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cinnamonest · 10 months ago

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I've been thinking more about promiscuous darlings which led me to the idea of prostitute!darling, and I was thinking about that like in that event a while back where Paimon says Kaveh seems like “the kind of guy that would be easy to take advantage of” and it got me thinking how quickly and readily he would fall in love with a prostitute… literally lured and baited as easily as a fish to a hook.

He doesn't like the thought of what he's doing, initially. He's never been the sort of person who associates with morally questionable things — he’s heard that a lot of those girls don't really want to be doing it, they just need money, so participating would be taking advantage of them, wouldn't it? He couldn't do something so awful.

But he's got a lot of pent up frustration. His work is hard, he's not in a good place financially, he's stressed, pent up, and has no outlet for release. And even if he strives to be a good person, he's still a guy, still has urges that, when gone unmet, only contribute to that frustration.

In hindsight, he feels like something possessed him. Couldn't say exactly what caused him to take a course of action so far removed from what he would have thought was his personal character.

It's just a particularly bad day, after particularly disagreeable clients spent a particularly long time endlessly getting in his face and complaining and snapping at him, he worked particularly late and is particularly frustrated and seething and wallowing as he sulks home so late at night, and he's particularly irritated because some construction going on forces him to take a different route home, and—

You just so happen to call out to him. And when he turns his head, he immediately stiffens up.

So pretty. You have that specific body type he’s always found most alluring, always pictured in his head when he would lay in bed and jerk off all day after classes. And he can certainly tell, because those outfits you girls on this part of the street wear certainly leave very little to the imagination. So much skin, he can see your entire leg, from the hip down to the ankles and all the curving along the way, he can see most of your tits too, cleavage spilling out from the top. It's immediately captivating. If he was thinking straight, he would suppose that's kind of the point, but he's too lost in the sudden burst of stimulation to his eyes to think about much at all.

You have such a nice smile, such a sweet voice. And now that you have his attention, you put on that whimsical feminine charm, shift your weight from one foot to the other, hips swaying all playfully, and he has to ask you to repeat what you said because he didn't hear you the first time, he was too distracted, and it feels so embarrassing to say that, but you just giggle — it's so cute — and repeat your question — if he wants to come inside.

He swallows, stumbles over his words at the prospect, you're being very forward — oh, wait, you probably mean come inside the building. Oh… that makes more sense, at this stage in the process. Whoops…

But that isn't much better. He's still red in the face and hesitates, all uh, ah, I, um, I just…

Yes, he isn't sure exactly what possesses him. It’s not something he would ever do on his own, surely. It feels more like the word comes out of his mouth on its own.

Sure.

The following events seem almost surreal, in hindsight. He can't remember what you even talked about, some empty meaningless conversation about what he does for a living or if he's been around this area before, some placeholder of a conversation that he knows full well is merely a courtesy to make it all feel a little more natural, empty words that are mutually understood to be just a buffer to prevent awkwardness as you walk up the stairs, to fill the short span of time before you get to the point.

He remembers said point a lot better. Long after it's over, he can remember the feeling of your mouth on his, and the way you pulled on the back of his neck to pull him on top of you, the rush of euphoric chemicals to the brain the moment you pulled just one little button undone and the whole thing you're wearing comes falling off, the visual of your body (he’s never actually seen a girl naked in real life before, it’s so captivating, the anatomy textbooks don’t do it justice), and the way your tits bounce with the movements and the way they feel in his mouth and the image of his cock driving into you over and over (no one ever told him it feels so warm and wet, so good, has he really been missing out on this all this time?) and the sounds you made are practically permanently burned into his brain.

So much so, he keeps thinking about it for days on end. He felt kind of sad when he left, but he knows that he only paid for a limited time slot, so it would be unfair to ask to stay any longer, but the way you smiled and waved and told him you hoped to see him again — still naked, body pressed up against the doorframe, the way your chest shifted when you waved — made him feel so warm, made his heart beat fast all over again.

It's all so distracting. He works at a much slower pace than usual, the following days, keeps getting distracted by the lingering visuals in his head and the way he keeps getting hard whenever he thinks about it, and not to mention the guilt.

Yes, as euphoric as it was, he feels terrible. Like he's done something wrong. Swears to himself that he'll forget about it and never do it again, that it was a one-time thing.

But he begins to rationalize it to himself.

Sure, you do it because you need money, but that means that if no one participated in the exchange, then you wouldn't make any money at all, and that would be worse, right? Besides, everyone knows some of those guys that engage in this sort of thing are terrible, mean people — but he's not, he's a really nice guy! So by seeing you, by being the one to buy your time, he's protecting you from potentially having to do it with really bad men. So, when you think about it, he's actually doing something really good.

And it improves his life, too. The next day, he finds that the nagging clients don't really get under his skin at all. Sure, they're complaining and being mean to him, but he's not really paying attention, it all feels far away, like it's not even real. He just feels full of this warm, fuzzy feeling, total bliss, like floating, without a care in the world. He isn't stressed, isn't worried. He even thinks to himself that, you know what, that task or that work can wait until tomorrow, no rush, and if someone gets mad about it, too bad.

He ends up just laying in bed, grinning like an idiot, basking in the euphoric high that lasts him several days on end.

…Except then, it fades away.

Soon he's back to the stress, constant state of being overwhelmed, the little things start to upset him again, and he actually feels more miserable than he did before, now that he has such a good feeling to compare to.

You said you hope he comes back, didn’t you? And he’s pretty sure he stuttered out an o-oh, okay, so now he’s obligated.

Thus, soon enough, he's back.

It's not like he's intentionally seeking you out. He just felt like walking home a different way today, is all, which just so happens to be the route that took him by you last time, and he has no intention of seeing you, it just so happens to be the case that you are standing around outside and you do happen to see him and you choose to call out to him (by his name!! You remember him!!), you're smiling and have such a sweet voice, you clearly want him to come in (do you like him? You wouldn't be smiling if you didn't, right?) and it would be mean of him to reject you, wouldn't it?

Yes, you're clearly happy. You smile all over again. He's not doing anything wrong, it's only wrong if the girl doesn't like doing it. He would never taken advantage of one of those vulnerable girls that's forcing herself to do it for money. But you're not like that, so it's okay.

Which is how he ends up back there a third time. Because it's okay, and it makes you happy, and it makes him very happy, so it's all okay.

And besides, what you two have is different. It's not like the normal cases, where the girl is just in it for money and doesn't want the guy at all. You clearly enjoyed your time with him. Probably a welcome relief from all the gross old guys you have to see.

And it's different because it's not just sex. Normally, with this sort of thing, it's cold and impersonal, isn't it?

But you smile so sweet and run your fingers through his hair, and cradle his head in your arms and pull him close and coo and fuss and run your fingers down his back. And since he intends to pay for the entire night this time, you get to just lay there together, and you're so warm and soft and you smile and giggle as he talks, so pretty, so nice to him, your skin is so good to touch, you smell so nice.

And the sex itself is different too — you like it, genuinely, he can tell, you make such nice sounds and lewd faces and look directly into his eyes and pull his head forward to kiss him (he one heard someone say that prostitutes never kiss clients, so if you do that it must mean he's different), and you hold him so close and tighten up around him and it feels so so so so good, and the way you quiver and the sounds get louder and you squeal and spasm and it's so so SO good, too good, it feels so passionate that it has to be real.

Yes, it is real. It's not just acting. He can feel the slick wetness all over his hips from you, that means it's real. And you don't even mind when he gets a bit lost in the feeling, starts to really let all the pent-up irritation out, gets rougher and harder and holds you by your throat. He feels so terrible after he cums and realizes what he was doing, keeps sputtering out apologies over and over, but you smile and wave your hand and say it's more than fine, giggle and kiss his forehead, say you wouldn't expect it from such a sweet boy like him, but you like it. If you're fine with it, if you like it, then you're not scared he might actually hurt you. You must really trust him, then.

The downside is that now, work feels so miserable. He keeps thinking about how much he wants to go back to you. Each project feels like torture — why is he here, negotiating with these disagreeable people, slaving away all night, when he could be balls deep in you again, hear your voice, feel your touch?

And he starts to get so irritated and frustrated again, and he finds that this time around, he doesn't have to sit there and let the frustration hit a peak before deciding to do something, he doesn't have to rationalize it for hours on end just to allow himself to give into the urge — the moment the frustration rises, his mind immediately settled on the decision. He has to go see you. You'll make everything better.

Except now, he realizes as he reaches into his drawers, there's a different problem.

…He has no money left.

That means he can't see you. He spent all his savings on you last time.

It makes him feel sick. This can't be happening. What is he supposed to do? He can't just go back to dealing with the frustration all the time! Now that he knows what it's like to be so happy, he can't go without it. He needs it.

It's not just the sex itself, he's not some kind of degenerate, he wants to see you! That's wholesome and good, isn't it? So it’s not like he’s some sort of pervert addicted to sex itself, he’s addicted to you.

And besides, if he isn't there for you, you'll have to deal with other men, and most guys who see prostitutes are bad guys, right? What if one of them hurts you? What if you're expecting him to come, and then you'll feel hurt and sad if he doesn't? You'll be disappointed. He can't let that happen.

So where is he supposed to get money from…?

Well. He has a few means, as he starts to brainstorm a bit. Right, there is a small stash of emergency money he had put away at the bottom of another drawer, that he was saving for a situation where he needed it, but put it away so he wouldn't be tempted to spend it on something unnecessary.

But this isn't like that. It is necessary, for him to continue functioning properly. And for you to have the money to get by! Not only is he guaranteeing your safety for the night, but what if you didn't get anyone if he didn't come? Well, it's unlikely no one would come, but still, you might not make enough money, and what happens then? Don't those guys that own the brothels get really mean to the girls that don't make enough? He can't have that happen. So, this situation absolutely justifies the use of the emergency stash. It's enough to give him another three nights or so. He can just use enough money for one visit, and then by the time he needs another one, he'll have brought in some new money.

No, no, you know what? You need it more than he does. He just gives it all to you at once, and to be honest, it does make his heart skip a beat when your eyes widen in shock. This way, he can reserve the next three nights in a row, right? He originally intended to space them out a bit, but, no, he’s already here, and he’s really needy right now, he’ll just do three nights in a row and figure out how to get more later. He'll just pay upfront. You're so happy. It makes him feel good.

And then, as the night goes on, when you're laying there all curled up together talking about all sorts of things, he off-handedly mentions that you wear that dress of yours all the time, he's never seen you without it, is it your favorite?

And then you get this sheepish look on your face, give an awkward laugh, say that well, you don't really have any other clothes, you sold them all to get by before you ended up here, and you give so much back to the owners that you just don't have enough to get any more…

That's so sad. Poor thing. You can't just not have enough clothes… well, he only has a few things he changes back and forth himself, but girls are really into clothes and stuff, aren't they? You deserve to have nice things, it's sad that you don't get to. He keeps it in mind, says he promises he'll get you something. You say he doesn’t have to. You’re so sweet and considerate. That just makes him want to help you even more.

So when his next project is complete and he gets the payout for it, sure, he only needs about half of it to pay you for one or two nights each week for the next month, and he could get you something cheap and still have a little left over for rent, but… you deserve nice stuff. And the nice stuff would make you so much happier, too, it would earn him favor from you… besides, he has another project he'll finish soon, he can just pay late rent using that.

So he can get the nice stuff. Besides, even shopping exclusively for higher-end stuff, it's still a bit cheaper to buy the super revealing clothes, since they use less fabric. Not that he's a pervert or anything, it's just that you need clothes like that for your job, don't you? It's part of how you lure guys in. The fact that you'll look really nice in it to him is just a side bonus, it's really for your sake.

…Which, actually, does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He's getting you clothes that you'll use to hook other guys who aren't him. But, no, he's a mature person, he can't… let himself get upset about something like that… it’s not your fault… he'll just choose to not think about it.

He can distract himself with how happy you are. Your eyes light up and you smile so big and you stand on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his face all over. You're happy. You're really, really happy, because of him, he made you happy, his heart is beating so fast, and when you put them on it shows off even more than he thought it would, you can almost see everything, it just barely covers the bare minimum and you seem to really like that, you pull him close and reach a leg up behind him and pull his hips forward and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lust and euphoria, you're so happy, and he's happy too.

It feels so good. He's been missing out on this all these years. It's the best feeling of anything in the world. He's so, so happy.

He's so happy that people in his life start to comment on it. They ask if something good happened, they say they're glad he seems less stressed. He just shrugs it off, says he's just been feeling better recently, or makes something up about a different change in habits.

And sure, he has to tell Alhaitham that he won't have rent just this one time, it's just that something came up, although he won't specify what it is, but he makes it sound important — not dishonestly, because it is important, it's just that he knows that the first assumption one would make would he something a bit… more important, but if that assumption is made, that's not his fault.

Nonetheless, he's soon out of money again. Gets hit with the same wave of panic. He's got a routine now, a habit, he's dependent on you for his stress. He needs it. If he doesn't get what he needs, how is he supposed to go on? How is he supposed to function? He can't just use his hand anymore, it's not enough, it doesn't have the same effect. And he can't just beg you to sleep with him anyway, he knows you need money, he would never put you in that situation, it would be unfair to you, he's a better man than that. He has to pay you somehow.

He has some things he doesn't need. Tools he hasn't used in ages. Some stuff he hasn't worn or needed in a long time. He can sell a few things.

And, you know what, this client has been really mean to him anyway, so if he cuts a few corners to get paid a bit earlier, it's no big deal, the guy doesn't deserve his best work anyway. It’s a mentality he normally would never take, but… this is different. This is a unique situation that calls for such measures.

And he's taken out loans before from the bank, usually for projects, and he usually pays it back, so they undoubtedly assume it's just another case of that, so he'll take out a decently sized loan… of course, he may need more money for more upcoming projects, and then they won't give him a new loan until he pays back the old one, but… well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

And normally, he would never, ever, ever do something bad, he's a person who prides himself on his moral values, but it's not like he's doing something bad in this case, its just pure coincidence that he happens to find some guy’s wallet dropped on the ground. It just so happens to have a lot of money in it. And he returns the wallet itself into the nearest law enforcement, he gives the object itself and all the IDs and such back. He's sure the rightful owner would pay him for the good deed anyway. And when you think about it, the fact that this would happen to him just when he needed it, it's probably some kind of divine grace that this happened, and who is he to deny what the higher powers gift him with?

He can keep making it work. And he can keep buying out larger and larger blocks of your time, to ensure no one else gets to you — after that one time he arrived to find out you were already occupied for the time being, it practically made his blood boil, made him feel so sick he walked home and couldn't get the images out of his mind of you with someone else, he can't let that happen again, it would kill him inside.

Likewise, he has to get a bit more earnings, take on some more jobs, sacrifice some more sleep because you keep hinting at certain things you want, and if he doesn't buy them for you, who will? It's all stuff you need anyway — well, stuff you need for your job, all the fancy jewelry and perfumes and clothes and stuff. And he gets benefits, too — your love and favor, you take initiative more, you ride him and kiss him more and let him do all sorts of filthy things you don't let anyone else do (he knows because you told him so), you even let him stop wearing protection when he sleeps with you, and it's so much better, it's completely different, he can't go back to the old way, having to be deprived of that warm, wet heat would be utterly miserable. You even give him a night or two for free, because you like him so much, tell him it should be a secret just between you two, okay? Of course, you can't do it all for free, so he has to come back again soon, but you know, this way, he'll stay incentivized, which is good — because you want him to come back because you like him, not for money, no, never that.

You tell him he's your favorite. You say that he makes you happy. You say you would be heartbroken if he ever stopped coming. You say that you need him.

You say that you love him.

He feels like he's going to die of happiness right there on the spot.

You mention that if someone just paid off your price to the owner (said buying price is whatever the owner decides), plus the debt you accumulate from staying here (it's well known that those fees are how they trap these poor girls into endless servitude), then you would be free — that if someone just pays for you, you could be free to do what you want, that you could sleep with him every day, you could even get married.

So he has to do it. He feels bad about the concept of buying a human being, but, his situation is different, because he's a good guy and loves you. Besides, the sooner he does, then the sooner you'll never have sex with anyone but him ever again. He's saving you, really.

And if he doesn't, what if someone else does? What if someone else took you away from him? He can't even imagine it. The very notion makes him feel nauseous, panicked, distraught. He can't let that happen.

It's not unfeasible. If he really budgets well, saves just a little at a time, he can get you out in no time. Just a year or so. He'll start saving.

And sure, he hasn't paid rent in a while now, and he gets these questions of where his money is going, why he's leaving late at night when he never did that before, all these pesky questions he shouldn't have to answer, because it's none of your business, as he mutters in response. He's just got too much going on right now, and strapped for cash, he'll pay it back eventually, that's what matters.

…Which also makes him realize that, even if he does buy you, you'll have to just come live here with him, and how is he supposed to explain that to Alhaitham… he can just say he got a girlfriend, right? Still, people might recognize you, he'd find out eventually, and then he'd probably realize all the missed rent payments were actually going to him getting laid, and that's… not good… he just wouldn't understand, he's totally lacking in any understanding of romanticism or love… such unfeeling pragmatists are so annoying to deal with… he'll just have to deal with that when it happens…

Except it does end up happening sooner than later. Someone or another (some jerk who can't keep their mouth shut, he'll find out eventually), must have seen him around at night, going to you, and that same person must have reported on him (like a grade school tattletale crying to a teacher, hmph!) and that's how he eventually gets confronted, point blank (absolutely no sense of tact or appropriateness!), one night as he’s trying to leave to go see you, but finds the other blocking the door.

Are you blowing your money on a whore?

Of course, before addressing the matter directly, it's important to point out that it is rude to call women terms like that, they are prostitutes and they deserve to be respected as much as anyone else—

So you are.

Which starts off a much bigger, longer, more heated argument, in which he tries to explain that no he’s not dodging the question and that it is not prostitution, you two are in a relationship, you just so happen to also be a prostitute, but he's trying to help you change that— hey, what's with the sighing like that and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's exasperated? It's true! You even said you love him!

Okay, yes, maybe it's true that they all say that, but in this case, you mean it, you're different, he wouldn't get it.

And sure, the whole thing is probably surprising from him of all people— what do you mean it's not that surprising? What's that supposed to mean? What— who are you calling an “ideal target”?! That's so mean! You—

And despite his best efforts, there is no point in trying to use reason with someone so cold and devoid of capacity to understand love. It's futile. How pessimistic, so annoying. Besides, he's implying you're a bad person, and he can't stand for that. No, you're not using him, how could he say that?

Eventually it becomes very clear that the conversation is going nowhere, it's very much like talking to a brick wall, someone who just refuses to even try and understand what you two have. No matter. Fine, fine, he'll focus on paying back rent first, but then he's going to buy you, and then he'll see firsthand how loving you are (and surely will not charge him extra for another person living in the house, as he was just threatened with)… he'll see. Eventually.

#baby boy...#.kv

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changbunnies · 1 year ago

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One & Only (18+)

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pre-established relationship, some light plot to establish the setting, college au but it's a background detail

♡ Word Count: 4.6k

♡ Summary: Following a perfect Valentine's Day date, you decide you're ready for the next step in your relationship with Chan. You want him, and you know he wants you- and the only thing left to do is tell him exactly how you feel.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (pretty, baby) corruption kink, virgin + inexperienced reader, mutual masturbation, fingering (f rec), handjob

♡ Notes: i wanted to upload something short (compared to what i usually write anyways) for valentines day and i’ve been wanting to write corruption kink channie for a while now, so what better time to do it! i hope you enjoy <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You sighed as you flopped on the bed, freshly changed into your pajamas- next to you lies Chan, your best friend and roommate turned boyfriend, easily the love of your life, and you nervously chew your bottom lip, faced with the choice of what to do next now that your first Valentine's Day as a couple had come to an end. Returning to your shared apartment, nerves rattling away at you as you changed out of your prettiest, formal dress and now on the bed, trying your best not to overthink your situation.

If you were being blunt and honest, you just really wanted to have sex with him- or at least take the next step in that direction. But the thought of it was utterly nerve wracking; every time he looked at you with his handsome, dimpled smile and pretty brown eyes, and you pictured seeing that same expression while he was hovering over you in your newly shared bed, it made your heart race out of control.

After an awkward, impromptu confession that led to you becoming a couple, the two of you slowly began sharing your space, until one day you stopped going back forth between bedrooms and decided to just share one. You chose your room to share in the end- Chan, the gentleman that he is, let you have the larger room when you moved into this apartment as roommates, and it was the natural choice when deciding which of you would be moving their belongings into the other room. And it was nice, exciting even, to help Chan move his belongings into your space until it became not justs yours but his too.

But lately, sharing a bedroom served a problem- now that you slept in the same bed every night, you were becoming increasingly more aware of how badly you want him. And thanks to being friends and roommates before you were together, you knew had experience- experience that you felt you were sorely lacking. And it's not like you ever felt shame over the fact that you were still a virgin in college (as it's much more realistic than tv shows and movies would lead you to believe) but somewhere deep down you worried your lack of experience would make things awkward and unenjoyable.

That awareness of experience was equal, because in turn Chan was well aware of your sexual history (or lack thereof). You knew he wouldn't judge you, he would never be anything but kind and considerate, but it was hard to prevent self doubt from digging its claws into your embarrassingly fragile heart. You knew it was silly to feel this way knowing all that you do about Chan's character and his care for you that extends beyond titles of friend or girlfriend, but your nerves ate away at you regardless.

You kissed people before Chan, and that was unfortunately the extent of your prior experience. Your kisses were shared with fleeting crushes in high school, inside the confines of short lived relationships that never made it past first base. You didn't mind at the time- you weren't ready for more then, and you weren't going to compromise on sex just to keep a relationship going. But now here you were, an adult with little to no experience; and now that you were ready you were plagued by the idea that all of the awkwardness and exploration you could've gotten past in your adolescence will now be Chan's burden.

He wouldn't actually view it as such, you knew for a complete fact that he wouldn't- but the thing about self doubt is that logical thought does little to prevent it from taking root. And you felt terrible because Chan noticed you were feeling off since coming back to the apartment following your date; of course he did, he always noticed when you weren't acting like your usual self. You had such a perfect date together and now you were ruining it with your virginal rumination.

"What's on your mind, pretty?" Chan asks as he tucks the fallen hair behind your ears, the beautiful necklace he gifted you as your date came to a close perfectly adorning your neck. A silver locket in the shape of a heart, with dainty gems accented into the patterned engraving, which you opened to find a picture of the two of you after your first date. It was so perfect that you were speechless, and he admitted it took him months of saving to afford it (which was why your Christmas gift was something much less expensive in comparison and instead purely sentimental.)

"I-I'm sorry, I just.." you swallowed as you looked at him, your heart squeezing both from your nerves and from just how soft his expression is. "I was just thinking.. that I want to do more than just.. makeout, y'know..?"" You try your best not to blush from the admission, especially not when he starts smiling at you, but you can't stop your face from burning, and you turn your gaze away from his eyes, embarrassment taking its hold.

"Baby, look at me," he speaks softly but you can hear the smile in his voice before you even meet his gaze again to see it. It's a gentle smile that relays sweetness and care, but there's an underlying excitement beneath; because while he would never do anything to rush or pressure you along, he obviously wants more too. You're gorgeous, his best friend, his dream girl- of course he wants you. "You sure? I know it's a special day but we don't have to rush it or anything. I've already got the perfect gift."

You smile- timidly, but genuinely. He's so impossibly sweet, always; it's one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place. "Yeah, I'm sure- and I promise it's not just because it's Valentine's Day. I've been thinking about it, and I really want to, I'm just.. nervous is all. I've never.. you know.." You hesitantly meet his stare, your hand now nervously and unconsciously fiddling with the locket he gifted you that hangs from your neck.

It’s unceremonious the way his cock starts to throb from your timid words alone, almost shameful. He doesn't even know how much further than making out you're even going to go, but his body reacts regardless, independently from his brain that recognizes your need for slow, careful affection. There’s a million things he wants to say- “we’ll go slow” or “I’ll take care of you” or even “I love you” but his brain practically short circuits when you lift yourself from the pillows, locket dangling as you come closer to him, leaning down to press your lips to his.

A moment of confidence? Or maybe you already knew all the things he’d say and didn’t need to hear them? You’re not entirely atop him- that’s still a step too far in uncharted territory, but this at least.. Kissing him is something you can do without getting in your own head about experience and desirability. His fingers rest behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you- softly and slowly at first, the way he always does. It’s always a build up, his lips taking their time, his every caress careful but deliberate.

He always makes your heart race when he kisses you, makes your stomach do somersaults and blood run hot. Nerves aside, it’s undeniable how much you want him. One hand on his chest and the other in his hair, he’s careful when sits up from the bed to adjust your positions, conscious to not cause you to remove your hands from his body as you move in tandem with him. You let him lay you back down, catching just a glimpse of him hovering over you before your eyes are closing again as he kisses you. When his tongue licks your lips, you open your mouth to him without so much as a thought- it’s automatic, innate the way you welcome him into you.

It always makes you dizzy, the way Chan’s tongue dances around yours, swirling and building the excitement from deep within your gut to new heights you didn’t know possible. This time however, there’s an added desire, his kisses and gentle touches more impassioned with the promise that you’ll be giving him more; more skin to kiss and touch, to feel under his calloused fingertips, to admire and love and venerate. You’re all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, really; and he wants you to know, desperately wants to show you how much he desires you.

One arm holds his weight up while the hand on your face starts to trail away, fingers tracing the skin it travels over. Careful, slow, deliberate- it’s foreign but comfortable, somehow. When he hesitates, you affirm, you chase his touch, you pull him back, you silently plead with desperate eyes and eager breaths. Your face grows hot when your shirt comes off, his gaze hungrier when met with the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened more so from the building anticipation than from the cool air.

He wants to dote on you- call you cute, caress your burning cheeks, kiss the blush on your face and feel the heat of it on his lips. So he does, slowly so as to not overwhelm you, word choice careful as to not embarrass you. Your cheeks burn brighter, but you smile; a cute, shy one that his cock reacts to in equal measure to his heart. Pretty, beautiful, cute, he says it all as he starts to trail his kisses around the shell of your ear and to your neck.

And you’re shy, impossibly so, but you indulge in the affection, as happy as you are timid and out of your depth. You can count on a single hand the amount of times he started kissing your neck during a makeout session, and you were always left wanting more but were much too sheepish to admit your building desire. But after that first time, when you were in the bathroom that night and saw the trail of small, just barely visible bruises left behind on your neck, you knew- you wanted more, and he was being considerate, holding back for your sake.

You didn’t need that anymore, nor did you want him to- don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, leave your mark for all to see, touch and kiss and suck wherever you want. That’s what you want to tell him, but it’s hard to formulate that thought into words when the feeling of his lips on your neck and fingers ghosting over your nipples makes your brain grow fuzzy. He’ll get the hint though, you think, when you tilt your head to the side to allow him easier access to your skin and a whine leaves your lips.

He can feel your body tremble, can hear and feel your breath hitch when his attention to your skin grows in intensity. Harsher sucks to your pulse point, more deliberate rubs of your nipples between his fingers- still careful, but no longer entirely delicate, as if you’re made of porcelain. No, his touches are now firmer, with more purpose and intention, more confidence now that it’s clear your admission of wanting more was not something said just to appease his growing desire to have you.

He throbs when he pulls back to look at you; face flushed, skin varying in shades of pink and red, breath a near pant, hair fanned out and growing messy, the locket he gave you still staring back at him in the middle of it all. His fingers trail over it and you watch him carefully, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. “Should I take it off..?” you ask, wondering if it’ll get in the way somehow and he quickly shakes his head, leaning back down to you, his lips just barely touching yours.

“Fuck no, leave it on. I love seeing it on you like this. Like-” he stops a moment, carefully considering if what he’s going to say will scare you off. But fuck it, you’re all being honest tonight, right? So why shouldn’t he say what he’s really thinking? “Like you’re mine. All mine,” he finally says, and though shy, you smile as you expertly play into it, feeding his fantasies. “I am yours Channie, I’m always yours.” Oh, you really have him now (as if he wasn’t already impossibly yours to begin with- you don’t even know the depth of his belonging to you.)

Chan thought about you like this so many times- for years if he's being honest. He always felt guilty; the way he fantasized about you, his best friend for all his formative years and then his roommate, spread out for him and crying his name, clutching him so tightly that your nails dig into his skin. He just couldn't control it, and even his dreams, which were once innocent in nature (if you could believe it), you were there, whimpering on his cock, back arching as hushed whispers of praise were spoken into your ears, your eyes rolling back and drool escaping the corner of your parted lips.

He wanted you, fuck, he wanted you, always have and he’s sure he always will. A single kiss and then he’s pulling back again, his hands trailing just over the hem of your pajama shorts. You unconsciously hold your breath, and maybe it’s his ability to read the nerves all over your expression that lead him to hesitate, capturing your gaze with sweet consideration despite how much he yearns to see all of you. “Nervous?” he asks and you nod, thankful when he kisses away the tension building in your body.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet,” he reassures you, taking his hands away from your hips and instead moving them up to your waist, where he knows you’re comfortable with his touch. “I-I am, I want to, I promise! It’s just..” you trail off, and Chan offers you a sweet smile, stroking your cheek as you once again fumble nervously with the locket on your neck. “It’s a lot, I know,” he finishes for you, and you’re relieved he understands (not that you even suspected otherwise- he’s always been the sweetest guy you know.)

He returns to kissing you softly and sweetly, his hands exploring the regions he knows you to be ready for, never wandering too far below your stomach. When he pulls away, your curiosity gets the better of you- you look where he rests between your legs, his erection noticeably straining in his sweatpants, a wet patch of what can only be pre-cum darkening the gray fabric. While you feel shy looking at it, Chan seems to welcome the curiosity, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Want to see it?” he asks and you gulp, tearing your eyes away to look back at his face. “Y-Yeah, can I..?”

“Course, baby,” he replies easily, his smile growing ever so slightly as he straightens up to remove his pants. You swallow, blush flaring as you watch him slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. Rather than returning to his spot between your legs, he settles next to you, sitting up against the headboard and making himself comfortable. Chan looks at you, watching as your eyes travel and drink him in; you take notice of how his cock twitches as you stare, how pre-cum steadily drips from the tip, how prominently his vein runs down the length of it.

You're not sure what words are appropriate when it comes to describing your feelings towards seeing him bare, but you know you like it- you really like it. Your gaze makes him throb- desire, need, love, all wrapped together with a pretty ribbon of innocence and purity. He's being patient, but fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to see your eyes well with pretty tears and body painted with ropes of his cum. "Do you want to touch it?" he asks, hopeful and raging with want- for you, your touch, your kiss, your pleasured voice, everything.

"Y-Yes, but.. I don't know how to.. how do I make you feel good..?" you ask with the cutest pout he's ever seen, and he truly feels like his heart is getting struck by lightning; you're going to drive him insane with need before the night is over. "I can show you," he offers, smiling when you quickly nod. You're amazed by how confidently he takes it in his hand, not a single ounce of shyness to be found in his actions, unlike you; you wonder if you'll ever be the same- able to act without timid embarrassment eating away at you.

Even compared to his large hands, Chan's cock appears impossibly thick, and you swallow as you watch him collect pre-cum from the head before he spreads it down the entirety of his length. His fingers trace the vein before he takes it fully in his hand, his gaze entirely fixed on your face as he starts to slowly pump himself. You swallow, completely mesmerized, the butterflies in your stomach thrashing violently. You look back up to his face when you hear his breath shudder, blush growing with the realization that your stare had an effect on him.

When Chan lets himself look away from your face, he notices the way your thighs press together, how you squirm in place as you watch him, yearning for touch- and it gives him an idea. "Can I-" he exhales a shaky breath, fisting his cock just the slightest bit faster when you meet his gaze again, "Can I see how you make yourself feel good too? Can you show me?" Your face burns hotter, your legs pressing harder together as his question rings in your ears. You swallow, impossibly nervous but equally as excited, and you nod timidly after a few moments of careful consideration.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you mumble as you shift your position to get your pajamas and panties down your legs. You timidly watch his expression as you settle yourself across from him, aware enough that he should have a good view of everything (even if the action of spreading your legs for him makes you want to cover your face in embarrassment.) Chan exhales another breath as he tightens his grip on his cock, licking his lips when he sees just how wet you are. You're dripping and it's all for him, because of him- finally, his dreams become realized.

Similarly to what he did to himself, you rub your fingers up and down between your folds, gathering the arousal on your fingers before you bring them to your aching clit. You bite your lip, shy as ever and embarrassed by the noises that leave you. You close your eyes in an effort to ebb away the shyness and focus on the pleasure, but you're still starkly aware of his presence, of his eyes watching your every move. You can hear his low groans and harsh breaths, can hear the sound of his fist pumping faster when you let out another whimper between your bitten lip.

It astounds you how something this embarrassing can also be so arousing- you don't think you've ever been more excited than you are now, and the mess between your thighs and under your ass is definitely a testament to that. As the moment continues, with you timidly opening your eyes to watch him again, he doesn't fail to notice that you focus entirely on your clit, so he has to ask- "Do you ever- fuck- put your fingers inside?"

God, as if your face isn't already hot enough- but it's a fair question, and you answer as best you can between the noises you fail to keep internal. "S-Sometimes, but- it's- I don't-" you try, though you fail to formulate the words you wish to say; partly due to pleasure fogging your brain, and partly due to not even knowing how to phrase your thoughts the best in the first place. "It's hard? Doesn't feel as good?" Chan takes an educated guess, and you nod, relieved he found the words for you.

He understands- your fingers are dainty, and it must be hard trying to get them angled deep, hard to find the spot that makes you see stars when you have to contort your body to barely comfortable positions. "If you want- if you're comfortable, I can.. do it for you..? Help you?" Oh. If you're being honest, you've thought about how good his fingers must feel so many nights while touching yourself, wondering about how good they'd make you feel, how expertly they'd make you cum. "R-Really? You want to?" you ask- perhaps a stupid question, but there's still a part of you that can't even believe he's attracted to you, even this far into your relationship.

"God, yes, isn't it obvious? C'mere, baby," Chan beckons you back to him, and you oblige. You crawl your way back to your spot next to him, sitting on your knees but with your legs still spread apart. He takes his dominant hand off his cock, bringing it instead between your legs, slowly rubbing and getting his fingers wet enough to slide easily inside. His opposite hand resumes the motion on his cock, and you unconsciously tremble- both because of the hand between your legs, and because the sight before you is so fucking hot (to put it bluntly.)

"You're so fucking sexy," Chan utters, starting with just one finger, pressing it inside slowly, and your reaction is immediate- body shuddering as a gasp escapes you, biting your lip as he pumps his finger slowly, ensuring you're comfortable and adjusted before he adds another. "Pretty, so pretty," he continues, the tips of fingers rub your deepest parts with hardly any effort on his part, and when he finds your sensitive spot you positively jolt, every nerve constricting as if thrown in an ice bath, body tense, stomach clenching as the pleasure builds.

"My gorgeous fucking baby- feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, a theoretical question with no expected answer, but you're whining and nodding your head, your hips acting independently of the rest of you, rolling and bouncing and chasing every ounce of pleasure that can be derived from Chan's fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, simply keeping pressure there as the motion of riding his fingers provides all the friction you need.

"C-Channie, feels so good, think I'm gonna-" before you can finish voicing the words, you're gasping and crying out. You're hot, your dripping with sweat, you're utterly floating as you're hit with wave after wave of explosive pleasure. He doesn't dare remove his fingers until you've finished riding it out, but to his surprise, you grab his wrist when he starts to pull his hand away, your eyes glassy and pleading.

"More? Please, more?" you ask so sweetly, and again he throbs, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you- debauched, dewy, and flushed, world shattered in the best way possible. "Yeah baby, I can give you more. Course I can," Chan says before he's thrusting his fingers inside as if there was never a pause. Your eyes roll back as you bite your lip, your grip on his wrist tightening as you grind down against his fingers, always meeting them halfway.

When you open your eyes to look at him again, you can't help but notice that the pace of the hand on his cock is sloppy and uneven, and while you doubt you'll fare much better, you decide to take over for him, to try to please him just as much as he has you. You hear him utter a quiet curse as he takes his hand away, letting you replace it with your own. It's a sight, a feeling, that he wants engraved in his memory- you, riding his fingers while your hand desperately pumps his cock, giving him your best effort and trying your hardest to make him cum despite how much your arousal fills your brain with fluff.

"Fuck, baby-" he groans, reaching his hand out to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue shoving it's way in your mouth before you can even process that your lips are touching. His hips buck when your thumb glides over the tip, sensitive and leaking, your soft hands sticky and wet and perfect. You hold his gaze when the kiss breaks, all your shy tendencies and thoughts of embarrassment seeming to fade to the very back of your mind, replaced entirely by desire and need- not just to cum again, which you unmistakably want, but to watch Chan cum too, to watch him fall apart and know that it was all thanks to you.

The room is filled with the slick sounds of your hands working each other, of heavy, panting breaths, of low groans from Chan and barely restrained, quiet whimpers from you, a sinful symphony played exclusively for your own ears. "Oh fuck, fuck-" he grits out, clenching his jaw and brows knitting together as he tries to stave his orgasm off long enough to watch you fall apart again first.

You can feel his vein pulsing beneath your fingers, can feel him twitch and throb, and there's a sense of pride you've never felt before that comes with it- it doesn't just feel good to cum, you realize, it feels good to watch your lover cum too, to be the reason they're losing composure and falling apart. "Y-You're close, Channie? Gonna cum?" He groans as he nods, licking his drying lips as his head falls back, unsure if he can hold it back much longer than he already has.

"Yeah baby, gonna- gonna cum for you, fuck-," Chan, who knows it's only a matter of seconds before he has no choice but to let go, mercilessly targets your sweet spot, his fingers all but drilling into it as his thumb rubs messy circles on your clit. Your hips stutter before your body seizes with overwhelming pleasure, the pace of your hand on Chan's cock faltering as your eyes roll back and you surrender yourself to the blissful sensation washing over you.

Chan follows quickly, the sight of you cumming again on his fingers breaking the already impossibly thin line holding him together, hot cum shooting out and spilling on his chest and stomach. You collapse next to him, legs aching (your knees especially) and body utterly exhausted. Your shyness returns when he turns his head to look at you with a sweet smile on his lips, and you blush as you return the smile.

You're both messy, in desperate need of a shower and a change of bedsheets before you actually sleep, but you bask in the moment regardless. He reaches for a tissue on the nightstand to clean the cum off his stomach before it dries and becomes a pain to wash off, and the moment it's done you're back in his arms, being hugged tight with kisses pressed to your forehead, your warm cheeks, and then your lips.

You curl into him, one of your hands holding the locket as you return his affection, pouring all your unspoken love and affection into the kiss you share. Your first Valentine's Day of hopefully a lifetime more, your joy immeasurable, your love boundless; a perfect day with an equally perfect end. You tell him you love him as he helps you clean up in the shower, he tells you he loves you as he helps you get dressed before he dresses himself, you share “i love you”s as you relax into each other in bed. You sleep, happy and warm and loved, secure in the knowledge that truly, this is only the beginning, and there’s still years worth of experiences left to share.

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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50calmadeuce · 2 months ago

Text

EOL Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know.

Six years later...

Jake "Hangman" Seresin tossed clothes into his luggage with sharp, deliberate movements, his jaw tight.

Javy "Coyote" Machado leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed. "You gonna tell me what’s got you all worked up, or am I just here for moral support?"

Jake paused, his hands gripping a t-shirt before tossing it into the bag. "Just thinking," he muttered.

Coyote arched an eyebrow. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain female who may or may not be back in your hometown, would it?"

Jake looked at him, frustration flickering in his green eyes. "We had it all planned out. I get that long distance was tough, but I don’t get what happened."

Javy studied him for a moment, his usual smirk replaced with something more thoughtful. "You mean you don’t get why she didn’t wait?"

Jake’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply, shoving another shirt into his bag. "Yeah."

Javy nodded slowly. "You ever think maybe she was scared? Or maybe she thought she was doing what was best for you?"

Jake looked at Coyote, his expression tense. "We've known each other since we were kids. Y/N has always told me everything."

Coyote scoffed, shaking his head. "Hangman, she's a woman. No woman tells their man everything."

Jake shot him a glare. "Not Y/N."

Javy held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Point taken. But don’t let this eat you up, man. Maybe it’s time to move on."

Jake’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply. "Move on?" He shook his head, grabbing the bag off the bed. "I can't just move on, Javy. Not from this. Not from her."

Javy studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Then what are you gonna do?"

Jake slung the bag over his shoulder and met his best friend’s gaze with unwavering determination. "I’m going home."

You injected the shot into the horse's neck, then gently rubbed the area, carefully clicking the button to cover the needle.

The horse bobbed its head up and down.

"You'll be fine, Eirene. It’s just a shot," you reassured, stroking her neck gently.

Your brother, Cole, walked up to you as you untied the horse and led her back to her stall.

"You didn’t have to do this," he said, his voice laced with concern.

You glanced up at Cole, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "I know. But I wanted to. I'm home, so why not."

It was the start of summer, and you had finally decided to take a break from school. After taking classes the last five summers to speed up your path to veterinary school, you were ready for some time to relax and recharge.

Cole nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. "Good. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard. I’m glad you’re here, taking a breather."

You closed Eirene’s stall door and turned to face him. "Yeah, me too. It’s been nice, actually. I’ve forgotten how peaceful it can be out here." You took a deep breath, the fresh air filling your lungs. "It feels right, being with the horses again, getting back to something familiar."

Cole smiled. "Well, I’m glad you’re back. It’s been quiet without you."

You chuckled, a lighthearted feeling creeping in. "I’m sure you’ve managed just fine without me."

"Eh," he shrugged with a grin, "but it’s not the same."

The two of you started walking toward the exit.

"How's Dad?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"He's happy you're home," Cole admitted.

You made a face. "You know what I mean, Cole."

Cole sighed. "He's doing okay. He's let me take over more of the ranch."

"Well, it’s about time," you replied with a hint of amusement.

Cole laughed softly, a knowing look crossing his face. "Yeah, well, you know how he is. Stubborn as a mule. But he’s been letting me handle more of the day-to-day stuff, which is a good sign."

You nodded, a bit relieved to hear it. "Good. That’s progress, at least."

As you both reached the gate leading out of the barn, you paused for a moment, glancing around the familiar landscape. The fields stretched out before you, the hills rising in the distance, and the gentle hum of nature seemed to embrace the quiet. It was home, in all the ways that mattered.

"You think he'll ever fully let go?" you asked, your tone a little softer now.

Cole took a breath, considering. "I think he’s getting there. It’s just hard for him. This place has been his whole life. But he's starting to realize that maybe he doesn’t need to do it all himself."

"That’s good," you said with a smile, feeling the weight of his words. "He’ll come around. We just have to be patient with him."

"Yeah, that’s the plan," Cole agreed. He shot you a grin. "But don’t get too comfortable. We’ve got a full summer ahead, and there’s plenty of work to do."

"Bring it on," you said with a light chuckle. "I’m ready."

Cole grinned back. "I know you are, but what about school?"

You looked at him, your expression serious. "I applied for an internship. I should know in the next week or so if I got it."

Cole raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "An internship? That’s big. Where at?"

You gave a small shrug, trying to play it cool. "At a veterinary clinic in town. They specialize in farm animals, and it’ll give me hands-on experience. Plus, it’s just a few hours a day, so I can still help around here."

"That sounds perfect for you," he said, his tone supportive but with a hint of amusement.

Just then, your cell phone rang. You took it out of your pocket, glanced at the screen, and answered. "Hello?"

"Y/N Travers?" a voice asked.

"This is her," you replied.

"This is Dr. Weiss at Austin Large Animal Clinic."

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Weiss. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I heard you were currently home and looking for internships. A professor at your college recommended you, and I'd like to offer you a position here this summer," he said.

Your eyes widened. "I'd love that! When do you need me to start?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

You blinked in surprise but didn’t hesitate. "Tomorrow works perfectly. I’m excited. Thank you so much for the opportunity."

"Great! We’ll get you set up and ready to go. I’ll send over the details by email, but we’ll see you first thing in the morning. You can head straight to the clinic."

You felt your heart race with excitement. "I’ll be there. Thank you again!"

Dr. Weiss chuckled. "You’re welcome. See you soon."

As you hung up, you looked at Cole, still processing the news. "I got an internship," you said, the excitement bubbling in your voice. "Not the one I wanted, but I think this is better."

Cole grinned. "That’s awesome, Y/N. I knew you’d land something great. Tomorrow, huh? Guess it’s really happening."

You smiled back, feeling a mix of nervous energy and anticipation. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Cole placed an arm around your shoulders. "Well, let's go tell mom and dad the good news then."

The two of you headed towards the house.

That night, after dinner, you helped clear the table and walked into the kitchen where your mother was cleaning up.

"Looks like you're doing really well in school," she remarked with a smile.

"I am," you replied, a sense of excitement in your voice. "I'm really looking forward to this internship."

"Dr. Weiss is good," she said. "He's checked on our cattle a few times. Really taken care of the clinic since Dr. Shire's retirement."

"That's good to know," you responded, feeling reassured.

Your mom glanced at you, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard to get here. I can see how much this means to you."

You smiled, your heart warming at her words. "Thanks, Mom. It feels good to finally be getting somewhere."

She paused, setting the dish she was drying down and turning to face you. "I know it’s been a lot with school and everything else. But I’m glad you’re home. It feels right."

"I’m glad to be home too," you said softly. "It’s been nice having the time to recharge a little."

She gave you a gentle smile, her eyes soft. "You’ve earned it."

You nodded, a quiet peace settling over you as you finished helping her clean up. Tomorrow marked the beginning of something new, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

That night, Jake walked through the doors of the local tavern and made his way up to the bar.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't Jake Seresin," the dark-haired female bartender said with a teasing smile as he approached.

He looked at her with a questioning glance, then it hit him. "Danielle? Danielle Hayes?"

She smiled, her eyes lighting up. "The one and only!"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

"Ranching is fun and all, but sometimes a girl just needs a bit more," she said with a shrug, her smile still playful. "But what are you doing home? It's been… years," Danielle asked, her voice filled with surprise as she leaned against the bar.

Jake took a breath, leaning in slightly, his elbows on the bar as he looked at her. "Yeah, it has been a while. Things have changed since I left for the Academy. Just figured it was time to come back, see how things were."

Danielle studied him for a moment, a knowing look in her eyes. "Ah, so it's not just the ranch calling you back then. Something else?"

Jake’s eyes flickered for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a shrug. "Maybe. But who knows?"

"So, I take it you know Y/N is actually home. She hasn’t been seen in years, either," Danielle pointed out, casually wiping down the bar with a rag as she glanced up at him.

Jake’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of Y/N, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he masked it with a tight smile. "No. I didn't know."

Danielle raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the undercurrent in Jake’s tone. "That’s... interesting," she said, her voice light but with a knowing edge. "You two were always something of an item back in the day, weren't you?"

Jake’s jaw tightened, and he shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting her gaze. "We were, yeah. But that was a long time ago." He paused, then asked again, his disbelief growing. "She really hasn't been home?"

Danielle studied him for a moment, her gaze softening before she shook her head. "No. I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"After you left for the Academy, she got real sick. Almost missed out on going to school," Danielle explained, her tone quieter now.

Jake’s heart skipped a beat, and the air in the tavern seemed to thicken as the weight of Danielle’s words sank in. His grip on the bar tightened, and his gaze fell to the counter, his mind racing.

"She got sick?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, as though saying it out loud would make it real.

Danielle nodded, her eyes softening with sympathy. "Yeah, it was a rough time. She didn’t talk much about it, but it kept her away for a while. After she got better, she just sort of disappeared... didn't tell anyone why." She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before continuing. "I thought you knew."

Jake’s chest tightened, his throat dry. "No, I didn’t know," he muttered, the words almost foreign to him.

Noticing his reaction, Danielle quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, enough about the past. What can I get you?"

Jake gave a tight smile, trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. "How about a whiskey? On the rocks."

Danielle grinned. "Coming right up!"

Danielle quickly poured him a glass of whiskey, sliding it across the bar with a quick wink. "Here you go," she said, her tone light once more, but there was a hint of concern still in her eyes.

Jake took the glass, his fingers lingering on the rim for a moment as he stared at the amber liquid. He felt a knot in his stomach, the idea of seeing Y/N again after all these years both thrilling and terrifying. He took a slow sip, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the unease that settled in his chest.

"Thanks," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the countertop as he processed what Danielle had just told him.

He gulped down the rest of the amber liquid, placed his glass on the counter, and took out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, already reaching for the cash.

"It's on the house. Welcome back home, Jake Seresin," Danielle said with a wink.

Jake nodded, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. "Thanks, Danielle. I'll see ya around."

Danielle gave him a smile and a small nod as he turned to leave. "Take care, Jake," she called after him.

Jake stepped out into the night, his boots hitting the pavement with each heavy step. The cool air bit at his skin, but it didn't feel quite as sharp as the weight pressing down on his chest. As he walked toward his truck, he found himself wondering what had happened to Y/N during those years they’d lost touch.

He slid into his truck and started the engine, the rumble of the motor filling the silence. The drive home felt longer than usual, the roads seeming to stretch on, much like the time between him and Y/N. Every few miles, his mind drifted back to what Danielle had told him. Y/N had been sick. She hadn’t come home. And now, here he was, unsure of what to say, what to do.

As he pulled into his parent's driveway, the light from the porch lamp flickered dimly in the distance. He paused, sitting in the truck for a moment, the engine idling, as he thought about the decision ahead.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would see her.

Tags: @smoothdogsgirl @tgmreader @tylers-twister-gal @crashingwavesofeuphoria @lunatygerqueen @illisea @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @untitled-document-95 @kmc1989 @literal-tv-menace @malindacath

#jake hangman seresin #glen powell #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #jake seresin x you #hangman #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #jake hangman x reader #hangman fic #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #jake hangman fic

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insanescriptist · 1 year ago

Text

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

#time for Izzy to slep #Izzy does fic #jason todd #dabi

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writteninlunarlight-years · 10 months ago

Text

Two Sides~

Living in a small town came with its ups and downs. Everybody knew everybody, so any scandal or gossip was sure to spread like wildfire. That's how you came in contact with Lilith, the older woman who lived next to you.

You inherited your childhood home from your parents when they decided to retire and live life without you and your siblings. Moving back was not your ideal decision, but given your finances and how things were going, it was your best opportunity.

Moving helped you get closer to Lilith, a sweet woman in her mid-forties who was traversing life. She loved to sing and bake, demonstrating the good ideals of a comforting housewife. Yet when her husband would come around, the yelling and screaming said otherwise.

This is a small town, and with the gossip and rumors, it was decided that Lilith and her estranged husband were unfit for one another. No one would say that to their faces, though. However, Lilith would constantly tell you about the horrid things her husband would do and be up to.

He was a prominent CEO, owning a relatively large company and offering her riches farther than the eye could see. She never spoke of the business name or description; she just said he was loaded. You would have thought she was a liar had you not been inside her house multiple times. She was a picture-perfect trophy wife, and photos of her were displayed all over the house, none with her husband and only a few with her grown child.

You worked a humbling job of a good old 9-5 in a cramped office. The smell of coffee and B.O. around every corner. Yet that didn’t stop your young, spry self from partying on the weekends. Though your town was small, just down the road an hour or so, was a lovely big city with many clubs to party at.

Lilith liked to vicariously live through you, listening to your tales of the dance clubs and the partners you would go home with some nights. She also loved to discuss city life, as that was where her husband had moved her from. Giving Lilith these little moments filled your heart with warmth as you got to help make her feel more at ease with the rough relationship.

Tonight, though, was a Saturday night, and many of your old high school friends wanted to hit the club down by the big office building in the city. You were dressed in a candy apple red sequin dress with gold pumps and a snake clip in your hair. “Ready to go?” As you hopped in your friend's car, you saw Lilith sitting outside waving at you.

Heading out, the pre-party had already begun, with shots being taken as you guys made it to the club. Once there, it wasn’t hard to get in five pretty women, and a $20 tip, you oh so nicely gave the bouncer who escorted you all in. Once there, the group made their way to a side table where they could take turns getting drinks and dancing.

You were out on the dance floor having the time of your life, singing and dancing with your girls, when you felt the sensation of eyes on you. Turning to look for the intruder, your eyes landed on something far better than you expected. Upon the VIP booth sat beautiful bright blue eyes staring down at you.

The man was older, but god, was he gorgeous, from his eyes to the perfectly styled blonde hair, the easy grin, and the lithe body. He sat leaning back on the booth with a predatory smile. The game was on as soon as you two made direct eye contact. You were going to be his by the end of the night.

Motioning to his two guards, they went down to you and asked you to follow them. Never breaking eye contact, you nodded and were led right to the lion's den. Sitting next to the older man, you get an even better look at him. Gorgeous was an understatement. He was damn near a devil with how sexy he was.

His white suit was opened, showing the candy-red button-up half undone. His chest was proudly displayed, along with the intoxicating smell and jewelry he wore. You were fascinated immediately.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here alone, doll?” You melted at the nickname. The alcohol and heat between your legs cloud your mind. You were leaning in closer to the man, seeking any reprieve.

“I came with friends; however, I don’t have to leave with them.” You hoped he understood what you were implying. As a smirk spread across his face, you realized you both had a common goal.

He motioned for you to be given a drink. After you had said your order, a firm arm wrapped around your waist. Pulling you in closer, you rested right up against him, and his body heat was maddening. “My name’s Lucifer. What’s yours, sweetheart? With that dress, I might just have to call you Apple.”

“Y/N, but you can call me whatever you want, sir.” He purred at the name you gave him, instructing you to keep calling him that. You had a few more drinks with the man, learning of his business and his frequencies at this club. He was a well-known tycoon owner and was loaded—a lot like Lilith's husband. You were escorted to his car shortly after your chance meeting. The BMW was all black and sleek; as he helped you get in, he grabbed your ass playfully, causing you to squeak and giggle at him.

You two spent the evening at your house since his was occupied. There should have been your clue to ask more, but the way his voice sounded, and the touches sent heat to your core; it was like your brain wasn’t wired right.

Arriving at your home, he helped you out. It was late at night, and you helped him to your home. The minute the door closed, his hands were on you like he would lose you if they weren’t. Hot, passionate kisses that left you breathless and wanting more filled your lips. Hands were roaming each other's bodies.

As you two made out, the direction of your movements led you two to the bedroom and on the queen bed. As he laid you back, he stood up in front of you, a smirk on his devilish face. “Now listen, it’s still sir from now on, got it. Do as I say, and I’ll treat you good, princess. Listen well, and maybe I’ll keep returning to enjoy what’s between these legs.”

You nodded, mind clouding faster than at the bar, “Yes, Sir,” A quick Good Girl was heard as he dove into your neck, kissing and biting you all over; as soon as he found the spot that had you mewling he abused it leaving a bright purple mark on your neck. Slowly, he worked his way down to the tops of your breasts and shimmied your dress down.

With your chest now exposed, you thanked past you for deciding no bra was brilliant with this dress. His hot mouth circled your perky bud so gently, every so often taking a harsh suck or tantalizing bite to get a sound from you. He made quick work of using his other hand to pull and stroke your other bud. As soon as he had his fill abusing your one mound, he traded places, listening to you succumb to his touch.

“Please, Sir, more please…” You could feel Lucifer's smirk on your skin; he was enjoying himself too much. Sitting you up on the bed, he stripped his jacket and button-up shirt, making quick work of your dress. Pushing you down on the bed, he slotted himself between your legs. “Please tell me what you want, princess.” You whimpered softly at his words. You felt so good and so small at the same time. Motioning to your clothed cunt he smiled and shook his head. A light smack was applied to your spread thighs. As you gasped, he spoke. “I said use your words, princess.” Like you were hypnotized, you spoke again, “My pussy, Sir, please…” He smiled and rewarded you with another ‘Good Girl’ and a deep searing kiss. His kisses trail from your lips down your neck to the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, and right above your panty line. Looking down at him, you whine softly. There, Lucifer was the most beautiful man you laid eyes on, face inches from your clothed soaking cunt, and he was smirking like he won the best prize.

“Candy red is my favorite; I would almost think you dressed up like this just to lure me in, princess,” He placed his nose and mouth against your heat and inhaled before licking a thick stripe over your panties. “I am going to make you cum so much you can only think of me in this bed, darling.” You moaned loudly as he ripped the offensive cloth off your body.

Burying his face back into your pussy his mouth was divine. Every mewl and moan followed by a ‘Sir’ left you with his long tongue sliding in and out of you. He knew the perfect level of abusing your sensitive clit and then bullying your cunt with his tongue. He had you melting, and as he expertly rolled your bundle of nerves between his teeth, you began to see stars. The familiar bundle of white-hot need in your core was growing, something only toys and your hands could do.

As you arched off the bed begging to cum his tongue was replaced by smooth thick fingers as he spread open your entrance with his fingers. His skillful mouth expertly played with your clit till you finally screamed your high at its peak. He didn’t stop, though; even as you convulsed and cried, he kept the overstimulation going till he pulled another sweet body-shaking orgasm out of you.

Once he had his fill, he slowly sat up, face covered in a sheen of your slick. You almost came again just from the sight. Your body was tired, yet your aching whole clenched around nothing. Lucifer smiled and climbed out of bed, unbuckling his pants and letting them fall to the ground.

Rolling your head to look at the length you were taken back, the pale length was considerable and girthy, thick veins coating the sides begging to be squeezed by your walls. The red tip was fiery and throbbing, begging to release the load he was holding back after watching you cum for him.

Climbing back between your legs, he lined himself up with your sopping cunt. You nodded slowly and whined as he entered your tight hole. “That’s it, Good Girl, your cunts are already so greedy for my cock.” Slowly, he rocked in you so as not to unload himself already. As he rocked, you began to relax around him and feel every curve and vein on the massive cock in you.

Once you were consistently moaning and babbling, ‘Yes sirs’ and ‘Please harders, ’ he bent you entirely in half and began to fuck you hard. You had never felt anything like this or felt your bed shake as bad as it was now. He had your knees to your ears, hands holding the pudge of your stomach, and his shoulders keeping your legs apart. His cock was throbbing and only growing more in your cunt. As he fucked you deep in a mating press, a thick white frothy ring appeared around the base of his cock. Your screams and moans covered the squelching and slapping noises. Lucifer's grunts became more and more animalistic as he pounded into you. His pace faltered as he neared his limits; leaning back slightly, he placed the pad of his thumb against your clit and began rubbing it with just the correct pressure. As you began to see starts, Lucifer's moans became whimpers as he held himself back, waiting for you to cum a third time.

As soon as he got you over the edge, he was over you once again, slamming his cock so far in his balls seated against your ass. A few good thrusts, and he came deep inside of you, painting your walls with his thick creamy white cum. You were a babbling mess; from crying and drooling, you were covered head to toe in some fluid.

A satisfied smirk rested on Lucifer's face as he pulled out of your sore cunt. He rubbed your body gently, helping the muscles relax. As you lay there fucked out, Lucifer went to the bathroom and drew a bath. Picking you up, he bathed you two slowly and methodically. Once cleaned up, he took you both back to bed and helped you get comfy.

You smiled softly; you could get used to this. Sex shouldn’t define a relationship, but damn sex and aftercare, you may already be in love. As your eyes closed, you could feel Lucifer's gentle caress as he kissed your temple and said sweet nothings to you.

As day broke, you were alone in bed. You were hurt and a little disappointed. However, as you rolled over to look at the time, you saw a cup of water, some migraine medicine, and a sticky note with a sweet message and a phone number. Smiling, you stood and added the number, sending it a quick text. Changing into loungewear, you gathered last night's close, yet all you could find was your dress; your ripped panties were missing. Sighing, you ignored it, thinking maybe he had thrown them away already and headed to start some chores. While working on your house, you heard a frantic knock on your door.

Rushing to open it, afraid there was a severe problem, Lilith stood there red-faced and teary-eyed. Confused, you let her into your house and offered her some coffee. As she sat and drank, she confessed to you something horrible. Her estranged husband had been having an affair with a younger woman. Lilith only found out because when he came home late last night and took off his clothes, he forgot to take her underwear out of his pocket.

Your eyes widened as she pulled out Candy Apple Red panties that were ripped down the seam…… Well, you guessed there were always two sides to a story.

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #Lucifer #Theduckyking #thekingofhell

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month ago

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter Five.

Are you ready for Lucas as a free man? Because here he comes! :)

Summary - It was a crime that shook the metal community and beyond to its core, the Solna Satanic murder case blowing apart the lives of many. With Lucas and Nils - frontman and drummer of popular metal band The Hanged - trialed, found guilty and subsequently sentenced, few were inclined to believe either deserved any offerings of a second chance. Lucas, in particular, did not consider himself worthy until salvation came in the form of a letter.

Words - 4,070

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of violence. Of course, it'll be smutty too, eventually! Minors DNI!

She’d set her alarm for six, but had been awake since 5am, much too excited to sleep. Doing a quick bodyweight exercise workout (a little of Lucas’s influence rubbing off on here there) she took a long, cool shower, tidying her bedroom nicely and then preparing to get ready. Even though she didn’t have to be at the prison until 8am, she planned to leave early.

“No, not the dress. Too sexy. Casual. I need casual but oh my fuck, the heat already!” she muttered, rifling further through the depths of her wardrobe. Settling on comfy yet cute, she chose Lycra shorts and a vest top both in black, with a plaid shirt knotted at the waist over the top. She pinned her hair up in a cute, messy bun before applying her makeup.

There, she wouldn’t be quite so casual in her choices, deciding on a nice set of feathery false eyelashes and giving herself a dark, bronze-brown smoky eye with lots of kohl, a little blush and highlighter too before finishing her look with a slick of tinted lip balm.

Lipstick would be pointless, for as soon as she saw him, the first thing she wanted was the kind of kiss that would ruin even the most smudge proof of cosmetics. The little ritual of her getting ready routine acted like a calming tonic, but every so often she’d picture his face in her mind and her tummy would somersault.

Checking her reflection once finished, she added a few pieces of jewellery, happy with how she looked, spritzing herself with perfume before jamming her feet into her Vans and taking a few deep breaths. 7:15am. It was time to leave, with her excited little heart thundering away in her chest.

With every kilometre that passed along her journey, the internal butterflies only grew wilder in their merry flutter. She could hardly believe that the letter she’d sent to him three years before had led to this, her being the one to fetch him from prison as a free man at last.

Her. She was the one he couldn’t wait to be with. Her. God, she was lucky.

As she approached the prison, the imposing structure and barbed wire fences seemed less threatening and more symbolic of the freedom that awaited Lucas beyond them. The sun was already beating down hard, making the tarmac shimmer, but Erika barely noticed as she parked her car and walked up to wait at the main entrance for him.

Even with a little traffic to contend with, she was still ten minutes early, pacing around while nervously twirling a loose tendril of her hair. Her heart raced with anticipation, every second bringing her closer to the moment she had been dreaming of.

“Oh, my fuck!” she squeaked, seeing him through the reinforced glass panes of the large doors emerging from within, those heavy security doors then buzzing open.

There he was. Tall, strong, and unmistakably different from the man who had first entered there twelve years prior. Their eyes met, and a thousand emotions passed between them. With a smile that could rival the sun, Lucas walked towards her, the burden of years behind bars melting away with each stride.

Placing the bag and bass guitar case he carried down on the floor, he opened his arms wide. “Fucking come here, then!”

She squealed softly with utter delight, running into his arms, clinging onto him as they shared elated laughter, Erika burying her face against his neck as he swung her around. Turning to him, finally, she received exactly what she’d been craving; the kind of kiss that knocked the wind right out of her.

Their mouths didn’t break apart at all as his hands glided down to the back of her thighs, lifting her neatly and cleanly from the ground again, Erika wrapping her legs around his waist as their tongues continued to roll together sensually.

Holy hell, the man could kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and grinning, she leaned her forehead against his, feeling the reality of his presence wash over her in a wave of overwhelming relief and joy.

“Hiya!” she finally chirped brightly, making him chuckle.

“Hi yourself, beautiful,” he beamed, kissing her again. “I guess I should put you down and let you drive me away from this place, but I kinda don’t want to right now.”

“How about you give me another of those kisses until you do?”

Her suggestion was accepted, their mouths pressing together again. Inside, the glow he felt was unsurpassed. He was free, with the woman who’d shown him such unwavering support clung on against him, the heat from her body so closely pressed to his having the kind of effect that he’d expected. His heart raced even more rapidly than just her presence alone had caused, happily lost to the gentle, yet heated kisses they shared.

“Oh, so I’m not being put down any time soon, then?” she asked when they parted, Lucas shifting her around to his hip before reaching for his bag. Swinging it over his shoulder, he then picked up his guitar case, looking at her adoringly.

“Not just yet, no.”

“But I’m heavy!” she exclaimed.

Immediately, he scoffed at such a notion. “Bullshit, you’re not at all.”

For a man who lifted the kind of weights he did, she probably wasn’t. He carried her with complete ease, Erika feeling tiny in his grasp, which for a girl of 1.75 metres tall was virtually unheard of. She’d always been as tall or taller than any other man she’d previously been involved with, and none of them had been strong enough to carry her like she was a small doll.

Lucas, at a towering 1.93 metres tall, and what she estimated to be around 140kgs in weight, was vastly different.

“Wow, that’s a motherfucking cool car!” he exclaimed, setting her down beside her beloved motor. Being someone who took more than a passing interest in muscle cars, he knew what it was, the striking, gun metal painted vehicle a 1967 Ford Galaxie 500. “This is the one you did up with your dad, right?”

“Correct,” she confirmed, popping the trunk, the space big enough to fit both his guitar case and bag. “He bought it as a wreck at a car show down in the Netherlands and drove it all the way up back up here on a low loader. Worth it, considering he paid about four thousand euros for it as a heap. It’s worth about four times that now.”

They climbed in, fastening their seatbelts as Erika continued. “It’s fast as hell, too. We took out the standard engine and put in a big-block V8, so it has some power.”

Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, looking a little pained. “Stop it. You’re a beautiful woman who knows her stuff about cars. I’m getting way too turned on!”

“It does naught to sixty in seven seconds,” she playfully revealed, bobbing her tongue between her teeth.

He groaned, prompting her giggles. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll be fucking doing naught to sixty in seven seconds, too. I promised you twenty-five.”

Leaning to him, she gave him a few kisses through her laughter. “Sorry!”

He curled his lip, gently biting hers. “No, you’re not. Motherfucking terrorist upon my male hormones.”

“And you think you’re fair on mine, do you, looking the way that you do right now?” Smoothing her hand over his chest, she could have died on the spot. Oh, to touch him! To see more of him, too, his gorgeous, bulky arms and thick chest, shown off nicely in the black vest he was he was wearing.

Nope. Her hand didn’t stop stroking for a moment. “This chest is next level sexy.”

He looked her up and down, winking. “I grew it just for you, baby girl.”

The air truly crackled between them, Erika feeling less and less like she would be able to hold herself back, should sex be on the agenda. Why should she, either? She was a grown woman of thirty, knew Lucas was in it with her for more than just a quick lay, so why not?

Leaning for another kiss first, she turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring into life. Since Alex was out at work until 6pm that evening, and in his haste to prepare everything for his friend’s homecoming had forgotten to have spare keys to his apartment cut, they were spending the day together.

Lucas had said he wanted his first day of freedom to be low key, that he’d get around to visiting with the few people left in his life in the days to follow. She was really touched that she was the person he prioritised to be around first.

Sitting there comfortably, his hand rested on her thigh while gently stroking the soft, bare flesh with his thumb, he felt whole. More so than he had in a long, long time. With every kilometre that passed, spiriting him further and further from the place he’d been confined to for the past twelve years, a shimmer of restoration flooded his veins.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that while the prison had acted as just that, confining him from all he knew and loved, equally, it had been his sanctuary for a long, long time, too. It had put a divider between him and the vying mob who likely wanted his blood spilled after what he had done, kept him safe, nurtured his regrowth from troubled young man to the well-adjusted, fully grown one he now was.

Looking to his side, he smiled at the woman who he now very much saw the same way. Erika’s devotion to their burgeoning bond truly had been a safe sanctuary for him, too. Now, he was free to revel in it, and he couldn’t have been more elated.

Here it was at last. His second chance to make something of his life after his actions had robbed him of so much of it.

As they drove along the winding roads, the morning sun casting dappled shadows through the trees, Erika could sense a palpable shift in his demeanour. The lines of tension that had often etched his face seemed to soften with each passing moment, his gaze more serene as he took in the surroundings of his freedom.

They spoke of everything and anything along the journey, their words a balm to the wounds of the past, a testament to the bond they had formed and were now ready to work upon further.

“How do you feel?” she asked, manoeuvring the car onto the highway, away from the more rural surroundings of green and gold.

“Unburdened,” he replied simply, hand gently squeezing her thigh. He’d rested it there before they’d even left the prison carpark, making no effort as yet to move it. “Ready to start all over again.”

The beginning of that start was firstly to fuel his rumbling stomach, Lucas much too excited to eat at breakfast that morning, so telling Erika to find somewhere decent and he’d pay.

In his last visit, Alex had left a number of personal possessions he wasn’t allowed to have while in the prison with the booking wardens, ready for his release. These included a new cell phone, his thick silver curb necklace, his Mjolnir pendant, chunky silver rings and watch, plus a new wallet he’d stuffed with some of his savings' cash.

Their destination place was a small restaurant not too far from her tattoo shop, Erika managing to find a parking space and swinging the car in. They walked down to the eatery with the earthy, hippie vibe hand in hand, Lucas experiencing a little inner tension.

He didn’t know what the hell he would do, should somebody recognise him. Obviously stand his ground and be polite in the face of hostility, that was a given, but how he’d actually word a comeback to any negativity was beyond him.

It felt as if he wore a neon light above his head, the word murderer illuminated there for all to see, yet many people on the busy street passed him by without a second glance. To them, he was simply a big, tall, tattooed guy, walking hand in hand with a beautiful, tall, tattooed woman.

“What the motherfuck is a cronut?” he exclaimed, frowning as he read the menu before him a few moments later, sat at a table in front of the restaurant.

Ahhh, yes. There would be certain things that had passed him by while serving his sentence, new food fads being just one of them. “It’s a mix between a croissant and a doughnut. They’re not that good.”

“Noted. I think I’ll just stick to eggs. I know where I am there.” He chose them scrambled, with a side of turkey bacon, sourdough rye toast and steamed vegetables, Erika admiring him for his commitment to eating healthily. Taking the first mouthful, too, he saw that while prison food hadn’t been outright awful, it was still nowhere near as good as what was before him on that plate.

Or maybe it had something to do with it being his first meal as a free man. Perhaps a little of both. He couldn’t deny though as he sat out there, he felt a tiny bit on edge.

“You look, I dunno,” she observed, spearing the last piece of her pancakes with her fork. “A little tense?”

Picking up his coffee, he took a swig, the corner of his mouth upturning a little bit. It was more grimace than smile, though. “I guess I’m just waiting for somebody to recognise me, and the reaction they’d have to that.”

Reaching for his forearm, she rubbed it affectionately. “Don’t be nervous about it. Just shut them down, it’s none of your business.”

“I’m not nervous,” he stated, scratching his beard. “Merely apprehensive.”

“Well, don’t be that, either.” It was his first day as a free man; the last thing he needed was to feel anything close to negativity, although she understood why he might.

“Listen, I know for you, you were trapped in one place where your life wasn’t able to move on while confined, but for other people? It’s different. Their lives have moved on, there’s been other things to arise in the last twelve years to pull their focus. Trust me, people aren’t discussing the Solna Satanic murder like they used to.”

Her measured wisdom gave him pause for thought, Lucas slowly beginning to nod. She was right. While he’d remained in the same place, both physically and often mentally, the society who’d so reviled and condemned him had moved on. Could he say for certain he’d never receive backlash? No. Would it likely occur as much as he was anticipating? Also no. At least, he hoped so.

He was just about to thank Erika for her sage words, when, as if cosmically timed...

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you, but you’re Lucas Borgström, aren’t you?”

Looking to his side, he felt his spine grow a little rigid, until noting the expression on the face of the girl who’d asked him. Starstruck.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Oh god! I thought it was you, but you look so different to how you did! Fuck, I can’t believe you’re out of prison now, wow! Can I get a picture with you for my blog, please?”

He hated to let her down, seeing the honest excitement there in her. She was so young still, too, probably only in her late teens. “Sorry, no. I don’t want anything ending up on the internet just yet. Trying to keep a lowish profile for a while.”

She looked a little deflated, but accepted without fuss. “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry,” she apologised, Lucas shaking his head.

“S’okay, it’s fine. It’s just my first day out so I’m adjusting, don’t really want any attention, y’know?”

“Okay, no problem. It was great to meet you, Lucas.” She smiled, waving, acknowledging Erika with a little nod too before walking away.

Immediately she turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Look at that, huh?”

He crinkled his nose a little, scratching the back of his head. “Hmm, wasn’t expecting that.”

“No, because your immediate default is to be down on yourself,” she spoke gently, hand returning to rest on his arm. He moved it, entwining his fingers with hers instead, squeezing softly.

“Again, you’re right, I do. Thanks, baby. For calling me out on it.”

As Erika's touch grounded him, he couldn't help but marvel at the strange mixture of emotions swirling within. The encounter with the young fan had been unexpectedly positive, a stark contrast to what he'd anticipated. He wouldn’t immediately feel an internal change, knew he’d always be waiting for someone to confront him, or clandestine whispers and disapproving glances to be directed toward him.

However, one thing he could reply on was knowing Erika's unwavering support would serve as his compass, his true north. Smiling at her across the table as she finished her latte, he felt a glimmer of optimism breaking through his apprehension.

They stayed for another coffee, enjoying the shade from the nearby trees on what truly was a sweltering summer morning.

“Someone’s in demand,” he spoke, nodding toward her phone. It had been emitting a series of little pings all morning, yet she hadn’t bothered checking it much.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on silent.”

“No, no, s’okay. I wasn’t complaining,” he assured her, “just noticing is all. Work emails?”

Unlocking the screen, she took a look at her notifications. “A few, yeah. Mostly these are comments and likes on my Instagram page, though.”

Immediately, he held out his hand, eyes widening a little. “Show me? I haven’t seen anything regarding your work other than the sketches you sent with your letters.”

His enthusiasm flattered her, opening the app and handing her phone to him, Lucas beginning to scroll through. With every image that passed, his eyebrows only rose higher.

“That’s insane, seriously.” Turning the screen, she saw the gigantic back piece she’d recently finished for a client, all gone in dotwork. It had been one of her most challenging accomplishments to date, Erika truly thriving on the task presented to her in her specialised field of that tattooing style. He continued his scrolling, closing his eyes suddenly with a very deep, yet quiet little groan. The screen was turned again.

“Ahh, that’s Nicki practising her photography skills and using me as a model. That was the weekend away we had recently, just after I got back from England.” The picture that had captivated him so much was one of her posing at the edge of a hot tub, her legs looking impossibly long, hair tumbling in a dark, wavy cascade, green eyes glittering like peridots in the sun.

“You are unbelievably sexy. Tell me, how many more pictures of this am I likely to find? Just so I know how many buckets of water I have to go and ask the people of this establishment to throw over me?”

“A couple.” she giggled, resting her chin on her hand, she observed him keenly, quietly laughing more when he made much the same reaction a few further pics down.

Shifting in his seat as he looked out from under his eyebrows at her. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“I am?” she teased innocently, her heart fluttering at the look of desire right there in his bright blue eyes. “Trouble I bet I can handle.”

“You’ll need to, after I get my twenty-five seconds of shame out of the way,” he chuckled, continuing to look through the pictures. Once again, the phone was turned, but this time to focus more on her professional art rather than the work of art he considered her to be. “You did that freehand?”

Studying the image of Japanese style dragon she’d done on a client’s leg about six months ago, her nod confirmed. “Umhm, I did.”

“Motherfucking show off.”

“I could say the same for you, you know. I found an old video of you on YouTube a while back, having a jam when you were about sixteen.”

Lucas’s style was very much borne of his admiration for the late Lemmy Kilmister, bass playing frontman of Motorhead, one of his favourite bands. Distorted and chord-heavy, just like his idol, he played more with a rhythm-based approach, even favouring the same make of bass, a Rickenbacker.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t adept in other playing disciplines, though. It was usually how musicians became as stunningly talented as he was, following a rich and diverse path with their influences.

He was thoughtful for a moment, trying to place which video she meant. “Is that the one where I’m jamming to Nutbush City Limits with Nils singing?”

Yes, that was indeed the one. “That’s it! Whatever anyone wants to say about Nils, I have to give him credit. The man has some serious pipes.” She’d gotten shivers, listening to the drummer boom out the classic rock n’ roll song. It made her wonder why he’d chosen to be a drummer, with a voice like that. When Lucas had later joined in, singing with him, she could see very much though why he was the frontman. Wow.

It also fascinated her, that the guys in The Hanged were such true appreciators of music in so many forms and genres. Loud, blistering metal had made them famous, but their skills far extended beyond their chosen medium.

“Yeah, yeah. Nils is crazy talented. Plays so many instruments, has a great voice. He takes people by surprise, y’know? He’s probably one of the most talented musicians I know.”

His eyes saddened a little then, Erika spotting it immediately. “You really miss him, don’t you?”

The truth of that hit him hard in the chest for a moment. Since they’d been sent to different prisons, and inmates were not permitted to have contact with others within the system, it had been twelve years since they’d been in touch.

“I do, yeah. I really do. I miss who he was before all of this shit happened, before we both went down the wrong path. People say that he was always dark, something a little sinister about him, yadda, yadda, yadda. I suppose that’s true, but it didn’t define him, y’know? He used to be so giddy and larger than life, and that laugh of his. I’d crack up just to hear the guy whooping and screaming with laughter!”

Her smile was soft, cocking her head to the side. “Let’s hope that same Nils you remember so fondly is the one who’ll eventually be released, hmm?”

He could only agree, and truly hope so, too.

Leaving not long after, they headed to a place Lucas had been missing sorely since his time away, Erika driving them over to Tyresta National Park, a beautiful landscape of natural beauty.

They walked hand in hand through the gorgeous surroundings, their time there a serene interlude, a moment of reflection and connection with nature's embrace. For Lucas, it was a much-needed balm, absorbing the tranquil beauty around them. There, he truly felt the encompassing comfort of freedom embrace him in a comforting cocoon.

The air was a little fresher there although the heat still mildly stifling, filled with the scent of pine and the distant murmur of a flowing stream. Beneath the feeling of tranquillity, though, the burn of desire only began to glow further, a red-hot ember that tumbled between them with every kiss, every word delivered in flirt, every glance of unadulterated want for one another.

Leaving at just past midday, they arrived at Erika’s just before 1pm. Turning to her in the small hallway of her charming little bungalow, no words were exchanged, a gaze of pure wanton desire lingering.

He thought he’d be the one to dive upon her first, but it was her who grabbed him by the front of his jeans and hauled him near, their kisses immediately feral. Some might think it too quick, but for them, this had been building and building for three long years, the need in them now burning like a match dropped too close to a source of accelerant.

Little would stop the fire that had now been lit between them, if anything at all.

A/N - Did you like what you just read? If so, please reward your author with a little comment or a reblog. Your support would mean so much to me!

Next Chapter

#original fiction #original story #original stories #original novel #romance fiction #metal music #metal guys

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jevilowo · 11 months ago

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TEAM ASCENDED FORTRESS 2

An AU by me in which the mercs ascend to their ultimate forms

Oh God tumblr wrecked the quality-

More about the AU under the cut!

WOKE SCOUT: she started taking estrogen and instead of fixing her it made her worse. She gets into fights on twitter about neopronouns and has successfully cancelled everyone she doesn't like at least once. However, as cancel culture isn't real, this only lasted about three seconds for each. She managed to pull Ms Pauling also which is pretty cool.

SOLDIERSUNE MIKU: the ghost of Shakespearicles told him to dress as Miku and redo the salem witch trials. Only knowing one witch (Merasmus), he finished this quickly and now roams the country with Zhanna (who is now Zhannagane Miku after Mikus metal counterpart) spreading malice and wonder through the power of AMERICAN SONG COVERS. He uses a wig for the Miku effect, but is working on growing his hair out also.

MITOSIS: Pyro and Engie were shagging one time and they came so hard they did mitosis. Now theres 23 babey Pyros (count em) and Engineer is a single dad. There's a lot of Pyro Mitosis Lore™ in my head, but the basics are that they evolve into either humanoid, beastial, demonic or celestial Pyros eventually.

TAVISH, KING OF THE LOCH NESS: he did it he blew up that bloody sea monster and now he is king of Loch Ness. The self loathing has died down a lot which is great for him but his body is still a scrumpty distillery which is eh. Still, he has funky water powers and his partners Soldiersune and Zhannagane come to visit often.

KEEPER OF TIME AND SPACE GUY: Heavy was mad, he knew he'd been had so he shot at the sun with a gun. Instead of being a show off like that bitch Juno, he had a nice philosophical conversation and chess match with Time and impressed Time so much he was appointed as the guardian of Time and Time's partner, Space. His guns (the six angel thingies pictured) can turn into celestial weapons which helps in the protecting but people don't shoot at the sun so often so its a relaxing enough gig really.

GODDAMMIT ENGIE: after realising how much more efficient Gunslinger was than a lame ass human hand, Engie succumbed to his hubris and eventually replaced all his body parts with robot parts. Including his dick which led to the Mitosis Incident. Anyway. His chest is a dispenser which makes projects pretty convenient and he has a mini-sentry attached to each arm and leg, making him a walking weapon. This did not help with the god complex, but it helps with the single father thing.

THE INFERNAL DOCTOR: Medic kept attaching more souls to his own and selling them to Satan for power. Satan got so sick of this eventually he attempted to beat the shit out of Medic. By now Medic was slightly more powerful than Satan so this ended with Medic absorbing Satan's powers and basically taking his place. Somehow, his relationship with the guy who is now a celestial being was unaffected by this. If they really tried they could probably ascend even further. To godhood, perhaps. In any case, Medic becoming The Devil from The Bible did nothing for the god complex.

???: Sniper just kind of fucked off into the woods one day god knows what happened to him but Scout's convinced she saw him for like three seconds a week ago and "YOU GUYS HE HAD ANTLERS I SWEAR-"

RETIRED AND BECAME A FUNCTIONING MEMBER OF SOCIETY SPY: yeah. He's very happy with Scout's Mother (Maureen), and he's letting his roots grow out (his spy agency made him dye his hair black). He's even making an effort to be a good parent to Scout, bought her the trans flag ipad cover and everything, but she just keeps trying to cancel him. Maureen's sure they'll work it out between themselves eventually, but until then she has to keep finding more secure hiding places for the ipad (the best so far was the time she buried it under a tree a mile away, took Scout at least four hours to find and retrieve it that time)

There's also YURI MS PAULING, in which she pulled a whole polycule of beautiful women, but I'll cover her in another post.

Also TERFS DNI please. Woke Scout is just Scout being Scout (which is to say a bit stupid), and assuming all trans women are like that would be ridiculous. So fuck off.

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 months ago

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Is it weird to want to want something?

Its like an absence youve left so long that you cant picture what was there, what you felt under your fingers when you interacted.

Like a wound scabbed over that you dont recall the injury from.

Surely, if someone was ace or aro, they wouldnt yearn to want something this desperately?

To know if you can fallin love, or feel sexually attracted to someone or hell even just kiss someone and have a good time. But youre too old now and theres no one around who would even entertain the idea of trying something

You cant relate to all the stories about teenage fooling around and wonder if you missed everything and will always miss out.

But the mythical narrative of finding Someone who will bring those feelings out feels impossible. It happens to pretty little things, not something that looks like shrek in a cheap wig on a good day

Its this constant anxiety in your mind and you worry that youll die like this. But the anxiety of dating is too high. What if you find nothing? What if you never get that spark? Its a small world, people talk and the gossips are ruthless, the pool is small here.

And if you do like them but discover you cant manage kissing or anything sexual, or you can but its bad and infrequent because maybe youre broken, then can you blame them if they wont stay?

What if all your fantasies, the few you have at this point as a jaded old crone of a thing that cant stand their flaws but is nonetheless trapped in this body unto death, start with apologies for your body, your inexperience, a subtle statement about you being broken and that its okay if nothing works youll try to ensure they have a good time.

Theres flashes, which confuse. Someones hands, a lovely flash of thigh, a specific flash of a nice breast here and there and it doesnt make you rampantly horny or anything but you notice. An errant thought like those might be fun.. and you go??? What?? Its so rare its like a pie to the face from a multiphasic clown. There one minute, gone the next.

Anxiety leads you to watch tutorials. Thats a whole thing, you have some techniques now but why bother right?

Despite how hard you work on yourself theres always a flaw, always something not right. You feel disconnected from emotions and know that you were different before.

You almost wish that... someone would take the choice from you and do something. Which is terrible, because youre prety sure that exactly that, at an age you cant recall, is qhat led to being broken to start with. And then you hate the idea. Why are you like this?

You cant picture making space in your life for someone else and worry how the Mythical would change you. Its so tiring. Why cant you be normal?

Even fanfic, which is a beloved pastime makes you distraught and your stomach roil because even fictional characters can manage what you cant. Over and over again.

Shows and movies about love are crippling in a way they werent before.

You want to know that desire to kiss someone, to enjoy making out and patiently assumed a switch would go on at some point. You had a different outlook as a teen, no romantic partners but you certainly felt for a peraon and characters. Where did it go? Why are you a broken toy jammed at the back of the shelf, irreparable?

No amount of affirmations or meditation or mindful breathing or the expensive counsellor you have seem to help. Theres no one close enough to discuss with,esp and have them understand.

Is it because you are too aware of your existence and physical self? Smile a certain way to avoid looking hideous, dont show your teeth they arent straight enough, hold your arm this way to hide how fat you are, dont let them look at x side of your face its the bad side,are you making too much noise with your fat fucking thighs in these stockings? Who are you kidding with this bra, you have granny tits. Why bother looking nice at all?

And thia is it, is it? Every single day a loveless eternity questioning the motives of those around you because everytime you thought they were good friends you end up asked for something or wrong.

There are other things in life, of course, but... why did you miss out? Can you fix qhatever the fuck is blocking off your emotions and maybe the reason you cant find anyone attractive?

Can you be fixed or is this it?

#tired #some kind of vroken mess tbh #if theres s drug to fix it hit me up

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byeoltoyuki · 2 years ago

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✧ Give it to me ✧ - part 2

↳ Pairing: Bangchan x Reader / Felix x Reader (kind of)

❧ Genre : gang au / romance / smut / strangers to lovers / fluff / some fake texts

❧ Words: 31k

Part 1 : +17k ⎢Part 2 : +13k

❧ Warnings : Violence / mention of death / guns / mention of drugs / mention of human trafficking / smut (in part 2)

❧ Summary: Everything in life has a cost. Even freedom. To be finally out of your father’s clutches you were ready for everything. Including making a deal with the Devil.

❧ A/N: After rewritting this story twice, I'm finally done with it. Can't say it was easy and I can't thank enough my friends who had to deal with my mental breakdowns, all my complaining and frustration. Thank you to my baby koala for this lovely moodboard ❤️

Since tumblr didn't let me post the story in one part, I cut it. The 2nd part will come out shortly ❤️.

Hope you enjoy your reading!

▾▾▾

There were different ways of waking someone up; you could do it the nice way, for example, gently shaking the person, or better yet whispering sweet words into someone’s ear. You could do it the hard way too which sadly was what you were used to with your father. But being woken up with kisses all over your face? That was the best and something you were not used to.

“Y/N, darling, wake up.” Chris gently moved the strands of hair that were hiding your sleepy face. “Come on.”

You grumbled in response, trying to hide your face with the cushion.

“Y/N,” He tried again, pulling at your pillow.

Honestly, you didn’t know how he could expect of you to wake up when he was so gentle and his voice so soft, it was lulling you back to sleep. And you didn’t want him to stop.

“Five more minutes.” You begged and since he had taken the pillow, you pulled at your blanket to cover yourself fully.

“Y/N, let’s be realistic. If I give you five more minutes, you’ll never wake up.”

‘So not true.’ You wanted to say but no words left your mouth, too sleepy to speak.

Chris shook his head in amusement. If you thought he would give up so easily, you were wrong. He pulled at the blanket with much more strength, throwing it on the floor.

“Meanie.”

“And you’re such a baby when you’re sleepy.”

Maybe you were, but you wouldn’t let him win so easily either. Without him expecting you to move, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him right on top of you, hugging him tightly.

“Now it’s even better.”

“Fine. Five more minutes.” He rolled over, wrapped his arms around you and let you rest on him.

Yeah, just five minutes.

Five minutes turned into a full hour and it wasn’t really your fault either. It wasn’t your fault that Chris fell asleep right beside you, it was his own fault. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you got ready as fast as you could.

“Wait, where are we going again?” You yelled from your room.

“To the beach.”

Now that took you off guard. You ran to his room just to make sure that he wasn’t joking.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I figured you need a change of scenery.”

He sure knew how to make you speechless.

▾▾▾

When Chris suggested bringing you to the beach you thought it would be a short trip to the closest beach - honestly you would have loved it too. But no, what he had in mind was completely different.

After a five hours long drive, you finally arrived at a house standing nicely by the beach. As you got out of the car, you stared at the view, dumbfounded. The house was big and so was its wooden deck with stairs at the end that led right to the white sand and to the sea. You could perfectly picture yourself having your breakfast while admiring the sunrise reflecting on the water.

“I take it you like it.” Chris stood beside you, smiling proudly at his choice of escape. He knew how you felt about being confined every day at his place, he sincerely understood your feelings and he wanted to help. There weren’t many places he could take you without risking your safety, but this place was perfect in so many ways. It was far from the city; it was beautiful and only few trusted people knew about it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arm around his, leaning against him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Chris surprised you with a soft kiss on top of your head, making your heart flutter.

▾▾▾

That night, Chris offered to have dinner at the deck.

The weather was fresh with a soft breeze but it didn’t stop neither of you from enjoying the moment. In fact, Chris had prepared everything; food, wine, a warm blanket for the two of you, an additional hoodie of his for you. The few lights on the deck along with the soft sounds of wave gave an earie atmosphere to the place. It was cozy and comforting and warmed you from inside.

Nestled comfortably in the garden sofa, the blankets over your legs, you enjoyed the moment. You had to admit that it would have been a perfect date if only the situation was different. Did it stop you from fully savoring the moment? Not at all.

“Hey, look at that!” You pointed at the sky, “A shooting star!”

“Are you going to make a wish?” Chris teased in return, watching you instead of the sky.

You smirked proudly. Who cared if it was childish? You didn’t and neither did Chris. “Absolutely.”

You averted your eyes to the sky and thought for a short moment about your wish. For a very long time, you had wished for only one thing: be free. Now? You weren’t so sure. Not when you were sitting so close to Chris, not when you felt so safe and genuinely happy.

You glanced shortly at Chris and smiled. ‘Let us be happy.’

▾▾▾

Getting woken up by Chris’s sweet voice and soft kisses was quickly becoming your favorite part of the day, no matter that it was quick and that you were being interrupted in your sleep at impossible hours. It was worth it.

“Please, don’t tell me we’re already driving back.” You begged through your sleepy-state, barely opening an eye to look at him.

Chris kept stroking your hair, helping you in a way to wake up. “No. But I thought you would like to see the sunrise; the view is mind-blowing.”

That fully grabbed your attention. He was absolutely right; you did not want to miss a sunrise, especially not in the place like this one.

“You are mind-blowing.” You whispered

“Well, thank you.” He chuckled

You kicked the blanket off you, feeling perfectly awake and ready for another, undeniably, sweet moment with this man. “Let’s go!”

“Put warm clothes first.” He held you back by grabbing your wrist. You were too excited for this.

“Right. Clothes.”

▾▾▾

Instead of getting all cozy at the deck, Chris brought you straight to the beach and he came prepared. And by prepared you really meant prepared. He spread a blanket on the sand and a basket with two mugs and a thermal jug that you supposed was filled with coffee. If he was trying to make you fall for him, he was doing a damn good job.

You watched him settle on the blanket; he spread his legs and then motioned for you to join him right between his legs. Did you hesitate? Not even for a second. Did your heart slowly melt at the intimacy? Hell yes. The moment you joined him, he wrapped his arms around you and plopped his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Good?” He hummed against your skin.

You snuggled against his arms, sighing in delight. “More than good.”

The first lights of the day shyly appeared over the horizon. It was faint but so peaceful. This sight alone made you forget all about your problems. You pressed yourself a little harder against Chris which made him tighten his grip around you in return.

“It’s really beautiful.” You whispered mainly to yourself but Chris hummed in response, agreeing with you.

You watched in silence as the sun slowly rise over the horizon, bringing with it a beautiful, cloudless, new day. Watching the scenery before you, you came to realization that despite your life being a mess, you had never felt that peaceful, that free, and it was all thanks to one person.

You turned your head to have a look at Chris; you smiled, genuinely happy. “Thank you.” You weren’t thanking him only for bringing you here. No, you were thanking him for everything he had done for you.

Chris’s response came in the form of a gentle press of his lips against yours. Just what you needed to make this day even more perfect.

▾▾▾

Despite all your attempts at reaching Chris, nothing worked. But you weren’t the type to give up so easily. If Chris didn’t want to reply, you would find another way.

By another way you instantly thought of Jisung.

▾▾▾

When you barged into Chris’s office with Jisung, you had a strong sense of déjà vu. Except this time, it felt a little bit different. First, you weren’t a stranger anymore, and secondly there were more people present in the room. Minho, Changbin and even Hyunjin were here, looking not that surprised with your arrival.

“The pretty miss!” Hyunjin beamed and joined you to properly greet you. What a charming man. And probably a dangerous one too.

“Keep your hands off her.” Chris strongly advised which made you quirk a brow at him in amusement. When did Chris start being jealous?

“You’re all so noisy.” You heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the computer placed in the middle of the table.

“Y/N, meet Seungmin and Jeongin.” Chris introduced the two men as he pointed at the computer.

“Consider yourself lucky not properly meeting them.” Minho said from his place.

“If she can deal with your old ass, she can deal with us just fine.” Seungmin commented

Someone was definitely grumpy. You watched Minho being grumpier than usual which made you believe that something had happened and he was pissed about it. You took seat beside Jisung which became your usual spot now that you thought about it – judging by his big smile, he had noticed it too.

“What did I miss?” You asked and turned your attention to the men in the room.

Chris sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “You won’t like it.”

“While the two of you were having the little trip-“ Minho started explaining, looking pissed at Chris.

“Minho.” Chris warned him

“We planned an attack on Rick. We aimed for his main business: drugs. But it didn’t go as planned. They expected us.”

No wonder he was pissed. “But how?”

“That’s a million-dollar question.” Changbin admitted

“Is it possible that someone has betrayed you?” There was no other explanation. How could your father had known about their plans?

They all went silent at your question. All except one.

“Bold thing to say. Maybe it was you.” Jeongin suggested

Instead of being offended, you decided to play along. “Sure thing. Whenever I wasn’t kissing Chris, I was scheming with my dad and told him absolutely everything about your plans that I wasn’t even aware of. How did you guess?”

“I actually pictured the whole thing and I think I’m scarred for life.” Jeongin groaned in disgust.

“Joke aside, I’ve been looking into it.” Seungmin admitted. “Jisung has been suspicious of some men.”

You glanced at Jisung, stunned. It was hard imagining him being serious and controlling when half of the time he was cracking jokes and messing around. Yet here he was. You should have known there was a reason he was with Chris.

“I’m curious about something.” Changbin looked at you, his eyes piercing. ��What do you know about your father’s business?”

That, you could answer easily. “Honestly? Not much. I’m just a trophy to show off.”

“I can see the appeal.” Hyunjin wiggled his brows playfully at you which earnt him a nudge from Jisung.

“But.” You ignored him comment, “Before I left, he introduced me to his business partner. Kang?”

They all cursed.

“Guess you know him.” You concluded

“Another piece of shit.” Jisung admitted

“Should have killed him when I had the chance.” Minho added

You didn’t know much about Kang but if they all hated him so badly, you could only imagine the worst about him. “Kang has a son. I’ve met him. Maybe if you get to him, you can find out more about Kang and my father.” Then you remembered the tiny detail about Matt and you pointed at Hyunjin. “Should definitely send him.”

Hyunjin was not the only one surprise with your statement.

“Why?” Chris asked

“He’s his style.”

▾▾▾

“Turned out, you were right.” Chris said as soon as he got home and joined you in bed. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and let you use him as pillow. What a nice pillow.

“I’m always right.” You kissed his chest as a way of greeting him. “But just to be sure, what are we talking about?”

Chris chuckled. He kissed the top of your head, fondly. “About Hyunjin. And Matt. He’s clearly not as clever as Kang. Hyunjin had absolutely no problem tricking him. He had no chances against him.”

Who could resist Hyunjin’s charms? You couldn’t blame Matt for falling for his tricks.

“What did you find out?”

“Turns out, Kang doesn’t give a damn about Rick.” Despite his words, Chris’s voice got deeper and darker – you guessed he had something bad to tell you.

You untangled yourself from his arms and sat on the bed to have a proper look at him. “What is it?”

“Kang wanted you.” Chris admitted, “But since you’re with me, he’s using your father to mess with me.”

So it wasn’t just an impression at the party. Your father’s words and the introduction weren’t innocent at all. You couldn’t believe your father would go as far as sell you off just to gain more power.

“I escaped on time then.”

▾▾▾

Coming back to Chris’s company felt a tad odd. It brought back memories how desperate you were and also how eager you were to make a deal with him (and to see him too, but back then, you weren’t ready to fully admit it yet). You saw the same brunette at the reception. She stared at you, head tilted to the side; you looked familiar but it took her a moment to remember where she had seen you before. The moment she did, she hurried to prepare a visitor badge for you and handed it to you with a smile.

"Y/N, wait!" You heard Jisung’s whine behind you which made you pause and the pretty brunette blush madly. Apparently, someone still had a crush at the man. You couldn’t blame her.

"Why didn’t you wait for me?" He complained, out of breath.

"Not my fault if you’re slow!" You teased back. He wasn’t slow, you were just too eager to see Chris and have a lunch together. Was it that hard to understand?

"I swear, you’re getting meaner day by day." He complained and shook his head in fake disappointment.

"Now, that’s because I’ve been stuck with Minho for days just because you took some vacation in Hong Kong!" You reminded him. No sane person could stay sane after spending three days in company with Minho. No matter how better your relationship got, this man was driving you mad. The threats, you could deal with. The snarky comments too. But the pranks he would pull on you? You had to watch out for your every step. You didn’t know how any of them could survive.

"For the nth time it wasn’t a vacation!" He protested and paused as he noticed the brunette. He cleared his throat, tried to regain his composure (someone was trying to look cool and impress the girl) before waving his hand. "Hi, Jiah. Long time no see."

If he thought he was being cool, you were saddened to say that he wasn’t. He looked anything but cool. It amazed you, really, how confident Jisung could be with weapons, with decision making, and yet when it came to Jiah, he seemed like a lost guy.

You nudged him in the ribs. "You should just ask her out you know."

"Shut up." He whispered through gritted teeth. Then, to Jiah, "See you later!"

He pushed you with too much strength toward the lift, making you stumble in the process. Yep, lost guy. "I swear to god, Jisung."

"Shhhh." Then, once the door closed, "And for your information, I was in Hong Kong for work!"

"Yeah, yeah. So you said." You kept teasing him, feigning not being convinced. Jisung was just too easy to mess with and you liked it.

Reaching the top floor, Jisung stepped out first, running away from you; he walked fast to Chris’s office in hope to find an ally in him. Good luck to him with that, you thought.

As you followed his steps, you were surprised to see so many people on this floor. It was animated, people chatting loudly, drinking champagne or wine. Apparently, you had missed your invitation. You lost sight of Jisung, but it didn’t bother you. You didn’t mind being left alone among all those strangers who worked for Chris.

You took a cup of champagne from a table and took a sip as you walked around, trying to see if you could recognize some faces. Without success.

Too busy looking around, you failed to notice a man getting closer to you. He bumped right into you, making you spill your drink on your dress.

“I’m so sorry!” He took a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to you – you accepted gladly.

“No problem. It’s just a dress.” That would smell like champagne; could have been worse. As you wiped your dress, your eyes trailed to the man before you, noticing that something was off with his jacket.

“Sorry again.” He apologized, his attention on someone else. “I need to go.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. You followed his gaze, spotting Minho’s head.

Why did you get a bad feeling? Why did it only grow with every step the man took towards him? You didn’t hesitate, trailing after the man, trying to be as discrete as possible, which wasn’t that hard. The man had eyes only for Minho.

Your heart leapt to your throat the moment you saw the said man pulling a gun from under his jacket. Was he trying to shoot Minho while there were so many people on the floor? You couldn’t let it happen. Without thinking about your own safety, you ran as fast as you could, pushing some people out of your way.

The moment the man aimed at Minho, you yelled on top of your lungs, trying desperately to alert your friend before it was too late. “Minho!”

In the middle of all the noise, Minho heard you. Maybe it was because of his training, maybe because of his mind-blowing reflexes, or maybe you simply were that loud, but he heard you and it was all that matter. He heard you and saw the man on time. On time to drop down and avoid the first shot.

It was your chance. You pounced on the assailant, taking him off guard. Stunned, he lost his grip on the gun and you seized this opportunity to catch the gun and used it against him, pointing it at his head.

All hell broke loose around you. People scattered around, terrified of what was happening which was probably a blessing. Nobody paid you attention. Except for Minho, who got up from the floor, staring at you with both respect and admiration.

“The hell is going on?” Chris came out of his office, Jisung following his steps. The moment he saw you pointing a gun, he stilled. “The fuck?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The man cursed, shaking whether it was in fear or anger, you couldn’t tell. His eyes darted back and forth between you and the men standing not far from you. “You fucking ruined everything!”

“And you ruined my dress, we’re quits now.” You snapped. “Who sent you?”

“If you think you’re threating, you’re not. What a joke.” He spit at your feet – you didn’t budge, your held on the gun strong and firm as if it wasn’t your first time.

“And yet I’m holding your gun. Should I just shoot you?” You suggested

“If she doesn’t, I will.” Minho pulled out his own gun and stood behind you. One wrong move from the man and he was done for. In fact, judging by Minho’s aura, you believed that even one wrong word and he was done for.

“Kang is sending his greetings.” The man finally conceded, his eyes on Minho and then on Chris. “Don’t think he will forget what you’ve done to his son.”

Oh. Understanding dawned on you.

“Greetings refused. Bye.” You shot him without blinking, without regret. Apparently, there was at least one thing you had in common with your father: the killing without guilt. They said you never forget your first kill. Maybe. But you didn’t give a damn. Not when the person was trying to kill someone dear to your heart.

Jisung whistled, impressed. He pated Chris’s back in sympathy. “Good luck. You got yourself another psycho to deal with.”

You gave him the finger.

▾▾▾

You were trying a new recipe for dinner. For the past few days, you had spent your time either with Chris or with his men, planning against both your father and Kang. You didn’t think their business would interest you, but it did. Better yet, you felt part of their family. You felt accepted and respected and for that you would be forever grateful.

Your thoughts were however interrupted when your phone rang with a new message. You grabbed your phone, confused at first, but as you read the messages showing up one by one, your face blanched, your mouth went dry. No way.

You wanted to cry. Everything was going so smooth, so nice. You found happiness and once more he found a way to tear it from you. You wanted desperately to call Chris and tell him everything, but you couldn’t. Your father had made himself clear and you couldn’t risk Soojin’s life. What if the spy was still among them? What if he warned your father before you could get to Soojin? No. You had to go, but you were terrified.

Not two minutes later, your screen lit up once more but this time it was Minho. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest.

Before Minho could talk you out of your bad idea, you switched your phone off. They didn’t need to track you anymore; it was obvious where you were heading. But more importantly, you knew Chris would be the next to contact you and you feared that hearing his voice would be enough to make your will crumble. You couldn’t risk that.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

▾▾▾

Your father’s house looked darker and gloomier than in your memory. It hadn’t been that long since you left and yet coming back felt different.

John was the one who welcomed you at the door, looking smug as hell. You supposed, he still wasn’t over his little encounter with Jisung, and making you pay now seemed like a perfect opportunity.

“Knew you would come crawling back.” He told you as he closed the door behind you, sealing your fate.

No matter how much you despised the man and no matter how much you wanted to talk back, you kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t risk angering him. Not yet at least.

John led you to the basement. You lived in this house for years and you had never gone to the basement. You guessed there was a rather good reason for that and now that you had stepped inside you knew why. It smelled of blood and rot and death.

You walked through a dark hall in silence. The stench was making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything else. This place was hell; you worried for Soojin even more.

John pushed another heavy door which finally revealed a big dark room, without any furniture except for a chair in the middle on which Soojin was tied. Your heart missed a beat at the sight of your friend. Her pretty face was bloodied – didn’t need to be a genius to guess what they had done.

Without caring about John or even your father, you ran to Soojin. “I’m so sorry.” If it wasn’t for you, nothing like this would have happened. Your heart bled along with your friend, guilt slowly eating you from inside.

“What an endearing sight.” Your father commented, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You barely acknowledged his presence; he didn’t deserve it. Instead, you had your hands on Soojin’s laps. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you enjoy playing the little whore?” Your father asked, “I bet you did.” He sounded too cheerful to your liking; it sounded nothing but ominous. “It was so stupid of you. They wanted to have you for a while. I should have watched you closer. I recognize my mistake.”

Sounded like bullshit. “You’re crazy.”

Your father pointed at Soojin. “You think? I think, you should ask your little friend about it.”

You stood before Soojin, protecting her with your body in case your father would try something. He wasn’t making any sense. In fact, you were pretty sure he was trying to mess with your head.

“You think I’m the bad guy?” He pointed at himself with his glass, chuckled, and pointed back at Soojin. “Ask your friend who she really is.”

You really didn’t want to do it. You didn’t want to play his game; he was completely messing with your head. Too confused to actually speak, you looked at Soojin in hope to find some answers but instead of looking back at you, Soojin was staring back at your father. And what a stare. Her eyes were filled with pure rage and hatred, promising a very slow and painful death. The Soojin you knew was sweet and gentle. Yes, she could be mean to people, to annoying one, but those eyes, they were of a killer. You didn’t recognize her and it terrified you. You took a step back.

“What’s wrong? Cats got your tongue?” Your father laughed at Soojin. “Fine. My sweet daughter, let me enlighten you. This nasty woman is Christopher’s dear cousin.”

Your heart sank at his words. You didn’t want to believe him, you refused to believe him. And yet, when you looked at Soojin, you finally saw the resemblance. Not only the physical traits that Chris and Soojin shared, but their characters. How come you never noticed?

“Guess now you understand.” Your father said, “They have been planning for so long. And for what?”

He took a gun from his jacket and threw it at your feet. “I heard you’re quite good with guns. I underestimated you.”

With that he left the room, John following his steps.

You watched the gun, mind restless. You couldn’t stop thinking about everything your father told you. You couldn’t stop replaying the moments spent with Chris, with Soojin, with the others. What was real? What was a lie?

You grabbed the gun from the floor, the thing heavy in your hand. You turned to Soojin and slowly walked back to her.

“Is what he said true?” You asked as you stared down at her.

Soojin didn’t try to avoid your gaze nor she tried to lie. “Some parts yes.”

It annoyed you to no end that Soojin was avoiding speaking her mind. You deserved the whole truth but instead she offered you a simple apologetical look. “You’re in no position to bullshit me, Soojin.”

“Why? Are you going to shoot me, Y/N?” She dared you

“Tempting, but no. I don’t want Chris to get hurt.” As sarcastic as you sounded, it was the truth. You were angry, not because they had used you to get to your father but because they made you believe you were part of the team. Chris made you believe he cared for you. And it hurt.

Soojin seemed to understand your turmoil. “He really cares about you, you know?”

If only. “Excuse me if I doubt your words.”

You untied Soojin from the chair. Your father fought you were stupid and would believe everything he had told you – you didn’t. You plopped on the floor and sighed. This was getting really tiresome.

Soojin joined you on the floor, stretching her legs. She had been stuck in the chair for hours, her whole body aching in pain.

“You’re allowed to second-guess but he does care about you.” She insisted, “Yes, he wanted to charm you, to gain your trust but I think he underestimated how charming you are.” Soojin chuckled at that. She should have known that despite being Rick’s daughter, you were also a very interesting person. “His plan clearly backfired.”

“You all could have told me the truth. You knew better than anyone how much I hate the man. I was on your side from day one.” Really, they could have approached you long ago with whatever plan they had on mind and you would have agreed right away. Instead, they chose the hard path and made everything so much more complicated.

Soojin took your hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know. But Y/N, trust is hard to earn in our world. He couldn’t risk his family just because you hate the man. Imagine for a moment; you’re a good actress after all and has me fooled? What if it was all your dad’s doing?”

It pained you to admit it but you understood her point. “Man, it sucks.”

“What are we going to do?” You wondered out loud. You didn’t believe your father would leave the two of you alone forever, not like you would have minded. The chances of him coming back to finish the job were high and you didn’t know what to do.

Because he believed the truth would make you angry, angry enough to kill your friend, he left you with a gun. But what could you really do with just one gun? You could, maybe, shot your father, but there were still dozens of men roaming around the place. Could you escape? Not so sure.

“Does Chris know you left?” Soojin asked, hopeful.

“Probably. Minho knew right away.”

Soojin smiled knowingly and fondly. “Seungmin must have been spying on you. And yes, if Minho knows, so does Chris.” She paused to ran her fingers through her hair. “He must be so pissed.”

You agreed on that. “I’m glad I’m not around to see a very pissed Chris.” You could deal with his anger but it was never pleasant.

“He too. But I was talking about Minho.” Tired, she laid down and looked at the ceiling. “I bet he’s preparing some nice poison for you.”

“Wait what.” You blinked, confused.

“Did you tell him why you left?”

“Yes. I told him I had no choice if I wanted to save you.”

“Then he’s definitely pissed.”

You crawled closer to your friend and hovered over her, watching her face closely. The way she spoke about Minho intrigued you. Soojin never cared for men, not even the hot one at the parties, but maybe it was simply because she already had someone. “Wait, you and Minho?!”

▾▾▾

If your father wanted you to die of dehydration and hunger, he was doing a rather good job. You had spent hours, or at least it felt like hours, in the basement without food or water. Soojin’s face had started swelling with all the beating and you worried the cuts would get infected. You had to get her out of here.

You wondered if Ren was around. Was he aware you were back? Did he know your father kidnapped Soojin, your friend he knew about? Would he help?

John was the one to check on you. If you could call it a check. He walked in looking bored and nonchalant, playing with his gun. He eyed the two of you still sitting on the floor and arched a brow, surprised.

“She’s still alive.” It wasn’t a question but he did sound taken aback. Apparently, just like your father, he expected you to do the killing. They really knew nothing about you.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” You stretched your sore limbs before getting back on your feet, standing before Soojin just in case. John could be unpredictable.

“Oh I’m not.” An ominous smile spread on his face as he eyed Soojin like a hawk. “It means I can end her.” He pointed at the nasty, definitely recent, scar on his face. “Payback.”

Maybe you would be forced to use the gun after all. You wished it was against your father, to end things once for all, but John was a nice start. As he took another step towards you, you pointed the gun at him, ready to shoot. “She’s mine.”

“What makes you think I won’t hurt you to get to her?” John was clearly underestimating you. His mistake.

“Because of the trouble my father went to get me back.”

“Very naive of you to think he cares.” He shook his head and laughed darkly. “He got you back only to hurt Chris’s pride.”

A part of you didn’t want to believe his words but it made sense, which also meant that you and Soojin were in real danger.

“Y/N.” Soojin called for you, her voice weaker than intended. She didn’t have much strength left and she knew that a fight with John would end up in disaster. But you didn’t need to pay the price too. “Don’t.”

You ignored her, your attention fully on John; one mistake from you and it was over for the two of you. You couldn’t risk it.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You advised John as he tried to get close to you. Apparently, he didn’t believe you. Too bad for him. You aimed for his right leg and pulled the trigger without hesitation, making him stumble and cry out in pain. “Told you.”

“You little bitch!” He cursed, hands covering his wound. “You’re going to pay for that. I promise.”

Soojin whistled, amazed with the fact that you weren’t simply bluffing to buy the two of you some time. “Damn girl. That’s hot. I might ditch Minho for you.”

“Please don’t, he will poison me.” There was something fundamentally wrong with you; facing danger you still managed to crack jokes. But maybe it was just your way at coping with the danger.

John, despite the blinding pain, managed to get back on his feet, his gun pointed at you, pure hatred in his eyes. You were ready to shoot him in his second leg, not wanting to kill him yet. Maybe you were as bad as your father when it came to killing; you couldn’t feel any guilt. Not for someone like John.

None of that happened. Instead, there was a flash of light followed by a deafening noise. Because of the force of the explosion, John was thrown against a wall while you threw yourself at Soojin, covering her with your body. Fortunately for the two of you, you were far enough from the door which saved you from getting injured. Well, minus your poor ears.

You looked at Soojin, checking for any additional injuries – she simply nodded her head to reassure you.

And then you heard it. A loud and familiar voice, “Darling, I’m home!” That was definitely Changbin, you told yourself.

Hyunjin followed Changbin and pushed him out of his way. “You’re too slow!”

“Geez. I know you’re eager but no need to be rude!” They bickered as if it was a normal thing. As if they weren’t in the center of enemy’s territory. There was definitely something wrong with those two, but your heart swelled with fondness at their sight.

You got up from the floor, brushed the dirt off from your clothes and finally faced the two men. They were grinning at you, completely unbothered. And then it hit you, the gunshots, the screams coming from upstairs. They didn’t come alone and they definitely didn’t come to play.

And another explosion, followed by a second one that shook the foundation of the house. Whoever was doing it, clearly wanted this place to go down.

Changbin apparently thought the same thing. “Damn. Seems like Felix wasn’t joking about tearing this whole place down.”

“Can’t blame him.” Hyunjin shrugged and quickly reached you. He inspected you carefully, his brows furrowed. Once he was sure you weren’t injured in any way, he smiled. “Your father has shitty taste.”

“Tell me about it.” You snorted

“Hello? I’m here too! Nice to see you too!” Soojin complained as she tried to get up from the floor and failed miserably. Hyunjin quickly caught her before she could face plant on the ground.

“Oops, my bad.” Hyunjin stuck his tongue, nevertheless his grip around her tightened. “Sorry. Miss me?”

“Hell no, asshole.” Soojin snapped back but it was a lie, even you could tell it. She wrapped an arm around Hyunjin and pressed herself harder as if to make sure he was real.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot movements. It was John, attempting desperately to reach for his gun. You quickly got to him and kicked the gun away from him. Without his gun and with his injuries, he looked weak and just like any other bastards.

“Go to hell, John.” Were your last words to him before you pulled the trigger.

▾▾▾

Instead of leaving right away, they let you watch the house burn from outside. They didn’t question you; Hyunjin and Changbin exchanged a knowing look and simply let you be.

You watched the house being destroyed without feeling any pain, any regret, except maybe for the fact that you wished your mother could see it now. All the bad memories that this place held were being washed away. All the evil your father had done to your family vanishing with it.

“Good riddance.” You whispered and turned your back to the house, not caring anymore.

A car stopped right before your group, you barely registered it until a very wild Jisung came out of it and pounced right on you, crushing you in his arms.

“I was so fucking worried!” He complained and pressed a kiss to your head. “Don’t ever do that again, ok? I think Chris had a heart attack when he found out.”

You knew deep inside you were safe from the moment you stepped outside and could inhale the fresh air, but it was only when you heard Jisung’s voice that it finally hit you. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him back with all your might.

“Thank you for coming for me.” You whispered against his chest, refusing to look at him. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry if you saw his worried face. “For us.”

There was another blast that made you all look back at the house. The roof had been completely blown up.

Hyunjin looked at Changbin, judging him openly. “How many explosives did you give him exactly?!”

Changbin shrugged, unfazed. “Listen, he waited to tear this place down for so long. How could I say no?”

It dawned to you then that there was someone else from their group inside the house, someone who apparently held big grudges against your father. Not like you were complaining. But judging by the state of the house, his hatred was real and unstoppable.

“How about we go home?” Jisung suggested, “Soo needs to get treated.”

“I’m fine!” Soojin protested.

She was not fine and everybody could see it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You look like shit and I promised Minho to get you out.” Jisung was merciless with his words but he was kind of right too. Soojin looked awful and couldn’t hold on her two feet if not for Hyunjin’s help.

At the mention of Minho’s name, Soojin relaxed in Hyunjin’s arms, his name working like magic on her.

“Do we wait for Felix?” Changbin asked and glanced over his shoulder.

Jisung followed his gaze and shook his head, his decision made. “He knows his way home.”

▾▾▾

During all this time you thought Chris’s place was where the real decisions were made, during his late meetings. Turned out, you were terribly wrong. As you got out of the car, stumbling on your way, you found yourself staring at a big house. But maybe calling it a house was not the right word. Mansion would be more appropriate.

You eyed the men that came to your rescue, bickering about trivial matters. They weren’t just part of the same organization or working for Chris. No, you realized that they were more than that. They were a family. And you envied them. The sense of belonging, of sharing this kind of bond; you hoped you would experience it one day too.

You barely took two steps, Minho appeared out of thin air, pushed you out of his way just to get his hands on Soojin. He had his hands on her shoulders, fingers digging into her skin as he eyed her, every spot, every cut, making his frown only deepen.

“I’m going to kill him.” He groaned and then abruptly turned to face you. “You! I’m so not fucking done with you.”

So typical Minho – you couldn’t stop the laugh, although a very tired one, escape from your mouth. “Yeah, good to see you too.” And you really meant it.

“Are we going to stand here or can we go in?” Changbin complained, “I’m hungry!”

“When are you not?”

But they did follow him inside.

Jisung wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pointed with his free hand at the house.

“Welcome home, Y/N.” He told you with a blinding smile that brought tears to your eyes.

▾▾▾

Jisung had left you to rest in one of many rooms of the house and judging by the style and by the few clothes you spotted, you guessed it was Chris’s. Too tired to think over it, you plopped on the bed and instantly fell asleep. But your sleep was far from resting. You dreamt of all the dead bodies you saw inside your house. You dreamt of fire and screams. You dreamt of your father who was trying to kill you.

You sat up with a jolt, panting and sweating, your heart beating fast in your chest. It was common to have nightmares after a bad experience, you told yourself, but it didn’t make it easier.

It was still dark outside; you didn’t know how long you had slept but it was not enough. You were about to go back and try to get some more sleep when you spotted a dark figure in the corner of the room. You frowned, thinking for a second that it was just your imagination but then it moved again.

No. There was someone in the room.

The shadow moved once more, getting closer until your eyes got used to the dark, until you realized who was in your room. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It had to be another dream. You pinched your arm just to make sure – the pain was real. Then, Ren had to be real too.

“Hi Y/N.” Ren said as he approached the bed, looking more nervous than you had ever seen him.

Ren was alive. Ren was safe. With the past events, you didn’t have time to stop and think what had happened to him. You hoped, deep inside, that he was safe, that he had left on time and now that he stood before you, relief washed over you.

“Oh my god.” Without thinking, you jumped out of the bed and straight into his arms.

Ren tensed at your hug, not expecting this kind of welcoming from your part, but after a moment he hugged you back. You weren’t the only one relieved, he was too. The moment he had heard about you going back to the house, he had lost it. Seeing you now, safe and sound, comforted him, more than he wished to admit.

“I’m glad you’re ok.” He whispered as he inhaled your sweet, familiar scent. His arms tightened around your body, scared that you could vanish at any moment.

“I was scared for you, you know?” You pulled away for him only to have a better look at his face. You pushed back rebellious curls from his face. “I was praying you weren’t stuck in the fire.”

Ren shook his head before taking your hands and bringing them to his lips. He placed a soft kiss to your knuckles bringing comfort you didn’t know you needed. “I was. But only to make sure it burnt to the ground.”

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, his words not making much sense to you. Then you wondered: how come he was inside Chris’s place? Unattended. There was no way any of them would let him roam around the place. There was no way any of them would let him leave the house. You saw their previous interaction and the animosity between them were real. But was it?

Changbin’s words echoed in your mind, playing on repeat. There was someone else in the house. Someone who wanted the place to disappear from the face of the earth. Someone who had enough reason to hate the place as much as you did. It clicked.

You pulled back from Ren, confusion written all over your face. “You’re Felix.”

All this time you thought Ren, well Felix now you guessed, was your father’s dog (like Chris’s had previously called him) when in fact, he was a perfect actor who had your father fooled. Who had you fooled. Were you disappointed you hadn’t noticed it before? Maybe a little. But it was nothing compare to the relief you felt. Felix had always been on your side.

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a real question but you saw his hesitation.

“Not really.” You admitted, too tired to explain your feelings. “I think it’s time I have a long conversation with Chris. And you too. I want to hear your story.”

“Rest some first, we’ll talk later.”

What a good idea.

▾▾▾

Soojin was the one who came to get you, just on time when you finished preparing. She looked much better than last night, her face not so swollen anymore, and a happy smile plastered on her face.

“You good?” She asked, linking her arm with yours as you walked through the hall, completely lost. This place was too huge for you to remember anything. For now at least.

“Nervous?” You were more than nervous and you bet she could feel it too.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were so damn nervous. Maybe it was because of the whole truth you were about to find out. Maybe it was just the idea of seeing Chris again; you couldn’t deny the fact that you were dying to see him, to find out if your relationship was real. But there was another reason you were feeling nervous and it had everything to do with the tiny usb-stick in your pocket. It was so tiny and yet it weighted heavier than anything else.

“It’s okay.” She said and patted your arm. “So is Chris.”

▾▾▾

Without surprise, the room was noisy, so loud you could hear it from the other side of the hall. Not surprising considering all those men did was bickering.

“How dare you steal my chicken wing!” You heard Changbin loud and clear.

“Not my fault you’re slow!” Jisung replied nonchalantly in return.

Those adorable idiots, you thought to yourself.

“Why is it always the two of you?” Hyunjin complained, shaking his head in both despair and disapproval. When really, he was being just as loud as them.

Soojin gave you a nudge to help you get inside the room instead of standing by the door. You looked at her over your shoulder and saw her pretty smile that gave you the courage you needed to go in.

Your eyes darted around the room, noticing two faces that you supposed belonged to Seungmin and Jeongin. Felix was on his phone, oblivious to the mess around him. You noticed he looked different, more relaxed, younger too and definitely in his element. Chris and Minho were setting the table, exchanging few words here and there.

‘A family.’ You repeated to yourself.

Seungmin was the first to notice your presence in the middle of the chaos. He stopped chewing on his chicken wing, his eyes lightening up in mischief. “Hey old man, your girl is here.”

Chris turned his head so quickly; you thought your heard it crack. He opened his mouth to say your name but no sound left his mouth.

At the sight of him, your heart started acting up, urging you to get closer to him, to touch him. You did none of that.

“This is awkward.” Jeongin scratched his head as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Chris. “Hi, I’m Jeongin.”

“Which means,” You turned to the other man, “You’re Seungmin.”

In the corner of your eyes, you noticed Felix staring at you, his face unreadable and yet his eyes were shining brightly – happy to see you.

“This is going to be so fun.” Seungmin commented sarcastically. Soojin didn’t hesitate and slapped the back of his neck.

It was so tempting to play his little game; you would have if you weren’t so damn hungry. “Screw it, I’m too hungry.” Minho pushed a plate towards you right away which made you quirk a brow at him. “Smells too good to be real. Did you put some poison in?”

“Not this time.” Minho smirked.

▾▾▾

“How come you never asked anything in return for your help?” You asked Chris once you had finished your food. It wasn’t the only question in your mind, there were tons but you decided you could start with a simple one. At least, it seemed to you like it was a simple question.

Minho chocked on his drink, taken aback by your question. “Are you really asking it only now?”

For the sake of your sanity and to avoid any conflict with him (though now that your stomach was full, you were definitely ready to throw punches), you chose to ignore him and instead stared at Chris. Chris was the one, after all, who owed you answers. Along with Felix.

“It’s because of him.” Chris pointed at Felix; taken you completely off guard with this reply.

Your gaze slid to Felix. Knowing that his affection for you was real, was truly relieving. All this time you had hoped he would choose you over your father, that all the moments you shared were enough to sway him. And it was. Real.

“And because of your mom, Sarah.” Chris added

“What.” You could understand, to some extent, for Felix, but your mom, it didn’t make much sense. How could she have known Chris?

“I’m not sure where to begin.” He admitted, rubbing his neck. “I met your mother last year. She came to me, seeking my help. You can believe me when I say I couldn’t believe my eyes. Why would Rick’s wife come asking for my help?”

“Pretty sure you kicked her out of your office.” Changbin commented, remembering the exact moment.

“But your mother was a very stubborn woman. She came back the very next day, unbothered. I was tempted to kick her out again but instead, I listened. And what a story. A week prior, three of my men got slaughtered, I was sure Rick was behind it and Sarah brought me the proof I needed.”

“Why would she do that?” You asked, your voice shaky, betraying just how troubled you were. Your mom was involved with Chris at some point, but why.

“She wanted him dead, Y/N.” Chris admitted, “She wanted him dead so you could have a normal life.”

“When-“ Your voice cracked under the emotion, “When exactly did it happen?”

“When you had escaped.” Felix was the one answering that question. “By the time I got you back, she had vanished.”

No. No. No. You refused to acknowledge this. While you were selfishly living your life, escaping without even trying to bring your mother with you, she was fighting a battle for your sake.

“Y/N.” Felix called for you and only then you realized tears had starting rolling down your cheeks.

You had to get out of here, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

So you did what you knew best: you ran.

▾▾▾

Knowing the whole truth was supposed to help you to understand, to make things easier. It did none of that. Maybe in the end, being oblivious was a blessing, maybe then you wouldn’t feel as if someone had torn your heart in pieces. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be feeling so damn guilty. You always told yourself that you weren’t a selfish person but, turned out you absolutely were. If you hadn’t been so self-centered you would have known about your mom’s plans, maybe you could have helped even. Instead, you let her take unimaginable risks by herself, fighting a battle you should have taken part in.

“I’m so so sorry, mom.” You wept and let yourself fall on your knees. You barely managed to reach the garden in hope to be left alone, in hope the fresh air would sooth your pain. It did none of that.

Instead, images of your mother flooded your mind, the good, the bad, all of them. You remembered her gentleness, how she would always tend to your wounds, how she would sing to you to help you sleep.

The very last time you saw her was the day you escaped. That day, when you thought you were being subtle, you saw her by the house’s gate. She should have told you something, maybe then it would have made a difference. But she didn’t. She gave you a warm, loving hug and told you to be careful.

“God, I should have told you to come with me.” You cursed yourself for being so stupid. “Mom.”

Despite your wish to be left alone, Chris came to find you. He couldn’t let you cry by yourself. There was nothing he could say or do to make the pain go away, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t offer you his shoulder to cry on. He sat on the ground by your side and fully pulled you in his arms, letting your tears wet his shirt. He let you pour your heart while softly stroking your hair, slowly rocking you in hope to appease you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He muttered against your head. “I’m sorry for not telling you the whole truth. Especially about your mom.”

But it would have made no difference. There was no escape from the pain, from the heartbreak.

Chris cupped your face, careful as if you were fragile and would break between his hands. His heart broke a little more at the sight of your red face and swollen eyes. He could feel your anguish, your heartbreak and beyond anything your wish to see your mother one last time.

He whipped your tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry. Can I take you back inside?”

You gave him the tiniest nod you could muster, too drained. Chris lifted you effortlessly, carrying you bridal-style inside the house, letting your head rest against his chest.

Chris brought you back to his room and let go of you only to put you on the edge of his bed. By the time he got you back, you had finally stopped crying and were slowly able to clear your mind and think. You watched him in silence, wondering what he was thinking about. Was he thinking about his own guilt? Was he thinking about your relationship? Ever since you had found out about the whole plan, you didn’t get the chance to talk. Did he really care for you like Soojin told you?

“I don’t blame you for my mom.” You said quietly. “Actually, I think I should be thanking you for trying to help her. For siding with her. At least, someone did.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m an honorable person, Y/N. I did initially for revenge.” It pained him to admit but it was the truth. His intentions were far from good. At first at least.

“Maybe. But didn’t you have a change of heart?” You bet he did.

“I did. I admired her determination and her courage. She was a bright, clever woman. In fact,” Chris chuckled at the memory, “You remind me of her. The first time we met, she barged into my office. Just like you.”

“Guess it runs in the family.” You chuckled sadly. You grabbed gently Chris’s fingers, half wanting to finally touch him, half needing his comfort. “I need it to be over, Chris. I want him to pay for the pain he caused. For the people he killed.”

Chris took you off guard as he slowly slid on the floor, kneeling right before you. He interlocked his fingers with yours, eyes on you. You stared at him, stunned, heart pounding against your ribs.

“He will pay, Y/N. For everything.” He promised you. His eyes were filled with so much emotions, determination, longing, lust, it knocked the wind out of you.

“I know you’ve been wondering about us, if it was real or not. It was. Every moment I spent with you were like a breath of fresh air. I got addicted to your smiles and to your laughs, and to your little dances in the middle of my kitchen.” He paused to place a kiss on your hand. “I don’t want it to stop. I can’t promise you a completely normal, free of danger life.” His voice cracked a little under the emotions, at his confession. “Please, stay. Stay with me when it’s all over.”

You thought you had no more tears left in your body. Turned out, you were wrong. His words broke you and healed you at the same time. How could you say no to him? How could you give up on all your little moments? To give up on his touches? His kisses? Simple. You couldn’t. “You’re stuck with me.”

You had seen Chris’s smiles dozens of times but this one? This one was the brightest you had ever seen, full dimples on display, filling your heart with so much fondness. You lunged for him, crashing your mouth against his. God, you had missed it. Those delicious lips, his sweet taste, his warmth.

Chris’s hand found your head, fingers tangled in your locks, pushing you against him to deepen the kiss. He wanted you to feel all his emotions at once, wanting to feel how real it was. No pretending. No more lies. And you let him.

You broke the kiss only to get back on your feet and slowly pull your t-shirt over your head and threw it on the floor, quickly followed by your bras. Chris inhaled sharply at the sight. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Touch me.” You pleaded, desperate to feel more of him. You needed him. And who was he to deny you that?

Chris gently pushed you back on the bed, watched how your breasts bounced, how your lips parted to let out a quiet gasp. He quickly disregarded his own shirt before he crawled on the bed, hands slowly traveling from your ankles to your hips, to your bare stomach. He couldn’t stop himself from placing a kiss on your belly-button before quickly unbuttoning your pants, pulling them off you. He admired you once more, laying with only your panties on, looking incredibly beautiful and delicious. He wanted nothing more than kiss every inch of your skin, every mole, every scar, marking you for all to know you were his.

“Chris.”

“You’re so beautiful, love.” He lowered himself to place a kiss on your right ankle. “So, so beautiful.” Too slowly to your liking, he left a trail of kisses going from your ankle, to your knee, to your thigh, taking a moment to bite on your flesh.

With every brush of his lips, you felt yourself getting wetter, needing him desperately to give you more. “Please, Chris.”

“Hm?” He hummed against your stomach, taking his sweet time exploring your body before finally reaching your lips, capturing your mouth with his. “So precious.”

You were slowly melting under his touches, with his every kiss, with his every word, there was no escape from your feelings, no deny from how deeply you fell for this man. You plunged your fingers through his soft locks, pulling gently as you moaned into the kiss, wanting desperately to feel all of him.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid one hand between your bodies, fingers gently brushing your clothed center. Chris growled in satisfaction, realizing just how wet you were just for him when he had barely touched you.

“I wonder who got you so wet, precious.” He smirked against your lips, smug as hell.

Just out of spite, when really it was obvious, you tug at his hair. “Clearly not you.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, the press of his fingers firmer now, shutting you up completely with this simple move. You bit on your lips to stop yourself from moaning but he saw through you. “Nice try.”

Chris’s lips slid to press a kiss to your throat, licking on your skin, marking you while his hand pushed your panties aside and slipped a finger inside with ease.

“Chris.” You moaned, slowly losing yourself. “Please.” No matter how much you wanted to play coy, you couldn’t. Not when his lips were devouring every inch of your skin and especially not when he added another finger inside you, making you moan louder and clench around him.

“So responsive.” He cooed at you, admiring how your body reacted to him. Admiring how red your skin got with all his bites. Admiring how beautiful and lost you looked under him. Sliding down your body, he left some more marks.

Chris took the last piece of cloth from you before settling between your legs. He took a moment to admire his meal.

“Mine.” He growled.

The first lick of his tongue made you lose it, your body on fire. You threw your head back, hands gripping tightly the sheets, needing something to hold onto. Chris feasted on you like a starved man, and maybe he was after denying himself for so long. With every kiss, with every flick of his tongue, with every groan of satisfaction he made, you felt the pressure building more and more.

“I think I can die in peace now.” Chris admitted which made you glance at him. The sight of him alone almost made you come. His eyes, darker than you ever saw, staring back at you, his pretty lips covered with your juices.

“Don’t you dare.” You managed to say in your dizziness.

“Or what?” He dared you while he pushed two fingers inside of you, silencing you so easily. There was nothing you could say, mind going blank as he worked so nicely on you, with his lips, tongue and fingers. A dance that he knew would end you in a matter of seconds if he kept this rhythm.

“Chris! Please, please, please.” You begged, desperate as your sweet release was so close you could almost touch it. And Chris being the perfect lover let you have it, bringing you over the edge.

Breathless and light-headed, you kept your eyes shut, giving yourself a second to recover. And yet, you felt Chris’s lips on your thigh and on your stomach and then on your lips, letting you taste yourself. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crushing his body against yours, feeling how hard he was. You needed him inside right now.

“I need you.” You breathed against his lips.

“Badly?” He teased, knowing damn well how badly you wanted him.

It amazed how much self-control Chris had. No matter how much he took care of you, it was all about you and your pleasure, not minding his own needs. No, he wanted you to know just how much he cared, just how much he loved and was willing to give if it meant you would stay. If it meant you loved him back. You could ask him to set the world on fire and he would do it. No question asked.

“So fucking badly.” You admitted

Chris kissed the tip of your nose, glowing with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

Chris pulled back only to guide his cock to you, coating himself in your wetness, brushing teasing your clit – you arched your back, the contact sending shivers through your whole body.

“Don’t tease.” You begged, your head filled with nothing else but him and the need to feel him inside you.

Just like everything Chris did, he took his time, slowly pushing inside you, filling you to the brim. He stilled, letting you to adjust to the fullness, to him. He hovered over you and peppered your face with sweet kisses, distracting himself from the urge to just completely let go and ruin you.

“M-move, please.” You whispered; voice shaky as you were feeling particularly overwhelmed.

And he didn’t need to be asked twice.

Chris pulled back just as slowly as he started, only to push back with much more, controlled, strength, making you arch toward him to take more of him.

No words could describe how good and full and loved you felt. You curled your arms around him and found his mouth, letting him swallow your pretty moans and whimpers. You moved together, letting all your pent-desires out.

With every whimper, it pushed Chris into rocking harder, deeper into you, hitting all the sweet spots that made you curl your toes and whisper his name like a mantra. He could tell by how hard you were clenching around him that you were close, so was he.

Until, in a brief moment of lucidity, you cupped his face, your grip gentle but firm – he completely stilled. Chris furrowed his brows in worry, scared that he had hurt you. But nothing could have prepared him for the words that left your mouth. Words that shattered what was left of his sanity.

“I love you.”

His own response was on the tip of his tongue, but lost in his own feelings, no words left his mouth. He buried his head deep into your neck, cursing silently as he resumed his thrusts. Slow but deeper and so delicious.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He cursed into your skin.

One particularly strong push was all it took to make you convulse around him; mouth opened in a silent cry. Chris didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm, admiring what was his, admiring the beauty under him. It was the memory of your words that made him come.

He rested his head against your chest, sweating, panting, shaking at the power of his own release. You played with his curls, watching him fondly, your heart pounding hard against your ribs.

“By the way,” He finally said and peaked at you, a sheepish smile forming on his beautiful face. “I love you too.”

▾▾▾

It became common knowledge that you barging into a meeting was perfectly normal and a habit of yours. So when you barged into another meeting, uninvited, nobody even blinked. You, on the other hand, paused. It wasn’t your intention to interrupt, in fact, you were simply looking for Chris, knowing very well that if he wasn’t nowhere to be found, then he was definitely in his office. However, he wasn’t alone. You expected to see all of his friends, since it was a meeting, but no, only Minho, Jisung and Felix were attending.

“I want to say I’m sorry but then I’d be lying, so.” You smiled sheepishly at them. “Hi?”

Jisung shook his head but fondness was written all over it. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Well,” Maybe you could have done something about it, but you didn’t really want to. You took seat on the empty chair beside Felix, softly nudging him as a greeting. “Should have invited me in the first place.”

“Sorry if we forgot about you, your highness,” Minho being the sarcastic self, couldn’t stop himself.

“You’re excused.” You cut him and stuck your tongue. Yes, very adult of you.

Minho’s gaze slid to Chris, “Can I kill her now?”

You blew him a kiss, unfazed. Wouldn’t be Minho if he didn’t threaten you at least once a week.

“Still a no.” Then he looked at you, “You’re right on time.”

You tilted your head, surprised. “I am?”

“She is?” Jisung apparently wasn’t aware either.

Then it came back to you, the conversation you had with Chris last night about how you needed his help to be courageous.

Your mood turned sour.

It had been a week since they had told you the truth. A week spent mainly with Chris, letting him take care of you. Telling him stories about your life, about your escape and taste of freedom. You told him more about your mom and your regrets. A week you also spent with Soojin, discovering new sides of her thanks to her interaction with the others. Turned out, she was just as stubborn as her cousin and was probably even more reckless than you. But she was still Soojin, the same young woman that you had befriended.

But it was also a week you had spent avoiding the moment you would need to be faced with another truth. With shaky hands, you grabbed the usb-stick you had been carrying with you for the past few days, hoping to find the courage to give it to them.

You took a deep breath and put the usb on the table – all eyes on it.

Felix was the first to react, having a hunch of what it was. But definitely not the content. “So you did find something in his office back then.”

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked. You slapped yourself mentally for still being so emotional.

“What’s on it?” Jisung asked, reaching for it, ready to connect it to his computer.

“Before you check it, I need to tell you something.” You hesitated. There was no way they would accept your request that would go against their hatred, but you still hoped. “I don’t want him dead.”

They exchanged glances, taken aback.

“I thought about it. And honestly, death is too easy. I want him to suffer and regret and lose everything. I want him locked up for the rest of his miserable life.” You admitted. Feeling more confident with the wave of anger, you looked at them.

“Y/N, we’re not really in good terms with the feds, you know.” Jisung explained.

“What’s on the usb, Y/N?” Felix asked instead. His friends glanced at him, stunned that he would consider your request even for a second.

“Turns out my father isn’t only a piece of shit, control freak and greedy human. He’s also a psycho. This,” You pointed at the usb, “Is the proof you need to lock him up. He filmed himself torturing and killing my mom.”

Chris felt his heart breaking once more. He wanted to pull you in his arms and comfort you, but he figured it was not the place and not the right moment – you saw his silent struggle and gave him a weak but reassuring smile.

“Let him rot.”

▾▾▾

If most of them were indeed not in good terms with the feds, it wasn’t Hyunjin’s case. Were you surprised? Not even for a second. This man could charm anybody, there was no possible resistance to his charms and to his skills. He knew how to manipulate people without them even realizing he was using them like puppets. Impressive, wasn’t he?

Hyunjin, the moment he found out about your request, accepted right away which did take you off guard. While the others needed some more convincing, as in to watch the video to understand how much you needed this revenge, he didn’t ask. You appreciated it and promised to never forget his willingness to help you. Or his words. “You’re family. Of course, I’m in.”

Which brought you to two months later, resting on the couch of the living room at Chris’s house by the beach. You adored their main residence, but this house had such a soothing and magical effect on you, you begged Chris to spend some time here. His resistance held for approximatively five minutes, and you were being generous. All it took was a gentle tug on his earlobe with your teeth and he was a goner.

During those two months, they were all incredibly active. Instead of going straight to the feds, like you would have thought, they asked you for some more time and you saw no reason to refuse. Chris and Minho had their own idea of revenge and if they couldn’t kill your father, then at least, they wanted him completely ruined. They wanted him to watch his tiny kingdom fall and burn. You could relate to this wish.

With Felix’s help, Jisung easily managed to find the spy among them, luring him out in a matter of days. With the spy out of picture, it became much easier to trick your father. Felix used the spy’s phone, sending false information about their plans. Overconfident, your father believed every word – a mistake that cost him. He lost all his businesses, one by one, along with his allies. Even Kang, who, as soon as he realized what was going on, cut him off.

To say that watching your father’s demise was satisfying would be the understatement of the century. There was finally some justice, if not for you, it was justice for your mom. You wished she could have seen it. You wished she could have celebrated it with you. You wished she could have seen you and your new family. But since she couldn’t, you did it for her. TV on, you watched the news with a glass of red wine, your pajamas on, your hair tied messily, you were fully relaxed. The journalist was narrating the story; about a tip the feds had received which helped them to arrest a criminal that had been on their list for years.

“You’re welcome.”

▾▾▾

Chris, despite agreeing to spend some more time at his house by the beach, had to go back and forth between this house and his company, to deal with some urgent matters. You understood and didn’t mind that much. Moreover, you were never really alone. If Chris was away, someone else would keep you company. Sometimes it would be Felix and you would spend the day either walking down the beach and talk, or cooking. Sometimes it would be Jisung and you would binge-watch some TV shows. Sometimes it would be Minho and Soojin – the messiest company ever but you enjoyed it nevertheless.

You woke up to the first ring of your alarm, smashing the stop button. Chris groaned beside you and pressed his head against your back without waking up. You smiled to yourself. He came back in the middle of the night, trying not to wake you up – you cracked one eye open, gave him a sweet kiss and went back to sleep in his arms. The best feeling ever.

This morning, however, you had plans. Plans that didn’t involve Chris. You slipped from his arms as quietly as you could, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t. He frowned in his sleep, probably realizing in his sleep that something was missing. You couldn’t resist the urge to kiss the tip of his nose in fondness before leaving the room.

It was still dark outside but it wouldn’t last for long according to your phone; the sun was about to rise. You quickly gathered everything you needed; a warm hoodie that you of course stole from Chris, a warm scarf because the early mornings were particularly fresh and windy. And last but not least; a piece of paper that took you days to write on.

You took the stairs that led straight to the beach. You didn’t go far; it wasn’t your intention anyway. You approached the sea as close as you could without getting your clothes wet. You sat on the sand and for a short moment simply looked at the horizon. The first ray of sun were showing, reflecting on the water, reminding you of your very first time here with Chris. It was still as perfect as in your memory and would not be the last.

But as the sun was slowing showing up, there was still something you wanted to do. You took the piece of paper from your pocket, your hands shaky, your heart aching in your chest. You knew it was time to say goodbye, but it was harder than you hoped.

It was now or never. You unfolded the piece of paper, took a deep breath and started reading out loud, letting the wind carrying your words to some unknown place.

“Dear mom,

When I was a little girl, I remember you telling me to be brave. Recently, I found out that it’s not an easy task. But because of your words, I kept pushing and today here I am. There are so many things I wish to say, so much I want to share, and the only way I could think of was to write, hoping that those words could reach you one way or another.

I’m not sure where to start, but I guess I should start from where we left last year and the last time, I saw your face. My escape did not go well, I’m sure you knew it then or maybe you hoped that your plan (which I found out about only recently) would work. Dad let me believe for four months that I had escaped for good. Four months of freedom. Fake freedom. It felt nice, I was happy and made few friends. But as I said, it was a fake freedom and the moment dad needed me back he sent Ren. Turns out Ren’s real name is Felix, but I guess you know it already. For someone who was a spy and played pretend, he sure did a good job. I shouldn’t be surprised that he took his job so seriously, but going to the extent of killing an innocent…That’s impressive I guess, the devotion to his job. Sadly, it made me hate him so much. When he brought me back to dad, things got ugly. I..I don’t think I need to tell you how it went, I’m sure you went through it many times yourself, so I’ll skip this part and go straight to the main point and where my life changed. For the good.

Few months ago, I found out what dad had in store for me, making me realize that I needed to escape and never let him find me again. Without knowing your story, I followed your path that led me straight to Chris. It’s a tad ironical, don’t you think? You made a deal with him and so did I. No doubt, I’m your daughter. But what I didn’t know back then was that this deal would turn my life upside down. Not only because I would finally be free of dad, but because I found something I didn’t know I needed. A family. People, I know I can rely on. People that would watch my back. Chris gave it to me. I bet, when he agreed to my deal, he didn’t expect it to turn out like this too.

But, do we regret it? No. Not at all. I’d say it was meant to be.

I need you to know that your efforts were not in vain. Dad is rotting in jail. His business - well let’s just say Chris dealt with it. But even more importantly, I want you to know that I am free. I am happy. I am loved. I have a family that I would die for. And I love just as fiercely as you have loved me.

My life begins right now.

Thank you for it, mom. Thank you for everything. You can rest now. And be happy.

I love you.

-from your selfish daughter.”

By the time you finished reading the letter, tears were rolling down your cheeks. Goodbyes were never your forte, still wasn’t. But you needed it. You needed to let her know that you were now happy and free and in love. You needed her to know that she didn’t need to worry for you anymore.

You pulled a lighter from your pocket, hesitated for a moment as you brought it to the corner of your letter.

“Goodbye mom.” You whispered. You watched as the paper caught fire, easily, burning slowly in your hand. Flames devouring your words, devouring your emotions.

A gentle breeze caressed your skin and blew the ashes of your letter towards the sea. You watched it in silence, the sun no longer hiding on the horizon. It was the beginning of another good day.

You felt Chris’s presence before you could hear or see him. Despite your attempt at not waking him up, he still did. The moment he realized where you were heading, he followed your steps but leaving space between you two. He watched you from afar, guessing what you were doing. The moment you started reading the letter, he left – it wasn’t right for him to eavesdrop and he guessed a nice coffee to sooth your heart would be a good idea.

Chris pushed the cup of coffee right under your nose, letting the strong scent hit your nose.

“Mmh.” You hummed in satisfaction. “Exactly what I needed.”

“I know.” He smiled. Just like the first day at the beach, he sat behind you, spread his legs and pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you and letting his warmth envelop you. He placed a soft kiss to your hair. “Feeling better?”

“Much, much better.”

Freedom had the best taste.

Coffee, sunrise and love.

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