty much exposing my panties to Yoongi’s eager eyes as he watched me hump his friend.

Our mouths fell apart for breath, but Hoseok immediately trailed wet scorching kisses down my jaw and neck, licking into the skin there. At first I didn’t even realise when the scales of power started tipping the other way, not until I was suddenly pulled up and slammed down on the little table, splayed on my back and with a very horny man attached to me and pushing me into the sturdy wood.

My head was spinning and I could barely see through the haze, the fog filling my mind with every swipe of Hoseok’s talented tongue, and when I bumped into something I didn’t even care that much. Not until the dark-haired man bit down hard at the junction of my neck and I threw my head back with a debauched scream, body seizing and arms flying back in an attempt to grasp onto something.

Soft jean material was suddenly between my fingers, and I started slowly noting that there was a bony leg underneath it.

Hoseok’s hips relentlessly pushed into mine, jerking into me and letting me feel every inch of his now erect cock, still confined to his silken pants.

“Going to ruin your expensive slacks, pretty boy,” I gasped out with a laugh and the man scoffed into the skin in the crook of my neck. His hips slowed down to a drawled-out grind, torturing me with delicious drag of the prominent bulge through the thin material of my panties.

I felt his big strong hand splayed out on the meat of my thigh, holding my leg curled around his hips and pinning me into place.

“I’m not a teenager anymore, angel, I can hold my own,” he purred between licks and kisses, enjoying the slowed down pleasure as it made me squirm in impatience, since the turn in pace was quite sudden.

“Oh yeah? You’re already a big boy?” I teased right back, little gasps and moans escaping me with every sharp nip to my neck. I was already breathless, writhing around on the table under a man who seemed to be gradually more and more cocksure as the seconds ticked by.

Hearing my words, he ground his hips into me with surprising force, shocking a moan out of me. “Can’t you feel for yourself?” he giggled into my ear, upping the tempo and force behind his thrusts until I was thrown around and had no idea where was up and down.

Brain overrun with pleasure, any kind of smart retort died in my throat under the sudden onslaught of pleasure coursing through me, only desperately holding onto Hoseok’s shoulders while he ravaged me. The little table pitifully squeaked under us, but it seemed it would hold even with how wild he was getting.

“Oh? No more witty remarks?” he now fully teased, enjoying this little game we had going, “Do you only behave when you’re fucked into oblivion?”

Before I could respond, Hoseok straightened out, hands migrating to hold down my hips as he jerked into me and laughed down at me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sight I made – flushed, with messy hair and red lipstick smeared around my lips. His eyes drank me up hungrily, mouth open and tongue licking his lips like I was the most delicious dessert. There was a tinge of red on them from mine too, and with his blown out eyes it painted such an erotic picture I felt myself clench around nothing.

A deep dark chuckle from behind me made me remember the fact that there actually was another person here with us, but I didn’t turn to look at him. Instead I channelled all my energy into smirking towards Hoseok.

He himself was far from collected, a tiny line of sweat breaking out at his hairline and his cheeks were a healthy red colour, eyes hazy and dark. Sensing my rebellion, he smiled sweetly and waited for what I’d grace them with.

“And you think you have it in you to do that?” I gasped out cheekily, almost even winking at him, but instead I settled for letting my tongue peek out slightly and poking my upper lip with it, “A healthy confidence is sexy, but don’t oversell yourself, pretty boy.”

The moment Hoseok’s eyes darkened with slight aroused irritation, face pulling into a hard dominant mask, I knew I’d succeeded in pushing his buttons just right. I felt the hands holding me tighten, but his hips abruptly stilled.

A disbelieving chuckle came from Yoongi, who must have been comfortably sitting on the sofa behind us watching everything unfold. “Now you’ve done it, princess,” his deep raspy voice rumbled amusedly.

Anticipation set heavy into my bones, my whole body thrumming in excitement while I watched the tick in Hoseok’s jaw. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, no doubt coming up with some way to punish me.

“Well, I think we have to teach our little guest some manners, don’t you hyung?” it was like a switch turned in him and there was no trace of the happy smiley man he was mere minutes ago, now only intense determination shined through his face as he began pulling away from me.

Yoongi hummed, then there was a sound of shifting and suddenly the man’s breaths were hitting my ear, the goosebumped skin of my neck shivering at his abrupt proximity. “I couldn’t agree more, Hob-ah,” the ginger whispered, but in the quiet office it was still perfectly audible.

The smirk that split Hoseok’s face was completely different from the one before and it frankly sent shivers down my spine in a somewhat jittery excitement.

Both men then stood up, leaving me alone on the table. Before I knew it, I was whining like a little abandoned pup, scrambling to get up as well, but a firm gesture to stay from Hoseok had me freezing in my spot, only a whimper escaping my mouth where I laid.

I watched them as they rummaged through a small closet, each pulling out something else. When they turned back to me, Yoongi was hiding something behind his back while Hoseok’s hand was wrapped around with some colourful piece of cloth. They made no move closer to me though, just stood there and watched me sprawled out on the little table.

I was squirming under their heated gazes, a little unsure and a lot desperate. I just wanted their hands on my body, their cocks stuffed in whatever hole they pleased, but I was so awfully alone there on that little table – that must have been illegal. Fighting the whimpers from trickling out of my mouth, I seeped in my embarrassment and lust, eyes begging them for anything.

“Look at her hyung,” Hoseok started, ever the more talkative one of the duo, “look how obedient and desperate she gets when we take the pleasure away from her.” The older man’s eyes glided over me for the thousandth time, hungry and burning, and I almost cowered from them on instinct.

“Not so mouthy now, are we princess?” he teased as well, in that voice of his that made me embarrassingly aroused.

Within moments Hoseok was back onto me, but now he just grabbed my waist and pressed me into the wood, arms and hips holding me from squirming but not touching me in any relief-inducing way.

I almost whined again when suddenly Yoongi’s hands entered my periphery from above, where he was situated back on the sofa behind me. While Hoseok held me still, the man grabbed both of my hands and started gently fastening a tie around the wrists, slowly enough to let me see what he was doing and loosely enough for me to protest anytime.

But the second I saw that happening, my breath hitch in excitement and I arched into Hoseok’s hands, the man quietly snickering to himself.

“This okay?” Yoongi’s voice was completely serious, devoid of any teasing from before. I nodded, but quickly remembered myself and before he could ask I rasped out a “yes!”. The answering smile washed over me along with a little murmur of “good girl” and I positively melted under them, hips desperately pushing down to find Hoseok’s.

“Are you familiar with the colour system?” the dark-haired man asked this time, eyes trained on his hyung carefully twisting and turning the tie to properly fasten a comfortable safe knot on it. I caught myself as I started nodding again, and instead croaked out another affirmative, pulling satisfied smiles out of them just as Yoongi lightly yanked on the binding and the knot shrank and tightened until it was snugly sitting on the skin of my wrists.

“Anything, and I mean anything, feels weird – don’t hesitate to let us know,” with last comforting murmur Yoongi moved back to sit onto the sofa – my nod must have been enough for him – and as he went my arms stretched backwards over my head. The ginger leisurely held onto the fabric like it was a leash, giving me slight room to move, but keeping his presence known.

Hoseok’s reassuring smile melted into a smug smirk and I held my breath in anticipation, ready to accept anything the man had in store for me. But instead of returning to me, he pulled back once more, the hands on my hips now almost bruising.

In a split of a second I found myself flipped over. My front hit the table with a big clank, almost sending the poor piece of furniture to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. Hoseok released a big breath, one hand pushing at the small of my back and keeping me pinned down, while the other started a slow journey up the outside of my thigh.

His teasing fingers at first only lightly grazed underneath the skirt, caressing the sensitive yearning skin before finally pushing the clothing out of the way, completely exposing my panties clad ass to the room. I shivered slightly, but the temperature was comfortable and I was only filled with overwhelming waves of lust and eagerness.

Hoseok’s hand gently caressed the skin for a moment, sometimes kneading and grabbing at the meat of my ass and lulling me into a false sense of security, before abruptly pulling back and landing a harsh slap on the right cheek. I gasped out a choked moan, whole body jerking forward with the force until my hips barrelled straight into the table. A loud bang of the table taking the hit combined with my noise of pleasure sounded through the room in a strange yet satisfying cacophony.

In this position I could clearly see Yoongi lounging back on the sofa watching us with dark eyes, hands flexing on the tie holding my bound wrists. His eyes jumped to mine the second his friend started administering the chosen punishment, something predatory swimming in them at my reaction. In that moment he felt more like a beast than a man, and one that wanted to eat me whole. The thought made me shudder, but in the best way possible.

I was quite sure that my own eyes must have been dazed and hazy with lust, as I could barely see through the film of pleasure blinding me, and Yoongi seemed to love that more than anything.

“Give her another, Hobi,” he encouraged the dark-haired man, and I realised he was probably monitoring whether I was okay as much as enjoying the view.

But all thoughts of anything flew right out of my mind the moment Hoseok’s hand descended onto me again, this time to the left side. The shock of pain ran through me like a zap of electricity, melting into pleasure as soon as it hit my bloodstream. The vision of Yoongi in front of me blurred as my eyes rolled back, a strangled moan releasing into the tensed air between us.

The next four spanks came quickly one right after the other, alternating between the cheeks and leaving behind stinging buzzing skin, more sensitive with every touch. I felt the burn there, and the ache of my hips continuously ramming into the wooden table also kept reminding me my position. But I didn’t care, too busy trying to dampen down my increasingly more high-pitch desperate groans and moans, before I embarrassed myself too much.

The wetness building up between my thighs was almost embarrassing, and I started to worry any moment I would start dripping down my legs just over a few spanks, and then Hoseok would never let me live it down.

Speaking of the devil, the man switched again to gently caressing the reddened tender area, humming lowly in his throat. I slumped onto the table, whining and whimpering at every soft swipe of his hand, every delicate pinch and handful he grabbed. Yoongi was smirking at me, but stayed silent, giving his friend all the space to do whatever he wanted.

“Look at you, being such a good girl now,” he purred slowly behind me, pushing his erection into my clothed core once more and teasing me with the hardened bump griding into me. The sudden realisation that I was wet enough for squelches to be heard with his tight thrusts hit me square in the chest and pushed another pathetic moan out of my throat. His hands once again pinned me down by my hips, making sure I wasn’t squirming underneath him and wouldn’t try to grind back at him, but I heard him groaning under his breath when he realised the same thing as well.

“All I had to do was spank you a little and put you in your place, and suddenly you’re all out of smart remarks,” Hoseok continued smugly (if a little breathlessly), hips smoothly riding me. I could hear his little sighs and half-moans with every thrust, obviously more desperate for relief than he was trying to let on.

I wanted to speak back to him, but my mind was blank, filled only with thoughts of his cock and his hands on me. Opening my mouth, only thing that was able to come out were strangled groans, and I worried I might start drooling soon too. And even if I did manage to speak, no doubt the only thing I’d be able to formulate would be pleas for Hoseok to stuff me full of his cock and fuck me dumb.

Yoongi was watching me with amusement, like I was pathetic, and the humiliation was burning through me and heightening everything I was already feeling.

“Aw, look at her hyung,” Hoseok continued, “can’t even speak now.” The older man hummed in satisfaction, tugging lightly on the tie and jostling me into paying more attention to the interaction. I put the last strains of brain power into talking back, the final try before I would be too lost and cock drunk.

“So pleased with yourselves, aren’t you boys,” the words came out of my mouth slightly slurred, but the cheeky lilt was still clearly detectable, and I chuckled tiredly, shimmying under Hoseok’s firm hands to try and get his cock closer to me.

To which the man swiftly reacted by pulling his hips away and instead bending over me. I felt the feather-light brushes of his shirt over the exposed parts of my back, but Hoseok never came any closer – not enough to feel his skin, only to have the feverish warmth of his body seep slowly into me from above.

“Be careful what you say, pretty,” his low voice warned me, the words delivered a touch too sensually to fully register in my mind, “that is, if you wanna get fucked tonight.”

“How many spanks did you get, princess?” Yoongi’s question came before my hazy brain could even fully process Hoseok’s warning, but I managed to choke out the answer, muddled mind going through the sharp delicious impacts to my skin.

Both men hummed, pleased that I kept track even without being told to. Hoseok finally lowered himself onto me, chest plastered to my back, skin pasted to skin by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Now, I was considering letting you off with six,” he murmured straight into my ear, “but it seems you do need the whole ten.” Then he was gone, only reminder of his presence was the sudden cold spot over me and the tingles running through my skin where we touched, and I shivered. My hips still pushed back needily, and he let me for a few moments, before his hand was back to caressing the throbbing red skin of my bottom.

The first spank was a fast one, delivering a more intense sting than the ones before. I gasped and braced myself, eagerly pushing my ass out and arching my back. Someone chuckled, and I had a hard time deciphering who, all my attention channelled into the two hands fondling the meat of my ass leisurely.

The press of his fingers into the burning flesh was something I swore I’d be able to remember 20 years from now, the sensation almost classifying as a life-changing event for my pathetic little brain as the anticipation of the next three spanks drove me crazy with need.

“She’s presenting nicely like a bitch in heat,” a deep voice whispered breathlessly, mockery and arousal mixing into his tone, “are we sure this is even a punishment for her?” In lieu of answer only a whiney moan left my mouth, hips shaking desperately and attempting to push back just as Hoseok delivered another sharp blow.

The last two were a little hazy for me – they came in a fast succession and immediately after the calming cooling caress of Hoseok’s hand returned, his voice soothing me with reassuring coos and purrs.

“What a good girl,” Yoongi whispered, tugging at the tie again to check on me. The praise poured over me, replenishing me body and soul like I was a thirsty traveller stumbling upon an oasis, and I slowly raised my head from the wood to blearily blink at the man. I was pretty sure there was a line of drool connecting me to the table, but I was too fried to care.

The ginger smiled at me, looking pleased more than anything, but still giving his younger friend free reign. Said man gave my bum a few more gentle pats before he helped me turn around on my back again, hooking my legs over his elbows to make it a little easier for me.

His face was flushed, a predatory grin spread over his face. I watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck and plunge down the perfect almost exposed chest, and while the man’s hair was all messy from our previous kissing, lips red from the lipstick I wore, his clothes were still firmly in place.

He was watching me with such overwhelming desire I almost melted right on the spot, the full force of my arousal making itself known in a single burst of fire. Suddenly the wetness in my panties became nigh unbearable, and my pussy fruitlessly clenched and oozed more juice in hopes of getting stuffed soon. And with Hoseok’s cock so close to my centre I was going even more mad with it.

“What do we think, baby? Have we learnt our lesson?” he asked me in a cheery voice, the taunting lilt provoking me and pushing my heated brain into overdrive to come up with a swift comeback. In the end I let the lust override the reason and blurted out what I really wanted.

“We think,” I started, my voice all breathless with a little rasp, “that maybe you should bury your pretty face in my cunt.” Immediately after those words tumbled out of me, a blush overtook my face in unexpected shyness. Even now I was still getting embarrassed – I’ve never bratted this much to anyone and I’ve certainly never said those exact words before – it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Hoseok tsked at me and then looked to the older man while lightly shaking his head in faux disappointment.

“Oh dear, I think it’s only making her mouthier,” some darker breathier excitement crept into his voice, and it had me alerted in an instant, “what do we do, hyung?” The beastly smirk Yoongi gave in response felt like a bucket of ice water hitting me straight into my face, and I realised that they were planning something more from the beginning and I just played straight into their hands.

“I know these types, Hoseok-ah,” the ginger played along, but he was too excited to sell it properly, “and only one thing ever seems to work on them.” With that his hand reached somewhere down the sofa and grabbed a thin black flexible stick.

A whip. He had a whip.

My mind got transported back to before they spanked me, how Yoongi seemed to hide something behind his back. I got distracted real fast after that, but this must have been it.

I’d never used it before with anyone and as much as slight nervousness set into me, it was heavily overshadowed by the rush of exhilaration. With a single look at it I felt my body jerk in response, pussy clenching and singing in praise.

“Let’s see how bratty you are when you’re too busy crying from overstimulation, princess,” debauchery dripping off of him like pouring rain, pelting me right in my weakest points and leaving me gasping and breathless. I very much did want to see that.

A loud snapping of fingers had me whirling my head back to Hoseok who wore a serious expression, only getting emphasised by the obvious lust swirling in his blackened orbs.

“Colour, baby?” he rasped out, hands kneading the meat of my thighs slowly, in a hypnotising loop of thrills. I swallowed with some difficulty, getting steadily pulled into his intense gaze.

“G-green,” I stuttered out, buckling under the sudden aura these two were exuding, like I only now realised that I was in the presence of two domineering men. The slight hesitation before my answer was noticed as well, and while I was merely taking my time to know surely this is something I wanted, the men seemed to be worried by it.

“You sure?” Hoseok enquired again, mellowing out the rough touch into a gentle caress to make me more comfortable. I nodded, hurriedly and a tad too excitedly, drawing a chuckle from Yoongi still sitting behind me.

“Yes. Green,” I repeated, this time firmer and surer to chase away any doubts they could have. Yoongi’s hand started a slow path along the sensitive inside of my arm, his energy shifting into something more predatory and tangible, making sure I was aware of him.

“Have you ever played with a whip before, princess?” the ginger drawled out sensuously, amusement evident in his tone. I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way Hoseok’s face crumbled back into lust.

“No…” the word slipped out of my mouth in a whisper. It almost felt like both of them were holding their breath for something, something that was escaping me in my scrambled state.

“Are you excited to try?” came the next question, now feeling Yoongi lightly nose at my wrists, just shy of kissing there, making me shudder under the sensation. I just breathlessly nodded, not having the strength to actually find my voice. The ginger snickered and smacked a loud kiss to one of my wrists.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll go easy on you,” he whispered the promise and then pulled away again, gesturing at Hoseok to do what he wanted. The dark-haired man happily giggled and immediately grabbed my thighs, spreading them without much preamble.

I squeaked in surprise, hands jerking to go cover myself, but they got tugged back into Yoongi’s lap. Hoseok paid me no mind though, and didn’t waste time in putting his lips to the smooth skin near my ankle, showing off with loud wet kisses trailing quickly down.

As he was descending down my legs, his quick skilful hands found their way beneath my skirt (that was barely covering anything anyway) and started tugging at my panties, dragging them up my thighs to take them off. The wet spot spanned almost the entire seat of the panties and the size of it would be more embarrassing if I didn’t see the way Hoseok’s eyes rolled back at the sight, the excitement rushing through his body on a shudder. At the same time a veiny knuckley hand descended onto me from behind and tugged my crop up to release my tits from my bra.

Before I knew it Hoseok was bending over and had his face buried in my cunt while the handy little whip was teasingly circling one of my nipples. I barely managed to gasp out, drowning under sudden barrage of sensations and body growing confused under the different stimulations.

The dark-haired man started enthusiastically licking around my drenched folds, swiftly attaching himself to my clit and sucking with loud slurps, hands tightening on my thighs and keeping them thrown over his shoulders. The zap of pleasure hit me like a tank and I arched, mouth opening on a silent moan – and Yoongi, the bastard that he was, chose that exact moment to raise the whip and slap one of my nipples enough that it stung a little.

The desperate cry that left my mouth was almost unrecognisable from my voice, but it wasn’t a negative noise – quite the opposite, if the rush of slick that hit Hoseok’s hungry mouth still latched onto my pussy was anything to go by. The man groaned, debauched and dark eyes rolling back into his skull, before redoubling his efforts and wildly licking and sucking at the swollen lips and clit, slowly working his tongue around my hole and pushing in.

While my body tried to cope with the flood of liquid fire from Hoseok’s eager ministrations, my brain was continuously stuttering under the stinging sensation of Yoongi’s whip slapping my nipples in a seemingly whimsical manner. The man of course, once he caught wind of my obvious interest, didn’t hold back and used the little tool to alternatingly caress and lightly smack both of my breasts.

The dual stimulation made my brain melt quick, and soon I found myself to be a drooling moaning mess under the ministrations of two eager demons. I was teetering on the edge of cumming, the heat and pleasure accumulating in my lower belly until it was dangerously close to consuming me whole; and with every little suck on my clit and another hit from the whip I jerked a little closer to it snapping.

But it wouldn’t be them if they didn’t play with me a little, and every time Hoseok felt me nearing the edge he pulled off, roughly biting into the meat of my thighs to distract me with more delicious pain while watching his hyung distribute his own discipline on me.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” he moaned helplessly into my skin finally, hand migrating to grab and fondle the bursting tent in his black slacks, groaning in relief immediately.

“Go ahead Hob-ah, have your fun,” Yoongi purred from the couch, the warmed leather of the whip now trying to soothe the sting with gentle caresses. The man didn’t even answer verbally, only let himself slump into me with a loud moan.

Once again he wasted no time, hands scurrying to undo his pants. He quickly shucked of his blouse, revealing the beautiful smooth muscled torso he hid beneath. I only had a moment to fully sink in the beauty of his arms stretching as he pulled his top off before his trousers were pushed down his hips. Sinking all the way to his knees, Hoseok paid them no more attention as he started hurriedly fisting his flushed red cock just begging for release.

Reminiscent of my reaction to getting spanked, I was unwittingly spreading my legs and arching off the table to offer up my pussy to him on a silver platter. The sinful smirk he gave in response made me even wetter (if that was possible), and I released a series of high needy moans.

“Look at our baby, all mute and docile now,” Hoseok teased, smirking up a smug storm, somehow regaining some semblance of a composure. I couldn’t find it in myself to reply, brain mush and hole wet and needy, so I just moaned again. It was so much easier to let myself ride the wave, to let all thoughts slip away and give myself over into their skilful hands – I felt no more need to sass back, I just wanted to cum. The two men giggled, and I heard a tearing of a foil packet, redirecting my dazed eyes towards Hoseok just to see him putting on a condom.

Anticipation ran through me, my horny mind recognising that I would be getting cock inside of me soon, needy cunt clenching and gushing desperately. Hoseok started pushing in practically immediately, impatient and wanting, and I was so wet and ready for him that he sunk in without a problem on the first stroke, pushing a helpless groan out of the man immediately.

I hadn’t even stopped moaning yet when Hoseok pulled back and thrust back in, overriding my senses with burning pleasure – it felt like my brain was buffering and short-circuiting under the never-ending overwhelming sensations. I finally felt so deliciously full, and it scratched something deep inside me, body catching up quickly and erupting into mindless ecstasy. After a few experimental strokes he set a speedy pace, desperately pumping his hips into me, jostling me on the table. If he wasn’t gripping onto my thighs so tightly, I’d probably find myself sliding up with the force of his lust, while the dark-haired man lost himself to my wet heat.

The moans spilled out of him freely, bronze sweaty body rippling with the movements and teasing some abs. When I managed to take control of myself and perceive anything through my own desperate staccato moans and gasps, I saw the man’s hazy gaze, unfocused eyes glazed over with ecstasy. It made my own lust mount immeasurably, building on my previous almost-there orgasm and throwing me headfirst into heady bliss. The scorching heat gathering deep in my core spilled over shocks of fire through my bloodstream, getting more intense with every stroke, with every time his tip bumped into the magic spot inside of me and made me shudder, so close to release I could almost taste it on my fucking tongue.

Tugging on my hands alerted me to Yoongi’s presence, the stagnant whip now moving again, teasingly making its way across my chest and tummy, here or there thumping down lightly to keep me on my toes. I heard his purred-out hums and rumbles at my eager reactions even through Hoseok’s groans and gasps, even through the wet slapping of skin on skin as he pumped into me wildly.

Just when I got used to the feeling of the leather travelling across my skin, Yoongi distributed four quick slaps, alternating between my nipples. The impact made me jerk in surprise before the delectable mix of pleasure and pain caught up to me and poured through my veins and nerves and I cried out on a moan. I felt my body spasm, cunt clenching and trapping Hoseok’s cock into the warm pulsating walls. A loud desperate moan cut through the room, the dark-haired man’s hips stuttered into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch inside of me – and it drove me fucking insane with need, my hungry wet cunt attempting to suck him deeper and deeper in mindless lust that overrode all rhyme and reason.

His face spoke of inconceivable bliss, screwed into a grimace of a man on the brink of glory, red and sweaty with mouth hanging open, and breathing hard. He stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath, his cock lodged inside of me begging for release. For few long seconds we exchanged exhausted but content smiles before Yoongi became tired of being ignored.

His whip suddenly smacked my tummy, making me clench again and in succession torturing Hoseok further as he tried to stave off his oncoming orgasm. Our breaths hitched at the same time, our gazes trained to the little black tool slowly sliding down to my cunt. It seemed that both of us had an inkling as to what Yoongi was planning – considering Hoseok’s wink and winning smirk towards his older friend while I was filled with dark anticipation, gaze glued to the sight of it rising right above my mound and coming down almost in slow-motion.

The first smack to my clit almost made me cum on the spot, all the accumulated pleasure bursting in a blinding jolt making my body contort. Hoseok’s hips jumped forward, answering the endless squeezing of my cunt with breathless moans. I thought I heard Yoongi chuckle, but I wasn’t sure through the ringing in my ears.

And then everything disappeared, melted out of my head in a barrage of moans full of honeyed lust as he started slapping my clit, swiftly, in a way that made it sting but the outpouring of achey pleasure that made everything staticky and muffled was worth it thousand times. The continuous feeling of a nearing climax mounting in me was overwhelming me, sending my thighs into fits of tremors.

Hoseok started up his pace again – unable to deny himself any longer and fucking into me hard and quick, obviously chasing his high and helplessly losing to the tidal wave about to swallow him whole. As the stimulation of his cock drilling into me and barrelling into my g-spot returned, even through the fog in my mind I knew I was a goner. The wet squelch of my pussy seemed to intensify, signalling the oncoming beast of a climax too.

Yoongi also kept up his antics, periodically bringing the whip down straight onto my clit and making me jerk and cry pathetically under them (though Hoseok seemed pretty lost too). My hands were pulled over to his lap and in my plight I grabbed onto his thigh to gain at least some stable point. I felt his hand briefly squeeze mine in support, the tender touch calming my beating heart a bit. I screwed my eyes shut, head thrown back and body thrumming, just waiting for the final push.

But then Yoongi was back to his agenda, delivering few hard quick hits down onto my clit. My body tensed up, shaking and right on the brink of a powerful orgasm and head full of cotton and buzzing. Hoseok was also losing his mind, hips accelerating and balls drawing in tight, and I knew he was about to cum as well.

All it took was the sensation of Hoseok thrusting in hard a few more times before he burst, cock throbbing uncontrollably as he came with a piercing cacophony of high-pitched moans, and Yoongi smacking down one last time before my whole body locked, then everything exploded in me and I was suddenly cumming so hard I was surprised I didn’t simply burst into pieces. Distantly I was aware that I was screaming out, but everything was muted through the humming and ringing in my ears, eyes rolled back into my skull rendering me blind. I jerked with the waves of pleasure, warmth pumping into me from all directions and pushing me deeper into a dark fog, pulling me under the endless billows of scorching honeyed nectar spreading through me.

It rocked me whole, thighs and hips shaking while Hoseok desperately grasped at me going through the shockwaves as well, still unwittingly pumping into me to ride out the wave. The added sting of overstimulation prolonged everything and made it sharper, making my toes curl with the mind-numbing pleasure.

When the high started ebbing away, I felt drugged, or on the verge of blackout drunk – eyes barely able to keep open, unseeing through the film over them, face wet with drool and tears. I didn’t feel fully in my body, like I was floating above the table and saw the whole world through cotton candy.

Hoseok was saying something, but his words were slurred as well and I could barely hear anyway. He slumped over me, hips finally calm, and by the bonelessness of his form it could be judged that he went through similarly intense experience. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of sweat that was pouring off of us, of our chests rising in tandem trying to catch our breaths and failing at it desperately.

There was some shuffling and then my arms were released, the tie binding them together gone – but they still immediately flopped down, no strength in them left. Someone pressed their face close to mine, ginger locks coming into my view but not fully connecting as I was still out of it, fighting off sleep.

But then Hoseok started moving, pulling away from me and out of my pussy, and I was jostled from the floaty space somewhere in between, slowly settling back into my bones and feeling the content ache still overriding all of my nerves.

The sound slowly came in and I realised that Yoongi was actually gently whispering praises into me, kissing softly along my neck and jawline while “such a good girl” and “took it so well” slipped out of his mouth on a murmur.

I moved my head just enough to see the dark-haired man collapse onto the carpet, half slumped into the leg of the sofa, grinning at me all doped out and still half naked with his pants undone. Yoongi quietly prowled over to the other side of the table, for the first time since we came here putting himself into my direct line of sight. And while his touch stayed respectful and soothing, his starving eyes ate up my messy wet swollen pussy like it was his last meal.

But then instead of touching me more he leaned over for some discarded clothing item, lightly dragging it down my thighs to clean up the juices that got all over me while Hoseok was fucking me. My eyes naturally slipped to the unmissable bulge tenting his black jeans (he must have taken off his hoodie somewhere during the session) and I couldn’t hold back the whine, brain still not quite capable of putting my thoughts together in a civilised manner.

In that moment it was simply unconceivable to me that he’d be left without release, and in a split moment I stubbornly made up my mind that I needed to make him cum, right there right that instant. But the man was cleaning me up, that was simply terrible!

Another whine, this time more desperate and forlorn, finally tore Yoongi from his chore and he gave me a soft smile, worriedly looking at me to ascertain what was wrong.

“What’s up, baby? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, and I whined again, frustrated with myself that it took me such an effort to put together a simple sentence, but finally I managed to sweat it out.

“Wanna make you cum,” I whimpered pathetically, and the man was split between smug smirks and kind smiles – obviously still horny out of his mind but thinking that he shouldn’t push me.

“You’re such a good girl angel, wanting to take care of me, but I can manage,” Yoongi tried to soften the rejection as much as possible, afraid I would take it badly while I was in a fragile state. But thankfully I was steadily regaining all of my abilities again, and I squirmed on the poor little table that went through all this with me.

“Green,” I stated firmly, looking him in the eye, still somewhat dazed but much more present, “Please fuck me too, Yoongi, please. Wanna feel you cum. Want you to use me as a toy.” The compassionate care-taking look immediately drained out of his eyes, and for the first time I was hit with the full force of his arousal. His dark blown-out pupils starvingly regarded me, hands now giving up on the cloth and instead slowly making their way to my stomach and waist.

“Well,” the ginger whispered sensually, “since you’re begging so nicely…” My cunt clenched at those words, slowly coming back alive and contracting almost painfully in such feral anticipation it left me breathless. The prospect of having him buried inside of me hilt-deep was enough to almost make me drool again, and I spread my legs more to him.

Yoongi’s gaze was trained on my chest though, hands reverently kneading the skin on their way up until he grasped my tits, letting out a staggered sigh. But as soon as he got there he flinched away, pulling himself away to fling his shirt off, hands excitedly tearing at his pants and getting them off as quickly as was humanly possible.

“I swear to god I normally put more care into foreplay, but I’m about to fucking explode,” Yoongi breathed out apological, snatching the condom Hoseok leaned over to give him and without wasting any time pulling it onto his throbbing red cock with a hiss of relief.

I only nodded, eyes too busy sliding over his naked torso and admiring his pretty tits and slim waist. He could probably stick it right in now and wouldn’t meet a shadow of resistance, my cunt was so nicely slicked up and fucked out, so ready and hungry for him it was basically begging to get railed.

Still the man leaned over me as he shuffled closer, putting himself firmly between my thighs and pressing his length into my slit while be busied himself licking and mouthing over my tits. His body was curled over me nicely, damp skin pressed into damp skin and driving the temperature even higher, making me feel small and safe under him, and my hands grabbed onto him, desperately whining and pulling him closer.

With a soft groan he finally folded and reached between us, grabbing himself and guiding his cock into my awaiting cunt – and I was right – I was so wet I swallowed him all up and he slid all in on the first try. He was thicker than Hoseok (even though not as long) and hit all the right spots on the way in. I released a pleased little sigh, basking in the feeling of being full again, but the man was in considerably worse shape.

Unlike Hoseok’s unabashed high moans, Yoongi was full of gruff drawn-out groans and gasps while his hips jumped on their own, starting up a slow grind to curb the edge of the surmounting pleasure.

“Fuck baby, this won’t last long at all,” the man giggled somewhat shyly, planting his face right into the crook of my neck to kiss there as he tried to prolong the experience for as long as possible. I released my own little breathless snicker, and that had Yoongi giving me a chastising look, raising an eyebrow at me in signal that he was still ready to put me in my place if I chose to brat out. I didn’t, only gave him a blissed-out smile and rolled my hips with a sigh.

Yoongi only hummed, and I almost expected him to start up some smartass monologuing, but then he was thrusting forward, hard and deep, and it knocked all thoughts out of my mind. The ginger man’s style was completely different from the fucking I received before him – he started up with a slow but rough pace, focusing on jerking into me forcefully and sliding as far as my body would allow instead on quickness.

While Hoseok’s fucking was a chaotic hot mess of quick-paced rough sex that left me breathless, Yoongi plastered himself to me and went unhurriedly but on every heavy thrust imprinted himself deeper and deeper into my core and fully overwhelmed my senses. The ringing in my ears started up again, and I was already overheating with the gooey ball of fire forming in my belly. I felt dizzy and hazy, my little moans and sighs getting cut off midway with the power behind Yoongi’s hips.

He played me masterfully, gradually speeding up, at first not fast enough to have me notice but to have my nerves overloaded with a mounting surge of pleasure. Then he ended it all. With a smirk that I would have found insufferable in any other circumstance (or if I was more present and not losing my mind on a cock) his hand lazily dragged up my tummy, up my chest, teasingly squeezing a tit on the way, before it settled on my neck. Game over town.

I froze, tensing underneath the man, and then I melted, stretching my head away and offering up my neck all he wanted with a whimper and a whine. And with a chuckle he used it all to his advantage, dear god that he did.

“Let’s go back to our roots, princess,” he whispered meanly straight into my ear, naughty lips brushing the shell of my ear while his hand tightened a touch, “isn’t this what you asked for those two weeks ago?” A barrage of moans spilled out of my slack mouth, my mind already burning with the anticipation of the tight hold of his beautiful strong hands.

Yoongi seemed to have pulled himself together a little for the purpose of teasing this out for a little longer, though both of us were already running full speed towards the finish line.

He straightened out, looming over me darkly with hungry eyes as his hand slowly tightened around my neck, lightly squeezing the sides to give me the rush of adrenaline. Any noise that would have barrelled out of my hoarse throat got cut off and I got light-headed fast, with all the sensations running through me with the flow of oxygen significantly lessened pushing me into an almost out of body experience.

The ginger man picked up his pace, delivering rough hard deep thrusts, eyes hazy and reflecting just how close he was to his own climax. I felt his dick throb and twitch as it rammed into my sweet spot, practically pushing both of us into the beginning stages of overstimulation because neither of us could hold on for much longer.

Hoseok still leisurely sat by us, leaning into the sofa and watching everything unfold half naked, underwear back on but pants still wide open and chest on full display. His eyes were darkened in interest, but he looked proper sated and only enjoying the show as a bystander. I noticed the dark-haired man’s eyes glued to the hand on my neck, eating up the desperate expression on my face and the flush spreading over me whole, like he was filing it all into his memory for a rainy day.

A quick slap to the side of my thigh brought my attention back to the man that was currently railing me into the next week, and he tsked at me with mocking mischievous eyes when he saw me flushing under him in embarrassment.

“Pay attention to me princess,” he hissed breathlessly, “you can ogle Hobi later.” That had his friend chuckling and he shuffled closer, settling in behind me. One of his hands slid softly into my hair only to grab roughly and pull my head back, adding the sting of pain to my already overloaded brain trying to keep up with the periodic tightening and loosening of Yoongi’s hand on my throat and the onslaught of pleasure from his cock. He kept my head in place as he leaned in close and started whispering sweetly into my ears.

All praises, good girl, doing so good, you’re perfect and more, all spilling from his beautiful lips like caramel candy and melting over me, sinking me deeper into staticky molases-like headspace.

“That’s right, what a good girl,” Yoongi reiterated, mumbling the praises with a heavy tongue, he himself slipping into the cosmic pull of the promised high, “take what you need, pretty girl, let go.”

And I did.

The build up of the orgasm creeped up on me – there was no monumental wave, no big crash, only slowly rising tide pulling me deeper and deeper without me realising how close I was to getting pulled under.

The constant stimuli of the Yoongi’s hips barrelling into mine, slapping into my clit and filling me so deliciously I wanted to scream and growl, my body wanted to twist under the pleasure but he kept me in place, not giving me any other choice but to lie still and take the endless cycle of lust and ecstasy, his hand squeezing my neck whenever he pleased, letting his presence known and pushing me into the table, forcing me back into the cotton candy hum as my oxygen deprived brain desperately fought to keep up.

I let it all wash over me, fully trying to feel all the sensations at once and getting hit with the flood of good good good oh god yes god yes please until I was screaming under them, body convulsing and cunt clenching on him one last time before I released all. The relief of the orgasm was immense and I went slack almost immediately while my thighs shook around Yoongi, the slick squelch of my pussy intensifying with every helpless pump.

Distantly I realised my own screams and moans while my body shook with the waves and aftershocks, until I went ragdoll on them and nothing but pure satisfaction and contentment flowed through me, mind completely scrambled.

Yoongi released his hold on me, instead hauling my legs over his shoulders and pressing my thighs to his abdomen, hips kicking up in pace. I twitched under him, pussy sore and sensitive but still willing to receive him in all his glory.

I heard the hitches in Yoongi’s breathing, both me and Hoseok watching him from below as he blindly chased after his climax knowing he’s so close it was palpable in the air.

Then a few rough pumps later the man suddenly pulled out, hand tearing the condom away and hurriedly jerking his red angry cock until he was twitching and spilling all over the back of my thighs. I felt his hot cum hit my heated skin and my cunt clenched so hard it was almost painful; at that moment I thanked god it wasn’t enough to get me going again, because I didn’t think I could handle another round.

Yoongi was still grunting and groaning breathlessly, one hand supporting him on the table while he attempted to catch his breath while Hoseok gently caressed my arms and hair to help me come down from everything.

I was too tired to think about anything, I just wanted to sink into their warmth and let them lull me to comfortable sleep. I let them manhandle me into a better position to be cleaned up, but I grumbled the whole time, already halfway unconscious and annoyed at being jostled from the soft floaty space somewhere above this plane of existence.

To their credit, they both tried their best to move me as slowly as possible, both softly cooing at me and giving out praises easily, but I ended up blinking the tiredness out of my eyes anyway and my brain cleared up. I still ate it all up and played up my grumbling to their great amusement.

Moments later I found myself wrapped in Yoongi’s black oversized hoodie, lying down on a comfortable soft blanket on the carpet with a pillow stuffed between my head and arm, while the men cuddled up to me from both sides. Something thin and cool was thrown over all of us, not exactly a blanket, but enough to give me the feel of not being completely exposed.

“You should let your friends know you’re okay,” Yoongi whispered, Hoseok sleepily humming from my other side, and before I could complain whinily about not knowing where my phone is, he was pressing it into my clumsy uncoordinated hands. I mumbled my thanks and blinked through the sudden ray of light cutting straight into my eyes. Blindly I clicked on the chat and wrote something half passing as a reassurement.

Petty bitch: mission accomplished sleeping over

With that I was completely dead to the world – all snuggled up into a lightly snoring Hoseok while Yoongi’s hand tenderly caressed up and down my side, not even realising an immediate answer came through.

Pink nightmare: atta girl :*

“Jesus fucking christ, I might have as well gotten run over by a truck,” were the first words tumbling out of my lips that morning when Hoseok shook me awake mumbling something about putting my clothes on.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but at least the dark-haired man seemed to be similarly ruffled as he tried to stretch out groaning, face puffy and tired. He still giggled at my words though, and helped me stand up.

I did try to put my clothes on, but none of my limbs were cooperating and I ended up fumbling around like a newborn giraffe until Hoseok took pity on me and pulled my clothes on for me as I steadied myself on his shoulder. He was laughing at me the whole time, to which I replied by smacking him repeatedly while whining that this was all their fault.

As we stumbled back into the club area hand in hand, I finally got a glimpse of the ginger man, who was standing by the bar laughing around with a tired but still happy looking Tae. They seemed to be counting last night’s profit and the ginger bastard looked completely fine, a total one eighty from the two of us making our way over in snail’s pace.

Tae saw us first and the smirk he gave us was so shit-eating even I was considering slapping it off his face (a sentiment which seemed to be returned by Hoseok whole-heartedly). Yoongi’s laugh joined into the fray, and we just stood there and listened to them be greatly amused by the state of us.

“Holy shit hyung! What the fuck did you do to them?” exclaimed the other barkeep, a small thin guy with a pretty face and cutesy vibe, who was cackling like the devil himself when Hoseok glared at him, one arm still pulled around me like we were leaning on each other to stand (we might have been, honestly I was still pretty much asleep).

“Shut it Jimin-ah, I might still decide to keep the bonus to myself,” the man by my side threatened with no real heat behind it, and thus was promptly ignored by all three other occupants of the club while they entertained themselves by snickering at us.

Yoongi slowly walked over, face melting into something a little softer as he took us in, the slightest bit of worry worming onto his face. “You both okay, right?” he whispered to us, one hand squeezing my arm and other squeezing Hoseok’s. I snickered right back at him, amused by how he was trying to not show his tender side.

“Yeah, don’t worry, just half asleep on my feet,” I replied loudly, earning some chuckles from the two young guys at the bar, but they did seem quite used to their hyung’s shenanigans.

He lightly squeezed my shoulder before letting go, more serious gaze sent towards his business partner and friend, which had Hoseok sobering up pretty quickly.

“I’m sorry princess, we’d love to have a breakfast, but unfortunately we have a meeting with a potential partner,” Yoongi explained apologetically, and Hoseok groaned next to me, crumbling into my shoulder and loudly fake crying.

“I completely forgot about that,” he whinily complained, arms snaking around my waist like I was his personal emotional support stuffed animal (well, I was stuffed just a few hours prior, soo…), “I’ll have to go shower and change home and it’s across the whole city.” Yoongi looked unimpressed and pulled him from my side, the man pouting and blinking at him in an attempt to garner sympathy.

“Come on Seok-ah, Kookie’s here to drive us and my place is closer,” the ginger man murmured, trying to placate him – and it worked. Whoever this Kookie was, Hoseok brightened right up at the mention of him and started happily skipping towards the exit.

There was some booing and disgruntled “you’re never this happy about seeing me hyung!” screaming from behind the bar, but all fell on deaf ears as Yoongi started pulling me after the man and I barely even managed to shout my goodbyes.

“Kookie’ll get you home, pretty girl,” he promised with a tender smile, looking so kind and gentle it was almost a whiplash from the predatory smirk and sharp eyes from yesterday. Hoseok was already on the street hanging off of a laughing tattooed man.

His name was Jungkook I learnt, and he was pretty cool and obviously loved both men as his brothers, as the teasing and jokes flew between them the whole ride. Yoongi and Hoseok requested to be dropped off first, so I sat squeezed between them in the backseat while I bickered with Jungkook about the best drama currently running on TV.

Once out of car at the given address, both the men suddenly did seem quite in a hurry, but neither of them left without a hug, a kiss and some naughty words exchanged sneakily while their hands possessively grabbed at me unwilling to part.

“Keep the hoodie, princess,” Yoongi said finally, pulling Seok away and pointing at the clothing I forgot I was still wearing, “You can return it to me next time.” They both winked at me and with that, they were gone – disappearing into a very nice high-rise building in a posh neighbourhood.

With a bit of shame and still blushing from their displays of affection I told Jungkook my own address and he took me there gladly, even though he was teasing me about his hyungs the whole time.

It was all over too soon – before I knew I was standing in front of my quite average building, waving off Jungkook as he drove off god knows where, feeling quite happy even if a little lonely after spending the night with the two men.

His promise of seeing me again kept me warm though, and I reached in my handbag to pull out my keys – only for a little piece of paper to fall out. I bent over and took a look at it before bursting out laughing.

Min Yoongi +82 145-5286-036, Jung Hoseok +82 634-1654-220

Those sly bastards.

divider from @saradika-graphics <3

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl: Part 2

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fremen!Reader

Summary: The potential wife of any future Baron must prove herself by surviving in the arena before the current Baron will permit the marriage. In this case, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants a wife, and he might have just found a woman capable of meeting that challenge.

Notes/Warnings (for this part): cursing, lack of fighting technique knowledge, subtle reference to the thought of suicide, Dune inaccuracies and typos.

Words: 1700

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Part 1 (Here)

Feyd POV

Feyd stands aside in his uncle’s room, one hand clasping the other’s wrist behind his back as the Baron emerges from his bath with a groan, inky liquid streaking down his face. 

“Nephew” he begins without glancing in Feyd’s direction, “I hear you’ve found yourself a potential bride.”

Feyd’s lips thin. The Baron has his spies but they are not likely to be the responsible party when it comes to informing the Baron of your presence on Giedi Prime mere hours after arriving. “Rabban?”

“Just as you watch your brother, your brother watches you,” the Baron confirms. “A Fremen woman?”

Feyd takes a moment to consider everything Rabban might know, hoping, at least, that he isn’t aware you were assigned a handful of guards willing to be discrete and your own room rather than a dank cell. The Baron would never allow special treatment of a potential bride and it’s best he remains unaware of Feyd’s plans to keep you nourished and well taken care of. 

“She can win,” Feyd says. 

“And is that your only reason for wanting this one?”

There are a handful of reasons why he wants you. You’re beautiful, perhaps more so with that split lip; you’re respected, as shown by the outburst of your fellow Fedaykin a day prior; and of most value to Feyd: you aren’t afraid of him. You don’t back down from a challenge, even if that challenge is as trivial as seeing who will be the first to break their stare. You’re the only woman he’s seen who might survive the Trial. There was no chance he was going to let you go. 

“If I marry her, she can convince the Fremen to cease their efforts against us,” he tells his uncle, though it is a reason far from the priority of Feyd’s motivations and far from likely. Your people do not surrender so easily. “We can do our work on Arrakis without interference.”

This Baron’s thick fingers stroke the underside of his chubby chin as he contemplates, but Feyd knows it’s a strategic ruse. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen never lets immediate interest show, lest he give up the control he possesses over his nephews who answer to him and him alone. He has not once agreed to a request without having the suspense of being denied hanging in the air.

“Two weeks,” the Baron finally responds. “Enough time to inform all of Giedi Prime of a Marriage Trial.” 

Relief washes over Feyd, despite already expecting the agreement from his uncle. The Baron loves to watch the slaughtering of potential brides, and while the opportunity to manage spice production on Arrakis without a fuss is enticing, of equal value is the entertainment of such high stakes resting on the life of one woman—a woman his nephew wants to marry.

Regardless of whether or not you die, the Baron believes he will have a victory. But Feyd is not going to be the fool his brother is, who selects brides on lust alone and sends them into the arena unable to hold a sword above their heads. He’s going to keep you alive. He is going to marry you. And then he’ll deal with the repercussions of prematurely promising a truce that’s unlikely to occur.

—

Reader POV

“Go again.”

“Fuck off,” you spit through your heaves. His last hit to your back shot the air right out of your lungs and it’s all you have not to collapse to the floor of his training room. 

“They are not going to fuck off,” he says as he circles you, deft fingers casually flipping his knife at his side. 

You hate him for waking you at one in the morning for the seventh day in a row, and that hatred has only grown seeing how he doesn’t break a sweat while you’re thoroughly worn out. It’s humbling if you’re honest, but irritating more than anything. You’ve single-handedly taken down more Harkonnens in one fight than any other Fremen, but it’s become clear that if you met Feyd-Rautha under more hostile circumstances, he would not be a guaranteed kill. For every sparing match you’ve won in your unprepared, sleep-deprived, he's won three. 

“They are fighting for their lives, too,” Feyd reminds you. “It’s six-to-one and their only job is to kill you. You have to kill all six.”

“I know,” you groan, peeling your hair from your damp face. “You’ve been saying the same damn thing for a week.”

“Because you don't care enough,” he snaps.

You care, but he takes it to another level. While he doesn't say it outright, you know you’re training to be a source of Harkonnen entertainment; to last in the arena long enough to provide a good show. You’re the equivalent of House Ezharian’s dancing girls on Erif IV but clothed in a short-sleeved shirt and elastic trousers rather than layers of dainty chiffon fabric with gemstone trim. 

When you first stepped foot on Giedi Prime, you felt the same as you imagine those women do: that life under the close thumb of another is a life of little hope for freedom, so why fight the inevitable? But Feyd hasn’t given you the choice to stop fighting; stop living. He’s had guards watching you at all hours and anything that could have been used to harm yourself was removed from your room before you even arrived.

It didn't take long to realize your only out of this life would be to die in the arena. But being butchered by Harkonnen prisoners for others’ enjoyment is perhaps the least honorable way to go, and there’s a part of you that would never forgive yourself for letting someone else take the light out of your eyes. 

Feyd comes to a stop in front of you. You steel your spine, but before you can step into your fighting stance, he lunches at you. Fucking bastard. Your blade quickly folds in front of your body to block the sharp thrust of his knife, metal clanging against metal. He smirks before slamming his fist into your side, crippling you to your knees, but just as he goes to stab into your chest, you forward-roll out of the trajectory of his weapon. You force yourself to stand and whip around to face him.

He’s on you in a half-second, so damn fast, like a shot of lightning from the sky, but you're swift and he misses you. Unfortunately, you’re more used to fighting on sand than stone, so as you leap away from his swing, you overcalculate the force of your weight and stumble. He takes the opportunity to snatch your wrist in his free hand, and his strength overpowers your attempts to jerk free. He spins you until your back is flush with his chest. One arm wraps around your waist. The other holds the blade’s edge to your throat. 

“Not good enough,” he growls in your ear. 

He holds you, his breath bleeding down your neck, muddling your brain. You can hear him thinking—Get yourself out of this, Fremen girl. So you inhale the remainder of your might, slam your foot down onto his, and jab your elbow into his ribcage. He grunts as you slip through the span of his reach. You turn and side kick his abdomen, but it’s hardly effective past causing a brief stagger.

“Higher,” he says on the exhale of a heavy breath. 

“What?”

“If you’re going for the torso, aim your kick higher,” he tells you, patting at the space between his pecs. “More likely to knock them off balance.”

You roll your eyes. You know how to fight. He knows you know how to fight. It’s why he took such an interest in you. It’s why you were kept alive to participate in the Harkonnens’ little games while the remainder of your group remained on Arrakis.

“I know,” you grumble.

“Then why didn’t you do it?” he asks. When you don’t respond, he shakes his head. “You’re skilled, but you're being sloppy.”

“Because I’m fucking tired,” you say. “And what does it matter when it's not you I’ll be fighting? I’ve killed more than six people at a time. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise that!” he shouts. The rapid change in his attitude makes you take a step back and tighten your grip on the hilt of your weapon. When he sees your knuckles whitening, he sighs and sheathes his knife. “I know the Fremen techniques, and your people never fight alone. Enemies are distracted by multiple targets and you often succeed with the element of surprise, but this time it is you—only you—that they will be after.” 

“And you think I can’t handle it.”

“I don’t get to select your opponents, so I need you to be prepared for the worst,” he tells you, moving in close and entering the ring of your personal space. Your breath quickens as your chin lifts to keep his gaze. “I want you to win this, Fremen girl. I want you to live.”

“Why?” 

“I just do,” he says.

He does not elaborate. All you hear is your alternating breaths as your eyes flick back and forth between his own. Electricity crackles in the minimal space separating your bodies—not the first time you’ve felt it from him being so close—but you don’t know what to do with it. You don’t know why you don’t hate it like you should. 

He, however, seems to enjoy it, and more so each time it catches you off guard. Physically he wants you strong, but mentally he enjoys the vulnerability that he teases out before you can conceal it.

Feyd backs away from you and reaches over his shoulder to grab the collar of his shirt, then he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, exposing pale skin and ridges of muscles. 

For a moment, your lungs refuse oxygen. “What are you doing?” 

“It’s warm in here,” he poorly justifies. There's not a single droplet of sweat on him. Then he unsheathes his knife. “Let’s go again.”

---

A/N: should be two more parts after this one. It was originally going to be one long fic, but it got too long, so I just broke it up. Thanks for reading <3

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[maidenborn]

Detective Love-struck!

Shoto x reader in which Reader discovers a love letter in her locker, and recruits deku to help her. fem reader, maybe oc deku and shoto idk, reader has an older brother, first little fanfic thingy, I haven't written in god knows how long don't burn me at the stake plz

Word count: 1,707

When you were younger, stupider and shameless, you and your only friend Shoto, would play detective during your free time together. At the age of five, you and your comrade had already solved ONE case, the infamous 'who stole older brother's motorbike?!' case, which you and shoto apparently 'took credit for' or whatever that means. Despite how much you swore to your brother how you and Shoto knew where it was before the police. And how you tipped the cops off with your super secret telepathy quirk that no one but shoto knew about.

He responded with a, "well if you're so smart why don't you figure out where my old 3DS is?? by the way, you don't have telepathic powers, forehead." You'd clench your fist every time that cursed nickname left his lips, but anyways, you accepted his challenge, walking away cursing him with the most vulgar name you could think up, telepathically of course. you swear you heard his breath stifle in shock as you stomped off, coincidence? I think not.

Your winning streak of problem solving ended with anger at your rivals, the police down the road, when they refused to let you into the station after you relentlessly demanded that they let you see the files of fifty year-old unsolved homicide case. The next day you sulked to Shoto during lunch, who stared at you with that blank stare he always does."you tried to break in again?" An accusation?!?!?!? The tipping point.

You fake-angry threw your paper cut-out detective badge, that you and your best-friend made during arts and crafts, with all your strength, only for it to slowly flutter to the ground awkwardly. That day you announced your retirement from the force. Claiming all the hard thinking was giving you wrinkles, that only caused shoto to look more confused, tilting his head to the side. "Wrinkles?"

"On my forehead." You huffed.

Your interest for the antics of detectives on tv and corny live-action crime thrillers died off as your ambition and hope to become a real life pro hero ignited, as did your connection with Shoto, even if you started to see him less frequently as the years of your childhood passed by. It was a blessing that you managed to land a place in class 1-A alongside your companion. Your bond reinvigorated, grew stronger as you were reunited with the boy, the lingering figure of his father, Endeavour had dissipated, granting the boy a newfound freedom. You found yourself spending almost all your free time with him now, way more than you ever did when you were kids. And you were grateful for it. So very grateful.

Now, both you and him had matured, albeit not a lot since you were both fifteen, but in a fifteen year olds eyes, it was a lot. The boy's once chubby cheeks now had a more slim-chiseled appearence. His head of hair was the same length, perfectly split down the middle, not one stray hair misplaced on either side. His eyes were more narrowed and stern, still fronting that blank look that his eyes always held. However hard his stare was when he looked at others, he'd never dare look at you with that coldness, whenever he caught himself glancing at you his creased brow would almost immediately flatten. His gaze defrosted into liquid, a softness so delicate and reminiscent of the early days of your relationship. The days where he'd follow you around, craving the warmth of your presence, your smile, you, and everything a five year old brat could offer. In your case, it was friendship.

You and him were two peas in a pod, Detective Shoto and his partner, Sometimes in class you'd daydream about playing detective with him, like how you used to, but you guess you both were a little too old for that now. Besides it's not like there was any mysteries to be solved in the halls of Yuuei.

Not until today.

"a love letter!?!? oh wow!" Deku shrieked a bit too loud for your liking. His whole body shook as he held onto the straps of his backpack. A few students lingering around the halls looked towards the commotion.

"Yeah but shhh!" You leaned closer to the boy pressing your finger to your lips harder and harder. " I don't want anyone to know, it's embarrassinggg! What if they're messing with me? I don't even know who wrote it! I don't wanna get my hopes up you know..." You mumbled that last part, your finger silencing yourself made it hard to talk. You've never been popular with the male species, only ever receiving confessions as jokes from more popular, less disliked, boys. Not that you minded all that, you had a best friend after all, and he was a boy! You were considered popular and you were liked by him!

You tossed your head about to shake the thought of Shoto to no avail. You felt you cheeks heat up. "Can you read it out to me? Maybe they gave a clue as to who they are!" Deku ignored the redness in your face, chalking it up to nervousness. Yeah, you were nervous alright, nervous about what Shoto would think. He's always been relentless in the pursuit of your attention, you couldn't help but wonder how he would react to all this. Would he be mad? No why would he. He has no reason for all that.

You take your time reading out the letter you found in your locker, looking up to meet Izuku's eyes after every sentence, waiting to see if he caught on to any hidden meanings written in-between the lines of the confession. You'd read the letter countless times, scanning over every word to no avail. Only deciding to drag Deku into your conundrum as he was walking past. Whoever had written the letter gave no clue towards their identity. It was just a confession. No 'can you meet me behind the school later today?' or ' will you go out with me? Just an ordinary love letter. Apart from the last section. At the bottom of the paper read a slightly threatening, ominous quote:

"I'll set your heart alight. "

The words made your chest tighten, but not in a good way. It gave you a funny feeling in your stomach, such a normal letter ending so strongly, you were kind of unsettled. "Don't you think that last parts s'a little odd?" You mentioned after finishing up reading. "Kinda sounds like a threat to me." You suddenly gasp, "What if our undercover lover is a villain! They could be plotting to kidnap me ..or worse!" Due to recent events, everyone had the possibility of kidnapping looming over them.

" Umm.. I doubt that a villain could sneak into Yuuei, especially now. I think it was maybe just an attempt romance." Deku chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

"No I seriously thi-

"Yn. Midoriya." Shoto Todoroki stood behind you. You hadn't even noticed him sneaking up on you, whether it was his intention or not, he scared you straight.

"Oh! Hi Shoto!" You calmed yourself, turning your head to make eye contact with him. He only grew closer to you, taking the eye contact as permission to get closer. You could feel the air get hotter as he lingered next to you, reaching his head forward so he could peek at what you were holding so tightly in your hands. His eyes offering no insight to his current emotion whatsoever.

"What is that?" Tilting his head. Suddenly embarrassed you smushed the paper into your chest, crinkling it. "Uhhh.. I got a letter! I don't know who it's from though. Not that it matters." You shrugged. Nice, the nonchalant approach.

"What kind of letter?" He strained his neck for a moment longer before backing up. Face still, ice cold. You sighed at his retreat. Anxiety welling up in your stomach, 'why the hell am I so paranoid for?' You thought.

You were about to dodge the question when Deku asnwered for you, "Its a love letter! From someone unknown, we're actually trying to figure out who it could be from!" At that you crumpled in defeat. Thanks a lot Izuku. Why the hell are you trying to cover it up so much anyways? Huh?!? Your inner monologue accused you.

"Oh." He stepped back even more, No longer feeling his warmth, the hall seemed a whole lot colder without him so close, you urged to scuttle up to him, Only to turn to see Shoto preparing to leave.

"Would you like to help us Sho?" You offered, not wanting him to go so soon. Leaning at the hip towards him, head tilted down, eyes looking up at him.

"No thank you. I have to go, Goodbye Yn, Midoriya, good luck." And at that he started to walk away. You rushed to find something to say, deciding to just let him go, offering a small, "Bye Sho." Along with Izuku's cheery goodbye. 'Was something wrong? Did I do something wrong?' Your spiralling thoughts were soon interrupted by Deku," I wonder what that was all about." The look on Izuku's face mirrored yours, laced with confusion, only less angsty than yours.

"he's probably just busy with assignments or something, wants to get ahead." You chirped, lightening the tension.

"weird of him to turn down an opportunity like this though, he's usually all over this kinda stuff, he's a real hardcore theorist sometimes!... don't tell him I said that."

"oh really?" you jest. Tension dissolved, nice. As if you and him weren't attempting to solve murder mysteries during break time a couple years ago. The memory returning to you, you can't help but feel a little sad.

A couple moments of silence and then, "Ive got it! we could track them down through their handwriting!"

"yeaahhh... but the letters printed!" you retired the letter from your iron grip with an obnoxious groan, provoking a handful of glances from students passing by. "good idea though." You shrink into yourself a little, eye twitchy as you try to disappear through sheer willpower.

"the culprit has thought this out really well.."

"Yeah.. no clues or anything. Apart from the curse at the end."

"Yeah."

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH PLZ LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS IM WORKINT ON A PART TWO!!!

I don't rlly know how to write stories like this, perchance ill turn it into a mini series or something

part 2

[magiclostinfantasy]

A Potion Mishap || Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: None (Apart from a shitty ending) Summary: Y/n and Theo find themselves in a week-long body swap after an accident with their project.

Y/n L/n and Theodore Nott were known for their prowess in potion-making, mastering nearly every potion they were assigned to brew. So it wasn’t a surprise when Professor Snape, the stern Potions Master, paired Y/n and Theodore for a challenging project. The assignment required them to brew the elusive Elixir of Luminescence, a potion rumored to glow like a thousand stars when concocted perfectly. 

Y/n, a studious and determined witch with a penchant for precision, was immediately focused on the task at hand. Theodore, on the other hand, known for his cunning and resourcefulness, saw the project as an opportunity to showcase his skills. As they gathered the ingredients and set up their cauldron in the dimly lit dungeon, they had no clue that this collaboration would lead to unforeseen consequences.

Their instructions were clear, and the stakes were high – impress Professor Snape, and the glory of mastering the Elixir of Luminescence would be theirs. Y/n meticulously measured out the moonstone dust while Theodore expertly handled the fluxweed. The air in the dungeon crackled with anticipation as they mixed their ingredients with precision.

However, in the midst of their focused work, a mischievous house-elf, intrigued by the brewing magic, appeared near the cauldron. Startled, Y/n and Theodore turned their attention to the unexpected visitor, momentarily forgetting the delicate balance of their potion.

In that fleeting moment of distraction, disaster struck. Instead of carefully adding a single drop of leech juice, both Y/n and Theodore simultaneously poured a considerable amount into the simmering cauldron. A greenish smoke billowed, filling the air with an acrid scent that hinted at the unexpected turn their project had taken.

As the greenish smoke began to dissipate, revealing the chaotic aftermath of their unintentional potion experiment, Y/n and Theodore exchanged nervous glances. Professor Snape's piercing gaze bore into them, and with a subtle nod, he signaled for them to continue their work.

Undeterred by the setback, Y/n and Theodore resumed their brewing with newfound determination. They exchanged hushed whispers, strategizing on how to salvage their project and impress the ever-watchful professor.

The minutes stretched into hours as they painstakingly followed the revised steps, compensating for the unexpected influx of leech juice. Beads of sweat formed on Y/n's forehead as Theodore stirred the cauldron with controlled urgency. The dungeon's atmosphere became tense, a palpable mix of anticipation and anxiety hanging in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, the potion reached its final stage. Y/n cautiously added the powdered moonstone dust, and as the ingredients merged, a soft glow enveloped the cauldron. The Elixir of Luminescence radiated a mesmerizing light that danced like miniature stars within the liquid.

Professor Snape's stern expression softened slightly as he observed the potion. It seemed their efforts had not gone entirely unnoticed. With a curt nod of approval, he dismissed them, leaving Y/n and Theodore to bask in the mixed emotions of relief and accomplishment.

As they exited the potions classroom, the weight of the mishap lingered in the air. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that they had messed something up. Theodore, ever the pragmatist, tried to reassure Y/n, reminding them that their potion had, against all odds, succeeded in captivating Professor Snape's attention.

The following evening, Y/n and Theodore gathered in the Slytherin common room to discuss their success with the Elixir of Luminescence. Excitement and relief filled the air as they relished in the triumph of overcoming the potion mishap. 

As they clinked their goblets in a toast, the potion worked its subtle magic.

Y/n felt a sudden dizziness, the room spinning around her. Theodore, too, sensed an inexplicable shift. Their surroundings blurred, and before they could comprehend what was happening, they found themselves standing in the common room - but something was off.

Y/n stared in disbelief at Theodore, who was staring right back with widened eyes. Their voices exchanged in a surreal twist as Theodore spoke in Y/n's voice, "What just happened?"

Y/n, now in Theodore's body, responded with a disoriented tone, "I... I have no idea. This wasn't supposed to happen."

A wave of panic swept over them as they frantically tried to make sense of the situation. Theodore, awkwardly adjusting to Y/n's body, exclaimed, "Merlin's beard, we swapped bodies!"

Y/n, grappling with Theodore's taller frame, replied, "This has to be a side effect of the potion. We need to figure out how to reverse it!"

Theodore, fumbling with Y/n's wand, muttered, "Reverse? Right, get the potions book." They huddled over the textbook, their fingers flipping through pages, searching for a solution.

In the midst of their frantic search, Y/n muttered, "This is insane. How did we manage to brew a body-swapping potion accidentally?"

Theodore, now reading aloud, answered, "Apparently, an excessive amount of leech juice amplifies the potion's effects. We've brewed a week-long body-swap potion. Great."

Y/n, realizing the gravity of the situation, sighed, "A week? In each other's bodies?"

Theodore nodded grimly, "Seems like it. We better make the best of it and try not to draw attention."

As they reluctantly accepted their predicament, the common room door creaked open. Pansy Parkinson, always curious, stepped in and looked at them quizzically. "What's going on? You two seem... different."

Y/n, attempting to imitate Theodore's nonchalant demeanor, replied with an awkward smile, "Oh, nothing, just experimenting with a new charm."

Pansy, raising an eyebrow, shrugged and left them to their devices. As the door closed, Y/n and Theodore exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that the challenges of adapting to each other's lives had just begun.

The following morning, Y/n and Theodore wandered awkwardly through Hogwarts in each other's bodies, garnering curious looks from fellow students. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor as they headed to the library, hoping to find a solution within the dusty tomes.

Y/n, still adjusting to Theodore's taller frame, grumbled, "I feel like a giraffe. How do you manage like this?"

Theo, struggling with Y/n's more delicate features, retorted, "Well, at least I don't have to crane my neck to see the top shelf."

They entered the library, earning stern glares from Madam Pince, who clearly disapproved of their presence. Y/n scanned the shelves while muttering, "We need to find something about reversing body-swaps. It can't be that uncommon, right?"

Theodore, riffling through a book, replied, "I hope so. I'd rather not spend the whole week trying to be you."

Y/n chuckled, "Trust me, being you isn't a walk in the park either."

They delved into the books, whispering incantations and searching for clues. Y/n, growing more frustrated, muttered, "This is impossible. We're stuck like this."

Theodore, attempting to reassure, said, "We'll find a way. We just need to keep looking."

Suddenly, Y/n's eyes widened as they stumbled upon a section about accidental body-swaps. "Wait, I think I found something. There's a reversal spell, but we need Occamy eggshells and Dragon Claws."

Theodore leaned in, peering at the page, "Where on earth are we going to find those?"

Y/n thought for a moment, "Snape’s storerooms. We'll need someone to gather the ingredients for us."

Theodore grinned mischievously, "Leave that to me. I'll be back before you know it."

As Theodore left the library, Y/n sighed, "This week is turning out to be more complicated than I ever imagined."

Theodore snuck into Snape's storeroom. The dimly lit room was filled with an array of magical ingredients, jars, and peculiar specimens. Theodore whispered to himself, "Occamy eggshells and Dragon Claws... Where would Snape keep those?"

Back in the library, Y/n's focus was momentarily broken when Draco approached her. Draco, not recognizing Y/n in Theodore’s body, said, "You left your diary in the common room, man. You should thank me, Pansy almost read it."

Y/n, surprised by the unexpected courtesy, took the diary and mumbled a thank you. As Draco turned to leave, curiosity got the better of Y/n. With Theo’s diary in hand, she couldn't resist the temptation to sneak a peek.

Flipping through the pages, Y/n discovered his innermost thoughts, penned down in ink. The revelations hit like a storm – Theodore Nott had a crush on her. The words spoke of admiration, subtle attempts to get closer, and a longing that had remained hidden beneath the surface. Y/n's heart raced as the implications of Theodore's feelings sank in.

Meanwhile, Theodore, now with the Occamy eggshells and Dragon Claws in hand, exited Snape's storeroom and found himself unexpectedly bumping into Pansy in the hallway.

Pansy, raising an eyebrow, remarked, "Y/n, you seem a bit off today. Everything alright?"

Theodore, momentarily taken aback, stammered, "Yeah, just... you know, potion mishap things. Nothing to worry about."

Pansy, oblivious to the body-swap, continued, "I wanted to talk to you about Theo. You two have been spending a lot of time together. Did you finally get the guts to ask your loverboy out?"

Theodore, shocked by Pansy's revelation, managed to say, "What? No, we're just working on a potion project together. Nothing more."

Pansy smirked, "Sure, girl. Just remember, you can tell me anything."

As Pansy walked away, Theodore, still processing the newfound knowledge about Y/n's feelings, made his way back to the library. However, he decided to keep the revelation to himself for now, unsure of how to navigate the delicate situation.

Back in the library, Y/n, their heart still pounding from Theodore's confession in the diary, awaited Theodore's return, unaware of the brewing storm of emotions and revelations that would soon reshape the dynamics of their relationship.

Theodore entered the library with a conflicted expression, struggling to process the bombshell that Pansy had dropped. As he approached Y/n, still immersed in the library's sea of books, he hesitated before saying, "Found the ingredients. Snape's storeroom is like a labyrinth."

Y/n looked up, and the air seemed to crackle with tension. "Good. Let's get started on brewing this reversal potion. The sooner we fix this, the better."

Theodore, attempting nonchalance, replied, "Right, no need to spend any more time in each other's shoes than necessary."

As they set up their makeshift potion-making station in a secluded corner of the library, Y/n couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in Theodore's demeanor. "Is everything alright, Theo?"

Theodore hesitated for a moment, then sighed, "It's just... Pansy. She asked if we were dating. I had no idea she thought that way."

Y/n, suppressing a smirk, responded in Theodore's deep voice, "Well, the Slytherin Prince might have some admirers."

Theodore, looking genuinely perplexed, said, "This isn't a joke, Y/n. I've never considered... you know, us."

Y/n, in Theodore's body, raised an eyebrow, "Really? Never?"

Theodore's eyes shifted, revealing an unspoken truth. "I mean, we're friends, right? But I never thought..."

Y/n felt her heart drop, "It's complicated. But, I found something interesting in your diary."

Theodore's eyes widened, "You read my diary?"

Y/n, in a teasing tone, replied, "Couldn't resist. Turns out, you've got a crush on me. Who would've thought?"

Theo blushed, a rare sight for the usually composed Slytherin. "Look, Y/n, it's not like I planned for you to find out this way."

Y/n, placing a reassuring hand on Theo's, said, "No harm done. Let's just focus on fixing this mess for now."

Theo, grateful for Y/n's understanding, nodded. "Okay. Let's brew this reversal potion and put an end to this madness."

As they gathered the ingredients and followed the intricate steps of the potion, the air became charged with tension.

Y/n, breaking the silence, said, "You know, Theodore, being in your shoes for a while... it's not as easy as it seems."

Theodore, stirring the potion with a thoughtful expression, responded, "Same goes for me, Y/n. Your life is more complicated than I thought."

They continued the delicate process of brewing, occasionally sharing anecdotes about their respective lives. The library, once a sanctuary of knowledge, transformed into a confessional where Y/n and Theodore laid bare their thoughts and emotions.

As the potion neared completion, Theodore looked at Y/n, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I never expected this potion mishap to bring us to such a revelation."

Y/n, smiling, replied, "Sometimes, the unexpected moments reveal the most about us."

With the reversal potion finally completed, they stood back, glancing at each other with a mix of relief and newfound understanding. The potion shimmered with the promise of returning them to their original selves.

Theodore, extending a hand, said, "Shall we do the honors, Y/n?"

She nodded, "Together, then."

As they recited the incantation, a burst of magical energy enveloped them, and the library seemed to sigh in relief. The world spun and then the magic settled.

Y/n and Theo, now back in their own bodies, found themselves standing in the dimly lit hallway outside the library. The air between them hung heavy with anticipation, the newfound awareness lingering like a spell in the enchanted air.

Theo, his eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and longing, gently brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's face. "So, um, about what happened in the library..."

Y/n, giving Theo a playful smirk, let out a soft laugh, "You mean the part where you've been hiding a secret crush on me? Seems I've been oblivious to the Slytherin Prince's affections."

Theo blushed, a warmth spreading across his cheeks, "Well, when you put it that way..."

Y/n, closing the distance between them, reached out to trace a gentle path along his jawline, "No need to be embarrassed, darling. It's surprising, but in the most enchanting way."

Theodore, captivated by Y/n's touch, looked into their eyes with a mix of relief and anticipation. "Surprising, huh? I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

Y/n, sincere and tender, whispered, "Truth is, I never expected this either. But I’m glad it happened"

Theodore’s fingers delicately entwined with Y/n's as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with Y/n's. "So, how do you feel about... us?"

Y/n, their lips mere inches apart, whispered, "I like you Theo. More than you know."

Theodore, sensing the unspoken desire, leaned in, their lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. As they hesitantly pulled back, Y/n, feeling a surge of courage, pulled him back for another.

Theodore, his gaze filled with adoration, replied, "Be mine, Y/n. I can’t go a day longer without you by my side."

[mayajadewrites]

Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Story Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Fourteen: Tinted

It's 8 PM when you arrive at the bar. You hear the voices of Hange and Eren, who are presumably drunk already and singing a song together. Mikasa was a few feet away from them, shaking her head. Erwin was busy typing away on his phone next to Hange. You spot the rest of the crew - Sasha, Connie, Jean, Petra and Armin who were chatting away in a heated debate.

You walk in front of Levi, careful not to let your feelings be shown. You've been eyeing him ever since you got in the car - the fringe of his jet black hair covering part of his face. His shoulders filled out the top he was wearing perfectly along with his biceps. Your gaze then went to his large hands, which are veiny and calloused. 

"You guys made it!" Hange broke away from Eren to hug you. "You're late, me and Eren are already tipsy!"

"Looks like we made it here right on time." Levi's voice spoke behind you. "Four eyes please behave yourself. We don't need an incident like last years holiday party." 

"What was this incident?" You whip your head around to Hange.

"Well... I may more may not have spilled wine on some very important people... and I may or may not have spilled some on their white carpet." 

"Red or white..."

"Red." Hange winced. "BUT we're at a bar this time! There's no rugs!"

Levi put his hands in his pockets as he walked up to the bar, ordering a round of drinks for everyone. You watched his stature as he leaned against the countertop - your mind wandering.

"I see why Levi says you have a staring problem." Erwin chuckled as he took a sip of his beer. "You sure this is just a simple arrangement?"

"I-Yes. Yes it is." You turn away from where your gaze previously was. "What about you? Do you have anyone special?

"Not as of now." Erwin sat on a barstool. "It's hard when people like Levi and myself are so busy. Personal relationships aren't easy to come by."

"I get that." You nod as Levi hands you a glass of white wine. You nod to say thank you as he tells the rest of the crew that the drinks are ready. "Any woman would be so lucky to have you, Erwin. I hope you know that." 

"That means a lot." His index finger taps the side of the beer bottle. "Levi found a great woman so easily, hope it's that way for me."

"What?" You stare at him for a moment, raising your eyebrow.

"Nothing. I think Hange is calling me!" 

As the night goes on, everyone starts to get a bit looser. You move your hips to the beat of the music surrounded by your coworkers. The music is blaring through the speakers and you can barely hear anything that's going on. Your eyes search for Levi, when you find him he's sitting back on a barstool next to Erwin, but he's staring at you. His eyes are half-lidded and sultry as he sips his whiskey. You watch as the liquid coats his lips and you wish you could taste the liquor from his lips.

"Hey!" Jean pulled on your wrist gently. "Wanna dance?" 

Your heart started to beat faster from the anxiety of it all. You and Levi both agreed this is an arrangement, a simple transaction where you both get something good out of it.

Jean is cute.

Levi is not yours. If he wanted to dance with Petra, he could. You couldn't say anything about it. 

"Sure." You nod, taking Jean's hand. You wrap your arms around his neck loosely as you moved to the beat, your ass facing Levi. Jean's face is pressed against your cheek as he whispers, "You look stunning tonight." 

"Thank you." You smile, pulling away just a bit. "You don't look bad yourself."

Jean's hand wandered to the small of your back to pull you closer to him. Your stomach felt like it was doing flips. Falling from the top of the Empire State Building.

Connie and Sasha were dancing next to you, cracking jokes and being silly like always. "No Sasha! THIS is how you do the running man." 

"Connie, you look so stupid." Sasha shook her head and crossed her arms. You and Jean laughed, but all laughter stopped.

"Hey, boss!" Jean waved.

"It's still Mr. Ackerman outside of work." Levi's tone was flat. "I need her for a second, I just got an urgent message from a client and she has the answer in her notes."

"Okay!" Jean quickly let go of you. He smiled at you as you walked behind Levi to go outside to his car. You pull out your phone to scroll through the notes you have from the previous meeting. 

When you walk outside, it's raining. You watch the raindrops fall onto Levi's skin, falling over his lips. He opened the door for you to get in the car and went around to the drivers side.

"What did they ask? I have all my notes right here-"

"They didn't call me." Levi ran his fingers through the front of his hair. 

"So... why did you make me come out here?"

Levi was quiet for a moment, like he was searching for the right thing to say. 

"I guess I just wanted you away from Kirstein." 

"We were just dancing."

"He was touching you."

"You sort of have to touch when you dance with someone." 

"I didn't like it." 

"I'm not sure what to say." You bit down on your bottom lip. "I'm allowed to let someone else touch me. You said if I wanted to sleep with someone else-"

"I didn't say you're not allowed." Levi interrupted your sentence. "I said I didn't like it."

"Okay..." You raised your eyebrow and looked at his face. His expression was stern, his charcoal grey eyes the same color as the sky. The rain beat down on the car, the sound of the drops hitting the outer shell getting louder and louder.

"Is that all?" You reach your hand to the inner handle of your door. Levi grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your noses were almost touching with how close he pulled you. Your elbow reseted on the center console as you leaned toward him.

"Levi, we're in public." You analyze his face. He looks so beautiful in this light. His skin is a bit damp from the rain and pieces of his hair are stuck to his forehead.

"The car is tinted." He leaned into you just a bit more and let his lips ghost yours. You could feel the arousal in your core as the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils.

"We're in a car." You let out a shaky breath, wanting to attach your lips to his. Levi's hand caressed your cheek gently as you spoke. 

"I'm not blind." 

"Well you are crazy." 

Levi pushed the lever to pull the seat back, while simultaneously pulling you on top of his lap. Your thighs pressed against the top of his legs are he pulled you into a kiss. His fingers got lost in your hair as he pulled you roughly into him. He was being desperate and possessive and his kisses reflected that. His tongue slid into your mouth without warning, leaving you almost breathless. 

You felt his hard erection against your core as you kissed him. You leaned down to press your chest onto his and straddled his lap, letting your skirt pool at your hips. 

"Were you jealous, Mr. Ackerman?" You tilted your head to the side, kissing his neck gently as you spoke. His skin felt hot as your lips danced around the area.

"No." He said sternly. 

"Mhm." You mumble against his skin, giving the spot a small bite. A moan left Levi's lips as you began to kiss, bite, and suck. His hands trailed from your shoulders down to your ass, giving it a loud slap. You giggle as his hand leaves your ass cheek. 

"You like that, don't you?" 

You are feeling particularly bold from the alcohol. You sit up and grab Levi's hand, bringing it under your skirt to the front of your underwear - which was soaked. His fingertips grazed the moist fabric. "Do you think I do?" 

Levi bit his bottom lip and slipped two fingers past your underwear to your throbbing pussy. Your legs tighten around his waist as he thrusts his digits in and out of you, curling them as he goes. His thumb softly rubs your clit, automatically getting a reaction from you. 

"You're such a brat, you know that?" His lips attached to your ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

"I've been told." You throw your head back as his fingers move at a quicker pace. He felt your gummy walls pulsate around his digits as he bit your shoulder.

"What am I gonna do about that mouth of yours? You should be punished." Levi stopped moving for a moment, letting you come to the realization that he stopped.

"Levi." You whine.

"You can't come until I say so." 

"You're the worst." Levi's fingers enter you again and it takes everything in you not to come. His thumb rubs soft circles on your clit which only add to the overstimulation. "Levi, baby please-" You moan. "Please let me come." 

His fingers thrusted in and out of you faster, the entire length of his fingers disappearing inside of you. When he curled his fingers the last time, you almost lost it. 

"This isn't- this isn't fair." Your breathing gets shaky. "Can I come, please." The outer rim of your vision turns white.

"Yes." Levi said and you let everything go. He kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm, letting you ride out the euphoria. Warm liquid dripped down to his fingers. "I bet you didn't even know you could do that." He kissed you as he rubbed your clit, coating it with a mix of your arousal and liquid.

Once you came back to earth, your hands messed with his belt, quickly pulling his pants down. His hard cock slapped his stomach as it was freed.

"I don't have a condom." He said almost painfully.

"We're past that, Levi." You position yourself on top of him, the tip of his cock grazing your slit. His hands were planted on your thick thighs, squeezing them gently. The way he looked up at you was like he's seen an angel. You slowly bring your body down on top of his cock, your pussy stretching from his side.

"Fuck." He moaned, guiding your hips up and down his cock. "You're so wet, but so tight for me." 

You bounced your ass on top of him, letting your chest press against his. You put your arm back to grab his dick from behind, slowly guiding it into your pussy. His eyes are almost glued shut as you engulf his length. He moans your name while thrusting into you as you ride him. 

Your hands are on his shoulders as you grind your hips to his, listening to the squelching sounds of Levi's cock entering you. 

"You feel so fucking good. I could fuck you forever." Levi moaned your name. "I'm gonna come. Are you close, princess?"

You nod as you close your eyes and let the euphoria take over. Levi's nails dig into your plush ass as his thrusts become more messy, signaling that he's about to come.

Your walls pulsate around his cock and you moan his name loudly. "Levi," 

That was it for Levi. He pressed his entire length into you as he bottomed out, filling your insides with his cum. He groaned as he released, kissing your shoulder gently. You begin to breath heavily as you look out the window, only to see steam from the temperature of both your bodies.

Levi took a deep breath as he pulled his underwear and pants back on, helping you with your skirt. He gazed into your eyes as your heart rate came down. His index finger moved a stray hair behind your ear. Your face is red, your skin. is bruised, and your hair probably looks nothing like it did when you went in. You turn around while still on Levi's lap to look at yourself in the rearview mirror.

"Let me not look like I just had my insides rearranged." You ran your fingers through your hair while fanning your face.

"You look beautiful." Levi's lips kissed your cheek as his hands wandered down your waist to your thighs, gripping them tightly.

This is not just an arrangement, is it? 

[tripleglitchwriting]

Hello! And thank you!! I hope you have a FANTASTIC day/night.

I picked Starscream because I haven’t written him before and I thought it would be an interesting challenge.

Alone Together

CW: Reader is kind of depressed, mentions of injury (not human), pretty fluffy other than that

For a long time you felt alone. No matter where you were, be it in a crowd of people or sitting alone in your apartment. Nothing could match the feelings of isolation that you lived in. It felt damming, desolate, and depressing wherever you went.

And yet, despite everything you’d experienced, something changed.

You’d gone to Jasper for a variety of reasons. Mainly just for a change of scenery, but you’d also heard the small town atmosphere could be comforting. Maybe you could get to know some people, become part of a community, find a sense of purpose. Of course, about a month in you realized how wrong you were. Everybody already had their own lives. So there you were, the secondary character to their stories.

Being there was still suffocating.

On a day like any other you decided it would be a great time to venture out into the vast abyss of the desert. You took your clunky car and overpacked supplies out into the sands and just drove. The destination didn’t matter, all you wanted was something to do. That’s it, that’s all.

About an hour into your drive you saw a jet plane soar above you. It wasn’t unusual for the area, plenty of military bases around or at least an airport or two. This one was a bit strange though, you had to admit. It seemed to be… damaged. Actually it seemed to be falling. Fast.

A adrenaline hit you like a truck. With nothing else to lose you hit the gas on your car like lives were at stake, and for all you knew there were. There was a distinct lack of smoke coming from the thing but that wasn’t exactly what was going through your mind at the time, all you knew is someone could be hurt and you could help.

When you finally arrived at the site of the crash, near the side of a large rock formation, but something stood out to you. There was definitely a jet there, however there was no pilot, rather it was leaking a bright blue liquid. Cautiously you parked your car and stepped towards it, only for a shrill voice to cut through the air.

“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” It shouted, almost knocking you off balance from surprise. There was no one around to make such a sound, unless the pilot ejected from the jet without you noticing and was also carrying a megaphone.

“Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?”

“I need no such thing! Leave here, human, before I wipe you off this miserable planet!” Well that was a weird thing to hear from what you assumed to be another human. Before you could ask anymore questions, though, another sound scraped through the air.

Mechanical whirring radiated from the now moving jet plane. It began to tear itself apart only to reassemble its parts elsewhere, eventually transforming itself into a thin, robotic figure high above your head. A sharp gasp escaped your mouth.

“What, scared? Well you should be! I, the superior- ACK!” The robot lurched forward in pain, holding a nasty looking tear in his side. While fear and confusion wracked your body, your legs pulled you forward anyway. “Hey! Did you not hear what I just said? I’ll destroy you and this entire mudball when I get the chance!”

“What are you?” Wonder and worry filled your voice.

“Wh- well, I, I am a Cybertronian, not that that means anything to you, fleshling.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Oh really? I didn’t notice.”

“What’s your name?”

“Star- Commander Starscream.”

“Um… ok, I’m-” You didn’t get to finish your introduction as you heard a mechanical hiss and Starscream fell to his knees. His metal face scrunched up into an unpleasant expression of what you would call pain and frustration.

“You really look like you need help.”

“No I don’t!” He growled, trying to grab at you but missing and snapping his clawed hand back to the gaping wound on his side. He obviously wasn’t going to let you anywhere near it, so you did the next best thing.

“So, Commander Starscream, where are you from?” Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say. You saw him cringe, then he grit his teeth and gazed back at you with a writhing death stare.

“Is there something wrong with your processor? Can’t you see I’m infinitely more powerful that you? Why aren’t cowering? Why aren’t you afraid?” He snapped at you, fire in his eyes burning with an emotion you couldn’t describe. Yet you stood there, asking yourself the same question.

“I have… nothing else to lose.” By this Starscream was taken aback. He didn’t consider a human could feel like that. Could feel… similar to himself.

“Cybertron. Are you happy?”

“What?”

“That’s where I’m from.”

“Oh. Cool. Why are you here then?”

“Why you- augh! I’m here because of a war. Alright? Go. Away.”

“What, like a space war?” Starscream scoffed.

“‘A space war’,” He mocked your tone. “Yes, sure, if you want to put it into a language you can understand.”

“Well, sorry that’s happening.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know that much about war but… well I know it can get pretty bad. So I’m sorry that’s happening to you. Is that where you got your injury from?”

“Well… I… I- yes.” He tripped over his words, recovering just in time to come up with a great lie. “I was damaged in a great battle! I led my squadron to victory but was shot down by my ruthless enemies.” A newfound power entered his voice.

“That sounds intense.”

��It was! It was a dangerous, but I prevailed! I, courageous and powerful Commander Starscream, will always win! You would do well to remember that!”

“You really like the sound of your own name.”

“Wh- you worm, how dare you say that to the likes of-“

“Yes, yes, Commander Starscream. Look, I’m sorry all that happened and I’m glad you’re such a fantastic leader, but right now you’re looking pretty bad. Are you sure I can’t help?” He drew his lips into a thin line before narrowing his eyes at you.

“How could you help me?”

“Well, first I could at least wrap up that wound. I brought some blankets with me when I came out here.”

“How do I know you’re not just going to try and offline me?”

“How would a lowly human like me do that?”

“…fine.” He looked away, obviously annoyed but still in need of help. You got what you could out of you car and approached him once again.

“I’m going to need to get to the wound in order to patch it up.” Starscream grimaced, but ultimately kneeled down to your level. Carefully you wrapped a blanket around his waist, trying to avoid hurting him further. It took time, especially because you were afraid he was going to stab you with his razor sharp claws at any moment, but you got it done. When you finished he puffed out a long breath of air and sat down against the rock face behind him with a THUMP that shook your whole body.

Your ‘band-aid’ seemed to stop whatever blue liquid he kept bleeding, at least preventing it from leaking out more. Your hands were covered in the stuff now, you just hoped it wasn’t poisonous. When you looked up at Starscream you noticed a distinct lack of that narcissistic air about him, like he had given up an act.

“Hey, Commander, are you alright?”

He didn’t respond. And you didn’t try asking again. Instead you walked to the rock face he leaned on and sat next to him. Neither of you spoke. You both simply sat, gazing out into the vast desert. You were surprised when he was the one to break the silence.

“Why would you help me?”

“…’Cause you were hurt.

“That can’t be the reason, what do you gain from this? Do you think I’m going to help you now?”

“No, I helped because it was the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to- agh, that’s a load of scrap! Can’t you tell a dying mech the truth?”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes you are!”

“Why can’t you just accept someone’s being nice to you? Has no one ever showed you kindness before?” You said it sarcastically, like he obviously would have been showed kindness at some point in his life, but your heart sank when he didn’t reply. “You… have been showed kindness before, right?”

“Kindness doesn’t get you very far in the Decepticons.” He whispered, bitter venom dripping from every word. You hesitated before speaking again, trying to wrap your head around the implications of his statement.

“It can go a long way on Earth.”

“I’m not from Earth.”

“But you’re here now.” Starscream paused.

“…I suppose I am.” Slowly, he turned his head to face you completely. “You really helped me just out of pure… generosity?”

“Yep.”

“What if I hurt you? What if I betray you, even after all you’ve done!?”

“Then you hurt me. And I was wrong.” His eyes flickered to the sky, faceplate bending into an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“I wasn’t injured in battle.” This time you moved your head to look up at him. “I am nothing to the Decepticons. Not anymore. I am a traitor, a coward, a fraud, not a commander.”

“I figured.”

“Wh- what? How could you know?”

“You aren’t great at hiding it. Sorry if I come off rude, but… somebody would’ve come for you by now, right? You wouldn’t be here… alone. With me.”

“Well, at least you’re better company than Megatron.”

“I’m flattered. I’m sure you don’t just dish out compliments to any old fleshbag.”

“What can I say? You’ve impressed me, human. Maybe I was wrong about your species.”

“Thanks, Commander Starscream.”

“I told you, I’m not a commander. I’m a-“

“I know. But for what it’s worth, you don’t really seem all that terrible to me.” He looked at you, a new kind of feeling welling up in his spark. He didn’t respond, but you got the message. He closed his eyes, and for a second you swore you felt something change in the atmosphere.

“Why are you all alone out here?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I don’t see many humans wandering around in a wasteland.”

“Good point. If you must know, I was just on a drive.”

“A drive? To where?”

“Anywhere. Or nowhere. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Don’t you have connections? Other humans to worry about you?”

“…No. Not really.”

“Oh. I’m… sorry, then. I suppose you’re very lonely.”

“Sure. I’ve been alone for a long time. By the sound of it, I assume you have too?”

“You could call it that.”

“Hey, Commander Starscream?”

“Yes?”

“How about we be alone… together?”

[shamsrevengers]

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 ;; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙨𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚.

⤷ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; BONTEN TIMELINE, language, sex, drug abuse/use, violence, toxic themes, overall not for young audiences or those easily affected by subjects of the same nature.

⤷ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; Haruchiyo Sanzu, Manjiro Sano, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Kokononi Hajime, Takeomi Akashi, Kakucho, Hanma Shuji.

⤷ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ; this is all work of fiction. in no way am i prompting the acts in this fictional story nor am i encouraging acts done or words said in this piece of writing. i heavily recommend only 18+ viewers as the heavy themes are not the most suitable for a younger audience.

“That proposal seems favourable," Your leg tapped rhythmically beneath the table while facing Manjiro in his office. It wasn't out of fear towards him, but rather a reaction to the impending change. Sano's intense onyx eyes remained fixed on you, showing his lingering doubts.

"Are you able to commence work tomorrow?" His words didn't come across as a mere inquiry. It wasn't a question, but a command. A command that could be declined, but doing so would signify your permanent departure. Did you truly desire to leave?

As you listened to his plan, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping up on you. The idea of being involved in a potentially illegal operation was normal and with the allure of the hefty payout that was promised. . . it was perfect. You knew that your skills as a member of criminal organisations that have transpired to be amazing throughout the years could be put to good use in a variety of legitimate ways, but the temptation of easy money was hard to resist.

You took another sip of your whiskey, trying to calm your nerves as you weighed the risks and rewards of the job. The man across from you watched you carefully, waiting for your response. Finally, you set down your glass and met his gaze.

"I'll need more information though," you said, your voice steady despite the doubt swirling in your mind. "I need to know exactly what I'll be getting myself into and what the potential consequences might be."

The man nodded, understanding your hesitation. He began to lay out the details of any job, painting pictures of high-stakes operations that required precision, skill, and a willingness to bend the rules.

You knew that you were treading on thin ice, but the promise of a big payday was too tempting to ignore. With a heavy heart, you made the decision to go through with the job, knowing that it would test your morals and ethics in ways that it hadn’t before. But then again, that last look Shuji gave you made you question your morality.

But for now, all you could do was steel yourself for the task ahead and hope that your skills as a lawyer would be enough to see you through.

As you nodded in agreement, Manjiro informed you that Sanzu and Ran would accompany you for the job. You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought and posed a question, "What kind of job would require a lawyer?" You poured yourself another glass of whiskey, hoping that it wouldn't cloud your judgment. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as you took a sip, savouring the warm sensation that spread through your body. Despite your doubts about the job, you trusted Manjiro's judgment and felt confident that you would be able to handle whatever challenges lay ahead.

The man sitting across from you leaned in and asked, "Your license is legal, correct?" You nodded in response, feeling a bit uneasy about what he was about to say next. "We have a deal being made in a government building and we need a distraction," he explained, taking a sip from your glass. You couldn't help but feel sceptical about the job he was proposing. It seemed too simple to just walk into a government building with a legal license that you haven't used in years. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of trouble you were getting yourself into.

“What’s the condition?”

Mikey chuckled heartily when you raised the question, a sign that he had complete faith in your abilities. After all, he wouldn't have entrusted you with a task as risky as operating under the watchful gaze of Hanma Shuji for years if he didn't believe you were a meticulous and sharp-witted individual, capable of handling such a demanding job with utmost care and precision.

The person speaking began by saying, "Everything is expected to fall apart. The agreement will collapse after a heated argument and violence will break out at a predetermined time." He then turned to you and said, "We require your assistance in keeping three specific individuals confined to an office until Sanzu arrives to retrieve you at the end of the assignment."

It had plot holes. Like why would they purposely break off a deal? Why are they making an illegal deal in a government building in the first place? Who are these three men and why should they be blind to everything happening? You can’t ask questions. It’s not part of the repertoire.

Over the last fourteen days, you have found yourself waking up in a hotel room that is heavily guarded and located only a few minutes away from the main headquarters of Bonten. Although the experience has been unusual and uncomfortable, it is a welcome change from the suffocating and unpleasant experience of waking up in your previous bed. Despite the foreignness of the situation, you cannot help but feel a sense of relief and safety in this new environment.

You got the call from Ran Haitani saying they’re ten minutes away from the hotel. He said you’d be picked up by cars that aren’t aligned with them so as to not raise any suspicion of you being a part of Bonten.

As you stepped out of the car, the driver remained silent and avoided all eye contact with you. It almost seemed as though he had received a specific instruction to keep his distance from you. Once you arrived at the building, you quickly put on your sunglasses, shielding your eyes from the bright sun. With a deep breath, you stepped forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

As per Manjiro's instructions, you entered the main building and made your way towards the main desk. You felt a little nervous, but you took a deep breath and approached the receptionist with confidence. You pulled out your lawyer license and greeted the receptionist with a warm smile, "Good morning. I am a part of Peter Ippoti's team of lawyers here to discuss his ongoing lawsuit." You spoke with a sense of authority and conviction, using the lying skills that you had developed over the past four years. The receptionist looked up from their computer and nodded, "Alright, let me check if Mr. Ippoti is available." You waited patiently, hoping that your plan would work.

The man bought the lie, just as Manjiro had predicted. As you stood in the elevator, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety, your eye caught Sanzu and Ran as they pushed the main glass doors. Sanzu glanced back at you for a split second before disappearing with Ran up the emergency stairs. You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered with you as you stepped out of the elevator on your floor.

You recall the path that Manjiro had shown yesterday, guiding you through different turns and twists until you finally arrive at the designated room. As you approach the door, you notice the number scribbled on your wrist by Manjiro, serving as a constant reminder of your destination. With a sense of understanding, you reach the door and prepare to occupy the room.

As soon as you walked into the meeting room, you couldn't help but notice the seven male lawyers sitting on one side of the table. You took off your glasses slowly, trying to hide your discomfort at being the only woman in the room. They all ogled at you as you sat down on the opposite side of the table, effortlessly keeping a confident smile.

As soon as you sat down, you took a quick glance at the three men. They looked like ordinary lawyers, dressed in crisp suits and ties. Two of them had wedding rings on, which made you wonder what their spouses would think of their current situation. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt creeping up your throat. After all, you were tasked with keeping them locked up in this small room, away from the rest of the world during whatever the hell was supposed to happen in a couple of minutes.

The room buzzed with idle conversations while you intermittently glanced at your watch, eagerly anticipating the designated time. Once the clock struck the anticipated hour, you strained your ears for any signs of commotion, signaling the commencement of the crucial task. However, to your dismay, there was no activity whatsoever.

Minutes ticked away, stretching from five to ten, and before you knew it, it was already 8:30. You found yourself still seated in a room alongside several other attorneys, patiently awaiting a client who would not show up.

Unexpectedly, everyone reacted swiftly to the abrupt gunshots and gunfire. Finally, you thought to yourself as you glanced back at your targets. They started whispering to each other quietly while the others were clearly in a state of panic.

Something inside you suggested that these individuals were not ordinary lawyers.

As their gaze shifted towards their watch, your eyes widened as their sleeve inadvertently revealed a tattoo in kanji. It was a tattoo that spelled out 'Punishment' in kanji characters. Your breath hitched, but you knew you had to react swiftly as they made their way towards the exit.

Without hesitation, you retrieved a gun from your purse and aimed it at the back of their heads. In an instant, their hands shot up in surrender, while the remaining four men gasped in a mixture of astonishment and fear. "Don’t move," you cautioned firmly.

It seemed like eons of you standing there with a gun pointed at people's faces, the safety off. However, it was only a minute or two before the door swung open abruptly, revealing Sanzu covered in blood.

You gazed at him in shock before he grabbed you and hurriedly led you through the halls. Glancing back, you noticed three men chasing after you both, armed with their own guns. As you descended the emergency stairs together, you turned to him and exclaimed, "What the hell happened?!"

"Shit went awry," he calmly responded, disarming you and firing a shot that hit one of the men in the leg. The distant wail of police sirens made you both exchange a tense glance, his gaze resolute, yours filled with alarm.

He grasped your wrist firmly and guided you up the stairs in the opposite direction of your intended path. As you ascended higher and higher, a chill breeze brushed against your skin, signaling your arrival on the rooftop of the building.

He came to a halt abruptly, fixing his gaze upon you with intensity. His eyes, a deep shade of rose, silently pleading to convey a question. Pleading to express a specific desire that words seemed unable to capture.

As you stood there, the silence hung heavy in the air, amplifying the unease that had settled within you. Your inquiry, uttered in a hushed tone, seemed to have disappeared into the void, swallowed by the vast emptiness surrounding you. The absence of a response only deepened the mystery that shrouded this encounter.

But then, as if in response to your unspoken question, you felt a gentle touch upon your cheek. The sensation of calloused fingers grazing your skin sent a shiver down your spine, both unsettling and strangely comforting as the other hand held the black, shiny gun. It was a touch that carried a weight of significance, yet its purpose remained elusive, leaving you perplexed and yearning for answers.

As those fingers continued their delicate exploration, tracing an intricate mark etched upon your cheek, a surge of curiosity mingled with a tinge of apprehension coursed through your veins. What was the meaning behind this enigmatic symbol? What secrets did it hold? And why was it being revealed to you now, in this moment of profound silence?

With each stroke of those rough fingers, a flood of emotions washed over you. There was a sense of intimacy, as if this touch was meant for you alone, a connection forged in the depths of an unknown past. Yet, there was also a hint of vulnerability, as if the mark on your cheek exposed a part of you that had long been concealed, a hidden truth waiting to be unveiled.

As you tried to decipher the identity of this mysterious mark, your mind raced with possibilities. Was it a symbol of protection, a ward against unseen forces? Or perhaps it held the key to unlocking a forgotten memory, a fragment of a story that had been lost in the recesses of time. The uncertainty gnawed at you, fueling a desire to unravel the enigma that had been placed upon your very skin.

In the absence of words, you found solace in the language of touch. The mark on your cheek became a bridge between two souls, a silent conversation that transcended the boundaries of speech. And as you stood there, enveloped in the mystery of this encounter, you couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden beneath.

God, were you becoming delusional?

i can fix him (no really i can).

[cilil]

AN: Alright, my dear @fraeuleinfriedhof, I am a woman of my word. I decided to choose one of the dark romance prompts to create this little gift for you and hope it is to your liking!

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: marked ~ Melkor x Mairon ♡ synopsis: While the Ainur of Utumno feast, Melkor makes sure everyone knows that Mairon is his and his alone. ♡ warnings: Smut(ty), not-too-explicit public sex, possessiveness, a hedonistic hell party going on in the background ♡ short oneshot (~600 words)

A snowstorm raged outside, pelting the frozen north of Arda with a furious flurry of hail and ice. 

The halls of Utumno, however, were filled with warmth, laughter and music, and the Maiar of Melkor celebrated their lord's glory and generosity. Fires burned freely between mighty pillars of obsidian, wine, blood and meat were served in abundance and all indulged in whichever pleasures of the flesh they craved. It was a wild and frightening spectacle to behold, like a dance of maddened, frenzied beings that had once been holy and pure, and the scent of ash filled the air. 

Amidst the chaos stood the throne of Melkor where he lounged, watching his people with idle amusement. On his lap, seated proudly and clinging to his form like a precious piece of jewellery, was a Maia unlike any other, one bright and beautiful among creatures of darkness, with hair of copper, eyes of gold and lips like liquid rubies. 

One of Melkor's hands held onto his slender waist possessively, and the other was interlaced with his, each adorned with a black and golden ring, as if he needed to stake his claim on the wondrous creature he had chosen as his consort – though all Ainur who had ever come across He who arises in Might knew better than to covet what was his. 

Mairon had long since learned to ignore the stares. He had learned to smile and giggle and bat his eyelashes whenever Melkor's hands began to wander. His entire being lit up with perverse, triumphant euphoria as he felt cool fingers slip underneath his luxurious robes and search for bare skin; on Almaren, he had been a mere apprentice of a smith, and now he was the consort of a king. His best, his brightest, his favourite, his *precious*. 

Melkor's grip on his hand tightened just as his wandering hand cupped his ass. "I want you." 

A clear, brilliant laugh filled the air, teasing to the point of mockery, and Mairon threw his head back to cheekily evade a greedy kiss – only to bare his neck, deliberately. 

"Right here? Right now?" he asked, pretending to swoon at the mere idea. 

"Yes." Melkor pushed him down harder onto his lap and pulled him in at the same time. "You may keep your robes, as the sight of your true beauty is mine alone as well, but I *will* have you." 

Impatient, impulsive, insolent. Any other Ainu would have felt Mairon's wrath for such audacity, Vala or not; but his beloved he would indulge. Letting himself fall so he could lie on Melkor's chest, he looked up at him through long eyelashes. 

"Take me then," he challenged, "show them that I am yours and you are mine."

"Be careful what you wish for. You might yet sing louder than they do."

"Make me."

And so it came to pass that even though the two lovers fell silent for a while as their lips met in a heated kiss, Mairon's song would eventually echo through the hall with such exuberance and ferocity that many turned their heads to behold the spectacle on their lord's throne and watched their feverish coupling. Blood-red robes pooled around his hips, concealing where their fánar met, but the force of Melkor's thrusts and his own frantic movements left little to the imagination. The fingers of their ringed hands remained intertwined as if to repeat the vows they had exchanged and sharp teeth and claw-like nails left marks on unblemished skin, like quiet, breathless whispers saying mine. 

Thanks for reading!

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

[evolutionsvoid]

Death is an inevitability in this world, as all fluid will someday dry and all flesh will someday rot. It is a sad occasion, no doubt, but the people of this land do find hope within it. For those who die are not truly gone, as it is all part of a cycle. For the people who live upon a land made of ancient corpses and fallen gods, they know that nothing goes to waste. What rots shall one day be reborn, in one form or another. The major belief is that those who pass away must be returned to the earth, where their bodies and fluids shall be absorbed and reused in the birth of a new being. The soul of all beings are within their fluids and flesh, and once it is returned it shall be remade. They will be born again, their soul within a new body, a new person, to live a brand new life full of more possibilities. Perhaps they will be human once more, or perhaps a beast, there is no telling, as for what matters is that they are a part of this endless cycle of death and rebirth. Thus, all the different cultures of this world make it a custom to return their dead to the earth in their own special way. Some melt bodies of loved ones down in a bath of Yellow Bile, where their liquid remains can thus be spread upon their favorite places and memories, and that their essence may return that much faster. Some seek simple burial, while others leave their bodies out for the elements, so that nature and her children may return their essence to the source. 

With many cultures leaving fresh bodies out to be returned to the planet, there are a number of species that have grown accustomed to this food source. One such creature is the Ivory Angel, a large insect that has a taste for the dead. Their razor sharp claws cut through flesh with ease, carving up the corpses and gnawing them down to the bone. These bloody skeletal remains are discarded, and left for the other creatures to fight over, as these Angels prefer soft flesh. So eager they are for the freshly dead, that Ivory Angels have memorized the places where people go to return their passed on loved ones. They will stake out these graveyards and corpse grounds as their territory, standing ever vigilant for the next meal. They tend to perch themselves on high, so that they can easily survey their surroundings for approaching corpse wagons or other scavengers that need to be scared off. For those who try to steal their meal or run them off, the Angels use their gnarly bladed arms to slice through them. So intimidating these weapons are, that they pose themselves with them outstretched as they watch their territory, daring anyone to try and challenge them.

Due to their constant presence at burial grounds, folk have viewed them as guardians and watchers of these sacred places. To them, these Ivory Angels will ensure their dead are returned to the world in peace, and that no grave robbers or harvesters will run off with them. In truth, the Angels will indeed attack corpse stealers, but purely because they are trying to abscond with their food. Regardless, people have a love and reverence for this species, often using their image on works that are tied to death and burial. Their blade covered limbs cleave through flesh and let the fluids leak into the ground, to which the poets say that angels take the dead back to the earth, carried upon their ivory wings.

---------------------------------------------

"Ivory Angels"

I am pretty darn proud of this design, I must say!

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

HAVE A DRINK WITH ME 

One-shot #: 36

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T (A bit outright suggestive near the end because Zoro just can’t help himself.)

Note: Happy Birthday to our lovely navigator, the one and only cat burglar and weather queen! I was supposed to post a different story but decided to go for a lighter, PWP-ish one. Because I need to get this out of my system.

Summary: This time they definitely don’t need any drinking competitions or alcohol to do it.

Nami had always thought...

...that alcohol would be the one sole reason why something will happen between her and Zoro.

Something that will cross the imaginary boundary they both had unwittingly set between them right from the beginning. Totally dissolving it to nothing… completely eradicating its existence.

As if it’s never been there from the start.

It was during her birthday celebration when they first found themselves engaged in a serious and fierce one on one drinking competition after giving in to Usopp’s endless taunting that night that they would never find out who can really outdrink the other; given how they always seemed to knock back almost the same amount of alcohol at the festivities the crew usually attends or held.

That irked Zoro and made Nami smirk cockily. Whiskey Peak was never settled. And she was pretty confident she can outdrink him seeing how he always passes out while in the middle of drinking.

She haughtily accepted the challenge and much to her surprise, Zoro did too.

Well… pride was at stake and so were some belis…

With a barrel between them and the whole crew gathering around to watch and cheer their favorites, their drinking competition commenced.

Nami almost forgot that it was her birthday party because somehow it turned into the kind of merriment Zoro would appreciate if it was his special day.

Nonetheless she was having a blast—making fun of him, teasing and trying to put him one tankard behind her, mug after mug after mug amidst the shouts of their rowdy crew mates.

Their drinking prowess was inhuman as everyone in the crew soon realized that they were still at it even as the night wore on and the younger members of the crew settled down the lawn deck to sleep.

The older ones left them on their own knowing that in the battle of wills and pride, Zoro and Nami will not stop until the other is totally obliterated.

Nami was not sure how they went from squabbling in between drinks to actually relaxing and enjoying the alcohol between them as they shared stories and laughter from when they first met Luffy up until now that their crew had grown in number and strength and standing.

The fact that they were trying to drink each other under the table was forgotten just like that.

She was in the middle of laughing amidst the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy, Chopper and Usopp with her head thrown back and without a care in the world when her eyes caught Zoro’s.

He was looking at her intently, like he was scrutinizing her even if his face showed a slight hint of amusement at her antics.

And something just clicked inside Nami and she realized…

…something had just shifted between her and Zoro right at that very moment.

They originally started drinking while facing each other with a barrel between them.

And now they are so…

Close.

They nearly kissed that night.

Nearly.

It didn't happen though. A loud splash of water broke their trance. It was as if the cold liquid itself had drenched them and woke their senses up, sending them hurtling back to reality. Next thing they know, they were scampering towards the railing, immediately sobering up when they realized their idiot captain had stupidly fallen into the sea while sleepwalking and searching for meat.

That was the end of that.

They never tried to talk about it. Chalked it off to one moment of insanity produced by drinking barrels and barrels of alcohol just to best each other. Nami thought that it was just a one-time thing. A once in a lifetime occurrence.

But she was wrong.

Because ever since that night, whenever there was a party or a celebration of sorts or any festivities where the Straw Hat crew finds themselves in the center of…

…she and Zoro will find each other—to try and see who really drinks the most.

And who is brave enough to make the first move.

Because in all honestly. Their drinking competitions always end up in that certain moment where they are so close to each other that all Zoro needed to do was lean down some more and all Nami had to do was tilt her head up a little.

And they would kiss.

But that was it.

No kiss ever happened in all the times they had a drinking battle or even when they just casually drank with each other in some random bars on whatever island they were currently docked. 

Then in one, unexpected instant—their lives were turned upside down when they were all forcefully separated by a warlord.

Two years was a long time. And Nami was sure that that time apart had brought back the invisible, unspoken boundary she and Zoro had between them that they had been too reluctant to cross when they had the chance.

She was fairly certain that those two years had put a damper on what was going between them. They were young, a bit reckless and their adventurous and high spirits might just be the reason why they wanted to break down that barrier that keeps their relationship purely platonic.

Then… Fishman Island.

Nothing that happened before they were separated ever came so close to what took place while they were in that place.

When they finally and eventually got the chance to be alone with each other again for the first time in two years in that almost secluded and quiet steps of Ryugu Palace in Fishman Island (while she was taking a break from drinking and he was planning to nap in between)... 

...their lips almost touched.

Closer than it had ever been.

She can feel his breath, warm against her lips as he exhaled deeply. It caressed her face in the softest of all touches and she knew right there and then...

 ...that he had missed her.  

If it wasn't for Usopp suddenly appearing and loudly joining them with Chopper and Sanji in tow, Nami knew that they would finally have given in to that longstanding urge to kiss each other.

Still that was the last of that. Again. The moment they entered the New World, the crew had to go and separate into different group—too often for Nami's taste—so they could do what they meant to do.

And whatever celebration they had after reuniting every now and then, were fast and shadowed with current issues they had to deal with where lives and freedom were at stake.

There was no time to think about what was going on between her and Zoro. So she decided to finally leave it at that. They are in the New World after all and they both have more important things to consider. To do. To prioritize. Than what was going on between them.

So Nami decided to just let it all go.

Besides, if it really meant to happen. It will happen.

The festivities at the Flower Capital of Wano Country had finally dwindled down after days and days of celebration. Everyone was busy doing their own things now—some recuperating and relaxing while others are enjoying the long-awaited freedom and peace that was denied to them for so many years.

Nami was wandering around the shogun’s castle, stealthily looking for any treasure Orochi and his minions might have left. At the same time, she was enjoying the nocturne view of the country from the long corridor balcony. The entire capital below was highlighted under the glow of the full moon and it was exquisitely beautiful. 

She had stopped for a moment to savor the night air and the soft murmurs of movements and muffled voices from all over the castle and was actually surprised to see Zoro heading towards her.

He had probably just finished his training since he was coming from the lower floor where he and Momonosuke usually practiced their sword skills.

He gave her a nod when he saw her. And without another word, he joined her in her moon viewing.

And they both stayed there in the balcony—silent, contented and just watching the world outside them.

It was the first time they had the chance to be alone again since Fishman Island.

When you just came out of the biggest, most dangerous battle of your entire life—alive, still kicking and in one piece like they have—it kind of gives you a different perspective and makes you appreciate everything around you more. It makes you want to pull the people you cherish the most close to you and never let go.

Nami veered away from the scenery before her and so she can look at the green-haired swordsman.

Zoro looks so full of life now—a stark contrast to the man lying down on the futon a few days ago; pale, unconscious and heavily wounded.

A bandage was still wrapped around his head. Nami knew he still have wounds that need to heal. She should chastise him from going straight into training when he should be resting but she knows it’s just a waste of time.

Instead she reached out and softly touched his cheek, wanting to convey to him without words that she’s grateful that he is still here. That he and Luffy are still here.

That they are all still here.

When she finally moved, Zoro met her halfway.

And Nami instantly knew that their kiss is finally meant to happen.

She always thought they'd be drunk when they do kiss. They are always drinking whenever they find themselves in that certain moment before a kiss should happen. And she had it in her mind that they’d only get the courage to push further and finally do it because there is alcohol surging in their systems.

But here they are. All sober.

"Oi what are you thinking about?

Nami blinked as she was pulled out of her ruminations by that familiar drawl.

She pushed away from the Sunny's railing to look at the newcomer. She had quietly slipped away from the on-going celebration of her birthday for a fresh air. She had drunk a lot. A lot. With Jinbe know officially a member of their crew, the toasts just keep going and going.

Damn fishmen and their alcohol tolerance! Jinbe can hold his liquor much better than she or Zoro combined can! She took a deep breath before answering. "Nothing. Just taking a break," she tried to act nonchalant by shrugging her shoulders. Zoro chuckled. "Seems like you are at your limit." It was dark outside alright. But she can make out that certain glint in his lone, grey eye whenever he’s teasing her. She huffed. "Dream on. Don't even think you can best me. I can still go on." He laughed. "Still confident you can top me huh?"

Nami grinned cattily at that. "Oh Zoro. I know and you know that I can," she winked at him, deliberately letting the innuendo hang between them while trailing a finger down the uncovered part of his chest.

Zoro seemed to get it immediately much to her surprise because the grin on his face was shit-eating.

She cut-off any remark he had on that by poking him on the chest with her finger. “Why are you here anyway?”

“You were missed.”

She brightened up at that. “You mean you missed me?”

His only answer was a huff of his own. But she had become so good at reading him and the not-so-cleverly-hidden meaning of his words and actions. She knew she hit it spot on.

“Let’s go back,” he invited nodding towards the galley’s direction. “They’ll wonder where we are.”

“Let’s just let them,” she said cheekily. “We are not exactly hiding anything.”

He looked amused and brushed a swift kiss on her nose.

“It’s your birthday,” Zoro reminded her. “And you have birthday girl responsibilities.”

Nami raised an eyebrow at him. “Responsibilities?”

“Yeah. Like start a drinking competition.” He looked so happy with the idea that he can raid all their booze stock without being reprimanded by Sanji. “I’m getting impatient.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “Fine,” she grudgingly agreed. “Let’s go back and have our usual competition. I’ll beat your ass fair and square. You lose… I get all your allowances in the next three islands.”

Zoro just snorted at her claim and easily wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. He planted a kiss on her temple. She giggled when his lips brushed against the shell of her ear before moving to kiss her fully.

This time they definitely don’t need any drinking competitions or alcohol to do it.

“Come on then,” Zoro said when he pulled away from her. He suddenly tugged her towards the stairs leading to the galley looking almost excited. “Let’s see if you’re really as good as you claim to be.” He was grinning menacingly at her.

Damn this man and his booze.

Nami groaned even as she let him cart her back to where she can hear the Luffy yelling ‘meat’ above the chatter of their crewmates’ voices.

She stopped him before he can push the door open.

"Be nice Zoro. It’s my special day,” she reminded him oh-so-sweetly so he’d go easy on her.

Zoro gave her a smug grin.

“Be nice Nami. I might let you sit on my face tonight for your special day."

His voice was low when he said that and it immediately sent Nami on fire—every single part of her being heating up at that.

 His grin was cocky as he opened the galley door before she can even retort, whispering ‘happy birthday’ in her ear, pushing her inside—back to her celebration, their crewmates and the Straw Hats signature chaos.

[mariacallous]

The imposition of the largest sanctions program since the Second World War in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine remains a key tool for limiting the Kremlin’s war machine. But it has inadvertently also had substantial secondary and tertiary effects, from the rewiring of European energy networks to myriad lawsuits over what insurers should have to pay for the Kremlin’s seizure of over 400 Western aircraft.

These unintended consequences have garnered far less attention than the intended ones, but the former are still multiplying and there are tens of billions of dollars already at stake in them. While sanctions rightfully continue to be tweaked to maximize their impact, policymakers have not paid due attention to the legal spats and sanctions challenges that have already arisen in their wake. Their outcome will greatly determine the effectiveness of the sanctions and the extent to which the Kremlin or the West will bear their cost.

This is not the first time the West has had to deal with such issues. At the outbreak of the war with Japan in 1941, the U.S. seized assets and businesses owned by Japanese nationals on its soil, acting under the Trading with the Enemy Act. These actions, while directed primarily at the war-time adversary, inevitably wrought a lot of collateral damage, as investors in Japanese enterprises, their creditors, or depositors in Japanese-owned banks, were often the American public.

It took years to untangle the resulting mess. And yet, when all was said and done, the U.S. Supreme Court and Congress acted to protect the interests of these investors, and ensure both the orderly liquidation and the equitable distribution of proceeds to those affected. Thus, the depositors of Yokohama Specie Bank, had their claims on the “yen certificates” preserved in a decision by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1967, allowing the certificate holders to recover at least some economic value from proceeds of the bank’s liquidation.

In short, there is a blueprint for handling the legal spats that result from waging economic war. That blueprint, in broad terms, is to act forcefully against the economic interests of the enemy, yet make full use of the institutions of law and justice for the interests of affected parties at home.

Today, as Russia and the West remain engaged in a full-scale economic war, this blueprint seems largely ignored. What we see instead, is perhaps the opposite: The adversary ruthlessly subverting the toolkit of the “rules-based international order” for its benefit with lawsuits that seem to lead Western institutions down the path of treading softly where Russian interests are concerned, while Western investors and, of course, Ukraine take the brunt of the costs and receive little or no protection.

Consider the June G-7 summit, where member states united on a plan for using the returns earned by Russia’s $300 billion in frozen sovereign assets to aid Ukraine, of which $200 billion are held as cash and securities at the Belgian financial company Euroclear. Leaders of the G7 have agreed to effectively monetize the future income flow on the frozen assets, and turn it into an immediate $50 billion in loans to Ukraine. This is as stark an acknowledgement as possible that Russia’s assets will not be returned to it any time soon, even if outright seizure is off the table for now following a chorus of complaints that doing so would not be compatible with international law.

Nevertheless, Brussels has insisted Kyiv will not receive any of the five billion euros that the frozen assets have generated thus far and continues to tread softly against Russia and its proxies. The reason: Euroclear itself is worried about lawsuits brought by Russia over this action and its freezing of other securities affected by the Western sanctions regime.

According to Euroclear, it is facing “a significant number of legal proceedings…almost exclusively in Russian courts,” where “the probability of unfavourable rulings is high since Russia does not recognize the international sanctions.”

This reveals a fundamental flaw in the arguments made by proponents of the so-called “rules-based international order.” Russia can appeal to its structures too—and, slowly but surely, make sanctions even less effective than they already are. Meanwhile in the West, the powers that be continue to dither, and ignore the blueprints for economic confrontation from the past.

Russia’s efforts here are already advancing: thus the suits against Euroclear, and the efforts of Mikhail Fridman—the sanctioned Russian oligarch—to return the nearly $16 billion of his former assets through an arbitration claim under the Soviet-Belgium-Luxembourg Bilateral Investment Treaty. As its name gives away, the pact actually even predates Russia’s establishment as an independent state and was inherited from the Soviet Union. It has not been updated since, but cannot be so easily unwound—its final clause notes that it applies to investments made before its hypothetical abrogation for 15 years thereafter.

It is also this treaty that Russia would ultimately use to try and have its domestic court rulings against Euroclear and other Western institutions enforced. We can be sure that there is more to come: Russia has already promised “endless legal challenges” if its assets or the income on these assets are seized. One of the largest such clashes is likely imminent, and will require politicians decide how to proceed. On 7 June the Permanent Court of Arbitration awarded Uniper, which was taken over after being bailed out by the German state, €13 billion in damages from Gazprom over Putin’s decision to toggle Europe’s gas taps in 2022, which forced Germany to bail out Uniper. A Russian arbitration court, on the other hand, has awarded Gazprom €14 billion from Uniper in the dispute. Berlin aims to re-IPO Uniper but will hardly be able to do so with such an albatross hanging above it.

It is therefore all the more remarkable that Western policymakers have not yet addressed how they intend to overcome such risks, nor why Russia remains permitted to take advantage of Western legal system under circumstances of a full-scale economic warfare.

Potential vulnerability to legal action by Russia and its proxies, and a lack of credible or coherent response by the West appears to have led Euroclear to take a number of actions that are clearly not in the Western interest and are often inconsistent with its past practices.

The clearing house has, for example, refused to label a number of securities as being in default in cases where the underlying entity has chosen to default rather than being forced to into default by sanctions. This has not just affected Russian corporate borrowers but even the debts of the government of neighboring Belarus. Belarus’ sovereign Eurobonds that were due to be repaid in early 2023 and are still unpaid, and thus in “default”; but Euroclear has instead designated these as “matured”. This semantic choice has significant implications, blocking the clearing and settlement of these bonds and thus impacting Western creditors – while Belarus, a key ally to Russia in its war, remains (intentionally or not) shielded from the full consequences of its default.

Good explanations for these actions are lacking, but it does appear that Euroclear has, in effect, accepted Belarus’ purported excuse: that sanctions prevent it from paying. But not all sanctions are a barrier to payment—certainly not those that have been imposed on Belarus. Notably, the Development Bank of Belarus, which faces a similar sanctions regime as the sovereign government, successfully made its coupon payment in November 2022, which was, albeit with delay, passed on to the bondholders by Euroclear. Suspension of payments, then, is simply a policy choice, and indeed, the Development Bank ultimately followed the sovereign and suspended payments as well, and this year failed to repay its Eurobonds at maturity. Euroclear took the same action with respect to the Development Bank’s bonds: they are marked as “matured” instead of “in default”.

This sort of leniency, and, seemingly, a fear of calling a “default” on a Russian ally, is without precedent, and completely at odds with the approaches by rating agencies, investors, the World Bank, the ISDA Determinations Committee (as it relates to Russia) and Euroclear’s own actions as to other sovereigns. In the recent past, the defaulted bonds of Sri Lanka, Lebanon, Zambia are all correctly marked by Euroclear as “in default” and continue to settle.

For Western creditors of Belarus, its Development Bank and the similarly placed Russian corporate borrowers, the block on trading and settlement by Euroclear is clearly harmful. For Russia and its ally, the lack of a “default” label by a key player in the Western financial infrastructure looks oddly protective. It also makes a mockery of the fact that sanctions are meant to constrain the inflow of funds to Russia and its allies instead of limiting their outflow and reducing the resources available to Russia and its allies to pursue an unjust war.

How should Western policymakers respond to these challenges? Firstly, by looking at the existing playbook for economic war, and treating as many claims as standard defaults and bankruptcies as possible. Secondly, by recognizing that the “international rules-based order” is in fact largely a set of established norms, particularly when it comes to creditor disputes, and that Russia has spent at least the last decade seeking to undermine these—beginning with its attempt to muck up Ukraine’s restructuring in 2014, something that continues to wind its way through the English courts.

That is the least that can be done to protect Western interests, free up more funds for Ukraine, and defang the Kremlin’s attempts to weaponize international law and institutions.

[lalarambles]

bound by blood - pt. 1

warnings: arranged marriage, mafia, fluff (?)

pairing: mafia!al pacino x fem!doctor!reader

description: when two powerful mafia families force their progenies into an arranged marriage to strengthen their empire and keep their enemies at bay, the pair battles through the dangers that the mob life brings them.

author’s note: this IS going to be a smutty fan fiction not to worry also i haven’t watched the godfather yet but Al Pacino is so goddamn fine and i really just wanted to write a fan fiction about him and the mafia.

"You know, I've never met anyone quite like you," Al said, his eyes locked on hers as they sat in the quiet study of their newly shared home. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of the pendant light above them casting a warm halo around their heads.

"Is that a compliment or a warning?" she quipped, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was beautiful, with a sharp wit to match, and he found himself drawn to her in ways he hadn't expected. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes held a spark of defiance that intrigued him.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his whiskey. "A bit of both, I suppose." He set the glass down, leaning back into the leather chair. "Our families, they've known each other for generations. But you and I, we're like two strangers playing a high-stakes game of poker."

Her smile grew wider, her eyes glinting with the same challenge he knew so well from his own reflection. "And what makes you think I don't know how to play?"

Al leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I've seen how you handle yourself at the dinner table, how you navigate the conversations. You're not just a pretty face, you're a force to be reckoned with."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that admiration I detect?"

"Maybe a touch," he admitted, his own smile growing. "But I'm also curious. What's your endgame in this arranged marriage?"

Her gaze didn't waver. "Survival. And perhaps, if I play my cards right, a bit of happiness."

Al nodded, understanding all too well the complexities of their situation. Their union wasn't born from love, but from a merger of two powerful mafia families. It was a strategic move, one that would strengthen their empire and keep their enemies at bay. But as they sat there, the weight of their new reality pressing down on them, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to be found between them.

He took a deep breath, deciding to lay his cards on the table. "Look, I know this isn't ideal for either of us. But I've seen enough of this life to know that sometimes, you gotta make the best of what you're given. And you," he paused, his eyes searching hers, "you're definitely worth getting to know."

Her expression softened a fraction, and she took a sip of her own drink, the amber liquid shimmering in the low light. "Alright," she said finally. "Let's start with the basics. What's your favorite thing to do when you're not... well, doing 'mafia' stuff?"

Al leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her question. "You mean, like a hobby?"

"Yeah," she said, setting her drink aside. "What do you do to unwind? To take your mind off the... business?"

Pacino pondered for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor. "I used to enjoy cooking," he said, his voice a bit distant. "It's been a while, though."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? That's a surprising hobby for someone in your... line of work."

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep. "My grandmother taught me. Said a man who can't feed his family isn't much of a man. Plus, it's a good way to keep things... simple, you know?"

Her interest was piqued. "I'd love to see you cook sometime."

Al's eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise in them. "You'd like that?"

"More than you know," she said, her voice soft. "It's a way to connect, isn't it? To share something personal, outside of all... this." She gestured to the opulent room, the heavy air of their arranged union hanging between them.

He nodded, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "How about we start with something simple? Maybe tomorrow night, I'll make us dinner."

Her heart fluttered at the prospect of a quiet evening together, away from the prying eyes of their families and the ever-present danger of their lifestyle. "I'd like that," she said, feeling a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make this marriage work.

-

The following evening, Al found himself in the kitchen, an unfamiliar territory in the grand house. The room was large and gleaming, with state-of-the-art appliances that gleamed under the spotlights. He felt a pang of nostalgia as he rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the ingredients he needed to recreate his grandmother's recipes. His hands, usually clenched around the grip of a gun or the steering wheel of a luxury car, now gently squeezed tomatoes and chopped onions. The aroma of garlic sizzling in olive oil began to fill the air, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in years.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and he turned to see her standing in the doorway, dressed in a simple white blouse and bell bottom blue jeans. She had her hair pulled back into a loose bun, and she looked so different from the woman he'd met at their wedding, surrounded by the trappings of their shared legacy. "Need any help?" she asked, her voice tentative.

"You know your way around a kitchen?" Al replied, his eyes teasing.

"I can manage not to burn down the house," she said with a laugh, stepping closer. "What are we making?"

Al handed her a wooden spoon. "We're going to make my Nonna's famous marinara sauce. It's a family secret, so you're officially initiated."

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took the spoon, standing next to him at the stove. They worked in companionable silence, their movements in sync as they stirred and tasted, seasoned and simmered. The room grew warm with the scent of tomatoes and herbs, mingling with the faint smell of the cigar Al had left smoldering in an ashtray on the counter.

"So, tell me about your family," she said, breaking the quiet. "Your parents, your siblings. What was it like growing up in this... world?"

Al's smile faltered for a moment, his eyes clouding over as he thought back to his childhood. "It was complicated," he finally said. "My father was a man of honor, but he was also a man of his time. He taught me the family business, the code we live by. But he also made sure I knew that there's more to life than power and money."

He added a pinch of salt to the sauce, watching as it bubbled and danced in the pot. "My mother, she was the heart of the family. She kept us all in line, made sure we knew right from wrong. She was the one who taught me that even in darkness, there's room for kindness."

Her hand paused mid-stir, and she looked at him with a newfound respect. "That's a rare trait in our world."

"It is," he agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. "But it's one I've tried to hold onto, even when the path gets... bloody."

She nodded, understanding all too well the duality of their lives. Her own upbringing had been a mix of luxury and lessons in loyalty and fear. The stove clock ticked away the minutes as they worked side by side, the simmering sauce a metaphor for their tentative relationship.

"And what about you?" Al asked, his curiosity genuine. "What's your story?"

She took a deep breath, her grip on the spoon tightening slightly. "My father... he never had any sons. So, I became the one he taught everything to. The business, the family history, the importance of loyalty. I was his right hand, his confidante."

Al nodded, a newfound respect for her strength etched on his face. "That explains the steel in your spine."

"It had to be that way," she said, her voice even. "I had to be twice as tough, twice as smart. To prove I was worthy."

Al watched her, his eyes full of understanding. "And you did," he said. "You're more than worthy."

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. They continued to cook, their conversation flowing as easily as the wine they'd opened to pair with their meal. They talked about their childhoods, their hopes, and their fears, sharing stories that painted a picture of the people they were before their worlds collided.

As the night went on, the kitchen grew messier, but their connection grew stronger. They laughed over small mishaps, like when a splatter of sauce landed on her nose, and she retaliated with a playful flick of pasta that sent him into a fit of laughter. It was a simple, domestic scene, a stark contrast to the violent lives they both led.

Dinner was served at a small, intimate table set for two in the corner of the vast dining room. The sauce bubbled over perfectly al dente spaghetti, the plates steaming in the candlelight. They sat across from each other, the air thick with anticipation. This was more than just a meal; it was a silent agreement to explore the uncharted waters of their relationship.

With the first bite, she closed her eyes, savoring the flavors that danced on her tongue. "Al, this is incredible," she murmured, opening her eyes to find him watching her with a pleased expression.

"It's all in the ingredients," he said with a shrug, though his cheeks colored slightly at her praise. "Fresh basil, garlic, and a hint of oregano. Just like Nonna used to make."

They ate in companionable silence, the clink of silverware on fine china punctuating their conversation. The candles flickered, casting shadows that danced on the walls, creating an intimate bubble around them. The tension of their situation, the weight of their families' expectations, seemed to dissipate with each mouthful of food.

As they shared the meal, Al found himself opening up more than he had in years. He spoke of his dreams of one day leaving the mafia behind, of starting a legitimate business where he could use his skills without fear of retribution. She listened, her eyes never leaving his face, and for the first time, he saw a glimmer of understanding in her gaze.

"You know, I'm a doctor," she said, her voice low and steady. "I run the diagnostics department at the hospital just down the street."

Al's fork paused mid-air, surprise etched on his face. "A doctor?"

"Yes," she said with a nod, a hint of pride in her voice. "I've always had a passion for helping people. After what I saw growing up, I knew I wanted to do something that made a real difference."

Al's eyes widened. "I had no idea," he said, his voice a mix of admiration and bewilderment. "How do you manage that, with everything else going on?"

"It's not easy," she admitted, twirling her spaghetti around the tines of her fork. "But it's who I am. I studied hard, went to medical school, and fought tooth and nail to get where I am. It's my way of... balancing the scales, you know?"

Al nodded thoughtfully, his respect for her deepening with every word. "Yeah, I get it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We both have our ways of keeping our souls from turning to stone in this business.

The conversation grew deeper as the night progressed, their shared experiences creating a bond that went beyond their arranged marriage. They talked about their hopes for the future, the lives they wanted to lead beyond the shadows of their families' empires. The candles burned low, casting a warm glow on their faces as they leaned closer, the weight of their newfound connection palpable.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

thank you all for reading! this is going to be a series so stay tuned. comments and reblogs are welcome!!! see you next time (≧◡≦) ♡

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Beyond the Four Leaves of Fortune

I actually wrote my @inklings-challenge (thank you to the runners for holding the challenge!) story on the 28th, intending to post it on the same day given the inspiration from Holy Innocents Day but, uh....didn't. Also, excuse some of the typos/clunkiness as I didn't really edit well because 3k words.

The most important thing to note here is that I took inspiration from Jeremiah 31: 16-17, the verse after the whole Rachel weeping thing. And also that it features the same characters from the previous challenge. With that, here it goes!

-

“I think…” Wynan began, side-eyeing the scene in front of her with the air of someone long-resigned to everything, “that it should be illegal for people who have read too many books for their own good to get wrapped up in adventures.”

Relani and Meryan glanced at each other, perhaps a little guiltily.

Or so Wynan chose to interpret, just for her sanity. They were, after all, hiding a rather overly large creature behind their backs and not very inconspicuously. She couldn’t identify the creature right away, not having the breadth of knowledge Meryan had on the nuances of other worlds nor Relani’s impressive mental encyclopedia of obscure creatures. But the important things was that it was dark blue, snake-like (or perhaps wyrm-like with its scales?), dripping an odd gray liquid on the living room carpet that was probably blood…and very, very visible.

“We readers know all too well how things go and end,” Wynan continued, abandoning the laptop she’d been writing something on. She leaned against the door to the kitchen (opposite to the entrance from the mudroom), crossing her arms and quirking an eyebrow. “There’s no stakes and no drama, so involving us in the plot really will be no fun because we’re gonna just make the most boringly safe choices.”

Like, for example, opposing the adoption—not healing, since it looked like it needed patching up—of a magical beast.

Meryan glanced at the wyrm-like creature half squished into the mudroom, then back to Wynan. “Um…he’s a wyrm from one of the fairy-tale-like worlds who almost got lost to the void,” she attempted, her voice robotically professional. “We’ve decided to name him Léf.”

At her words, the dark blue wyrm weakly floated into the room, able to fit due to magically decreasing his size. He made a huffing noise as he flopped on the floor, the gray liquid dribbling out of him staining the carpet.

Wynan made the mistake of looking into his eyes, black full of blue stars the same color as his scales.

Léf whimpered.

“…crap.”

…………

“After he’s all healed up, we do have to release Léf back into his world,” Relani admitted a few hours later, when they’d patched up the tragically compliant wyrm and put him into one of their emptier rooms.

Meryan turned around so swiftly that she almost spilled the pot of broth in her hands.

“What?? Why? What if Léf doesn’t want to go back?!” she half-heartedly protested.

Like Wynan, Meryan was also a reader and thus aware of how this story would play out.

Also like Wynan, though (or perhaps it was the reverse), Meryan had become captivated by the wyrm’s adorable eyes and his clear exhaustion of life. So despite knowing better, they decided that maybe this time they could let the story play out differently and keep the wyrm with them.

“I mean…this house does need a pet,” Wynan contemplated, far too innocently for someone who had said literal hours ago that she wouldn’t support any idea that came from this. “I know we have Meluan—”

“Meluan isn’t a pet,” Relani sighed, though she smiled at the banter thrown at the currently-absent fourth member of the house. “And do you really think she’ll allow this?”

All three of them flashed back to their various attempts to keep animals here at the edge of the universe.

“…she probably will, to be honest,” Wynan reminisced. “And then we’ll have to repair the walls again.”

“Or rebuild the roof,” Relani reminded.

“Or find an obscure chemical to remove sea monster mucus from the floorboards,” Meryan finished with a sigh, sitting down (bowl of broth and all).

It looked like the story wouldn’t play out differently this time, after all, Wynan thought. Well, she’d tried not to get attached…for all but two minutes, at least. But you couldn’t just give them a helpless animal and expect them not to get attached, so who’s fault was it, really?

But back to the matter at hand.

“Well…I wonder what led him here, anyway,” Wynan spoke up, frowning at the wyrm curled up on the fuzzy and currently blue carpet.

Right now, Léf was breathing easily and fast asleep, but there was something about its…everything that didn’t sit right with Wynan. Barring the fact that the Abode Before the Void rarely received animals—and, if they did, they were companions of (or remnants of) their owners who’d come to the void—there was just something about the wyrm that seemed…off. Clearly, he wasn’t a remnant of someone the sisters couldn’t save or they would have felt it but what was he?

Unaware of Wynan’s thoughts, Meryan easily supplied some of the information missing. “I can’t really tell what exactly the creature means to his world, but he comes from a fairy-tale-esque land…the ones where the myths and folk tales of other universes seem to come alive?” she explained, resting her arms on her knees with a fond look at the sleeping creature. “The unique point in this world is the way these fantastical creatures co-exist peacefully with a technologically advancing world. A modern fairy tale, to put it in other terms.”

Relani grimaced and crawled closer to the sleeping creature. “I can add a bit more.”

Fearlessly, she brushed asides the filmy light blue material that made up Léf’s mane. The wyrm slept on, affected by Wynan’s special power over dreams and rest to not wake unless necessary, and thus was unaware of the moment Relani revealed three white shapes on its forehead.

“Ah, I thought so,” Relani hummed. “He’s a familiar, or that world’s version of one, anyway. The shape on Léf’s forehead is a sign that he’s been claimed.”

She was about to edge away from the creature before Wynan stopped her.

“Hang on,” Wynan said, standing up and studying the marks.

“You sense anything?” Meryan remained where she was, simply resting her head on her arms as she observed her sister working.

Wynan nodded slowly, stepping back. “The mark is broken…I don’t know what exactly that means, but I can sense it was broken and that it wasn’t caused by either death or some…dramatic moment of sacrifice on the owner’s part.”

Wynan turned in time to catch the storms that were Meryan’s eyes narrow.

“Well, I do know what that means, and that means whoever Léf’s owner was, they broke their bond…crudely, too, if the mark is still there,” she explained, the professional tone she’d taken on again lined with fury. “No wonder Léf was driven here.”

“Broken bonds are no joke, between people but especially unequal ones like this,” Relani sighed deeply, stepping back as well. “I wonder what Léf’s story is.”

“I could try looking,” Wynan offered conversationally, sitting back down next to the creature. She absently scratched at the surface of the carpet. “I mean, there’s no guarantee on what he’ll dream about, but I could take a look in there and see what sorts of dreams he’s having. I’ve found that animals usually dream memories since they have more limited imaginations than those with souls.”

Relani scooted back a little, with a hand gesturing to, by all means, go ahead.

Followed by Meryan’s, “Oh, could you?” Wynan placed a warm hand gently on Léf’s neck. The touch wasn’t strictly necessary, but Wynan liked the thought of there being an action needed before invading the dreamspace of someone’s mind. Even if that someone was a less intelligent creature.

And, as it usually was with less intelligent but magic-touched creatures, the dreams she saw were more fragmented memories, coming from the limited perspective of a familiar clearly enslaved by the whims of his master or mistress.

Warm fires. Robotic pats that didn’t hold much affection but were appreciated nonetheless. Frustrated growls, not necessarily directed at him but terrifying nonetheless. Words of magic. Commands. Burning villages. Blood in the mouth. A prison he was banished into until called. A tattoo of a creature that looked like Léf.

And the clearest dream/memory?

It was of a figure in white smashing a glowing red crystal upon its head—its familiar mark, if Wynan had to hazard a guess. Pain soon followed, and Wynan instinctively let the warm blanket of her magic cover the terrible memory, soothing its sting as it passed like a video on a screen than a past reality lived.

She stayed in there for a while longer, knowing she had the full story but just in case Léf required more mental relief, but only felt his dull pain and exhaustion along with hints of relief in the darkness.

“Hmm,” Wynan commented upon exiting.

She was half aware of her sisters exchanging a look.

“Meaning?” Relani prompted soon after.

“I think he was bonded to an evil wizard or…whatever the magic people there are called,” Wynan slowly parsed, remembering the emotions.

Behind her, Meryan snorted. “No surprise there.”

At Wynan’s side, Relani’s lips thinned. Relani was also another reader, and the three knew way too many stories to hear that and not instantly conclude what happened.

“I mean, the story isn’t as smooth as that,” Wynan interrupted the silence, waving her hand in front of Léf’s covered mark. “His bond with his owner was severed, yes, but I don’t think it was done by them. I think they treated him…well enough. Perhaps not great, but there wasn’t any abuse to note of.” She thought about it a bit more. “But I think Léf was under the power of a storybook villain, if that’s anything.”

The fury in Meryan’s colorful eyes softened.

“I see…so Léf has his own stains,” she muttered, lifting her head up a little. “Things that stole his ability to claim his own innocence but wasn’t guilty of, not really.”

Wynan nodded. “That seems to be the story, yeah.”

“So, I’m supposing the hero of this story had to get rid of the villain’s steed before beating the actual villain once and for all?” Relani continued, lips twisting in a half-playful, half-regretful smile.

Again, Wynan bobbed her head in agreement, edging back to sit on Meryan’s side.

“I’m guessing lots of people had to bear the tragedy for the story to reach its happy ending,” Wynan concluded, looking at the poor wyrm driven to the edge of ever universe. “And we’re looking at one such innocent lost to the void.”

“Almost lost,” Relani corrected, stroking the wyrm.

At her comforting touch, Léf let out a deep sigh, as if relieved, as if trusting he was somewhere safe.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” Meryan half-heartedly attempted the question, not expecting anything from it. “Can we even let him return to his world when he was pretty brutally expelled from it?”

Continuing to pet the wyrm’s smooth scaled, Relani laughed quietly. “I’m sure Léf will be fine back there once he heals. We can only hope that he’ll find a better wizard or mage to bond with, if he ever allows himself to be caught again.”

Yep…as expected.

That was how the story always went. One of them found a helpless animal somewhere (not usually near the universe’s edge, though), they contemplated keeping it, a story of their appearance there was revealed, either mayhem or a realization that it had to return to its world followed, and then all of them went back to their lives missing the animal.

Still…it wasn’t so bad to get attached and maybe try to shift the story just a little, right?

Maybe that’s part of the story, Wynan thought, laughing a little to herself. Tell them we won’t get attached, get attached anyway, learn to let go. And with our life out here, it’s not like we won’t ever see them again.

“YO!”

Following the muffled shout, the door to the empty room housing Léf burst open, revealing a rather frazzled Meluan panting heavily and shouldering a rather large bag. She barely gave a second glance at the large wyrm taking up half of the space and waved her arms frantically at the other women.

“First of all, I’m back. Secondly, I am in need of support,” she gasped out between heavy breaths.

Unfazed, Wynan dryly sighed, “Stop panting. You literally cannot physically get tired in this house.”

At the same time, Relani chuffed and asked, “What did you do, Mel?”

“I’m emotionally tired! And need emotional support!” Meluan protested, her gaze bouncing from Wynan to Relani. “Also, I did nothing! You’re all the ones who forced me to make the library run this time, and unfortunately, the Librarian decided she wanted to tag along so someone please give me emotional support!”

Meryan, who had been laughing at the exchange, hopped up. “I’ll go,” she giggled, taking the large pot of broth with her. “You guys stay here and watch over Léf.”

“Have fun,” Relani saluted, the hand over her mouth not at all covering her mirth.

“And leave the bag behind,” Wynan added, knowing it likely contained the books they’d sent Meluan out to borrow.

Instinctively, Wynan caught the heavy bag immediately thrown at her, smiling at their usually unperturbed housemate looking so clearly bothered. “I’d wish you luck, but you’re just being dramatic,” Wynan called out as Meryan closed the door.

Incensed despite allowing herself to be dragged by Meryan, Meluan grumbled, “The Librarian is in my house! That’s not dramatic at all!”

“She’s not going to bite you in our house,” Wynan heard Meryan reply.

“Uh huh, anyway. What do you mean by having named the wyrm I saw? Or did he come prepacked with one?”

“…well, it hasn’t been long, but…”

Their voices faded away, leaving Relani and Wynan alone with the wyrm who had once been a familiar.

Léf’s quiet presence in the room reminded Wynan of a time long ago when she’d just been Wynan instead of…whatever she was now. That individual had loved dragons and had badly wished her world had them, to keep as a pet or simply just to ride. She’d seen a lot of dragons and creatures in the same genus since that particular Wynan’s childhood fantasy, but she’d hardly ever been able to exist in a room this peacefully with one.

“…it’s always gotta be the pets who can’t stay,” Wynan swore, though she smiled in spite of herself. “I hope Léf has a better story when he returns, at least.” Léf couldn’t be happy here, not with the limited space within their home and such nearness to the end of the universe.

Sending a smile her way, Relani laughed her agreement. “I hope so, too.”

“Kind of a shame his story had to end so tragically, though,” Wynan sighed, thinking idly back on the small tale they’d managed to piece together based on their collective knowledge of narratives and longtime experience. “It seems that in the fights between heroes and villains, there will always be innocents on both sides who will have to die.”

Relani’s brows furrowed in response, but Wynan wasn’t offended, knowing that her sister was merely thinking.

“But,” Wynan continued anyway, chuckling ruefully, “I guess it was like that for all of us, too…the way so many ‘faceless’ characters had to die for our story to continue, right?”

It made her wonder if one day they’d be those in the “faceless crowd” fated to die to advance the story and spur the hero to glory. She hoped not…she was content being the lost story that she was. But if there was one thing she as a reader knew about lost stories, is that there was always someone out there who wanted them found.

“Well, Léf’s story isn’t over yet, is it?” Relani suddenly interrupted Wynan’s musing, her eyes twinkling like veiled stars. “After all, there was someone before the edge to find him and help him recover so he could go back.”

Wynan almost rolled her eyes but found that she couldn’t really contest that statement. “Okay, not wrong. Of course you’d see it like that, though.”

“Oi,” Relani protested, leaning back on her arms, though her lips were still stretched with amusement. “It’s not optimism when it’s just the truth, Wynan. We know better than anyone how even those who have wandered off the edge, those actually lost within the void, have been found. No one is faceless in the end, even if it is true that to each other we can sometimes be mere side characters fated to die.”

Relani sighed, shuffling while still seated to throw an arm around Wynan, who leaned into the warmth offered as they both gazed at Léf’s sleeping form.

“Look…there are people who are mourning for the faceless who had to die to continue the story, aren’t there?” Relani insisted. “And there are going to be people who want to rescue them, too, like we do. But that’d be another story—their story, not the current protagonist’s—to tell.”

The only response Wynan had was to snuggle closer into Relani, suddenly feeling sleepy herself as happened with her (it had nearly given Meryan a heart attack once when she’d found Wynan sleeping inside a closet). Memories burst within her mind from Relani’s words, refutations and arguments as well as evidence and agreements to what her sister had said. How there was always someone in this multiverse that would know of a tragedy and mourn the people lost—that was why they were there for, too—and try and reach out to save them.

Well, Relani’s usually right when in these things, Wynan conceded, feeling her eyes shut. And she’s right in that we’ve always been there to fetch people driven to this point, aren’t we? But I’ll tell her she’s right when I wake up, though. I want to sleep…

The story would still be there when she opened her eyes.

[synnthamonsugar]

Love you getting pelted with asks in the spirit of saturnalia. Here's my challenge- give Crow an interesting dynamic with *literally anyone*

Have some Crow & Selene :)

“You know, it was kind of cool,” says Crow.

“What was?” Selene asks.

“You were, when you . . . y’know,” he gestures a slashing motion across his neck, “To Uldren.”

“Oh my Light,” she shrinks behind her glass of Queensfoil. “Why do you have to bring that up?”

“I’m just thinking. All the time that I spent wondering what he did. What I did—? I don’t know,” Crow swishes his glass in low circles above the agate countertop. Within, the black-purple liquid swirls, scintillating in the light of the crystal chandeliers. “Whoever it was, all that time I wasted worrying about how it happened. It was shocking to see you and Petra, but once the initial disbelief went away, and I could look at those memories objectively . . .

“Well. It was badass.”

Selene is gone now, tail of her cloak clenched in her hands across her face, mortified.

“Don’t tell me you feel bad about it.”

“Sky no, Crow,” she emerges, blue in the cheeks, “Uldren was a shithead. I would do it a hundred times more if I had to.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s a weird thing to be told. I don’t expect anyone I kill to review me on it,” she takes a gulp of the drink. “Except maybe Taniks, or Riven. And I’m not sure either counts.”

The genuineness of Crow’s laugh is enough to settle some of her nerves.

Selene leans close like they’re at a crowded bar and not one of the perpetually-abandoned pavilions throughout the Dreaming City. Asks quietly, “Was I really that cool?”

He nods. “You and Petra were both —”

“If you ever tell her that, she’ll shoot you a second time,” Selene mumbles —

“— very grand, very heroic. All of my restored memories feel …unreal, I guess. Like a dream, or a recollected story. That one feels like it was out of an action movie. You know?” He laughs, a note of apprehension in it. “I feel weird saying it.”

He finishes his drink, setting the glass down against the counter with a sharp clink. “Better you two than anyone else. I can’t imagine my last mortal memory being gobbled up by that abomination. Or hunted down by some Praxic dorks droning about sacred fire. To be there with friends, past and future—“

Selene flinched a bit.

“It was a better death than he— I — deserved.”

“Better or worse didn’t factor into it. We did what we needed to. Anyone who wanted to protect the Reef would have.”

“But not everyone does. You knew the stakes.”

“I hope we still do.”

[mayajadewrites]

Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Three: Sauce

You pad your way downstairs to the kitchen where you Levi’s back is facing you while he stirs some sort of sauce on the stove.

He seems to not have noticed you enter the room, so you take the time to observe him. His cold demeanor is softened a bit by the aroma of the chamomile tea as he stirs.

You’re not used to a quiet house. Growing up, people were always yelling and arguing - filling the space with anger. You take another step toward Levi, sliding onto the barstool.

“Are you gonna just watch me like a creep?” Levi said without turning around. Your eyes got wide as you felt the same butterflies in your stomach again. “It’s rude to stare.”

“Sorry. It just smells so good down here.” You tap your fingers on the counter. “I was wondering… if I could help you cook?”

Levi turned around, his facial expression unsure. “I’m just making pasta, it’s easy-“

“I’ve never cooked anything.” You admit. “I’ve… never had the chance to.”

Levi’s lips twitched as he watched you speak. He mumbles something before nodding. “Okay.”

You walk to the stove that Levi was cooking on, noticing your height difference. Levi isn’t the tallest, but neither are you. You’re about 5’2” on a good day. You still have to look up at him to talk to him.

You observe Levi stir with his right hand, his left hand occupied with his tea cup. He places his fingers over the cup instead of using the handle.

“Did you want some tea?” He asks you as he sets his cup down.

“Sure.” You nod. “Where do you keep the cups?”

“The cabinet right above your head.”

You grab a teacup and Levi slowly pours the liquid. He’s gentle with it - nothing like his demeanor gives off.

“Okay, so what type of sauce are you making with the pasta?”

“Vodka sauce.”

“Do you actually put alcohol in it?!” You say excitedly.

“You can. Are you old enough to drink?” You know he’s joking when he asks you, but you still play along.

“Just turned 21 yesterday!” You laugh. “But do people really put vodka in sauce?”

“Sometimes. Like I said, you can. It doesn’t get you drunk. It’s more like a splash of vodka.”

Levi teaches you how to make the sauce - onions, butter, minced garlic, tomato paste, various spices, and the liquids: vodka and pasta water.

“You stir the sauce while I start the pasta.” Levi hands you the spoon, letting your fingers touch his softly. You feel almost a spark, but you choose to ignore it.

“What type of pasta are you pairing with the sauce?”

“Shells.”

After your impromptu cooking lesson, it was finally time to eat. The sauce smelled amazing - like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. You felt a warm feeling knowing that you helped create this meal. While you stirred the sauce with the pasta, Levi pulled the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Will you be eating with me?” Levi asks as he sets his bowl down on his dining table.

“If I’m allowed to.”

“Why would you-never mind. Sit down.” Levi gestured to the seat.

“So on Monday, I’m going in the office for 8AM. You’ll have to be ready by 7:30 and we will drive together. I have a meeting with a new investor that I want you to sit in on and observe. And take notes.” Levi chewed on one of the shells.

“Got it.” You nod.

“Good thing we’re going shopping, you can’t wear any of this to my office.” Levi eyed you up and down.

“It was good enough for the interview, wasn’t it?” You tilt your head.

“Yeah, that’s just the interview though.”

You want to ask Levi about himself. What he likes, what he doesn’t like, how he prefers his tea.

“Do you like the food?” Levi asks you as he takes a sip of his water. “Your first meal you made yourself.”

“I love it.” You smile - a real smile. Levi only nods, his lips in a straight line. You observe the poutines of his lips – they look pillow soft.

“Tomorrow we can try to make something else.”

Levi may be cold sometimes, but moments like this make you think about what everyone else says about him. He doesn’t seem like a man who is heartless. He has a warm part to him, you just have to find it.

“Quit staring.”

The cold is back.

_______________________________________

Waking up in your bed Sunday morning felt like a dream. The plush white sheets surrounding you as your eyes fluttered open. The sunlight peered through the curtains - the warmth kissing your cheek.

You turn to look at your nightstand where there was already a cup of tea waiting for you.

Did Levi come in while you slept? He must’ve been disgusted by the way you slept. You’re known to snore and your mouth usually hangs open.

You yawn and make your way to the attached bathroom and brush your teeth. Skincare is next, you don’t have anything fancy since you never have the funds for it. So you cleanse and moisturize which is good enough for you.

You take a sip of the tea Levi made you before getting in the shower. The water pressure is perfect, the beads of water hitting your skin. You cleanse your body of all of last weeks problems.

You pull your only pair of jeans over your legs, wiggling them over your thighs and ass. You pulled a black sweater over your head and pair it with your platform converse that Ymir got you for your birthday last year.

You make your way downstairs to see Levi sipping a cup of tea, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“Good morning.” You smile as you bring the empty teacup to the sink to wash it. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Mmn.” Levi nods, finishing his own cup. He hands you his, letting you wash it. “We’re only going to a few stores, so let’s get a move on.”

Levi still doesn’t let you open doors for yourself. You’re slowly learning to just accept it because there’s absolutely no point in fighting it.

Levi pulled into the parking garage for the mall, but pulling into the valet area.

“I’ve never been to a mall with a valet.” You watch as Levi hands his keys to the attendant.

“Don’t fuck up my car.” Levi said to the man as he got out of the car. “If I notice even a scratch, it will be your ass that fixes it.”

There’s the demeanor that everyone warned you about. But he wasn’t like this last night, or even this morning.

Levi opened the door for you, holding out his hand for you to take. Contrary to the words he spoke only a few seconds ago, his hand is soft as he helps you out of the car.

This mall is enormous. Impeccably clean, similar to Levi’s home. You look into the spotless windows of the stores, noticing the people that are shopping in them. Without a doubt, they have a lot of money. They’re picking between bags, shoes, and belts.

Levi pulls you into a store, revealing wall to wall clothes.

“Look around.” Levi says lowly, checking his phone. “Pick out some stuff that you like and then you can try it on.”

You nod, venturing over to the front wall.

You check the tag of one of the blouses: $600. Your eyes widen at the number as your heart starts to race.

“Levi, this store is too expensive.” You say as you walk over to him.

“I didn’t ask you to look at prices. I asked you to pick out what you like.”

“$600 for a blouse is outrageous!”

“You need to get better at following directions.” Levi walks with you to the wall. “Don’t look at the tags. Pick out some things to try on. That’s not a question.”

You sigh and pick out clothes that you think will be good for work and casual. Blouses, dresses, shirts, sweaters along with pants, jeans, and some skirts.

“I’m gonna try them on now.” You say as you bring the clothes to the dressing room attendant.

“Mr. Ackerman! Great to see you.” The woman says, taking the clothes from your hands. “You brought your girlfriend, how sweet!”

You turn to Levi who has no reaction. So you should have no reaction. Just ignore it, it’s an honest mistake.

“Let me know if you need another size!” The associate says and you watch Levi sit in the seated area. His eyes are still glued to his phone, his expression sort of angry. You watched his eyebrows furrow as he tapped the screen.

You slip on a pair of pixie pants with a blouse, definitely a work outfit. The pants slide over your thighs perfectly, sculpting out your figure.

You look in the mirror and almost don’t recognize who it is that you see. You open the door and reveal yourself to Levi.

“Does this live up to your office expectations?” You do a twirl as you giggle.

Levi’s eyes were glued onto you. He trailed over your figure, paying special attention to the curve of your back to your ass.

“Good enough.” Levi says and looks back at his phone.

You roll your eyes and try on the rest of the outfits, receiving the Levi stamp of approval.

“Your total is $3,456.14.” The associate says at the counter. Your heart almost falls in your ass as Levi hands them cash.

“Levi, I-“

“Stop talking.” Levi grabbed the bags. “You need shoes now.”

Of course, another designer store. You haven’t seen shoes this expensive ever in your life. Levi watched as your marveled at the heels, appreciating all that there is to them.

“She wants to try these on.” Levi pointed to two pairs of heels.

You don’t protest for once as she brings the boxes out. The first pair are black patent leather pointed toe heels, the other are black block heels.

You slip off your shoes and set them off to the side. Levi moves to kneel in front of you, pulling the heels out of the box. You watch as he slips the heel on your foot, making sure they’re secure.

“Stand up.” Levi steps back, watching your legs. The heels accentuate the muscles in your calves while making your legs look good. “Are they comfortable.”

“Yes.” You smile to yourself as you walk around the small space. You’ve never worn heels like this, that cost as much as 3 months of rent.

Your eyes wander to Levi’s as he studies you like a textbook. His eyes are glued on you as you walk, almost as if he doesn’t know you can see him.

Levi comes back to earth, finally, and he grabs the box of shoes. “We’ll take both.”

It was finally time to go. Levi seemed uncomfortable with the crowds of people coming in, which is probably why he insisted on going early. He didn’t seem his usual self… he was more, nervous? Anxious?

The valet brought the car around and Levi opened the door for you, like usual.

You knew something was on Levi’s mind. He seemed more distracted.

“Everything okay?” You ask, watching his slate eyes turn to you.

“Yes. Just thinking about this upcoming week.”

That was probably a lie, but you didn’t want to pry. You nod as you accept his answer and look out the window during the rest of the car ride.