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#I never expected them to pay the deposit
nibbles-whispers · 5 months
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My parents when they have to come up with $53,000 yearly: 😍😍😍
My parents when they have to come up with $500 in four days: 😡🤬🤬
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sincerelybubbles · 4 months
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i've noticed you
pairing: spencer reid x profiler!reader
warnings: fluff, not proof read (as is the usual oops), slightly slightly suggestive
word count: 2.6k
it's a late night in the office. dim light casts shadows across the bull pen. you squint your tired eyes to focus them on the document in your hand. hours have passed since everyone else went home but you stayed behind. something about pushing into the early hours of the weekend to finish off a long week is better for your mental health than leaving the documents for monday. the totality of closing the folder, marking it complete, and filing it away allows you to push the details of your cases to the back of your mind. you can't forget them entirely, of course, and nightmares still haunt you, but this is the best system you've found to make yourself feel better, even if only marginally.
a call of your name, soft and familiar, startles you. you jump, chair pushing back a few inches. you look up to see spencer standing in the doorway, giving you a confused look. his bag is strapped across his chest, hands clutching it, eyebrows raised. he's dressed more casually than you're used to: a plain blue shirt, khaki pants, his usual dress shoes. his hair is messy and his eyes look sleepy behind the confusion, like he'd only just woken up.
"hey, reid," you say, catching a yawn in the middle of saying his name. "you scared me."
"i could say the same to you. what are you doing here at," he checks his watch, flicking his wrist to right it in a movement that has your chest tightening. "3:46 in the morning on a saturday?"
"i could say the same to you," you mimic him, sending him a wide smile. you lift up your documents when he sends you an unamused look, waving the folder. "just finishing up before the weekend."
"you have over two weeks to have those reports filed, though?"
"helps me sleep better to have them done, i guess. you never answered me, though -- why are you here?"
"ironically, to help myself sleep," spencer answers, crossing the room in swift, long strides to reach his desk behind yours. he deposits his bag and turns to you, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. "i get nightmares and sometimes the best thing to do is try to get some work done. helps my conscious, i guess. or, at least keeps me busy."
you nod and watch him make his way to the kitchen. "that makes sense."
"i'll be back," he calls to you over his shoulder.
you hear his return a few minutes later, eyes trained on your file again. you don't look up this time, now that you know who it is. you're too focused on finishing these last few documents and fully aware that it's sort of hard to stop looking at spencer once you start.
the gentle click of a mug hitting your desk grabs your attention, though, and you tear your eyes from the page to look up.
spencer is leaning across your desk, nudging a yellow mug toward you, smiling widely. your throat tightens, a quick flash of pleasant awareness of him, and you swallow it away.
"what's this?" you ask, reaching for the mug. he doesn't let go as you expected and your fingers brush against each other. he shrugs instead of answering, leaning back against the desk next to yours and taking a sip from his own mug.
"coffee."
you take a sip, surprised to find it made exactly how you like. you can't remember ever telling him what you like and your cheeks heat at the gesture. you're grateful that the only lamp on is yours, hiding the heat from him.
"how'd you know how i like it?" you ask, taking a sip.
"i pay attention," he says, eyes trained on yours.
"to people's coffee preferences?"
"to yours, sure."
before you can properly allow that to sink into your exhausted mind, spencer sets his mug on your desk before grabbing his own files. "mind if i join you?" he asks, dragging the nearest chair over. "at least until you go home for the night."
"yeah, sure, i could use the company," you say, clearing space for him.
||||
5:53 AM
you: [attached image]
you: i promise i'm on the way, just having the worst morning. once i get this tire fixed, i'll let you know
you sigh, throwing your phone in your bag and squatting down to examine your blown tire. you don't know what you hit but you do know it's the start to an already sour morning.
you slept with your window propped open, despite how many times you've seen that go poorly for victims, and it rained, drenching your curtains. you didn't get to pack a lunch after dealing with that and usually, you eat breakfast at the office, so now you're on the side of the wet road, blown tire, and late for the first time in years.
your phone buzzes twice and you stand to dig it out of your bag.
5:55 AM
morgan: bad morning, pretty girl?
hotchner: don't worry about it, stay safe.
you roll your eyes at morgan, chest feeling lighter at hotch's reply. you hadn't expected him to be angry, this wasn't something anyone could foresee, but his answer still lessens the anxiety in your chest.
you climb into your car, turning on the heat and holding your hands to the vent for a few moments. you sit there for a few minutes past when you've thawed, dreading reentering the wet morning to change the tire.
the sound of a car door opening and shutting grabs your attention and you look in the rearview to see spencer walking toward you, hitting the button to lock one of the company vans. he's holding a bag in his hands, walking briskly to avoid getting too wet in the morning mist.
you throw open the passenger door when he gets close enough and watch as he folds himself in the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket.
"hello," you say, amused, "fancy seeing you here. did hotch send you?"
"i volunteered, here." he hands you the bag. you look at him for a moment longer, watching as he fixes his hair. you return your focus to the bag when he looks over at you, embarrassed to be caught.
you find one of the kitchen muffins and a banana in the bag. you stare at it for a moment, fully aware that this is exactly what you eat most mornings at work.
"i know you usually eat at work and didn't know if you had anything here," spencer explains.
"you noticed that?"
"i noticed you," he says. your eyes snap up to meet his, heart fluttering in your chest. he doesn't look embarrassed, eyes meeting yours steadily.
you struggle to find words, heart beyond touched by the gesture. you end up muttering, "thank you, spencer."
"you're welcome." there's a moment's pause while you come to terms with the fact that this can no longer be considered one of your worst mornings. "also, there was betting about if you could change a tire."
"ah, so you're here because you didn't believe in me?"
"well," he says, cheeky, smiling over at you. "you are just sitting in your car, decidedly not changing your tire."
"i was working myself up to it!" you say in defense. it's insane to you how quickly he has shifted your mood in just a few minutes.
he shakes his head at you, smiling slightly, and pops his door open, "open the back," he says, stepping out.
you do as he says, opening the trunk and getting out after him.
"i really was going to do it, you don't have to," you say, following him around the back of the car and watching him shift the things around to find your spare tire.
"i got it. go sit in the car, it's cold." he rolls his sleeves up, sending you a look.
you watch his hands as he moves the fabric up, exposing his forearms. you swallow, mouth dry, as he moves to the other arm, wrists flexing and bringing his veins into focus.
"i'm not sitting in my car while you do all the work," you refute, voice wavering, tearing your eyes away from his hands. you feel like a silly schoolgirl, ogling at her crush. or, better yet, like a scandalized victorian man seeing a hint of ankle for the first time, entranced by the barest hint of innocent skin. still, under the heat of embarrassment, you can't stop yourself from shifting your weight from foot to foot watching him lift the tire from your trunk.
"why not?" he asks, carrying the donut under one arm and walking over to the flat tire. you watch him, entranced, as he crouches down to examine the flat.
"it feels wrong! really, spence," you say, walking over to him and leaning down to catch his forearm and get his attention. "you don't have to change it for me, i'm more than capable."
"i know," he says, turning to look up at you from under his lashes. he smiles, still just a hint at the corner of his lips, and nods toward the car. "still, go sit, it's cold."
"spence-" you start and he rolls his eyes, standing up so he can look down at you and crossing his arms.
he says your name lowly, leaning back against the car and raising an eyebrow. "get in the car, this will only take me a minute."
he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing himself off of the car and walking to the trunk to grab the tool kit. stunned and slightly turned on, you slowly walk back to the drivers side of the car.
"good, now eat, too," he calls.
you grab the bag of food when you sit down, letting your legs hang down outside of the car. he stands up straighter to see you over the hood of the car and grins at you, "thank you."
||||
hands sweating and heart racing, you press the button on the elevator and watch the door close. you clutch the little bag between two of your hands, rolling your head back to stretch it and stare at the ceiling.
you're a profiler, you know people, you know that your ever-growing crush on spencer is reciprocated. his face as he said "i noticed you" is the last thing you see before you sleep and you know you aren't misinterpreting the signs. still, anxiety pools when the elevator dings and you step off.
you roll out your shoulders and step into the bull pen with confidence you have to fake, putting a smile on your face and holding the little bag behind your back slightly.
"morning angel," penelope calls to you, swinging around the corner and linking her arm with yours. "did you have any fun hot dates this weekend? please say yes, i am in desperate need of someone to live vicariously through -- my love life is dry in all definitions of the word."
"sorry love," you say, patting her arm and sending her a sympathetic look. "still working on that plan i mentioned a few weeks ago."
"wait," she says, suddenly stopping and forcing you to as well. "really? because you were all gung-ho about maintaining a sense of workplace appropriate behavior and all of that other blah hr speak."
"well," you say with a shrug, smiling at the ground, "i don't know, can't a girl change her mind?"
"she most certainly can. in fact, i have right now!" you look up at her suddenly ultra cheerful voice and see spencer walking into the room, hands in his pockets and heading right for you with a smile as a greeting. "i have decided that i'm not walking you to your desk and we'll chat over lunch instead. bye!"
just as quickly as she arrived, penelope left, scampering away to her office with a grin stretching across her face. she's your best friend, the one person you tell everything, and also the source of your greatest annoyance, leaving you alone in the hallway.
"what was that about?" spencer asks, reaching you and stopping only half a step away.
"just garcia being garcia," you say, shrugging.
"well, goodmorning," spencer says, tucking his chin down to look at you better. "have a good weekend?"
"i did," you say, swallowing in a deep breath to steel your nerves. "i actually managed to go to that bookstore you told me about."
"oh really?" spencer asks, excitement animating his face. "did you talk to the store owner? she's super cool, i actually learned a lot from her about book binding last time i visited. she has a little workshop in the back."
"i did, actually. i had to get her help finding a specific book," you say, holding the bag out to him.
"oh, which one?"
"open it and see."
"it's for me?" spencer asks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. he takes the bag slowly, as if expecting you to rip it away. you nod encouragingly and he takes the cue to lift the paper out of the bag and then the book. "wait, no way. this is so cool! i've been searching for it for ages."
you watch as he opens the book and his eyes widen finding it signed. he slowly, reverently, flips the pages to look at the publication date and his eyes flick to meet yours.
"this is a first edition?"
"yeah."
"this is- how did you know?"
"i noticed you, too," you say, voice soft and hesitant. you take the half step forward so your toes are touching. surprisingly, your anxiety is nowhere to be found as you look up at him, smiling, chest warm and fingertips tingling. "i hope that's okay."
"beyond, actually," spencer answers, voice softer. the hand holding the bag and book falls, his other one lifting to your cheek, hesitant. he brushes his fingers across your cheekbone gently before moving his hand to cup the back of your neck and bringing you in for a hug. .
it's exactly how you expected hugging spencer to be, warm and all-consuming. he laughs, gentle, a vibration you can feel through his chest and into yours.
"what?" you ask, face buried in his chest.
"it's amazing how hard i'm fighting to not kiss you right now. i always thought i would be too nervous - i mean, obviously, i've kissed people before. not that that's what i should be talking about right now, but, i just mean, it's different with you. you make me happy in a way that makes me nervous, you know?"
"i know," you say, softly, cutting off his rambling with a hidden smile. he's still holding you in the empty hallway and you would love nothing more than to hear his rambling but you're also very aware that someone could walk in any moment.
you just hope that whatever this is leads to more of his thoughtless rambles - you've missed them, noticed how he's held himself back more, and you think nothing will make you happier than being the person he turns to with them.
"yeah. um, thank you. but now i'm not nervous, i'm just annoyed we're at work."
you laugh, pushing away from him, fixing his tie. "we have plenty of time, it's okay."
he doesn't say anything, his hand still on the back of your neck. instead, he slowly leans down to press his lips to your forehead. it's gentle, as if he's afraid the wrong move will break you or send you running, and you melt from it.
"plenty."
part two of it's a date will come soon!! i hope!!!! please take this as a peace offering <3 i got the idea of spencer changing a tire on my head and could NOT LET IT GO !!!! like i'm ngl, i made myself blush w this so i hope u all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)
also also!! i usually like to keep my notes short but this is a reminder that my asks/inbox are always open!! and i read every reblog and comment and smile and giggle like a little kid when i see them. you all make my day every day and ily u all
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digital-domain · 17 days
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Easier
Feitan x Reader // word count 4.3k
If you drink with him tonight, you’ll still be trapped. Things will not get better, and they’ll likely get worse. You know that. But it’s so hard to resist a chance to feel good.
Tags/warnings: dark content, kidnapped reader, noncon (both parties are intoxicated, it’s implied that reader is more so), drinking, coping through drinking, unsexy smut, drunk sex, outdoor sex, reference to previous threats of violence, attempted knifeplay
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Feitan has a habit of bringing you things that you do not want. He does not hand them to you - instead, he deposits them on your bed or your floor and then looks at you expectantly, in much the same way that a cat might deposit a dead mouse on your doorstep. It happens often, so when you hear the rattle and click of the lock on your door, you are not surprised to see him enter with something in his hand.
“Here.” He doesn’t make eye-contact - not until he yanks the door shut behind him, forcing it to scrape against the warped wooden frame, and pulls the chain that dangles from the bare, yellowed bulb in the center of the ceiling. Then, he brandishes his offering, raising it up with an awkward jerk of his wrist. “For you.” A bottle of clear liquor, with his knuckles white around its neck, and a single glass tucked under his arm. It’s a regular one, and not a shot glass (not surprising - you’re shocked that he even owns any cups that aren’t made out of plastic), and the bottle is cheap, but neither of those little details are really the problem.
You shift your weight backwards slightly, bracing your hands against your bare mattress. “I don’t want it.”
Feitan crosses the room, somehow managing to avoid a single creak in the rotting floorboards, and sits on the ground directly beside your bed. He looks at the place on the floor beside him, and then stares at you without blinking until you give in, sliding cautiously from your bed and pulling your knees up to your chest as you sit.
You eye the dubious gift with apprehension.
“I didn’t put anything in it.”
“I wasn’t worried about that,” you say, before you can really think about your answer.
He tilts his head. “Really?”
“…not just that.”
“Smart.” He nods curtly, as if he expected this response, although his gaze drops for a moment and his hand twitches anxiously at his side. “I show you.” He pours out about a shot. The cowl over his face comes down with a sharp tug, and he wrinkles his nose at the contents of the glass before downing it with a straight face.
You’ve never seen him drink before, or smelled it on his breath, so you are almost inclined to be impressed.
“What else are you worried about?”
His breath usually just smells like he doesn’t own a toothbrush. You pointed this out once, and ended up with a pair of pliers in your mouth. He didn’t actually remove any of your teeth, and the corners of his eyes were creased as his face hovered over yours, like the whole thing was good fun, you teasing him and him paying it back in kind. His breath was fresh the next time you saw him, washed out with a sickly-sweet-something that repulsed you even more than the rot it replaced.
“What else?” he prompts.
“I don’t like your presents.”
He pauses for a moment, as if he finds what you’re saying baffling. “You like this one.”
“No, I don’t.” There are plenty of reasons not to like it. For one, the fact that it is different from all the others. He usually gives you harmless things. Some of them have been truly undesirable, like the half-wilted flower with strangely shaped leaves and an even stranger smell, or the scuffed silver ring for which the previous owner, he assured you, had no further use. Others, you tried to reject only because they came from him, and took advantage of in the moments when you were too tired to care about your pride. Soap of the exact same kind that you used to stock in your home. A soft pair of socks that very nearly matched and were very nearly clean. They were all unsettling in their own way, of course. But this one is different.
Why is it different? You do not like the answer, but it is creeping up on you, getting stronger by the second. If you drink, you will stop thinking, if only for a few hours. You will stop caring about his breath, and picturing his face hovering over you, and wondering when it will stop merely hovering and do the things he wants it to do.
Why is it different? Simple. Because you want it, for once.
He tilts his head. Waiting.
“I don’t like it,” you repeat, all too aware of the way he’s sizing you up, wondering what little movement or twitch of your facial muscles might give you away. “I want it gone.” You are still picturing exactly what those eyes look like when they’re so close that they make yours go blurry and crossed. He didn’t kiss you then - he still hasn’t. But that’s only another thing to fear. It will happen, and everything else along with it. It’s only a matter of time. “Go away.”
“No.” He pushes the glass towards you, and the bottle along with it. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t leave.
You should pour it down the sink, or throw it out the window. He’d probably let you. He never forces you to accept anything he gives you, although the look of genuine disappointment in his eyes when you refuse is so unsettling that you usually play along. “Why…” You drop your gaze along with the rest of the sentence. It’s obvious, isn’t it?
He shrugs. “Why not?”
You ask yourself the same thing, and come up with a multitude of reasons, and an answer to them all. You are already here, in this room, in this house, with no way out, and nothing to think about except the things he will do, and when. There is no good choice here. And there is an easier one. You bite your tongue, and then your lip, but it does nothing to stop you. “Okay.”
You hold the bottle parallel to the ground, and count one-two-three like someone once told you to do when measuring out a shot, but it’s full and it comes out fast and maybe just maybe you let your handle tilt a little too far in the wrong direction. It doesn’t go down easy, either. You’ve got nothing to follow it with, or to add to cut through the bitter taste. It wouldn’t be hard to stand up and get water, but you don’t feel like moving at the moment. The usual warm, pleasant sensation that you experience when you down the first drink of the night is absent, drowned out by the face staring back at you.
He smiles, and drops his gaze, and his cheeks are flushed, and you don’t know if it’s just from the liquor -
This was a mistake, of course. Of course. You knew that going in. But it’s too late to correct now, and there’s only one way left to go: down, and down, and down. You splash another helping into the glass - one-two-three-four-five - and close your eyes as you choke your way through it.
As soon as you’re done, before you can set the glass down, he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing cautiously against the back of your hand before easily prying it loose. “I go now.”
You think, for a moment, that he means he’s going to leave, and take his gift along with him (a twinge of disappointment, or maybe something closer to panic, comes along with this, and you hate yourself for it). Instead, he matches the portions you’ve drank with his own. From his face, you would think that it was only water in his cup, although you think you see that faint look of disgust appear once again in the moment before he drinks. When he’s done, he fidgets with the bottle cap, flipping it effortlessly between his fingers. It’s a repetitive motion, one that might be soothing to watch if it wasn’t for the dark stains beneath his nails. He is focused, almost meditative, not even glancing up at you as he toys with the small plastic round, but there is a tension in his shoulders and the way he sits.
You feel it too. It will be a relief, you think, when the waiting is over.
He offers the bottle cap to you. Silently, another little gift in the same night, perfectly centered in his palm. A part of you wants it. But your hands are not elegant - not now, not ever - and you have accepted too much from him already.
Too much, and not enough. You watch him for several more minutes, and will the bottle to remain on the floor, instead of making its way into your hand.
Outside, a slight wind has picked up, the noise dulled by the metal slats fastened across your window. You turn away from Feitan, towards the sound, and slump forward, holding your face in your hands. It’s peaceful, for what feels like a long time. Peaceful enough that you can concentrate on the presence of your body, and the pace of your thoughts, and imagine the alcohol slowly creeping up through your veins and covering up all the things you don’t want to have in your head.
Feitan comes to crouch in the periphery of your vision. You did not hear him move, but that is nothing new. You would not have heard him, you’re sure, even if you had had nothing at all to drink. But now that he is here, you are imagining how you will feel once the warmth has peaked and faded away, and you are still alone with him, and nothing has changed at all. He passes you the bottle, and you drink straight from its mouth, barely registering the taste, too much, too fast. He snatches it back, and matches your swig -
You have an amusing thought that you know he wouldn’t like. It expresses itself on your face before you can snatch it back.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” You arrange your features carefully, and shut your mouth. “It’s nothing.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t look at you with suspicion, like he normally would. He just shrugs, and follows your gaze to the slit of starlight that pokes out from an unobstructed section of the window. “No moon tonight.”
“I wouldn’t know.” It comes out bitter, and you are only slightly surprised to realize that you no longer care how you sound.
“You know now.” He does something you’ve never seen him do before: takes off the cowl entirely and discards it on the floor. “If I take you outside, will you be happy?”
“No.” Your tongue is starting to feel heavy in your mouth, fuzzy around the edges. “I’ll still hate you.”
“Okay.” He looks away from you, reaches again for the bottle, then seems to think better of it. “We still go.”
“Now?” You don’t think you want to stand up, but you do it anyways, before he can even tell you what to do. You’re proud to note that the movement comes easily to you; if you were asked to walk in a straight line, you think that you could. Maybe you could run, too. Maybe faster than him, in your current states.
“Now.” He stands up beside you, surefooted, and grabs your hand. His fingers do not interlock with yours - instead, he wraps them around the back of your palm, and presses his thumb hard against the other side of it. His grip is stronger than it has any right to be, but it does not hurt.
“Why?”
“Why not?” He actually grins, and it’s so jarring that it brings you back down to earth for a moment. “You won’t run away.”
“You don’t know that.” You can see his teeth. By some miracle, they are white enough, and straight enough, but you are still disgusted by them. “I’ll probably try.”
“Okay.” He tugs you towards the door by your hand. “You try.”
You hesitate for a moment, and he pauses, allowing you to pick up the bottle from the floor. It is still open, but the smell of it has become far less offensive, and you grip it as tightly as he does to your hand. Then, you are out - out of the room, first, then past the staircase that he has not yet forced you to descend, where he comes up at the end of the day or night - past that, and then you are past the front door, and the wind that you listened to for so many minutes is howling in your ear. It occurs to you that you do not even know what the house looks like from the outside, but you do not bother turning around.
“This way.” Trees surround the house on every side, and he takes you into them, guiding you through the most spacious paths between the trunks. “I show you something.”
The last time he showed you something, it was not nice - you think about this, and clutch the bottle tighter to your chest, and try not to picture the bones beneath the skin of your hand, small and coated in blood and easy to break. He has similar bones in his possession, not all of them in one piece, belonging to bodies that were once people, with names he told you he had forgotten.
What are you doing? You tip the mouth of the bottle up to your lips, but he jerks you sharply in a new direction, and you only manage to catch a bit of what sloshes out. You vaguely register, moments later, that there is a clearing in front of you, and that it might be pretty in the daytime, and that there are weed-flowers at your feet, the color of which you cannot make out. More lucidly, you observe that the collar of your shirt is wet, and that Feitan’s grip on your hand is tight enough to hurt after all.
“We sit down now.” He sits, and takes you down with him, and more of the contents of the bottle slips away as you struggle to keep it in your grasp. The grass is wet, too. His face is very close to yours. His head tilts to a bizarre angle, his face seeming to blur in front of you, the curve of his smile higher on one side than the other. He laughs - it’s a raspy, quiet sound that is completely unfamiliar to you. Unfamiliar to him, too, you think. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” you say, although you do not know if it is true (it probably is - you don’t think he would laugh otherwise). The amusing thought comes back, and this time, you do not filter it away from your mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank as much as I did. We’re not the same size.”
“We’re not.” He blinks unnaturally slowly - or maybe he’s consciously closing his eyes, or maybe it’s just that everything seems a little slower, even the wind yanking his hair away from his face. “Closer sitting down.”
You snort. “Barely.”
“Then lie down.”
You realize that you have been wanting to laugh for a long time, and you do it wildly and bitterly, a grinning scream that you cut short with another swig of the thing which is starting to taste more like water than anything else. “I’m not stupid.”
“No.” He sways forward and puts his hand over yours, and you - after a moment, a stupid, stupid moment - snatch it away.
“‘m not stupid, and I hate you.” Your head feels light and heavy at the same time, scared and free, and neither feeling really matters, and you don’t want to think about it.
“I know.” He looks disappointed, you think, although he might just be tired. How late is it? Late enough that before he arrived - how long ago? - you were scared of falling asleep - you have bad dreams, every night - but you feel okay now -
“Why’d you bring me here?” Your words are not coming out the way you want them to. You don’t mean this clearing - you mean here, with him, forever, or however long he wants you -
“I wanted to.” He gets what you mean, you think. “Might change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.” He slips his hand into his pocket, and fidgets with something inside, and you do not think to wonder what it is.
“You should let me go.”
“No.”
“I should run away.” You laugh, because the idea of running right now is ridiculous, just like every other idea that passes through your head. All of this is awful, and stupid. Better to be stupid. “That way.” You raise your hand, and point to a place where the trees are less dense, where you think you could run without falling, if you really tried. “I’ll live in the woods. Hunt squirrels.” Oh, how nice it would be right now to talk to someone who wasn’t him. But it is good not to be alone. You think you would cry if you were alone. “You’d never find me.”
He coughs out another rusty laugh (but it’s mean this time, or it feels mean, anyways) and sticks his hand into his pocket. “Then go.” His eyes narrow, and he does not look disappointed anymore, but you’re not really thinking about how he feels to begin with. “I give you ten seconds.”
“Really?” You swing backwards where you sit, then straighten, then shake your head. Make it clear. Do you bring the bottle with you? It will slow you down, but you want it. If you do not have it (oh, god) you will have to wake up and think about all of this, and you don’t want that. It scares you. You can’t.
“Ten.”
You blink. “Now?”
He nods. “Nine.”
“Fuck.” You rise clumsily to your feet, stumble on your first step, and take off straight ahead, with what’s left of your liquor held tight to your chest. The trees are dense, your footing unstable, and suddenly you are going sideways when you mean to go straight - a branch scratches your face, and you grab it, as if to tear it straight off the tree. What number is he on? He was not talking loudly, and you cannot hear it except in your own head, where you are trying to keep track. Three, two?
You hear the crackle of dead leaves somewhere close. Closer. Then his hand is on yours, and you have fallen, and you have no idea which one of these things happened first, and your hands are empty, and the ground is wet on your back. You open your mouth. At the same moment, you feel something hard and sharp against your neck, but you don’t register that in time to stop yourself from speaking - or attempting to. You don’t know what you’re trying to say.
“You stop talking now.” The blade that appeared from nowhere (his pocket?) presses down, just shy of breaking the skin, and does not move for what feels like a very long time. But time is strange at the moment. You are not as scared as you are confused. You do not talk, and he takes it away, and it is such a relief that you do not think much about the other things. He is warm on top of you (he is lying on top of you) but not very heavy (but blurry) and his face is close and you can feel his breath on your face and it does not smell bad. Just like yours. The rest of that smell is pouring out on the ground (you heard the bottle crack when you dropped it, you think).
He kisses you before you can laugh about it, or cry about it, and his tongue is strange and slow and thick. Your hands come up, and push, but they fall down before long, and he kisses your neck. Bites. Doesn’t hurt very much at all. Knife catches at the neckline of your shirt, cuts -
Not far. His hand is not steady. Slips. Prick. You don’t think you’re bleeding but you wouldn’t know if you were. Nothing hurts. You think you hear him curse. Heavy metal leaves you and thuds in the pretty wet grass. There’s a strange expression on his face which makes you think that he might be close to laughing or crying too, and you don’t like it. Your shirt is still wet and noticing it again is a relief - you can think about that, and nothing else.
“You want to?” He tugs at the waist of your pants and pulls them down before you really answer. Your legs are apart now, and you do not want it to be him between them, but it feels good to be touched there - there - and you cannot make yourself hate it. You can’t hate anything. You can’t feel much besides him. There is a warm haze, and beneath that, there is shame and fear and loathing that you do not have to feel right now, that would make everything worse if you did feel it.
You do feel it, for a second too long, and your legs slide closer together, but not close enough to make it stop.
“You don’t want to?” His two fingers slide inside you (too easy, easier than it should be) and curl up like they’re trying to push an answer out of you, and your mouth opens and something comes out, but not words. His eyes narrow and he smiles and the darkness or something else makes it all look different than it did before. “I want to.”
Your hips move in the wrong direction, into him, and the thing you should and want to say does not come out, because he makes you feel good when you try. If he was not doing that he would be making you feel scared instead. This is better. This is the best it could ever be.
The smile drops, all at once. “Answer.”
You close your eyes so you don’t have to see it. Now, it doesn’t have to be him. Could be anyone. Could be no one at all. “Feels good,” you mumble.
“Good.”
The hand slips out of you and lands on the side of your face, slick, and you are kissed and you do not kiss back. “Good.” He says it into your mouth between kisses. His other hand is somewhere else. Down. “Good.” You try not to hear it. The wind whips up around you and you listen to that, and feel it hard against your cheek, and him hard against your stomach. Wind scrapes over your skin. He scrapes over your skin. Finds your entrance and holds himself there for too long. “You want to.” Not a question. Maybe he believes it and maybe you do too.
“Mm.” You’ll fall asleep as soon as it is over. It will be easy. Like taking a drink.
His breath shudders as he presses inside you. His whole body goes along with it, tightens against your skin, face shoved into your neck. Your eyes snap open and you fight their lids back down. When you let yourself think about it, the good feeling starts to go away. But it doesn’t hurt. It would’ve hurt, if it happened a different night, when you had to think…
He looks up and you somehow raise your head just enough to see his eyes. Wide. “Talk.”
“Feels good,” you mumble, and it must be enough, because his nails scrape your scalp and snag firmly into your hair and he is going and going but you can barely feel anything at all anymore. You lied, you guess.
It ends quickly. He says something that you can’t hear and then he is out of you and there is wet on your thigh that has nothing to do with the grass. And still, he is not done with you. His weight stays. His arms hook under your shoulders and hold tight.
One final time, you force your mouth and eyes open, because you cannot sleep like this. He’s staring at you, waiting, and you barely recognize his face at all. If you did, you would hate it.
You manage to say it. Exactly what you want to say. “Get off.”
His gaze drops to the grass. It’s quiet, for a long time.
You close your eyes. “Get off.”
“Okay.” His hand flutters against your cheek, and you feel his hot breath over your face, close enough to kiss you one final time.
He doesn’t. His weight lifts, and you can breathe.
And you can sleep.
***
There is a moment when you wake up before you feel any pain. Your head does not hurt, your stomach does not churn, your eyes do not flinch at the sunlight that pokes them through the trees.
But you would take all of those little kinds of suffering over the feeling that overrides them all. It strangles your chest and your throat and keeps you from rising or moving even an inch to look around. You hear his breathing. You hear his body shift in the grass, and know that he knows you are awake.
And yet, he doesn’t say a thing. Not yet. When he does, all the things you half-remember will flood your brain, and you will have no defense, except to hope that he has another bottle stashed away somewhere, and that he will be kind enough to give it to you.
Not yet. You feel the dampness of the shirt on your back, and taste the foulness of your own breath and the rot rising up from your throat, and smell the bitter stench of the night before. And you pretend, for as long as you can, that not yet means never again.
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lisired · 6 months
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pretty little weapon
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pairing: undercover cop!mark x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, organized crime, cop x criminal, graphic depictions of blood and violence, mentions of death, smut, choking, oral (f receiving), biting, a pinch of angst, mentions of pregnancy-related death, unprotected sex (dont b silly, wrap ur willy!), vague mentions of sexual assault
summary: A lifetime worth of adversity had brought you to Bloodlust. You joined them to escape your history, but with Mark Lee - an undercover narcotics agent with a secret to keep - comes the threat of being forced to confront your past. Old wounds are opened, but scars heal.
word count: 25.7k (…i have nothing to say for myself.)
a/n: inspired by PLW by leon thomas, bad news by kehlani, and perfect crime by tinashe! bon appetite! I did this on a whim. read this with the 2 baddies styling concept in mind. as always, feedback is appreciated!
You were going to be absolutely livid if Yuta didn’t up your pay.
After a long night of work, you anticipated crawling into your sheets. Then waking up to a large sum of money deposited into your account in the morning as courtesy of your hard work.
That never happened.
“This was not in the job description,” you complained to your boss. Though there was technically never a clock for you to be on, you had already firmly clocked out. And when he invited you on this escapade, you were inclined to deny. But he was nothing if not unrelenting.
Yuta smirked and brushed you off. “You do stone cold murder for a living, baby. This is what you signed yourself up for the moment you killed somebody.”
God, you hated when he was right. Sometimes all you ever wanted to do was argue with whatever he said. Moments like this when he began cutting down on your downtime.
Soaring through flocks of people, you kept very close to Yuta’s side, his arm firm around you. People knew not to mess with him, and thus anyone considered his associate. That was one of the beauties of working for Bloodlust, you supposed. As long as you were loyal and faithful to them, you were guaranteed total protection and discretion against anyone.
The tale of how you secured a job of this nature in the first place was relatively simple. You were scouting the streets as usual, given it was the only home you’d known. Violence was absolutely nothing new to you as you had been in your fair share of street gangs prior to Bloodlust. But one thing led to another and you had blood on your hands in an act of self defense. Specifically the blood of your own fellow gangster.
Just your luck, Yuta witnessed the scene. He was a stranger at the time, some shady man offering help that looked like nothing short of trouble. You found yourself surprised that you even took his deal, but you weren’t left with any alternatives. Going back to the gang was not an option; there was no telling how the leader would respond to the blood of your superior being on your very hands. There was no mercy there.
Yuta vowed to cover for you, but you would perpetually owe him in return. You were expecting something more lewd when he informed you that you would be working for him, though you did nothing of the sort. Yuta took you under his wing and handed you a job as a contract killer.
And the rest was history.
You hurdled closer to his chest, pursuing warmth. Given the hour and the season, the outdoors were becoming frostier. You exhaled and saw your breath condensing in the air.
“Stay put,” Yuta said. As if you would run off anywhere. You were tempted, though you weren’t stupid. And though you would never admit it to his face, you loved the street races.
After you nodded, Yuta parted without having to worm his way through the crowd. They respected him, though most of it was out of pure fear. They made way for him whenever they saw him approaching.
You eyed the roads while you waited. The street races were one of your favorite aspects of the gang. They were orchestrated by Yuta and were a great source of profit overall. But watching them was the part you were fond of.
One of the cars before you caught your eye - a neon green Porsche. You had barely laid a finger on the exterior before you were forcibly knocked backwards, your face slung to the other side.
You held your cheek in your palm, adrenaline pumping through your veins. There was no immediate pain. You didn’t even feel like you were in your body. You could only stumble as you grasped to process what happened.
A visibly upset man - one of the racers - was waving his fist at you, screaming this profanity and that, but from the looks of it you hadn’t left as much as a scratch on his car. And if he thought he was going to intimidate you, he had another thing coming. Brutal adrenaline came over you and you socked him square in the jaw. Harder.
The racer was knocked to the ground by the force. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growled. You merely laughed. It was comical and you almost took pity on him. This guy clearly had no idea what forces were on your side. Not until he noticed Yuta and Johnny beginning to rush in his direction and he bolted.
The gang had very simple rules and even simpler consequences. If you disobeyed, you died. They were so simple that if you violated them, they read it as an act of defiance. The most obvious rule was to respect the high-ranks and their associates. The second was to comply, or your punishment would be fatal.
Another man came to your side and lowered you to the ground for inspection. This one you didn’t recognize at all. “Yo, are you okay?”
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you said, moving your fingers from your cheek to your lips. When you glanced down at them, you saw blood.
The stranger handed you a napkin. “Here.”
You took it and wiped your mouth, and thus the blood at the corner of your lips. That was one hell of a punch. Rather than feeling pain, you were in a state of immobilizing shock.
“Thanks, uh…,” you squinted your eyes, running his face through the facial recognition system installed in your memory. But you came short. Which was surprising, because you always remembered the faces of the regulars.
“Mark,” the stranger finished. Then he flashed you a smile. “It’s nothing. You should get that checked out, though. Make sure nothing’s broken or fractured.”
You nodded. As a result of uttering any speech, you noticed that your jaw slightly ached when you spoke. For fuck’s sake. None of this would have happened if you were in your bed.
Then Mark disappeared. And you had no time to think before you heard a piercing noise.
Gunshots rang in the distance and you weren’t at all surprised to see Yuta and Johnny return with sinister looks on their faces. Yuta helped you to your feet and asked, “You good, Scar?”
Scar was the alias you’d been granted after Yuta noticed the scar on your stomach. Rather than finding it odd, he was astonished by it. Which was so utterly Yuta of him. The alias served no other purpose than maintaining your confidentiality, but Yuta always thought it had a nice ring to it.
“Not the first time I’ve been punched. I think I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. The gods had blessed you with an unholy pain tolerance, which all your tattoos were a testament to. You remembered the matching one you got with Yuta and subconsciously smiled.
Friends like Yuta were, needless to say, rare.
All of the evil melted from Yuta’s face and he chuckled. “You’re a tough woman.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” Yuta curled his arm around you again. You were certain he was going to cuff one of your hands to his arm and never let you out of his sight again. “I was surprised that you didn’t finish that guy then and there. You took a pretty mean punch, babe. Must’ve been too shocked.”
That you were. But he was taking a nice load of bullets to the head before you even got the chance.
After the races were over and the roads were cleared out, you followed Yuta to his car. You suddenly had a thought once you hit the road.
“Yuta, do you know someone named Mark?”
Yuta furrowed his brows. “Nah. Why?”
Your heart sank. “Fuck.”
He glanced at you for a split second before returning his eyes to the road, but asked, “What’s wrong?”
“There was this guy at the race. He helped me and gave me a napkin to wipe the blood off of my face, but I didn’t recognize him. He told me his name was Mark.”
Yuta was alarmed. Just as you expected. It was one thing if you didn’t recognize a person at one of the gang’s events, but not Yuta. He had to ensure the attendee’s identities were closely monitored for everyone’s sake.
“Fucking hell?” Yuta handed you his phone and said, “Call Jaemin for me and tell him to look into the records. Maybe it slipped my mind. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay?”
You nodded your head and did as told, pressing his phone to your ear. Jaemin told you that he was AFK but would run a search as soon as he got back to the headquarters. Yuta dropped you off promptly and assured you that he’d call you with an update first thing in the morning.
Which only left you to wait.
In the morning, Yuta called you into his office, and you were immensely surprised to see not only him but Ten and Taeyong waiting for you in the room. Technically, you didn’t work for Bloodlust as a whole. There was a team of hitmen that worked specifically under one high-rank, though you were Yuta’s subordinate. Thus, encounters with other high-ranks were rare. Especially the leader.
Taeyong was the leader and the one at the helm of the entire gang. He inherited the title by succession to the metaphorical throne through descent. Yuta was his right-hand man, though given Taeyong rarely stepped out of the shadows unless absolutely necessary, Yuta being perceived as the leader was a popular misconception to outsiders and law enforcement. Which was completely deliberate. The less law enforcement knew, the better. It also made the task of differentiating interlopers from legitimates much lighter.
Ten was the gang’s personal spy. Their eyes to the other world. Just like any other high-rank, he directly supervised an entire branch of people pertaining to his title. Essentially, he was the leader of a team of criminal agents.
None of that explained why they were here, though.
As it was in your best interest, you greeted the three of them very politely. Though Yuta had a threatening position, you were close enough to be informal. Those freedoms didn’t apply to Ten and the leader. They might have been as good as strangers, but considering their influence in the underworld, they could have ended your life and career in an instant if they so pleased.
Glancing at Yuta, you said, “You called me, Boss?”
Yuta resisted a smirk at your attempts to be formal. You never called him ‘Boss’. “I did. I had Jaemin follow up on the Mark guy. We found something recent about him in our records.”
Ten interjected, “But I had a buy-off of mine’s confirm his real identity. He’s a Lee Minhyung. An undercover narcotics agent once tasked with tracking down a drug empire, and now that he shut them down we believe he’s moved on to attempting to infiltrate our ranks.”
Your blood ran cold. Frozen over in your veins. Forever grateful were you that you were excellent at maintaining your composure. Otherwise you would have panicked.
Taeyong stood at the far end of the pair. You had heard numerous things about him, but you were left gasping for air every time you saw him in person. If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under. Taeyong continued, “I’m sure you can guess why this is an urgent problem for us. It is my direct responsibility to protect the identities of those that put their faith in this gang and ensure their confidentiality. Now that we have a cop meddling in our affairs, that complicates things.”
That was to put it simply. The police infiltrating their territory was a direct threat imposed to the future of the empire. The moment the diplomacy was dismantled, so was the entire gang. Bloodlust in itself was intended to be an enigma. The purpose of hiring hitmen and establishing them by individual aliases was to deliberately make it difficult to link crimes to the gang. In return, your genuine identities were concealed. There was too much at stake to remain idle.
You supposed it made sense that Mark was kind to you. That made it easier to gain people’s trust. Though in the underworld, it made you look suspicious. Which led you to another question; if he was benevolent to you, did that mean you were specifically targeted?
You leaned forward in your chair and asked, “What does he know about the gang?”
“That’s where we hit a dead end,” said Ten, frustrated thoroughly. Whatever information they were relaying to you was everything they knew themselves. “Since he engaged with you, we considered that he might have a lead on you. If that’s true, most likely he’ll interact with you again given the opportunity.”
That didn’t alarm you. For most of your life, you’d lived on the edge, and that was especially true when you were a member of those prior street gangs. If your old friends sold you out, you wouldn’t be surprised. Yuta informed you early on that Bloodlust could keep your future under lock and key, though not your past.
But you were very suspicious. They wanted something out of you, that much was clear. Something significant. There was no other reason why the leader himself was before you. Though what?
“With all due respect, I don’t understand my involvement in this.”
Taeyong was straightforward. “We want you to play along.”
You nearly gawked. “Excuse me?”
He wasn’t the least bit bothered by you and continued, “The best way to fight fire is with fire. If Lee Minhyung wants to use you as his means of conveying intel, then let him, but lead him astray while doing so.”
In short, they wanted you to give Mark false information. Which steered far from your line of work. Why they chose you for the job in spite of having people actually equipped for the task was a mystery. Yuta was not kidding when he said that you signed yourself up for additional labor the moment you killed somebody. 
Frowning, you tried to stave them off. “You’re just gonna send a girl with no prior experience into the wild?”
“Must I remind you that we have full access and authority to all of your history stored in our records?” Ten sneered in amusement. “Think of it as a resume. It’s been a few years, but yours was very memorable. This wouldn’t be your first mole job.”
That was true. Anyone recruited to work for the gang was required to give a complete rundown of their history. Even recruits like you that didn’t respond to them directly. They made it very clear that lying would have put you in an early grave; Bloodlust had eyes everywhere.
“And you wouldn’t be uncompensated. I’ll triple your pay,” Yuta added.
That had your undivided attention. “I’m listening.”
Yuta fought a snicker. He expected nothing less. “We know that this isn’t what you usually do, but the job is very simple. It’s expected that he’ll try to extract information from you, so give him the wrong info. At the same time, try to figure out what he knows and what he wants. There’s a motive behind him targeting you and until we can confirm otherwise, we have to assume you’re his prey and he has valuable intel in his possession.”
“Why not just kill him upfront?”
“He might be valuable,” came Ten’s reply. “Whatever he knows, it’s safe to assume that he isn’t the only one.”
“We will be closely monitoring the entire empire for any turncoats, but he’s not alone. He has a partner,” warned Taeyong with a hefty stare. “So you have to be cautious about what you say to him.”
Ten began to get impatient and said, “So, do we have a deal?”
Tapping the arms of the office chair, you pretended to mull the proposition over although you had already made your decision. If their motive in collectively ganging up against you was to make you feel pressured into agreeing, you were almost inclined to decline the offer out of pure spite. But the genuine interest you had in the assignment discouraged you. There was too much at stake to play games.
There’s no good reason to decline, you decided halfway through the offer. Exposing yourself to law enforcement might’ve seemed too risky, but law enforcement potentially exposing you was even riskier. And you were no stranger to games of deception. Devising devious stratagems was one of the first skills you acquired.
You feigned indifference and replied, “Fine. I’ll play make-believe with the boy with a death wish.”
Yuta failed to resist his snicker this time, but it was true. Bloodlust gained its name for a special reason. For over a decade they had climbed their way to the top and were successful because they had no mercy for those that crossed them. You had faith that this was going to end with Mark having a bullet put through his brain.
After all, he wouldn’t be the first. Just another casualty.
Ten smiled, satisfied. His smile was alluring though likely deceptive, although you expected nothing less from the head of Bloodlust’s criminal agents himself. You had a feeling he was the one that suggested cornering you. “Good. You’re probably already aware that I administrate the spy squad. You won’t be working for me per se, but Jaemin and I will serve as your resources.”
Jaemin was another high-rank, the hacker and leader of their general technology team. If you ever thought you had hid a file or record from him; think again. In all your years of working for Yuta, you had never even caught a glimpse of the man’s face in person. He could only be spotted somewhere with a signal yet caved away.
You left that room with a mission. Jaemin had ID’d Mark’s partner and sent you a full report on them. Lee Minhyung, twenty-three, one of the youngest in his division and yet one of the most accomplished. He had spent merely three months undercover to overthrow a drug empire, and now he was scouting the big shots. Lee Jeno, twenty-two, and fresh out of the training program. There wasn’t much on him, obviously, but according to his evaluations, he had ambitions and was following in Mark’s footsteps.
Frankly, you were impressed. The reason neither of them had been detected until now was because they signed up the rightful way. No one suspected anything was amiss because their department created fake ID’s and hid their authentic ones. Nothing that Jaemin couldn’t find, though.
Needless to say, you had your work cut out for you.
The next time you saw Mark Lee was at another street race event. According to Jaemin, Mark and his partner were fresh recruits and had only been present for a few days at best, though he had quickly decided that the races were his favorite hunting grounds.
For a cop, Mark was remarkably easy to spot in a crowd, but he was playing the criminal role well enough. He had red hair that burned brightly and dressed the flashy part. You had yet to see him without a Cuban link.
You approached him and greeted, “‘Sup, Markie.”
Mark raised a brow. “Markie?”
“Do you not like it?” you asked, smiling innocently. You inched in on him, but left a safe distance between you two. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable by invading his personal space. “How about Marco? Or Markus? Even better - Little Red Riding Hood.”
Mark snickered. “Markie is fine. Thank you, Tony Stark,” he quipped.
“MCU fan?”
“You bet.”
He genuinely piqued your interest at that. Maybe pretending to like him wouldn’t be so hard. You breathed, “I love you already.”
He laughed. Then concern washed over his face. “Hey, your face okay?”
“Yup,” you replied, giving him a thumbs up. “I got it checked out like you said. Nothing broken or fractured. It’s a little sore, but I’ll be good as new in a couple days.”
“You’re a tough cookie,” he complimented.
You chortled. “So I’ve heard.”
With a broad smile, Mark continued, “That was one hell of a punch you landed on that dude, though. Knocked the guy flat on the ground. Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”
Here came the invasiveness. You decided to be as vague as possible about your past - and current - gang affiliations. You shrugged. “The streets. Polished my skills in the fighting ring, though.”
“There’s a fighting ring?”
“Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you around these parts before. You’re a total newbie,” you laughed, shaking your head.
“It’s only my fourth day out here,” Mark told you. Which was the truth. You were very unsurprised to find he was taken under the drug trafficking operation, which was ran by Jisung. “Yo, I never caught your name.”
You gave Mark your name, although you had a feeling he already knew. Jaemin and Ten were actively working together to uncover everything the unit had on you and the gang.
“I can show you the ropes,” you offered. Given where he stood, you knew those words alone had him hooked on you. It was safe to assume the drug empire was his primary, but offering him the gang’s additional means of money-making on a silver platter would have any officer’s mouth watering. “Take you on a tour. The gang has plenty of places to kill time while simultaneously making hella cash off of them.”
Mark’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Smart business. I might just take you up on that.”
“Bloodlust is all about smart business,” you remarked. Then, you began to do some prying of your own. It wasn’t all that risky to give up some of their territory, but everything came with a price. “Say - who did Boss put you under?”
“The Jisung guy. Drugs.” Mark shrugged. “Nothing major. They don’t trust newbies directly with the hardcore shit, and for good reason. But he told me that it’ll pay well, and if I stick around long enough, I can work my way up.”
Of course, it paid very well. No matter how low-ranking the position. They were trafficking illegal drugs and substances. It was one of their most lucrative branches.
You also hadn’t failed to notice how Mark mentioned that if he stayed long enough, he could work his way higher. That was common knowledge, though you doubted he was unaware of how problematic leaving a gang was. He had the prior experience, and even on his last mission he didn’t vacate the syndicate until he successfully seized the ranks. In other words, he wasn’t withdrawing until he had shot the entire gang down by its very heart and core.
Which was the inner circle.
That was a pressing reminder to keep your guard up. Though Mark seemed likable, it was very intentional. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to persecute you to the highest extent of the law and you would maintain that same lack of mercy.
You played along, bobbing your head. “Met the boss yet?”
Mark shot you a wince. “Not formally. And I’ve heard around that the less I see of Lee Taeyong, the better. What’s up with that?”
“Taeyong likes to deliver his messages up close and personal,” you cautioned. “He only comes out if absolutely necessary. Getting a personal message from the big boss only happens if you’re going around wreaking havoc.”
“No warning?”
You smiled, but the sinister undertone in your voice was very evident, “If he sends anyone else but himself, that is a warning.”
You didn’t feel pressured to make your insinuations very subtle, because you were Mark’s only hope. The gangsters weren’t exactly inviting. They were very cynical, tight-lipped, and kept small circles because another one of the most important rules was confidentiality and they dreaded facing exposure.
For the most part, people who received direct messages from Taeyong didn’t make it out alive. For that reason, you did not underestimate Mark, but you were certain he had underestimated the gang. Even if you hadn’t discovered him yourself, they would have in approximately the same amount of time.
Mark showed no fear and kept the conversation light-hearted, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he took that as a challenge. “Then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”
Liar, you scoffed. He was very much going to wreak havoc. He already had.
“You better. I’d hate to see a face like yours gone so soon,” you flirted, to which Mark grinned and cocked an intrigued brow. He was handsome, you had to give him that. Then, you decided to change the topic. “You like cars, Markie?”
He pretended to frown. “Is it obvious?”
“As far as I know, you’ve spent at least half your nights at these races. There has to be a reason,” you said, then resorted back to flirting, “Unless, you just come to look at me all night.”
“You are quite the extravaganza,” Mark played along, matching your energy. Much to your amusement. “I’m more of a bike guy, but I like anything shiny and nice.”
“We’re gonna get along just fine,” you quipped. “Wanna race?”
“For real?”
“For real,” you repeated, smiling. “They start in a little bit. You strike me as the type of guy that likes all things thrill and exhilaration.”
Mark broke into a tiny snicker. “Lucky guess. You any good?”
You shrugged. “Dunno. Guess that’s for you to figure out,” you teased. Then, began to make your escape. Granted, you knew he wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.
Mark, tantalized, trailed behind you. Hopping in a speeding car with someone as good as a stranger seemed rash, but he had a feeling that you knew what you were doing. Absolutely none of this was foreign to you.
Boy with a death wish was an apt description for Mark.
Upon your last-minute entry, you took him to the garage to pick up your ride. To say the least, Mark nearly dropped dead. The sight of your bright red Bugatti Chiron positively made him gape. “Holy shit,” he exhaled.
You giggled. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”
“Like hellfire. Aren’t these like, hella expensive?”
You bobbed your head. “She’s hell to repair. But my baby deserves the best.”
Mark continued to marvel. “Dude, you gotta let me drive one day.”
You laughed, amused, but for a completely different reason. Like hell you would let a cop take your car for a spin. It was outrageous enough that you permitted him to take the passenger seat.
Eventually you both went to line up for the races. Mark was still completely astonished, glancing around your two-seater with total awe and wonder. If you knew that you didn’t have to kill him, you would have found it very cute.
Yuta came by and stuck his head through the window aperture. Which were each rolled down as a safety measure. “You’re racing?”
“Yup,” you sang, smiling wildly. It had been a minute. And you figured that you needed some thrill in your life (unbeknownst to you, Mark was exactly that). “Meet my partner. Mark, meet this guy.”
Yuta rolled his eyes, then droned, “You two have fun.”
“Oh, trust me. Fun is guaranteed with me,” you replied with a wink.
Yuta glanced at Mark and quipped, “Run while you still can.” Then, he ran off.
“You can’t run now,” you said, making eye contact with Mark through the rear-view mirror. “We have a race to win.”
Mark grinned mischievously.
The flagger came into vision, preparing to launch the first race of the evening. You and Mark fastened your seatbelts, then you braced your hand on the steering wheel.
“Ready?” you asked, glancing to your side.
Mark bobbed his head. He seemed relatively relaxed for a first-timer. Honestly, you were beginning to wonder what all he had done in the name of the law. “Born ready.”
You revved the engine, watching the flagger count down with bated breath. Everything felt light. Adrenaline made your blood pump faster, your heart threatening to leap out your chest. This was it. That feeling that made life worth living.
Three, you muttered under your breath. Two, one. You gripped the wheel tighter. Then every nerve in your body chanted, Go, go, go!
And you slammed on the gas, bolting the car forward like lightning.
You sped like the devil. You were going nearly two-hundred miles per hour in a matter of ten seconds. The car roared underneath your fingertips and you knew you were driving a beast, one that had risen from the dead.
“Goddamn,” Mark raised his voice, speaking over the vicious winds that tousled your heads of hair. He was smiling, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life.
You shouted, “Hang on!” And you both accelerated.
You laughed, so carefree. Nothing else mattered when you were on the road and you quickly lost grip of everything that wasn’t the steering wheel clenched firmly between your fist. The road was the only thing capable of holding your attention, and you even occasionally forgot that Mark was beside you until you heard his exhilarated laugh. Every single thought you had left as quickly as it came. Moments were exactly that - moments. No fears, no worries, no nightmares. Just making it across that sweet finish line.
The feeling surging through your veins was inexplicable, but you knew that you weren’t alone in it. Mark could feel it, too. The rush overpowered any sense of threat and adrenaline made you forget what it felt like to breathe. At that moment, it was like breathing on the moon. Almost as if you didn’t need any air.
You wedged past this car and that, until you had made a great distance in front of them all. They were left in the dust.
“You feel that, Markie?” you asked, chest heaving out of pure, unadulterated fever. You could see that typical untamed gleam in his eyes, but heightened.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. And then he began to crack into a fit of hysterical laughter himself. “Yeah. I can feel it.”
The corners of your lips were in an unfaltering curve. “Let’s win this damn thing.”
Mark was grinning from ear to ear. Never had he ever felt so alive.
The climax of the race was your very favorite. Time lost its meaning and speed became inexhaustible. Air became scarce, as if there was no more left on earth. The tension throttled you and swallowed you whole. And heat reduced you to sweat and fighting breaths.
All you had was momentum, but that was of little threat to you. And Mark.
The distance between the car and the finish line decreased more and more and more. There was practically no one around you, but that didn’t ease your resolve. Resting was not an option until victory was yours.
Mark chanted, “Come on, come on.”
He wanted it as badly as you. If not more. There was nothing for him to gain out of this except experience and yet he seemed immensely content with that.
From the moment you crossed the finish line, time became a blur. All you knew was that you had won and you could feel the achievement in your veins. You only noticed that you were panting when you stepped out of the car, and the crowd flocked towards your vehicle.
“So, what do you think?” you asked Mark, sitting on the hood of your car. “Am I any good, Markie?”
Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then replied through thick breath, “I think you just gave me the time of my life. Thank you.”
You chortled. Damn right. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Someone cleared their throat and you turned to make eye contact with Lee Jeno. He looked directly at you without hiding his scorn when he spoke, “Sorry to interrupt, but Markie has to go now.”
You didn’t break eye contact with the boy, either, retorting, “Tell your dad that you don’t wanna go, Mark.”
Mark stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but I have to,” he said and hopped off the hood of your car. “Thank you for tonight, though. I’m holding you to your word from earlier.”
“I’ve never broken a promise,” you said. Then, you waved. “See’ya.”
Mark hugged you briefly, then bid you goodnight and faded in the crowd with his more than obvious partner.
And you went to pay yours a visit.
Given the hour, Ten was not pleased when you barged into his office, but before he could run his mouth, you shushed him with your finger.
Ten mouthed, “Did you just shush me…”
You removed an object out of your pocket and rested the item flat on his desk. It was a tiny, black wiretapping device. Clearly, somebody thought he was slick, though even in your fit of ecstasy, you were not off-guard.
From the expression he sported, Ten was highly amused by the flagrant audacity of this boy. There seemed to be a telepathic communication between you two, but just to be safe, he mouthed, “Play along.”
Ten said your name and began, “You’re late. Did you hear the news?”
You almost rolled your eyes, but very audibly pulled in the opposing chair to give the impression that you were here for a long, scheduled conversation. Then, you blew out a sigh and replied, “Yeah. Yuta told me Taeyong is considering shifting the gang to China. Damn feds too close on our tail.”
“Don’t fret. It’ll be a walk in the park. China makes up our secondary income - the ascendancy we have there is enough to start fresh.”
The little tale made you smirk. Bloodlust hadn’t branched out in China very much yet.
“I know, but Korea is the only home I’ve known,” you groaned.
Ten was very good at playing along with your bullshit and told you, “That was how I felt when I came to Korea from the States. Listen, you’re gonna be homesick as a bitch. But you won’t be alone and that’s what matters.”
If this was a genuine conversation, you would have been touched. “Thanks, Ten.”
Ten drummed his fist against the wall to mimic the sound of someone knocking on a door, then rose and said, “That must be him. Come on.”
The two of you stepped into the corridor. Where, obviously enough, nobody awaited either of you. Ten shut the door and moved a great distance away from his office before he decided you were both in the clear.
As soon as you were in private, both of you began to giggle. Ten quipped, “Sure you don’t wanna work for me?”
You snickered. “I’m more than content with Yuta, thank you.”
“I have to commend you for your performance back there,” Ten told you, sincere. “Most people wouldn’t have even caught that they were bugged. That could’ve been bad. It’s impressive.”
“Likewise,” you replied. It was in your best interest to steer Mark’s team off course, if possible. They’d learn one way or another to mind the business that paid them.
Ten grabbed a tiny stick-like item from his pocket and pressed a red button at the bottom end of the device.
You furrowed your brows. “What’s that?”
“Bug detector. Jaemin made it for me,” he told you. Then, a red light beamed from the device, and Ten scanned you from head to toe. After a brief moment, he said, “You’re in the clear. I’ll take care of the bug. Did you learn anything else tonight?”
You nodded. “He knows Taeyong is the leader. I let him ask most of the questions tonight, but I’ll have my turn later. I’m posing as a friend that’s going to show him around.”
“Take him where you want.” Ten glanced at his watch. “I expect more from you by the end of the week.”
“Yes, sir,” you replied. Obviously, he had somewhere to be. “Goodnight.”
Throughout the week, you and Ten continued to use the wiretapping bug to your advantage. Faking conversations, making up false plans about the future of the gang. It was, more or less, a taunt.
Just as Ten expected of you, you had additional information to deliver by Saturday morning. Mark was no easy task, but where his partner was concerned, you learned things easily. For one, most of your identities were definitely known. Jeno was not sparing with his disdainful glares whenever he came across high-ranks.
Much less you, for that matter. Which made you wonder exactly what role you played in this situation, but that was still inconclusive. You assumed it was because you had direct ties to the second-in-command, but you merely did his bidding. Which had nothing to do with the trafficking of illegal drugs.
And Yuta never let you in on the affairs of the gang. It simply never came up. It was none of your business and you didn’t care. As long as they protected you.
Either they had no clue what they were doing, or they were looking to make a very big bust.
The following Monday, you marched straight into housing clad in dolphin shorts and a white t-shirt and knocked on Mark’s door. Very relentlessly given it was two in the morning.
Mark yelled, “I’m coming!” from somewhere across the apartment. When he opened the door, he squinted, half-awake. But positive that he was dreaming. “How the hell…”
You snickered. “You aren’t very hard to find, Markie. This is where the newbies that don’t have their own place live - I would know. Boss gave me access to the housing info.”
“Stalker,” he snarled insincerely, voice husky. It did something to you, but you would never admit it.
Instead, you rolled your eyes. It was very ironic, all things considered. He was going out of his way to investigate you and your boss’ friends. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, inviting yourself in. “Hurry up and get ready. We’re going to the ring.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “Shit, right now?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Shit. Let me go brush my teeth and change.”
Glancing around the apartment, there was nothing immediately suspicious or out of the ordinary. Just slightly messy. It looked very lived in.
Less than fifteen minutes later, you and Mark were out the door and on the road. The late night and early morning breeze was very comforting. Just traveling lightly on the road while the sun was still down was one of your favorite things to do.
Mark spoke teasingly over the radio, “Do you barge into people’s houses and homes to go fight very often?”
Unabashedly, you giggled. “No, actually. But I am very notorious for walking around like I own the place. You’re lucky enough that I had no choice but to knock.”
“You mean, beat the door in.”
“Did not,” you countered.
“No, you did,” he said. “You probably woke up everybody else on the same floor.”
You smarted and retorted, “Please. They should come watch me kick your ass.”
Mark was very amused by your confidence. “I’m gonna make you eat those words, doll.”
“Hit me with your best shot.”
He took the challenge. “Loser buys breakfast?”
You grinned smugly. “You’re on.”
The road led you to some bar with an enormous flickering neon light that displayed the name of the establishment. Despite the late hour - and how shady the exterior of the building appeared - the parking lot wasn’t empty.
With your finger, you signaled for Mark to follow behind you and entered the bar. Much to Mark’s surprise, your attire fitted right in with the lack of crowd. Most were sweaty and gulping glasses of water at the bar.
Mark cocked a brow and said, “I thought we were going to the ring.”
“We are,” you responded, fighting a smile. The bartender didn’t spare either of you a glimpse when you led him behind the counter and through the double doors.
You were met with a tiny hallway. There was a kitchen door on one end, but you brought him towards the other. It seemed much more exclusive than the others, no double doors or easy access. You placed your finger on the biometric lock and it clicked open.
“Woah,” Mark gasped.
You giggled and went into the empty room with a ring in its center. In contrast to the others, it was dimly lit by beams of neon red lights. There was another bar at one end and chairs and tables arranged elsewhere. “The private fighting room,” you announced. “It’s only used by higher-ups and their associates.”
“I just thought of at least eight Fight Club jokes I could make right now and half of them have something to do with Tyler Durden.”
You shook your head. “You’re insufferable. You’d lose your mind if we owned a movie theater.”
Mark smiled bashfully. “Can I talk about this place?”
You glared. But ultimately couldn’t resist bursting into laughter.
“Come on,” you gestured, stepping inside the ring. And he followed suit.
After you both warmed up, you asked, “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Mark replied without hesitation, eyes burning with sheer confidence. “Gotta warn you, though - I have a blackbelt in taekwondo.”
He wasn’t lying. You remembered seeing something like that in his profile.
“Good for you. I have a blackbelt in kicking Mark Lee’s ass.”
Mark taunted, “I would like to see you try.”
You got into position, holding your arms in a prepared stance. “Don’t go easy on me, Markie. If you couldn’t tell, I like things rough.”
As usual, Mark merely gave you a grin of unadulterated mischief.
The first round played in your favor. It ran more like a practice round if anything - Mark was more focused on becoming accustomed with how you fought than winning. As a result, you knocked him clean out.
Though Mark decided in the next round that he wasn’t playing any games. He had taken mercy upon you before, going easy on you in spite of what you told him, but you knew by now that Mark had a penchant for challenges and loathed losing. You thought that you had him right where you wanted him, but by the end of the match, he had you right where he wanted you.
“I was wrong about you, Markie,” you gasped after tapping out and accepting defeat. “You striked me as a Mama’s boy. The ‘I’d never hit a girl’ type.”
“I love my mama,” Mark grinned. “And of course, I’d never. But you asked for it.”
Mark helped you to your feet and you lightheartedly threatened, “I’m snitching.”
“Whatever you say,” he taunted. “I see why they call you Scar and not Punch.”
In a flash of anger, you lunged at him, but Mark caught you by your wrist promptly. He cocked his head and said smugly, “Cheater. The final round hasn’t started yet.”
The way he stared down your soul unnerved you. It wasn’t typical of you to show fear - and you didn’t - but saying that you were unaffected by his every move would be a blatant lie. Though there was absolutely nothing sinister about Mark. Maybe it wasn’t him that you were scared of. Maybe it was how he made you feel.
That was more dangerous than any threat.
When the next round initiated, you fought like a beast that had emerged right out of hell. There was no way in hell that you would go down without a fight.
This final round was all the more intense. You were convinced that if you had any spectators, they’d be completely exasperated by the suspense. The both of you kept bouncing shy of one another.
It was akin to a seesaw of action. When Mark landed a hit, you landed one harder. When you were above, suddenly Mark knocked you back down again.
“This isn’t over until one of us taps out,” Mark said.
You shrugged. “I can go all night.”
“So can I.”
Neither of you were backing down, that much was clear. It seemed preposterous - getting worked up over an unofficial game - but you were competitive and Mark was ambitious. The most minuscule of things were still another bridge to be crossed to people like you, no matter the size.
You either won or you lost. It was one to one. This was the tiebreaker; the round that made or broke the game. You didn’t mind buying him breakfast, but there was also a part of Mark that was so goddamn insufferable and you would rather not satisfy that insatiable desire of his.
“If you want your victory, come and get it,” you taunted.
“Say less,” Mark said. Then swung.
Courtesy of your agility, you were able to move out of the way. It was better than giving him the opportunity to lay his hands on you, even if you blocked the hit. You learned very quickly that Mark could make you think he was doing one thing and wound up doing another.
You took your chances, not permitting him the chance to realize what you were up to before you danced around his figure and tackled him to the ground.
You straddled him and smirked, pinning his arms firmly above his head. You were very aware of what kind of position you were in, but you weren’t complaining. It felt like you were at your throne at the very top of the world from above Mark.
Mark eyed you down. “Someone’s been doing her homework.”
You clutched even tighter around his wrist the more he spoke. To which Mark grimaced and quipped, “Are you trying to crush my bones or jump them?”
You teased, “Is that what you were dreaming about before I woke you up, Markie?”
“Not quite,” he replied with a chuckle, then switched on a dime. He flipped you over, hovering over you as you lay flat on your back. Instead of pinning your hands above your head like you’d done to him, he went for your throat.
His grip was strong. It wasn’t tight enough to cause you any genuine harm, as if he didn’t intend to hurt you, but you felt as if he could have bruised your throat.
The worst part? You didn’t thoroughly despise the feeling.
Mark leaned directly into your ear, then growled, “Tap out and I’ll let go.”
Resisting, you brought your fingers to his arm, though you swore his grip became firmer the longer you stood your ground. Mark merely stared into your eyes as you began to gasp for air, holding onto breath for dear life.
The way he looked into them, it was almost as if he was searching for something. You supposed Mark wallowed in the look of vulnerability in your eyes, or the life leaving them, but it couldn’t have been as prominent as the bliss etched onto your face. “You’re enjoying this,” he remarked, showing even less mercy with his palms.
When you were on the verge of unconsciousness, you tapped Mark’s arm with your fingers. And only then did his grip loosen.
Mark shook his head when you began to laugh. “You’re fucking crazy.”
Chest heaving, you replied, “I’ve heard that one before. Try harder.”
“You’re a fucking minx,” Mark taunted, voice dropping another octave. “But you know that too - don’t you?”
A provocative smile crept across your face. “I swear I don’t do it on purpose, Markie.”
There was a whirlwind of thoughts rippling around your brain as Mark leaned dangerously close to you. Heat flared through your body in place of your typical cold blood. You seemed to internally debate yourself, but it wasn’t as if you ever had very much of a conscience.
“Do it, Mark. Do it,” you chanted. From the pensive expression he sported, you were confident that half the thoughts in his head were temptingly screaming the same thing.
Mark steered out of his tiny reverie and began, “That guy - Yuta. He’s not your boyfriend?”
You burst into laughter that was on the brink of hysterical. “You’re kidding,” you said. But when Mark showed you no sign of toying, instead stern, you added, “Please. I love Yuta and I’m forever indebted to him, but I’d rather choke on my own blood than date him.”
That was all Mark needed to hear. “Say less.”
In the time that it took for him to close the tiny gap between the two of you, the last of Mark’s reluctance met its end. His mouth crashed against yours in haste, and you moved in a heated sync, swallowing each other’s tongues.
The taste of him drowned out the rest of the world. You forgot that Mark was a predator and you were his prey. You forgot that you were supposed to hunt him down. Each of your limbs tensed tautly with want and your will for pleasure made light work of your senses. You were enthralled by how well of a kisser he was.
Someone you used to know once told you that sex was a tool, love was a poison; combining the two was a one-way ticket to death. All of which slipped your mind completely as you involuntarily began to rasp your hips against his.
Mark grunted so lowly that you were at the brink of succumbing to insanity right then and there.
It was like Mark existed solely to tease the living hell out of you. Being a thorn in your side was what he thrived on. He kept slithering his hand up your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, and you did not miss the smug little grin on his face when you groaned in complaint.
You pulled away from his lips and warned, “Don’t tease me.”
Predictably, Mark was not alarmed. Your threats were of little substance to him. “Dunno, doll. It’s kinda fun to watch you get all worked up.”
Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed Mark’s wrist and slipped it down your shorts. You made a tiny noise when his fingers brushed over your clothed cunt, then purred, “Feel that, baby? Could be all yours if you stopped playing games.”
And with that, Mark was sold.
The both of you ran suspiciously out of the bar. You willed yourselves not to touch each other in front of anyone’s prying eyes, but the way you rushed out said enough.
You decided on going to Mark’s place. There was nothing to hide at yours because you refused to bring work home with you, but your address was sensitive information. Sleeping with someone never prevented them from betraying you and nor did it invoke an unbendable bond to be broken in the first place.
But the moment you stepped inside Mark’s apartment, it was game over. You couldn’t stay away from one another, stumbling over his belongings as you made out while stripping along the way to his bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.
You wondered exactly how long this desire had been pent up. Maybe you suppressed it out of priority for your jobs, but it had expanded into something unignorable now. The tiny sparks became a full-fledged forest fire.
Mark pushed your naked figure against his mattress and gave your now-naked body a once-over. “I never realized how many tattoos you have,” he rasped. 
There was also a huge scar on your stomach. He had caught glimpses of it during your fight, but the full sight made him curious. Alas, now wasn’t the time to ask questions. 
“Mm,” you hummed, stifling a giggle. “If you do a good enough job, I might tell you the stories behind them.”
“Then, I hope you’re ready to talk,” he said confidently.
You arched a brow. “You talk a big game, but aren’t showing me what you’re made of.”
Mark gripped your thighs apart and at the sight of your dripping cunt, he growled, “Just watch. You’re going to be a mess by the time I’m done with you.”
Before you could offer another retort, Mark pushed his head between your legs and began to have at it.
A little sigh eased past your throat when you felt his tongue lap at your folds. His mouth was warm against the flesh, heat spreading in waves throughout your body and core. You willed yourself to keep your reactions to a minimum, not wanting to give Mark the satisfaction of seeing you at your very worst.
Eyeing him from the bed, you basked in the sight of him devouring you like a five-star meal. Your arms were propped by his pillows very comfortably. You watched him swallow you whole, his veins becoming taut as his grip on your upper legs became ruthless and his wavy red hair tickled your plush thighs.
You were in heaven, needlessly to say. Mark sucked at you without a shred of mercy. No matter how much you liked a boy, you never tended to keep your expectations as high as your standards when it came to bedroom performance and going down on you, but Mark was full of surprises. True to his word, you were somewhat certain that at this rate, you would be a mess by the time that he was finished with you.
“Fuck,” you mewled when he started to lick and suck at your clit.
Mark smirked against your folds. He was going to be the death of you.
Each of your attempts to remain quiet were defiled by your more than loud moans, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered. It was as if Mark knew exactly how to push your buttons (and which buttons to press).
Meanwhile, Mark’s mind was ablaze with thoughts of you. The sight of your body would be indefinitely etched behind his eyelids. Your intricate tattoos that told various tales across your perfect skin, and your plush thighs that tensed whenever he brushed your clit.
You could feel your pulse throbbing in your core. Your thighs trembled, your hips involuntarily moving against Mark’s mouth to derive as much pleasure as possible. It seemed desperate, but you were reduced to fire and bones in no time at all. All you knew how to do was ravage everything in your course to feed your flame. And Mark was hellbent on ravaging you.
You clutched Mark’s hair and cried out, “Mark.”
He seemed to rejoice in how utterly responsive  and reactive you’d become, unable to defy your body’s demanding urges. It was impossible. And your reactions only fed him, spurring him on to milk you completely dry.
You swore you felt nothing but sheer thrill. It was comparable to the high you received from racing. The way nothing else mattered, and all your focus was so centered on one particular thing that you couldn’t think of anything else. You were enticed by danger and entrusting Mark with power over your body was a great enough threat.
Mark was way too attracted to everything about you. Tasting you and watching you lose your grip of control on his tongue only amplified that allure with the addition of arousal. To hell with his job if it meant that he could spend one more moment with you in his mouth.
Maybe he was attracted to danger, too. You and danger tended to go hand in hand, but so did danger and his lifestyle. There was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of you.
“Just like that, baby. Oh my god,” you moaned, angling your head back. For the sake of your pride, you tried to desperately cling to whatever remained of your sanity, but Mark was resolved on unraveling you.
Your sounds became louder and Mark discerned that you were on the verge of release. If you hadn’t awakened his neighbors when you gave his door hell earlier, they were certainly now contemplating filing noise complaints.
Mark separated himself from you ever so briefly and growled, “Come on, doll. Do it for me.”
The little pet name never invoked much thought from you. You assumed he wanted compensation for the nickname you’d dropped on him, and thus let it slide. But in that moment, it made you weak - and you loathed pet names.
This was going to bring it home. Every nerve in your body was tense and uptight. Your fingers and toes tingled with the threat of release, heat spasming in your core and the palms of your hands.
You climaxed in a fit of unadulterated pleasure, tightening your grip on Mark’s red locks and convulsing by reflex. You practically curled in on yourself, every bit of you clenching emptily as fervor shot through your body. Mark didn’t grant you the mercy of letting you ease through your climax, unrelenting as he continued to suck and lick at your pussy ruthlessly.
Mark brought you to a second orgasm in half the amount of time it took to achieve the first one, and only then did he crawl away and let you breathe. You heaved shallow breaths, blinking through the rise and fall of your chest. Never had you felt anything so intensely. You were milked completely dry.
Mark didn’t comment, but his words were heavy through the signature glimmer in his eyes. And smile tugging the corners of his lips. “So, am I getting that bedtime story?”
You replied through heavy breaths, “Take your pick.”
He snickered.
Mark licked his lips and thus your arousal from his mouth. You shot up and straddled him, wasting little time in sucking at his neck. Mark shook his head. “Jesus, woman. Do you rest?”
Stifling a laugh, you purred, “I regenerate quickly.”
That didn’t surprise Mark in the slightest. He could have guessed. “Good to know.”
Pressing kisses to his neck, you began to rock against his hips, feeling his hard cock through the confines of his underwear. You anchored yourself on his shoulders and teased, “Shouldn’t we do something about this problem of yours?”
Mark angled his head back. “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.
You pushed his chest down in a successful attempt to knock him backwards and his back met the mattress. But the kisses never ended, and you found it nearly impossible to tear yourself from his skin. Until you felt him involuntarily thrust against your hips, needy.
“Patience,” you sang. Granted, you didn’t have much of your own, either. The way he brought you to another world and back only moments ago had you desperate to recreate the feeling. 
You lifted your purse off of the nightstand not too out of reach from you and retrieved a condom. For good reason, you figured Mark wouldn’t have any.
Mark cocked a brow. “You keep those on you?”
Of course, you did. You preferred to be safe over sorry. Not to mention that your hookup who shall not be named tended to forget them. Deliberately. You subconsciously smirked. “Mind the business that pays you,” you murmured, dragging his underwear down his ankles. And fitting the condom over the head of his cock.
You and Mark let out a simultaneous noise of bliss as you rolled onto him. His hands found purchase at your hips while yours pressed featherly against his stomach. You took him inch by inch, leisurely making your way down as your cunt opted to easily swallow him whole.
Mark nearly lost his mind being engulfed by your heat. His fingertips dug almost painfully into your waist for mental anchor, supporting himself with all his might. For goodness sake, you were so tight. It didn’t help that you still leaked with arousal from your previous two orgasms, even more sensitive from them. The moment you were snug around his cock, he felt you clench.
“Mm, Mark,” you moaned, rocking against him at your own pace. You took the lead, following your own rhythm and Mark didn’t have it in him to stop you. Hell, not that he wanted to.
This was, for lack of a better word, a very bad idea. But neither of you seemed to care. It felt forbidden - doing as much as even thinking about each other so lecherously, but that was half the fun. Neither of you could restrain the lascivious thoughts that ran rampant through your minds when you caught a glimpse of your naked bodies or heard a lewd noise.
The other half, of course, was the actual fucking.
And when Mark heard you call out his name, it took all his willpower to not finish himself right then and there. Not Markie - Mark. He steered dangerously close to release at the mere sound of your honey-like voice.
Mark found it in himself to tease, “Enjoying yourself up there?”
“Like a queen on her throne,” you retorted.
He certainly made you feel like royalty, that was for sure. You felt worshiped by his tongue. Now, you were at reign over his body. And all Mark could do was lie there and behold you as if you were a royal immortal deity.
There was a moment that passed where he considered throwing it all away for you without a second thought. You were a lethal weapon of temptation; that Mark knew, yet he was disposed to capitulate to you. As if you’d lulled him into a fatal trance with the very grace of your body alone.
Though your every move was unpredictable, Mark didn’t know what to expect when you leaned closely to his neck. But it certainly wasn’t for you to bite at the skin. He let out an embarrassing whine at the feeling of your teeth leaving marks and tiny remnants of you on his throat.
You arched a brow. Then, teased, “Whine for me again, Mark.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled.
Your lips brushed ever so gently against his and you tauntingly whispered, “Make. Me.”
As aforementioned, Mark was comprised of surprises. His hands rose from your waist to your bouncing tits and he thrusted up, achieving a whimper of surprise from you.
He smirked at the way your face tensed with pleasure and your fingers grasped his biceps for dear life. “Holy fuck,” you cried, clinging to him as if you’d sink into the pits of the earth otherwise. He kept fucking you from below, watching you intently as he admired his handiwork with complacency.
He sneered, “Whine for me again, doll.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.
Mark snickered. Now where had he heard that before?
The softest of moans parted your lips as Mark fondled with your breast and his hands eventually rose, fingers clawing around your throat. He missed seeing that look in your eyes. The one of air depleting itself from your lungs and the blood circulation ceasing to flow and the pleasure sparkling a tiny gleam.
You satisfied his urges, face blanching the longer he held his grip. And the tighter. Mark very much could have done as he pleased with you, but you knew he’d never let this go too far. Just enough to have you at the verge of blacking out.
Although you were remotely dizzy when he released you from his clutch, you liked it. You never quite noticed it before, but there was a fiery gleam in Mark’s eyes when he choked you. Something sinister. There was an animal in him that had gone dormant for far too long and you’d finally aroused the beast.
And you were the only one to date that had seen it and didn’t flee.
The two of you were dangerously close to climax. With how close in proximity your bodies were - combined by every thrust and grind - there was no way on earth either of you couldn’t tell. You began to rasp your hips against his cock in a vigorously synchronized motion, desperate for the heat of the friction that made you tingle. Piece by piece, you were breaking into rupture.
Mark was no better. Just looking at you had him dangling over the edge. Dangerously. It would only take one little slip before he fell depthlessly into a pit of you that seemingly had no top and no bottom. Just you, only you.
“Let go for me, doll,” Mark ordered softly, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “You’ve been doing so good for me.”
His mouth and hands knew no boundaries when it came to your body. They roamed you, his tongue slithering around your nipple and his hands roughly finding purchase on your ass. You were also very sensitive in areas where your tattoos lived, he learned, and used that knowledge to his advantage. Mark was single-handedly going to destroy you.
“Let go,” he sang again, gentle and tempting.
You began to tighten around him involuntarily. It was coming. “I’m…”
Mark held you firmly. “Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”
You saw stars when you came for the third time, orgasm hitting you in full force. It was nothing short of intense. You clamped around Mark, walls tight around him as well as your grip on his biceps. Your thighs shuddered with climax, and a shrill cry erupted from your lips. 
Mark grunted, “Fuck.” The feeling of you pulsing around him undoubtedly sent him down a similar fate. His hands fell to your hips and held them to the point of bruising.
After you rode out the rest of your high, you slacked. You lied against his warm chest, feeling him breathe rapidly as you desperately clung to your own breath.
“Do you feel okay?”
“I feel great,” you heaved. “Do you wanna stop?”
Mark faintly smiled at how much endurance you had. “Nope.”
You rode Mark until sunrise.
When both of you roused again, the clock had already ticked past noon. You made room for another, much lazier round, and settled for brunch instead of breakfast.
Then you split and went your own separate ways. You waltzed straight into Bloodlust’s headquarters. Given you were channeling all of your focus into this Mark mission, your schedule was indefinitely clear of all else. Which left you with leeway to choose someone to vex.
You stepped into Yuta’s office without knocking, yet before you could get a word out, he barked, “Did you come here to tell me that you’re sleeping with the enemy?”
Blinking, you resisted a frown. And said nonchalantly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Lying to a high-rank. Wrong move. And also impossible to get away with.
Yuta shook his head, scowling. “Jisung said that he saw you both running out of The Lion’s Den. Disorderly. And something told him it wasn’t because of a fight.”
Park Jisung, when I get my hands on you, you bristled inwardly. You never did get along with that boy. On more than one occasion, you had to be separated so that you wouldn’t kill each other.
You rolled your eyes and sat across from your boss. With light humor, you replied, “Please. If anything, I have Mark right where I want him.”
“Don’t walk into a trap,” Yuta warned.
Traps were laid by people like you, not the opposite. You were many things and stupid was not one of them. Just another casualty, you told yourself. That’s all Mark was. You refused to allow him to become anything more. “If you’re done, I have something. Mark thought that I was your girlfriend - what if that’s the connection? He’s using me to get to you.”
“That’s possible,” Yuta sobered. “But he would have to know that you wouldn’t snitch on your lover. I’d kill both you and him with my bare hands.”
“Terrifying,” you deadpanned. “Has Ten or Jaemin been able to get in?”
Yuta gave a shake of his head and drawled, “Nope. They’ve got that unit on lock. Apparently drugs are super sensitive information.”
Blowing out a breath, you turned pensive. They were hiding something, obviously. You were half-tempted to march up to Mark and demand he tell you everything he knew, but it was too risky of a move. Though it wasn’t like he had gotten many leads through you, and there had to be something keeping him joined at your hip.
But what?
At first, you considered that maybe you’d given away more than you realized, yet nothing you told him was incriminating enough to arrest anyone with a drug trafficking charge. Hell, if that was the case, Jisung would have led you all to demise already.
“I can hear your gears turning. Stop thinking,” Yuta quipped, steering you out of your reverie. He could never stay mad at you - or serious - for very long. “Listen, babe. Just keep him at bay. If we make no progress, we’ll bring out the extremes. Everything will be perfectly fine.”
You nodded. “Perfectly fine,” you repeated.
Everything was not perfectly fline.
During the past couple of weeks, things had taken a sharp turn between you and Mark. You intended to leave him for dead after that first hookup, yet the more time you spent together, the more each of you burned with lust.
And so it happened again. And again. And you lost track of how many times you’d slipped away to fuck Mark and suck on his tongue.
Of course, the quality of the sex never declined. You were both pleased and enraged at the fact that Mark had range. Every time you both hooked up, the only thing that stayed consistent was the want that shot through your core. For fuck’s sake, he just had to be a man of variety.
In a nutshell, you were completely fucked.
There was an event at the gang’s casino and you snagged Mark as your date. As if anyone else would risk it. You were the only one crazy enough to personally involve yourself with a cop.
Which, you tried to erase from your memory. There would come a day where he’d try to send you away in cuffs. And you’d have to kill him before he got the chance.
You shivered at the thought.
“You clean up nice,” you commented when you came to pick him up.
Mark was dressed very pleasantly. The red hair was a stark contrast to the fancy black suit and trousers he sported, though given the semi formal occasion, he abandoned the frivolous style and opted for a neater hairdo. You were approximately three seconds away from forgetting about the goddamn casino altogether.
Similarly, you wore a red gown that flowed down your legs, hair styled elegantly and your face beat. Casinos were very much not your scene, and underneath the dress you kept an armed and poised gun resting ungrudgingly inside of the leather holster at your thigh.
“Thank you, m’lady. You’re very beautiful,” Mark replied, taking hold of your fingers and kissing the back of your hand gently.
You grinned. Then began to snicker when you noticed your heels gave you a couple more inches of height on him.
Mark cocked a brow. “What’cha laughing at?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Obviously, Mark didn’t believe you in the slightest. Though he said nothing, instead leading you to the elevator. “I’m driving,” he told you, leaving absolutely no room for argument.
You furrowed your brows when you saw your keys in his palm. “When the hell did you get those?”
Mark grinned smugly and jiggled the keys. “You should pay more attention.”
You were absolutely affronted. There was no way in hell Mark Lee had caught you off-guard. You folded your arms across your chest and Mark snickered, then pressed a little kiss to your neck to placate you.
As you slipped out of the elevator and into the lobby, you quipped, “Make sure to drive the speed limit and not the speedometer limit.”
Mark opened the door for you, yet retaliated, “You’d know a lot about driving over the speed limit, wouldn’t you?”
“Shush,” you mumbled, fighting a smile.
“I believe the correct answer is ‘Thank you, gentleman.’”
You hardly leaned off of your heels when you swayed towards Mark, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and purring, “Thank you, gentleman.”
Mark clamped his arm around your waist and said, “Much better.”
There was a grand casino connected to the hotel that the gang owned. They never invested in anything unprofitable. The building was sky-scraping and vivid in the dimming indigo night, its gold exterior oriented to attract the attention of men and women of means. Courtesy of the supplementing hotel, it had valet parking.
As expected, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking. A large glimmering chandelier hung at the front entrance. There were even tinier ones the further you voyaged across the long red carpet, hanging on the sunken ceiling. You were surrounded by tall pillars and arrays of staircases and even the air felt different inside the casino. It was more or less a very marvelous labyrinth of money.
Mark whistled. “Snazzy. You know what this reminds me of?”
“What?”
“Vegas, baby. Vegas!”
You narrowed your eyes. You didn’t want to know what his Letterboxd account looked like. Or introduce him to one, for that matter. Leaning into his chest, you asked, “Ever been?”
“Once. It’s very beautiful.” Just like you, he was tempted to add, but he didn’t want to come off cheesy. “I should take you there one day.”
Mark was a little too good at toying with your heart for your liking. Both of you knew very well that a future with you together did not exist.
And yet your mind blinked with images of you and Mark in Las Vegas. Him showing you around the sin city. Wandering the streets in each other’s arms, laughing and marveling at its beauty with heartfelt awe. You saw his dumb face and his stupid smile and knew that you were over. 
After a bit of walking, the two of you finally found yourselves amongst the rest of the gang. The occasion was nothing special; for the most part, they were discussing deals with other groups and further things you didn’t get paid enough to be concerned about. You saw Qian Kun and knew to make a run for it. He saw everything from a business perspective, which was great for the gang - and your paycheck - but agonizingly boring.
And then, you ran into Park Jisung and instantly knew that you should have stayed home.
Sternly, you greeted, “Jisung.”
“You,” Jisung icily greeted, less than pleased to see you.
“I have a name, you know,” you reminded with a scowl.
Jisung didn’t hesitate and shot, “And I’d rather not stain my tongue by saying it.”
“You son of a…”
Mark growled in your ear, “Behave.”
Jisung raised his brow when you switched on a dime and rather quickly composed yourself. Where was this guy when he was having a heated quarrel with you for the umpteenth time? Shutting you up on command? He doubted even Yuta had that kind of power over you.
Worst of all, he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.
“I have to speak with her,” Jisung said, refusing to say your name. Then added, “Alone.”
Mark angled towards you. “Will you be okay?”
Absolutely not. The last time you had a one on one conversation with Jisung, one of you nearly died. It was certainly not a great idea to leave you alone together.
But something told you to nod.
Mark, skeptical, pressed, “You’re going to be good, right?”
“Very classy,” you retorted, despite wanting to be literally anywhere else. You hoped whatever Jisung had to say was of significant value. For him to willingly speak to you, it had to be life-threatening. “I’m going to have a civil conversation with my peer like the two adults that we are.”
“Okay,” Mark replied with scrunched brows, still hesitant. “I’ll be over there with Jeno.”
Throwing both you and your less than lovely coworker another glance, Mark parted and left you to fend for yourself.
As soon as Mark was a safe distance away, Jisung immediately said, “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”
Your face immediately puzzled. “What makes you think I trust him?”
Jisung laughed in your face. “Are you for real? For one, you’re fucking. Don’t deny it because I saw you running out of The Lion’s Den, and I know what people who eagerly want to fuck each other look like. I see the way you look at him.”
“Are you worried about me, Jisung?” you quipped. You refused to pay any heed to what he was insinuating. Let alone accept it.
Jisung scoffed, “No. I’m worried about you jeopardizing the future of this gang.”
“That’s rich,” you said, crossing your arms. And trying to identify the cleanest way to insult him. “It wouldn’t be a singlehanded error. You’re literally incriminating us by having him under the drug branch in the first place. You guys let two cops in and didn’t even notice. The only words I should be hearing from you are ‘thank you.’”
“Stop. You’re deflecting, as usual,” he sighed. “Just like the brat mouth you are.”
Instead of giving him a seething response, you gritted your teeth. And bit your tongue. Literally. At some point, you decided he was no longer worth your wasted breath.
Which Jisung noticed and added, “See? I can tell he has a heavy grip on you. This is the first time you’ve ever held your tongue talking to me.”
You had an argument ready to fire, but stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that he was right. Why hadn’t you told Jisung off in vulgar terms yet?
No. It didn’t mean a thing. There was absolutely nothing to it other than you coming to your senses and realizing that bickering with Jisung was - and always had been - utterly pointless. He was obstinate and even after hours of debate, you wouldn’t be anywhere much further than where you started.
Never had you answered to anyone. In spite of working for other people, they knew that you marched to beat of your own drum. There were some traits of yours that were nonnegotiable and they’d either have to accept it or cut you loose.
Ever since you were an infant, you’d carried a reputation. Hell, maybe even before then. You had been called many things in such a short lifetime and an untamable lost cause was likely the least hurtful of them all. Nobody ever believed that anyone as wild as you could be salvaged from the destruction you’d inflicted upon yourself. And hence you began to believe it yourself.
This was the only life that you’d known. It was one where you had no option but to fend for yourself and isolate yourself from the world out of self-preservation. How the hell were you supposed to know how to react to someone sneaking their way inside and making you see life through a different lense?
You had seen so much in your years that you falsely believed that you were numb to fear. But you had never been so scared of something before; change.
You forced yourself to say, “Have a good night, Jisung.” And made a beeline for Mark. The walls of the enormous building were suddenly beginning to close in on you and you felt as if there was no air in a room full of space.
“I need a breather,” you said to Mark, interrupting his conversation.
Mark gave Jeno a glance, then took your fingers in his and asked, “Where to?”
“The rooftop,” you replied lightly, feeling drained and you’d only just got here.
The two of you stopped by the bar and downed a glass of hard liquor before you made your way to the rooftop. There was an elevator with calming music that brought you to the very top of the building.
You decided that you preferred the rooftop as soon as you stepped onto the terrace. It was lit by purple neon lights and void of people, and the air felt fresh and inhalable. Like a breath of fresh air. There were sofas with tiny tables crammed in between scattered about the floor and even further were glass railings that overlooked the entire shining city.
Even at night, the city was never dead, busy with bustling roads and brightly lit structures. You were certain that that was when it came to life.
Mark embraced you in a back hug and you swore time slowed down. But did your heart always beat this fast when he touched you?
“Talk to me,” Mark exhaled, breathing tickling the back of your neck.
You let his touch warm you. It was a great contrast against the chill breeze that swept over the roof at this elevation. “About what?”
“Anything. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I like you, you said to yourself. And I’m scared because I don’t know what to do.
You shook your head. “How about I kiss you instead?”
“You could have just said that you want to kiss me,” Mark murmured.
Lightheartedly, you admitted, “I want to kiss you so bad, Mark Lee.”
Mark laughed and whirled you around, pinning you against the nearby wall and meeting his lips to yours. It all happened so fast - just like everything else between you two. Everything lasted both for a second and in perpetuity. 
He kissed you until you were stripped bare and empty of every last thought. It felt like magic. How he gained the remedy to instantly put you at ease was a mystery, but you didn’t wonder. You just kept sipping from his poison and inhaling the toxins. There was no hope for you anymore. Mark was withering you away and you were simply letting him.
This was wrong on so many levels and yet you never let that stop you. There were no boundaries.  You both took what you wanted and you took what you needed without giving any fucks about who didn’t like it. Desperately did you want to believe that nothing would come between you two.
You bit Mark’s lip and he groaned, nails digging into your waist. Which then prompted a tiny noise to part from your own lips. You were a parallel set of actions. It was strange; you didn’t fight for superiority, you fought to be even and equal.
There was something different in the kiss after you bit Mark. As if he’d been injected with an animalistic venom. The tempo increased and you fought to keep up with his every move, moaning into his lips as his tongue let loose inside of your mouth. His grip got even tighter, as if he was holding you to keep you to himself and himself only. There was no where else that you would run. As ironic as it was, you felt safest in Mark’s arms. He was the haven you never had.
Then, you heard a noise. You discerned that Mark heard it too, because he pulled away instantly and caged you behind him defensively. And your heart warmed at the gesture, though you needed no savior.
You sighed and pulled your gun from your holster, calling out, “You’ve got until the count of five to come out because if I have to find you my goddamn self, I’ll blow your brains. One. Two. Three…,”
At the third count, Jeno emerged from behind one of the chairs, gun drawn.
You began to snicker and waved him off. “Oh, put that damn thing down. Hit the road, Jack. And don’t let me catch you again.”
Jeno begrudgingly made a move for the door, not failing to cast you an ugly glare before his glance shifted to Mark, who started at his partner bemusedly. He left without a word.
You glanced up at Mark. “Why was your friend spying on us?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Mark said, tone full of genuine perplexity.
You furrowed your brows. If Jeno was spying on you and Mark without either of your knowledge, what did that mean?
Maybe he didn’t know what was happening between you and Mark.
With a shake of your head, you grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the glass railing. And he followed you like a moth to light. You propped your arms against the cool glass and called out, “Mark.”
“Hm?” came Mark’s response from right beside you.
You reluctantly tasted the words on your tongue before you asked, “What was your childhood like?”
“I was born under a bridge,” Mark deadpanned. To  which you snorted and nudged his side. “But nah. I didn’t have much growing up. My mom got hooked on drugs real bad and she couldn’t take care of me and my brothers, so we moved in with our aunt. She did the best she could to make ends meet, but you know how that shit works. Whole time, my cousin was on the streets. Made a gang. I followed in his footsteps close enough.”
“What happened for you to wind up here?” you asked, listening with interest.
Mark’s face was impassive. “He’d kill me if he saw me right now.”
As vague as that answer was, you understood perfectly.
There was irony in his story. He was a gang member, then became a cop? Though you were aware that he could have legally lied to you as much as he so pleased, you believed that he was sincere. You learned by now that Mark’s eyes said more than his words ever could.
“What about you?” Mark asked. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes trained to the big city before him, but you knew his ears were ready. “How’d you get here?”
“Fasten your seatbelt,” you joked. Mark had already heard bits and pieces of your life via the stories of some of your tattoos, but this was full screen. “I think I’ve been a demon from hell before I even walked the earth. According to what I’ve heard, my family was against my mother having me. There was a huge stigma that came with having a baby at a young age and without a present father figure. She died during the delivery.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said sullenly.
You shook your head and continued, “Water under the bridge. It doesn’t get better. I’ve been called a killer since the day I was born. It only made sense that I became one. They said that’s all I was, so I ran and turned to the streets and found a new home. I was in and out of gangs and had several sketchy jobs.”
Mark bobbed his head, listening intently.
“There was one gang I thought I would last in. The one I was in before I joined Bloodlust. I even dated one of the members, but he got violent on me one day. I killed him out of self defense. And I got scared, because I knew I couldn’t come back to the gang after that. The leader would kill me.”
“Is that when you joined Bloodlust?”
You bobbed your head. “Remember when I told you that I’m forever indebted to Yuta? That’s because he saved my life. Took me under his wing and gave me another job and somewhere safe to stay. That’s why we’re so close.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mark said, taking it all in. “You’ve been through hell and back.”
“You’re telling me,” you groaned.
Peace was not a word of any value to you. You’d never known what it felt like. The only thing you knew was survival. It was kill or be killed; hunt or be hunted. Life, in your definition, was a series of bad options and choosing the one that was the least loathsome.
After all, you did what you could to live another day. It was never easy, but you learned everything you knew about survival through those everyday choices. You fought for your life every goddamn day and knew nothing different.
It was a battle of strength that required all of your willpower to not succumb.
You blinked when Mark pulled you into a hug. He enjoyed talking to you. Life as either of you’d known it was a bitch, but getting to know you and all you’d been through brought you closer. And all he wanted to do was hold you underneath the moonlight and ease the pain of your scars.
For the most part, the inner circle knew your history, though not from an emotional perspective. The only people you’d ever given an emotional account to were Yuta and now Mark. Yuta was firm on assuring you that yesterday would no longer matter if you worked for him, but Mark made you feel less alone.
Mark was clawing you out of your armor and defenses. You were stripped bare and vulnerable. There was still so much left unseen and for you to explore in this life.
The two of you chatted the night away below the depthlessly starry sky and above the bustling city. You talked about everything under the sun and moon while being sure to share a kiss or two in between. It made you realize that in such a large world, you and Mark were simply two people with a story to share.
But as the time ticked away, the kisses became more frequent and more passionate. You became less interested in the casino and more enamored with Mark. Somewhere along the line your self-restraint snapped into two, and you found yourselves calling it a night and reserving a room at the hotel.
It wasn’t any less lavish than the casino. Especially not the suite you booked. There was a hot tub in the room and a balcony extended out the side with yet another picturesque view of the city.
Plus, it was a one-bedroom with a single bed.
Mark sat at the edge of the mattress and you wasted no time in straddling his lap and meeting your lips to his. It felt like an adventure. The wild and reckless and lethal type.
You could savor him on you even after. And it was the burning longing to taste Mark again that ultimately brought you three steps forwards and two steps back.
Mark pulled away, guilt-ridden, and reminded, “I’m a cop.”
He didn’t know how he expected you to respond, but you didn’t flinch. Like you already knew and you couldn’t care less. You offhandedly replied, “I know,” and endeavored to kiss him again.
Mark held you in place. His expression turned stern and you blew out an exasperated sigh. You were lightyears away from being ready to have this conversation. “So, you’re sleeping with the enemy.”
“I know. But so are you.”
“I know,” Mark said. Lord, did he know.
“Then,” you began, moving for his neck instead and uttering your words in between tiny pecks and nibbles. “We have nothing to talk about.”
Mark angled your bodies and pinned you down - as if that would stop you - and countered, “We have a lot to talk about.”
Frustrated, you incredulously groaned, “You want to talk about how I’m gonna have to put a round of bullets in your brain in the near future while I’m trying to fuck you?”
Mark scoffed, “You mean, I’m gonna have to hand you in cuffs to the police.”
“I’d like to see you try,” you taunted. It would have been in your best interest to be very careful about what you wished for, though you knew Mark would never. You refused to believe that.
Mark shook his head, laughing. As if he’d read your mind and wholeheartedly agreed that the thought was absurd. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”
“Prove it.”
Mark leaned down to kiss you for a half of a second, then whispered in your ear, “I will.”
Then, he switched on a dime, and all of the heat and passion of his desire overcame him again.
You were fucking with a Leo; you should have known that you were in for the most wild ride of your life.
Void of patience, Mark clawed at your clothes roughly. You had the whole night, but he stripped you away as if you had only minutes to spare. The whole time, your lips locked in an impassioned kiss as you tried intensely to keep up with the other’s rhythm.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Mark growled. He spoke his mind. It was the first thing he thought every time he laid eyes on you.
The tone of his voice had you seeping with arousal, and to hide your desperation, you flirted, “Fuck me then, handsome.”
Mark grunted. He couldn’t wait anymore. “Do you have a condom?”
“Yes, but I have an IUD,” you added, hoping he’d catch your drift.
Mark blinked in realization. “Fuck. You want me to…”
“Yes,” you groaned, growing more impatient by the minute. “You’re clean, right?”
“Squeaky.”
“Then, hurry up.”
So much for not seeming desperate.
Mark shed his remaining layers of clothing and you licked your lips at the sight of his cock standing at full height against his stomach. Making out with you always got him hard like nothing else on this planet.
You eyed his movements with anticipation. Your body was burning for him to fill the void that he’d created. Like you weren’t complete until he was buried deeply inside you.
Your heart sped as he neared your hole. Mark was nothing if not a tease. He damped himself in your arousal and only pushed in when he heard you whimper, smiling smugly to himself. The first thrust was agonizingly slow. Mark took his sweet time to fit his cock into you, watching your face twist and your breath slow as you took him inch by inch.
There was something about the first thrust that was inexplicably magical to you. Being filled to the hilt with thick heat for the very first time. You held your breath every time.
Then, Mark pulled back out altogether and on cue, you let out an immediate noise of displeasure. “Mark…”
The man in question was firm on reducing you to ash and bones. “Beg,” he growled, leaning low into your ear.
You laughed. As if to tell him he sounded insane. “I don’t beg.”
Mark didn’t blink when he told you, “You do today.” His face was void of all humor and he glanced at you expectantly. He dragged his length on top of your pussy, steering just shy of where you needed him. And it was very intentional.
God, did you try to resist, but Mark had grown familiar with your weaknesses in such a short span of time. Every bone in your body ached for him to fill you. To make you complete once more. It begged to be unabridged and tell him your body’s every secret story. And your pride was a fair compensation.
You stifled a groan and said faintly, “Please.”
“C’mon, doll. You can do better than that,” Mark chided playfully, evidently dissatisfied.
You exhaled a sigh and inhaled your pride. “Please, fuck me, Mark. I can’t wait anymore. I need you.”
Mark teased, “Now, was that so hard?” And before you could provide any commentary, he was burying himself inside you yet again.
It wasn’t very long before you were content again. You let out a sigh of relief when Mark filled you once more, and another when he thrusted out and pushed back inside. His rough hands gripped your hips and he watched the way your cunt swallowed him whole, as if you simply couldn’t get enough of him.
Fuck, you felt like heaven. The way you clamped around him - warm and wet and tight - always set off something animalistic inside of him, but bareback? There was no way in hell he would last.
Mark was only slow to tease you. The moment he exhausted his self-control, he set an uptempo pace. He eyed you like a preying hawk, thinking about how beautiful you were. It was an unshakable thought; you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eagerly taking his cock like you were made for it or not.
Everything felt so natural with Mark. Nothing was learned nor taught, it was simply second nature for your body to respond to him with ardency and abidance. It came naturally.
“You feel so good,” Mark groaned, giving your thigh a little slap as if to punish you for bringing him to ecstasy. And smirking a little when you let out a tiny cry. “Why do you feel so good?”
You playfully retorted, “‘Cause I’m a goddess.”
Mark nodded. “I believe you.” He brought one of his hands from your hips and ventured your perfect body. Perfect in his eyes. Every spot and curve and scar. And the bruises he’d left, of course. “My Aphrodite.”
You lifted your head a little to clench your teeth into his neck and Mark leaned into you, biting at your shoulder to smother his sounds. Which made you giggle. It always amused you that he was so sensitive to your every touch.
Gosh, you were so goddamn close; skin on skin. Fire wafted over your body, fueled by the flames of his sweltering skin. Sweat beaded at your skin and heat shot through every muscle of your body. The way Mark was pounding into you mercilessly only made you scorch even more. It was impossible to breathe and you loved it. There was no greater feeling than being suffocated by pleasure and arousal.
You locked eyes with Mark and swore you couldn’t feel your pulse. Missionary wasn’t something you did with Mark very often, but you loved to watch his face tense with pleasure. And making prolonged eye contact caused your heart to swell with something unfamiliar. Something vicious and strong that made your entire body ignite with warmth.
The sex was rough and fast, yet intimate. Mark was just the right amount of all three.
Mark loosely gripped your throat and growled, “Tell me you love it.”
You bowed your body into him, moaning, “I love it so much.” 
That was the right answer. Mark continued to love you all over. His body never neglected any part of yours, showering you with warmth and pleasure. Like he had nothing but depthless appreciation for you.
The longer Mark fucked you, the less you could think of anything other than him. You forgot about the huge city right outside the balcony. Everyone and everything else melted away and it was only you and Mark chasing the satisfaction of each other’s bodies and love. 
Love. You were beginning to accept it. There was nowhere to run and no escape; not when Mark was overwhelming you with heated fervor and passion. He was suffocating you with that forbidden four-letter word.
You were beginning to fall in love with Mark.
If love was a poison, you were sipping to your demise and savoring the taste on your tongue. If combining sex with love was a one-way ticket to death, you’d die in Mark’s arms. There was no place else you’d rather be.
“All mine,” Mark growled, pressing kisses down your collarbone and breast to your stomach. All you could feel were tingles that refused to vacate you. They’d found a new home.
Softly, you replied, “All yours.”
There was no arguing with that. The way your body responded to his touch, it was as if you were carefully crafted for Mark and Mark only. Which, the way he fit perfectly inside of you was a testament to.
Mark made you feel rupture and rapture. They were practically indistinguishable. He broke you into a billion tiny pieces that were held together by unfaltering desire.
Just listening to the mess that you’d both created set you ablaze. The wet, resounding clap of Mark slamming his hips into yours as well as your moans and heavy breaths filled the empty air. Your eyes rolled back at the lewd noises. “Mark, Mark,” you cried out his name, sensing you were only moments away from the edge.
Mark knew that you were close without asking and he was trailing right behind you by nearly nothing at all. His pace was vigorous, positively trying to fuck your brains out.
You only got closer and closer. His thrusts felt sharper and the pressure continued to build in your gut at a rate quicker than you could handle and far beyond your control. Any moment now, you would be at your breaking point.
“Don’t pull out,” you demanded, knowing he wasn’t far behind you. It was written all over his face.
Mark grunted at the mere thought of coming inside of you. Needless to say, he had dreamed of letting his release flood you. “Want me to fill you up?”
“Yes,” you moaned, craving him more than anything ever. “Please.”
Mark clamped his fingers around your throat, knowing it would bring you to finish quicker than anything else. “Let go for me, baby,” he said lustfully.
Just like that, you were convulsing with climax. As if he single-handedly controlled every muscle and nerve in your body. The room reeled as you came, voice as loud as it could be with his hand denying you the privilege of breath. Your nails dug harshly into the flesh of his back as your whole body shuddered uncontrollably with release.
You and Mark stared each other in the eyes as you both came. You watched his lips split in a grunt and his orgasm knocked the wind out of him, flaring down his spine. His fingers dug tighter around your throat and his cum filled you all at once. “Take it all,” he ordered, body coming to a halt. “Every last drop.”
Your body obeyed, still eagerly clinging around his cock. It was like you wanted to bleed each other dry. Him of all of his cum and you of your willpower.
Then, you slowly yet steadily both came to a stop. Mark took his precious time to pull out of you, but watched his seed trickle out of your sweet cunt with adoration. His grip around your neck slackened, and you both settled down to finally breathe for what felt like the first time ever.
It wasn’t like you to be so exhausted after a single round, but that night, you were completely spent. You cleaned up a little, then drifted into sleep within the comfort of Mark’s embrace.
Mark held your sleeping figure closely, taking all of your warmth and replacing it with his. I love you, he thought gently. And I’m sorry.
You fell asleep in Mark’s arms, and after a long night of dreaming about him in your sleep, woke up in them, too. And you had the biggest smile on your face when you realized that some time between when you fell asleep and when you woke up, Mark had removed your makeup.
You were beginning to love Mark so much that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.
Last night was mind-blowing. And not only that, it gave you an epiphany. You wanted Mark in your life. You wanted to wake up in his arms and feel his body on yours. You wanted to kiss him while cuddling beneath the moonlight. You wanted to take over the world with him.
But by doing so, you would have broken one of Bloodlust’s most important rules; disobeying direct orders. The cost? Your life.
All of the warmth of loving Mark you felt for him only moments ago suddenly dissipated into cold unadulterated fear.
You stared at his sleeping face and felt a tear slide down your face. I’m sorry.
Mark’s eyes fluttered open. He wiped your tears with his thumb and asked in his gruff morning voice, “Why are you crying?”
You smiled and shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you lied.
Though in reality, you were so overwhelmed. And borderline terrified. The last time you loved someone, they tried to violate you. Not to mention you knew the inner circle would never approve of your relationship with Mark.
If you didn’t kill him, then they would. And then you’d be next.
“Don’t lie to me,” Mark said. He could see that this whole predicament was doing a large number on you. Even the strongest soldiers had their weak points.
You sighed faintly. Then said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Mark’s hand found yours and squeezed it tightly. “Promise?”
“I promise.” You glanced at his neck, and failed to hide your grin of pride as you saw the pattern of marks you’d left there. Little traces of you flooded his whole body. As traces of him did yours. “Mm, did I do that?”
He shifted his glance down and snickered. “You did.”
You hummed. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”
“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”
You gasped in faux offense. Then, broke into a fit of giggles. The sight tugged at Mark’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips.
That smile was what made your heart beat. You brought your lips to Mark’s in a peck. Or three. Insatiably craving more, Mark held your face and kissed you even longer and harder.
One thing led to another. One second your lips were to his and the next he was lazily fucking you into pieces, moans echoing inside the room in between kisses and giggles.
You were so far gone that there was no redemption.
The weeks flew by at the speed of lightning and in no time at all, you were months deep into Mark. He gave you everything that the narcotics unit had on you thus far, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t much at all. They had most of the inner circle identified save for Jaemin (not surprisingly), but the relationships were either vague, inaccurate or a combination thereof.
The only reason Jaemin and Ten hadn’t cracked their unit open yet was because of the tight lock they had on all gang-related cases. And they kept their information on physical files. Granted, it was very scarce.
Begrudgingly, of course, you had to give Jisung credit there. Neither Mark or Jeno had caught a glimpse of those imported drugs before in their lives.
Given that you made no attempts to hide your affection, it was broadly known that there was a bond between both you and Mark. You played it off as baiting him; luring him into your trap in order to milk him for everything he knew. Your emotions were kept under wraps when he was the topic of discussion and you fought smiles whenever you heard someone say Mark’s name. They fell hook, line, and sinker.
“They had a hunch that you were Yuta’s girlfriend,” Mark had told you. Now that he was confidently aware that it wasn’t the case, he found it laughable. “I was supposed to use you to move in proximity with the inner circle. The best way to take down any organization is to remove the heart, but obviously I never got far.”
Apparently, their source of rationale were photographs of you and Yuta together discreetly taken. It was a lie you fed into, providing Mark fake intel to feed his dangerously nosy co-workers. As always, the less law enforcement knew, the better.
Your shoulders shook with laughter. “You used to be such a pain in the ass, y’know? I can’t believe you bugged me.”
Mark furrowed his brows. “Huh?”
“Didn’t you put a bug in my pocket?” you asked, arching your brows. “After the race. You know, when you hugged me?”
“My hands were on your back,” Mark reminded, confused. As were you. “That was probably Jeno. But he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. I never bugged you, baby - I genuinely just wanted a hug.”
You barked, “The hell is his problem with me? I mean, for an undercover cop he’s obvious as hell. Why send somebody with no prior experience to the danger zone?”
Mark shrugged. He had very little say on the matter. Not that he fought it, either. “They decided that he was ‘the second-most equipped.’ Verbatim.”
“I can’t imagine why. That night on the rooftop,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t think he trusts you.”
Mark laughed. That was to put it simply. “Yeah, me neither. I told him I was fooling around with you to gain your trust - and at first, I was. But not anymore.”
That went without saying. But you still retorted, “If you’re fucking with me, Mark, I’ll kill you.”
Mark snorted. “I’m sure.”
He wasn’t afraid of you. Like you were a puppy posing as a wolf waving your paws at him with puppy eyes. Mark, threatened by you? As if. You were his fucking baby.
Long nights of feeding Bloodlust intel on the narcotics unit, then coming home to Mark passed by. You’d eventually given him your address and permitted him to go inside. He quite liked your home. It looked and smelled like you. He never knew what to imagine when it came to the interior of your house, but upon seeing, it made perfect sense.
Pictures of you and your friends scattered around the house. None of you by yourself and none with your family. Little plants growing healthily. You mentioned that they were high-maintenance. Your favorite blankets in a heap on the sofa. And a bookshelf brimming with novels. Mark was pleasantly surprised to learn that you were a major bookworm. And a closeted romantic.
It was close to midnight when you heard someone behind you. Very swiftly, you were endeavoring to arrive safely to the garage where your car waited, though you knew that there was no chance of making it in one piece without confrontation. You turned a corner and patiently drew your gun; it wasn’t very often that you ventured into the night alone past sunset, but you damn sure made certain that your gun was tucked to yourself.
There was a familiar negative energy all around you. It was impossible to ignore - far too suffocating and too distinguishable to be neglected.
Not surprising in the slightest, it was Jeno who rounded the corner. With his usual scowl, and an aimed gun. 
Narrowing your eyes, you snapped, “What do you want?”
Jeno smiled. It was the first time you’d seen his lips form anything other than a crooked frown, but it still exuded that same level of cold grimness. “I think you know what I want.”
You studied Jeno for a moment. For someone who believed you were the second-in-command’s girlfriend, he showed you no fear, grip on his gun firm as he aimed it squarely at your chest. Apparently, you were a woman that was loyal to no one but herself in the eyes of the law. Which made you all the more unpredictable. “I know that you’re not who you say you are,” you began levelly, inching closer. “I know everything there is to know about you, Jeno.”
“Because Mark told you, right?” Jeno snarled. “I know a lot about you, too - like how you’ve been whoring yourself out to Mark because you know that he’s easy. He was ripe for the picking and that’s why they stuck me with him; because they knew he needed grounding.”
That made you bristle with anger, but you kept a lid over your temper and retorted, “That sounds like a nice little fairy tale. Is that what you’re going to tell the big boss?”
Ignoring you, Jeno continued, “The world will know the truth about you and this whole gang. You’re more than the bitch they pay to secretly do their bidding. Before you were Scar, you were a gang-hopper.”
Seething, you lunged at Jeno with the gun. He blocked the attack - courtesy of your blindness from the rage that ran down your spine - and cocked his gun at you.
And then there was a loud, piercing gunshot.
But you were never shot. Jeno’s grip on his gun slackened and fell to the ground with him. He lay there gaping, a hand over his stomach that bled profusely. And glancing not at you; behind you. When you turned around, Mark emerged from the corner around you and stepped out of the shadows to approach you.
“You should be more careful,” Mark chided. “What if it wasn’t me behind you?”
Though you wanted to smile, you couldn’t. There was a tormenting question on your brain. How does Jeno know about my past?
“Mark,” Jeno choked out, nearly coughing up blood. He raised his arm with all of his strength and pointed with a trembling finger. “Mark is…,”
Mark didn’t let him finish, cutting Jeno off with a bullet to the head. Whatever he was going to say died with him.
Rather than feeling relieved, you were unnerved. Mark killed Jeno to protect you. Love made people do crazy things - that you knew better than anyone else, but Mark seemed colder than you’d ever seen him before. He didn’t waver; unhesitating and unremorseful.
As if this wasn’t his first rodeo.
“You never mentioned telling the team about my past.”
Mark cast you a glance. “That’s because I didn’t.”
You narrowed your eyes and whispered, “Then, how did Jeno know?”
Mark caught onto what you were hinting at and his face swiftly softened. There was no way in hell that he would do anything to hurt you. And he needed you to know that. “I never said a word about your past to him, baby. I swear. I don’t know how he found out, but you need to know that I’d never air out any of your business.”
There were other possibilities, too. Your past wasn’t exactly private - that you knew. He could have contacted your old friends, or heard the gossip of the low-ranks. Any of those roads were open, but it meant more if Mark himself exposed you. That was unacceptable.
You blew out a sigh and reminded yourself that Mark had been in gangs before - he most likely had bodies. As always, you were just paranoid. You believed that everyone was out to get you because the people that were meant to embrace you released you into the cold.
Hiding your gun, you pulled Mark into your embrace and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mark murmured. “Just tell me that you trust me.”
“I trust you,” you told him. No reluctance, no shame. And I love you.
You knew that Mark loved you too. In your heart and bones. He had killed for you.
You called someone to discard Jeno's corpse and went home with Mark. The two of you talked and fell asleep by each other’s side. It was more or less a routine.
But when you woke up, Mark wasn’t there. You called out his name; no response. You looked inside the bathroom and he wasn’t there. The living room, kitchen, and all of his favorite spots inside your house were almost void of life.
Mark wasn’t there and it was downright laughable that that frightened you to your very core, but he never left without telling you. You scanned your memories of last night for any warning and ultimately came short.
It wasn’t the first time that you’d woken up alone, but more often than not, you woke up in each other’s arms. Occasionally, one of you would be in the bathroom or kitchen, but you never left the house without mentioning it the night before or leaving some form of text or note.
Though when you checked your phone, it was empty.
And so, you began to do the one thing you very seldom did; panic. There was no indication that Mark had been forced out of your house, but the depthless list of possibilities unnerved you. You prayed that he was somewhere safe. That at most, maybe he’d simply forgotten. You would have scolded him for getting you wound up over nothing, but at least he would be out of harm’s way.
There was a knock at your front door and hoping it was Mark, you rushed to open it, but you frowned when you were met with the face of a man that you’d never seen before.
The stranger said, “Hi. I’m Huang Renjun and I know you don’t know me, but you’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Right now.”
You blinked. Then, shut the door on him. It was too goddamn early for this foolishness.
Undeterred, Renjun opened the door again and welcomed himself inside. This town wasn’t big enough for two stubborn assholes.
You screeched, “The hell, man?”
Renjun exclaimed, “Do you want to die?”
“I literally do not know who the fuck you are!”
“Yes. I thought I made that very clear,” Renjun hissed, gritting his teeth. “But you do know Alexander Lee.”
In an instant, you were rendered gorgonized like a gargoyle. That name never failed to put you in a borderline unresponsive stupor. Anything regarding Alexander “Lex” Lee plagued your heart and body with crisp fear.
“I don’t want anything that has to do with Lex,” you replied, shaking your head and backing away.
This game of hide-and-seek had kept you on your toes for ages now. You’d spent the last years of your life off the grid to take cover from him and now this? Hell no.
Renjun briefly studied you. For someone rumored to have looked death in the face and blown him a kiss, it was not at all lost on him how terrified you’d suddenly become at the mere mention of Lex’s name. It was a warranted fear - the one that made you tick. “I’m sure. But if you don’t leave this place as soon as possible, he’s going to kill you.”
“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” you whispered, all the bite in your voice demolished by terror.
“Mark sent me.”
You blinked. “What?”
Renjun groaned, though didn’t elaborate. It was no mystery how you and Mark got along. For one, you were both a pain in ass and a thorn in his side. Instead, he drew his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. And put the phone on speaker.
“Do you have her?” came Mark’s voice.
Renjun said exasperatedly, “Let’s try ‘Hello, Renjun.’ Or ‘Hi.’ Most people say that when they pick up the phone, you know.”
“Mark,” you breathed, relieved to hear his voice. He was somewhere out there. But you were hurt that he left you.
Ignoring Renjun, Mark greeted, “Hi, doll.”
Renjun only wished he had time to argue. He would have burned your lover alive for greeting you instead of him, but the clock was ticking. He already had too many irons in the fire. “Hurry up and talk some sense into your girl, Mark. She doesn’t believe me.”
Your girl, he had said. Mark’s girl. For a split second, your heart brimmed with warmth.
Mark began from across the line, “Listen to me, baby. I know this is sudden and I’ll explain everything as soon as I get the chance, but you need to trust me and listen to Renjun. Okay?”
Your heart sank. “What’s going on?”
“No time to explain,” Mark told you curtly. “Just do this for me. Please.”
You blew out a sigh. This was too much too soon. Ultimately, you decided to trust Mark. “Okay.”
Mark blurted, “I love you.”
A pained smile curled your lips. “I love you more.”
“Alright, fun’s over,” Renjun interjected. He would not stick around for your lovey-dovey mess. Especially not when lives were on the line and in jeopardy. “We’ll talk to you later, Mark. You go get dressed and come on.”
Begrudgingly, you did as told, rushing upstairs to throw on an appropriate outfit before you headed back down and got inside a car with a man that you’d known for less than fifteen minutes.
As soon as you were on the road, you reminded yourself that you had no idea what was happening and where you were going, and asked, “Where are we going?”
Renjun replied, “Somewhere safe.”
Vague. You didn’t like that. “Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Do you work with Mark?”
“Not in the way that you think,” Renjun responded, patiently quickly evaporating into thin air.
You pressed, “Then, in what way?”
Gosh, you were aggravating. In his mind, Renjun was likening you to a child that persistently asked their parents, ‘Are we there yet?’ during long road trips. “Jesus, woman! Would you stop badgering me?”
You narrowed your eyes and faced the window so that you wouldn’t lunge at him. “I just want to know what’s going on. You mention Lex Lee - the man that’s been indirectly making my life hell for the last years of my life - and expect me to not have questions?”
You had him there. Alexander was the devil himself and anyone that had known him for five minutes could most likely back you up. His goons were lightly compensated and offered little leeway, and the worst part was the hierarchy system.
Everyone was inferior to someone save for Lex, and the designated high-ranks were equally crooked. They schemed to get away with stepping out of line directly under his nose, often pinning the blame on low-ranking members to avoid lethal retribution.
That was why you were scared shitless to return that day. Lex and your ex-boyfriend were like brothers. It didn’t matter what you told him happened to you - you’d be lucky if he cared. Let alone believed you.
Renjun heaved a breath. You had a very fair argument. “Lex is looking for you. He’s attacked Bloodlust’s headquarters. That’s why Mark wants me to keep you safe.”
“What?” you shrieked in terror. “I have to go back there!”
Renjun turned onto another street and shook his head, eyeing the roads for Lex’s hounds. “It’s not safe. Do you hear me? It’s not safe. You were scared shitless of anything involving Lex three seconds ago.”
“I don’t care,” you hissed. “This is my battle. I’ll be damned if I let anyone else fight it for me. Yuta saved my life - now it’s my turn.”
Renjun balked, “No, it’s not. I know about Bloodlust. They protect you as long as you do their bidding. So let them do their goddamn job.”
Gritting your teeth, you crossed your arms and stared out the window, watching buildings and signs whirl by in a blur. It was clear that Renjun would not be wooed by you, but you refused to sit and do nothing. Especially when his connection - or Mark’s - to Lex was unknown. There had to be another way.
Recognizing the road you turned onto, you had an idea. It was reckless and extremely dangerous, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. Not when the better half of your life consisted of making life-threatening choices. There was the option to take the hard way or the easy way out.
And you’d be damned if you took the easy way.
Calculating, you counted down the seconds in your head until you could make your move. The moment you were down to one, you moved at the speed of light and swung the car door open, launching yourself out and rolling into an area of enclosed grass.
You grabbed your gun from your purse and aimed squarely at Renjun’s tires, sending him swerving somewhere. He screamed in the distance, “You sick psychopathic bitch!”
I’ve heard that before, too, you thought to yourself with levity. And then, like your life depended on it, you bolted.
Dusting away dirt and twigs, you sprinted and sprinted and sprinted. The street was close to the garages. Obviously, your car wasn’t there, but there were plenty that were.
You bust through the garage and scanned each of the open slots for your unlucky victim. There were several people, most polishing up their cars before tonight’s race. And you swiftly made your pick, not having time to linger.
You snatched one of the racer’s keys and asked breathlessly, “Can I borrow these? Thanks, you’re the best!”
Screams of protest were your less than pleased response, but you had already made a distance on the garage by the time anyone thought to react. The moment you were on a road, you let out a thick, heavy breath.
Forget crazy. You were out of your goddamn mind.
You sped as fast as you could without going over the limit, given you had already committed two crimes in broad daylight. The last thing you needed was a high-speed police chase.
The east side of the headquarters was the closest and you drove like the devil. The closer you neared, the faster your heart echoed in your chest. You hoped Mark wasn’t there, but with his knowledge of Lex, you had aching questions numb you to your love. And you prayed your boss decided to take an off day.
Alas, the building was - metaphorically speaking - ablaze when you arrived there. A grating dissonance of screams and gunshots filled the distant air. Lex had called war on Bloodlust via this ambush, but not knowing who was winning completely unnerved you. 
You got out of the car and approached the building through the rear side. Conveniently, there were emergency exits installed in scatters around the headquarters designed for similar occasions. Discreetly, you entered through one, and steered clear of the noise as you stealthily made your way upstairs. It was in your best interest to remain undetected. For all they knew, you weren’t here. 
Creeping around corners, you held your breath. As if the slightest sound would have you killed on the spot. The loud halls that echoed with gunshots terrified you, but the eerily silent ones were too quiet to be relieving. 
Whirling around the corner, you parted your lips to scream when you bumped into someone, and they clamped their palm over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” Jisung growled, looking both ways like a civilian crossing the street. When he deemed the close clear, he released you. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Heaving, you asked, “Have you seen Yuta or Mark?” 
Jisung answered you with complete disinterest and disdain, and said, “Yuta’s been unresponsive. As for loverboy, he’s the reason you’re in this mess.” 
You realized that you’d blown your cover the second you mentioned Mark, but you didn’t care. For the sake of your heart and mind, you needed to trust and believe that he was safe. You wouldn’t know how to go on without him. How to unlearn everything you’d gotten so accustomed to in his presence. 
“What do you mean, unresponsive?” you repeated, lost for words. “And the reason? What the hell are you talking about?” 
Jisung pinched his nose and shook his head. “Forget it. Figure that shit out yourself.” 
He turned around and walked away, Part of you was tempted to scream after him, though the sight of a man emerging from the shadows behind Jisung  - armed with murder on his mind - silenced you. For some reason, everything in your body told you to pick up your gun and shoot. You complied, and shot fire. 
Jisung whirled back around in time to watch the man hit the ground, gone without knowing what hit him. He rooted to the spot, gaze rising to your figure and noticing the gun in your grasp. “Did you just…”
“Save your life?” you finished. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”
Jisung blew out a sigh. He was many things, including your mortal enemy, but he had a moral compass and in that moment he owed you his life. He glanced around once more, then told you, “Mark is a member of The Basilisks.”
You wanted to laugh. “What?”
Jisung made his tone as menacing as possible and added, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But your loverboy isn’t who you think he is. Jaemin followed up on him today. Mark’s cousin is Alexander Lee and he’s been in that gang since a little after you started working for Yuta.”
Your heart sank. You wanted to deny it with everything you had, but it made sense. How else would Mark know Lex? He even mentioned that his cousin made a gang. Stupid, you told yourself. You’re so fucking stupid. 
God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole. You wanted to isolate yourself from the rest of the world and rot to bones. Mark had gotten under your skin, reduced you to your true, bare self. He had seen all of the good and bad; the beautiful and ugly. You felt comfortable enough to be more vulnerable with him than you ever had anyone else. Was all of that in vain?  
The Basilisk Biker’s. It hurt so goddamn much. You felt so used and betrayed. And empty. Like you had poured your mind, body, heart and soul into loving Mark and had nothing left to spare. 
Maybe you did. 
Jisung saw the sadness in your eyes and felt a pang of something he had never felt for you before. It didn’t feel right. Your eyes always gleamed with fire, but your flame was demolished. He wanted to hug you, but it wasn’t his embrace that you needed at the moment. He doubted you would want it in the first place. 
Instead, he said, “You have to get out of here.”
“I have to find Yuta,” you argued, gritting your teeth. 
“What if he’s safe?”
Without missing a beat, you shot, “What if he’s not?” 
Jisung had argued with you enough in his lifetime to know that you were headstrong and demanded your way. If you wanted something enough, there was absolutely nothing on this earth that could stop you from chasing it. But he also knew that the moment something happened to you once he left you alone, your blood would be on his hands. “I’m going with you.”
You shrugged and replied,  “Suit yourself.” Then, began to make your way up the stairs. The elevators were too risky. 
You fought tears and focused yourself on your boss. You’d be damned if you cried while anyone was watching. You had taken a bullet tougher than this. Toughen up, you hissed inwardly. 
The long staircase had made you realize just how large the headquarters was. In your head, you had always thought of it as a second home. Now, it was being destroyed by your first one. 
When you reached the floor of Yuta’s office, you stepped onto the ground, peeking around and spotting Basilisks. Jisung whispered, “I’ll distract them. You go check his office.” 
You nodded. Jisung did exactly what he said that he would, and you set out for Yuta’s office. Just from standing outside the door, you could tell that it was empty. But you needed to see for yourself. You counted down from three, attempting to soothe your rapidly moving mind, and barged inside. 
The sight unnerved you. Yuta was nowhere to be found, but the room was completely wrecked. Like he was blitzed and fought like hell against his attacker. 
There was little trace of him. No sign of where he was or where he’d gone. Not even traces of blood. Just his belongings toppled over in a heap and his window completely open, curtains blustering. 
“Find something interesting here?”
Fear riveted you in place. You took your time to turn around, met face to face with a man straight out of a nightmare. 
“Lex,” you exhaled thickly, the wind knocked out of you.
Lex smiled wickedly. There was a gun in his hand. “Long time no see, old friend.”
You shook your head viciously and screamed, “Where the hell is my boss?” 
Lex inched closer, closing in on you as if he was going to make you walk off of a plank. You took steps backwards, colliding with Yuta’s desk. “Well, I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that?”
“You son of a bitch,” you hissed.
As if he didn’t hear you, Lex continued, “It wounded me real bad when you left, y’know. Word on the street is that this Yuta fool had you sold in less than a day. Then, I find out you killed Riley,” Lex laughed. “Whew, I was livid!”
“You were going to kill me,” you said, moving around the desk as swiftly as possible. You never wanted to leave. There were people in that gang that you considered family and you missed them everyday of your life. You never wanted to leave them behind. 
“Damn right, I was!” Lex shouted. He didn’t sound angry - he sounded insane. That was arguably worse. “With my bare goddamn hands!”
You shook your head, fighting to remain calm. Lex’s weakness was his anger, but so was yours. If you stayed rational, you had a fighting chance at survival. “I didn’t want to kill Riley. You have to trust me on that, Lex. He was trying to push me into things I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t have a choice.” 
Pretending to care, Lex crooned, “You have a choice now. Come back home. Let’s be a family again. The girls missed you the worst.” 
Or else what? You knew your other unspoken choice was gruesome as they always had been, but you also knew that Lex was full of shit. There was no way in hell that he would let you off that easily. 
Or alive, for that matter. 
You knew what your options were, because you knew Alexander Lee better than anyone else alive. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A narcissist if you knew one, blind to his flaws. He was manipulative and deceptive, but worst of all, he had not a shred of mercy. 
If anyone was going to take your life from you, it wouldn’t be Lex. You refused to grant him that pleasure. And you knew very well that the only reason you were still alive and breathing was because he wanted to kill you with his own bare hands. Nobody would be given the satisfaction of taking your life if not you.
You shook your head and swore, “Over my dead body.” 
Then, you leapt out of the window.
And crash landed onto the balcony on the floor below you. You struck the deep trenches of your memory, reminding yourself that Yuta once mentioned that he refused to get a balcony like the rest of the members. He claimed that in times of crisis, he wouldn’t regret his decision. And you chose to believe that that was how he escaped. It was a graceless fall. It hurt like a bitch, but what mattered was that you were still alive. Somehow. 
You raced through the floor in case Lex was crazy enough to follow you. 
You ran and you ran and you ran for your life. Your legs ached from all of the reckless stunts you’d pulled today, but you never stopped running. The thoughts seeped into your mind, going miles per minute, trying to outmatch the speed of your feet. You thought of your family and felt pain. You thought of Lex and felt fear. You thought of your old friends and felt regret. You thought of Yuta and felt dread. You thought of Mark and felt stone-cold betrayal.
But you also felt love. Your heart hammered like it was trying to wreck its way through your chest. You wanted some kind of explanation for this, one that would make all of the pain fade, but you knew that there was none. 
How could Mark tell you that he loved you but work aside the same man that made your life a living hell? Your heart was crying blood. It bled and beat for him all at once. 
Adrenaline made you numb to the pain of everything except for your wounded heart. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe there was someone else that would be granted the satisfaction of taking your life. Giving Mark the key to your heart was like handing him a gun and telling him to shoot. Your heart begged for the one person that you were forbidden to have. 
Speak of the devil, they say. And he shall appear. 
Somewhere in the run for your life, you bumped directly into Mark. He looked relieved and displeased to see you all at once. 
Mark grabbed you and whispered, “Baby…”
You swatted his hands away and cried, “Don’t call me that!” 
Mark reached for your hand, squeezing tightly. There was no levity in his tone when he said, “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I swear on my life. You just need to trust me.”
“No,” you shouted, fighting like hell to keep your tears at bay. They stung your eyes, but he didn’t deserve to see them fall. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time and expect me to trust you? That’s not how that works, Mark.” 
“I know,” Mark agreed. “And you have every right to be pissed at me for what I’m about to do.” 
Before you had the chance to ask questions, Mark pulled you to his chest and clamped his palm over your mouth, then shouted, “Over here - I’ve got her!” 
Basilisks began to fill your vision. They circled you like a shark to its prey, guns aimed. You noticed familiar faces around you, and you couldn’t blame them for any vengeful feelings they felt for you. Mark shoved you in the middle by yourself, like he was presenting his artwork to them, proud of his product. 
Lex spoke to Mark, but you tuned in and out, their words being reduced to white noise. You felt so much pain and fear that your body began to numb your senses in self-preservation. It was too much to bear. 
This is it, you thought somberly. This is my end. Part of you was satisfied with that. You were so tired. You had worked your whole life and experienced loss to loss with no breaks in between. No breathing room. If you weren’t a sinner, you would have believed that you would finally meet your mother. 
Then again, depending on who you asked, she was a sinner too. 
“Thought you could run from me,” Lex taunted, clearly amused. “I thought you would have learned by now. No one escapes me. No one escapes their fate.” 
He was right. After all, you had nowhere to run this time. Not with over a dozen guns pointed squarely at your head.
All you wanted was for him to make this quick. To put you out of your misery already. Add one more scar to your body in completion. 
Lex tilted his head. “Any last words?”
Without hesitation, you spat, “Fuck you.” 
Lex burst into laughter. Then, much to your surprise, said, “Mark, finish her.”
You stayed still and held your breath, knowing this was the inevitable end. But you couldn’t look at Mark. It would hurt you too much.
Then, The Basilisks switched on a dime and aimed their guns at Lex - including Mark. Stupidly, you stood there blinking. Lisa - one of your old friends - had to pull you out of harm’s way. She whispered, “You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay now.” 
Too stunned to speak, you stood gawking. 
Lex blurted, “What the hell do you all think you’re doing?” 
“This has to end, Alexander. And it ends with you,” Mark began, casting his cousin an unsympathetic glance. “For the past decade, you’ve been making everyone here's life a living hell. How much longer did you think we were going to put up with that bullshit?” 
Lex began to stumble backwards, reaching for escape, but one of the Basilisks named Yangyang pushed him back into the circle, then said,  “Woah, woah, woah - where do you think you’re going, big guy?” 
Realizing he was cornered, Lex turned to stare at his cousin in disbelief. “Really? Your own flesh and blood, Mark?” 
Mark let out a remorseless chuckle. “Don’t pretend to have a moral compass now. Here’s the thing, Lex. Everyone here considers each other family and you’ve fucked every last one of us over. You don’t give a flying fuck about blood and flesh; all you care about is power. You like that you can kill whoever - whenever - and our fate lies in your hands.”
“It used to,” Yangyang corrected from the sidelines. “Now, the tables have turned. You get to feel what’s like to be on the other side of torture.” 
Another Basilisk - Seulgi - spoke up from the crowd, voice dripping with the bite of venom, “You pay us less than we’re worth to do your bidding and you let those sons of bitches get away with framing us - but impose the death rule so that we can’t leave. We’re fed the hell up, Lex.”
The death rule was simply that. Nobody was allowed to leave. Your only escape was the dark void of death. It was more or less a pre-prison for gangsters. 
Unless, you ran away. In Basilisk history, you were the only successful runaway. 
You simply watched in amusement, feeling a wound in you healed. Never in a million years would you have imagined a dream like this come true. It was better than anything you’d ever hoped for. It’s over. 
“I don’t do last words,” Mark mocked, cocking his gun. “Goodbye, cousin.” 
The sound of a gunshot resonated throughout the hall, and Alexander dropped to the floor in vanquish. 
“It really is over,” Lisa repeated. Until then, you hadn’t realized that you’d said those words aloud. You were out of your body. 
You grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here?”
Lisa cocked a brow. “What about lover boy?” 
You gaped. “You know?”
“Oh, please. Mark tells us a lot about you. He acts like we’ve never met you before. It’s hard to get him to shut up sometimes,” Lisa scoffed. 
Mark talks about me. That made your heart swell with emotion, but you pushed them aside. “I’m still mad at him. Let’s go before he makes me change my mind.” 
Giggling, Lisa told you, “Lead the way.” 
You did as told, leading her outside. For now, you pushed your worries away. They would return, but you were simply glad to connect with an old friend for the meantime. A very special one at that. 
Hand in hand, you brought Lisa to one of the balconies. The wind whipped through her hair as you both faced the city. The memories were a mixture of pained and blissful. They stung your heart, yet filled you with impalpable joy. 
After a moment of silence, Lisa whispered, “You never said goodbye.” 
“I know.” 
She whirled around to face you, a pained expression on her face. “That hurt.” 
“I know,” you said, frowning. “And I’m sorry.” 
Lisa faced the early morning city again. Like looking at you would be her breaking point. “You did what you had to do. I can’t hold that against you. I was just scared that you’d forget me.” 
You called her name austerely and slightly rolled up your shirt, then spoke like you were delivering a speech, “I carry a piece of you with me everyday. Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you. Pain is temporary, but this scar is forever. It is a constant reminder of you and what our friendship means to me. I can’t forget that.” 
Lisa gazed at your scar fondly. She remembered how you got it like it was yesterday. You jumped in front of a bullet to save her life. You were so goddamn stupid, but damn did she love you for it. 
She pulled you into a hug. And you smiled.
“I moved on,” Lisa mentioned once she pulled away. “I found someone.”
Your eyes widened, your smile broadened. “Who is she?”
Lisa smiled involuntarily at the thought of her mystery woman. Once upon a time, she smiled at you like that. “Jennie.”
“No way,” you said, jaw dropping. 
“Yes, way,” Lisa smirked. “Love always finds a way. Sometimes the one meant for you is the person you’d least expect. It’s ironic, isn't it?”
You groaned, “You’re telling me.”
Lisa studied you. Never in a million years would she have imagined that the two of you would be having a conversation like this, but she was content to hear your voice again. At one point, she thought she’d lost you forever. “You love him.” 
It was clear who ‘him’ was. You sighed out, “I do. So much. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Lisa snickered, but suddenly became stern and said, “Mark didn’t do any of this to hurt you. He would never. He was scared half to death when Renjun called and said you’d jumped out of a car to come here. As crazy as that sounds, I’m not surprised. You’re full of crazy.” 
You laughed lightheartedly. “I’ve done worse.”
“I know. Like, jumped in front of a bullet,” Lisa retorted, then continued. “Listen, that boy is head over heels in love with you. I would know. What he did back there wasn’t a part of the initial plan, but he’s in control of this whole scheme and we urged him to do what he thought was best. He knew you would hate him for this, but he wanted to protect you from Lex for good.” 
The tears were coming back and you blinked them away. “Really?”
“It was hard to keep him from socking Lex in the jaw for talking down on you sometimes. He was ready to risk it all for you. That’s how much he loves you. Don’t punish him for that,” Lisa said, smiling ruefully. Then, she presented you with some levity. “Not for too long.”
You laughed like the two old friends you were. You never forgot what those days were like. To be together with people you considered family, you were happy. And now you were no longer forbidden to see each other.
Lisa patted your back. “Go get him.”
“Right now?” you asked, gaping in disbelief. 
“Right now,” she repeated, memories of a morose Mark returning. “Any longer and I think he’ll fling himself off one of these balconies.”
“Oh, brother,” you sighed. “Will you be okay?”
“As long as you don’t leave me for another six years.” 
You smiled and held out your pinky finger for her to intertwine with hers. “I won’t. I promise.” 
Lisa locked pinkies with you. Then, she let you go for the second time and set you free. 
You found Mark somberly glancing into the distance. His mood seemed to instantly lighten when the sound of you slumping beside him steered him from his reverie.
“Hi.”
Mark rubbed his neck. “Hey.” 
“I’m sorry,” you told him apologetically. “I should have trusted you.”
Mark blurted, “What? No. I’m the one that should be sorry. I’ve been keeping secrets from you this whole time. I should have told you.” 
“You’re right,” you replied. You switched on a dime, beginning to knock at his chest fiercely. “What were you thinking?”
He was hardly thinking. It was difficult - he couldn’t function knowing that your life was on the line. You being there meant he had to change his plans entirely because he refused to let anything happen to you. His heart was screaming when Renjun told him about the stunt you’d pulled. Above all else, all he wanted was for you to let him protect you. “I’m sorry, doll. Will a kiss make it better?” 
You paused. Then, sang, “Not sure. Kiss me and find out.”
Mark shook his head in delight. “With pleasure.”
Mark enveloped your lips in a kiss. He kissed you like he’d never get the chance again. As if this was his last day to love and hold you, but also as if he hadn’t felt your touch in years. It was so indescribably passionate. The only way you could explain was that it felt like love. Until you met Mark, you thought that you’d been cursed with the inability to fall for someone else again.
When you’d both had your fill, you pulled away for good and asked, “But I am curious - you’re a cop and a gang member at the same time?”
Mark had been waiting for that one. He cradled you in his arms and replied smoothly, “My job in the gang is to be their eyes in law enforcement. Alongside the biking, we became heavily involved in drug trafficking. It’s my job to steer the police off course and ensure they don’t go looking into The Basilisks.” 
“And that’s how you got here,” you added, the pieces coming together to form one big picture.
“Yup. I was assigned to look into Bloodlust. It’s no secret that this is where you hid and Lex wanted me to use this case to lure you out. At first, I intended to follow orders. But then I fell for you, baby. And I knew that only over my dead body would I let anything happen to you.”
“Romantic,” you purred. Then, you remembered something and your eyes filled with worry. “Have you seen Yuta?”
“He’s fine,” Mark assured. “They all are. They know this building well. That’s their advantage.”
You blew out a sigh of semi-relief. ”We have to come clean.”
Mark blinked. “Now?” 
“Now or never.” 
Mark slipped his fingers through yours and brought you to your feet. “Okay. Let’s tell them.”
You smiled. You didn’t want to hide Mark anymore. You wanted to profess your love for him from the rooftops. And you knew in your heart that he wanted to do the very same. 
That was how you found yourself in Taeyong’s much larger office. Yet again, he stood alongside Yuta and Ten. It was a little frightening, but you wouldn’t let them unnerve you. You were bold in your love.
Lightheartedly, Yuta tried to lighten the mood with levity, “This is the infamous Markie.”
Mark shook his hand. “Dom Toretto.”
You cleared your throat. “Don’t mind him - he watches a lot of movies.” 
Taeyong cut to the chase. “You disobeyed direct orders.” 
You stiffened, knowing he was talking directly to you. You met his gaze and didn’t falter. “Yes.”
“And you were aware that you were disobeying direct orders - and of the punishment that shall follow.”
“That is correct.”
Taeyong arched his brow, amused by your boldness. It took guts to disobey the king of the empire. He sat and reclined in his seat and told you sternly, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you right now.” 
The gun resting patiently on his desk did not go unnoticed by you, but you dug into your heels and held Mark’s arm firmly. You were honest. “I have none. I’ve disobeyed and deceived you while aware of the consequences. I apologize for that, but I won’t apologize for loving him and I won’t let you kill him without killing me first.” 
Ten heaved a breath and took off his glasses, massaging his temple. Then, Yuta leapt up and shouted, “Yes! Run me my money!”
You blinked, only able to watch as Taeyong and Ten exasperatedly drew money from their pockets. Then, it hit you and you shrieked, “You bet money on me?”
“Damn right I did,” Yuta replied, not sparing you a glance as he counted his money. 
Noticing the ridiculously perplexed looks on you and Mark’s faces, Ten explained, “Yuta’s had a sneaking suspicion that you were lying about the severity of your relationship with Mark. Jisung tried to tell us, but Taeyong and I thought he was biased because of how much you argue. Clearly not.” 
Taeyong deadpanned, “Remind me not to make any more deals with either of you where money is concerned.” 
Mark pulled you to his chest, smiling. Some things you just couldn’t hide. His love for you was one of them. “So, we’re off the hook?” 
“I usually don't hesitate to punish people for defiance, but I’ll make an exception just this once,” Taeyong replied, smiling wryly. “I take it that your cousin’s gang is in your hands now. Don’t cause any trouble and you’re fine in my book.”
Mark nodded. He glanced down at you and knew that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Deal.” 
That night, you and Mark danced in each other's arms, refusing to let go. It was like nothing could come in between you. You knew now that your love was worth the battle and the war. Love always finds a way, a dear friend had told you. 
You asked over the music, “Wanna do something really crazy?” 
Mark looked at you, eye’s screaming, “Yes!” He would do anything for you - give you the world if you wanted it. Instead of borderline professing his love for you and telling you things that you already knew, he asked, “Like what?” 
“Let’s go to Vegas.”
Mark chortled. “That is kinda crazy.”
You argued, “Think about it - no one knows us there. It’ll just be me and you in a city full of people. Doesn’t that sound romantic?” 
Mark hushed you and said, “Baby, please. I was already buying the plane tickets.”
You snickered. You knew you had Mark right where you wanted him. And it felt so goddamn good. 
You and Mark stumbled out of the tattoo parlor. Given the long flight, you were utterly spent when you arrived, but the second you recharged you knew exactly what you wanted to do.
Get matching tattoos. 
Initially, you thought it would have been difficult to convince Mark to get a tattoo with you. After all, they were permanent. But he was surprisingly willing and pleased with the results. 
“To a lifetime and a half with you,” Mark told you, mounting the bike you’d left at the curbside of the parlor. You wanted to see how well he could drive one. 
Grabbing the pink helmet he handed you, you beamed. Happiness made your heart beat and your blood circulate. “To a lifetime and a half with my Markie pooh,” you teased. 
Mark rolled his eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight.” 
You yelped when the motorbike jerked to life beneath you, and then you were soaring down the roads of Las Vegas, carefree and in love. Nobody could tell you anything when you were with the love of your life.
Love was the greatest weapon of all. 
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tragedy-of-commons · 7 months
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no pickles
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stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750
In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.
tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic
notes: oops updated formatting
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When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.
Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.
You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 
“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.
“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.
“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”
“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.
Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”
You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.
Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.
Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.
“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.
You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”
“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.
You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”
Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”
“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.
You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.
“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”
“Wai–”
You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 
Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”
All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 
Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.
The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”
When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.
“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”
“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.
Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.
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sparreaux · 7 months
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Stop the Eviction!
As most of my followers know, my spouse and I (both disabled and living on a single income) have been fighting to stay in our rental home for months now. This started when our landlord decided to start using a local property management company who decided all back rent needed to be paid or we needed to leave. (Honestly, that part is fair as we owed quite a bit.)
This was, quite unfortunately, a few days after I had had a harrowing accident where I fell very hard and received a concussion, which has only added to our stress as it affected both my health physically and mentally as well as costing my short term memory. (I still cannot remember that night or the next week clearly) I have been struggling with managing my symptoms since.
We have striven to get the company their money at a detriment to our utilities and food bills, but we have been fortunate to receive so much help and support.
For the past several months, it's only gotten worse. The company had a court date we were never notified of (which had us judged as no shows so the company was free to break any repayment contract we had signed), added fees such as a pet deposit we paid when we moved into this house almost six years ago, legal fees for said court date, late fees that were never discussed before, extra fees from who knows where and basically have just been monthly harassing us with ten day eviction notices and even threatened us with the sheriff. Also they're claiming we didn't pay them on a certain month. Every time we thought we were on track, they'd pull something else. They've been rude and quite frankly, I would love to move to a different house if that was at all an option, but it's honestly not.
I had set up a gofundme, but since we've been paying everything we've got to back rent, our phones have been shut off for the time being and I am completely unable to log in to update or anything.
The management's company's ledger for us currently sits at $2,275.00. They are asking for at least $1000 before the end of the month, after we've already paid our monthly rent plus some. We have people that we can talk to on Monday, but unfortunately, nothing else until then.
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I am also very, very behind on commissions. There are several that are almost finished, but my fibromyalgia has been badly flaring, making it extremely difficult to put out the results I want. That being said, if you do not mind waiting a few months, I will happily add you to my art commission list for whatever you'd like to donate to help us.
Tl;dR: Two disabled people with pets are trying not to be evicted. Will draw for donations.
Thank you so much for current and past support. I promise I am trying to get back to everyone who has helped, it is just taking time, more time than I expected. I am sorry and again, thank you.
0/$2275
C*shapp, P*ypal, V*nmo: duessa
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lesbianashleywilliams · 9 months
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So those of you who have been following me may have noticed that I all but disappeared for about three months...well, that's because I've been planning to go to Japanese language school, and the wheels have really begun to start turning!!!!!!
I have been given the opportunity of my lifetime to be able to attend a Japanese language course at the International Study Institute in Tokyo's Shinjuku Ward. The course runs for a year, with the opportunity to extend it to two years, if my grades and money are sound [insert sound of children cheering here].
Being able to study Japanese locally and long-term has been a life goal of mine since I was fourteen. Though I'll probably never be able to fulfill my teenage dream of being an interpreter/translator for expats, this feels like the next best thing. Due to suffering from several comorbid chronic conditions that have majorly altered my life, most notably the beast known as systemic lupus erythematosus, I will probably never be able to seize another chance like this ever again. I won't be going in as a total novice, as I was able to take a year's worth of 1000-level Japanese language courses in college…before I had to drop out…… Since then I've been self-studying and using language exchange apps for practice, but nothing will beat the experience of using it in the day-to-day.
At this point in time (January 2024), my first six months of tuition have already been paid for. I am currently in a quiet waiting period while I wait to get to the next steps of the Certificate of Eligibility/Student Visa process. Before that, though, I need to secure my flight and housing. For the sake of my health, safety, privacy and comfort, a sharehouse will not be an option; I will have to seek a private apartment. I am here today to request assistance with the aforementioned flight and initial housing costs. It's still too early to commit to either of those, but:
The average cost of flexible one-way flights from where I am to either of the two Tokyo metro airports (Haneda and Narita) is running around $1200
I am doing some preliminary apartment scouting and am hoping not to exceed $800 per month (I will be traveling with suitcases and will need to properly store them). The apartments I am looking at do not require a security deposit or key money, but will probably come with a guarantor fee.
Now because I'm not going over there through one of the more common avenues - through a university or a job - I have to do it myself. Real life has meant that I've had to dig into my bank balance a bit, and after paying for the first six months I'm a little under the 2 million yen (~$14k) threshold that Immigration likes to see for a year's study. I'm lucky enough in that I will at least have a regular source of (unearned) income, as well as a financial sponsor; it's just the bank balance, flight, and accommodation that are hanging me up. Right now I am setting the initial goal at $3000, but I expect to move those goalposts at least once. Any extra will go towards a flight home for the Christmas holidays in December. After that, it'll go towards paying down my credit cards as much as I can prior to leaving the United States.
I can provide my conditional letter of acceptance from ISI, as well as the school invoice and receipt of the bank transfer for the first six months of tuition upon request (identifying information redacted, of course).
Because there's still a couple of months until I'm set to fly out I put together a GoFundMe (now that's a name I haven't used in a while) to idly collect whatever help I can. At the very least I just need this post to circulate enough to eventually cast a wider net outside of Tungle.hell.
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If you can't use GFM, V3nmo and P4ypal are also options:
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justastraymoa · 19 days
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ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 10
Im lost. Hopelessly lost with a cat in a bag on my shoulder looking at me like I am the dumbest person on the planet. And honestly, I feel like I am right now.
How do I go out for a simple walk around the neighborhood with my cat and get lost for hours. And my phone is dying on top of it all!
There is no way I could call the boys. I would never live it down. And I mean never. Plus how were they supposed to help me if I didn’t even know where I was? I couldn’t even find a street sign to give me a hint of where I was.
And im tired, hungry, have no more water, and didn’t bring any money because it was supposed to be a short walk. Only I could get myself into situations like this.
If I use my phone to get a map up, I will kill the battery and I didn’t think to pull a map up earlier when I had more battery, because why would I do that? Why would I be smart enough to do that?
Honestly when I get back to the apartment, I am just never going to leave it again. It wasn’t worth it and I am apparently too dumb to go out on my own anyways. Maybe I could flag down a police officer or something if I see one. They may be able to at least put me in the right direction if they wouldn’t give me a courtesy ride because of Cheese.
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When I finally saw the boys, it was almost completely dark. The streetlights were already on and no one was walking around anymore. I was so relieved I felt my stupid eyes start to stupidly tear up. Stupid.
Binnie walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my head so I could hide my face in his chest while the emotions passed. I held onto him tightly. Someone tugged Cheese away from me at some point, most likely Lino. And there were several rubs and pats as we stood there.
“Lets get your dumb ass home.” Lino sighed. I just nodded, thankful yet again for all 4 of them. And for the terrible circumstances that lead me to meeting and befriending them in the first place.
Once at home I was deposited directly into a chair and a large glass of ice water was placed in front of me. I drank a few gulps before forcing myself to slow down so I didn’t get sick. That would be the perfect end to this perfect night. Praying over the porcelain bowl because I drank too much water too fast.
I was lucky enough to work from home most of the time. The occasional meeting forced me to go in and work trips, but 90% of the time I spent working from my bedroom or the living room couch or the dining table. Kind of wherever I felt like sitting and a lot of the times I sat at all places throughout the day, just for a change of scenery.
The boys worked from home occasionally, when they could. I always knew when one of them was home because Cheese would abandon me for someone else. Always excited to have someone new to cuddle and bug all day. Also, he knew the boys would give him treats. I was the strict parent in this relationship. But he was still a mama’s boy at heart, so I was okay with it.
Today it was Bin who was working from home. From the dining table by the sounds of it. I could hear him talking to both himself and Cheese. And could also hear the occasional thump of something falling as Cheese was a turd because Bin wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Spoiled child that he is.
I stayed at my desk, both relieved to not be bothered and distracted by Cheese and lonely because Cheese was not here cuddling and distracting me. It was an odd combination. I would probably join Bin at the dining table later just to not feel so lonely. However, for now I had 30 emails on a crisis that popped up overnight that needed attending to.
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I laughed out loud as I heard Bin go into Linos room and start to look around for the sling bag. He must be desperate enough to risk Linos wrath.
“I can lend you my makeshift sling. It works just fine!” I called.
“He cant just gatekeep all the good stuff and expect to get away with it! It’s the principle of the thing!” He called back. There was a crash as something was knocked over.
“He is going to kill you for going through his stuff!”
“He wouldn’t.”
I raised my eyebrows and waited for that to sink into Bins head.
“You will save me right. He is a softie for you.” I eventually heard him say.
I scoffed doubtful that Lino was a ‘softie’ for anyone. Except maybe his cats. He was soft for them. Humans though, me included, he was not soft for. “I will try.” I promised nothing more.
Later that night, hours after everyone had gone to bed for the night, there was a high pitched scream that tore me from my peace.
On instinct I ran from the room. Bins door was open and I could see Lino standing over his bed with a very creepy, very psychotic smile on his face in the dark room. The only light source from the hallway nightlight.
(A/N: I picture something like this look)
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“I see you went into my room.” Lino stated lowly, face not losing an inch of psychotic.
My body sagged as I realized what had happened. Lino was getting his revenge. In a very Lino way.
“Im sorry.” Bin said lowly.
Beside me Chan laughed quietly. “He spent all evening trying to figure out how to get back at him for tearing the room apart.”
Hyune didn’t even look like he woke up, let alone looked to see why Bin had screamed like a little girl in the middle of the night.
I rolled my eyes and went back to bed, pulling Cheese closer to rub my face on his soft fur and hear his purring as I drifted off.
A/N: And here we are with part 10. Honestly every time I do another one of these I have so much fun but I also wonder how the heck this even happened. How the heck did I turn a bunch of random pinterest cats into Cheese and create a whole ass cat. And all because I love black cats and have had several of my own that vie for the braincell of orange cats on occasion.
Anyways enjoy! See you next time
Skz + pets masterlist
Taglist: @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor
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shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years
Text
SUGAR DADDY
MODERN WARFARE MASTERLIST
Simon Ghost Riley x reader I can’t explain it but he just screams sugar daddy vibes you just know he doesn’t spend his money on himself why not spend it on you? Warnings NSFW minors dni this is my first time writing smut so be warned.
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Despite practically living his life on the battlefield Ghost was more up to date on things than the 141 would expect, but this however he had no idea about until he overheard two privates that were sharing a plane with them that he heard about sugar babies for the first time.
“It's great all I have to do is buy a little gift and take her to dinner to keep her happy she never asks where I’m going or when ill be back it's perfect, especially for this job.” That was exactly what he needed and he knew just where to look.
“It’s just to pay my rent, I know most girls expect big gifts and vacations, but I don’t.” You stressed your point to the man over the phone, being your first time being a sugar baby you didn't know if that was normal or not. But having heard about how busy most of the men are that do this kind of thing you didn't think twice about the arrangement.
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, we're both getting something out of this right, just be there when I call and we have a deal.” His deep voice soothed you as much as it excited you, that was one of his terms, you never call him just wait for him too, which you didn’t mind.
For months that’s how it went, he’d call and direct deposit your rent at the beginning of each month, it was easy money. Then slowly things changed he’d call late at night, voice straining as if he was in pain as he practically begged you to talk about anything to distract him from the war you didn’t know he was fighting.
It would span from a song you heard on the radio you liked to embarrassing stories from your youth.
“I don’t believe you.” His gruff voice sounded almost playful through the obvious tiredness you could hear.
Laying back against your pillows ignoring how unbothered you were at him interrupting your sleep. “No seriously I’ve never had a real boyfriend.”
“You’re too beautiful for a man to not even try to make you his.” He spoke as if he knew it as a fact. The compliment made your breath hitch hearing it come from him. Shaking your head at how ridiculous you sounded, you’ve never even seen him.
“How do you know I’m beautiful?” Your question made him speechless, he’d forgotten you weren’t supposed to know he’d seen you. Luckily for him, your sweet, innocent little laugh saved him from answering.
“But no, no flowers no one to open my door or make me my favorite meal after a rough day.”
“One day, one day you will princess.” His deep timber voice washed over you settling his spoken promise into your bones.
Over the next few months, you had almost daily calls when he was free with some weeks of radio silence with only the occasional flowers and takeout from your favorite restaurants to remember him by.
You’d even call him your friend if only you didn’t imagine how good his voice would sound calling you his good girl as you begged him to make you cum wishing it was his fingers inside your drenched pussy instead of yours.
Moaning out his name as you circled your clit, hips raising off the bed chasing the pleasure, biting your lip hard enough you tasted blood trying not to scream out as you came, your fingers not losing their rhythm as you pretended he was easing you through your release.
Your shivered coming down from your high, your phone ringing made you jump as you rushed to answer it not noticing the name through your haze until the same voice you had imagined only minutes before met your ears.
“Simon!”
“You alright love, sound out of breath?”
Slapping your hand over your mouth not realizing you were still panting you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. “Yeah just went for a run.”
The next day there were flowers on your doorstep crystal vase sitting next to a new set of curtains.
“Oh my god are those all Vivian Westwoods?!?!” Your friend shouted as you sat down for the weekly girls' night. Grabbing your hands, she examined the gold rings that went from your fingertips up to your knuckles the metal bending with your movements.
“Yeah, Simon got them for me.” Was all the details you gave, taking a tentative sip of your drink. to them he was your super mysterious boyfriend who showered you in gifts which to be fair wasn’t that far off. Just the title and the fact you’ve never seen his face.
You were so oblivious you never noticed the man in the corner, face covered by a dark balaclava. Silently watching over you like he did when he had time off. Ghost smirked under his mask as the warm feeling of pride filled his chest watching them fawn over the rings he meticulously picked out after seeing a man get too close to you one night.
He knew you’d pack a harder punch with your knuckles covered in the metal. Not that you knew the reason behind the gift.
Not being able to help himself he pulled out his phone sending you a text. ‘Call me when you’re free’ -Simon.
He smirked again watching you slyly smile at your phone typing before setting your phone face down on the table.
‘Okay daddy’
you blame the alcohol for the newfound bravery. After his text, you couldn’t wait to get out of the bar and immediately dial his number the second you got to your car. Making small talk until his voice got serious.
“I want you to meet me.” He spoke spiking your heart rate. “You can’t see my face but I want you. I’ll text you the address call me when you get there.” Your phone was still pressed against your ear after he hung up. Was this it were you finally getting to live your fantasy?
You couldn’t help but laugh pulling up to the adult store windows all blacked out a part of you hoped he wasn’t just going to have you pick out a toy so he could listen to you fuck yourself with it. You don’t remember quite when it happened but the voice on the phone has dug his way into what felt like your soul making you listen to every word he said.
You paused as your phone rang. “I’m here” “I know listen carefully.” You felt the excitement build in your stomach at the thought of him telling you what to do. “Go inside and go to the back room second door on the left and get comfortable.” You wordlessly nodded forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Can you do that for me love?”
“Yes.” “Good girl now go.”
Pushing your way inside you realize the windows weren’t blacked out, the store was just closed the only light came from the back lighting up the hallway he mentioned. You swallowed your nerves noting that this was how every horror movie started but for some unknown reason you felt safe.
Opening the second door you see a table backed up to a hole in the wall momentarily confused until you hear his voice from the other side of the wall.
“Don’t be shy love get on the table.”
“Fuck” you breathed out already feeling your pulse in your pussy. You listened to him and climbed on the table nearly moaning as you saw his hands through the hole wrapping around your ankles rubbing the thin skin with his thumbs.
“Remember we can stop anytime just say the word soap and I’ll stop.” Despite the haze in the air you couldn’t help but ask why soap. He huffed rolling his eyes on his side of the wall. “It will remind me of something annoying and make me stop.” He growls out yanking your legs through the hole up to your waist. You yelped in shock as he paused letting you get relaxed in your new position.
“Please.” You begged feeling his hands running over your thighs, squeezing and you hoped he’d leave bruises so you’d know this really happened and wasn’t some fever dream. “Please fuck me.” arousal fogging your brain. You don’t even care that you’ve technically never met you felt more secure and protected by him than you ever have before.
You recalled him telling you that no one has seen his face and that you couldn’t either but you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his hair. Your thoughts distracted you enough that you didn’t notice he had stripped your pants off and cuffed your ankles to the wall spreading you wide open for him.
“Simon.” You moaned feeling his hot breath against your lacy underwear, breathing you in he groaned wrapping the flimsy material around his fist.
“Can I?” He asked between clenched teeth holding himself back with little restraint. “Yes please yes!” With your approval he ripped your underwear apart lifting the shredded lace to his nose moaning, stuffing them in his cargo pants pocket for later.
Your legs jerked against the cuffs as his hot tongue softly slid through your slit flicking your clit. Looking down seeing the top of his head dirty blonde almost brown short hair and thick arms wrapped in muscle and tattoos dug into your thighs and hips, pulling you closer and digging his face into your pussy as his licks got more confident the louder you moaned and preened.
Your head fell back against the table as you felt a thick finger rub around your entrance. Your mumbles of pleasure made him smirk against you, slowly pushing his finger inside you. The sloppy sound of your spletching coming from your wet hole as he pulled his finger in and out almost made him cum in his pants.
“Come on my fingers love, then I’ll give you what you want.” He breathed out adding two more fingers making you whine at the stretch and doubling down on your clit sucking it between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.
“Come for me, come for me.” The vibration of his voice rolling up your spine from your pussy making you explode in pleasure grinding your hips into his face the best you could. “Good girl just like that.” He spoke against you. “Yes Yes YES!” You screamed.
Just like you imagined he didn’t let up as you came, his fingers still moving riding out your high, as he stood up if you were paying attention you would’ve heard the zipper and shuffling of clothes.
“Tell me you want this.” He demanded slapping the heavy head of his cock against your sensitive lips. “Please Simon.” You whine, being ready to slide through the hole in the wall and beg on your knees if he wanted.
Choking on air as he pushes into you, his groan loud enough it felt like it was right next to your ear. His thumbs rubbed your waist helping you relax around him. Pulling out so just the tip was left then snapping back in with all the strength he possessed, pushing your body up the table.
Your moaning was making it hard for him not to rip through the wall separating you and pull you into his arms fucking your mouth with his tongue like he was your pussy. Pressing his forehead against the was he picked up his pace the sounds of his cock filling you over and over and skin slapping was pornographic.
“Give me one more love, now.” He growled. Your body obed practically coming on command you screamed clenching down on his cock milking him and making his hips stutter as he shook with his release. Slamming one of his hands against the wall.
After some time his hands softly ran up and down your legs almost massaging them from their stiff position as he caught his breath. “You okay love?” Kissing each of your ankles he uncuffs them. “I’m perfect.”
When you got home there was a gift box filled with the most luxurious bath salts and bath bombs and a still warm box from your favorite pizza place.
A few weeks later the 141 was at their go-to bar, sitting in the corner ghost was keeping a sharp eye on his pretty little bartender. As his teammates go shot for shot.
“Ghost help me with this round.” Glaring at soap he follows across the bar standing next to Soap as he tries to flag down the other bartender. Simon tunes them out keeping a subtle eye on you while you mixed drinks a wide smile on your face as you made jokes with your customers. He glared harshly at his teammate when he felt a rough hit against his arm.
“If you stare at her anymore you’ll freak her out.” Soap spoke patiently waiting for the tables shots and beers. “Wasn’t staring.” Was his retort. Making Soap laugh. “Sure LT…”
The conversation ended when your coworker set down the drinks, ghost grabbing his half while soap struck up another conversation with the bartender.
“So my big friend over here hasn’t quit staring at your coworker any chance you can tell me her name.” He asked making ghost tense “Soap!” He barked but quickly deflated as your coworker yelled to get your attention. ‘Shit’
Ghost was used to making himself look as big and as scary as possible to the enemy, but that all went out the window the closer you got he shrunk in on himself trying to appear less menacing.
“Y/n they were asking about you.” The bartender said patting your arm as she moves to the other side to take more orders. You looked between the two men with a small smile completely ignoring the balaclava covering his face.
“hello beautiful, I’m soap. excuse my friend here he’s not as much of a talker as I am but he’s been staring at you all night and this seemed less creepy than you catching him doing it so ghost, there you go.” Soap nodded toward you while ghost glared at him like he was imagining every way he wanted to kill him. To be fair that was probably exactly what he was thinking.
Your eyes shot to his making him swallow. He’d never seen you up close before, well not your face anyways your eyes sparkled in the low light of the bar making his cold heart skip a beat. Ghost lifted a single hand and shook it resembling a wave, Making you smile.
“I’m sure you’re a great guy but I have a fiancé.” Your words snapped him back to reality ‘a what now’ glancing down at your fingers finding a small diamond ring replaced the jointed metal ones he got you. his eyes hardened, grip on the bar top nearly breaking as he holds himself back from finding the man and breaking his neck. Does your fiance know you’re sleeping with him? How do you talk so late into the night for hours with a fiance?
“Of course, we will leave you be.” Soap nodded grabbing the drinks ghost abandoned and dragging him along back to the table. “I get she has a fiancé but a wave was the best move you had? No baby ghost running around soon huh?”
His words made Ghost snap, grabbing Soap by the collar and pulling him up to his face. “Leave it!” He growled, pushing soap back to the table where the 141 were now standing from watching their Lieutenant and sergeant toe to toe. Not that they would get between them price would be the only one ballsy enough to pull ghost off.
Pushing Soap back, beer sloshing out of the glasses onto the floor and his shirt. ghost stormed off to the other side of the bar finding a dark corner to brood in.
Words of “Was all of it a lie, did she play me, how did I not see it coming, I knew it was too good to be true.” All went through his head as he stared holes through the phone in his hands. The first photo you sent him staring back at him the same wide smile that was on your face on the other side of the room at that very moment.
How could she be smiling when she hurt me like this? ‘She doesn’t know it’s you dumbass’ his inner monologue spoke making his eyes roll to the back of his head in frustration. Deciding to completely ignore your presence lasted all of five minutes before his eyes darted up at a loud slap, finding you right in the middle of it.
He watches your shoulder raise and fall with a large breath, shaking your head you went to take a step away from the table full of rowdy college frat boys.
“Hey!” You yelped when the one that smacked your ass grabs a hold of your arm when you walked away, dragging you back.
“Where’s the fire sweetheart why don’t you take a seat.” The leader leaned back patting his thigh with a lazy smile across his face.
“I really need to get back to work.” Nervously laughing you tug at your hand trying to pull it out of his grip, only pissing him off. His smile dropped and he leaned closer yanking you into him causing you to stumble and fall onto his lap.
“I think you’re right where you need to be, right boys?” The table erupted in laughs as you struggle to get away grabbing the fork on the table and jabbing it as hard as you could into his arm. Making him exclaim and push you off.
Snarling he looked between you on the floor and the fork in his arm. “Fucking bitch!” You scrambled backward as he lunged for you. Closing your eyes you braced for impact.
Your eyes shot open with a gasp as shouting erupted throughout the bar. Only seeing a broad back standing between you and the table.
Simon didn’t know what came over him but the second you were manhandled into the man’s lap he saw red. His eyes scanned you on the floor for injuries as he moved between you and the men.
“Shouldn’uv done that” he gruffed out, nearly laughing as two of them stood to take him on grabbing them both by the collars he rag-dolled them to the side throwing them to the floor. Frat kids against a trained pissed-off soldier, it was too easy. Out of the corner of his eye Ghost saw his team move in to take the rest brave enough to stand up.
Ignoring the chaos around him ghost zeroed in on the one that shoved you. Wrapping his gloved hands around his neck pulling him close enough ghost could smell the fear rolling off the man in waves as he was face to face with ghost.
“You’re coming with me.” Dragging the struggling man screaming to be let go outside. This was exactly what ghost needed to let out his frustration.
Meanwhile, your view of the two men headed outside became obstructed by the man that called himself Soap earlier crouched down beside you.
“You alright lass?” He asked helping you off the floor as your eyes slowly met his and nodded. Soap led you to the bar and sat you gently on a barstool. Checking you over. As he looked you up and down you did the same.
His eyes shot back to yours as you laughed softly, “what’s so funny?” He asked, scrunching his eyebrows. By now the bar had cleared out and was quiet once again. “A Mohawk really?”
“A fork really?” He relates his accent sounding thicker with his deadpan tone. His question snapped you back to reality making you scan across the wreckage of the bar. Shattered glass all over, the floor covered in alcohol you’re sure you even saw a broken chair.
“Where’s your friend?” You gasped looking back to Soap and grabbing his arm. “Which one?”
“The one in the mask.” Soaps lips made an O shape before laughing to himself. “He’s fine I promise bastard has handled a lot worse than a few jackasses in a bar.”
For some unknown you were filled with panic at his words nearly toppling off the stool in your haste, rushing across the bar and out the door a small huff escape your lungs as you run into the masked man’s chest.
His arms wrapped around you catching you before you fell. “Easy.” Your breath caught as you locked eyes, dark swirls behind the balaclava stared back at you.
Ghosts arms slowly released you like he was clinging to the feeling of having you in his arms, with a sigh he dragged himself away from you and leaned back against the cold brick wall of the building.
“Um thank you for that in there.” You stammered fiddling with your fingers as he stares ahead at nothing. The only recognition that he heard you was a nod of his head as silence hung between you both. “What did you do to him?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Was his curt response after a few moments he sighed not being able to help himself. “Are you alright?”
Your brows raised in shock at his question. “No, I’m ok.” He looked unimpressed “He handled you pretty rough for a soft thing like you.”
“I had it handled.” You barked feeling the need to defend yourself even if you definitely didn’t have it handled. To your surprise, he chucked the deep rumble sent shivers down your back.
“I saw, doubt he will ever be able to look at a fork again.”
You smiled rubbing your arms up and down trying to warm up. “No, I’m not cold.” You lied watching him start to unzip his jacket and take it off. He didn’t utter a word just shook the jacket dangling from his hand until you took it.
The rich smell of whiskey and gunpowder and something just pure man filled your lungs wrapping around you so tightly you didn’t think you’d ever smell anything else again. You missed the way his eyes softened and filled with possessiveness simultaneously, seeing you in his clothes.
Then the bitter reminder bubbles up seeing your left ring finger. Speaking through a clenched jaw. “Your fiancé should’ve been here to protect you.” The silent ‘like I would’ hung in the air.
You laughed shaking your head as you moved to lean your back against the wall next to him. “I’m not engaged, Simon. It’s a fake to keep creeps off”
“Then why-wait what.” He stammered for the first time shock filling his body as you called him by name. Shyly looking up at his towering figure you nodded your head to the unasked question. “Your voice.”
Falling back heavily against the wall he pondered his thoughts the way you were gazing at him made it difficult. “What now?” He asked for once not feeling in control. “Well, I’d really like it if you took me home.” By the time you finished your sentence, he was already moving to lead you to his truck with a large hand warming the small of your back.
“You’ve got it, love.”
“Wait what about your friends?” You asked pointing behind you as he held the passenger door open. “Fuck them.”
Hii!! Hope you liked it let me know in the comments I wanted to write more of this but it was getting long so who wants part 2
If you liked this check out my other ghost works here
cod taglist request open
@sandinthemachine
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tumbleweed-run · 11 months
Text
Raw
Kinktober Day 29 Breathplay 98% Bloodweave
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“You’re going to die one day, you know, both of you,” Astarion announces, sounding petulant. 
Gale has long learned that tone is covering up other things, things the vampire isn’t ready to face. 
“Yes,” he says in agreement instead of arguing. They, he and Tav, that is, will die one day, hopefully far into the future. 
Astarion huffs and turns from the window, clearly annoyed with Gale’s answer. “And what am supposed to do then? Now that you’ve dragged me into,” he waves a hand around the room, “this.”
Tav stirs in her sleep but is otherwise undisturbed by them. Gale spares her a glance, hopeful she remains that way. It’s far too late to be having this conversation, but having it, they were. 
“No one dragged you. You were invited,” he reminds the vampire. 
Another huff. Those long-dead lungs are busy tonight. “It remains. What am I supposed to do then?”
“Live?” Gale suggests the obvious. He’s not sure what’s brought this on. Their mortality against Astarion’s immortality has never exactly been a secret. 
Astarion seems to consider that suggestion but then shakes his head, whether to dismiss his thoughts as a whole or the suggestion itself, Gale isn’t sure. 
“What if I can’t?” It’s said so quietly Gale might have believed he hadn’t really heard it at all, except the other man is facing him now, face uncharacteristically raw and expecting. 
“Then you’ll join us,” he says simply. 
Astarion is next to him now, arms crossed, looking angry. “You make it sound so easy,” he hisses, fangs bared. 
Gale resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead, he gently closes his book and deposits it on the table beside the bed. “It is, to a point,” he agrees softly, “you have only two options at that point. Each of us does.”
Gale isn’t one to pretend about things like this. He knows that if he lost them both, his grave would also be dug. He’d been willing to die for Mystra but chose to live for Tav. He doesn’t think his life is without its own merits, but there is little hope his heart would continue to work if he’d lost them. Luckily, depending on how you viewed it, they were all far more likely to go out together, be it through some accident or adventure. 
If he had to choose a premature death, that’s his choice. 
Astarion seems almost able to read his mind as he asks his next question.
“What would you do?” his voice is back to soft, but he seems deflated now. 
“If I lost you both?” Gale asks, but Astarion doesn’t answer. He’s standing so close to the bed that his thighs are touching it. He’s turned his face away from Gale. “I would follow.”
This proclamation doesn’t seem to please Astarion. His face pinches, and his arms cross again. 
“I think,” Gale says, carefully reaching out to grab one of the vampire’s hands, pulling it towards him. “That if I lost one of you that I would survive, we,” he emphasizes this with a tug of Astarion’s hand, “would survive. It’s a hurt that we could shoulder together.” 
Astarion’s eyes are guarded when he finally looks at Gale, but he takes it as a good sign when the other man doesn’t rip his hand away. He’s unnaturally still for some time, and Gale lets him think. Then, it’s in a sudden flurry of motion that Astarion climbs his way into Gale’s lap. 
“Astarion,” Gale gasps out a warning, looking next to them to make sure that, in his haste, Astarion didn’t knee Tav in the face. 
Astarion looks then, too, and when they find Tav still sleeping, he starts moving again. “She’ll forgive us,” he whispers before his mouth descends on Gale. 
Gale grasps the vampire’s hips and holds on. There’s little else for him to do. Astarion is nearly frantic with the way he presses kisses against his face. His fangs aren’t minded, and Gale knows he’ll look like he got into a fight with a particularly feral cat come morning. 
Astarion breaks away from him, only long enough to rip Gale’s shirt over his head. Then he’s back for his skin. He dives for Gale’s Netherese mark, back bent in a painful-looking fashion. When the vampire’s teeth break the skin there Gale knows it's on purpose. He hisses and jumps but otherwise allows Astarion his attack. He stays there focused until Gale is hesitant to look down, convinced his skin will be flayed open.
The relief of Astarion letting up from his attack is brief as his lips return to Gale’s. Gale makes an attempt to return the kisses, if they could be called that. He tries to soften Astarion’s movement, hands smoothing up the other man’s sides. Astarion will not be gentled tonight. Instead, he sits back abruptly, one hand flying up to bracket around Gale’s neck. 
Instinctively, Gale reaches up to grasp at Astarion’s wrist, but his brain catches up before he shoves him away. The vampire is just holding his hand there, not actually putting any pressure. It’s a warning, and somehow, given his current state, it’s a request. He looks at Astarion, chest heaving as he waits for something. The scholarly part of Gale is curious if his regression back to human tendencies is related to all the emotions he can see swirling in Astarion’s eyes. He’s not about to ask, very much aware of their current position. 
The part of Gale that is nothing better than any man is aware his cock is already so hard it hurts. He wants to reach down and feel if Astarion’s in the same way. He’s almost certain he is. Beneath the near-feral look on his face is a look Gale’s come to recognize. But again, he does nothing. 
That must be Astarion’s cue because his fingers twitch as he gradually begins squeezing at the sides of Gale's throat. Gale allows it but keeps his hand on the vampire’s wrist. If this is how Astarion plans to kill him, no amount of shoving at him will help; Gale knows this. Yet he doesn’t move more than to relax his body against the pressure. 
His ears have begun ringing when Astarion releases the pressure, though he keeps his hand ringed around Gale’s throat. Gale inhales deeply for a moment but barely has time before Astarion is kissing him again. At least this time, he manages to keep his fangs in his own mouth. Gale leans up to return the kiss but comes up short, the the hand around his neck refuses to move or allow him to. 
It’s Astarion who moves, one hand working to open his trousers. Gale takes pity on him and helps. Together, they manage to undo them, and Astarion finally moves his hand as he somehow manages to shimmy his pants off. Either he wasn’t wearing underwear, or he took them off with the pants. Gale can feel his cool skin through the thin fabric of his own sleep pants.
The hand is back around his neck almost instantly, and Gale sighs. “Is this how it’s going to be tonight?” He asks. 
His response is in the form of tightening fingers. They squeeze harder this time and hold well past when the ringing in his ears starts. Gale’s vision is beginning to fade around the edges when Astarion finally releases his grip. He’s much greedier this time when he sucks in air, his gasp audibly. The rush of blood as it returns to his brain leaves him feeling lightheaded and almost giddy. Astarion slides himself forward on Gale’s thighs until their cocks brush against one another. Gale gasps and rocks up into the sensation. 
Almost as soon as his skin stops buzzing does Astarion begin again. Gale grabs at the vampire’s hips and holds. He’s at the same place when Astarion releases. This time, Gale’s hips roll up immediately. Astarion’s eyes rolling back is the first thing Gale can see as his vision clears. He roughly keeps grinding their cocks together. His hold on Astarion’s hips much tighter than usual. There is likely to be bruising in the morning, to match the still stinging marks on his own skin. 
Gale’s the one who groans when Astarion pushes up onto his knees to create a gap between them. He quickly shoves Gale’s loose pants down until his cock springs free. Astarion looks at it for a moment with the same hungry look he often gives to strangers’ necks, and it makes Gale shiver. 
He moves quickly and Gale’s hands on Astarion’s hips are the only reason he’s able to push back against him. “Stop,” he grinds out, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Good,” Astarion rolls his eyes and tries to slam his hips down once more. 
Gale realizes he’s losing and barely manages the incantation for oil before Astarion manages to win. The other man curses as he realizes it’s not a total victory. The oil coating Gale’s cock eases some of the discomfort he’d hoped to cause as he slides down onto it. It’s not his best spellwork, but given the circumstances, Gale is proud of himself. 
A little too proud, apparently, because Astarion’s hand flies back to his throat and squeezes immediately. This time, Gale leans into the pressure, locking his eyes with Astarion. Neither of them moves while Astarion chokes him, both of them frozen in this tableau. It’s only once he’s release that Gale thrusts up. 
It’s enough to knock Astarion off balance, which is a testament to his current state of mind, and he collapses forward onto Gale’s chest. Gale hesitates only long enough to see if Astarion is going to tell him to stop. When he doesn’t protest, Gale grabs at his hips and begins fucking up into him. Astarion is almost limp against him and Gale thinks about pushing him back up, to check on him, when he feels the brush of fangs against his already battered neck. 
He tilts his head in invitation. 
Astarion wastes no time in biting him. Gale has to restrain his thrusts in favor of not accidentally ripping out his own throat. Instead, he settles into rolling his hips upward gently, allowing each movement to drag Astarion’s cocks where it’s trapped between them. The vampire swallows mouthfuls of Gale’s blood noisily. 
It's gone on long enough, and Gale digs his thumb into the crease of Astarion’s hip. Astarion makes a startled noise and pulls back quickly. There was no grace or elegance to the way he was feeding, and there’s a smear of blood from his chin to his nose. Gale can feel a small trickle of blood going down his neck and onto the pillow beneath him. Astarion’s eyes zero in on it, and he raises his hand one more time and presses his fingers against the bite marks. Whether he’s trying to be helpful and stem the blood or just fascinated with the mess, Gale isn’t sure. 
Gale doesn’t care. 
He begins thrusting up into Astarion once more, no longer constrained by the risk to his own life. Astarion makes little noises, grunts that sound punched out of him, with each thrust. He keeps his fingers pressed against Gale’s neck. 
“Why do you let me do this?” Astarion asks after a moment.
Gale groans, only a little frustrated, but when he properly looks at Astarion, he slows his movements. For the first time since the other man finally spoke tonight, his eyes are clear, and he no longer looks frenzied. 
“You know why,” Gale tells him. 
Astarion shakes his head, “no, I don’t.”
Gale sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “Because I trust you,” he says truthfully once he reopens them. 
Astarion’s eyes narrow on him. “Why?” He pushes.
They’re doing this tonight, Gale realizes. There’s no way to side-track the vampire so they can have this conversation at a more reasonable hour, in more reasonable states of mind.
“Because I love you,” he admits, feeling a little like he’s admitting defeat.
Astarion’s hand grips his neck roughly, harder than at any other point tonight. “Don’t,” he growls, there’s wetness growing at the corner of his eyes. 
Gale can’t do this again, he realizes almost immediately. His neck is too bruised already, and this time it hurts, badly. Not to mention he’s lost not an insignificant amount of blood, and what little he has left is trapped painfully in his cock. His fingers move as this realization washes over him, three sharp taps against Astarion’s hip. 
Astarion lets go immediately, hand flying back almost as if burned. Gale keeps his hold on him, in part for his own stability but also to keep him from fleeing. Astarion sits rigidly, looking at him. 
“Do you want to stop?” It’s Gale who asks. 
Astarion sags a little but shakes his head. Gale wants to continue, his arousal hasn’t flagged, but the gnawing in his gut prompts him to smooth a hand up Astarion’s back and ask again. “Do you want to stop?”
Astarion nods but refuses to look up at Gale again.
Gale easily maneuvers Astarion up off of his cock and frees a hand just long enough to pull his pants back up. Astarion allows himself to be pulled back against Gale’s chest and doesn’t argue when he wraps his arms around him. Gale realizes they’re both still covered in sweat, blood, and cum but right now they need this more. He’s tense for a moment, waiting to see if Astarion argues against this. When he doesn’t, Gale relaxes back against the pillows. He even manages to find a corner of the covers and pull it over them. 
He finally spares a glance at Tav again and isn’t surprised to find she’s awake. She’s watching the two of them quietly, and when she sees Gale’s looking, she gives a short nod. 
“I do love you,” Gale says to Astarion, who seems less rigid against him. “We love you,” he amends, looking down at Tav.
Astarion makes a noise like he’s winding up to argue, but Gale rubs his hands against the vampire’s back over the blanket as he continues. “It’s okay if you can’t hear that now, but it’ll be there when you’re ready.”
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Awkwardly Awarding
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pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader
warning: 18+, porn with plot, smut, dead relative, unprotected sex, oral(f), praise kink?, fingering, hickeys, teasing, pet names (nothing crazy!), squirting, overstimulation, Gojo being Gojo?, lmk if there’s anymore u see!
w/c: 5.8k
a/n: HELPPP😭 No one asked but heres an idea that came to me while I was playing the Sims TT First time writing smut lmk what u thinkkk ;) Also Tumblr being weird so hopefully this posts!
The death of my father wasn’t one I was not expecting. I mean sure, he was a nice dad, but he was never really there when I needed him. Instead of sitting around and complaining about him like I usually did I kept quiet this entire week. I was alone now and in an entirely new area with entirely new people. Arriving at the apartments was a bit overwhelming, to say the least.
The intense amount of traffic, high buildings, and busy streets were definitely sensory overload, but it didn’t matter because the view was absolutely phenomenal. Before Dad bit the bullet he did leave me a huge sum of money which allowed me to purchase my second ever apartment.
My last apartments did not compare to these newer ones, plus they were centered more in the city which meant I was now paying twice my old rent for this new apartment, but that’s what a trust fund is for, right? I didn’t have a lot to move, but it was still enough to fill up a small rented truck from the movers.
The hard part was now done! Was what I thought once all the boxes were moved into the apartment however, the organizing was actually going to cause me to jump off of this building through my beautiful window.
I went through the first few boxes with ease that was until I ran into my childhood things— yes I keep them in a separate box. Quietly I pulled stuffed animal after stuffed animal. Those didn’t hurt as much as the stuffed animal made in memory of my first late dog.
I couldn’t stop the tears from coming as I gripped the dog… Dick… oh how I missed that dog. His name wasn’t Dick that was the stuffed animals name, after the late Moby— who was my actual dog.
After a night of crying I had drag myself out of my makeshift bed made out of pillows and blankets because I was dumb enough not to buy an air mattress. This was the same job I had been working at previously.
Once I got home it was like feeling of dread washed over me. So, instead of cleaning and unpacking I found my self ordering Pizza. I’m not going to lie, I did pick up a few things but after I put up my landscape themed calendar I realized I forgot one big important thing.
A desk…
I rushed to grab my phone and open the Amazon app and after doing so typing up “desk” in the search engine. And after a minute of scrolling and biting my thumb nail I found the perfect one!
It had white drawers down the right side and a beautiful oak that would go well with the frame of the bed I had yet to put together. I sighed at the price, I guess left overs will have to do for dinner. It wasn’t that I was poor buuuut I spend a lot on the deposit for this place and I still had bills to pay and set up.
A couple of minutes later, still in my work clothes, I heard the doorbell ring. My tummy ached for the steamy and hot pepperoni pizza… there was a $5 deal…
I got up and walked to the front door. Out of habit, I looked through the peephole only to feel my mouth water at the sight…and smell. I opened the door wide open with a wide smile. After u paid for the pizza then sat down to eat said pizza, I packed it up and put it in the fridge this place came with.
“It came with all of the utilities,” my best friend I met at work asked. I sat the phone down on my makeshift bed before stripping to get into something more comfortable for bed, “Yes! And everything works—well I haven’t had to wash anything yet but we’ll see.”
I could hear my friend agree through the phone with a hum, “I suppose that’s why it’s so expensive.” I chuckled at her reasoning “Oh yeah, I’m definitely getting my pennies worth.” We talked a little while longer and she offered to come help since she knew someone in the area or in the same apartment but I told her it was fine.
Heading into work with a sore back was not ideal especially if you are standing all day which is not what I was doing exactly. The drive home was lengthier which meant I was more tired than usual. I almost had to pull over to take a quick nap, but I was on the highway so it wouldn’t even have worked out for me.
Once I made it home I was eager to shed off the clothing of running around delivering papers and sitting at a desk doing hand exercises so my hands wouldn’t cramp for how many emails I have to write.
Now left in my lazy but simple lacey lingerie I walked to the kitchen and pulled out a pizza and heated it up. My ears perked up at a notification going off from my phone on the counter. I grabbed it and was shown a picture of the box that contained my desk in it sitting beside my door.
I glanced at the time at the top left corner of my phone… 3:46 am… no one would be up at this time, right? I looked down at my body and waited for a couple of minutes to ensure the delivery guy was gone. I took a peak out the window and watched as his giant van of Amazon shit rode away.
I walked to the front door and opened it, the cool air of the hallway making the buds of my nipples perk up. I shivered and looked down at the box, it was quite big, but no match for me!
I tried to pull it from the side failing miserably so I opted to push it into my doorframe. I checked around the hall quickly, not spotting anyone I got behind the box and bent down to push the box forward. The grunts coming from my mouth covered the sound of a door opening right behind me.
I pushed my legs back and finally pushed the box fully in through the door of my apartment. I stood up straight and sighed placing a hand on my head because being lightheaded was enough for me. Still, I clearly wasn’t aware of the wide eyes of my neighbor right behind me who had been staring at my ass.
I turned to close the door and found myself face to face with my neighbor who stood in his own doorframe. My eyes widened and my ears started burning from embarrassment as I looked down to see what I was wearing.
I slammed the door shut and slumped against the door, my hands covering my face. If I wasn’t so caught up in the way I was dressed or feeling I would’ve noticed how handsome and hot my neighbor was.
Letting out a squeal of embarrassment I got up and just left the box in the entrance and went to grab my pizza that I had left in my microwave that was also provided.
Wanting to ignore whatever happened, I decided to turn in for the night and put my dish in the sink and padded my way to my bedroom with the bed still not made. Groaning out of frustration I took my place in the mess of the blankets and stuffed animals with a pillow or two.
Gojo
There was no way that happened, right? I’ve seen naked women all the time, but only as they present themselves. It’s been a minute since I’d seen someone naked not trying to impress anyone—or was she?
Taking a second to stop and bend over I looked at the watch on my hand,
4:20 am
Damn. I looked up and that’s when I felt it. The tightness in my joggers. This was going to be a long and uncomfortable run when all I could think about were her long and pretty legs. She looked like she smelt like lavender vanilla.
I groaned and began running once more around the city, the buildings never ending and the chatter and laughter never ceased. One girl— drunk no doubt—made eye contact with me. She was blonde, thin, and her tits we’re practically hanging out and when she turned and looked back at me my eyes shifted to her ass.
It was big, unnaturally so which made my mind travel back to her… when she bent over, the way her laced panties rode up the valley of her ass. The soft outline of her pussy, wonder what it would taste like?
Shit.
I had to come to a stop and fix my problem before it looked like I visibly pissed myself. “Hey,” I turn at the nasally voice behind me. I saw the way she looked at me up and down and letting my pride take over I smirked and glanced over her body for a second time.
She wasn’t with her friends this time which meant she sought me out in purpose. “Hey there,” she giggled at the dip in my voice, right on track. She offered for me to go back to her place just a block away, walking up to me and placing her hands on my biceps.
The walk there was mostly her talking about her friends and how much she hated them because she “knew” they were jealous of her. I didn’t really care and let her yap on, the hardness of my dick lessening as she spoke more and more.
As soon as we made it in her lips were on my neck and her hands were sliding under my shirt. Taking it off I forced her on her knees which made her grin up at me as she pulled the sweats I was wearing down.
Placing my hand on her head my mind went back to her… the way her h/c spread across her shoulders and the way her butt jiggled when she pushed the box through that door. The more I thought about her the closer I felt to cuming.
Y/n
“Ughh how long is this going to take,” I nearly pulled the hair out of my head in frustration. I was in the bathroom of my office and was currently trying to avoid the meeting. “You know no matter how hard you tug you won’t pull the boredom out of your head,” I turned to see my best friend smirking.
“Shoko, I feel like I’m going to die. I’m so under stimulated,” I practically whine and she just laughed and walked next to me. “Let’s go back, besides we get off in an hour and a half so this meeting shouldn’t last long,” her words naught some comfort to me as I sighed.
I pulled her in for a hug to which she returned, “What would I do without you,” I mumbled into her suit jacket backing her chuckle. “Let’s go out for drinks tonight, we both have the day off tomorrow in a long time,” she held me back from my shoulders.
Now that sounded amazing but I only sighed and felt myself visibly deflate, “I can’t, I still have a couple of things to unpack—“
“So come out when you’re done—“ Shoko interrupted making me frown even more, “I have to build a desk, Shoko.” Her face winced at that. The last time we both tried to build one it fell apart after we placed my computer in it, breaking to computer and the desk.
“How does tomorrow sound,” she spoke through her teeth cringing at the thought of building. I laugh at her suggestion and nodded. We both went back to the meeting and sat there for nearly two. More. Hours.
I know I needed the over time, but this was ridiculous. After another 30 minutes I looked at the clock to find it was 8:05pm. Then we were dismissed, the room filling with grumbles and mumbles of distain.
Once again, the ride home was long but out of sheer anger and annoyance I found myself eager to get home and build that damn desk so I can have fun tomorrow. Making in the building and to the elevator I sensed someone was standing beside me.
I glanced and nearly gasped at the sight of my handsome neighbor. The elevator dinged and we both made our way inside. The silence was deafening and the awkwardness was heavy. I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see his face but was pulled out of my thoughts by his deep and soothing voice.
“I’m Satoru Gojo, haven’t had the pleasure of formally meeting you,” I opened an eye to look down and see he held his hand out. Then I looked up at his face and instinctively gripped his hand when the elevator shook.
“Y/n, it’s nice to meet you too…formally,” I wanted to shrink into a hole and die. His chuckle made my belly flutter and my chest tighten. The elevator dinged causing the both of us to let go of each others hand and get off.
We both walked side my side with each other, still in awkward silence. Stopping at our doors we stood there for a good minute not saying anything. I heard his mouth open as he was about to speak before I beat him to it, “Come inside?”
He nearly fell to his knees when he heard it.
“S-sorry,” his voice waived causing me to shake my head in embarrassment, “It’s okay if not, I understand it’s been a long day. I just wanted to welcome you into my new home as a friendly neighbor.” Was I stupid? Inviting a stranger— a man! Into my home.
I could practice at my dead dad screaming at the top of his lungs about me being stupid. “Sure,” his response caught me off guard. He was stuttering and mumbling just a second ago, now he’s running a hand through his hair and smirking?
I roll my eyes and we both walk into my home. I notice his eyes go to the box containing my desk on the floor as I try hard to ignore it. “It’s… not much and I’m still waiting to get a couple more pieces of furniture, but with my budget it’s gonna have to wait,” I gesture to the mostly blank living room and dinning area.
Really, the only places completely done were the bathrooms and the kitchen. I needed to set up my office and my bedroom. “It’s nice… cozy” he says looking around making me fake a laugh “haha,” this in turn causes him to laugh, a sound I never want to forget.
I walk to the fridge and open it, “I apologize, I don’t have much as far as food so I’ve just been eating takeout. Need to go grocery shopping by the end of this week,” I hear him hum in acknowledgment, “No it’s fine, I ate beforehand.”
A moment of awkward silence washes over us before he breaks it, “your desk.” What an odd thing to say. I look up at him in confusion. He’s standing on one side of the island while I stand on the other. I watch as he glances to the box in the entrance, “you still haven’t built you desk?”
I sigh in embarrassment, “N-no I haven’t really had the time.” I raise my hand to nervously scratch the back of my neck. The next words that come out of his mouth make my eyes light up, “I can build it for you. If you want?”
“Yes!” I answered a bit too quickly making his eyebrow raise. “I’m sorry I just—I’m no good at building and I asked my friend but she’s also not good at building,” he nods in understatement before he walks over to the box. “Where do you want it,” he asks picking up the box with ease making my jaw drop.
He walks over with the box in his hands, the veins in his hands and arms popping out making me gulp. “Sweetheart I’m gonna need you to use your words,” I look up at the words usually used for endearment. A faint blush rises to me cheeks as I point to an area in the living room.
“O-over there is—is uh fine,” I tell him and I hear the box run against his hair which meant he nodded in acknowledgement. Once he set it down he pulled out a pocket knife making me jump and he stabbed box open.
Who the hell carries a knife with them in the cit— that was a stupid thing to question. My eyes fall to his arms as he tolls his sleeves up, the oversized dress shirt accentuating the veins on his arms. Instinctively, my thighs clutch together as I watch from the kitchen island.
He grunts as he pulls out the large wooden plank causing me to bite my lip and he sets it up against the wall. Now all the pieces were out along the empty floor. He claps his hand together, “thank you for the build,” he speaks to no one.
Is he serious? Did he just turn a common eating phrase into a building phrase. Odd guy, I like him. I want him… “what do you think,” I was caught off guard once more by his panting and out of breath sentence.
Gulping I look to see that he’s done with the drawers, “I-it looks really good Gojo.” His smile grows wider, “call me Satoru!” I chuckle at his expression. Demon. How can someone so sexy speak so cutely.
Shifting my weight to my other leg I freeze at the sensation. I was wet… and it felt uncomfortable except for the fact that it was caused by Gojo. I took another glance and noticed his stance. He had one knee in the ground and the other balanced him out, foot placed firmly on the ground.
He didn’t look hard but boy, can eyes be deceiving. “Alright,” he spoke in a song making me giggle at him. He was sure adorable when he wanted to be. Was he done already? I can’t believe I was so in my head I didn’t even her him hammering or drilling the screws.
“I just need to place this on top and secure it then I’m all done,” he grinned at me and put his hand on the wood plank still being held up by the wall. Now that I had the chance, I glanced at his body full over. His hair was slightly disheveled and there were light traces of sweat coming down his forehead and neck.
Feeling embarrassed I let out gasp and walk to the cabinet with the cups and pull one out before placing it under the ice dispenser and changing it to dispense filtered water. Unaware of Gojo watching me and my form with an unfamiliar gaze.
Then I make my way over to him and notice the desk was now finished. “I couldn’t thank you enough, but here’s some water,” I tell him with a worried voice and shove the glass into his hands. His fingers grazed my as he walked closer to me.
I felt my breath hitch as I look up at the man who was now towering over me, “There might be a way—but ah~ I don’t wanna sound so sleezy,” I watch as he backs up slightly and his hand lightly shakes the back of his neck.
“N-no, not at all! Anything,” the tone in my voice unintentionally drops at the last word. His eyes narrow and then I feel his hands being placed on my hips. The water had been discarded and placed in the desk. At least it didn’t crumble under the pressure of water.
He brings one hand up and places it under my chin pulling me closer to his face as he leans down. “Let me taste you,” my thighs rub together at the raspyness of his voice. Noticing his eyes were now on my lips I let my gaze fall to his.
No way a man this beautiful with such beautiful lips had one of the most filthiest—in a good way— sentence come out of his mouth. I couldn’t take it, it felt like all night I was being teased so I gave in.
I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him into me, his lips puckered and pressed against mine. The kiss was heavy and needy. Just then, I felt the eagerness and desperation in the actions of his tongue. I let my mouth open slightly as his tongue slid inside.
His hands gripped my waist and turned me so my ass was pressed against the desk he had just built. He stops the kissing momentarily to speak, “let’s see how good this desk really is,” his voice sounded nearly like a purr.
I let out a soft hum in agreement as his hands slid down to the underside of my thighs, giving them a squeeze to signal to jump back onto the desk. As soon as I was on it he waisted no time placing his lustful lips all over my neck causing small moans to escape my mouth.
His hand made its way down to where I desperately needed him the most. Feeling me twitch beneath him, I could feel the smirk against my skin. That didn’t stop him from sucking my neck like a sex crazed teenager.
“Can I take this off of you baby,” he mumbled against the skin of my neck, the vibrations causing another moan to slip from my mouth. “Yes, please Gojo,” he didn’t like this. He ripped down the work pants I had on and the panties I was wearing as well.
“How many times will I have to keep saying it, say my name,” he almost sounded like a little kid having to give up their rights to their favorite toy. His hands were back on me as he pulled me closer to the edge of the desk rather harshly.
His hand also made its way back to my now unclothed center causing me to gasp. His eyes widened as he pulled back entirely and looked down then back up at me. The look on his face was one I’ll never forget.
He looked so genuinely happy and the way his eyes were wide with excitement made my heart and my pussy swell. He looked at me with pure adoration, something I rarely have done to me especially by men.
“Shit, is this all for me,” he beamed in excitement and when I nodded he fell to his knees at the sight in front of him. “It’s so pretty…” I felt the familiar heat rise in my cheeks, was I really embarrassed by his words?
My body tensed as he took two of his fingers and slid them down my labia, his way of teasing. I glanced down at him and he looked like he’d never seen pussy before making me slightly nervous. Then I felt it, the warm almost hot, thick, and wet muscle making contact with me.
He took his tongue and slid it from the base of my vagina all the way to the hood of my clit. I didn’t miss the way his tongue disappeared in between my folds and pussy lips. The sight making me more wet.
He looked up at me and I could see the clear but faintly white discoloration on his tongue before swallowing it in front of me, “oh you taste heavenly, just like I thought.” His hands were now hooked around my thighs as his tongue once again made contact with my pussy.
This time he licked around where I needed him the most causing me to squirm, “Satoru~,” he hummed at my whining, “Use your words sweetheart.” I couldn’t do this anymore, “Satoru eat me out already,” I begged causing him to chuckle lightly.
He wasted no time licking a stripe up all the way to my clit before wrapping his puffy lips around it. My hand flew straight to his beautiful head full of white hair. This only encouraged him to suck on my clit before releasing and placing a kiss on it before moving by down to lap at my entrance.
“S-Satoru,” I moaned out forcing my head back in pleasure. The hum of contempt send vibrations through my pussy causing my thighs to tighten around his head. He pushed forward and used his hands to spread my legs apart.
I looked down and the sight nearly made me cum on my own, Satoru's blue eyes were staring right up at me and instead of his wide ones, I was met with half lidded and dazed blue eyes. The tip of his nose was glistening under the living room light and his hair was moving as his head was shaking side to side with his tongue landing on my clit each time.
I forced my other hand onto his head in attempt to push him into me further. He showed no interest in backing away as he continued to suck and lap at my clit and folds. The ludicrous sounds echoed through the mostly empty apartment and the tightening in my belly pulled me back down to Satoru, “T-Toru..hng…I’m gonna cum—please, p-please let me cum.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” The vibrations from his sweet voice sent me over the edge as the grip on his hair only tightened and I attempted to push his head away so I wouldn’t be overstimulated, he however had other plans.
He retreated his lips from my throbbing clit with a pop and looked up at me as he inserted a finger through my hole. I gasped and looked down at him and he grinned at the sight of the flushed look on my face. “Toru,” I whined which only made him shush me, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you feel real good again, okay?”
I could only nod as I felt another finger join inside me. He smirked and began pushing them in and out at a steady pace making me gasp, “D-don’t stop, Toru,” he hummed in response and I felt the familiar warm lips wrap around my clit once more as the pace of his fingers sped up and began curling upwards inside of me.
I tried to mask the lewd moans coming out of my lips by placing my hands over my mouth. Another pop was heard and his lips were off of my and now frowning, “Don’t do that. Let the neighbors know how good I make you feel, scream if you have to,” he muttered the last part with a smirk before diving back in to lap at my pussy.
His words encouraged me to place the hand that was once over my mouth and into his head once again. Soon, I felt the feeling coming back again only this time, it nearly burned and caused my body to twitch against him. “T-Toru wait—there’s something—ah!”
I threw my head back as he pulled away slightly with an open mouth while his fingers continued to fuck me. The moans I let out sounded almost like screams of pleasure. Coming down from that high I looked down feeling my body and my legs trembling at Satoru.
His face was now covered in my juices and his hair was slightly damp. I blushed in embarrassment as his eyes looked up at me, sparkling. “I think I just came in my pants,” he admitted causing my eyes to widen as I spread my legs to look down.
Sure enough there was a stain in them, but it didn’t look like he was soft or getting softer. “If you’re alright with it, I don’t have a condom and I’d like to fuck the shit out of you,” my mouth gapped at his forwardness. After a couple of second of him smiling at me I spoke up, “Y-yes, I’m not on birth control and I’m clean so…”
His smile only grew, “I’m clean too!” Before I knew it, he was helping me take off my shirt and pulling his pants down along with his underwear. His eyes immediately flew to my chest and he lean forward to kiss the skin on my neck, littered with bruises now showing.
My eyes widened at his length. I had been with men, sure, but him? His dick was hard which caused it to stand up in the air with a slight curve upwards. It was lengthy just like he was—if I had to guess, 8 inches? He also had girth to him, it wasn’t huge but it was definitely big enough to hurt.
I felt his dick rub against my thigh as his lips trailed down to my chest. He reached an arm around to unclip the bra and pull it away. I could feel him twitch in excitement again as he watched my breasts fall free, the buds hardening at the coolness of the room.
I then felt his familiar wet and hard tongue drag around my nipple causing me to let out a soft moan and his eyes shot up to me. He smirked and used his other hand to pinch and roll the bud while his lips wrapped around the other causing my back to arch into him and his touch.
“T-Toru,” a hand flew to his head and ran from the nape of his neck to the top of his head and I felt him twitch against me again. “Hmm~” he moaned against me. “Please… please fuck me,” his eyes stayed on me and he lightly nibbled on my bud, then I felt him twitch against me again with his eyes closed.
Releasing my nipple with a pop he brought his hands to hook around my legs, spreading them apart as he bent his slightly to angle himself. The height of the desk was perfect for this exact reason.
I felt his warm tip trace up and down my slit causing me to whine, “Don’t tease Toru~ please…” he only grinned and lean forward to catch my lips in a kiss.
Then I felt it, he slowly entered inside of my causing my body to shift in slight discomfort. He groaned and wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. Once he was in fully, bottoming me out, did he release the kiss.
“I knew you’d be mine the second I laid eyes on your pretty body,” the words would sound disgusting and rude if they weren’t coming from the most beautiful man known to man. That and his intentions. I bit my lip and earned him to move with my legs wrapped around him pushing him against me even closer.
He chuckled softly and lean forward to place one hand at the edge of the desk while his other held me up. I glanced down at the veins on his arms before pulling his face in for a kiss. He pulled out till his tip was almost out until he pushed back in causing me to moan against his lips.
After getting comfortable and him doing that a few times I whined, “Toru, faster,” he shook his head with a lopsided grin, “You’re such a baby.” I had no time to react to his words as he began to pick up the pace of his hips, snapping forward causing light screeches to come from the desk.
I moaned his name as I wrapped my arms around his neck the feeling of his cock throbbing in my pussy sending shivers through my body. He grunted and moaned in my face wrapping the hand that was holding me now placing it around the bottom of my chin. “Such a pretty pussy, you like that huh? I do~”
The sound of skin slapping echoed through the apartment as well as Satoru’s teases and praises. The grip under my chin releases and now he’s upright, pushing my legs back to fold and places them on his shoulders, not easing up on his thrusts.
The angle causes him to hit that spot causing the familiar feeling to bubble in my chest, “You gonna cum on my cock pretty girl?” He grinned and placed a hand on my pussy before rubbing side to side. I felt my back arch and my moans turned into squeals, “that’s right pretty girl, cum on my cock. You can do it, fuck…” he threw his head back increasing his pace in both his hips and fingers.
After a few seconds of thrashing around I feel myself tightening around him and releasing. His hips began stuttering but his hand didn’t stop and soon I felt the same other feeling flow through my body and the sounds of spurting fills the air, joining the symphony of lewd noises.
“Fuck!” I hear a shout from Satoru and he pulls out of my overstimulated pussy. I look down and watch as ropes of thick, hit, white cum shoots onto my pussy, belly, and the bottom of my chest. I take a moment to watch his body, he’s shuttering and shaking in pleasure. His eyes are glued onto my core as he releases.
After a minute of both of us panting and giggling, Satoru steals a kiss before hooking his arms around my legs pulling me into bridal style, walking me into my bedroom. “Where’s your bed,” he asks looking down at me. Shyly, I point to the big box on the other side of the room that had a 2d model of what the bed should look like.
He chuckled and shook his head before walking to the bathroom and placing me in the tub. The aftercare was amazing and dare I say hot. He had taken a bath with me and offered to have me sleepover at his place to which I was too tired to disagree.
So after we clean up and I give him a pair of oversized sweats that were a little too big on me, we made our way across the hall to his apartment. It looked exactly like mine in terms of the layout but the decoration was minimalist with hints of maximalist, in the bedroom was no different. I guess that’s how he knew my layout…
We both got into his king sized( obviously) bed and I felt his arms wrap around me to pull me close to him. “Satoru,” I call him name softly and he replies with a tired hum. “You thought about fucking me,” I question, bringing up a previous sentence he said. This made him burst out in a tired laughter causing my to pull back slightly and look up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s what you took away from all that?”
“I forgot about it…”
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argumate · 5 months
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One thing I wonder about is: If you were designing a financial system from scratch, in 2024, would you come up with banking? That central traditional trick of banks — that they fund themselves with safe short-term demand deposits, and use depositors’ money to invest in risky longer-term loans, with all of the run risk and regulatory supervision and It’s a Wonderful Life-ness that that involves — would you recreate that if you were starting over?
Part of me feels like, if you started a new civilization and put smart but ahistorical tech people in charge of designing a financial system, it would never occur to them to recreate traditional banking. It is so messy and opaque and imprecise, using a shifting pile of demand deposits to fund long-term loans. Plenty of people — insurance companies, retirement savers — want to earn a return on their money and don’t need it anytime soon; their money can be locked up in long-term loans. The money that people keep in the bank just to pay rent and buy sandwiches doesn’t need to be pooled and invested in risky loans; it should just sit in the vault.
This idea — that bank deposits should just sit in the vault (or, realistically, in electronic money at the Federal Reserve), while risky loans should be funded by long-term investors who intend to take those risks — is sometimes called “narrow banking.” It has a long intellectual pedigree, it came back into vogue after the 2008 financial crisis, and it got attention again after last spring’s US regional banking crisis. All those crises! The traditional business of banking is necessarily crisis-prone; using risky long-term loans to back risk-free short-term demand deposits involves a fundamental mismatch, and every so often that flares up into a crisis.
And so, since 2008, but more visibly since last spring, banking really has become narrower. Private credit is the lending side of “narrow banking”: Private credit firms raise dedicated funds, with locked-up money, from investors who intend to invest in long-term loans to earn a return. And private credit is the hottest area of finance, making buyout loans and investment-grade corporate loans and funding consumer loans. And private credit is booming not just as a competitor to banks, but as a funding source for banks: Banks have the relationships and technology to make loans, but not the money, so they partner with private credit to fund the loans.
Meanwhile the deposit side of “narrow banking” is something like banks taking their customers’ money and parking it at the Federal Reserve. And in fact some money has shifted out of banks (which are not narrow) and into government money-market funds (which park the money in Fed repo or Treasury bills). Even within banks, there is less lending.
...
That’s narrow banking. I admit I have a certain emotional soft spot for traditional banking. There is something magical about how banking transmutes risky assets (loans) into risk-free liabilities (deposits). “A banking system is a superposition of fraud and genius that interposes itself between investors and entrepreneurs,” wrote Steve Randy Waldman in 2011; it allows society to use the money of risk-averse depositors to fund risky investments in growth. But it is possible that this magic no longer works: In a world of financial transparency and fast communications technology and flighty deposits, you can’t really expect to hide the risks of the banking system; you have to fund the loans with people who know they’re funding the loans.
I will say, though, that I have also written a lot about crypto over the last few years. Crypto really created a new financial system from scratch, and it started with a very strong philosophical bias against traditional banking. And then it really did recreate traditional banking! And also traditional banking crises: In 2022, it turned out that one of the main uses of crypto was to turn customer demand deposits (of crypto) into extremely risky loans (of crypto), which ended as badly as you’d have expected. “One possibility,” I wrote last year, “is that fractional reserve banking is deeply rooted in human nature.” If you started the financial system over, maybe banking would develop again. Even if actual banking is getting narrower now.
Matt Levine on narrow banking, we talk about this a lot as banks are so fundamental to how our entire civilisation currently functions and yet they're basically just hacks that lurch from crisis to crisis, more evolved than engineered
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highvern · 7 months
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Track 3: Cyber Sex - Doja Cat
“We freak on the cam, love at first sight, just a link to the 'Gram”
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader
Genre: Smut, 18+
Warnings: camgirl!reader, whipped/loser!yunho, flirting, strip tease, cyber sex, butt plug, sir kink
Length: ~900
Note: finally finished. hate it! next is yeo and idk when it'll be posted
Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!
Mixtape Series: Late Nights Masterlist
main masterlist
Connecting imurangel with uknowme…
The black screen buffers into a dark bedroom. Or what you imagine is a bedroom given the layout; posters haphazardly hung on the walls, a basket of laundry off in the background. All warmed with a soft glow of the lamp resting on the bed side table just in the corner of view.
“Hi,” you smile at the camera, observing the man illuminating your screen.
He’s cute. Much cuter than you expected. The few times you auctioned off a private show like tonight you’d been met with men old enough to be your grandfather or guys who’d never seen the inside of a shower stall. But money was money and you put up with it as long as the deposit cleared your bank account. 
User uknowme is already defying your usual expectations. Dimples and a shy grin answer you. His ears burn red already and his lips fail to release any of the words they silently stretch around. 
The twitch of your lips is visible in your viewfinder; a genuine smile at his nerves before you throw him a bone. “What's your name, cutie?” 
“Ugh… it's Yunho. I’m Yunho.”
You roll the letters around your tongue, “Yunho.”
The speakers echo his sharp inhale at the sound of you tasting his name. 
Leaning back on your hands, you press your chest forward and draw attention to the low cut of your top. He specified this outfit, or at least some version of it. “Whatever you’re comfortable in.” Most men want you in some cheap lingerie or a shoddy halloween costume. Easy, simple, straight forward. A nuisance to wear but for what they paid you’d suffer the infernal straps or itchy lace.
But tonight, you stressed more about it than ever before because no one extended such consideration. And that was before you knew who was on the other side of such an innocuous request. The silky white pajama set you settled on at the last minute was perfect. 
At least, Yunho seemed to think so. 
“I..ugh…like your top?”
“Thanks! It's a little different than what I usually get to wear.”
“Yeah, some of the stuff on stream seems like a pain.”
Puckering your lips in a pout, you reply. “You don’t like it?”
“No! I mean yeah I like it I just— you look good no matter what you have on.”
The bumbling nervousness is delicious, especially from someone it seems so out of place on. For the first time, part of you wishes he was in your room. At the mercy of your teasing touches, where you can watch the blush bloom across his face as you goad him; maybe see if it bleeds down his chest as well.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, you’re beautiful.”
Now you blush. No one had this effect on you. At least not in this space where people eagerly shower you in cheap compliments in hopes you’ll reward them with your body. And yes, Yunho did pay for a private show but something about him screams earnesty; like you’re really that pretty to him and he’d be happy to just talk even if you were covered from head to toe with a paper bag over your head.
And it makes you want to surprise him.
“Yunho,” you revel in the way he squirms just from his own name, “do you wanna see the rest of my outfit?”
Yunho nods, eyes tracing the strap of your tank top skating down the curve of your arm. 
Jumping to your feet, you step back in the frame. The satin shorts are just as revealing as any pair of underwear you own. He can glimpse more skin that peaks in and out of view as you give a slow spin; the crease of your thigh, the curve of your ass, and a peak of white lace panties melting against your skin. You can feel Yunho’s eyes take in what you flaunt for him, as if he’s in the room with you and not however many miles away in his own solitude.
“I picked it out for you.” You chime over your shoulder.
The smile on your face is sweet on the surface but sadistic satisfaction runs deep at how so few words fluster him so easily. And his inability to do anything other than provide a choked reply only deepens the ravine.
Cute.
“Do you wanna see the rest of it?”
You're at a proverbial fork in the road. You could take off your top and let Yunho see your bare chest first or you could turn, take off your shorts, and show him the jeweled buttplug he listed as one of his kinks. His reactions make you eager, hungry to see how far you can push him and what you’ll be rewarded with when Yunho reaches his limit.
And the final nail in the coffin, “Sir?”
There's a pause, long enough that you doubt you read the questionnaire right. But Yunho brings himself back up to speed in no time.
Leaning forward, his entire demeanor changes. The tips of his ears still burn red but his face morphs into a controlled impassivity. If you examine him close up, you're sure you’d see the remaining anxiety linger just below the surface. Laying in wait to take over at the first misstep. But you aren’t about to let that happen when you’re just starting to get a taste of what hides beneath such a cute face.
“Show me, pretty girl.”
-
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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ironstrange1991 · 1 year
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As Strange As It Seems (Final Part)
+18 Smut
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Pairing: Supreme!Strange, Defender!Strange, Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Y/n tries to navigate the constant quarrels between the Stephens and Supreme decides to impress her with a night she will never forget.
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: Polyamorous relationship dinamics, slight toxic behavior. SMUT: Male domination, narcissistic behavior, exhibitionism, male and female masturbation, oral sex with female receiving, choking, umprotected p in v sex, creampie.
A/N: This chapter got really long, but I didn't want to split it up because I think it only makes sense like this. I'm also sure that the end of this series doesn't mean that we won't have more fics with this reader and the three Stephens because I'm already writing at least three more fics with them. Anyway, have a nice reading ;)
SERIES MASTERLIST
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"It's good to know I can count on you, Strange." Tony Stark said staring through his office panoramic window at the Avengers Tower. "I would have made a similar deal with the others if they were less arrogant."
Stephen chuckled "A problem of all Stephens I’m afraid and I'm definitely not an exception. However, I need to make a living here and you need my help. I don't see why we can't work together."
Stark nodded, taking his seat again and clasping his hands together "Exactly. I'm sorry if I sound nosy, but how do you guys deal with all this? I mean, I wouldn't want to meet another me." He said pointing dramatically to himself chuckling and Stephen caught himself thinking about how the Stark he'd known in his universe was different from that one. The two were physically identical, but the Stark who had worked with Stephen at the Baxter Institute was a bitter man and Stephen could not remember ever seeing him smile. Apparently whatever humor or joy the man had died along with his wife and daughter long before Stephen knew him.
"It's not a pleasant feeling, I can assure you Stark, but I'm grateful to have found a place to call home in this universe. It's more than I could have dreamed of after everything that's happened in my world."
Stark gave a condescending smile "Once again, I'm sorry for your loss."
Stephen sighed getting up "Anyway, I'll need an advance payment. If it’s not a problem for you." He smirked "I have a girl to impress."
Stark nodded raising an eyebrown "Of course. I assume you have a bank account..."
Stephen moved his fingers quickly conjuring a business card and then grabbed a pen from the table and scribbled some numbers on it. "You can deposit here."
Stark agreed "I guarantee you won't be disappointed with the amount." He said extending his hand.
Stephen smiled openly shaking his hand. "Nice doing business with you, Stark."
...
It was Sunday morning and you had just woken up. You patted around the mattress looking for Defender, but he was no longer there. You stretched and let out a small yawn and got up.
The morning was particularly hot, so you showered, brushed your teeth, and left your room. You were reaching the top of the stairs when you heard raised voices coming from below and you hurried down the steps. When you got there you found Stephen and Defender confronting Supreme.
"We don't accept Stark’s money." Stephen practically shouted the words to which Supreme replied in the same tone.
"Yeah, and why is that?"
"Because we have dignity. We don't work for him, and neither should you." Defender pointed.
You stood watching everything from a distance, knowing full well that you shouldn’t intrude.
"Dignity? I've never worked a day in my life without getting paid for it and I'm not going to start doing it now. I don't care if it’s the government or a billionaire who will pay me. I'm going to work for that money and with that I intend to save some lives. It's a good deal."
Stephen chuckled nervously, both hands on his hips "You certainly don't expect us to believe you're interested in saving lives, right? If that were the case, you should have started saving the lives of the people in your universe."
You felt those words. And you knew that Supreme had felt them a lot more. He clenched his fists "You shouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about, Strange."
"Doctor..." Defender called trying to calm Stephen.
"No, Defender, he's right. We don't know, do we?" Stephen answered and then turned back to Supreme "Why don't you tell us? What happened to your universe, Supreme? What happened to your fucking fingers?"
You knew you shouldn't interfere, but when you saw it, you were already between the two Stephens, right in the eye of the hurricane. Both your hands pressed against Supreme's chest who threatened to go for Stephen.
"Stop it. Now!" You yelled at them. "What the fuck do you think you're doing fighting like that?"
Supreme took a step back, but pointed his finger at Stephen’s face. When he spoke again his voice was slightly lower but sounded even more dangerous. "You are not going to talk about my universe or my fingers ever again, or I'm going to fucking kill you."
You stared at him totally suprised by his words, but didn't say anything. Stephen didn't answer either. Defender watched the scene, but didn't interfere again.
Supreme glanced at you. "I'm going to work for this money. It's mine and I'm going to earn it. That's dignity."
He left the room and slammed the front door leaving the Sanctum.
...
After what happened, you wondered how it was possible to make that deal work. It was clearly different this time. You didn't have answers to that question, you just had to move forward and force things to work out one way or another. What was the other option? You wouldn't give up any of them. It was irrational, but you loved all three of them equally, even though you had so little time with Supreme.
A week had passed since the argument between them and it was Sunday again. You woke up long before the sun came up. Defender was sleeping in his stomach, his face turned towards you. One arm under the pillow, his hair covering his face. You smiled to yourself and gently brush his hair back so you could actually see his face. God, Stephen was so handsome. When they slept, they looked so peaceful, their faces relaxed and there was no sign of worry.
You sighed still admiring him, then got up slowly being careful not to wake him up. You put on your night gown and went downstairs deciding there was no point in trying to sleep. There was so much on your mind, but one specific thing was killing you: You missed talking to Supreme. Since the night you first kissed, you haven't had any time together. He had worked all week.
The day before he had come home with blood in his robes and cuts on his face and you didn't even know what had happened to him and you worried about him as much as you worried about Stephen and Defender except that when it was one of your Stephens that came home injuried you could take care of them and last night you couldn't take care of Supreme and it broke your heart.
You were completely lost in your own thoughts when you heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Stephen was walking straight through the living room when he noticed you sitting in the armchair.
"Sweetheart?" He walked towards you "Why are you awake?"
You smiled "I lost sleep." You took his hand. "You apparently didn't even sleep."
He smirked "Actually I slept for about two hours."
"Wow. Must be some kind of record."
"I sleep better when you're in bed with me." He admitted pulling you to your feet and then sat down on the couch and made you sit on his lap. He caressed your hair in silence for a few seconds then exhaled heavily. "I was think about you."
You smiled "What were you thinking about?"
"That I owe you an apology."
You glanced at him wrapping your arm around his neck. "Why?"
"For that ridiculous scene with Supreme last week."
You did not answer.
"I know I've said more than I should, but he surely deserved..."
"Why is it so absurd for him to work with Tony? Tony needs all the help he can get and you and Defender aren't exactly helpful when he asks for help."
Stephen stared at you in disbelief "I help the Avengers as much as I can."
"I know, but is it really so bad that Supreme works with him? I can think of at least two reasons why that would be a good thing."
Stephen sighed "And what would they be?"
You rested your forehead on his. "He will help the Avengers save innocent people and with that you and Defender will have more free time for me."
Stephen smiled "Well..."
"And he will feel better having a role in this world. This was important for Defender, It’s important for Supreme as well."
Stephen nodded "I think you're right, as usual. Anyway, I'm sorry sweetheart. It was an unpleasant scene."
You kissed his lips softly "It's not me you should apologize to, Stephen. You said absurd things to him."
Stephen rolled his lips "I'm not going to apologize for what I said."
You sighed. "Stephen, how can our agreement work if you guys keep fighting like this?"
He did not answer.
"I'm walking on eggshells here, afraid to upset you, afraid to upset Defender, but it's been over a week since Supreme and I have talked and we've even had time to spend together."
Stephen smirked "So you and him didn’t..."
"How could we? Not exactly complaining, but you and Defender have been taking up all my time."
He smirked "That was the idea. I want him to know you're ours."
"He knows that. You don't have to give me hickeys for that, Stephen. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm his too, isn't that right?"
Stephen sighed "Yeah, I think so."
You cupped his face making him look at you "You will always be my Stephen. My first Stephen. You know me better than any of them. No need to be jealous."
"Don't ask me not to be jealous of you, sweetheart. This is something I can't control."
You kissed his lips deeply.
"But you need to control your temper and stop arguing with Supreme all the time."
He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off "Don't worry, I'll tell him the same thing."
Stephen nodded letting out a heavy sigh. "I'll try."
You smiled and pinched his cheek teasingly "Good boy."
"That's not what you call me when I'm fucking you." He teased with a raised eyebrown.
You opened your mouth to respond, but he kissed you instead, his tongue dominating yours as usual. You moaned into his lips and he hummed satisfied.
You were cuddling on the couch long enough for the sun to come up and you didn't realize you had dozed off in his arms until you woke up hearing voices in the living room. Stephen had also slept and you found yourself admiring him just as you did hours ago with Defender. They were so beautiful that looking at them like that took your breath away.
The voices of Supreme and Defender talking brought you out of your contemplation state and you rubbed your hands over your face trying to ward off sleep. The voices drifted towards the kitchen and you found yourself smiling as you noticed they were talking instead of fighting.
You adjusted yourself in Stephen's arms and went back to laying your head against his chest trying to pay attention to what the two were saying. Something related to a car, but you couldn't hear everything.
Maybe things could work out after all.
...
"So how are things at home now that Supreme has moved back to the Sanctum?" Natasha asked sipping her coffee.
Nat and Yelena had invited you to a coffee shop after work and you had agreed, eager to chat and being able to distracted yourself from your problems. The day had been tiring and although you had managed to escape earlier, it was still 4pm, you could feel the tiredness getting the best of you.
"I didn't know he was back" Yelena said in surprise "Didn't you say that the Stephens had banished him to the Kamar Taj?"
You nodded looking around at the cars rushing down the street. The day was particularly hot so you decided to sit at one of the tables set out on the sidewalk. "He came back two weeks ago and I'm happy to have him back."
"Do you think the other Stephens are happy too?" Natasha glanced at you through her eyelashes already knowing what your answer would be.
"They fight, a lot, but little by little I'm seeing that they are starting to understand each other better and I am hopeful that everything will be okay between them." You answered sipping your coffee again. It was bitter than you would prefer, but somehow it fitted your humor.
Nat and Yelena shared a suspicious look but said nothing.
"I hear he's working with Tony now." You said pretending you didn’t notice anything. "How exactly does this work?"
Natasha frowned "He didn't tell you?"
You shook your head "We haven't had a lot of alone time the last few days. I'm trying to fix this, but he's been working most of the time, so..."
"So you guys are together like really together?" Nat questioned to which you nodded with a shy smile.
"Damn girl, you're so greedy. Three Stephens?!" Yelena pointed out.
Voce let out a small chuckle. "It's not my fault, I can't help it."
Yelena rested her chin on her hand answering your question "He's an ass, but he's been really helpful, unlike your other boyfriends."
"Stephen and Defender help when they can. They have more to do than help the Avengers."
Nat rolled her lips "That's why Tony offered Supreme an exorbitant amount and he accepted. Clearly he's different from the others. He's been working as a sort of magical consultant."
"Why does Tony need a magical consultant?"
It was Yelena who replied "Since Thanos, Tony has been obsessed with the idea of ​​protecting the world against possible magical threats and Supreme provides him ideas and power to do so."
 "I guess it's a good thing after all. We need a sorcerer." Nat completed. "I just wish we'd gotten the least intolerable of them, if such a thing exists between Stephens Stranges." She said with a smirk clearly teasing you.
"Defender is the Stephen you wanted" You stated. "Unfortunately, Wong keeps him at the Kamar Taj most of the time."
"That's what I heard." Nat said.
You sighed. "Anyway, Stephen wasn't happy to find out that Supreme was working with Tony, but I managed to calm them down." You looked inside your empty cup "It seems my role now is to be a conciliatory force between them. It can be very tiring.”
"That bad?" Yelena asked sympathetic.
"They love you" Nat said trying to comfort you and reaching out to take your hand in hers. "And you love them. It's not a common situation but if you're finding a way to make this work you should be proud."
You forced yourself to smile "You think so?'
Nat nodded and Yelena opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of a car approaching very fast. The black Lamborghini parked right in front of the table you girls were sat at blocking your entire view and Supreme got out of the car slamming the door and coming towards you.
He was wearing black trousers and a navy blue button up shirt, the sleeves purposefully pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veined forearms. Hair carefully combed to the side, sunglasses on.
You were almost drooling when he walked over taking off his sunglasses and hanging them on the collar of his shirt.
"Hello girls" He greeted and then bent down to place a kiss on your lips. "I went to the office, but they told me you had already left."
"How did you know I was here?" You asked still stunned by his glorious presence.
He smirked "Simple tracking spell."
"Creepy" Nat replied, causing his smirk to turn into that beautiful open smile that you loved.
You just nodded, still staring and trying to convince yourself how a man could be so handsome.
"I came to evite you to dinner tonight. I made reservations at the best restaurant in town and" He waved his hands in an exaggerated gesture and a long black velvet box appeared in the air. He gave it to you. "I bought this for you, I want you to wear it tonight. Maybe with something…blue?"
You opened the box to find a necklace of diamonds and sapphires. Your mouth fell open.
Nat and Yelena exchanged glances but remained silent.
"So?" He pressed.
You looked at him still with your mouth open "Stephen this is beautiful… and terribly expensive."
His smile widened even more like somehow he understood what you said as a compliment. "You liked it then."
You nodded "Yes, yes of course." You were speechless.
Although you had a comfortable life with Stephen and Defender, you weren't used to that level of luxury. Stephen always provided for you, but money was always tight and he was always extremely proud. Both were. A jewel like that was something you never dreamed of getting in your life.
"Dinner then, 7pm" He confirmed to you and you just nodded again.
He grabbed your chin and kissed you, this time with more tongue and saliva, definitely an inappropriate kiss for where you were, even more so when you knew all eyes were on you. But Stephen seemed to like it.
"See you tonight, honey." He said pulling away and putting his sunglasses back on. "See you at work, girls." He said waving goodbye at Nat and Yelena and then got in his car and screeched away.
"And you still wonder why the other Stephens don't like him?!" Yelena said.
"He can be annoying, but we can't deny that wealth has suited him very well" Natasha completed.
...
You were in your own room at the Sanctum, sitting at the vanity table finishing up your makeup. You had chosen a blue dress that you had bought to wear at one of Tony's parties, but ended up not wearing on the occasion because the night was too cold for a dress completely open in the back. It was long with a slit that went up to thigh height. You chose black stilettos to complete the look and simple makeup. You weren't a fan of heavy makeup, usually you prepared your skin well and finished it off with eyeliner, blush and lipstick. You rarely wore eyeshadow.
You had your hair up in a neat bun and were putting on your earrings when you heard a soft knock on the door.
"Come in"
Defender entered and approached stopping right behind you. "You're going out...with Supreme I presume."
You turned to look at him. "He invited me to dinner and I accepted."
He tried to smile, but you could see in his face that the idea didn't sit well with him.
"I know I need to learn to share you, but now I understand how difficult it was for Stephen when we had our first date."
You got up and cupped his face "He said it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life and I always feel so guilty for breaking your hearts like that."
He held your hand to his face "You are a remarkable woman, any Stephen who has the opportunity to take you on a date is a lucky man."
"And I am the luckiest woman ever." You kissed him softly and then turned around and opened the drawer taking the gift Supreme gave you. You opened the box and took the necklace.
"Allow me" Stephen said holding out his hand. You placed the necklace in his hands and watched through the mirror the admiring way he looked at the jewel. He didn't say anything though, just wrapped his arms around your shoulders and closed the jewel with some difficulty.
You turned back to him.
"You look beautiful."
You smiled and held his hand tight in yours. "I love you, Defender Strange."
He cupped your face "And I love you, baby." He kissed you softly one more time and then tried his best to smile. "Now, enjoy your evening."
...
Supreme drove very fast. Much faster than you would expect for someone who has been traumatized by a car accident.
You found yourself admiring the car's interior, but what you liked most was the smell. The mix of leather and metal mixed with the cologne he wore and the cigarette smell you hated to admit but loved.
He was attentive to the avenue you were going down, his eyes fixed straight ahead, but you couldn't pay attention to the path, your eyes couldn't deviate from him. Handsome, beautiful, gorgeous in a black suit and white shirt, his hair carefully combed and the slightly red of his skin fresh shaved. You could stare at him all night, but you doubted the admiration would wear off.
When he parked in front of the restaurant, he came around to open the door for you and tossed the car keys to the valet. His arm quickly wrapped around your waist and he ushered you inside. You were received by an extremely elegant man who kindly took you to a table arranged in the best place in the large and sophisticated hall. A crystal chandelier completed the elegance of the place and a group of violinists played in the background.
"The wine you ordered, the menu, sparkling water and lemon and a private waiter to serve you however you wish." The man reported when you sat down. "I hope everything is up to your requirements, sir."
Stephen nodded "It's Doctor, actually. Everything seems perfect."
The man gestured to a waiter who immediately approached, "This is Augusto. He will attend to you tonight."
Stephen nodded and man left. You smiled sympathetically to Augusto who was still standing waiting for instructions. Stephen then waved his hands indicating that he could leave as well.
"So? What do you think?" He asked gesturing around and opening the wine and pouring the two glasses. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply.
You smirked "It's nice."
He took a sip of the wine and smiled almost offended. "Nice?"
He clearly hoped to impress you that night.
You looked around at the tables filled with people so elegant that you wondered if your dress wasn't too simple for the occasion. "Too fancy, don't you think?"
His smile widened as if your statement was the compliment he'd been waiting for. "Never."
...
Stephen smiled, wiping his lips on his napkin and reveling in your presence. He was still learning how he felt about you, but he knew he loved hearing you talk, about anything, but especially about yourself. He knew so little about you, he felt in terrible disadvantage with the other Stephens, which is why he had you talking about yourself all night.
You had just ordered dessert when you engaged in a long explanation of why you wouldn't quit your job even though you were clearly tired of it and he heard you nodding and smiling, but basically he just let you talk.
You two seemed to have completely different opinions about a lot of things, but he didn't mind at all. At that moment, for example, he wanted to say that once he got such a good deal with Stark you would never need to work again in your life, but he knew better than that. Besides, he was pretty sure that your work was much more than the money for you.
"Anyway, I enjoy what I do. I'm good with numbers and at work I get the opportunity to get out of the Sanctum and interact with normal people." You said taking a long drink of your sparkling water. "Don't get me wrong, I love the Sanctum, it's my home, but sometimes it's so gloomy and I don't know, I think it's nice to be in a normal environment sometimes."
Exactly as Stephen had thought.
"I'm sorry I'm not part of the select group of normal people you have the opportunity to interact with." He teased making you chuckle.
"There is nothing ordinary in you Stephens, but I can’t complain, that's what I love about you, you make me feel special and safe."
He reached for your hand and wrapped it in his. "You are safe." He said smiling reassuringly. "But, I wonder if your job isn't also a way to get away from us. I imagine it must be exhausting having to live with the same man under these circumstances."
You vehemently denied "I never get tired of you, and I think I know why.”
“Care to elaborate?”
You shrugged. “ It's like I said, although you're the same person you act different, you think different, you have different tastes in almost everything, you're different persons and that explains why I fell in love with you I guess."
"How so?"
"If Defender and you were just an exact version of Stephen there would be no reason for me to be enchanted by you. It would just be a repetition of what I already know."
Stephen smiled smugly. "It's not the similarities then."
You shook your head "It's the differences."
When you got back to the car, Stephen started to feel a little more anxious than he remembered feeling before when he used to take lots of women in dates. He was out of practice, but much more than that, he was scared because this wasn't just another one of the many one-night stands he was used to having. You mean something to him and that terrified him. It didn’t help that he felt compelled to be better or at least as good as the other Stephens you already knew.
When he took a different path than the one that was supposed to take you back to the Sanctum, he questioned whether he had made the best choice. Perhaps you were more comfortable at home, but on the other hand, you had just told him that you liked being in normal places and there was nothing more normal than a hotel room. Although he was quite satisfied with the chosen room. The question was whether you would like it or not.
He could feel your eyes on him. In fact your eyes had been on him all night and he loved that feeling. It was no secret to Stephen that he liked to be looked at, he took pleasure in it and for that reason he could feel his pants getting tighter around his hips.
He cleared his throat before telling you what his real intentions were for the night.
"Y/n, I made something that I hope you like, well, come to think of it, maybe you will think I was taking for granted that you would want..." He allowed himself deviate his eyes from the road from a split second to look at you and study your expressions. You rolled your lips and the corners of your mouth were curved in a smile. He sighed "I booked a hotel room for us to spend the night, but it's okay if you want to go home..."
You shifted in your seat and he heard your seat belt release and you leaned in to kiss his cheek, your lips made their way to his earlobe and his cock throbbed in his pants with your answer whispered provocatively. "I don't want to go home, Stephen. Take me wherever you want."
...
You shouldn't be surprised to see the size of the hotel room Supreme had booked for you. It was clear he wanted to impress you with all that luxury and you were actually impressed because, aside from the times you've been to the Avengers Tower, you've never been in such a beautiful place, but the truth was, you didn't care as much for that kind of thing as Stephen expected you to and what really did it for you was his presence. Him.
He locked the door behind you and stood silently watching you. The suite was beautiful, luxurious and of a very good taste. It was huge, divided into two ambiences, one of which had a fireplace and a recamier accompanied by two other armchairs and a small coffee table in the Victorian style. The other was where the huge king size bed was, accompanied by two nightstands and a bedroom bench at the foot of the bed.
"So... what do you think?" He asked and you smiled a little shyly. "It's perfect."
He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"You have no idea how I've waited for this moment. To finally being able to be alone with you. To do whatever I want to you.”
He took your hand and placed it on his chest, you could feel his heart beating as fast as yours. "You asked me before if I missed you when I was away, the honest answer is I've never missed anyone more in my entire life. It was almost a physical pain and when I'm around you... this is how my body responds."
You took his hand and placed it on your chest. "I know how you feel because I feel the same. I want this, Stephen. I've wanted this for a long time."
He grabbed you by the back of your head and pulled you to his lips, but this time the kiss wasn't gentle like the first kiss your shared, it was big and wet and desperate. A clash of tongues and teeth that drew a loud moan from deep in your throat, which seemed to goad him even further.
He lowered the hand that was at your waist grabbing your ass cheek and squeezing it, pulling you closer, rubbing you against his hip making you feel his hard on.
You pushed him against the wall, your two hands gripping the collar of his suit jacket pulling it down his shoulders. He let you take it off and you started undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, but then he grabbed your wrists and pinned you against the wall. He grabbed your chin making you look at him and went back to kiss you. Your hands continued your work of freeing him from his shirt and then moved down to his belt, unbuckling it.
Stephen lowered his lips to your neck, tracing the skin with the tip of his tongue, kissing, biting and sucking on your skin. He kept running his lips down your cleavage, he bit your breasts lightly and kept his mouth down your belly, kneeling in front of you and lifting your dress, taking off your panties. He made you hold your dress up for him and pulled you closer, wrapping your legs around his shoulders and diving between them. You leaned against the wall to keep your balance and threw your head back closing your eyes and surrendering to the feel of his lips and tongue ravishing you.
You've wondered many times how his smooth face would feel between your legs and the answer was heaven. It felt like you had died and gone straight to heaven. He knew exactly what he was doing and he wasted no time, his mouth never left your clit, sucking it with the exact intensity that made you see stars and you couldn't help it, your body seemed to have a mind of its own and your hips started to move, rubbing yourself against his face to get the maximum amount of friction.
"Fuck..." You tugged at his hair as hard as you could and he groaned with the sensation, but proceeded to eat you with even more ferocity. "Stephen, you're going to make me cum."
He just hummed and continued without ever getting his fill until you were squirming, your moans so loud you wondered if anyone could hear them, but he wasn't worried, on the contrary, you were pretty sure he wished the whole world could hear you.
"Stephen..." He wouldn't listen to you until he got exactly what he wanted. You let out a choked scream and came in his mouth, your entire body shaking with the force of your release. He licked you, savoring your release, drinking all your juices like a thirsty man. When he finally was satisfied he got up and turned you over, face against the wall.
You heard him unbutton his pants and unzip them. He held your hand flat on the wall and lifted your dress. He spat into his hand and brought the saliva to your slit and with a single thrust entered you to which you both moaned loudly.
He bit down on your shoulder in surrender to his own pleasure and thrusted into you with a force that caught you by surprise. You didn't know what to expect from Supreme, but you definitely didn't imagine that. However, you couldn't say you weren't enjoying the violent way he was fucking you. It was different and different was everything you wanted him to be.
"Fuck honey, look how good you take it. You like this, don't you?" He teased. His hand on your hip pressed so tight to your skin you knew it would leave marks, but you were sure that was what he wanted.
"Fuck yes... feels good." You managed to say through your groans.
He let go of your hand and grabbed your neck squeezing slowly but enough to make you gasp in surprise, but at the same time your hips moved against his thrusts wanting him to fuck you harder.
He got the message, his hands tightened around your neck, choking you.
"You like this, I can see it. Tell me what you want."
You tried to grab his hand that was firm around your waist, but he grabbed your hand and pinned it against the wall again, thrusting hard into you. His face nuzzling yours, his mouth on your skin teasing you. "Let go for me, honey. I'm in control, all you have to do is submit."
Voce moaned loudly totally caught in his web of lust. "Harder." You begged.
And harder he fucked you. You were surprised at yourself, you never thought you could surrender so easily, but there you were completely at his mercy and oh he loved it. You could feel know good you were making him feel, he was pulsing inside you and his hand tightened on your throat.
"S-Stephen... I need to breathe." You asked when the grip of his hand became almost unbearable. He let go just a bit and you felt the air rushing back into your lungs and your whole body shaking, the knot deep in your stomach threatening to break, your pussy tightening around him, your walls fluttering.
"Don't hold back, give it to me." He demanded pounding into you with such force your whole body shook.
"Want you to cum too."
He let out a noise that was somehow a moan and a chuckle at the same time. You shivered. "Want to make me cum, uh? I’m almost there. Now do as I told you."
Voce let go of the little control you still had of your body and surrendered to the feeling, his thrusts got faster, his breathing got more irregular in your ear, his hand wrapped around your neck choked you harder and you came with a plea. “Please, Stephen, please.”
And because you were so good to him, he granted your request cuming hard spurting his warm cum inside you with a groan right in your ear.
"Now you're mine too." He whispered in your ear and pulled out.
...
Stephen went to the coffee table where there was an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne as he had requested. He opened the bottle and poured two glasses and handed it to you. You were panting, your makeup was ruined, your hair was disheveled, your dress was all wrinkled and he knew his cum was running down your thighs, but you've never looked more beautiful in his eyes. You gazed at him in silence and then took a long drink of your champagne, he did the same, and then pulled you to his lips. You kissed him passionately, an equally passionate little moan escaping your lips.
Stephen could hardly believe that you were there with him, that this was real and even though he had just cum, he was hard again, in fact he didn't even soften.
"I'm going to fill the bathtub, I'll be right back." He said walking away towards the bathroom. He didn't take long to come back, but when he did he found you quickly typing on your cell phone. Stephen wasn't sure why, but he felt an enormous discomfort about it. A twinge of jealousy that was more like a snakebite.
"I thought tonight was mine. It's one of your rules, isn't it?" He didn't even try to hide the bitter tone in his voice.
You put your cell phone quickly in your purse and went back to pick up your glass from the table and smiled shyly. You were barefoot now. Your shoes thrown to the corner of the wall. "I needed to let Stephen know. He'd be worried if I didn't. I don't usually spend the night out."
He nodded. He knew you were probably right, but he still wished you hadn't done it.
"He can't go one night without you, huh?"
You shook your head "It's not that, he would just be worried, he might think something happened."
"He knows you're with me, doesn't he?"
You nodded.
"Then he would be a fool to think I would let something happen to you."
You chewed on your lip clearly understanding that you made him upset. "Stephen, it's okay. He's not here right now. It's just you and me."
He sighed letting go and held his hand out to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist. "I swear, I can't control how I feel about you. It makes me mad." He confessed kissing your lips softly.
"I'm here. I'm yours."
He smiled smugly and kissed your neck teasing you. "You're right honey Come on, let's take a bath together."
He helped you undress and got rid of his pants and boxers, and you finally got into the tub. It was a big round tub, the water was hot and there were a lot of foam. The scent of lavender was inviting and comforting.
"This feels so good." You praised, resting your head on the leather pillow and closing your eyes for a moment. He took the time to admire you. Your hair was still tied back in a bun, but now there were several loose strands falling across your face. Your face was slightly flushed and your lips were red and swollen. You were so beautiful.
The bathtub was big enough to fit the two of you side by side comfortably, but he couldn't stay away from you. Before you knew it he was between your legs again. He touched your face and you opened your eyes biting your lower lip. He caressed your cheek, his thumb pressing your lower lip. He kissed you. His tongue snaking inside your mouth, sucking yours in a kiss that screamed sex. He grabbed one of your breasts under the water and squeezed, pinching the nipple hard enough to make you moan into his lips and your hips moved beneath him searching for him, asking for what was right there.
"You want it so much, don't you?" He teased nibbling your ear lobe. He held you by the neck, but he didn't squeeze, he just left his hand there. "I think you like when I hold you like this."
You nodded biting your lip and giving him your most innocent gaze, but a mischievous smile played at the corner of your lips.
"Oh honey, I'm going to fucking ruin you."
He reached between you and directed his cock toward your entrance and felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. You were so tight and so warm. Stephen never thought much of the concept of home, but there between your legs, inside you, he felt he had found his home and like an addict, once he had tasted it, he could no longer imagine his life without it.
Your hands slid down his back and cupped his ass cheeks as you shamelessly moved to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your moans got louder as you let go and he loved hearing the sound of them.
"Oh Stephen..." His name falling from your lips in that context was so deliciously inviting.
"Open your eyes, honey, look at me." He cupped your chin and placed a desperate kiss on your lips, his other hand resting on the edge of the tub, water spilling over the sides and making a mess, but he couldn't care less. "Tell me how good it feels."
"Feels good, Stephen. You're fucking me so good. Your cock feels amazing, so big."
He grinned  "Yeah? Cock feels amazing inside your pussy?"
You nodded.
"I know, you are taking me so well. Pussy feels amazing, honey."
Stephen buried his face in your neck and increased his pace, your legs intertwined behind his back and your nails biting into his skin. He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock and your moans turned into sweet pleas for more. Faster, harder, more of his cock, more of him.
"Fuck, you're gonna cum already? You're so easy to please, honey."
You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out and he kissed you passionately "It's okay, I'm here, I'm gonna make you cum."
He put one hand between you and started rubbing your clit as you moaned loudly.
"Yes, yes, Stephen, right there."
Stephen could feel his body on the edge. His balls were swollen and starting to tighten, his cock was pulsing violently inside you and when you came your walls clenched around him so hard it was humanly impossible to resist.
"S-Stephen" You sobbed in the midst of your climax, your eyes closing instinctively.
"No, no, look at me, I wanna see you. You look so beautiful, so perfect. I'm gonna cum too, can you feel it?"
You nodded obligingly. "Oh, fuck honey... take it." He sank his teeth into your shoulder letting himself be carried away by the euphoria of his orgasm. You two ended up panting, gasping for air and kissing desperately.
...
You were lying facing each other in the bathtub. Your feet were on Stephen's chest and he was absently massaging one of them. Your body felt like jelly. Time seemed to have stopped, the world outside that hotel room seemed not to exist.
"Can I ask you something?" You asked. You were looking at him for some time in silence, admiring his absurd beauty, the wet hair he sloppily brushed back with his hand, the broad shoulders. Your face was rested lazily on one of your hands.
"Anything." He answered.
You smiled "You told me earlier that you were out of practice. How long has it been since you…?"
He didn't seem surprised by the question. "Since I got here. Well, a little longer." He shrugged.
"Not exactly a long time."
He disagreed "To me it's an absurd amount of time."
You chuckled, poking his chest with your foot, teasing him. "That's the difference between men and women. For men sex is a necessity, for women it's a choice."
He grabbed your foot and bit your toe, making you laugh.
"What's the longest you've gone without sex?" He asked.
You thought for a moment, without coming up with an exact answer. "Well, before I met Stephen...a couple of years I think."
He stared in disbelief. "How..."
You shrugged, "I never needed it that much. It's safe to say that I was never very sexually active before Stephen. Probably because men my age are disappointing."
He thought for a moment. "It occured to me now that I don't know your age."
"29."
"Really?"
"Why the surprise, do I look older?"
He smirked. "No. Of course not. It's just that I never thought about it. So, you and Stephen... how old were you when you met him?"
“I've been with him for 4 years. I was 25."
Stephen let out a low whistle. "It's a huge age gap. Don't you think?"
You shook your head. "I like it. Like I said, men my age are disappointing. Thinkin now, I wonder if the three of you are exactly the same age."
He smirked. "I am 45."
You nodded "Stephen is 45."
"Defender must be older. He looks older. "
You vehemently denied it. "Of course not. It's the beard."
He rolled his lips, probably holding back from saying anything that would provoke you. "So you think I look younger than I am since I don't have a beard or that hideous goatee?"
You poked him with your foot again. Supreme was annoying, cocky, and there was definitely a streak of narcissism in him, but you kind of liked that. "Yeah, a little."
When you finally managed to untangle yourself from each other to get out of the tub, you dressed in one of the hotel's robes neatly folded in the cupboard under the sink. The plush, soft fabric smelled fresh and inviting. Stephen wrapped a towel around his waist and busied himself with brushing his teeth and applying some deodorant. You stood there admiring him. "You don't even make an effort to look beautiful, it comes naturally to you. Isn’t it?"
He grinned, clearly pleased with the compliment and walked over to pinning you against the wall. "Careful, I really like to be praised, it does things to me and then I'll have to do things to you." He threatened, tracing the collar of your robe with his index finger.
You made the most innocent face you could muster. "And what kind of things would those be?"
He smirked and in one swift movement he scooped you up and you crossed your legs behind his back giggling as he carried you across the room. He laid you down on the bed and you patted the mattress biting your bottom lip to tease him.
"Come here."
But he seemed to think twice and denied moving away from you. With a gesture of his fingers the armchair that was near the fireplace slid across the floor stopping at the foot of the bed. He rummaged in his suit jacket that was neatly laid out on the bedroom bench and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He took one and lit it quickly and then sat in the armchair and gave you a leering look. "Come on, honey. Let me see you."
You feigned confusion "But you are seeing me."
He raised an eyebrow "Take off that robe and spread your legs for me."
You chewed on your lip and shook your head stubbornly.
"Keep this attitude and I promise I won't let you cum when you ask me."
You pouted but nodded, untying your robe and letting it slide off your shoulders. You propped yourself back up on one of your arms and opened your legs for him.
He smirked satisfied taking a drag on the cigarette and then exhaling the smoke slowly through his nostrils "Beautiful. Now touch yourself for me."
You felt your face blushing. You had never done that. Of course, you had already touched yourself while Stephen was fucking you, but it was different. What Supreme wanted was just to watch you while you did it without taking part in it. It looked so pornographic. "I... I don't know Stephen..."
"Do as I say." His voice retained a tone of order that you didn't dare disobey.
You closed your eyes and began circling your clit with your fingers gently, testing the water to see how you would feel, but Stephen wasn't in the patience to wait.
"Open your eyes, honey. Fuck yourself on your fingers. Give me a show."
You opened your eyes and brought your index and ring fingers to your mouth and then thrusted them deep into your pussy, but you weren't having any of it, your shyness getting in the way.
Stephen took a long drag on his cigarette and then sighed making it disappear with a subtle movement of his fingers. "I think you need an incentive." He said pulling the towel from his waist and letting it fall to the floor. He stood there completely bare for you, his cock hard as a rock curved deliciously to his abdomen, the veins bulging, the tip a deep pink, almost red.
"Like what you see?" he asked in such a cocky tone you would have rolled your eyes if you hadn't been completely intoxicated by the sight of him looking that good right in front of you. Stephen gave you a cocky smile. He clearly had no problem getting naked in front of you, in fact you were pretty sure he loved it and the way you were staring, mouth open in total admiration, only served to inflate his ego even more.
He spat on his cock head and spread the saliva slowly starting to pump his cock while keeping eye contact with you the whole time. He was bewitching you like the sorcerer he was, but not using magic, just showing you his perfect body.
His hand movements were slow but had an insistent rhythm.
A low moan escaped his lips. "Come on honey"
You could feel the shyness disappearing and giving way to desire. Your fingers began to move in and out of your pussy as you were coaxed by the filth words that easily came out of his mouth.
"Just like that, honey, you have such a pretty pussy. Oh yes, finger this pussy for me. Do you think you can get off just looking at me pumping my cock?"
You let out a moan, your head nodding to his question.
"Yeah, just like that? Such a good girl doing as she's told." His voice was cut off by a long moan and he increased his pace for an instant, but then stopped, holding his cock by the base. "Look at it, honey. So fucking hard and pulsing just for you."
You took your fingers out of your pussy only to spit into your hand and drive the saliva back down your entrance, fucking yourself with your fingers. The loud, wet noise only added to your pleasure.. You could feel that you were close. "Fuck Stephen..."
He smirked, his cock throbbing violently now that it was being neglected. He clearly didn't want to come before you did. "Tell me how much you want it."
Your voice sounded shaky when you answered. "S-So much. I want it so much, Stephen."
He bit his bottom lip "You'll have it, but first, let me see you cum."
You nodded obediently, increasing the pace of your fingers. "Stephen, I need to see..."
"Need to see me jerking off? That will make you cum?"
"Y-Yes."
He grinned, spat into his palm and went back to pump his cock nice and hard. The obscenity of the scene added to the wet sounds that the friction of his hand on his cock made was what did it for you. You felt the knot breaking. Your fingers dipping into your own cum.
Stephen moaned loudly watching the scene and then hurried to you. "Open your mouth for me."
You just did what he said.
He shoved his cock into your mouth, gave a couple of deep thrusts and spilled his warm cum in your mouth. His two hands firmly in your hair keeping you there until he was finished.
He groaned and demanded "Don't swallow it."
You did like you were told and he pulled you to his lips and stuck his tongue in your mouth tasting his own cum with such lust. You moaned loudly into his lips, letting him control the kiss like you let him control everything else, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth.
 When he let go of you he wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand and wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumb making you suck on it afterwards.
Not just your body, but even your mind seemed tired after all the sex you made and Stephen seemed to realize that, because he quickly changed his demeanor and started to treat you with much more affection.
He caressed your cheek and kissed your lips lightly and dedicated himself to cleaning you of all the mess you had made on yourself and helped you to crawl under the comforter and laid next to you on the bed, but contrary to what you expected he didn't pull you to his chest, he just lay there on his side looking at you. His hand sought yours and your fingers intertwined.
"I don't want to be one of those guys who has to ask if the girl liked it, but... Did you... liked it?"
You smiled lazily. He suddenly seemed so unsure about everything.
"I did. Very much."
He nodded and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture felt so intimate, as if the two of you had done it so many times before.
"You're different." You stated.
He lifted his head from the pillow, staring at you "A good different?"
You held his hand and brought it to your lips kissing his palm. He stiffed a bit, but let go when you smiled at him. You kissed each of his blackened fingertips to which he looked surprised and a little uncomfortable, but you continued until you had kissed them all.
"A very good different." You finally answered.
...
You woke up in the morning feeling lost. In place, in time. You looked around at the unfamiliar hotel room and suddenly felt homesick. Whichever room you used to slept in, Stephen's or Defender's, it was certainly much warmer than the irritatingly white walls and sheets that now burned your sensitive eyes. Yet there was one thing there that was warm and felt like home: Stephen.
He was sleeping heavily on his stomach, one of his arms wrapped tight around your waist.
You allowed yourself to admire him for a few seconds before waking him up. His hair was all messed up, a few strands falling over his forehead. You gently set them in place, taking the opportunity to touch his face, tracing his cheekbones and his sharp jaw with your index finger. God, he was so beautiful. When he was sleeping he lose all his arrogance and became exactly like Stephen and Defender. Perhaps that was why you found it so fascinating to watch them sleep, because it was in those moments that you realized that they were exactly the same person.
You got distracted looking at him until he mumbled something you couldn't understand. You waited thinking he was waking up and talking to you, but then he went back to utterly unintelligible muttering and you smiled to yourself realizing he was talking in his sleep. Stephen and Defender didn't do that.
You lay there for several minutes watching him sleep and trying to control your little giggles every time he said something. You even managed to understand a few words like book, spell, Kamar Taj, but they were just loose words, most of which you could decipher.
It took some time for you to realize that there was indeed life outside that room, as much as you had forgotten about it in the last few hours, there was also work on which you were definitely late. You got up looking for your bag, but your cell phone wasn't inside it. You looked around trying to think where you had left it when you found it on top of the bedside table next to Stephen.
You picked it up and were speechless when you saw the time. It was past 10am. You should be at work at 7am. It was Friday, there was always so much work on Fridays. Phil would kill you. You sighed trying to understand why your alarm didn't go off until you saw that your alarm had been deleted. You stood there looking at your phone and at Supreme sleeping and you knew you should be mad but at the same time you couldn't help but smile at the realization.
You sighed surrendering and answered the thousand messages Phil had sent you with a simple: I'M NOT FEELING WELL. I'M SORRY.
You left your cell phone on the bedside table and walked around back to bed. You would talk to him about what he did, but in another moment, in that moment you would appreciate him a little bit more.
...
Sleep has always been an issue for Stephen. He always had trouble sleeping and even more trouble waking up. There was nothing he hated more than having to wake up early and that’s why his days at Kamar Taj were always a torture, because he had to wake up at sunrise every day.
Anyway, he was pretty sure he had never slept so well in his entire life and likewise never woken up more pleasantly than to the sweet sound of your voice.
He opened his eyes to see your looking at him with what he could only describe as love and tenderness. Your hand caressed his cheek gently.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty." You teased with a smirk. "Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to wake you up?"
He ran a hand over his face. "What time is it?" he asked and he could see from your face that you weren't pleased that he'd turned off your alarm, but you didn't look mad either.
"It's almost 11am." You sighed "I'm not going to argue with you today, but I want you to know that I'm not pleased and I hope you don't do that again."
He smirked. You really did look even more beautiful when you spoke to him in that authoritative tone. It was as scary as a hissing kitten though. "Noted."
He held out his arms for you to settle between them. "Now come here, kiss me good morning."
You complied, kissing his lips softly, then pulled back and traced his lips with your fingertip. "You have beautiful lips. I like the way they stand out without the beard."
Oh honey. How could he resist you when you were a flatterer and he loved to be flattered? "What did I tell you about complimenting me?"
You bit your bottom lip "I can't help it." You said with a mischievous smile and then let out a small giggle. "I discovered something new about you today."
He raised an eyebrow "And what would that be?"
"You talk in your sleep." You said and kissed him again. Just a peck, like it was the most casual thing in the world. And he blushed. Stephen wasn't shy, not at all. He was a damned exhibitionist, but this newfound intimacy was something new to him. He hadn't been this close to a woman since Christine, but it sure as hell wasn't the same. You were important, you were the love of his life, he just knew it.
"So the great Supreme Strange is capable of blushing." You teased.
He cupped your chin between his thumb and index finger "I love you. I've never felt this way about anyone and it scares me. This love is so big that would make me do anything to keep it, and when I say that..." He held his hand up in the air staring at his fingers. All the memories flooding back to his mind. "I mean it."
You held his hand and directed it to cup your cheek. You kept it there. "I love you too, Stephen."
He kissed you deeply and rolled over to stand on top of you and held both of your hands above your head, with his knee he spread your legs to position himself between them.
"Stephen…we need to go home."
He shushed you "We will. But first I'm going to make love to you one more time before I hand you back to them."
You let out a small giggle. "As you wish, sir."
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ponder-the-orb · 3 months
Text
Broken Horizons: Chapter five
Two months in.
"By Waukeen’s golden cloak, you certainly are quick.” The dwarven shopkeeper almost leaps from his stool as Ciri slams a large wet sack in front of him. The sound reverberates around the dim apothecary, causing a few of the smaller jars on the counter to shake. 
“Not a single burn, just like you asked,” she replies, stepping back to the door and sliding the heavy bolt across. She’d already appraised the space for prying eyes, sure that any hidden lurkers would have scampered away when they’d seen her stalk in with her bloody offering. She ignites the lamp in the corner with a snap of her fingers, but it does little to make the shop any more inviting. The air reeks like a warm corpse,  thick twitching vines and the pulsing body parts of various beasts crowding every inch of the walls and ceiling. She’s trying not to dwell on whatever slimy thing had caressed her ear as she’d walked in, instead focussing on the dwarf as he dons a pair of cracked leather gloves.
A month ago, she would never have stepped foot here, well aware that the regular clientele of this establishment did not hold much favour with the city’s magic elite. 
It’s the perfect spot for what she requires now.
“Your reputation precedes you Mrs. Dekarios. I had not expected you to return from the Wetlands for at least another month.” 
“Dispatching it was the easy task. Luring it away from its nest? Less so.” She rubs the bite mark hidden under her trousers, still wet and stinging three days and two antidotes later. “Now, did you have the time to get what I need?”
“Hang on. Gotta check the goods first.”
He mutters an awed curse under his breath as he pulls her payment from the bag – the roughly severed head of an infant basilisk. It’s the size of a crate between his hands, the blue scales of its face crusted with blood– both its and hers. She’d bound its huge crocodile jaws shut to prevent the teeth from ripping the sack, but it’s doing little to stop the sticky black venom now leaking from its mouth and onto the counter. The dwarf cares not, carefully peeling away the fabric she’d stuck above its nose to reveal the real prize: its eyes.
They’re powerless to petrify now, but still gleam like precious stones in their sockets. 
The shopkeeper takes a dagger from his belt and expertly removes them both. “Gods, just imagine what I can do with these,” he mumbles, depositing them in an empty jar. “And the regulars will pay a pretty price for the rest as well.” He continues to murmur to himself as he yanks the teeth free from the skull, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Ciri is still standing across from him.
She clears her throat, then again when he doesn’t look up.
“Alright alright. A deal’s a deal m’lady ,” he grunts, covering the mangled head with a sheet and hopping down from the stool and into the back room.
Ciri hears a yelp and squelch as he moves around and tries not to think about what poor things are stuck behind that curtain. A few minutes later he emerges with a fresh scratch on his face and a worn backpack in his hands.
“Is that everything?” Ciri asks as he stands back on his stool and holds it out to her.
“I had to go through some of my more discreet suppliers, but yes. That’s everything on your list.”
Read more on AO3!
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rfxiii · 11 months
Note
I loooove the way you write Franklin could we get him with a hyper fem s/o 🩷🩷
(First of all- I’m so sorry for how late this is! And second- my dumb ass misread this like five times and originally thought you meant like hyperfem. So, I wrote a list of headcanons and a short scenario for Franklin with both a Hyperactive fem s/o and a Hyperfeminine s/o. Sorry for the mix up and tysm for the kind words and the Franklin love 💚)
Franklin Clinton with a hyperfeminine S/O:
*TW: none*
(I did a few headcanons first and then a little short scenario at the end for both)
He loves you no matter what, but you being super feminine is crazy cute to him.
Just because you’re very feminine doesn’t mean you can’t look out for yourself, but Franklin finds himself looking out for you just a little more because of it. He’ll treat you delicately and almost like a princess- opening your door at the car or when you’re going in a building, giving you his jacket when it’s cold or rainy, offering to pay to get your nails done or let you take his card/some cash to buy makeup.
He’ll offer to go shopping with you. He’s not a huge fan of going shopping, but it’s an excuse for him to sit in the changing room with you and watch you model some of the skimpier, shorter skirts and dresses you’ve picked out.
He’ll buy cute, lacy, pink lingerie for you or suggest you both go shopping together so he can pick you things out.
If you mention, even off-handedly, that you like something you saw in a shop, expect to get it as a gift in the next few days.
He will, begrudgingly, let you try out makeup/ nail polish on him. But absolutely no pictures and he’s asking you nicely (begging) to take it off pretty soon after. He loves you, and he loves seeing you happy when you do stuff like this, and he’s not self conscious or insecure about himself for letting you put makeup on him. But if Trevor, or worse, Lamar ever saw him with his makeup done and his nails painted he’d never let it go.
He’s a little more open to any skincare routines you want him to try with you though. He’s a really attractive guy, and if a lotion or serum keeps him staying this pretty he’s not going to complain.
**
You’d been out with your friends all day- shopping, then heading to the nail salon, only to stop at a cafe before making your way back to Franklin’s house in the Vinewood Hills just as the sun was beginning to set. He never minds when you’re gone with your friends, he’s always been perfect like that. And while he was, by far, the best man you’d ever had the fortune of dating, you knew he did also appreciate the reprieve from being your designated shopping buddy for the day.
You throw open the heavy front door, striding in as your heels click softly against the cold floor. You stop briefly to deposit your shopping bags by the stairs, he always carries them to the bedroom for you anyways, before heading into the house and calling out for him, “Franklin! Frank? Baby, I’m home.”
An arm sneaks gently around your waist, playfully pulling you backwards as his hands rest on your abdomen- his fingers teasingly dancing against the skin exposed from under your light pink crop top, “Have fun, baby girl?” he murmurs against your neck, swaying you both in a gentle dance.
“Mhmm! I got my nails done. Wanna see?” you chirp, a grin growing on your lip gloss painted lips as you look over your shoulder and bat your long lashes at him.
He takes your wrist delicately in his rough hand, twirling you around to face him. A blush darkens your cheeks as you playfully cover your lips to stifle your giggling- the display giving him a view of your freshly manicured nails. He takes your hand in his, holding it like fragile glass and bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, “Damn, girl. You always know just what to pick- always out here lookin’ like a damn angel.” he praises graciously, like he really may believe he’s privileged to even be in your presence.
He’s treated you like royalty from the moment you’d met. But if you were a queen to him, then he was more than a king to you. He treated you like you were everything to him. He waits on you without question- opening car doors, carrying your bag, even going so far as to keep backups of your makeup staples on him in the glovebox of his car.
He’s a handsome man- put together, intelligent, well spoken, and determined to get the best out of life that he can. He’s so strong. But still, you’d feared in the beginning that your affinity to the softer, more feminine things in life would grow to be too high maintenance for him. But time and time again he’d proven, without fail, that he loves you for you.
You loop your arms around his neck, pressing against him as you bat your lashes at him, “Sooo~ Do you wanna see what I bought today?” you pry, knowing good and well he’ll agree- it’s practically like living with your own, personal hype man at the ready.
“Aight, come on, then.” Franklin chuckles, offering you his arm and leading you off to the door so he can collect your bags.
He sets the bags in the huge closet for you, seating himself on the edge of the bed as he waits with the interest of a man engrossed in his favorite sports game. You fight back a giggle as you undress and put together your first outfit- never failing to feel the butterflies in your stomach from how dedicated he is to you. With a soft “ah!” you locate the dress you’d been searching for- a short, skin tight little number in a fun, flattering color that suited your style perfectly. You shimmy the dress up your hips, admiring the way it hugs you in all the perfect places before you’re sliding on the new, matching heels to complete the outfit. With a satisfied hum you stride from the closet, replicating your best model walk and turning to show off your best angles to your grinning boyfriend.
“Aight! Daaamn! Look at you, girl!” Franklin calls, leaning forward and looking you up and down like he can’t get enough, “Now what the hell you doin’ in LS? Why ain’t you over in Paris doing a fashion show?”
“Frank! Stooop it!” you whine playfully despite both of you knowing how much you adored his affectionate, genuine responses.
“Come’er.” he smirks, leaning back and patting his lap. He’s so damn cheeky, and there’s not a single thing about him that you’d change.
You glide over confidently, the heels clicking softly against the floor until you come to a stop before him. He grabs your waist gently and you find yourself hiking your already short dress up even further to straddle his hips and rest your palms on his shoulders. He leans in slowly and presses a deep kiss to your lips, appreciating the sweet, soft scent of your perfume and your warm skin under his hands, “How the hell did I get so lucky?” he mutters against your lips while his fingers tease the warm skin of your thighs.
“You can thank your buddy, Lamar, for that one.” you giggles, losing yourself into even more laughter as you watch his face sour playfully at the mention of his raucous, wild best friend.
“Right- yeah, that fool is the last thing I want on my mind right now!” Franklin groans, dropping his head to your chest and not so discreetly pressing his face between your breasts. You stifle a laugh, pulling him up and peppering his face with kisses- soothing his joking distress about the mentions of Lamar.
“You’re right, baby.. Only thing I want on your mind is me~” you coo softly. You pull him into another soft, playful kiss before pulling away as a devious grin splits your lips, “Sooo… Ya wanna see what else I bought? I got it for you.”
“For me?” Franklin questions with a painfully cute tilt of his head and curiosity in his warm, puppy dog eyes, “I got all I need right here, baby girl.” he teases despite the obvious anticipation on his face.
You nod slowly, biting your lip and brushing your sharp, freshly manicured nails against his cheek, “Yeah.. You gotta unwrap it first though..”
It takes him a moment to understand, and when he does his eyes widen and a soft chuckle slips from his smirking lips, “My god, baby! You really are too damn perfect for me.” he breathes out- lifting you up and tossing you playfully against the mattress.
Needless to say, your new outfit was cast aside and easily forgotten for the remainder of the night.
Franklin Clinton with a hyper!Fem S/O:
Franklin is a pretty relaxed, chill guy. But you being more energetic and hyper always has a way of making him laugh. He thinks your random spurts of energy and the random things you have to say are honestly the cutest shit.
It always amuses him when you randomly get the zoomies- no matter how long you’ve been together. One minute you’ll be laying together on the couch watching tv and the next you’ll be jumping on top of him or playfully biting his arm.
Sometimes you’ll catch him at just the right time for him to be silly af with you. It’s rare, but occasionally you’ll slide into the room with intent to annoy him only for him to snatch you up and tickle you or toss you onto the couch.
Sometimes your hyper energy and Lamar’s hyper energy will combine when you’re all hanging out. It kind of makes Franklin crazy, but he loves you. So it’s always Lamar that gets bitched at for “being annoying”.
He can usually tell when you’re gearing up to do something crazy. It’ll start with a little giggle when you poke him or tug on his shirt, then your laying in his lap trying to mess with things on his phone when he’s trying to text, and suddenly you're sitting on his lap talking his ear off. He never knows peace anymore, but he loves you so it doesn’t bother him too bad.
You bring him out of his shell fairly easily. He’s not exactly shy, but he is a more introverted, calm guy. Your hyper, talkative nature helps him open up a bit more in social situations.
When you’re off for a long day out and he sees you climb into the passenger's seat with a large coffee/energy drink, he knows he’s in for it for the rest of the day.
**
“Ay, babe- what do you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking we could- AH!”
You giggle loudly as you pull away from Franklin, having gently sunk your teeth into his forearm while he’d been focusing on looking at takeout apps on his phone. He gives you a tired but playful blank look, scowling at the little teeth marks in his arm before pouting at you, “Seriously? If you was that hungry you shoulda said something sooner.” he chuckles, pulling you against his side to look at his phone together.
You laugh at his observation, peppering kisses across his cheek and nuzzling energetically against his side, “I just love you! You stopped paying attention to me- I got bored!”
Franklin snorts softly, shaking his head and relaxing again with his focus back on finding food, “Fair enough, I guess. But for real- what do you wanna eat tonight?” he questions, already anticipating a silly response by the grin growing on your lips.
“Hmmm… What if we got pizza? Oh, oh! Or there’s that Indian place across town? But that Thai restaurant has really great noodles! Ummm-.. What do you want?” you rattle on, shifting onto your knees and leaning against him until your nose is nearly pressed to his cheek with an imploring look in your eyes.
You’d been dating for months now, and almost always around this time of night you got an even wilder burst of energy than your regular hyper self. He’s become more than accustomed to it, and even truly looked forward to your silly antics most days.
Franklin grins at your enthusiastic barrage of food options, clearly entertained by your excitement. He leans in to give you a soft kiss on the lips before replying, "You know what, baby girl? Fuck it! We'll order somethin’ from all of those places. What do you say to that?"
Your eyes light up with joy at the suggestion, and you plant a quick kiss on his cheek, exclaiming, "For real? That’s awesome! You really are the best, Frank!"
You both playfully argue over specific foods to order, and your excitement is contagious. Franklin can't help but chuckle at your infectious enthusiasm. He’s always been so cool and collected- especially in comparison to his best friend, Lamar. But with you, it’s like your hyper, enthusiastic personality opens him up to experiencing things with a new level of excitement. You love this side of him- more relaxed and fun loving, not always having to be the smart one or the leader. He’s able to just have fun when he’s with you. You’d feared, several times in your relationship, that your hyperactive attitude would eventually put him off or annoy him. But every day he surprises you by encouraging your spontaneous decisions and even lets himself get dragged along for the ride.
You really couldn’t have asked for a better man than Franklin Clinton.
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