#Sir were you listening to the instructions

[coconut530]

CLOSETS. WOMEN. WOMEN IN CLOSETS.

Also Suitor Armor Fans hOW WE FEELING?!?!??!?

[mrsfancyferrari]

Wild Imagination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Part 2

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[talaok]

A gentleman

This is my gift to @lucyeyelesbarrow for the Pedrostories Secret Santa event💖

Pairing: bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is a good guy, but he's not so good at sex, but thankfully, his dad makes up for it

Warnings: smut| Cheating, kinda exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), a bit of fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no use of y/n just overuse of pet names, no use of Joel either, just Mr. Miller and sir (so naturally we've got a bit of a sir kink).

a/n: babe you said slut by Taylor and i ran with it. also, this didn't turn out as good as I wanted, but nevertheless, I hope you'll like it. And huge thanks to @decembermidnight cause this idea is basically (completely) hers so give her some love or smth.

Jason was a good guy,

he was such a good guy, always so kind, always gentle and respectful... everything any girl could ever dream of, right?

wrong

He should have been, he really should have been the perfect man, but he wasn't.

He wasn't a man, he was just a boy

A really nice, sweet, cute boy that had just one, little, big problem... he fucked like one.

He fucked like he was scared of breaking you, actually, no he didn't fuck at all... he made love, which would have been fine... if it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time you had sex he lasted no more than a few minutes (on his good days) and it was always just the same, always missionary, always slow and breathy and just not... right.

And it's not like you hadn't tried, god knows how many times you had, you tried changing positions, switching up his thrusting method, or even asking him to go down on you, but the outcome was always the same... you were left unsatisfied, every. single time.

You had even gone as far as starting to wonder if perhaps the problem was you, but then again every time you were alone everything worked just fine.

And as perfect as he was, there's only as much a girl can take.

You needed sex, the real kind, you needed to get fucked good, by a man who didn't need instructions, by someone who wasn't afraid to take what he wanted, by a man, you needed a real man.

And perhaps you'd always had one in mind.

You were in the kitchen, the fridge open, the cool air hardening your nipples, just a tiny white tank top on you, no bra, only a pair of panties.

You came down here to get a drink, but your focus had shifted to your fingers beneath your panties, drawing fast circles on your clit.

And yes it was pathetic, masturbating in a kitchen that wasn't even yours, but your body was desperate for that orgasm your boyfriend had deprived you of not even 10 minutes ago.

You were caging your bottom lip between your teeth, trying not to make a sound, but as all your emphasis went there, you must have stopped listening for anyone coming and missed the footsteps stomping down the stairs.

"I thought you'd be aslee-" 

his eyes widened as he finally took you in

"shit I'm sorry darlin'-" he apologized, his eyes diverting a moment too late, only after they had taken you in completely, only after they had taken a good glimpse of your tits, and of the hand in your underwear.

To say you were red was an understatement.

He was there, the man you were just thinking of (although you had tried to refrain) was there, right in front of you, in all his broadness and glory, looking every bit of hot as ever,

him, your boyfriend's dad, 

Mr. Miller had just caught you masturbating while standing in his kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't-I was just-I needed water and I-"

You finally rushed your trembling fingers out of your panties, your chest heaving and your voice breaking.

"No need to apologize sweetheart" he shook his head, his gaze finding yours "'s alright"

And although you were half naked, his eyes remained on yours.

Because that's how he was, that's how Mr. Miller was,

He was a gentleman,

In a world of boys, he was a gentleman.

Just like that time he caught you just out of the shower, just as every time he wouldn't let you open your own door, not on his watch, just as every dinner, every expense, every single thing, was his treat, and he didn't need a thank you, he did it because that's simply how he did things, how he'd been taught to treat women.

You watched each other for a moment, you panicking, him as calm as ever, and only after a good minute, did you finally feel brave enough to say something,

"I-I think I'll go-"

He frowned, "didn't you come here to get a drink?"

You swallowed, realizing your hands were empty "I-I did, you're right"

You opened the fridge again, and to the demise of your heart, he stepped closer, watching you like a hawk from above, and stealing all the air out of your lungs.

"What were you doing sweetheart?"

You swore you could have started crying right there and then.

Did he really just ask that?

Why the fuck would he ever ask that?

"I-I wasn't- I wasn't doing anything, Mr. Miller"

He tried to hide the smirk crawling on his lips, but a shadow of it still appeared

"now we both know that ain't true, darlin'" he smiled, as you took a bottle of water and closed the fridge to try and keep your brain occupied by something else other than this fucking man.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him.

Your bottom lip was between your front teeth, and with his thumb, he freed it, his hand lingering on your chin.

"there's no need to be shy" he murmured, his voice as sweet as honey "I just wanna help"

And as always, as always his touch melted you completely, like ice in the August sun.

"M-Mr. Miller-"

"yes, doll?"

only hearing him call you that made your breathing hitch.

"I..."

"just tell me," his voice was as low and hot as it could be "I won't judge"

And then, for some reason, you did, You told him the truth.

maybe he had put a spell on you, or maybe, just maybe, you would have done anything this man asked for.

"I was- I was touching myself"

But of course he knew, you could see it all over his face as he nodded, his eyes now a shade darker.

"and why's that?" he asked, stepping an inch closer,

you took a step back to get out of his penetrating aura, just to realize he had confined you between the table and his body with nowhere else to go.

"my son's just upstairs" he continued, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of your face "Couldn't he have helped with that?" 

You gulped as his fingers gently moved some hair out of your face, making you shiver altogether

"I know if I were him, I would want nothing more than to do just that" he murmured "I would want to pleasure you in any way I could" and then, as if he'd gotten back to himself, to the respectful gentleman you'd always known, he dropped his hand, "so why were you touching yourself, sweetheart?"

What were you supposed to say?

That his son couldn't do it?

That in 3 months of dating, he'd made you come a total of 0 times?

Now that's not really a conversation you wanted to have with his father, was it?

"I was just- I- I don't know Mr. Miller" you lied

But he saw right through you, his head shaking in disapproval

"but you do know, doll" he urged "There's gotta be a reason"

And then it clicked.

He knew. Somehow he fucking knew.

"I-I-" you stuttered "It's just that Jason... he- he can't-"

but you couldn't end that sentence, how could you ever?

So of course, he did it for you.

"He can't make you come"

And the darkness was back again, the gentleman long gone.

"ain't that right?"

You could only offer a shy nod

"a pretty thing like you..." he murmured, his breath tickling your skin as he leaned closer, "and he's not taking care of you..." he tsked "Now that's a shame"

his hands were on your waist, holding you in place.

"I thought I'd taught him how to treat a woman... guess I was wrong" he shook his head "I mean look at you," he murmured "he should be making you come until you can't take it anymore"

"Mr. Miller-" you whimpered

"yes sugar"

"please" you begged, not exactly knowing for what

"Please what?" he asked, his right hand stroking your sides "you want somethin' from me?"

"I-I" you stumbled over your own words, not knowing how to get them out "Could you- could you please do it?"

He smirked properly at that, his left hand lowering down your belly

"do what?"

"you know" you breathed "You know what"

He inhaled your scent, his eyes still focused on yours "Say it" he ordered "Say it and I'll do it"

And what could you have done, if not exactly what he'd just said

"Please Mr. Miller" you pleaded "please make me come"

His fingers were beneath your panties before you could get another word out.

"Ah-" you gasped

"shhh" he shushed you, "Don't worry darlin'" he murmured "I'm here, I'll take care of you" he said, his big hand cupping your whole pussy

"look at that" he grinned, his mouth ghosting yours "she's already wet f'me”

A gasp fled your throat again as his finger seeped between your folds, gathering your slick and teasing your hole just to travel up to your clit

“Mmm” he hummed “so wet doll” he shook his head, smiling devilishly “are you always like this for me?” he asked, “For your boyfriend’s father?“

And although the fact that you could feel his hard cock against your thighs made that taunt more than a little hypocritical, you still couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed.

“Answer me” he urged, his lips now grazing yours

“Yes” you confessed, your voice nothing more than a whisper “I-I am Mr. Miller”

He groaned at that

He knew it was wrong, that everything about this was wrong, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this, if he said hearing you call him Mr. Miller with that sweet voice of yours every day didn't make his cock half hard, if he said that from the moment he met you, he hadn't been jealous of his own son.

"here's how this is gonna work sweetheart" he breathed, his fingers gripping the edge of your panties "I'm gonna taste you now... because fuck me, but I need to-" he explained, slowly lowering your underwear "And you..." he smiled, your panties suddenly on the ground "you're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet" 

His lips lowered from right next to your ear, onto your pulse point

"Can you do that f'me?"

A little squeak left your mouth, and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest

"Can you be a good girl f'me, doll?"

You didn't trust yourself with words, so all you did was nod

"good" he hummed, his lips on your clavicle "Now get on the table"

And so you did, you hopped on the table, and he kneeled before you, his hands on your thighs.

"Spread your legs sugar" he said, having you obliging immediately

A soft appreciative sound erupted from his throat.

"prettiest pussy I've ever seen" he purred, leaning closer to it "on the prettiest girl I've ever seen"

Your belly was moving up and down in sync with your erratic breathing, but he didn't seem to care, his only focus was between your legs.

he looked as if he did this every day, as if fucking his son's girlfriend was an everyday thing.

He started off slow, his lips meeting the inside of your thighs, then your mound, then your lips, and then, just when you felt a moment away from bursting, his tongue came to play, as he licked between your folds without care, groaning in pleasure at the taste of you.

"Delicious" he hummed "You're fucking delicious doll" he looked at you, continuing to do so even when his hands gripped your thighs, and his talented muscle teased your hole, making you gasp and forcing your right hand to his hair.

"Does he do this?" he couldn't stop himself from asking "Does he eat this pretty pussy sweetheart?"

"n-no" you managed to whisper as he continued his work, now savoring you entirely while deliberately avoiding your clit.

"Now that's just wrong," he said, his eyes unfocusing from yours and lowering to your heat for a moment "look at that" he murmured, watching mesmerized as your juices drenched his mouth "I could eat this pussy for every meal"

And that was it, he was done with teasing all of a sudden, his lips were on your clit, sucking it deliciously as fingers you didn't even notice having gone from your leg thrust into you with ease.

"O-Oh s-shit" you moaned, although trying not to do so.

"quiet sweetheart" he shushed you, going back to his work in a moment

His fingers were now curling upwards, finding that spot that made you see stars like he knew your body better than yourself, or certainly, better than his son.

His tongue was alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, and he expected you to not make a sound? now that was just impossible.

"oh my god" you gripped his hair, his fingers speeding up "o-oh my god-Mr. Miller- i-it feels so good"

"I know it does" he answered "I can feel it, sweetheart"

And then he was back at work, and as you watched enchanted how perfect he looked between your thighs, his hair a mess, his eyes so dark they didn't even seem brown anymore... you felt it, you felt the orgasm approach faster than it ever had, embarrassingly fast one could say, but then again, it certainly wasn't your fault, Mr. Miller knew what he was doing.

"I-I think-" you cried

"I know" he didn't need you to finish "Let go f'me, doll"

And so you did, you bit your lip and threw your head back as an orgasm powerful enough to kill you took over your body, leaving you a whimpering, wobbly mess.

"fucking delicious" he groaned, selfishly licking your core once again before he was back up to you, watching as you breathed heavily into the air.

"felt good?"

"yeah," you smiled mindlessly "felt amazing Mr. Miller"

"good enough to want another one?"

You didn't need to think twice

"yes" you breathed, one of your arms going between his neck as you begged him, while the other found the bulge in his boxers "please" you swallowed "Please fuck me"

"you want my cock?" he asked, already freeing it from his briefs "is that it?"

"yes," you whimpered, 

"how much?"

"a lot" you promised "I want it so much Mr. Miller, please"

"yeah?" he taunted, positioning it at your entrance

"yeah-" you managed before he had pushed into you, making such a feeling erupt in you that you forgot all about your boyfriend upstairs and cried loudly because fuck it, but he was so fucking big.

His hand covered your mouth before you had even realized what had happened.

"I thought you said you were gonna be good" 

Your eyes widened as your pussy still tried to accommodate the importance of him

A muffled "I'm sorry" made it to his ears

"I wouldn't wanna have to stop"

"no" you begged immediately "no please don't stop" You shook your head, so desperate you would have felt pathetic if it wasn't that you weren't thinking about anything anymore besides your pleasure, besides him, besides this, whatever it was.

"if I take this off you you'll be quiet?" he asked, nodding to his hand

"yes," you nodded "yes, sir, please"

Sir?

Fuck

If his cock could have gotten harder it would have.

"alright then" he conceded, taking his hand away "Can I move sweetheart?"

"mh-mh" you hummed, nodding eagerly

a soft grin spread over his face at that, but before you could fully take in the beauty of it, of him, of his patchy salt and pepper beard and pink lips, he had done as you asked, and started moving

"fuck" you whimpered "y-you're so big"

The implication behind your words hit you only after having pronounced them, but he was kind enough not to comment on it.

"and yet you're taking me all like a good girl" he groaned "taking all of my cock inside this tight little pussy of yours"

His right hand got rid of your tank top, pulling it down until your boobs spilled from it so he could grab and grope at them freely while his thrusts got faster, and somehow, somehow even fucking deeper, and you were just- god you were in another universe, and right when you shut your eyes, your forehead falling to his in bliss, another moan escaped you, and his hand found your lips again

"What did I tell you sweetheart?" he grunted, his pace not slowing down "I need you to stay quiet" he explained again "I need you to be good and not make a sound so I can fuck you like you nee-"

"Babe?"

Your heart skipped a beat.

It was his voice, your boyfriend's voice, coming from upstairs

"babe, is everything alright?"

Your eyes widened and his movements stopped as you stared into each other's eyes for a moment

What do I do? What do I do? what the fuck do I do?

"answer him," Joel said, freeing your mouth without any further explanation.

"I-" you mumbled

"do it sweetheart, or he's gonna come down here, and I don't think either of us want that"

And so of course, you did

"I-I'm fine!" you yelled

"are you sure?"

And just when you were about to answer, his fingers materialized on your clit, circling it.

You gasped, widening your eyes at him 

"answer" he commanded, not stopping, the opposite actually, starting his thrusts again "Answer him doll"

"b-but"

"just do it" he murmured "Tell him you're sure"

You gulped, breathing heavily, 

"I'm sure!" 

"Ok"

And just like that, as if it were a miracle, Jason stopped his questioning, and you hid your face into the crook of Joel's neck, biting his skin as his pace fastened again, making that fucking feeling his son couldn't create take over your whole belly again.

"Mr Miller- oh my god" you cried, actual tears threatening to spill your eyes at the feeling

"shh" he cooed "I know sweetheart I know" he felt your walls tighten around him as the fingers in your hair gripped his locks harder "there we go," he grunted, his cock so deep inside of you you could feel it in your belly "that's all you needed wasn't it?" he asked " for someone to abuse this little pussy" he groaned, "for me, for me to fuck you like you deserve"

his lips were just before yours, not even an inch distancing you from a kiss, and yet, you weren't gonna cross that line, not today.

"yes" you moaned lowly "yes sir, yes"

"fuck" he groaned "you feel so good sweetheart, squeezing me so good... such a good girl"

"oh" you moaned, back into his neck "s-shit"

"'s ok" he purred, his fingers and hips working relentlessly to destroy you completely "'s ok sweetheart just-"

"Babe, can you bring me some water too?"

And if before Joel had stopped, it wasn't even remotely in his plans now. There you were, on the verge of an orgasm, and he was supposed to stop? no fucking way

He did the opposite, he started going harder, the table shifting on the floor.

You gasped and moaned before you finally freed your mouth from your neck, clinging to him as you answered

"Yes!" you screamed, hoping the pure pleasure behind your words wouldn't be hearable "Yes! I-I'm c-coming!"

"Yeah" he groaned into your ear "Yeah you are sweetheart" he purred, completely drowning out whatever response Jason gave you "Now give it to me, come all over my cock like a good girl"

And just like that, white pure bliss washed over you, and for a moment you were somewhere else, heaven, or hell more probably, but another universe for sure.

And you only came back when Joel's grunts sounded in your ears, when his thrusts got more sloppy, when you answered the words "Where do you want it?" with a simple "inside", and then finally, you fully came back to earth when he did, when he filled you up to the brim, remaining still deep inside you so none of it went to waste.

"fuck" he groaned after a while, finally pulling out of you to meet your eyes.

"Mr. Miller-"

You were waiting for the guilt to take over you, but somehow, for whatever reason, it still hadn't, and he felt exactly the same

"Babe?"

"shit" you gasped, getting off the table to put your panties back on.

"you need to go doll" Joel murmured, helping you put your tank top back into place

"Mr. Miller..." you murmured, your voice as shaky as your legs "I've got your come running down my thighs"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips

"should have thought of that before you said you wanted it inside" he taunted, his hands on your waist "or before you decided to touch yourself in my kitchen, sweetheart"

[kokonoiis]

─── I SAID LOOK AT ME, GIRL INITIATION bonten x fem! reader ( 18+ MDNI ) 21.3k words you condemned three men to death tonight, or something worse than death, and there was nothing you could do about it but keep moving forward, digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole until you could no longer see the sun. but you kept reaching up anyway, ever hopeful that you’d feel the warmth on your skin one day.

that day wasn't going to be today. how lucky for you, you've been promoted.

YOU CAN FOLLOW SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS, RIGHT ? ─── active characters ﾉ hajime kokonoi, haruchiyo sanzu, ran haitani, rindou haitani, takeomi akashi mentions of ﾉ mikey sano, kakucho, kanji mochizuki

WHOEVER BETRAYS BONTEN WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME SCRAPS, TOO tags ﾉ dubious consent , degradation , praise , gangbang , power imbalance , pain play , exhibitionism , voyeurism , groping , mention of drug usage ( sanzu ), mentions of alcohol ( takeomi & rindou ), sadism , masochism , dacryphilia , size difference , violent sex , oral ( m. receiving ) spit kink , asphyxiation , fear play , face fucking , mind break , coercion almost , free use , violent language , unprotected sex , handjobs , misogyny ( takeomi ) , slutshaming ( takeomi, again ), bukkake , insults , mean characters , throat bulge , breath play , borderline unconsciousness , hair pulling , suspension , overstimulation , mentions of a breeding kink , multiple orgasms , mentions of a collar , dry humping just a little , humiliation , control , spitroasting , nipple play , canon typical violence , mentions of death several times , gang antics with bonten , and more..!

You were good at listening to orders. one of the best, in fact. It was more than just rare for you to mess up a direct order given to you by one of the executives above you, and that made you the perfect pawn. You could be molded into anything they needed at the time, the perfect canvas for crimson red handprints to cover your body. 

Innocent wasn't exactly the word, it was more like naive, and belligerently hopeful, even when you faced the worst. It was like you couldn't really see the world around you, not completely anyways.

" Sir, " you took in a deep, shaky breath, holding the manila folder in your hand as you walked into Hajime Kokonoi’s office, knowing you'd delivered exactly what you had been told. Even if it came at the cost of other people's lives. " I have the names. "

" Good, good, " Kokonoi didn't even bother to look up from his desk, his throwaway laptop open with the screen away from you, making it impossible for you to see what he was working on, but you thought that it was better the less you knew about what he did for work considering what he had you doing for work. " How many ? "

" Three, " you announced, sitting the manila folder down. For such a simple interaction right now, this had taken more restless nights and more dangerous situations than you really wanted to let yourself think about. It almost felt like it was downplaying and trivializing your efforts. To be fair, it was. 

Sniffing out traitors wasn't an easy job – whether it was checking money wires, phone calls, tailing people, reaching out through connections and plenty of ' friends of a friend ‘ – getting these three names had taken about three weeks of your life that you weren't going to get back. 

You felt blessed by some god that you knew wasn't looking that you didn't have to pull out the gun you kept on you nearly at all times, although you had needed to talk your way out of a situation that could've ended in bloodshed more than once.

" The names ? "

" ..Shinatsuro Kamo, Mikane Shuichi, Chihara Fumihiko. Two of them are in your shell IT company, different branches though. One of them worked as a bartender in the Haitani brothers’ strip club, " you explained in a soft voice, crossing your arms, trying to show that you were just as serious about this as he was. You'd figured out a long time ago that showing pain was nothing more than a big red target on your back, and you had enough eyes watching you for now. " All three of them were connected to the same mole. From what I know, they don't know about each other, at least not their identities, although they may be aware that there are other rats. "

" Did they even try to cover their tracks ? tch. " Gently closing his laptop, Kokonoi grabbed the manila folder, looking through the files you'd put in there. 

Birth certificates, addresses, current pictures of their identity cards, check stubs. You had it all there. None of that was easy to get a hold of, especially not when each of them had more than one different name they went by. But you tailed their trails until you got to their birth names, and had it all down. You even had pictures of one of them from middle school with the worst haircut you’ve ever seen on a kid. 

" You did good. its thorough work for only three weeks with only a vague notion of where to go. "

" Yeah. You'd think next time I might get a bit of hint, " you joked softly, and you swore you heard Kokonoi chuckle a little bit, his hand reaching over and tucking his straight white hair behind his ear as he read through the files, sorting things out on his desk. " Going through the entire list of Bonten's higher ups wasn't easy. "

" The entire list ? "

" Mostly. I knew better than to look into the executives, but I had to check anyone below your status, " you backtracked to answer his question quickly, knowing damn well that if you ever looked into the executives above you, you were as good as dead. The cops would never find your corpse and no one would remember your name. 

Being wiped off of the face of the planet wasn't exactly in the plans of a good night for you, not after all of that work. It had been the worst mission you'd been sent on yet, but you completed it hopefully with flying colors.

" That's good, " Kokonoi sat out the three I.D card copies, examining each one of them. He didn’t outright deny your thought process, but you knew that he didn’t need to. There were some open secrets in Bonten that everyone knew without needing to talk about them. " So these are the men ? And you're sure of that ? "

" If you don't trust me, trust the trails they left behind. "

" We'll have to double check your work, " he pointed out, although with each file that he pulled out, he seemed more and more convinced that you were right in your deductions, which is what you were hoping too. You knew that there was a chance something didn’t add up, that you could be wrong, even with all of the hard work that you put in to get this information. It was small, but this was life and death. " Can't just send men to die without a checks and balances system, right ? "

" Who's going to be checking my work ? " you tried your best not to think about the fates of the men that you were damning, but failing miserably. You hoped that it show on your face.

" Sanzu. "

" So they're dead. " There was no way that Sanzu was going to go the silent path of making sure that all of the trails led up properly. No, he was going to get the answers out of them with chains and saws and pliers. Whether they were guilty or not, they were as good as dead. Death might be a mercy for them if they’re stuck with Sanzu.

Hopefully, you thought, they would give up quickly and spill everything out before Sanzu really got to having fun. Once that happened, who knows how long he would play with them until Mikey gave his orders to finally end their lives. Could be hours, could be days. You hoped that they weren’t as dumb as they seemed. If they can’t cover themselves up properly, at least they could give up easily.

" Well, " Kokonoi put all of the files away back into the manila folder, closing it and sitting it to the side of his otherwise pristine desk. His voice almost sounded light, like he was laughing about it, although his face was still mostly neutral. Kokonoi was hard to read – it wasn't like he was crazy like Sanzu, or quiet like Mikey and Kakucho. No, he was witty and sarcastic, but he was so in the way that it wasn't really actually funny, just dark. Just actually depressing. He told the truth and covered it up with a smile. " You never know, maybe he's feeling merciful. Either way, you'll be there when Mikey decides what to do with them. "

" Ah, thank you, Sir. what an honor, " you couldn't stop yourself from sounding a little bitter about it, knowing that you would witness the culmination of your hard work and honestly, you didn't really want to. Listening to three men that you brought down to Sanzu's favorite warehouse cry and scream out in pain wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, but a direct order was a direct order, and you weren't about to mess up just because you didn't want to. There was plenty of things that you've done that you can't exactly say that you're proud of, and you just thought you were going to add this one to the list.

" We'll see to it that you're there. It'll be your first time in the warehouse, right ? " Kokonoi asked, although he already knew the answer, " I believe it's time to talk to Mikey about making it official. "

" It ? "

" Your work here, I mean. "

" I've done a lot of unpaid labor if this is just the internship, " you mumbled underneath your breath, earning a curious quirk of Kokonoi's eyebrow, but he didn't say anything about your attitude. He was one of the few executives you could talk to like a normal person and he wouldn't paint the walls with your brains.

" You're sort of more like a secretary right now, " Kokonoi clarified, steepling his fingers together and sitting his chin on them, a strand of his hair that he had just pushed back already falling into his eyes as he looked up at you, his sharp eyes taking in your appearance as if he were dissecting you piece by piece, and maybe he's thought about it before. You could never be sure with the Bonten executives just how deep their contempt for humanity ran. " Granted, the papers you bring me aren't exactly just the weekly wealth management reports, but more.. unique to your position, I should say. "

" Despite the others' strengths, there's only one within the executives that's particularly good at sniffing out rats, " Kokonoi continued after your silence, " So it only makes sense that you worked directly underneath me during your time here, given what you do. But to continue your job in a more effective manner, you should be.. promoted, in a sense. Instead of me being the middleman, giving you orders from Mikey, you should get them directly from him instead. Cut out the middleman and there's less room for error. There's no way any information can get lost in translation and cause errors to occur. "

What a professional and roundabout way to say that now, if you fucked up, it would be on your head, and he didn't want to risk having his name attached to your line of work. " I see. so you're wanting to ' promote ' me to executive directly underneath Mikey, instead of working just for you. "

" Precisely. I knew you were smart, " he smiled, eyes narrowing as he watched you shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a little awkward underneath his gaze. " I still need to suggest it to Mikey, but I'm sure there's going to be little pushback. He's seen the work you've done before this. Everything goes back to him, after all. "

Mikey has eyes and ears everywhere, that much you knew. You, very much so, were considered one of them. Not only did you look out for others within your ' position ' you also were watched by them. You were just particularly good at your job, it seems. What a lucky soul you were, living this life.

" Yes, Sir. "

" Wonderful. Then you're dismissed until a later notice, secretary, " he straightened up, the term slipping from his lips more like an insult than anything else, finally glancing back down at his laptop in front of him, opening it up to continue what he was doing before you came in. " You'll hear word from someone about what's going to happen and when. Be there, although I have no doubt that you won't. "

" Yes, Sir. " You repeated once again, and turned on your heels, your footsteps echoing as you headed towards the door, trying to hold your head high and keep your posture as straight as possible. If there was one thing you were good at other than executing orders given to you, it was keeping up appearances.

" Oh, and one more thing before you go. There's a lady acting up from one of the Haitani brother's clubs, could you check up on her for me ? I believe she's been starting some unfortunate whispers about your connections to me, and I'd like to have that squashed as quick as possible. "

Ah, she thought the two of you were fucking. It was understandable, everyone within a certain ranking knew who you answered to, and who you spent most of your time around, and that included the managers of the Haitani brother's clubs, who often had to answer to Kokonoi for their revenues. You were sure that one had seen you come in or out of Kokonoi's office and tried to connect the dots. 

In fact, you were almost sure you knew exactly who it was: the man who tried to hit on you and you shot him down relatively quickly. You'd been tired that day and didn't even want to entertain the thought of men, especially not one as sleazy as he was, so you may have sounded a little ruder than you anticipated. 

Perhaps he took your denial and then saw you come out of Kokonoi's office and tried to connect the dots to make his ego feel better. What was his name ? Atsuku Tsukima, you were fairly sure. You had most people who were in higher positions in Bonten memorized already, it just sort of came with the job after combing through their names for hours on end. You'd have to pay him a little visit, and check up on that girl of his. 

You also figured you might have to check up and ask why he was telling some random girls at his club about the business of people that he has no right to stick his nose in, too. 

" Yes, Sir. “ You answered him one last time, your hand on the door handle as you turned your head to throw him one more look, finger already holding down the lock so you could push it open. “ I’ll return in a few hours with an update for you. I don’t think she’ll be saying much more about it anymore after tonight. “ 

“ I don’t believe so, either. “ 

Looks like you could sit down your hopes of getting an early day tonight. Of course you had to run around for one more errand before you could really call your day complete, just to get up and do it all over again tomorrow. 

Once you walked through the door, you could feel it all coming back to you at once, like a rush of all of the emotions you’d suppressed to the best of your ability. The fear, the sickness in the pit of your stomach, the regret. 

You condemned three men to death tonight, or something worse than death, and there was nothing you could do about it but keep moving forward, digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole until you could no longer see the sun. But you kept reaching up anyway, ever hopeful that you’d feel the warmth on your skin one day. 

That day wasn’t going to be today. 

Just barely three days after you delivered your report to Kokonoi, you were told the date and the time that you were expected to be in the warehouse with the presence of the other executives, and the leader of the whole organization. You knew that this day was coming, but you honestly could say that you were kind of hoping that Sanzu struggled to find them for a little while longer, if only to put off your own discomfort. But of course, you hadn’t let anyone find out that you were snooping around to the traitors, so the three men had no idea what was happening and probably continued with business as usual. 

You’d known about the warehouse, and even knew the general location and its main use before you’d even been there for the first time. It was just an old storage facility for a car manufacturer that Kokonoi had a hand in. Technically, the warehouse was Kokonoi’s property, but Sanzu spent more than his fair share of time within the uninsulated metal walls. 

You’d only met Sanzu once, and that was a very short time when you were delivering something to Kokonoi and Sanzu just happened to want to chat with him at the same time. 

Even then, you understood early on not to fuck with that man. He was unhinged, with more screws loose than anyone else within Bonten that you knew. Looking at him in the wrong way could potentially mean that you were liable to get your neck snapped in half like a twig, if he was feeling generous that day. 

A few of the Bonten executives you’d never met before were there, as well as Mikey, the leader of it all. You knew of him, heard stories about the kind of person he was through the grapevine, although you could never tell if they were the truth or fiction, even saw his face a couple of times. You’d heard about the man who was once called the Invincible Mikey, who was now a shell of a man and apathetic towards anyone and everyone. 

But you’d never been face to face with him before, and you never really could say that you really wanted to, either. You were perfectly okay with being unnoticed by all of these people that you knew you’d soon be meeting. Or at least, you weren’t important enough to be a name that they saw more than once or twice, with the exception of Kokonoi. 

If someone became important enough that several of them were looking into your name, you usually didn’t live long after that. Usually, that means you did something very, very wrong.

The warehouse was a sweaty cold the moment that you walked inside of it. A large open space, with plenty of crates and carts and parts strewn around. Things underneath tarps that you were smart enough not to look at too closely, especially if something brownish red was leaking out from underneath. It wasn’t insulated, and didn’t have any air conditioning, either, making it just uncomfortable to be in for longer than needed. You felt your fingers and the tip of your nose getting cold, and the bones inside of you rattled a little as you took in a shaky breath. 

Walking forward through the surprisingly well lit yet dusty atmosphere, your footsteps echoed against each wall, sounding a thousand times louder than you were actually walking. There was no way that anyone wasn’t aware of your presence by now, not that you were really hiding your presence to begin with. You weren’t brave enough to try to sneak up on anyone here. Towards the back, you only halfway knew what to expect. You could already smell it when you came in.

The three men you personally condemned were there, dirty, bloody rags tied in their mouths, their arms tied behind their backs with duct tape wrapped around their bodies. Each man was crying hysterically; one, you were sure, even pissed himself. You could smell the stench of urine before you even got a good view of what was going on. There was a cart next to the men with a saw on it, some pliers, unidentifiable chunks of meat that you really didn’t want to look at for too long, knives, scissors, a lighter, and some matches. 

Sanzu was definitely having his fun, and you had the realization that they’d probably been caught the moment you left Kokonoi’s office. You wouldn’t be surprised if forwarding the information to him was the first thing that Kokonoi did after you left. Which probably meant that these men have been in here for days. 

The executives each stood around, some of them looking bored, and others looking on with interest, less about the men being tortured and more about what was actually happening to them. Sanzu stood above them with a gun in his hand, his second favorite choice of weapon, although you were almost positive that he didn’t necessarily care what was in his hands as long as he was able to cause mayhem. 

“ Ah, welcome, “ Kokonoi was the first one to greet you, his hands in his long red shirt’s pockets. You really never realized just how detailed the gold embroidery in his outfit was until you look at it glittering in even the mustiest of areas. Compared to everyone else, Kokonoi stood out the most to you, but that was also perhaps because you knew him the longest and you were the most comfortable around him than anyone else. 

You found yourself gravitating towards Kokonoi before you really even told your feet where to go. With everything going on around you, Kokonoi was the safest option. You held your hands behind your back, one of your hands holding onto your wrist, tilting your head as you looked up at Kokonoi. “ You haven’t been waiting long, I hope ? “ 

“ Not long at all, I believe you’re early, actually, “ he mused, not really caring enough to check the time on his watch. “ I thought you would arrive by the time Sanzu finished off the traitors, but Mikey hasn’t given his order yet. Maybe he was waiting for you. “ 

“ Maybe, “ you agreed easily, nodding slightly as you took a look around. The Haitani brothers were sitting on some metal cargo crates, with the younger brother, Rindou, looking a little bored, a small pout on his lips as he watched Sanzu move around the three sniveling traitors. 

To the side, was a man you didn’t know with a scar across his face, but you knew he was important. He looked like he would be hard to approach, and he wasn’t even watching Sanzu, his eyes were just on the floor, looking down at his own feet perhaps. He didn’t look bored, just indifferent to it all, like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

Close behind Kokonoi was a tall, huge blond man, his expression unreadable. It looked like he hadn’t even taken notice of your presence, or that he was looking past you. He didn’t really look like he was watching Sanzu, either. He looked lost in his own world, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 

Towards the back, there was a short man sitting down munching on some takoyaki, not even facing the rest of them, and a man close by him with a jacket on but no shirt staring at the exit as if he were already ready to go. 

The three men tied to the ground were writhing around in their pity, trying desperately to free themselves from the situation, fighting against the duct tape hopelessly. Seems one of them had a missing eye, and the other’s leg was busted completely. 

Sanzu laughed, leaning back almost morbidly and dropping a pill from his hand into his waiting, open mouth. Swallowing it, he screamed at the top of his lungs. “ Bring down bonten’s hammer of judgment on the traitors ! “ You thought it was an odd thing to say, but you weren’t going to say that out loud or you definitely would be next.

Sanzu leaned down to the ear of one of them, his finger pressed up against his pursed lips, “ Shh, shh, shh ! Pay attention to Mikey’s words ! “ He looked over his shoulder, his piercing gaze going right through you as he waited for the command of the man eating the takoyaki. 

“ Kill them. “ Mikey’s empty voice was so soft you barely heard it, but it was still audible, if only barely. And that’s all that Sanzu needed. 

You closed your eyes for the next few seconds, wanting to turn to hide, but unable to do that. The three gunshots rang out so loud it buzzed in your head as if you were the one who got shot. It sure did feel like you had, anyways, with the way that your heart lurched in your chest. The stench of blood permeated throughout the area, sinking into your nostrils, choking you with the scent of metal. 

“ Those who don’t fit in Bonten are scraps..! “ This time, you could feel his gaze on you before you even opened up your eyes, tearing you apart. He was directly talking to you, the newcomer within the executives, that much you didn’t need to be a genius to figure out. 

You sucked in a breath, feeling your hands shake behind your back, but you refused to mentally acknowledge that you were scared. If you did, there was a chance the persona you’d seemingly perfectly crafted could unravel at any time, and you were sure that wouldn’t end well for you. No, it was better if you pretended you were unaffected by everything, at least for now. You just had to hold out.

“ Make sure to clean up the dead bodies, “ the man with the scar on his face called, the look on his face best described as apathy. He didn’t look like he cared, nor that he really felt any type of way at all. There was no emotion behind those heterochromatic eyes, just tiredness. Exhaustion that went bone deep. You sort of knew how he felt, but it was still unsettling to look at in front of you.

“ Crush and freeze them. Turn them into fish bait, “ the blond man behind Kokonoi suggested, earning a small chuckle from the older Haitani brother. 

You knew about Ran and Rindou, who had killed when they were children and it just went downhill from there. They’d been on the path of bloodshed since they were kids, but their story wasn’t particularly unique. 

Kokonoi was on the same path since he was young, too, who you’d heard bits and pieces about during your time working underneath him. He’d been a financial treasurer since he was a child, always controlling the puppets around him to do the dirty work for him. If he could help it, Kokonoi never had to lift a finger, he just had to hold out his hand for the profits and keep his finger on the pulses of the most income, no matter what was bringing that money in. 

“ Keep it in your heads, everyone, “ Kokonoi gave you a little smile, his voice holding a hint of a dry, dark joke in there, “ Even between us, whoever betrays Bonten will eventually become scraps too. “ He leaned in close, until his nose was inches away from yours. “ That’s how Bonten works. “ 

You didn’t think you needed the reminder, but the words chilled you to your core anyways, as if you were learning for the first time what kind of organization you worked for.

You kept your head straight ahead, looking at him in the eyes, but you couldn’t stop yourself from swallowing hard, letting out a small shaky exhale through your nose, giving him all that he needed to know about how you were feeling right now. 

“ We have her to thank for bringing these traitors to light, right ? “ Ran asked behind you, not moving from his spot as he examined the way your hands shook behind your back, and you were glad he didn’t mention it. “ If she’s here, then that means.. oh, it wouldn’t happen to be her initiation, right ? “ He said it like he didn’t know, but you were sure that they had all been briefed beforehand about your arrival.

“ I swear, it’s like Sanzu gets to have all of the fun, “ Rindou shook his head, sounding a little annoyed that he had no part of the action yet. “ Where’s her tattoo going to be ? Has Mikey decided it yet, or is someone else choosing for her this time ? “ 

“ Mikey said that it needs to be on her chest so it stays hidden when she’s out and about, “ Kokonoi answered simply for you, finally moving away from your face to look at the Haitani brothers. “ It’s important that her tattoo isn’t easily spotted, so it has to go in a spot that most people would cover up. “ 

Finally interested in what was being talked about, Rindou’s eyes widened, and he almost looked excited, his eyes going wide with a goofy grin on his face, “ No way ! We’re putting the tattoo in between her tits ? “ 

“ That’s what the boss said. “ 

While you were occupied with listening to the conversation, Sanzu was moving along behind you, tucking the gun into the belt of his pinstripe pants. You could hear him moving about with the way that each of his steps echoed throughout the warehouse, but you didn’t dare to look back at him. Not yet, at least, unless you found yourself looking at something that maybe you didn’t want to see. 

“ Hey, Mochizuki, come help me with these goddamn bodies ! “ Sanzu yelled out, his voice strangely cheerful as if he were saying something completely normal. “ Since it was your genius idea to freeze them, you should be the one to pack them up into the cart so I can take them somewhere they’d freeze later. “ 

You thought it was just the way his voice carried that made him seem like he was closer than he actually was, but a hand smacked down on your shoulder, quickly jerking you back to look up at Sanzu. “ Can’t have the stupid little secretary getting sick while we tattoo her, yeah ? ..Is secretary the right word for you, or does snoop work better for you ? Since all you do is find people and bring them to me for me and Mikey to judge. Ah, I can’t tell which one works better. Maybe they both fit you. “ 

You kept quiet, letting him ramble on about what mildly insulting title fit you best, but you could feel the color drain from your face as you were brought face to face with this killer. Sanzu was insane. There wasn’t a single part of him that could ever even remotely be considered normal by any standards. He’d lost all of his marbles so long ago that you weren’t sure if he even remembered a time that he had a coherent thought that wasn’t about his next fix of murder or drugs. Not that you could ever in your life voice these opinions out to him, unless you wanted to end up as fish bait. 

“ I’m going to be doing your tattoo today, it’s a pleasure, “ Sanzu grinned lazily right in your face. His pupils were dilated, and he looked a little unsteady, but he kept himself relatively straight, rolling his neck and tilting his head as he got a better look at your face. His neck popped several times with a sickening crunch, and you wondered briefly if it had to hurt, or if he could even feel it. “ This is yours, Kokonoi ? “

“ Yeah. She worked underneath me. “ 

“ Underneath you ? “ 

“ ..Yeah. “ 

“ Hm. Ooookay, “ Sanzu didn’t say anything else, pulling himself away from you and turning right on his heels to help Mochizuki, the man with the blond hair, so you’d learned, with moving the bodies into a crate for later use. You looked up at Kokonoi, trying to keep your face neutral and honestly failing pretty badly at this point. 

You were terrified not only of Sanzu, but also about everything that was going on around you. This was more than you were expecting, and possibly even worse than anything you could’ve imagined so far. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the absolute terror in your body that made your limbs feel like they were going numb. You couldn’t think, using the last of your resilience to stand up straight and not break down where you stood. 

“ I think that means he likes you, “ Kokonoi mentioned casually, either unaware of your feelings or simply uncaring about them. you didn’t know which, but it was better you didn’t ask. 

“ Maybe he’s trying to see how long it takes for you to snap ! “ Ran called out, laughing a little at his own words, and earning himself a chuckle from his younger brother. You were sure you really didn’t need to hear that. Maybe Ran was the one who wanted you to snap, maybe they all were waiting for the moment where you just gave up, but you weren’t going to do that. You just had to get through this tattoo and then you were going to get the hell out of there. 

You’d worry about the next executive meeting when it came down to it. But all of this in one night was far too much for you. You brought those men to this warehouse in the first place. Although you weren’t the one who pulled the trigger, you were the one who put the red target on the back of their heads anyways. Their murders were on your hands as much as they were on Sanzu’s. You’d think after all of this time within Bonten, you’d have your head on straight and would become numb to the feeling of blood slipping through your fingers. 

You did not.

“ She doesn’t really look like a killer to me, “ Kakucho shook his head, barely giving you a glance before he passed on his judgment to you. “ She’s better as an informant than with the actual gun, but having her in the executive ranks was up to Mikey. He has a better idea on what’s best for Bonten than anyone else. “ 

“ I think she could kill ! If she was pushed far enough ! We could push her and see what happens, “ Rindou chimed in with a little nod, pretty proud of himself for his observation of you. 

You had to think for a second, your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you thought about it. Could you kill ? Could you pull the trigger on someone else’s life and cut it short ? You didn’t know. Sure, you’d hurt people before, and maybe those injuries had left them to die, but you’d never seen the lights fade from someone else’s eyes. You weren’t sure you wanted to, either.

You were learning pretty quickly that there was a lot of things that you didn’t know, and a lot of things that you didn’t want to know.

You did know, however, that all of the men within the warehouse was staring at you, judging you, picking you apart and trying to see what made you tick inside. Trying to see everything about you, the good, the bad, the wrong, the ugly. Even without their eyes directly on you, you knew you were being watched. That you were always tabbed no matter what you did or where you went. 

And these men were not the type of people to take notes and then go find someone else to deal with any potentially incorrect behavior, they were the reprimanders. They were the ones who ended the lives of plenty of people every single day. Innocents, bystanders. Anyone. Everyone. No one was safe from Bonten’s grip.

And you so naively had walked right into their hands. 

They would take your wings and rip them off of your body so you could never fly again, so you would be stuck in the pits of hell just like they were. Even sicker, is that they knew you would come to enjoy it after a time. a caught animal never outgrows its cage, after all. You were nothing more than an animal for them, a pet. And you were about to get permanently branded as one, too. 

The realization hit you harder than you cared to admit.

“ Come on ! Sit, sit ! Don’t waste more of my night here ! “ you hadn’t realized that Sanzu was back now without Mochizuki, and he had grabbed a metal folding chair, slapping it down a few feet in front of you. 

He tapped the back of it a few times, letting you know that he was getting impatient with you just standing there and staring at him, although it’s only been a few seconds now. You swallowed hard, moving over to take a seat on the chair, feeling the cold of the metal even through the fabric of the pants you were wearing. 

Now that you were sat, the world within this warehouse felt a lot larger than you’d previously thought. You could see how high the ceiling was, and could feel how absolutely suffocating the freezing air around you truly was. You couldn’t breathe in deeply without the lingering scent of blood and the overwhelming scent of something molding and rotting. Every breath you took stung your lungs, the cold having seeped into your skin and reaching the marrow of your bones. 

“ Gotta find my tattoo gun and get everything ready. you sit there and look pretty, “ Sanzu sneered out, hand clapping on your shoulder once before turning around to do exactly what he said he was going to do. You knew that this was likely not exactly the safest way to get a tattoo, nor would it be the easiest to deal with. 

He was a few feet away when he turned back for a second, his face surprisingly serious when he stared at you. “ Oh, and take off that shirt and bra or I’ll rip the shit off of you when I come back. “ 

Not a single part of you wanted to take off your shirt, but you found yourself with your fingers nimbly working on the buttons of the white dress shirt you were wearing anyways. Whether it was out of fear or out of habit to follow orders, you weren’t sure, and you weren’t going to think too much about it, either. 

The fabric slipped off of your shoulders, and you twisted over to have it cover the back of the chair so you didn’t have to press your back against the cold bare metal. 

You took off your bra slower, fumbling with the front clasp before shrugging it off of your arms, letting it drop onto the dirty floor. instinctually, you covered your chest up, wrapping your arms around your tits. But you already knew that your attempt at modesty did nothing. Everyone who was looking already saw. 

You couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, your head down, looking at your lap while you waited sort of patiently. There was no way this was going to take longer than twenty minutes, and then you could put your shirt back on and never think about it again. 

In between all of the genuine fear and lightheadedness that you felt, you also felt a pit in the bottom of your stomach form, tightly coiled but barely noticeable or distinguishable from the other coursing emotions rushing through you. In your haze, you didn’t think about it, didn’t even acknowledge that it was there. 

When Sanzu came back, he had a tattoo gun in his hands, and a cart that you really hoped wasn’t the cart that he just had his torture weapons sat on, and that pile of flesh that you really tried to erase from your memories. “ Hold your tits and keep them spread for me. I can’t work if my canvas is covered. “ 

You nodded, sliding your arms apart and grabbing your own chest, keeping the skin taut so he could work properly. 

Originally, he was just leaning over you, his posture awkward and probably uncomfortable for him, if he could feel his own body, but he decided that he wasn’t close enough, so his free hand that wasn’t holding the gun grabbed your leg and forced your thighs apart, stepping in between them so he was closer to you. 

It only took him a moment before he came up with another order, clearly still unhappy with the way that you were sat on the chair for him. “ Scooch your ass nearly off the edge of the chair. You’re sitting too straight. “ 

Before he gave you a chance to answer or follow through with his demands, Sanzu grabbed your hips, pulling you forward until your butt was nearly hanging off the chair, and you needed to plant your feet firmly into the floor to keep yourself from falling. Your eyes widened, trying not to make any noises from the way that he had grabbed you in such a way, completely manhandling you as if you were just a doll for him that he could throw around and pose how he wanted. 

“ S-Sir- ! “ You yelped, desperation hinting within your tone. 

Once he was happy with your position, completely ignoring your little yelp, he started to clean the area, the alcohol freezing cold as it hit your skin. It wasn’t until the tattoo gun turned on, and he dipped the needles into the ink that you realized that there really was no backing out of this now, not that there ever was. 

Your grip on your own chest tightened, nails digging into the skin as Sanzu leaned a little closer. As he got nearer, he shuffled propping his knee up on the edge of the chair, right in between your legs, pressing against the sensitive flesh of your most intimate area. You wanted to gasp, but the sound caught in your throat.

You didn’t have time to say or do anything as he finally touched the gun to your skin. No one really could’ve prepared you for what it felt like when Sanzu made the first mark on your skin. The needle was so close to the bone of your sternum, it felt like a painful vibration that shook your entire diaphragm, stealing your breath away. You closed your eyes tightly, breathing through your nose, nails digging into your chest so hard you swore you were going to break the skin. 

Oh, god, it hurt. It hurt so much worse than you were anticipating. 

Everything about this was wrong. You couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up, your entire body shaking from the tattoo gun needle going in and out of your skin. It didn’t feel like a million tiny little stabs like you had expected it to feel, more like the constant drag of a serrated blade against your skin, tearing at your flesh and forcing you to watch as it inked you just below the surface level. 

But the pain wasn’t really the worst part of it, it was just the catalyst for what set off every single one of your fear reactions after being on edge this entire time. You knew you were being watched, that every man had his eyes on you and were watching with rapt attention. 

It was something about being watched that pricked at your skin, making you feel everything far more intensely than you thought you would, like their eyes on you was some kind of aphrodisiac. 

You weren’t sure when anyone moved from the places that they were at previously, but now there were important, dangerous men circled all around you, watching as you were positively defiled by Sanzu and the tattoo gun. They were like vultures watching their next meal, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

You felt pathetic, and watched, and used. And it didn’t help that in between your legs, you could feel just enough friction that it made your already tense body clench up even further, his knee pressed against you as he focused on getting the lines perfect. You were trying to find something, anything to focus on that wasn’t how you felt in this very moment. 

“ You’re playing with the big boys now, little lady, “ Rindou hummed behind you, his voice almost melodic as his hand found it’s way to your shoulder, giving you a grin that you didn’t look at. 

“ Look at her shake like a leaf ! “ Ran snickered as he leaned down, his eyes narrowed while he looked at you. You could feel his breath hot on your neck, but it took everything out of you to wrench open one eye to see what was going on around you. 

Your eyes immediately met the older Haitani brother’s gaze, and you felt your heart leap out of your throat. Why was he so close ? Why was he looking at you like that ? You could feel the fat of your thigh bounce a little as you shook underneath their gazes. 

" Can this bitch stop fuckin' squirmin' ? " You could hear Sanzu's voice cut through your thoughts and the sound of the tattoo gun whirling that made your head spin a little bit. 

You felt small and insignificant, around all of these important men, shirtless and sat in a dirty old metal chair in the warehouse where a few men lost their lives because of you today. Your hand was covering your chest, keeping the skin taunt for Sanzu as he hovered over you in between your spread legs, one of his hands coming down to rest on your hip, knee pressed against you lewdly. 

Rindou chuckled, keeping his hand on your bare shoulder, feeling each jump of your muscles with every drag of the tattoo gun on your skin. “ Maybe not, but she sure is cute, don’t you think, Koko ? “ 

“ Mhm, “ Kokonoi was staring at you, you could feel his eyes examining your face scrunched up in pain as you tried and failed to keep your breathing steady, his features unreadable other than a small little smile on his lips. “ That’s my secretary for you. “

“ She’s fuckin’ adorable. Better like this than when she’s trying to act like a big shot in a world not built for her, “ this was the first time you’d heard Takeomi’s voice, and you were completely unsure where his voice was coming from, but all of the voices sounded like they were surrounding you, echoing off of the warehouse’s walls and amplifying them tenfold. 

You could also hear every pitiful little noise that came from the bottom of your throat no matter how much you tried to keep yourself calm. You were whimpering, your chest threatening hiccups as you fought back tears. It was too much. They were all mocking you like you were just a toy, something weak and easily broken, snapped in half like a twig. 

“ No way, is she gonna cry ? “ Ran gasped, his eyes wide as he noticed the tears that were threatening to bubble up in your eyes. 

“ She is ! Look at her cry ! “ The embarrassment of the Haitani brothers calling you out for crying was enough for the tears to finally overflow from your waterline, streaming down your face. You leaned your head back, eyes closed tightly as you tried to stop yourself from crying and hiccuping. 

You felt like a stupid school girl getting bullied by the older kids on the playground, your body on display for them as Sanzu etched black ink lines into your skin. Your cheeks felt bright red, and you wanted to pull away from Sanzu, and run and hide from them. Maybe if you ran fast enough from this god forsaken warehouse, they would take a few days to catch you.

As if it were a type of sick punishment for all of the sins you committed, Sanzu shifted just a little, knee rubbing against you and making you gasp loud through your messy, fat tears, your noises reverberating on the walls of the warehouse. You couldn’t hide that reaction, not even from yourself. 

Fuck, you needed more of that feeling, the pain of the tattoo gun almost dulling for a moment before the pain came back.

" ..She’s crying ? " If you didn't know any better, you'd really think that Kakucho almost sounded worried for you, but no one there had any intention of stopping Sanzu from finishing your tattoo. 

This was something that all Bonten executives had to go through, you knew this, almost like an initiation of sorts, and of course you were no exception to this case. 

But it didn't help that you were shirtless, and you could feel the eyes of several men staring at your body, taking in the sight before them. A few seemed to be enjoying your pain far, far too much, but you were in no position to say anything to them at this very moment even if you could, not when you could barely get out a sentence without whimpering.

“ Pathetic little bitch can’t even stop crying f’me, “ Sanzu murmured underneath his breath, his hand finding its place back on your hip, holding you still firmly against the chair. “ Stay still for me or I’m gonna fuck up. I’m almost done. shit. “ 

With each little line he drew on your skin, you really couldn’t think of anything other than the pain, their eyes on you, and the pressure between your legs. The embarrassment, stinging, and friction created the worst amalgamation of sensations throughout your entire body, you didn’t know whether or not to cry out in pain or moan out, or to break down sobbing. 

You were thinking that you might honestly do all three at the same time. You needed something that could ground you and bring you down from the headspace that you didn’t really want to be in, and before you really even had a chance to think about it, you opened your mouth to speak. 

“ K-Koko..! Pl-please.. ! “ You whimpered, hot tears falling from your eyes as you looked up for him, desperate for something, anything. 

“ She’s the cutest ! “ Ran laughed, his hand trailing down your shoulder to your hands that were still holding your breast, squeezing it a little bit. His actions didn’t go unnoticed, but you didn’t have it in you to say anything about how his long, calloused fingers felt pressed against the soft, pillowy flesh of your tit.

“ Shh, shh, “ Kokonoi shuffled around a little bit so he was directly behind you, his hand ghosting over your sensitive little neck, holding your head and tilting your chin back so your head rested on his stomach. 

“ You’re okay. Don’t even worry about them, don’t listen to a word they say. You’re doing so good, can you keep your eyes on me, pretty girl ? Look at me, look at me. You can take it, right ? Just a little more. “ He whispered softly, his voice slow and soothing, piercing through the low rumble loud in your ears through the pounding of your eardrums. 

You couldn’t really say he was calming you down, more like he was distracting you from the soft, subtle touches of the other executives. Ran’s hand on your chest, Rindou touching right below your chest on the other side, dragging his nail against your sensitive skin, Sanzu holding your hip down onto the chair, Kokonoi’s hand playing with your hair as he hummed little pleasantries in your ear. 

They were all touching you, unabashed with the way they got tired of just watching and now wanted to participate in Sanzu’s defilement of you.

“ Pl-please, no- no more, “ you sniffled, looking up at Kokonoi with a pout on your shaky bottom lip. You saw him smile a little, and his grip on your neck tightened just a little bit, squeezing the sides of your neck, stealing what little breath you had. 

“ You can do it, pretty girl. You’re getting too worked up, need something to calm you down, yeah ? “ 

Sanzu shifted again slightly, his eyes trained on the flesh he was almost done marking. His knee rubbed up against you, causing you to gasp out loud, your eyes rolling back a little bit. Kokonoi hand that was on your hair tightened up a little bit, pulling slightly. 

“ I said look at me, girl. You can follow simple instructions, can’t you ? “ You winced, barely opening one teary eye to look up at him. 

He looked so sickeningly sweet, like the worst drug you could possibly get addicted to. Being surrounded by all of the Bonten executives, each one of them cooing at you in a mocking attempt to comfort you and touching at your body, it was making your already fuzzy head swim with too much to form anything coherent. 

It almost felt good, the dull, throbbing sensation flooding through your body in small little bursts with each stroke of the tattoo gun against your skin.

Ran’s fingers began to tweak at your nipple, rolling the hardened bud in between his two fingers, not even caring enough to be gentle. Rindou’s hand soon followed suit, pushing against your nipple in and rubbing small circles, his nail digging in just slight enough that you could feel it. The two of them were so in sync without needing a word, it was almost hypnotizing how good your tits felt in their hands.

Kokonoi’s hand was still tightly around your throat, squeezing enough just to steal the breath from your lungs. He seemed pleased with how limp your body had gone by now, how all three of them could touch you like this and you didn’t try to fight back against them. He wasn’t a sadist like the Haitanis or Sanzu, but he did enjoy watching someone crumble right underneath his fingertips. Especially someone as beautiful and pathetic as you, it made it all the more enjoyable.

“ Maybe she’s finally given up on trying to be a bad girl or whatever and is ready to be a slut like the rest of them, “ Takeomi finally mumbled underneath his breath, standing behind Ran and Kokonoi and watching this all unfold in front of him. He didn’t need to touch you, not when the others were already getting you riled up past your breaking point. He was just watching and waiting for the moment where he’d be able to see the exact moment your brain turned off. 

“ There, see ? All done, “ Sanzu said finally, turning off the tattoo gun, sitting it down onto the cart beside him. “ Dumb bitch couldn’t keep still but I still managed to get it straight. “

“ I’m gonna finish you, it's gonna be cold and then painful. Don't be a bitch about it. " Was all that Sanzu said to warn you as he grabbed a wet rag, cleaning off the spilled ink from your chest. 

The coldness shocked you, causing you to jump up a little bit but it really wasn’t that bad. Then, completely out of the blue, he squirted the isopropyl alcohol directly onto your chest from the bottle, before wiping it off with some soaked gauze. 

You gasped, letting out a truly pathetic little scream with what little breath you had from Kokonoi’s hand around your throat as Sanzu cleaned the area almost too harshly for you. You'd been told that the alcohol hurt a thousand times worse than the actual tattoo itself, but it still managed to completely take your breath away, especially with Sanzu's cruelty. 

Kokonoi's hand moved from your neck to your cheek, letting you breathe finally as he gently wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. The act itself was so much more domestic compared to the spinning in your head, almost enough to make you forget about everything around you. You wanted to nuzzle into his hand and cry for even longer, but you stopped yourself from doing that. At least, you thought you did.

“ She’s like a dog trying to get affection from her master, “ Rindou joked softly, earning a little chuckle from his older brother. 

“ Maybe she’ll bark if we ask her to nicely. We can teach her how to bark like a mutt, “ Ran agreed, letting go of your tit. Everyone was gradually pulling away from you, at least far enough for you to gather your bearings, though you could still feel their eyes on you. 

You tried to push your legs closed, picking your head up from Kokonoi’s stomach, wanting to pick your bra up off of the floor, to regain some semblance of the dignity you had before you walked in here, wiping the tears with the back of your hands. But Sanzu stepped quickly in between your legs again, his eyes glaring down as his knee found a familiar spot in between your legs to keep you from closing your thighs together easily. 

“ Mm, bad dog. Keep ‘em spread. I have to show Koko something once I’m done cleaning you up, “ Sanzu rolled his eyes, grabbing a bandage to slap on your tattoo now that he had cleaned it up. He threw it on your chest over the tattoo, fingers surprisingly gentle despite his words. 

You knitted your eyebrows together, and Kokonoi shifted around so he could get a good look at what Sanzu was talking about.

“ You needed me ? “

“ Look. “

Kokonoi’s eyes locked onto your body for a second, looking from your face to the bandaged tattoo, down the your navel. You felt a little shy underneath his gaze, which was odd considering you’ve been half naked in front of him this entire time, looking away from him and sitting your cheek onto your shoulder, physically curling inward on yourself. 

After a moment, you saw his eyes wide as he noticed something, his gaze locked onto the crotch of your pants where Sanzu’s knee had been pressed against you. “ ..There’s really not a thought going on inside of that dumb little head, huh ? “ He asked, glancing up at Sanzu and then back down at your body. “ Feeling like that at a time like this.. Maybe you’re more fucked up than I initially gave you credit for. “

Rindou’s attention had been piqued by that, wondering what could have possibly happened, although he had a good idea by now, and he followed Kokonoi’s gaze to the seat of your pants, his face contorting into excitement as he turned to his brother, a cheeky grin on his face. “ She really got off on us watching her cry ! Look at her, she’s so fuckin’ soaked ! “ 

Your eyes widened, and your hand immediately flew down to hide the crotch of your pants, your face turning into a million shades of red within the moment. “ I-I– wait..! Hold on ! I– “ you stuttered out, trying to find some good excuse, but everyone there knew there really wasn’t one that you could give that could possibly explain such a strong reaction if it was just Sanzu’s knee pressed against you. 

Sanzu couldn’t stop himself, or rather made no attempt to stop himself, as one of his hands came up to rest on your shoulder, knee rubbing up against you through the thick fabric of your slacks. It was almost pathetic how quickly your little denials about what was going on turned into squeals of pleasure, head leaning back to look up at the ceiling of the warehouse as Sanzu tested how sensitive you really are. 

“ She really is cute, “ Ran said finally, grinning as he reached for your tits again, this time he wasn’t trying to be sneaky about it, and you seemed more than willing to let him cup your tits with both hands as he stood behind you, rubbing and playing with them. “ Maybe we really should teach her how to bark, she’d make really cute sounds. “ He made it sound like he was just joking when he suggested it beforehand, but you weren’t entirely convinced that was the truth now. 

You wanted to protest, to tell them to get their hands off of you and let you get dressed so you could go, but the words died in your throat somewhere along the way, leaving just little helpless whimpers and breathy mumbles of some sound that might’ve been ‘ please ‘.  

Rindou was quick to take Kokonoi’s previous spot behind you, letting your head rest on his stomach with his hands in your hair. He peered down at you, shooting you an evil grin that really only told you that you were in some serious trouble with the Haitanis and Sanzu touching you like this. 

Without him even really needing to say, you knew that he wasn’t as kind as Kokonoi was. Where he was at least kind enough to pretend to console you, Rindou was not that kind of person, not really. 

With his hand snaking down your side profile down to your throat, Rindou used his finger to keep your head tilted for him. His knuckles grazed against the column of your neck with his thumb nail pressed into your chin, forcing you to only look at him while the other two men touched and defiled your sensitive body that was already on the edge of it being way, way too much. “ What ? Not gonna call out for me to come save you like you did for Kokonoi ? “ 

“ She probably knows you’re not going to save her, “ Ran pointed out, hands eagerly pulling at your nipples, causing you to squeak out in surprise. You could faintly feel something trickle down your bottom lip onto your chin, but the thought really didn’t cross your mind to be concerned about it until you heard Rindou speak up again. 

“ She’s drooling now, “ Rindou pointed out rather bluntly, and you were reached forward sort of absentmindedly, wanting to wipe away any evidence of what he was talking about, but it really only incriminated you more. 

The older Haitani laughed a little at your little action, and you had to wonder briefly if those two ever only talked to each other or if they could actually interact with the other executives. You were pretty sure that these two could forget that others were in the room with them with how much they talked with just themselves.

“ Is she ? That’s too cute, “ Kokonoi called out from somewhere to the left of you, although you weren’t exactly sure where. The warehouse made everyone sound far closer than they actually were, with voices sounding like they were right in your ear the entire time and giving you no time to process what little thoughts you were actually having. 

Really the only thing you could think about was the way Sanzu’s knee was pressed up so deliciously against the most sensitive part of your body, the way his hand gripped your shoulder hard enough to hurt, digging into the bone of your shoulderblade. He’s not saying anything, his eyes glued to the spot on your crotch that was starting to soak through his own pinstripe slacks, causing the dark pink color of his suit to turn even darker right where he was pressed against you. 

There was no way that Rindou couldn’t see it play plain across your face the moment that Sanzu’s knee jerked slightly, pressed against your clit through your pants in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment. “ There she goes, all fucked out and stupid, “ he snickered, leaning down to your face, hand tightening around your throat as he finally gave it a squeeze, forcing a little gasp from your lips. 

You could see his eyes flicker away from you for a moment to what you could really only assume was Sanzu’s expression, but he looked back down at you moments after, neck still in his hands as he brought himself down for a kiss from you. As if on cue, Ran pinched both of your nipples harshly, making you moan out into the kiss just moments after his lips pressed against yours. 

Rindou tasted like alcohol, and it almost made you want to scrunch up your nose in slight disgust at the strong flavor of several different alcohols mixed together. He didn’t act drunk, not really, but you could only imagine that he was six or seven drinks deep by now. 

Maybe that was why he didn’t seem to have any reaction, even looking bored, when those gunshots rang out earlier. maybe he really was just like that, and there was no explaining him or anyone else here. 

you’ve been kissed before, and touched, but there was something about having six hands on your body at once that brought your mind spiraling to a place that you weren’t even sure you’d ever been in before. You felt like nothing, like every muscle in your body was suddenly torn into pieces and left you boneless and weak while surrounded by these men. 

You could feel eyes all around you, taking in your disheveled, desperate state. Kokonoi was definitely watching, and possibly that older man, Takeomi. You were vaguely aware that a few people were missing, but you couldn’t possibly really think about what that could mean. Were Mikey and Kakucho also just watching ? What about that other guy, Mochizuki, or had he completely left all together to go take care of those bodies ? 

The idea of people watching you somehow made you more nervous than the six hands actually touching your body. Were they disgusted ? Did they think you were just some common whore ? Did they pity you, or something equally frustrating ? Before you walked into this warehouse, you had a decent grasp on who you were in Bonten. 

Now, you weren’t sure about anything other than the knee pressed up harshly against you that with every movement from either you or him, it sent a shock of pleasure up your spine, and the slight pain of your nipples being punished and abused, and the strong taste of alcohol on your lips that you swore you could get drunk off of. 

If there was a light at the end of this, you were pretty sure it was just the glaring, annoyingly bright florescent lights overhead, or the hazy feeling in your stomach as all of the sensations started to overwhelm you, the pit in your stomach growing bigger, needier, with every moment. 

Right before you could really focus on that feeling, Sanzu’s knee pulled away from you, and you tried to jerk your head away from Rindou to look at him, but his grip on your neck tightened, keeping you firmly in place against him, and refusing to let you go just like that. 

At your gasp, he pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, the taste of his saliva momentarily shocking you from really reacting. 

Fuck, whatever bullshit you were thinking about him tasting like alcohol was wrong, and you knew it now. He tasted divine. Like someone you could get addicted to kissing and forget about everything else in the world, and there was no doubt that Rindou knew that you were enjoying his kiss, too, especially with the way that your body almost instinctively reacted against his touch. 

You could feel your pants being tugged off of your body, the fabric that had been so soaked against your pussy peeling off uncomfortably, making you want to squirm around in that cold metal chair. One of the hands on your tits glided down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake as Ran slipped his hand into your panties, more curious than anything else about your body. 

“ Fuck, “ Ran whispered under his breath as his pointer and ring finger spread you open, his ring finger dipping into your heat, and you could hear Sanzu grunting in agreement immediately, like he knew just how soaked you were without even touching you properly. “ She’s so fucking wet. A sopping, needy little thing. “ 

Rindou pulled away, if only for a moment, leaving your mouth open and waiting for more of him. He’d been something that grounded you in place, to not have his lips on yours almost felt inexplicably wrong. With the distraction gone, however, you tried to peer back at Sanzu and Ran, but Rindou had a tight grip on your hair, keeping you from moving your head. 

“ She is needy, “ he agreed, his voice a soft purr as Rindou looked down at you, clearly tempted to kiss you again, but refraining from doing so. Ran’s ring finger curled inside of you, finally breaching your soaked little hole and making a pathetic noise fall from your lips.

“ Most sluts like her are, “ you could hear some shuffling around as Takeomi spoke, and you had to wonder how close he was. It wasn’t until he was right in your face, grey eyes with a scar running down one side of his face peering at you like he was looking at something below him. 

Compared to the amusement dancing around Rindou’s eyes, and the faux comfort in Kokonoi’s, looking at Takeomi was like looking at someone who’s hatred for you went deeper than his own bones. 

With your head pulled back, you couldn’t do much as Takeomi leaned in closer, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing the smoke directly in your face. You shook your head, trying not to cough, but in the end the taste of nicotine choked you, and you couldn’t help your body’s natural reaction of wanting to fight back, trying to pull your head away from Rindou’s grip as you coughed. 

Takeomi’s hand moved to grab your face, causing you to stiffen against his grip. His fingers dig harshly into the soft flesh of your cheeks, forcing your jaws apart and your mouth open. You weren’t sure just how many bruises on your body you were going to have after you escaped from this warehouse, but you already knew that you’d have his fingerprints on you that would take days for them to properly go away. 

Without a warning or any inclination of what he was doing, he spit in your mouth, the filthy act making you immediately recoil in surprise, eyes blown wide as it hit your tongue. 

It tasted bad, like cheap alcohol and nicotine, the flavor enough to make you want to retch ever so slightly. your knee bounced up and down as your face scrunched up, nose crinkling in distaste and you momentarily entertained the thought of spitting it back out of your mouth to get the taste out quicker. But you didn’t get far with that thought.

“ Swallow it, “ Kokonoi ordered simply without a moment’s hesitation, as if he could read your thoughts. 

You could feel your stomach drop down to your feet, but something inside of you told you to listen, like you couldn’t really deny Kokonoi – or anyone else here, really – if they told you to directly do something. You were the best at following orders, that’s what got you so far up the ladder in Bonten. It was an act that you had perfected down to an art form, and you weren’t easily swayed out of old habits.

With your mouth still forced open by Takeomi, you let the spit that had hit your tongue drip down to the back of your throat, gulping just enough that it went down. 

And with that, Takeomi pulled away only slightly, his hand pulling away from your cheeks and letting you close your mouth again. His much larger hand rests on one of your cheeks for a moment, almost tenderly, before delivering a small slap to your face. 

It didn’t hurt all that much since your body was primed and ready for pain after everything that has happened today, it just shocked you a little, and you let out a little gasp of surprise when you felt the slight stinging on your cheek. But Takeomi moved away from you after glancing over your body one good time, taking in every one of your curves and the dips of your body, his gaze somewhere in between reverent admiration and absolute hatred. 

“ She really takes orders from Koko still ! “ Ran snickered after everything settled for a moment, his finger still stuffed deep into your cunt, curled to hit that spot within you that made you want to moan out and forget everything except for the feeling. 

“ Yeah, don’t you know you’re an executive now ? You don’t have to take orders from Koko, “ Rindou pointed out in agreement to his older brother, like usual going along with whatever Ran says and just being mean. His grip on your hair softened a little bit, but he didn’t want you to look back just yet. “ Or any of us, really. You don’t have to listen to a single one of us anymore other than Mikey. “ 

Was Mikey even in the warehouse anymore ? Did he have any say over what was going on, did he simply not care, or was he enjoying it, too ? You now knew that Takeomi was there and participating, but it still felt a few people weren’t, or at least, they weren’t active in touching you. 

Mochizuki, Kakucho, and Mikey weren’t there yet, something that you wanted to ask about, or at least figure out who was touching you and who was just watching. But you didn’t have a good idea of your surroundings, your vision usually forced a certain direction by the people manipulating and violating your body.

Before you could say these thoughts, however, Ran’s hand moves away from your pussy, pulling out of you completely and moving away from your body just slightly, and Rindou had all but completely let go of your hair, although your head was still back as you tried to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. You wanted to whine about the lack of contact, the sound welling up in your throat.

You didn’t really have time to do either one of those things as your legs get hoisted up over Sanzu’s shoulders, body pressed against his in a way that had your head reeling with the new type of contact. You’re barely hanging on to the small metal chair, ass almost hanging off of it like you were bound to fall any second now. 

Its not until you feel your panties being pulled to the side of your cunt that you can really get a good understanding of what was going on, or what was about to happen. 

“ I– wait– “ you started nervously, glancing down to look at Sanzu, but he wasn’t looking at your face, his eyes lowered at where your body was against his. 

You didn’t want him not to do it, some part of you was more excited about this than you cared to let on to anyone, even if everyone could already see it on your face without you having to say anything about it. You could feel your own wetness drip down your body and onto the ground below you, probably on Sanzu’s shoes or the cold cement ground. 

“ Mm– no, I’ve been waiting long enough, “ Sanzu said impatiently, his voice still holding just a little bit of that bark it had when he first met you. Sanzu was mean, and he didn’t pretend to be anything less than that. Cold and detached from most things, you knew that he didn’t care really if you were absolutely ready or not. 

“ Bitch is fucking soaked f’me, god, “ he mumbled underneath his breath, more to himself than anyone else, but the Haitanis both let out little chuckles at his words anyways. Ran, in particular, who’d spent the last few minutes prepping you for him, not that you really needed it or anything. 

You found yourself holding your breath as you watched him unbuckle his belt and tug his pants down, the outline of his hard cock visible before he even got it out yet. 

Fuck, you were going to die. It wasn’t so much the length of him that made your stomach twist in nervous knots as it was the look on Sanzu’s face, like he was going to take exactly what he wanted now that there was nothing between the two of you. 

You wanted to beg him for just another moment, but you knew that your pleas would fall on deaf ears as he let go of one of your legs to guide himself into your entrance. With a swift, fluid motion, Sanzu pushed himself into you, the stretch of having him inside of you making mewl out in pleasure, little moans escaping from your throat. 

Both of Sanzu’s hands went back to your legs, pulling you a little closer to him as he began to fuck into you with a pace that bordered on violent, his hips meeting yours as he embedded himself in your gooey walls entirely with each thrust. He was barely pulling out, his entirely length disappearing completely inside of you, his balls hitting the plumpness of your ass every movement. 

“ A-ah.. f-fuck..! “ You whimpered, gasping a little bit as he fucked you, unrelenting in taking what he wanted. You tried to say something, but your words were incoherent and incomprehensible, your voice hiccuping in your throat as you just moaned like a desperate whore for him, for all of these men around you. 

After being pushed to the edge for so long, first with the tattoo and then with the teasing and now this, you couldn’t hold on anymore, not with how Sanzu felt inside of you, and the feeling of being watched by everyone around you, hands letting go of the chair that you’d been holding onto as you felt your orgasm crash over you almost painfully. 

You could hear each one of your pathetically loud moans reverberate off of the walls of the warehouse, making your desperation for more all the more obvious to each one of them. You could feel the force of each of Sanzu’s thrusts bouncing your entire body against the metal chair, until you couldn’t stay on any longer, ass falling off of the chair and you let out a scream of surprise, but Sanzu didn’t let up.

He bent over slightly, still deep inside of you now as he let out several little grunts, a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as he felt your body squeeze around him. Your legs were still thrown over his shoulders as you tried to reach for the ground, your body suspended completely in the air with no good way of reaching the ground below you. 

There was no way, was he really going to fuck you while you were upside, just like this ? You could feel the blood rushing to your head as you gasped and writhed around in his grip. You could hear some chuckling and something that sounded similar to a man’s moans that wasn’t Sanzu’s all around you, but you could really only look up and see everyone, and finally you got a good idea of where everyone was around you. 

The Haitanis were on either side of Sanzu, both looking down at your limp, hanging body as he fucked you like this. Ran was lazily stroking himself with his pants barely tugged off of his waist, while Rindou was still busy palming himself through his pants, clearly wanting to make himself wait as long as possible before he gave in and touched himself without anything in the way. 

Takeomi was a little ways away to your left, his dick in his hand as he watched you squirm around in the air like the slut he thought you were. 

Kakucho was a little ways away, his arms crossed as he watched the other Bonten guys touching you. Despite the expressionless look on his face, you know you saw a bulge in his pants that he had to be ignoring on purpose, and you wondered if he would even give himself a chance to indulge himself a little bit even if you asked him personally to join. 

You had no idea where Mikey was, or Mochizuki for that matter. You were pretty sure that the latter was probably out taking care of those bodies for Sanzu, or didn’t care enough to stay, he didn’t seem like the type to touch people like this. Maybe he had no idea this was even happening and would be pissed if he knew he missed out on… whatever this is. You didn’t know him well enough to really make any good decisions about him, or anyone for that matter. 

Kokonoi walked up to you, the look on his face unreadable as he got close enough for you to grab onto him, and you did, digging your nails into the expensive red fabric of his long shirt to try to pull yourself up even somewhat. His hands reached up and held your lower back, straightening you out just slightly so you were face to face with his crotch, and you realized exactly what he wanted you to do. 

“ Open, “ he demanded simply, letting you grab onto him as tight as you want to. You knew that he didn’t mind being your anchor as long as you did as he asked, and you were in no position to deny orders from him, not like this. 

He had his pants pulled down just enough for you that all you had to do was open your pretty mouth and let him slide himself in, and you found yourself almost eager to do so. You had known him for quite some time now, since before he let his hair grow out and bleached it. If there was anyone here that you could admit that you were secretly rather excited to touch, it would be Kokonoi. 

He’s not huge, which you were rather grateful for because you didn’t want to struggle to take him when you knew that you couldn’t really pull back. Kokonoi would be the one controlling how deep you took him and when you got a chance to breathe, like your body was no longer yours at this point. ‘

You were starting to believe that it wasn’t.

Willingly opening your mouth for him, he almost looks proud as he pushed his hips forward into your mouth, letting you taste him for the first time. His dick was leaky, precum coating your tongue almost immediately, the taste sweet and salty at the same time. He looked like he took good care of himself, body hair well kept and he smelled really, really good compared to the faint scent of blood and gunpowder that you’ve been smelling in the air this entire time. 

He pushed himself completely into your throat, the column of your neck bulging as you took his entire length, and you had to grab at his shirt tighter to keep yourself from writhing around. Kokonoi seemed to understand that you were struggling for just a moment, rocking his hips back and forth to let you get used to the new intrusion. 

It was hard to calm down your throat enough to properly take him with Sanzu still stuffing himself inside of your drenched cunt, like he didn’t care if you were struggling with someone else and certainly wasn’t going to stop himself because of it, and you couldn’t help but mewl and moan around Kokonoi’s cock, drool from your lips dripping down your face into your hairline. 

“ Fuck, just like that, “ Kokonoi whispered, his hands going down to grab you by your armpits to keep you up so you could free your hands up. With him holding onto your arms like he was, and Sanzu still having your legs on his shoulders, you were completely suspended in the air, the only thing holding you from falling being the mercy and pleasure of these men around you. 

Your arms were limp in the air below you for a moment until a tender hand came to grab yours, almost immediately guiding your hand to his cock so you could stroke it. 

“ Come on, little girl, “ Ran purred, his voice condescending as his hand tightened around yours for a moment, guiding your fist to stroke him the way he wanted you to. “ Stroke me just like that, make me cum just like that. You can do it. “ 

Rindou, of course, wasn’t far behind him, finally having worked himself up to a point that he couldn’t control himself any more and absolutely needed to feel your touch on his dick. 

He unzipped his pants and shrugged them down to his knees, grabbing your other hand and guiding you the same way that his older brother had. “ Nghh– fuck– “ he mumbled under his breath, trying to keep his cool as he felt your fingers wrap around his cock almost on your own. 

The two brothers hold your hands for a while, either one of them having their own preferred way of having you touch them. Ran preferred slower strokes, with your fingers tighter around him. He clearly enjoyed your hand on his dry cock, maybe the almost painful friction was something that he liked, although he did smear his precum around his tip and it very soon began to coat your hand in the thick seminal fluid. 

Rindou wanted it much faster, and honestly preferred to buck his hips up to meet your hand instead of waiting for you properly. He spit on his dick to make sure the glide was nice and smooth for him, but honestly with how leaky his dick was, it wasn’t even really needed. 

You had thought Kokonoi had a lot of precum, but no, Rindou continuously leaked all over your hand and his, his grip on your hand barely anything as he jerked his hips up to meet your hand with each little movement, like he was trying to fuck into your hand. 

Moans filled the entire warehouse as your entire body was being used, either your own or from several of the men. Surprising nobody, Ran was the most vocal, mumbling stuff under his breath about how good it probably felt to fuck your mouth or pussy if your hand felt this damn good. 

Rindou made a little noise in agreement, but at this point he was so worked up that he was too focused on reaching that high more than anything else, devolved into nothing more but little moans as you fisted his cock for him. 

“ You’re doing so good, “ Kokonoi praised quietly through little moans of pleasure, his hips rocking forward and back. Your nose was pressed against his balls, throat bulging almost painfully. 

You could barely breathe, and being upside down this entire time really didn’t help you find your breath, either. Praise really wasn’t something you were expecting in this situation, not with how cruel and mean these men have been to you this entire time, but Sanzu quickly squashed that, anyways. 

“ Good for nothin’ pocket pussy, “ he grunted out in between thrusts, his hands grabbing at your waist now that you weren’t half-way fighting against him holding your legs like he was. He squeezed your tummy tightly, feeling his fingers dig into the plushness of your body. “ Should’ve fucking known this is all she was good for. Runnin’ her fucking mouth to the wrong people for us and being a hole for the right ones. “ 

You didn’t want to admit that his words got to you, your body clenching up just slightly at how fucking mean he was, but it did anyways. You moaned helplessly against Kokonoi’s cock, earning yourself a little grunt of approval from him. 

“ Shit, she likes it, “ Ran muttered breathlessly, and you could feel his hand move from yours to trail down your body, fingers playing with your swollen and painfully ignored clit, making you gasp and whine in response. His hands really must love wandering, always on some part of you. First your sensitive tits, now your throbbing clit. “ She really is a masochist for– ah, fuck– for this shit, huh ? “ 

“ She’s gotta be, “ Kokonoi answered in total agreement, his grip on your arms almost painful. 

You hadn’t even realized that you were now fisting both of the brother’s cocks on your own now without their assistance, although your own movements were messy and uncoordinated compared to when you were being guided. It wasn’t exactly your fault, but it didn’t seem like either guy really minded at this point in time, something that you were secretly grateful for. 

Rindou didn’t say anything as he fucked himself into your hand, desperate for just a little more, his eyes screwed shut as he lost himself in the pleasure. He was honestly making rather cute little noises, small desperate moans slipping from his lips with every little touch from you. 

You were only vaguely aware of the other men in the room, of Kakucho and of Takeomi, until Takeomi slotted himself in between Ran and Sanzu on your side, dick pressed against your tit as he stroked himself close to you. 

You could feel your nipple getting wet from precum as he moaned out from his own hand, his low voice honestly taking you back for a second because you weren’t sure if you’d heard anything hotter than a man forgetting about where he was or who he was because of your body like that. 

You figured that he was sleazy enough to enjoy this kind of stuff, probably enjoying watching you get used like a cumrag way more than you wanted to know about. 

“ Shit, this bitch.. “ he groaned to himself, voice strained as his hand quickened its pace, needing just a little more before he reached his peak. You tried not to focus on it too much and instead keep your attention on the Haitanis and Kokonoi, and the incredible pleasure of Sanzu in between your legs like he was. 

“ Fuckin’ quickshot, “ Sanzu chuckled, gripping your hips a little harder. You were almost frustrated with Takeomi’s position, because now Ran had moved his hand away from your clit to make room for him, but Rindou quickly replaced that position for him, almost desperate to touch your cunt for the first time himself. 

Rubbing little circles against the sensitive little nub for you, his fingers were much faster and rushed than Ran’s, like he couldn’t wait to see you come undone on Sanzu’s cock, something you found was rapidly approaching whether you cared to admit it or not. 

At this point, you weren’t even sure how many times you could possibly cum on one dick, but something inside of you told you that you were about to figure it out today. It all felt so good, every part of your body and nerves standing on end with every little bit of contact, like you were a hair trigger away from losing it all. 

You couldn’t tell if you were cumming on his dick with damn near every thrust, or if it just felt that good to be touched and used like this, like you were something precious to all of them and like something they could throw away at a moment’s notice at the same time.

You couldn’t lie, not even to yourself, that you were enjoying this probably way, way too much. And that thought, somehow, scared you more than anything else today has. 

Were you really that fucked up ? Really that masochistic ? 

Feeling Sanzu so deep inside of your guts your belly bulged with the outline of his cock, and the painful stretch of your throat around Kokonoi’s, you knew the answer without having to say it.

Takeomi didn’t answer Sanzu’s taunts, instead he just let out a loud groan as he finally came, the thick ropes of cum painting over both of your tits as he released everything he’d been holding in all over you. 

“ Fuckin’ whore… Thinkin’ she’s some damn executive when all she’s good for is this, “ he hissed, speaking to you like you weren’t there, like you really weren’t anything but a set of holes to be used by these men in more powerful positions than you, more dangerous than you could honestly every hope to be. 

“ Yeah, yeah, but she’s so cute, “ Ran hummed in response, calling you cute for the hundredth time tonight, as Takeomi lingered, his hand coming up to play with your tits, smearing his own cum against your body. 

“ It was mikey’s decision to make her an executive, maybe he knew we needed some kind of stress relief toy. He couldn’t have picked a better one, shit. Your body really is perfect to be used like this, huh, doll ? Hm ? “ Ran asked, as if you could possibly answer him back, something he knew you couldn’t do with Kokonoi’s dick stuffed in your throat like it was. 

You let out a little whimper against Kokonoi’s cock as Sanzu hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, his dick throbbing with need from having you like this for so long. He was finally back to being quiet, his eyes narrowed as his fingers dug into your hips again, each thrust getting sloppier and more desperate than the last. 

It was clear that he was losing his composure, and quickly, and there wasn’t much you could do but pick a god and pray to whoever probably wasn’t listening to you anymore that he had the common decency to pull out.

Although, somewhere, a little inkling inside of you kind of hoped that he didn’t, but you squashed that part of you down before you could even fully realize the actual desire in your mind. Its not like you were going to act on it, you weren’t that stupid, but… that didn’t stop the idea from being there regardless. 

Rindou’s groans came from the back of his throat, his hips meeting your hand desperately as he reached that blissful ending too, 

“ Sh-shiiit, I’m gonna– all over your pretty tits, gonna– fuck– “ his words were almost incomprehensible as he moaned and whimpered on your side, body shaking as he finally gave up on holding off as long as he possibly could, not when he was so worked up like this. It felt too good, way too good, for him to be able to edge himself for any longer. 

“ Fuck, fuck– “ Rindou gasped out quietly, and you found yourself trying to focus on your hand a little more to be able to bring him to that peak he was searching so hard for as fast as possible. You could feel his breathing quicken, until he stuttered almost to a complete stop, hips barely rocking against your hand as you felt his cock desperately pulse and throb in your hand. 

The noises he let out were as close to heaven as you were pretty sure you were going to get tonight when he came, cum shooting out of his dick so hard it left Rindou momentarily dizzy and disorientated, only really able to squeeze his eyes shut and moan. 

You could feel it as his cum hit your chest and slightly further down your tummy, the second load on your tits only covering them even further. You had a little part of you that couldn’t help but think he was kind of cute like this, mouth panting little obscenities as he tried to calm himself down, hair stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead.

“ She’s so fucking good at this, even with her attention split, “ he groaned out, trying to catch his breath the best that he could moments after reaching his orgasm, “ Now that she’s an executive, we have to fuck her like this more often. Every Bonten meeting has to end like this, it just has to. “ 

Rindou let your hand drop from his dick, definitely far too sensitive to want you to keep going, but his fingers never stopped rubbing quick little circles around your swollen clit, wanting to see you come undone just like he had moments ago. 

Fuck, his fingers felt so good, especially in tandem with Sanzu’s thrusts into your sopping, desperate cunt.

“ Shit– she’s squeezing me real fuckin’ tight, just like that, “ Sanzu grunted out, his voice getting a little higher than it normally was. “ Can’t– fuck, can’t stop now, gotta fuck this bitch so good she learns her place. Nothin’ more than a damn hole for me to use. “

“ Fuck, yeah, but– damn, you’re making it hard to hold back, huh, little lady ? “ Ran teased, as you tensed up a little as you felt takeomi’s fingers tease your nipples, pulling at them slightly, flicking one of them with his fingers. He seemed mesmerized with your pretty tits, especially with them coated in cum like they were. 

Kokonoi’s grip on your arms tightened a little, pressing his body against your mouth and forcing you to deepthroat him, your airways completely covered or plugged up. 

You immediately started to kick one of your legs, hitting Sanzu’s shoulder repeatedly. You could feel the pressure in your chest build, the panic rising in you as your body started to fight back against not being able to breathe. Your throat clenched around him, drawing out an almost melodic moan from him. Even while you were struggling, he was still trying to draw as much pleasure from your body as he possibly could.

“ Shit, let her breathe so she stops kickin’ me like this, damn, “ Sanzu snapped at Kokonoi, which he only chuckled at before pulling back just slightly, enough for you to catch your breath without his cock in the way. 

“ I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it. Her throat just bulges so nicely around my cock and she sounds so pretty when she gags like that, “ Kokonoi reasoned as you choked and coughed, trying to catch your breath the best that you could. 

It was the first time that you really had to come face to face with the very real reality that even if Kokonoi acts kinder than everyone else here, he most certainly was not actually kind, and was in this for his own pleasure as much as the Haitanis and Sanzu were.

Somehow, you weren’t as surprised by that revelation, and once your breath was caught, you opened your mouth willingly for Kokonoi to take your throat once again, tongue flat and waiting for him, and he did so immediately without hesitation on his part. Even with tears in your eyes and a mix of drool and precum all over your face, you were still so damn eager for him, something that he found oddly charming in its own way, and so attractive at the same time. 

“ I trained this throat so good, hm ? “ Kokonoi teased, although there really wasn’t any bite to his words anymore, not with the way you were so obediently sucking him off like that, your throat bruised but still desperate for more from him. 

“ God, fuck– “ Ran’s voice cut through to your attention, and he grabbed your hand again, back to guiding your hand as you stroked him off. 

“ Stop stealing all her attention, dammit. She can’t focus on me with you talking to her like that. “ His free hand smacked your ass harshly, grabbing at the fat of it, causing you to moan out against Kokonoi’s cock. The harsh impact almost made you want to sob, tears that were already streaming down your face threatening to come out harder. 

“ I’m almost there, just keep fuckin’ going, “ you could tell from the venom in Ran’s words that he was mad at you for unintentionally edging him, forgetting about your hand and focusing your attention on throating Kokonoi. 

Lucky for you, you didn’t need to focus any of your attention on Sanzu, he was perfectly content with using your body like a fuck toy and nothing else, but if you stopped paying attention to your mouth, you’d start to gag and choke around Kokonoi again. 

Ran alternated his hands really quickly, still guiding your hand on fisting his dick as if he didn’t trust you to forget about him this time. Now with his other hand freed up, it found your throat, squeezing at it, pressing against where your throat was bulging with Kokonoi’s cock. 

“ If you wanna focus on sucking dick so much, let me help you, little lady, “ he hissed, grip tightening slightly against your already bulging throat. You gagged, your body’s natural reflex wanting to kick in again, but you did your best to try to calm yourself down. 

“ Its okay, “ Kokonoi soothed you after letting out a small chuckle, watching how you struggled to take him with Ran’s hand tightly around your throat. “ You’re okay. You can take it, yeah ? Just a little more like this, just for a bit. He’s close, just gotta keep going until he’s done, okay ? Can you do that for him ? For me ? “ 

Its not like you could possibly say no, but still somehow his words did manage to soothe a part of you, even just a little bit. Although you could barely breathe, and the pressure around your throat was making your already dizzy head get even more light, you tried to find a medium in between all of this. 

Just a little more, just like that, exactly like Kokonoi said. 

You choked again, your entire chest heaving slightly as you tried to calm yourself down, legs shaking on Sanzu’s shoulders. “ She’s so fucking tight when she’s getting choked out like a slut, “ Sanzu hissed out loudly, “ Keep going like this and you’ll have all of us cumming with her, dammit. “ 

“ You get off on getting choked, yeah ? Not being able to breathe ? “ Ran asked rhetorically, his hand that was guiding yours speeding up. He didn’t move his hips to meet your hand like his younger brother did, but he was definitely biting back some noises, body tensing up underneath your touch more and more every moment. “ I can feel your throat all tight and bulging, shit. Gonna cum, gonna cum, pretty girl. Just fuckin’ like that. Don’t pass out on us, not yet. “

Ran’s grip on your hand tightened as he fucked himself with your hand, his patience running completely empty at this point. He was feeling so good that he didn’t have it in him to drag this out any longer, although every part of him normally would want to. Something about the way you were writhing underneath him, letting him use your hand for his own pleasure to the point you didn’t even fight back as he took your hand for himself, spurred him on more than he cared to admit out loud. 

Shit, you really were so cute to him, someone he definitely could see himself fucking again and again just like this. If he could somehow convince Sanzu to give up his spot in between your thighs like that, he’d make sure that your cunt remembered the shape of his cock. 

He threw his head back as he let out a low, quiet groan, finally shooting his cum all over your pretty tits. You felt yourself hiccup, trying not to heave again against Kokonoi as Ran finished, dragging the tip of his cock against one of your tits to get every last little drop on your perfect body. 

Finally, after a few moments of him basking in the moment, he let go of your throat and your hand, his breath coming out in ragged little gasps as he looked over your body, painted with the cum of three men including himself. Rindou and Takeomi were right, every meeting had to end like this. 

The world around you came back from going completely black as soon as his hand let go of your throat, able to suck in just enough air from your nose to keep yourself going for right now, even though it was difficult to breathe. 

He wasn’t the only one who was thinking the same thing, not by a long shot. Kokonoi was finally starting to lose his composure after staying so in control for the majority of the time, his chest rising and falling as he started to fuck your throat a little rougher than he previously was, the rocking of his hips that had been a slow, lazy pace getting faster and faster.

“ Can’t… Can’t hold it back anymore, “ he groaned, hips stuttering as he used your mouth, his balls slapping against your face with each movement. “ You’re so good, so fuckin’ good at sucking cock. I knew you were good with your mouth but damn.. “ Kokonoi’s breath hitched in his throat, clearly unable to keep going for much longer either. 

Your throat was so sore and bruised, your jaw hurt so badly a part of your mind was worried that it might be broken or bruised even though realistically you knew that wasn’t the case. You’d gagged so much that your tummy was in painful knots, the intrusion of his cock in your throat still causing your body to want to reject it, but it couldn’t do that right now. 

“ I’m gonna cum, “ Kokonoi announced, one of his fingers tapping underneath your arm just a little bit as he tried to warn you for it, like he knew that you were just on the edge of it being too much for you and needing a break. Despite knowing that you were right there at that edge, he had no intention of pulling out and cumming on your body, instead deciding that he had to cum in your throat and make you swallow it to the best of your ability. 

“ I’m gonna cum, okay ? You can swallow it for me like a good girl, yeah ? You’ve done so well so far, I know you can swallow it. “ 

You knew you were helpless in this, you could feel that hopelessness permeating all through your body that there was nothing you could possibly do but take it and swallow it all. 

Your eyes rolled back, body threatening unconsciousness. Despite the treatment of your body like an object, your poor cunt was soaked, Sanzu’s cock sliding in and out so easily as Kokonoi fucked your throat ruthlessly, holding nothing back anymore. 

A loud groan escaped his plump lips as he finally let go, his cock twitching and throbbing as ropes of hot cum filled your mouth. You wanted to swallow it all as you gulped a few times, you really did, but your body was screaming at you that you were either going to spit it out or you were going to pass out. 

It was a mix of not being able to breathe, being suspended in the air upside down, and being pushed past your breaking point that made the world around you threaten to go dark, fat tears streaming down to your hairline. 

Kokonoi pulled out of your mouth just moments before you collapsed completely on him, and you picked your head up, coughing up the remaining cum that you couldn’t manage to swallow on your chest. 

He almost looked apologetic for a moment, like he almost felt bad for fucking you past your breaking point like that, but he didn’t say anything about it, and the look was gone from his face relatively quickly when he realized that you were as fine as you could be in this situation, just a little lightheaded. 

“ We’ll work on you swallowing it all, okay ? “ Kokonoi promised with a sly little smile on his face, still holding you up for Sanzu, picking you up just a little bit so your back could rest on his chest. 

He was doing his best to soothe you while your body was still being used, trying to bring you back down from that experience of almost losing yourself there, but there really wasn’t much he could do other than hold onto you. 

You were really barely coherent, just sort of nodding along to whatever he was saying, your mind empty from most thoughts, eyes unfocused as you watched Sanzu pushed himself deep into your cunt like he had been for the last half hour now. 

“ You just be a good girl and take it for him. we’ll discuss your performance afterwards, “ Kokonoi pressed a small little kiss on your temple, the action itself painfully domestic and kind, and normally you would’ve found yourself blushing a little bit at the act.

“ Shit, you have no idea how good she feels, “ Sanzu’s hands held your hips, strokes longer and more erratic. It was impossible to think like this, impossible to have a single coherent thought with how fucked out you were, your entire chest covered in cum now, including the tattoo which had luckily been bandaged up by Sanzu before this all started. 

And still, despite being so fucked out, your poor hole completely abused and throbbing in both pleasure and pain, Sanzu kept going even through your haze, needing to reach his own high, and you were desperately crying out for him, your first words since you finally got your voice back pathetic little pleas for him. 

“ Pl-please, “ you whimpered, hiccuping a little bit, your voice high and slightly scratchy from how bruised your throat was, “ Please, Sanzu, please. “ 

“ Don’t even know what you– ah, fu-fuck, what you’re asking for anymore, do you ? “ he sneered in your face, barely looking up from where your cunt was being stretched out around his cock and drooling for him to look at your face. “ Gonna ask me to stop or keep going ? You want me to fuck you senseless, even more dumb than you already are, yeah ? Look at you, so fuckin’ pathetic. “ 

“ So fucking cute, “ he groaned out immediately after, biting his bottom lip as his hips met yours. He barely pulled out before pushing himself back inside your warm, gooey cunt, his eyes practically rolling back at the feeling of your body clenching around him so tightly, like you never wanted to let him go. “ So, so fuckin’ cute, stuffed with my cock just like this. “ 

Sanzu had been talkative this entire time, sure, but he was never talkative like this, to the point where he couldn’t shut up enough to catch his own breath, his voice ragged and broken, punctuated with moans and grunts from him. It was like he wasn’t going to be able to stop now that he had started, fucking into you like a man possessed, like he’d never had pussy as good as yours before. 

“ Maybe takeomi’s bullshit was right, maybe you were made for just this. No fuckin’ thinkin’, no workin’, just being a good, tight hole for me. All f’me. Shit, shit. “ 

“ Sa- Sanzu– Si- Sir– “ you sobbed out through quiet, mindless little moans, leaning your head against Kokonoi’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of whatever expensive cologne and body wash he usually used. 

The pleasure in your lower tummy was too much, the only thing that you could feel in your otherwise numb and yet too sensitive body. You couldn’t tell how many orgasms you had throughout this entire time, your brain to fuzzy to make sense of anything other than Sanzu’s body and Kokonoi’s presence. “ Pl-please– “ 

“ Gonna give you what you want, “ he snapped, glancing down at you, his eyes narrowed, his mouth opened to let out little groans, his eyebrows creased in his concentration on fucking you so good you forget everything except his name and your place underneath him as a cumdump. 

“ You want my cum, yeah ? Body already covered in it and you’re still so fuckin’ greedy. Maybe I should cum inside, just for a change. Have you completely covered and filled, inside and out. Shit, with the way your cunt’s squeezin’ me, I might actually– “ 

He couldn’t finish his taunts, pulling out of you quickly right before his cock twitched against the fat of your pussy, cum shooting from his painfully red dick across your body from your navel to the base of your chin. 

His grip on your waist loosened like he’d lost every muscle in his body, letting out a little groan as he finally reached that point. “ So fuckin’ good, best pussy I’ve had, takin’ me like a goddamn pro or some shit like that. “ 

You glanced down at your own body, mind sort of working down from your high as you saw just how covered you were in cum. There wasn’t a part of you that they had missed, with your tits and chest getting the majority of it all. Finally, they were finally done, and you could breathe… 

You laid your head back against Kokonoi’s shoulder and closed your eyes, exhaustion wanting to take over your body, but you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that you couldn’t go to sleep just yet, there was more you had to do right now. 

Kokonoi brought you over to that metal chair you had mostly forgotten about, sitting you down in it. Your body slumped over it, head lolled back as you tried to catch your breath. 

“ Mikey, she’s done, “ Kokonoi called out finally, voice not directed at you anymore and far colder than you’d heard him talk previously. 

He pulled away from your body, falling in line with the other executives as Mikey stood up from where he was sitting facing towards the exit, walking over to you. 

You were only vaguely aware of each one of his footsteps, even though they echoed off of the walls like everything else had. You were only sort of aware of everything, like the entire world was spinning and blurry around you, and you couldn’t focus on a single thing. You were pretty sure you were swaying, your head leaning heavily to once side, your mouth still hanging open as you panted for some air.

There was a long, drawn out silence as Mikey stared at your fucked out body, his expression unreadable, although you weren’t looking anymore. Your eyes were closed, and you were trying to bring yourself back down from everything that had happened, but you were in the clouds, and coming down was a lot easier said than done. 

There was something in the look in his eyes, like seeing you like this unlocked something darker inside of him, scratching at a more taboo itch than he was used to dealing with. 

He looked at the tattoo, the clear bandage on top of it covered with cum, spit, and sweat now, his expression unreadable. For a second, you might even accidentally think you see a hint of light in his eyes, but it's just the way the fluorescent lights of the warehouse reflected in his abyss.

You heard him ask something, something about whether or not you would like working as an executive. Something probably about your new position that you had been given, but you couldn’t make out the words, nodding along no matter what he had actually said. 

Your body and your brain were disconnected, leaving you somewhere in between the two states of absolute oblivion and being conscious and aware of your surroundings. 

“ Go at her again if you want, “ Mikey said finally, turning away from you after a moment of staring. “ She’ll be fine. “ 

The permission was so simple, but it only took a few moments before a pair of hands found your tits, eliciting a pitifully quiet little whine of pleasure from your lips as whoever it was pulled at your nipples and smearing the cum all over your chest a little more. you blinked your eyes open for just a moment, barely there anymore as you saw the gazes staring back at you, ready to make use of your body one more time for the night. 

Away from you, Kakucho’s ever watchful gaze stared at you, keeping his eyes on how you responded to each of the touches, even though you were somewhere far away right now. He clenched his hands to his side, internally fighting a war with himself on whether or not he wanted to join or not. It’d been way, way too long since he last got his dick wet.

Was this really your life now ? You took that step into this warehouse, and now you could never go back to where you had been before. You were an executive of Bonten, the tattoo on your skin a permanent reminder of exactly who you were, of exactly all you would ever be in this life. 

You were good at listening to orders. one of the best, in fact. It was more than just rare for you to mess up a direct order given to you by one of the executives that surrounded you, and that made you the perfect pawn. You could be molded into anything they needed at the time, the perfect canvas for white to cover your body. 

Innocent wasn't exactly the word, it was more like naive, and belligerently hopeful, even when you faced the worst. It was like you couldn't really see the world around you, not completely anyways.

Orders were orders, something that you were more aware of than the average person around you. If you were given an order, you did it without question. 

The tight black collar around your neck was the perfect little symbol for your status as one of the best. You didn’t have the key to it, and you weren’t entirely sure which one of them did, either. Although if you had to guess, your money was on Mikey or Sanzu. But its not like you really wanted to have the key either, not really. 

You walked down the street, the night air cold but not uncomfortable, and the sky was clear tonight, gun strapped to your thigh and not even attempted to be concealed. 

Your orders were simple today, and a part of you was pretty sure you wouldn’t even need to use your gun, not like you ever have. You’d had to pull it out a couple of times, sure, but you’d never had the need to pull out your gun before and take someone’s lives. 

That didn’t mean you didn’t have blood on your hands. You sent people to the executioner’s block several times over, like you were probably going to do today. 

Some stupid old man was causing trouble at one of the clubs the Haitani brothers owned, and you had reason to suspect that he was faking his connection with Bonten to get into a club meant for members only. 

How he was doing that, you didn’t know, because you were at least sort of aware of anyone and everyone within the upper ranks, often combing through their names and identities to sniff out people when needed. 

You didn’t have to show any proof of your identity at the door, the people there already knew not to ask questions your way, anyways. You pushed yourself through the door and into the loud club, the music so loud that it made your eardrums vibrate painfully in your ears. 

As usual, it was packed, with some people whispering in secrecy about whatever deal they were trying to make, others trying to get an easy lay from some of the girls there, and a few people there to drown out the horrors that came with the job with alcohol. 

Sure enough, at the bar, there was a sleazy old man leaning against the counter, leering at some lady, and you couldn’t recognize him. Whether or not that was the right guy, it was a start. 

Now all you really had to do was strike up a conversation, although that wasn’t something that you found yourself eager to do. Entertaining men like that usually meant that you had to act a certain way to get any good information out of him. 

Your heels hit the floor with each step you took as you made your way to the bar with a small, deceiving little smile on your face. You wrapped an arm around the girl like you knew her personally, “ Hi ! Sorin, it’s so good to see you again ! I missed you so much since you were away with your kids for the weekend. How are you ? “ 

The woman’s eyes widened immediately, a reaction you expected from her, considering you weren’t supposed to actually know who she was, but it came with the job. “ How– how did you..? “ 

“ How did I spot you in the crowd ? Silly, your hair is so pretty, I could spot it from a mile away, “ you responded quickly before she could stutter out her actual question, effectively shutting her up before she could give you away. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to play like this, and it wouldn’t be the last, but there was something slightly entertaining about being able to read normal people so easily, like you could see right through them. 

And in a way, you could. 

You glanced at the man, finally bringing your attention back to him now that Sorin was finally satiated for a moment, “ Who’s the guy, Sorin ? He’s kind of handsome, in a… unique sort of way, you know ? “ 

“ Shikichi Aoyama, at your service, “ he introduced himself, flashing you a mildly disgusting grin, clearly not taking very good care of himself. If the entire club hadn’t smelled like sex and alcohol and masked most other scents, you were sure his breath reeked.

“ Shikichi Aoyama… What a handsome name, “ you hummed as you pulled away from Sorin to let her gather her things and leave. 

You looked him up and down, wondering if he knew that you were aware that he lied directly to you. Shikichi was dead, you sent him to Sanzu personally last week for trying to siphon money from Bonten’s pockets into his own, you were sure about that. After all, you had been there to witness it go down. 

So if Shikichi was dead, but this guy was claiming he was him, who was the guy in front of you ? Looks like you did find the guy on your first try after all, something that you were silently glad about because if you had to talk to this guy for no reason, you were going to be grouchy about it for a little while. 

“ What are you doing here tonight ? Looking for a drink ? “ 

You hummed, pretending to think for a second before nodding, “ Yeah, I could use a drink or two tonight. It’s been a long night so far, and I have an even longer night ahead of me after I leave the club. “ 

You weren’t lying, not this time. You had a sneaking suspicion about what kind of night it was going to be, and you were sure you weren’t going to be getting too much sleep. After all, you had a meeting to go to pretty soon.

“ Aw, you poor thing, “ he turned away from you, flagging down a bartender to order some drinks for the two of you. While he looked away, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, only to spot two figures approaching from the corner of your eyes, and you mentally sighed with relief. 

“ Hey, little lady, “ one of the voices called, his tone dripping with false saccharine sweetness as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, something that you didn’t fight back. 

“ This the guy ? “ the other guy asked, glancing from you to the man in front of you, who was now trying to piece together what had happened in his head, still not recognizing the two men by your side just yet. i

It was something you found almost comical, because you knew what was going to happen next. This never failed to be a fun little watch, especially when you were expected to finish this up relatively quickly so you could make it to the warehouse on time.

“ Who the fuck are you two ? “ 

Ah, well, maybe you and the three of you would just have to be late for the meeting today, but it wasn’t going to be a big deal. 

You reached out and grabbed the drink that the bartender handed out, shooting it back as you settled into the bar stool that Sorin had been sitting on previously. 

Whatever drink this was, it tasted like ass, mixed with the cheapest vodka the club sold and probably club soda if you had to make your best guess, and you found yourself annoyed that this guy thought he really could woo you with whatever shit concoction this was. 

“ Damn, looks like you pissed her off, huh ? “ Rindou laughed a little as you made a face at the drink, sitting it down on the marble bartop. “ If you’re gonna buy a girl a drink, you have to at least make sure you know what she likes. And her tastes are a little more expensive than whatever you just gave her. “ 

Ran took one look at you and flagged down the bartender again. He didn’t need to say anything else or order, his go-to drink was already typically memorized by most of the bartenders, just like your identities. It was his bar, after all, so he could be a little difficult with their rules if he wanted to be. 

“ I said, who the fuck are you ? “ The guy asked, standing up from his spot at the bar, clearly ready to start an altercation, one that he probably wasn’t ready to finish. “ Don’t start giving me advice on girls, you don’t know shit. “

“ Mm, and you do ? “ Rindou’s voice was a sneer, laughing at him and just making the situation heat up even more. 

You wondered briefly if he was ever going to notice the gun strapped to your thigh, or Ran’s, or Rindou’s. All three of you were ready to go at a moment, although you would admittedly be a little slower pulling the trigger than the other two, something you weren’t afraid to admit. 

Kakucho was right, you were better as an informant than with the gun, but that didn’t stop you from having one if you needed it anyways. 

“ I know more than you. “ 

You couldn’t help but scoff a little at his words, wondering if he realized how idiotic he sounded, or if the alcohol was making him think that he was the coolest person in the entire club tonight. 

It was almost really, really funny how easily either one of the Haitani brothers could rile someone up if given the opportunity to have some fun with someone, and you couldn’t help but almost admire how they moved through life with such charisma that they practically dripped it. Nothing could phase them, nothing at all, it seemed. 

Other than a kiss from you, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. You knew that, you just simply didn’t say anything about it. Some things were better as a secret than they were spoken out loud, and you were pretty damn good at keeping secrets for people, especially your fellow executives. 

“ Yeah ? You know shit about girls ? “ Ran hummed, leaning forward to look at the man, getting right up into his face to look directly at him. “ You know anything at all ? You sure ? I don’t really believe you. Sorry, man. “ 

You almost snorted out in laughter, instead focusing your attention on thanking the bartender for the drinks that he had made for you. You passed one to Ran, and one to Rindou, keeping the other one for yourself and taking a sip of it through the tiny little straws. It was fruity, with more cherry grenadine than anything else. 

Ran turned to you, taking a sip out of his own drink and giving you a smile, “ Like it, pretty girl ? “ 

“ Yeah, thanks, “ you nodded, sipping on your little drink as you looked up between the two Haitanis and the man, “ You’re the best, ran. “ 

“ …Ran ? “ The man repeated, eyebrows creasing together as he tried to figure out how in the world that name was so familiar. 

But before he could use all of his brain to figure it out, a gunshot rang out and his head hit the table, body slumping to the ground. The club was only shocked for a few minutes, more stunned at the noise of the gunshot than the actual shot itself, most people turning to look at the assailant behind you. 

“ You’re late, “ Sanzu hissed out simply, crossing his arms as he made his way towards the three of you. “ Was that the guy or did you just make me kill some other asshole ? “ 

You’d think you’d be used to Sanzu’s temper by now, but you weren’t, not by a long shot. Still, you nodded once again, knowing that your time in the club was almost coming to a close, “ Yeah, that was the guy, you got him. “

Standing up, you stretched, taking the glass with you as you looked over at the three of them. Sanzu was in a bad mood, and the Haitanis were clearly in playful, teasing ones. Tonight really would be a long night, and the thought made you mentally sigh out a little bit, although a much larger part of you couldn’t hide the excitement about what was to come. 

Sanzu’s hand reached out, finger finding the metal loop of the black collar, pulling you towards him. You let out a little noise at the sudden act, shoulders stiffening slightly out of reflex. “ Let’s fucking go then, we don’t have time to wait all day. if Mikey gets mad it’s on you. “ 

“ Chill, we solved the mission she came here to do, Mikey won’t get mad. The person we should really be worried about is Koko, “ Rindou pointed out, but he followed behind you anyways. there was a hand on your lower back, and another one on your shoulder, and both were already beginning to roam your body, despite not even being outside of the club yet. 

Yeah, this was going to be a long night, but you found yourself almost skipping along behind Sanzu, following his guiding hand straight into hell. 

taglist ﾉ @qichun ( i adore you jasper thanks for being here through,,, everything actually ) @haitani-maki @little-ari-bear @leave-rae-alone @rockinrob1n @n4muqr @kodzuken95 @dramallama2d @tenjikusstuff4 @lywji7 @i04mnji @thisismarisaaa @honeygonebads-blog @hyperiondickrider @oococ01 @rustedrampage @jellybelly-may @mccookiemonster @cvpid-xo @dizzydesi23 @sleeplessreader @wakashudou ( togame liker spotted <33 ) @mouse-0w0 @hayleighloatx @akkkeiji @lyssie02 @edellly @moshimoshimoo-blog1

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @l-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[miley1442111]

Hi my love! can you please do something with Spencer getting hurt in a case and baureader is there too and he can't get to her before he blacks out. When he wakes up, he's all 'where's my wife?' and the team are so confused bc, u don't have a wife?

but it turns out he does and she's pregnant?

thank you my lovely!

omg thank you so much for requesting this, it's so cute!

relief- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: spencer can't get to you in time, waking up leads to the team finding out about a few things...

pairing: spencer reid x bau reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of gunshots, wounds, hospitals, very brief mention of spencer's addiction, etc

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer heard the gunshot and his blood ran cold, adrenaline coursing through his body. Where were you?

He ran before he felt the wound in his back and collapsed with a shout. 

“I’m going for the pretty one next,” the unsub whispered in his ear as he stuck a finger into Spencer’s wound. Spencer groaned out in pain as his mind raced. “And I won’t be as nice.”

You were in danger and Spencer couldn’t do a thing to stop it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer woke up to the darkness of his hospital room, he pulled the IV in his arm and panic set in. He had no idea what they were putting in there, he had no idea how long he’d been out, and he had no idea where you were.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, alerting the nurse outside his door. He could see a figure in the corner of the room sitting from a chair and his heart leapt out of his chest. You were ok? 

“Sir, you need to calm down-” The nurse started, trying to get him back into bed. The lights flickered on and he was deeply disappointed in seeing that it was in fact Aaron in the corner. 

“Where is she?!” Spencer demanded, trying to get the much stronger nurse off of him. 

“Spencer, listen to your nurse,” Aaron instructed. 

“Where is my wife?!” He shouted again. “Where is she, Hotch?” 

Aaron looked at him, a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m not telling you anything unless you sit down.”

Spencer sat down, allowing the very irritated nurse to do his job. “Where is she?”

“Who is your wife?” Aaron asked.

“Y/n! Where is she?” He stressed, running a hand through his overgrown hair. 

“I’m here,” you smiled from the doorway before walking to Spencer’s side. You had some bruising and a broken wrist from your fight with the unsub, but you were nowhere near as bad as Spencer. One of his lungs had collapsed from the gunshot and he’d been out for a few days. “They’re not giving you any narcotics, don't worry. You’ve been out for three days, your lung collapsed, and I think that’s it-”

Spencer reached up and grabbed your face and pulled you down, kissing you passionately, albeit sloppily. You could feel the tears on his cheeks and your heart broke. The last few days had been so touch and go, you were scared Spencer wouldn’t be ok, that he would… You didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you ok?” He asked, pulling away.

“Broken wrist and a few bruises, I’ll be fine,” You smiled, a hand on his cheek. 

“Is the baby ok?” He asked as he placed a hand on your stomach. 

Aaron’s brows creased further as the rest of the team by the door looked in with dropped jaws. 

“She’s fine,” you smiled. “I probably just stressed her out a bit.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “She’s a girl?” He practically whispered. 

“Yeah, she’s a girl,” you chuckled as he pulled you closer, a dopey grin on his face as he hugged you and your small bump. 

"You're married?" Aaron asked.

“You’re pregnant?!” Penelope all but screamed from the door. “How did we not notice?” 

You chucked as Spencer just held you close, not even paying attention to the team around you two. 

“Maybe you’re all not as good as you think you are,” Spencer suggested, his head resting between your side and arm. You laughed along with him as the team rolled their eyes, but smiled anyway. 

Spencer had never been so relieved.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, top gun, obx, hunger games, marvel+)

[whitemancumslut]

Look What You Made Me Do (H.S) Pt.1

SUMMARY: A guy flirts with you, and as a result, Harry kills him.

CONTENT WARNING: dark!harry, manipulation, sex, manhandling, sub/dom dynamic, hints of m*rder, mentions of wounds/blood, daddy kink

AUTHORS NOTE: Someone requested a dark!harry who gaslights, kills, and manipulates so i scrambled this up. I will def be writing him more seriously after this one 😂

WORD COUNT: 1-2k

It all started when she pleaded with her big doe eyes pearling up at him, her small voice filled with desperation and smallness. The vastness of the huge empty house seemed to swallow her up in his absence, leaving her feeling like a tiny speck in a sea of silence.

"Daddy, can I go with you? Please," she implored, her eyes wide with hope. She craved to be in his presence, for the reassurance of his company in the cold, echoing rooms of their home.

But his response was harsh and dismissive, his words cutting through her like a knife. "No," he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument. The frown that creased her brow deepened.

She continued. “Please, I'll be good. I promise," she pleaded, watching him pack the duffel bags, not worrying about all the things he’s shoving inside as she was once told that it was none of her business.

His job was a mystery to her, shrouded in secrecy and danger. Every night, Harry would return home with evidence of a violent encounter - bruises on his knuckles, blood splattered on his clothes, and his hair in disarray.

Despite her growing fear and concern, she was forbidden from asking questions. Harry insisted that his actions were for her protection, and that she was not meant to witness the darker side of his work. The unspoken understanding between them only added to the air of mystery and tension that surrounded Harry's enigmatic profession.

Harry sighed, dropping what was in his hands to turn to his girl. "Baby," He said softly, grabbing her face in his hands, his eyes filled with concern. "Is there a reason you don't want to stay here? You're always happy to wait for me when I get back." His words were laced with genuine curiosity as he searched her eyes for any hint of what might be bothering her. Harry couldn't bear to see her unhappy and he would go to hell and back to put that smile on her face.

Her eyes began to get glossy as she looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. "I-I just want to be with you. It's so boring here. Please daddy. Just once, can I go?," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be good.”

Harry looks down at her as he towered over her in their height difference. “Daddy has very important business, you know that.” He said. “Don’t you, princess?” His hand coming in contact with her head. Rubbing over her hair and then rubbing over her cheek.

She nodded, “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded smaller than before and very much defeated as she looked down at her freshly done nails Harry paid for.

Harry sighed, knowing he couldn't resist her sad, pleading eyes. Placing a small kiss to her upper lip. "Get dressed," he finally relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her face lit up with joy as she jumped up from her seat, a sense of excitement coursing through her veins. "Yes!" she wrapped her arms around his neck, placing a wet glossy kiss on his cheek.

His hands moved stealthily down to her backside, fingers gripping her butt with a firm squeeze. His voice remained stern as he instructed her to get dressed quickly. "I'm leaving in ten minutes," he stated firmly. Despite his serious tone, she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Okay Daddy," she giggled.

She started to make her way towards their bedroom upstairs, but before she could take another step, Harry grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her back with a roughness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"But you listen to me," he said sternly, his grip tightening on her arm. She looked up at him, the smile is no longer on her face as she locks intimidating eye contact with him. "I want you on your best behavior tonight. I need you to stay by my side at all times. Do you understand?" He searches for some sort of understanding and submissive in her eyes and as always, he does.

She nodded, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. But Harry wasn't satisfied with just a nod. He cupped her jaw in his hand, his fingers pressing against her skin with a force that made her gasp.

"Words," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Use them."

"Y-yes, daddy," she stammered, her words barely audible as she struggled to meet his intense gaze. The power he held over her was intoxicating, and she knew that tonight would be a night she would never forget.

He let go of her face and she made her way up to the bedroom they shared. Harry shook his head as he finished closing his duffel bag and swinging it over his torso.

The only thing she knew about Harry's job was that it always led them to a club. As soon as she walked in she was met with loud music and people grinding against one another. As they walked through the entrance, she could feel his grip on her hand tighten, causing a slight discomfort that only grew as they made their way through the crowded dance floor.

As she walked, she just remembered the two rules Harry gave her:

1. Stay by Harry’s side.

2. Don’t speak to anybody.

But Harry didn’t stay by her side. He was pulled away from her when one of his men came and pulled him for a conversation. The area was so congested, he lost track of her.

As his men spoke to him, a man approached his girl. It was another man who worked for him, she recognized him but couldn’t put a name to his face. Harry tended to tell this man off a lot. He would always cut him off and treat him as if his words and suggestions to their work didn’t matter.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The two words caused her to spin and see a man who’s awfully taller than her. “I’m Jared. I work for Styles. I believe we’ve met before,” He held out his hand, awaiting hers.

Afraid to be rude, she took his hand and shook it, praying it’ll be over soon. "Hi," she said softly, voice sweet as honey. The instructions in the car were clear - she wasn't supposed to speak to anyone and was supposed to stick to Harry’s side. However, the absence of Harry, who was meant to be by her side at all times, made her question the rules she was meant to follow.

She removed his hand from his grip and smiled kindly. He assumed that her being alone was a perfect opportunity to get her away from him. “Where’s Styles? Rarely get you alone…” His lips curled up as his eyes scanned her skin that was out leaving little to the imagination. Before she could answer—

“This is very pretty,” He said, his voice is as if he’s trying to lure her. His rough calloused hands came up and touched the strap of her dress.

“Thank you!” She said smiling. In a way, Harry always made it seem as if the men who worked for him were evil and cruel and not at all kind. But a compliment like this made her feel the opposite. “I just got it this weekend!”

And that’s when Harry flicked his head in her direction to see the interaction. It was like a light switch in his head. Eyes squinting to make sure he saw what he saw correctly.

“How did Styles’ get so lucky?” his hand came to her bare shoulder and before he could move closer—

"Hey, what's going on?" Harry interrupted before she could even begin to explain the situation. His tone was sharp, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there a reason you're here and not over there?" With a sudden burst of aggression, Harry shoved him forcefully, causing him to stumble and collide with the barstools lined up behind him.

The sound of the impact caused a loud screeching sound, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. It was clear that Harry's actions were motivated by more than just curiosity - there was a sense of menace in his demeanor that sent a chill down everyone's spine.

Jared’s tough guy act tried to go strong but anyone could understand looking at the glint in Harry’s eyes it was no use.

Harry grabbed him by the collar as she tried to get his attention. “We were just talking—“

“You fucking touch her? Hmm?” Harry’s fist came in contact with the guys face once again causing the girl behind him to drop the grip on his arm. Harry stood over the man that worked for him and kicked him as he grew satisfied with the blood pouring from his face. “He’s going to den.” He ordered the two men who he was previously speaking to.

He doesn’t look at the men, instead he grabs his girls hand with the opposite hand that wasn’t bruised. He pulled her along with him, ignoring anything she was saying.

The girl behind him shook her head as her hands shook. “Daddy—.” She continued to look back at the man being taken away. “No. Why’d you do that?”

Her voice was like a cry and he ignored every word until they got into the car. The car ride was silent as all she can think about was what Harry did.

When they arrived to the house, Harry walked to the front door and let her walk in. He didn’t even step foot in the door.

“You stay here,” He said. Before she could argue— he was out the door with a slam.

But nothing could have prepared her for when he got back.

When he returned, he called out her name. “Baby?” Harry called out. She sat on the edge of the bed, and her feet dangled as she’s been home alone for a hour. When she heard his footsteps come closer and closer, she lifted her head up awaiting his enterance.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted her softly and came into the room and the first thing she realized was his shirt.

The silence was loud and the stains on his shirt were screaming at her. He comes closer and places a kiss on her forehead as if she’s a clueless dog.

She watched as he walked across their bedroom and through his coat to the floor, sighing heavily.

The silence killed her.

“Daddy?”

He hummed, “Hmm?”

“What did you do to Jared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you have the guys take him?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” She questioned, standing up. “Just somewhere? Did you hurt him? He was just being nice—!”

“No!” Harry's voice boomed with anger, his eyes flashing with intensity, causing her to jump. The way his head flicked towards her startled her more. "Jared was a bad guy, baby. Far from nice. And if you couldn't see it from talking to him face to face, then that's a problem.” He scolded walking towards her with each step causing her to back up one, “I could tell from across the room that he was trying to get you. So, I had to take care of him. Look at this," he gestured to the bloodstains on his shirt, "that's Jared's blood. He wanted to get you all to himself." She flinched as he barked his words out at her. Harry's words were harsh and filled with a protective rage as he explained the violent altercation that had just taken place.

“So you know what I did?” He said, voice deep and cruel. Eyes peering deep into hers. His tone was chilling, a coldness that sent shivers down her spine as he spoke. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to bore into her soul as he revealed his dark secret.

Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of fear and sorrow clouding her vision. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, couldn't fathom the depths of his cruelty.

And then he said it, those three words that echoed in the silence of the room. "I killed him." The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the weight of his confession settled between them. Harry's nonchalant demeanor only added to the horror of his admission, as if taking a life was nothing more than a casual event in his twisted world.

The truth of his actions hit her like a freight train, a realization that shook her to the core. Harry killed a man for flirting with her. She had known there was darkness within him, but this revelation was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her mind raced with questions, with the need to understand how he could have done such a thing.

As she looked into his eyes, she saw no remorse, no guilt. Only a cold emptiness that chilled her to the bone. And in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of a monster.

“I know the man Jared is,” He said. “He preys on younger drunk girls and shoves them in his car and takes them to his place. You know how many times we’ve caught him for that? Going after you was him trying to get back at me for lashing at him in the poker room.”

As she slowly backed away from him, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't find the words to express the shock and disbelief that filled her. "Why—Why would—Why would you kill him?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely above a breath. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, as if there were another presence in the house, one that she couldn't see but could feel with every fiber of her being.

His eyes bore into hers, filled with a mix of determination and desperation. "I did it for you. I did it because of you," he explained, his voice low and raw with emotion. He took a step closer, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "I couldn't stand to see him lay a finger on you. It drove me crazy. The mere thought of another man touching you, it makes me fucking sick. Do you understand that?," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his love and possessiveness.

With those words, a sense of understanding came over her but it still flooded her brain of the thought of Harry killing a man. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone else, couldn't fathom another man treating her the way Harry did. Touching her the way Harry did. No one else could make her feel the way he did, with his fierce protectiveness and unwavering devotion.

In her eyes, she saw a love so deep and consuming that it both terrified and exhilarated her. Everything he did excited her but he was always such a mysterious man with a mysterious life behind the big doors of their home.

His thumb brushed the falling tear off her cheek. “The lengths I would go to protect you know no bounds, baby. Don't mistake my actions for those of a dangerous man; I am just protecting you. You have to understand, I am not the villain. Jared is, not me." With a sense of urgency and desperation, he gently shook her cheeks as he spoke, trying to make her see the truth in his words.

He let go of her head, and his hands fell to his sides. Her eyes following his—still trying to find exactly what emotions are filled in his.

“I did it for you. I killed a man that worked for me because he fucking laid a finger on you. Do you know how crazy you make me, darling? The things I’d do for you? Oh, baby I’d stop the Earth from spinning.” He grabbed her face again, but this time she didn’t back away— she melted into his touch. Looking into his eyes she saw something. It was a look of reassurance and once again she saw the man she loved. “I did it because I love you, baby, okay?”

Tears continued to fall down her face but she nodded as he spoke. “Do you understand that?” He shakes her head in his hands, wiping the tears as they fell.

She nods again, “I— I understand sir.”

“I will always protect to you. You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Harry’s lips pressed to her as he wrapped his arms around her body.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have never lashed out on you like that and I should have never left you alone. I just really hate when any other guys staring at what’s mine.” He spoke to her softly as she shakes her head. “I promise I will never let another man get that close to you again.”

“Any man who lays a finger on you will be damned when I get my hands on them”

a/n i wrote this on the train because when i saw the request i ran to it😀 here’s a quick run thru of what i want this series to be. this is so fucking insane oh my gosh and unserious. i want more of dark!possessive harry who can’t take a man saying a word to you.

[darksturnz]

† A SINNERS EMBRACE — matthew sturniolo x angel!reader.

SYNOPSIS: Desperate for forgiveness, she stepped into the confession booth, unaware that the very man who was the subject of her dream was on the other side, his ears listening to her confession while his hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock. CONTENTS: heavy religious imagery・semi public masturbation (male!)・perv!matthew・fem!reader・corruption・not proofread WC: 5k

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of St. Mary's Cathedral, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden pews. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmurs of the congregation as they awaited the start of mass.

In the sacristy, Father Matthew Sturniolo stood before the mirror, adjusting his crisp black cassock. His piercing blue eyes met his reflection, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He ran a hand through his neatly styled curly brown hair, ensuring not a strand was out of place. Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped out into the nave.

As Father Matthew made his way to the altar, his gaze swept over the gathered faithful. His eyes lingered on a young woman seated near the front, her delicate features framed by soft curls held back with a ribbon. She seemed to radiate an innocent purity that drew his attention like a moth to a flame.

He began the service, his rich baritone voice filling the cathedral. His words were honey-sweet, weaving a spell of devotion over the congregation. Yet beneath the pious facade, dark desires stirred within him, hidden from all but himself.

As the mass concluded, Father Matthew descended from the altar, ready to greet his flock. His smile was warm and welcoming, yet his eyes held a calculating gleam as they once again found the young woman. He approached her slowly, his presence seeming to fill the space between them. "Good morning," Father Matthew said softly, his voice like velvet. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Father Matthew, the newest member of our little community here."

He extended his hand, palm up in invitation. "And you are?"

The young woman looked up at him, her wide eyes shining with innocent curiosity. "Y-yes, Father. I'm Y/N, sir. It's nice to meet you." Her small hand rested lightly in his, her skin soft and warm against his own.

Father Matthew smiled, his thumb brushing ever so slightly across her knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I look forward to getting to know you better."

With a final squeeze of her hand, he released her and turned to greet the other parishioners, leaving Y/N flushed and flustered in his wake. One Sunday afternoon, after the congregation had dispersed and the cathedral lay quiet, Father Matthew sought out Y/N in the empty nave. He found her kneeling before a pew, head bowed in prayer. Approaching softly, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Y/N," he said gently, "but I couldn't help noticing how deeply you seem to connect with the Lord during services. Your devotion is truly inspiring and I’m sure your parents are very proud."

Y/N looked up, startled, then smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you, Father. I try my best to please them."

Father Matthew nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Your dedication is admirable, indeed. As your spiritual leader, I feel it's my duty to nurture that spark within you. Perhaps we could arrange some...private Bible studies?"

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. "Private studies, Father? But wouldn't that be improper?"

A hint of amusement danced in Father Matthew's eyes. "Not at all, dear. In fact, one-on-one instruction allows us to delve deeper into the scriptures together. I assure you, it's a common practice among clergy and their devout followers."

He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Think of it as an opportunity to grow closer to God under my guidance. What do you say, Y/N? Would you be willing to meet with me regularly, just the two of us, to explore the Word?"

As Father Matthew's hand settled upon Y/N's shoulder, a shiver ran down her spine. The gentle pressure sent tingles through her slender frame, making her acutely aware of his proximity. His touch was warm, reassuring, and yet...different. There was a subtle intimacy to it that left her breathless and disoriented.

Y/N's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she struggled to find her voice. "I-I mean...if it's really necessary, Father..." she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between his face and the floor. "But won't people talk if we're alone together?"

Father Matthew's fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly, a silent reassurance. "Let them talk, child. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and sometimes that means challenging societal norms for the greater good,"

"Besides," Father Matthew continued, his voice low and soothing, "our meetings will take place in a secluded area of the rectory. No one will ever need to know."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind reeling with the implications. A private setting with Father Matthew, away from prying eyes...it felt both thrilling and terrifying. She bit her lip, torn between her desire to please him and her instinctive fear of doing something wrong.

"I...I suppose it would be a good opportunity to learn more about God's word," she ventured finally, trying to sound convincing despite her racing heart. "When did you have in mind for our first session, Father?"

Father Matthew's smile broadened, revealing a glint of approval in his eyes. "How about tomorrow evening, after dinner? I'll make sure to leave a light on for you at the door."

With a nod, Y/N agreed to the clandestine meeting, her heart pounding in her chest. She spent the remainder of the day in a daze, her thoughts consumed by the prospect of being alone with Father Matthew.

As night fell the next day, Y/N found herself standing before the rectory, a mix of trepidation and anticipation coursing through her veins. She knocked softly on the door, her knuckles trembling slightly.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. Father Matthew stood in the shadows, his figure imposing yet inviting. "Welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Please, come in."

She entered hesitantly, her eyes adjusting to the faint glow of candles scattered throughout the room. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and leather-bound books.

Father Matthew guided Y/N to a plush armchair positioned near a large, ornate desk. "Make yourself comfortable," he instructed, gesturing to the chair. "We have much to discuss tonight."

As she sat down, Y/N noticed a Bible lying open on the desk, its pages marked with a silver bookmark. Her gaze lingered on the ancient text, feeling a sense of reverence wash over her.

Father Matthew settled into a nearby chair, leaning back with an air of relaxed confidence. "Before we begin our study, I'd like to share a personal anecdote," he said, his tone taking on a contemplative quality. "Growing up, I often felt disconnected from the divine. It wasn't until I dedicated myself fully to serving the Lord that I truly started to understand His plan for me."

He fixed Y/N with a piercing stare, his words dripping with conviction.

"I believe that same calling exists within you, Y/N. Tonight, I hope to help you recognize and embrace it."

With those enigmatic words, Father Matthew reached across the desk, his fingers brushing against Y/N's as he handed her the Bible. Their touch sent another jolt of electricity through her, leaving her breathless.

As she opened the book, the weight of the sacred text seemed to press against her palms. Y/N felt a strange connection to the pages, as if they held secrets meant only for her ears.

Father Matthew leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Let's start with a passage that resonates with me," he suggested, pointing to a verse marked in the book. "Psalm 23, verses 3-4. 'He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

Y/N's eyes widened as she read the familiar words, a sense of peace washing over her. She recited the verses aloud, her voice soft and reverent. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me..."

As she spoke, Father Matthew's gaze never wavered from hers, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle. When she finished, he nodded approvingly. "Beautifully said, Y/N. Those words offer solace even in the darkest of times."

He paused, studying her face intently. "Tell me, when you pray, what do you usually focus on? Is it asking for blessings, seeking forgiveness, or perhaps longing for a deeper connection with the divine?"

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure how to articulate her feelings. "I guess..."

"...I mostly pray for protection and guidance. For my family's well-being and for not doing anything wrong," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Father Matthew's expression softened, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on her knee. "Those are noble prayers, but remember, the Lord wants a relationship built on trust and openness. Don't be afraid to express your desires and fears to Him."

His touch lingered, sending warmth spreading through Y/N's legs. She found herself leaning into his palm, craving more of that comforting contact.

"Perhaps we can work on expanding your prayer life together," Father Matthew suggested, his voice low and persuasive. "Start by sharing your deepest concerns with me. I'm here to listen and guide you, Y/N."

Y/N took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she considered Father Matthew's offer. The idea of unburdening her innermost thoughts to someone - anyone - felt daunting, yet there was a part of her that yearned for this kind of intimate connection.

"I...I worry about pleasing God," she confessed, her voice trembling. "About not living up to His expectations. Sometimes I feel so small and insignificant compared to His greatness."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she met Father Matthew's gaze. "And then there's the fear of sinning...of doing something terrible and irreparable. It keeps me up at night, wondering if I'm worthy of His love."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Y/N waited with bated breath for Father Matthew's reaction, her entire being attuned to his response.

Father Matthew's expression turned solemn, his eyes filled with compassion. "Sin is a heavy burden to carry, Y/N," he acknowledged, his voice a gentle murmur. "But know this: you were born innocent, and it's never too late to seek forgiveness and redemption."

He squeezed her knee reassuringly. "The Lord loves you unconditionally, just as you are. Your worth comes from being His child, not from achieving some lofty standard of perfection."

Leaning forward, Father Matthew rested his forearms on his thighs, bringing their faces closer together. "In fact, it's precisely your humility and willingness to acknowledge your flaws that make your faith all the more genuine and beautiful."

His words washed over Y/N like a soothing balm, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She found herself drawn to his presence, craving the comfort and understanding only he could provide. As Father Matthew's proximity intensified, Y/N's breathing grew shallow. The scent of his cologne mingled with the musty aroma of the old books, creating a heady mixture that clouded her senses.

His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Remember, Y/N, true strength lies in vulnerability. By sharing your fears and doubts, you're taking the first step towards a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God – and with me."

One of Father Matthew's hands slid from her knee to gently cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin in a tender caress. Y/N's eyelids fluttered closed, savoring the sensation of his touch.

In that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to surrender completely to him – to let go of her inhibitions and simply exist in the safety of his presence. Father Matthew's lips hovered mere inches from Y/N's, the anticipation almost palpable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he inclined his head, allowing their noses to brush together in a fleeting, electric contact. The briefest of sighs escaped Y/N's lips as she savored the closeness, her eyes drifting shut. But before she could process the intensity of the moment, Father Matthew pulled back, breaking the spell.

Opening her eyes, Y/N found him smiling at her with an unreadable mix of tenderness and restraint. "Until next Sunday, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "May the Lord bless and keep you in the interim."

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew offered her his arm, guiding her towards the door with a gentle pressure. As they walked side by side, Y/N couldn't shake the lingering effects of their intimate encounter. Every step felt weighted, each breath charged with a newfound awareness of Father Matthew's presence beside her.

At the entrance, he paused, turning to face her. In the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, his features appeared almost ethereal, as if carved from shadows and moonlight.

"Farewell for now, Y/N," Father Matthew said softly, his gaze holding hers captive. "May your dreams be peaceful and your heart remain open to the mysteries of the spirit."

With that, he cupped her cheek once more, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip before releasing her. Then, with a final, enigmatic smile, he stepped back and watched as she disappeared into the night, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

As Y/N retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom, the events of the evening swirled through her mind like a tempestuous sea. Father Matthew's touch, his whispers, the weight of his gaze – each detail replayed itself in vivid Technicolor, refusing to be relegated to the realm of memory.

She slipped beneath the covers, her body thrumming with a restless energy. Try as she might, sleep eluded her, replaced instead by a kaleidoscope of forbidden fantasies.

In the darkness, Y/N's imagination ran wild, conjuring scenarios where Father Matthew's hands roamed her body with increasing boldness. She pictured his fingers trailing along her collarbone, dipping into the neckline of her nightgown to tease the sensitive skin beneath.

As the illicit visions intensified, a telltale dampness began to gather between Y/N's thighs.

Exhaustion finally claimed Y/N, her eyelids growing heavy as the fantasy montage continued to unfold behind her closed lids. With a soft sigh, she surrendered to the embrace of slumber, her dreams already tainted by the forbidden allure of Father Matthew.

In the depths of her subconscious, the scenario shifted, becoming more explicit and sensual with each passing moment. Y/N found herself lying on the cold stone floor of the rectory, her nightgown pushed up around her waist as Father Matthew loomed over her, his dark robes pooling around his knees.

His hands, once so reverent, now explored her body with a hunger that made her shiver. Fingers danced across her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples until pleasure-pain shot straight to her core. A whimper escaped her lips, muffled by the priest's mouth as he captured them in a searing kiss.

As the dream intensified, Y/N's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction against the damp heat building between her legs. Her hands reached down to press against Father Matthew's, urging him closer, wanting more of his touch.

Moans and gasps punctuated the erotic haze, the sounds muffled by the priest's insistent kisses. He Trailered his mouth down her neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin until Y/N arched off the ground, crying out in ecstasy.

In the throes of her climax, Y/N's vision blurred, colors bleeding together as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She clung to Father Matthew, her nails digging into his arms as she rode out the intense sensations, lost to everything but the bliss consuming her.

Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as if she'd run a marathon. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her nightgown clung to her skin, dampened by the remnants of her climax. For a moment, disoriented and panting, she struggled to anchor herself in reality.

As the fog of sleep lifted, memories of the dream came rushing back, leaving a trail of shame and confusion in its wake. Y/N's cheeks flushed hot, and she buried her face in her pillow, mortified by the intensity of her own desires.

What had possessed her to imagine such things? Father Matthew, the man she trusted above all others, reduced to a participant in her most private, debased fantasies. The thought alone made her stomach churn with self-loathing.

Throughout the day, Y/N moved through her routine with mechanical precision, her mind consumed by the guilt gnawing at her soul. Every time her parents glanced her way, concern etched onto their faces, she couldn't help but wonder if they sensed the turmoil brewing inside her.

The telltale flush on her cheeks seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a constant reminder of the shameful secret she harbored. Each time she caught her reflection in a window or mirror, she flinched, as if the image staring back might hold some hidden clue to her innermost thoughts.

By mid-afternoon, the weight of her confession became unbearable. Y/N excused herself from the kitchen, where her mother was preparing dinner, claiming she needed fresh air. As soon as she stepped outside, however, she found herself drawn inexorably toward the familiar solace of the church.

The imposing stone structure loomed before her, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens like outstretched arms. Y/N hesitated briefly, her hand trembling as she grasped the ornate bronze handle of the massive wooden doors.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the doors open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty nave. The interior was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors.

Y/N wandered deeper into the church, her footsteps echoing softly off the walls. Eventually, she found herself standing before the confessional, its wooden screen adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of redemption and forgiveness.

With a sense of trepidation mixed with relief, she knelt before the grated opening, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned..."

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew listened intently as Y/N's hesitant voice filtered through the grate, her words painting a picture of guilt and contrition. His heart raced at the realization that the penitent before him was none other than the innocent, sheltered girl he had grown to care for.

Concealing his true identity, Father Matthew adopted a neutral, soothing tone, meant to provide comfort without revealing his knowledge of her personal life. "My child, please, share your sins with me, and know that you shall receive absolution."

Y/N took a shaky breath before continuing, her voice trembling slightly. "Father, I...I had a dream last night. A wicked dream. I imagined doing sinful things with someone I trust deeply, someone who should never be the subject of such thoughts." She paused, biting her lip.

"It was Father Matthew," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "In my dream, he touched me in ways no one ever has, and I felt things I shouldn't have felt. Desire, longing...even pleasure when we did things that are wrong."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she confessed, "When I woke up, I was...I was soaked. It was as if my body betrayed me, responding to those forbidden imaginings. I'm ashamed, Father. So terribly ashamed."

Y/N waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited the priest's response, unsure whether he would offer condemnation or understanding.

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew's composure faltered at Y/N's explicit admission. The mere mention of her dream, coupled with the intimate details, sent a surge of arousal coursing through his veins. His cock twitched to life, straining against the confines of his black cassock.

Swallowing hard, he fought to maintain his calm, professional demeanor. "Tell me more, my child," he urged, his voice low and husky despite his best efforts. "Describe this dream in greater detail. What exactly transpired between you and Father Matthew?"

As Y/N began to recount the specifics – the sensation of his hands on her body, the taste of his kisses, the feeling of being taken against the cold stone floor – Father Matthew's erection grew even harder, throbbing with an almost painful intensity.

"Did he touch you intimately?" Father Matthew pressed, his curiosity piqued and his desire escalating with each word from Y/N's lips. "Was there any...physical contact beyond kissing and caressing?"

His fingers tightened around the edge of the confessional booth, imagining the tender flesh beneath Y/N's garments, the softness of her breasts, the warmth of her cunt. The mental images were almost too much to bear, stoking the flames of his lust to a near-blazing inferno.

"Please, continue," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Every detail is important for your spiritual guidance, my child."

Father Matthew could no longer resist the temptation. With one hand, he unzipped his fly, freeing his throbbing cock from its fabric prison. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, giving it a firm squeeze as he continued to listen intently to Y/N's detailed account of her dream.

As she described the feeling of Father Matthew's cock sliding into her virgin depths, stretching her tight walls, he began to stroke himself in earnest. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, he pumped his fist along his length, imagining it was Y/N's slick cunt enveloping him instead.

"Mmmm," he groaned under his breath, the sound muffled behind the wooden screen. His hips rocked in tandem with his hand, thrusting upward as if seeking to bury himself deeper into an imaginary pussy.

Y/N's blush deepened as she recounted the lewd acts from her dream, her voice quivering with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "He...he kissed me everywhere, Father. My neck, my breasts, even between my thighs. And then..."

She paused, her breath catching in her throat as she relived the sensations. "Then, he entered me. It hurt at first, but soon it felt so good. Like nothing l've ever experienced before. I wanted more, even though I knew it was wrong."

Y/N's confession hung heavy in the air, the vivid descriptions painting a scandalous picture in Father Matthew's mind. His cock throbbed painfully, straining against the fabric of his clerical robes. He could hardly believe the depraved thoughts now racing through his head.

Father Matthew's composure slipped further with each salacious detail Y/N revealed. His breathing grew ragged, punctuated by stifled groans as he continued to stroke his aching cock. The once sacred space of the confessional now reeked of sin and debauchery, the air thick with the musk of his arousal.

"Go on," he urged, his voice strained and unsteady. Gone was the calm, reassuring tone of a spiritual guide; in its place was the desperate plea of a man teetering on the brink of self-control. "Tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail."

Y/N's innocence, her purity, only served to fuel the fire burning within him. He imagined defiling her, corrupting her, molding her into his perfect little slut.

Father Matthew's mind raced with perverse fantasies, each one more depraved than the last. In his twisted imagination, he saw himself bending Y/N over the altar, tearing away her flimsy dress to reveal her nubile body. He pictured her on her knees before him, those innocent eyes wide with shock as she took his cock into her mouth, gagging on his length.

The thought of claiming her virginity, of being the first and only man to plunge into her untouched depths, drove him wild with lust. He stroked faster, harder, chasing the release that seemed just out of reach.

Father Matthew's resolve crumbled like a house of cards, the soft sniffles emanating from Y/N proving to be his undoing. The sound of her guilt, her shame, only served to heighten his own dark desires, pushing him over the precipice of restraint.

With a strangled cry, he erupted, his seed spilling forth in hot, pulsing spurts. Ropes of cum painted the inside of the confessional, splattering against the wood in obscene patterns. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the waves of his climax, each twitch sending another burst of semen from his spasming cock.

As the haze of orgasm slowly dissipated, Father Matthew slumped back in his seat, his chest heaving with exertion. He quickly tucked his spent member back into his cassock, zipping up his fly with shaking hands.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Father Matthew tried to compose himself, to slip back into the role of the compassionate priest. "My child," he began, his voice still slightly rougher than usual, "you mustn't blame yourself for these dreams. They are merely manifestations of your natural, God-given desires, warped by the influence of the world outside our holy sanctuary."

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "What matters most is that you recognize the sinfulness of such thoughts and actions. Repentance is key, and you've already shown great courage in confessing these impure urges."

Father Matthew's mind raced, torn between his vows and his growing obsession with Y/N. He knew he should steer her towards prayer, fasting, and increased devotion to ward off these temptations.

Father Matthew's heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears as he grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him. The urge to lead Y/N astray, to encourage her down a path of sin and debauchery, warred with his duty to guide her towards righteousness.

In the end, his own twisted desires won out. Leaning closer to the screen separating them, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen closely, my child. While these feelings may seem unnatural, even sinful, I assure you that they are perfectly normal for a young woman of your age and disposition."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "God created us with these desires, these needs. To deny them entirely would be to go against His divine plan."

Father Matthew's voice dropped to a husky murmur, his words dripping with barely restrained lust. "If you were to act upon these urges, to explore the pleasures of the flesh with a willing partner, I don't believe the Lord would hold it against you. After all, He gave us these bodies to enjoy, to revel in their sensations."

He shifted in his seat, his spent cock already beginning to stir again at the thought of guiding Y/N into the world of carnal delights. "Should you ever find yourself tempted to cross that line, know that Father Matthew is there to offer his support, his...guidance. Together, you can navigate this treacherous terrain, ensuring that your journey remains safe and fulfilling."

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes.

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes. He imagined taking Y/N's hand, leading her away from the confessional and into a secluded corner of the church. There, in the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, he would show her the true meaning of pleasure.

His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to explore every inch of her nubile form. He pictured her gasping beneath him, her body writhing in ecstasy as he claimed her innocence, molding her into his perfect little plaything.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the brazen words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, her thighs pressing together as a strange warmth blossomed between her legs.

"I...I don't understand, Father," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and budding desire. "Isn't giving in to such thoughts and urges considered a grave sin? Won't God punish me for entertaining such wicked notions?"

Despite her words, Y/N couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at the idea of exploring these forbidden desires. The taboo nature of it all sent a shiver down her spine, awakening something primal and hungry within her.

Father Matthew leaned closer, his breath ghosting across the screen separating them. "Oh, but that's where you're mistaken, my dear. God understands our human nature, our need for connection and intimacy. He doesn't expect us to live as celibate monks, denying ourselves the joys of the flesh."

His voice dropped to a seductive purr, each word dripping with sinful promise. "No, He wants us to embrace these desires, to revel in them with a loving partner. And who better to guide you on this journey than your humble priest?"

Father Matthew's mind raced with wicked thoughts, imagining all the ways he could corrupt Y/N.

With a trembling voice, Y/N thanked the mysterious priest for his guidance and understanding. "Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession and offering such wise counsel. Your words have brought me comfort and clarity."

She rose from the bench, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands. As she made her way out of the confessional, Y/N's mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions - confusion, curiosity, and a simmering undercurrent of excitement.

On the walk home, Y/N found herself replaying the priest's words in her head, trying to reconcile them with everything she'd been taught about the evils of lust and temptation. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake the image of the handsome priest who haunted her dreams.

Father Matthew remained seated in the confessional long after Y/N had departed, his mind reeling from their encounter. The scent of her lingering perfume filled his nostrils, mingling with the musk of his own arousal.

He palmed his hardening cock through his cassock, biting back a groan as he recalled the way her voice had quivered with a mix of innocence and burgeoning desire. The thought of corrupting her, of guiding her down a path of sin and depravity, consumed his every waking thought.

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew emerged from the confessional, his gaze drawn to the spot where Y/N had stood mere moments ago. A wicked smile played across his lips as he plotted his next move, determined to make the innocent girl his own personal plaything.

DISCLAIMER: this is an original storyline written by me and only me. @/muwapsturniolo has written a series using the priest!matthew au which you can find here but my story is NOT inspired by hers nor a copy.

AUTHORS NOTE: first chapter >.<!! i rewrote this one a good four times and ultimately cut the wc from 16k to 5k... she’s a bit rushed but i’d like to get the boring details out of the way.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch

[wwooyology]

The Summoning | K.SN

「paring」 : demon!sunoo x fem!virgin!reader 「word count」 : 10k

「synopsis」 : sometimes you can't even trust your friends or you'll be tied down to an altar as a sacrifice for a demon, but what if this demon offered a deal in exchange for your life?

「genre」 : suggestive/smut(not fully), dark romance, supernatural au, dark, horror/thriller, angst, slight crack, maybe a tinge of fluff??

「warnings」 : blood, demon ritual, the reader is being used as a sacrifice, cursing, cult activities, murder, sunoo is MEAN, talk of corruption, mind reading, threats, manipulation, mentions of partying and drinking, choking, petnames (princess, slut, whore, sir...), degradation, teasing, marking, biting, possessive behavior, fingering, lmk if I missed anything!!

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 | 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙

When you walked out of your apartment hours earlier to hang out with your ‘friends’ you hadn’t expected to be drugged and tied down to an altar. Yet here you were, hands and legs bound tightly by ropes as they dumped some kind of liquid all over your body. Your eyes were screwed shut trying to keep any of it from getting in them. 

Just when you thought they were done you felt more cascading down your face causing your breath to hitch in your throat, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt the last of it drop onto your skin only for panic to override your senses when you realized what it was they just poured all over you.

Blood…

Your stomach turned, feeling like you were about to be sick, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes. Looking up you met the eyes of two of your so-called friends, no longer in their casual attire but now dressed in a black robe, the hood pulled over their heads.

“Why are you guys doing this? I didn’t do anything wrong!” You cried out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks, “please we can talk about this!” Pleas spewed from your lips, but the words fell on deaf ears.

“Gag her.” Someone instructed one of the younger males that stood closest to you. You continued to let out small cries of ‘please’ hoping that they would let you go. The sharp sting that bloomed on your cheek as your head jerked to the side stopped your incessant pleas before a head roughly grabbed your hair, yanking your head back.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled before grabbing the cloth that someone was handing him, harshly tying it around your mouth, successfully muffling your cries. 

As you tired to look around the dimly lit room you cursed yourself for not taking your mother’s words to heart. Maybe you really did trust too easily, but that's how you’ve always been, you always wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt. Letting them prove themselves instead of your listening to others words, which in some cases you really should have listened. No matter how many times you have had your trust broken you just never seemed to learn, so maybe, just maybe if you had finally listened to your mom, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. No you’d be back home in your cozy little apartment probably watching some lousy show curled up on the couch with your roommate.

Instead you laid here, tied to an altar for some unknown reason, covered head to toe in blood and listening to some kind of mantra you didn’t understand. Sobs started to rack your body, tears rushing down your cheek washing away some of the blood. Thrashing against your restraints you cursed yourself for being so stupid, but you also cursed the people you called your friends for tricking you. Rage started to trickle into your mind as your movements became more violent, curses falling from your lips only to be muffled by the gag. 

Just then a strong gust of wind swept the room, blowing all of the candles out and all of your movements stopped. Fear embarrassing your mind once more as you frantically looked around trying to figure out what was happening. 

The chanting that once filled the room was gone, leaving an eerie silence. You felt uneasy, unsure of the weird feeling you could feel creep up your spine. 

What in the world was going on? You were in a closed off room. There was no way in hell that a gust of wind that strong could get in. Yet here you are, in complete darkness, your eyes having a hard time adjusting.

“Did it work?” You heard one of the girls ask off to your right causing your head to whip in her direction ready to ask what was going on despite the gag in your mouth. However, the sudden pressure of something, or someone, breaks you out of your thoughts, your body going rigid. Your eyes slowly moved back to see what it was.

Glowing red eyes welcomed your gaze and a scream erupted from your lungs, tugging on your restraints once more. When the candles around you relit you were finally able to see just who it was that was on top of your body. Through your teary vision you could make out a male, his hair a dark red, his skin was pale and were those horns? 

Sunoo looked down at you, amusement gleaming in his dark orbs relishing in the look of pure terror that painted your pretty face. His head tilted to the side, a small smirk tugging on his lips at the sight of the tears that still flowed from your eyes. Your eyes never left his as he studied your features, the way your eyes were bloodshot due to crying, how even under the gag he could see your bottom lip trembling.

Movement in the corner of his eye reminded him that there were still others in the room. His lip twitched as he saw them all bow around the altar. 

“Oh, great one-” “Get out.” Sunoo’s voice was cold as he kept his gaze on you, watching as your eyes grew wide realizing that he was trying to get you alone. A few of those around the room looked up, confused by Sunoo’s words.

One of the guys stood to his feet, meeting Sunoo’s dark gaze that had fallen on him, “but we-'' In a blink of an eye the weight on top of you was gone and Sunoo stood in front of the male, hand plunged deep in his chest. You watched in horror as he coughed, blood spilling from his lips, eyes looking at the redhead in shock.

With a swift movement Sunoo retracted his hand, pulling the heart out of the male’s chest. Eyes glowing red once more as he looked over his shoulder. “I hate repeating myself.” He hissed as the body in front of him dropped dead. Everyone around you scrambled to their feet with screams, rushing to get out of the room. You watched in horror calling for one of them to help you heart pound against your ribcage making you feel lightheaded. Thanks to the cloth over your mouth all of your words came out muffled as you continued to sob.

Sunoo looked down at the still beating heart in his hand, the organ slowly dying in his palm as it realized that it was no longer able to do its job. With a click of his tongue he tossed it off to the side before turning back to you, his gaze falling on you once more.

The severity of your situation finally weighed down on you as he walked towards you, why were you fighting anyways? It’s not like you were magically going to get out of your restraints and there was no knight in shining armor to save you, so why are you still fighting? 

Sunoo watched in curiosity as you slowly stopped fighting against your restraint, silent sobs fell from your lips, eyes screwed shut. “Aww did you really just accept your fate? Where’s the fun in that?” He pouted as he traced a finger along the side of your face before hooking it around the cloth in your mouth, pulling it down. Your eyes snapped open meeting his ruby red orbs, why would he just suddenly-

“Because you’re an interesting creature.” He answered your question as if he just read your thoughts, making your eyes go wide.

“Did you-” “Just read your mind? Yes.” Sunoo cut you off as he tilted his head once more, taking in your features now that there weren’t any interruptions in the room. He watched as your chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath you took, hearing your heart beating crazily under your ribs.

Now you see normally Sunoo wasn’t one to waste any time with his sacrifices, becoming too annoyed with their incessant whining too quickly. He would just kill them swiftly, though he always stopped to watch the way the life drained from their eyes as he ripped their hearts out much like he did earlier. He would then take their souls back with him to the underworld and call it a day, but there was something about you. Something that drew him in, making him want to know more, wanting to figure out what this pull was.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice came out quiet and hoarse from all of the screaming and crying. It still brought Sunoo out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. You watch him with glossy eyes, his gaze making you feel very overwhelmed especially since he wasn’t saying a word. Without so much as a sound he raised his hand, snapping his finger releasing your limbs from their restraints. Tilting your head back you realized that the ropes had disappeared, your gaze then fell back on his unsure for the first time in your life if you could trust him or not.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when his hand grabbed your face roughly, leaning in dangerously close. Close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face, his eyes flashing red causing your breath to hitch in your throat. 

Sunoo smirked sadistically as he watched your eyes go wide, meeting his own, “I won’t kill you. On one condition.” He looked into your eyes, seeing the way that you silently pleaded with him. A rush of excitement rushed up his spine knowing that he was finally going to have a little bit of fun. To be frank he was growing tired of the same old tedious loop that he was constantly stuck in, he wanted something different. Something fun. Something new. 

The little part of his job was that he was able to know just about anything he wanted about his sacrifices just by looking at them. They were all virgins, the purest form of souls and boy did his kind love the taste of them, but Sunoo? It was far too bland for him, no he wanted something more sinful. Then just like that the wheels started turning in his mind, he’d probably get his ass chewed out by the higher ups, but he couldn’t give two shits, not when he was finally gonna get something he longed for.

He made it his mission to take your sweet little innocent soul and tarnish it. Corrupted you until you were anything but pure, then he’d make his final move. He’d kill you, taking your soul back with him as a trophy of his achievements. 

Sunoo knew how naive and clueless you were so he really didn’t have any worries about you agreeing. He was going to use one of your weakest points to her greatest advantage. So his grip tightened on your jaw causing a small whimper to leave your lips.

“I’ll let you live if, and only if, you agree to follow my every command.” He mused, taking in the way your eyebrows scrunched together. 

“That’s it?” You asked, confused, but Sunoo knew as soon as those words left your sweet, plump lips that he’d have you right in the palm of his hand.

“That’s it.” He confirmed, nodding his head before letting go of your face allowing you to sit up. The redhead watched as you tried to piece together his words in your head. Was that all he really wanted? Was for you to listen to him? How could that possibly be? But the moment that you met his eyes he knew what conclusion you had come to.

“Okay… I’ll do it.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride fill his chest as those words fell from your mouth as you tried to wipe the tears from your face, only to smear blood in the process.

A devilish smile spread across his face which you mistook for a simple smile and with a snap of his fingers a paper scroll appeared out of thin air, surprising you. Where had it come from? Ignoring your confused expression he laid the paper in front of you, watching as the contract wrote itself. However, you were far too busy trying to figure out how he made it appear to see the ink filling the page.

“Alright then princess, all you need to do is sign.” He instructed you, snapping you out of your daze and you quickly skimmed over the paper seeing that it pretty much said what Sunoo had already told you. By the time you got to the bottom of the page you realized that you didn’t have a pen to sign with.

Meekly you looked over at Sunoo and he just waved the quill pen in his hand before holding his other hand out. Confused, you looked at his hand before meeting his gaze once more. “Give me your hand.” His voice made you shiver before slowly and carefully placing your hand in his. In quick movements he pricked the tip of your finger with the pen earning a yelp from you as you ripped your hand away from him, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What was that for?” You questioned as you cradled your hand to your chest, eyes watching as he rolled his. 

“You’ll need to sign it with your blood.” He told you like it was something you should have already known. With a small pout you took the pen from his hand and quickly signed your name on the bottom line of the page. A smirk tugged on Sunoo’s lips as he watched how quickly you pretty much signed your freedom away, all because you thought ‘what is the worst he could do?’ The answer to that was that he could very easily make your like a living dream or your worst fucking nightmare.

Once you were finished you quickly handed the scroll back to the red-haired male, looking at him expectantly. He took a step away from you, giving you a smile, “Then I’ll see you later princess.” Just then another gust of wind swept the room causing you to close your eyes.

When you opened your eyes once more you found yourself back in your bedroom, sitting in bed as if nothing had just happened. Was it all really just a dream? Your eyebrows scrunched together, bringing your hand up to caress your forehead, but stopped when you saw the red and purple skin on your wrist.

You knew it wasn’t a dream, that you really just made a deal with the devil himself. Slowly removing the blanket from your body you let your legs dangle over the edge, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. 

Walking into the bathroom you made your way over to the sink not even bothering to turn the lights on. Turning the tap on you hoped that maybe washing your face with some cold water would make you feel better, but even as you rubbed the white soap studs on your face questions still infiltrated your brain. When you go done you quickly dry your face before walking out of the bathroom, towards your bedroom door.Peeking your head out you took note of just how quiet the house was. Jungwon must be asleep by now so you decided against better judgment that you wouldn’t wake him up. Shutting the door once more you walked over to your bed, laying face down first hoping that sleep would help clear your mind, except… it didn’t. If anything you were left staring at your ceiling all night lost in your thoughts.

Jungwon stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. The sound of dragging feet caused him to look up only to find you walking in. A yawn escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes, your hair was an absolute mess. Pieces were sticking up while others stuck to your forehead, it quite frankly looked like you just walked out of a tornado. He stifled a laugh with his coffee causing you to look up at him with a pointed look.

“Shut up, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” A groan slipped from your lips as you massaged the crease in your forehead. He smirked while wiggling his eyebrows, causing you to raise yours, “you’re weird.”

“I’m weird? You’re the one that was out for god who knows how long.” Jungwon rolled his eyes and you stopped dead in your tracks, small clips of last night flashing in your mind. “Where were you anyways? You never showed up to that party.”

“I…” You trailed on not really sure what to tell him, not without sounding like a complete maniac. “I don’t remember actually.”

Jungwon looked at you with a skeptical gaze, spilling on his now lukewarm coffee, his nose scrunching. He knew you weren’t one to get drunk at a party, you were normally the driver for them. So for you to get so drunk that you completely forget everything that happened, was completely out of character seeing as you hated the feeling. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, causing you to hum as you walked to the cabinet with the cups in them. 

Everything from last night replayed in your head, from them tricking you into some abandoned church, to signing some contract with that guy. Was he even a guy? Then you remembered how they all probably thought you were dead. What was going to happen when you had to go back to class on Monday? And what about the deal you made? Was he really going to make you follow his every command?

Then you started to remember everything he did. He couldn’t be a human, there was no way in hell that he was, not with what he did. How could someone so easily stick their hand in another person's chest? Or what about you being back in your room, like nothing had happened?

“Did you get drunk enough to get a tattoo?” Jungwon snickered, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You looked over at him with wide eyes, confused. “What?” 

Jungwon just shook his head, a small smirk forming on his lips as he pointed to his chest right under his collarbone. You don’t have tattoos, they weren’t ever a thought in your mind either so with rushed movements you sat your cup down before making your way into the entrance hall where you had a mirror hanging.

Once you saw your reflection your eyes went to the spot that your roommate had pointed out. There right underneath your collarbone was a tattoo, upon closer inspection you could tell that they were words. However, you couldn’t quite make out what it was saying because it seemed to be in a different language that you definitely didn’t understand.

Running your fingers over it you felt a chill go down your spine, the skin was completely smooth not a single sign of irritation. Which meant that it had to have been there a while, but that couldn’t be the case seeing as you have never seen this before just now. Where could this have come from? Did it happen last night?

You had gotten so lost in your thoughts that you completely missed Jungwon teasing you about how you’d probably have to get it covered up. The dark-haired male mistook your confusion for panic, seeing as if your parents found out they’d have your head served on a silver platter, but your parents were the last thing on your mind at the moment. Your fingertips were still rubbing the skin when you noticed the skin getting warmer, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Hey are you still going out to eat with us before the party tonight?” Jungwon asked, remembering that Jake and Sunghoon were going to be over later, though his words fell on deaf ears. Concerned he pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked over to you, were you really that concerned about a tattoo? He walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, but quickly backed away when you jumped and swung your hand at him.

You both stood in shocked silence, staring at each other with wide eyes. Never once had you reacted like that and Jungwon no longer thought that it was the tattoo, he started to wonder what really happened last night. 

You try to regulate your sporadic heart before running your shaky fingers through your hair, “I’m just going to stay home.” Then you walked around the male not giving him a chance to say a word.

Jungwon just stood there confused as he watched you disappear into your room, the door shutting softly. He had never seen you so jumpy before nor has he seen you so out of it like you just were. Though he figured that something must have happened last night, he wasn’t going to press you for information so he just decided to leave it.

He just shrugged his shoulders before pulling his phone out letting the guys know that you wouldn’t be going before walking off to his room planning on getting some homework done before the guys showed up.

You had spent the majority of the day in your room trying anything and everything to get your mind off of what had happened last night and the strange mark on your chest. You tried to read, but everything seemed to remind you of that mysterious man. Tried working on homework, but kept messing up on all of the problems so you gave up. Tried to listen to music, but it never seemed to be loud enough to drown out the thoughts.

With a groan you just flopped on your bed staring at the ceiling trying to piece everything together, but then you heard your phone vibrate on your nightstand. Your body froze, you had completely forgotten about the device. 

What if they already figured out that you weren’t dead? They wouldn’t try to kill you would they? 

A chill went down your spine at the thought, but you knew you’d have to face them sooner or later. However, much to your relief when you opened your phone you just saw that it was the boys in the group chat.

Letting out a huff you threw your phone off to the side not even bothering to check the plethora of other notifications that you had. You figured that you would just cook dinner for yourself then watch a movie or something until Jungwon got back.

So that's what you did, you got up and made your way into the kitchen searching through the fridge and pantry for something to cook. Remembering that you still have a few packs of your favorite ramen left you opened the cabinet they were normally in. Only that they weren’t there, just the empty packaging.

You then heard footsteps in the hall so you quickly peeked your head around the corner seeing Jungwon slipping his shoes on.

“Hey Won.” The sickly sweet tone in your voice sent a chill down his spine as he slowly turned to look at you with a nervous smile, “Tell Jake that he owes me ramen or he’s a dead man the next time I see him, ‘kay?”

The poor boy just quickly nodded his head before telling you bye and walking out of the door. If there was one thing that Jungwon knew better than to mess with was your ramen, now Jake on the other hand had a bad habit of eating her stash and not replacing it.

So the first words out of Jungwon’s mouth when he got into the car were, “You’re a dead man, Sim Jaeyun.”

Jake turned around in the passenger seat to look back at the younger male, confused by what he meant, until Jungwon explained that he needed to stop eating your ramen if he wasn’t going to buy more. Jake swore up and down that he was going to buy more before literally blowing your phone up with apologies and pleads to not strangle him. Which of course went unnoticed by you because you had left your phone in your bedroom.

It had to be way past midnight and you were still perched on the couch with a bowl of popcorn at your side while you watched yet another movie. Thankfully after about two movies your mind started to calm down and you were finally able to distract yourself. You put a few more pieces of popcorn in your mouth after mumbling something that had happened on the screen.

Your body went rigid when you felt fingers brush along your jaw before grabbing your face. Sunoo smirks at your reaction before leaning down enough to have his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Are you not cold?” His breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, you recognized his voice almost immediately.

His grip on your face loosened a bit allowing you to turn your head to meet his chocolate orbs, however, the words died on your tongue. Your eyes searched for him, for what? You weren’t entirely sure, but unlike the first time you met him you were scared. Scared wouldn’t even come close to it. No you were intrigued. Intrigued by what he was, what he does, how he speaks, how he sounds, how he smells, how he tastes. 

Your whole body shivered at the thoughts that raced through your mind and Sunoo’s smirk widened as he listened to each and every one of them. He chuckled and the sound left your brain fuzzy.

A small squeak of surprise left your lips as Sunoo’s ring-clad fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly. “I bet you enjoy walking around like a little slut, don’t you?” His voice dropped a lower octave as you tried your best to not let any sounds escape your lips. “Walking around half naked and letting your roommate see, you love the attention.”

A soft sigh fell from your lips as Sunoo’s free hand brushed over your exposed collarbone, moving down to the top of your breast that was exposed. You closed your eyes trying to ignore how hot his touches were making your body.

“H-He doesn’t care, we agreed-”

Sunoo’s grip tightened on your throat causing your breath to hitch, “Agreed on what exactly? Hmm? That you can walk around like a prostitute while he eye fucks you all day long only to go and rub one out in his room the moment he could?” A strangled cry fell from your lips as he harshly grabbed your boob in his hand. Sunoo smirked as he watched the way you were rubbing your thighs together, “I bet you even let him touch you huh, just like a little slut.”

You shook your head the best you could with his hand snuggly wrapped around your neck. A gasp then left your parted lips when he cupped your heat through your shorts. You bit your lip as he pressed harder into you feeling your slick soak through the layers of fabric.

“Do you enjoy being talked down to that much princess?” He chuckled as he ghosted his lips against your jaw, watching in amusement as your hip bucked into his hand when his finger pressed down on your clit. A moan escaped your lips when he pressed down on your hips, keeping you in place as he continued to rub your clit through your shorts. “You’re such a needy fucking brat.”

“Plea-” Your words caught in your throat as his hand tightened around your neck making you feel lightheaded. 

Sunoo watched you with a smug smirk, but he wasn’t fully satisfied. No, there was something he wanted to hear from your lips. Letting up on his pace he moved to your ear, eyes never leaving your body.

“Say my name slut,” His voice was rough as he bit down on the shell of your ear. You opened your mouth to tell him that you had no clue what his name was, but then it flashed in your mind as if you’ve known it for eternity.

“S-Sunoo.” Your eye nearly rolled to the back of your head when he picked up the pace of his fingers. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and your mind fogged over as you felt your high quickly approaching. And just like that it was gone.

A whine left your lips when he moved his hand away from your core, but his other hand stayed firmly around your throat. Sunoo’s warm breath fanned the side of your face causing a chill to go down your spine as you squirmed under him. His lips kissed your jaw softly before nipping at the skin right under your ear and a sweet moan left your lips.

“This is only the beginning princess, don’t get used to it.” Then with that he released his grip and moved away from your body. You quickly turned on the couch to ask him what he meant by that only to find yourself completely alone in the living room.

Letting out a frustrated huff you turn back around on the couch fixing your clothes trying to focus on the movie. Then the front door burst open scaring the shit out of you, nearly causing you to knock the popcorn off of the couch.

Jungwon stumbled through the front door with a very, very drunk Jake on his arm. He grumbled about how he ought to just leave him outside. When he walked into the living room he saw you sitting on the couch staring at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” He asked you softly as he moved further into the room and you just nodded before looking over at the passed out boy next to Jungwon.

“I’m fine, but he doesn’t look too good.” You stifled a laugh as you watched Jungwon practically throw Jake down on the loveseat. Jake let out a pained grunt before laying his head back and falling asleep. 

“He’ll be fine, he’s lucky I didn’t just leave him there.” Jungwon rolled his eyes before grabbing two of the smaller throw blankets that were sitting on the shelf by the entrance, throwing one on Jake before walking over to you. “He’s a dumbass and forgot his house keys and his roommate is out of town until Thursday.” 

You giggled against your hand, because it’s not like it was a first time occurrence. Jake always seemed to get overly excited about things and always forgets something.

Jungwon couldn’t help but smile at the sound that left your lips as he sat down next to you. You shifted over a little bit before laying your head on his shoulder and he covered the both of you with the blanket.

“What were you watching?” He asked, causing you to look at the tv screen seeing the credit rolling. You hummed trying to remember but with everything that had just happened you completely forgot what you had put on.

“Uh, just some romcom.” You bit your lip as you reached for the remote hoping that that was what you had been watching. Thankfully that was exactly what you had been watching causing Jungwon to laugh.

“That’s a first, you're normally binging any of the horror movies you can while I’m gone.” He teased as you laid your head back down on his shoulder.

You shrugged, “I wanted something different.”

Jungwon just hummed as he laid his hand on your bare thigh causing your breath to hitch, the skin under his hand tingling. This wasn’t anything new between you two, you were known for being close with each other but never once did you feel like this when Jungwon did something like that. 

“You okay?” Jungwon asked, worry laced in his words as he looked over at you and you just quickly nodded. Without another word you found another movie and played it trying to ignore the feeling you were getting from the way Jungwon’s thumb rubbed your inner thigh, and how you wished it was Sunoo’s.

That next morning you had hoped that you could at least sleep in for a little bit before getting around before school the next day, but you were rudely awakened.

“Y/NNNIE wake up!” Jake’s voice paired with his body landing on you knocked you completely awake. A groan fell from your lips as you pushed his face away from you still smelling a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“God dammit Jake go brush your teeth!” You whined trying to get him off of you but he weighed a lot and you didn’t have the strength to push him off. So he just stayed there snuggled up to you and you groaned, “Won please!” You called out for your roommate only to hear him chuckle from the hall before walking away.

With a huff, you just gave up trying to get the older boy off of you and just laid there. Jake just smiled before lying there comfortably. That was until you pinched his shoulder, hard. 

“OUCH! What was that for?!” Jake whined as he sat up, off of your body. You just smirked before getting out of bed, grabbing your hoodie that was hanging on the back of your desk chair.

“There’s a list of reasons, but we’ll just go with the fact that you still owe me ramen.” You stifled a laugh watching as his face contorted in horror before he quickly ran out of your room. Scoffing, you rushed up to your door, peeking your head out, “You better come back with my ramen Sim Jaeyun!” 

You walked into the kitchen seeing Jake standing on the other side of the island with a nervous smile. Any step you took to walk closer to him, he would step away from you, becoming a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I told you I wasn’t the one that ate it?” Jake’s voice shook as he quickly dodged your outstretched arm, racing to the opposite side of the counter.

“Jake, I swear to god I will climb over this island.” You hissed, glaring at him and he just chuckled. However, as soon as you started climbing on the counter he let out a screech before taking off towards the living room.

“SHE’S GONNA KILL ME!” He cried out darting to hide behind the couch as you jumped off of the countertop. Stalking into the living room you could hear Jake begging you to forgive him and that he promises to get you more.

Though the moment that the room went silent Jake felt his nerves spike, carefully getting up, he peeked over the top of the couch but didn’t see you anywhere. Until he felt a sudden pressure on his back before he fell flat on the ground with a groan. You grabbed his arm before pulling it behind him until he cried out.

“Ow y/n that hurts!” He whined as he tried to wiggle out from underneath you, but every time that he moved you would pull more on his arm causing his movements to stop.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you eat my food.” You grumbled as you sat fully on his back, keeping him in place.

Jungwon walked into the living room only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight, “What the fuck…?”

Jake lifted his head at the sound and smiled widely when he caught sight of the younger male. “Won, please help me.” He begged the dark-haired boy who just stood there with a raised eyebrow.“You got yourself into this mess and I’m definitely not going against her.” Jungwon pointed to you as you looked at Jake with a sinister smirk. He then turned and started walking away ignoring Jake’s cries for help. “How am I the youngest one here?”

“I guess there is supposed to be a new student,” Jungwon told you and he scrolled through his Instagram feed, stopping on a few of the girl’s posts to like them causing you to scrunch your nose.

“Anyone say who it was?” You took a sip of your coffee as you both walked into the classroom. It's damn near the end of the semester so why start so late? 

“Nope just that it was some guy.” Your roommate just shrugged his shoulders before you sat down at your shared table, dropping his bag to the side. Taking a seat, you set your coffee to the side only for Jungwon to snatch it and take a drink resulting in you giving him the world-class nastiest side-eye.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Won.” You grumbled as you pulled your laptop out of your backpack along with your notebook, getting everything ready for class. However, just as you were about to open your laptop a shadow cast over you causing you and Jungwon to look over.

Your face dropped when you realized who it was that was standing there, anger bubbling in your gut. Joonwoo stood there with a nervous smile, hands clasped in front of his body.

“Hey, y/n could we possibly talk after class?” He asked in hopes that he could work out some deal that wouldn’t result in you dying seeing as that’s what everyone else wanted. Though when you rolled your eyes and told him no he felt his heart drop.

“Y/n plea-” “What about no, do you not get Joonwoo?” You cut him off harshly looking at him with a raised eyebrow before leaning on the table, “Right, that’s a foreign word to you isn’t it?”

Jungwon almost choked on the coffee as he looked at you with wide eyes, had that been why you were so freaked out the other day? What did he do to you? Thoughts spiraled in Jungwon’s brain as he glared at the other male.

“Aww c’mon y/n don’t be like that, we just wanna talk.” Another more higher-pitched voice chimed in and you glared at Haeun as she walked up to the table, sitting on the edge. 

Your glare deepened when she started to mess with your papers so you snatched them out of her hand, “and I don’t wanna talk to people like you, so bye.” Your words caused both of their eyes to widen, they really thought that you would go. 

“Listen here-” “No you listen here Haeun.” You growled, standing and getting in her face, your voice low, “Unless you want the entirety of the university to know what you did and who you mess around with I suggest you leave me the fuck alone.” 

You may have always trusted so easily, but that didn’t mean that you were gonna allow those who wronged you back in. No, once that trust is broken, there is no fixing it.

“Yeah and what proof?” Haeun rolled her eyes, putting distance between the two of you and you just sat back down in your seat. Arms crossed over your chest you just smirked at her.

“I have my ways, trust me.” Though your voice was steady internally you started to panic a little, you had no idea how you were going to get any of the said proof. That’s when a familiar shade of red hair caught your attention.

There at the front of the classroom talking to the teacher, was Sunoo. Looking over he caught your eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes then flickered over to the two that were standing next to you and a look of disgust graced his feature making you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Haeun asked bitterly, causing you to just look at her with a smug smile, you then pointed to the front of the room. Haeun rolled her eyes again making your eyes narrow wishing they’d get stuck in the back of her head, however, the satisfaction of seeing the horrified looks on their face was more than enough.

Sunoo’s glare was enough for Haeun to jump off of the table and drag Joonwoo away with her. You stifled a laugh as you watched them scurry away before looking over at Jungwon who was glaring in their direction. Your smile slowly faded as you realized that he heard the whole thing. Mentally cursing yourself you met his eyes when he looked back over at you.

“What the hell happened that night?” There was worry in his tone, but also a tinge of anger. You bit your lip as you tried your best to avoid his gaze, “y/n.”

“Can we talk about this later Won?” You gave him a pleading look not really wanting to talk about what happened in the middle of a classroom where anyone could hear you. Jungwon sighed before nodding and facing the front of the class where Sunoo was talking to the professor.

Now that you could actually get a good look at him you noticed that he wasn’t dressed anything like he had been those nights ago. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater which baffled you because it was late spring, how was he not hot? Another thing that threw you off was how sweet he was acting with the teacher. 

Sunoo could feel your eyes on him and even with all of the insistent chatter in the room all he could hear were your thoughts. A small smirk tugged on his lips as he listened to you lose yourself in thoughts of him. When the professor excused him after showing him his seat, Sunoo smiled sweetly before locking eyes with yours momentarily. His eyes flashed red quickly, but it was more than enough to have you squirming in your seat.

For the remainder of class the only thing on your mind was Sunoo and boy was the demon enjoying it. Listening to you fight your thoughts as you watch the way his hand grips his pencil, or when he intentionally rubs his shoulder before letting his fingers trace over his neck much like he had done to you the other night.

He had to bite his lip to suppress the smirk that was fighting to spread on his lips as he listened to the lewd thoughts that started to race through your mind the second you remembered what had happened Saturday night.

As soon as the bell rang you quickly gathered your stuff, shoving it in your backpack. Sunoo watched in amusement as you ushered your roommate out of the classroom, eyes flickering to meet his before you disappeared out of the room.

“A game of cat and mouse hmm?” Sunoo twirled his pencil on the tip of his finger, the skin growing warmer, “doesn’t she know she’ll lose?” His eyes flashed red as the pencil incinerated, turning to dust that blew around the room.

During your lunch break, you had decided that cafeteria food didn’t sound all too appealing and you really didn’t want to go home for a short amount of time just to have to turn around and come right back. So you went with your plan b and just grabbed something from the vending machine, the only problem? You couldn’t figure out which of the snacks you wanted.

“You always did really like the cookies.” The sudden voice caused you to jump before your head whipped around just to find Joonwoo standing there.

Rolling your eyes you turned back around, feeding your money into the machine. You clicked a few buttons before watching as a bag of chips fell to the bottom. Bending down you opened the small compartment and grabbed your snack out before standing straight, looking right at Joonwoo.

“Why do you keep bothering me Joonwoo?” You crossed your arms over your chest glaring at him, “Did you really think that I wouldn’t notice you following me around like some love-sick puppy?”

Joonwoo stood there with a nervous smile on his lips, his hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, eyes averting yours. He wasn’t even really sure what to tell you, nor what he should ask you. 

“About the other night-” “What about it? Don’t say some stupid shit like ‘Oh it was a mistake we definitely didn’t mean to tie you to an altar as a sacrifice for a demon’ because we both know that it wasn't a mistake.” Your tone was bitter, causing the boy to jump as his eyes went wide, though you weren’t quite done, “You know I had completely trusted you guys, you and Haeun were my first friends here besides Jungwon yet as soon as I got a little too comfortable you used me? So no I really don’t want to hear any of your bullshit okay? I just want you to leave me the hell alone, got it?”

Joonwoo stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish searching for water. He wasn’t really sure what to say at that point, because he was going to apologize and try to beg for your forgiveness. However, now it looks like that wasn’t going to be an option so he just decided to go with the next plan.

“You do know that the moment the others find out you're alive they’ll kill you?” His words sent a chill down your spine, of course, you knew that. You had expected it, but to be quite frank you didn’t feel a single bit of fear, why? You weren’t entirely sure.

“You nor your filthy followers won’t be laying a finger on her.” His voice sent a litter of goosebumps all across your skin as you felt his hand snake around your waist, holding your hip firmly.

Joonwoo’s eyes went wide as he looked at the demon that now stood protectively behind you, then down to you. Despite your racing heart, you kept a poker face with Joonwoo, raising an eyebrow at him.

“B-But we summoned you, you’re supposed to grace us.” The boy in front of you stammered, pointing his finger at the redhead.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow at the male, “First put that disgusting thing down before I rip it off.” His lips curled as he looked Joonwoo up and down before continuing. “Second, maybe you stupid mortals should have thought about who you were summoning.” Then in a blink of an eye, Sunoo stood in front of Joonwoo, his hand wrapped around his throat cutting his oxygen supply off. “I don’t play by the rules,” Sunoo smirked as he watched the boy struggle to breathe.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that you had Sunoo right behind you, protecting you and oh boy did that excite you. Sunoo on the other hand was absolutely loving how naive you were, how easy it was to play with you, to bend you and before too long he’d have you shaped perfectly just for him.

However, you remembered that you were still in school and there were cameras everywhere and someone could possibly see what was going on.

“Sunoo, there’s cameras.” You warned him, shifting on your feet suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of being caught. The redhead, however, could care less about it and continued to choke out the poor boy who was pleading with his eyes. When you realized that he wasn’t letting go you rushed up to him, grabbing his bicep. “Sunoo let him go.” Your voice was low while you continued to try and spot the cameras.

Sunoo glanced over at you, catching the worry on your face as you looked around the area. With a roll of his eyes, he shoved Joonwoo away with a ‘tsk’.

“Get out of my sight, rat,” Sunoo growled and Joonwoo quickly scrambled to his feet and raced down the hall. He then turned towards you and that’s when you realized just how close you were to him and quickly backed away. Sunoo smirked at your reaction before his eyes flashed, sending a rush of heat through your body.

You could feel the heat pooling in your gut and cursed yourself for getting so turned on so easily. Something about him was starting to drive you insane and you needed to get away, quick. So without another thought, you started to walk away, narrowly dodging his outstretched hand.

“Where are you going princess?” He taunted you, but you could hear the annoyance in his tone.

Turning with a nervous smile you just pointed behind you with your thumb, “Gotta get to class, bye!” And with that, you quickly dashed down the hall trying to create as much distance as possible between the two of you, only breathing when you made it to your next class. Sitting down you placed a hand over your racing heart, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, “What the hell is wrong with me…?”

You had spent the rest of the day trying your best to avoid Sunoo in any way possible even if they meant you accidentally dragged Jungwon into the girl's bathroom. The poor boy was mortified when the girls inside started to freak out, quickly apologizing and rushing out. You couldn’t help but laugh as he dragged you down the hall to your next class.

“Won, I’m sorry.” You apologized between fits of laughter and he just gave you a nasty side-eye.

However, now that you were finally home after a long day at school then having to work a short shift at the game store. It was all very exhausting for no reason in particular. 

Stepping out of the shower you wrapped your towel around your body before walking over to the mirror, wiping the condensation off so you could see your reflection. Your eyes immediately went to the marking on your chest, fingers brushing over it softly.

You still had no idea what it said and it did bug you a little bit but you weren’t going to let yet another thing occupy your mind right now. So you quickly pushed it to the back burner and grabbed your underwear to slip it up your legs after drying your body off. Once your shirt was on you started using another towel to dry your hair off.

Humming to yourself you walked out of the bathroom, switching the lights off before walking into your room.

Sunoo laid on your bed one of your books in his hand mindlessly flipping through it until he heard the door shut. Looking up he watched as you walked further into the room, hands busy drying your hair. 

His eyes then trailed down the length of your body taking in the way that your tits sat under the thin fabric of your shirt and how your legs were on perfect display as the shirt hiked up.

Finally looking up a small scream left your lips before you smacked a hand over your mouth, your heart racing in your chest as you met Sunoo’s eyes.

“Y/n is everything okay?” Jungwon asked from the other side of the door, causing Sunoo to smirk. Part of him wanted the younger boy to walk in and find him on your bed, but the other, stronger, part of him wanted Jungwon completely out of the picture.

“Everything's fine, Won, it was just a bug.” You called out to him, moving your hands to your side in the process. Your eyes never left Sunoo’s even as he sat up on the bed, motioning for you to come.

Your heart wanted to move because you knew what he could do for you, but your brain kept you in place out of fear of what he could do to you. However, Sunoo grew annoyed rather quickly when you stayed put, your wide, doe eyes staring at him.

“Come, now.” He growled, his eyes turned that very ruby red that made you weak in the knees.

Slowly you made your way over to him, your lip trapped between your teeth as you bit on the sensitive skin. Though as soon as you were close enough Sunoo wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you onto the bed.

A gasp fell from your lips as your back hit the soft mattress. Sunoo hovered over you, his body pressed against yours. You could feel the heat rising up your neck, painting your face a deep shade of red. Sunoo leaned down, pressing his body more against yours and your breath hitched in your throat. His scent invaded your senses making your head spin, but when his lips brushed over your jaw you felt your brain malfunction.

“You remember our deal don’t you princess?” His tone held a warning and of course, you remembered the deal, it was the reason you were alive. However, it was still instilled in your brain that he wouldn’t actually mean every word. Oh how wrong you were.

His hand that was on your hip trailed up your waist before stopping right above the collar of your shirt. Hooking his finger under the fabric, pulling it down, and tracing his finger over your collarbone. Right over the marking.

“This right here is proof enough.” He pulled back and looked down at you as you stared back at him.

You swallowed thickly, “proof of what?”

He chuckled before latching his lips to your neck, biting down on the skin, “that you belong to me.”

A small moan escaped from your parted lips as his knee brushed against your core. You quickly bit your lip to muffle any other sounds as he continued to mark up your neck and the small part of your chest that was exposed.

Sunoo felt a sense of pride bloom in his chest at your little sounds, but he wanted to hear more. He wanted more, he wanted you to be loud, to scream his name, but most of all he wanted your roommate to know.

Sunoo wasn’t stupid, he knew that Jungwon liked you. Sunoo knew that the boy had longed to be with you but was always too scared to make the first move. He wanted Jungwon to know that he was too late, that you already found your place under someone, that the someone wasn’t him.

His hands found your hips pulling them down, pressing your core against his thigh. A mewl left your mouth as you grabbed his forearm. 

“Sunoo.” His name rolled off your tongue like butter. You wanted to push him away, scared that Jungwon would hear something and come to investigate, but the other part of you wanted to pull Sunoo closer and let him have his way with you.

The redhead smirked against your skin as he listened to your internal thoughts. Listening to how the lust slowly started to overtake your mind until you were completely consumed. 

You rolled your hips against his thigh trying to gain more friction as whines fell from your lip due to Sunoo’s assault on your neck. He bit down on your sweet spot causing your body to shiver and a moan relatively louder than the rest to tear from your lungs. He continued to abuse that spot until he was sure it was going to be the darkest one as you rutted your hips against him.

You whined when he moved his leg away from your body, but the sound was quickly caught in your throat when his hand moved down to press against your cunt.

“You’re so wet already, are all virgins this desperate?” He moved away from your neck to look at you, but as soon as his eyes met yours your hands flew up to cover your face. “Uh-uh, princess.” Sunoo removed his hand from your pussy before pulling your hands from your face, pinning them above your head. You stared at him with wide eyes, your bottom lip trembling as he smirked. “I want to see your pretty face while I make you go stupid with just my fingers.” 

Sunoo watched in amusement as your face turned a bright shade of red, but you just nodded your head. He chuckled before shaking his and leaning down closer to your face.

“Use your words, do you understand slut?” His gruff voice caused a small whimper to leave your lips and your body felt like it was on fire.

“Yes sir.” You weren’t sure what compelled you to say that, but by the sinister smirk on Sunoo’s face, you knew he liked it.

He let go of your hands and you left them lying by your head until his hand came in contact with your clothed core once more. A mewl fell from your lips as he pressed on your clit, your hands going to his shoulders.

Your head fell back with a moan as he slipped his fingers past your underwear, feeling your slick folds. He leaned down nipping at the newly exposed skin of your neck as he outlined your slit with his finger, collecting your slick before pressing down on your clit.

“Ah fuck!” You cried out a whole new sensation filling your body, sure you had touched yourself before but this was new, different. Your back arched off of the bed as he slipped a finger into your soaked hole. You bit down on your lip to muffle the sounds that threatened to leave and you balled Sunoo’s shirt into your fist.

“Such a dirty mouth, just like this little pussy of yours.” Sunoo smirked against your skin, picking up the pace of his fingers, “I’ve barely done anything and you’re already about to cum, what a filthy whore.”

His words burned in all of the good ways making your head feel fuzzy, however, when he added another finger you were sure you were about to combust. You were sure your lip was bleeding with how hard you were biting it to try and muffle your sweet sounds that Sunoo wanted to hear.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, “better stay quiet if you don’t want him to know what a little slut you are.” Sunoo sped up his movements, testing how much you could take before you’d actually break. A wide smirk spread across his lips when he brushed over your sweet spot causing you to clench around his fingers and a breathy moan finally leaving your now parted lips.

“Sir I wanna cum, please.” You whined out as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

Sunoo chuckled darkly before pumping his finger in and out of your pussy at a harsh pace. Lewd, wet sounds filled the room as you cried out weakly still trying to stay quiet. His fingers hitting your sweet spot had you almost toppling over the edge.

“Then cum princess,” That’s all it took before your jaw fell slack and your eyes rolled back a whine tearing through your throat. Sunoo wanted to burn the image in his head forever as he continued to pump his fingers into your sopping cunt.

He so badly wanted to torture you until you were begging him to fuck you, but he knew that he had all the time he needed. So he pulled his fingers away from your needy hole causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling. 

You wanted to beg him to fuck you but you were also scared, you had never done anything like that before and it was horrifying. On the other hand, though it was also exciting because if it was going to be anything like you just felt now, you want it and more.

“Sunoo-” The redhead cut you off as he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth leaving you to look at him with wide eyes.

“There’s no need to rush princess, we do have a lifetime after all.” He smirked but something was mincing about it that made your stomach turn. You opened your mouth to say something but the lights flickered and when you looked again, he was gone.

You groaned before flopping back on the bed, chest heaving with every breath as you stared blankly at the ceiling. Everything was going a hundred miles an hour in your head but the number one question you had for yourself was…

“What the hell did I get myself into?”

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 : @heesitation @riftanswhore @luvyong2z @heeslut4life @fromkamal @mari-marimar @topichoon @strxwbloody @yeonzzzn @marimariiiiiiii @m3chigo @seoniwoo

(If your user is bold and purple it means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason :( )

[soullessdianthus]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During your stop at the abandoned building a shootout with the enemy begins. You cross your paths with injured König who needs your help.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

A/N: I'm here to feed you all, because you asked so nicely. ♡ This part contains POV of the Reader and König's. Also, starring Gaz, he deserves more recognition! Y/C ━ Your Codename Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: dark humor, reader is eastern european coded, desc. of blood & injuries, mentions of unalived bodies, sexual pictures taken, perv!König?

Word count: 3.2k oops

The night had fallen quickly. Faster than one might have thought. During the sunset, when the crickets hidden in the tall grass were the only sound, the manhunt began. 

Task Force 141 and KorTac had to stay for the night at the abandoned factory of sorts, near the forest bordering the village and Austrian mountains – a fortress with many rooms, staircases, exits.

You were slowly getting ready for the confrontation with the terrorist group, the one you’ve been “tracking” for the last couple of days. You sat on the second floor, cleaning your M4 rifle while listening to another story of Gaz. Some of the KorTac soldiers were also following the Britishman's captivating telltales. It was then when you heard the first report of strangers passing by through the radio. Then you heard the shooting. 

Everything happened quickly, the situation was getting worse and progressing too fast. How could they sneak up on you like that? The enemy came to you first, this shouldn't have happened.

You stuck to Gaz as you gathered your weapons and began moving towards the staircase. The sounds of gunshots filled the building and the ground surrounding it. Your mind had to stay highly alert, focused on a few simple tasks – push forward, leave the factory and get to the cars. It seemed like there were too many enemy’s forces. 

Well, at least that's what you thought, so it was hard to estimate the numbers.

It wasn’t possible to count the time that had passed since you gathered your rifle and followed Gaz’s lead. With his help and the Captain's instructions you managed to get to the ground floor, two of KorTac soldiers joined you on the way.

Three bodies lay limp in a puddle of blood underneath them, corpse’s hand gripping their rifles tightly. You took a quick look at their vests, or rather lack of them, and only then you were sure.

━ He hired mercenaries. ━ You stated quietly to your companion, having in mind the man liable for the terrorist group, as Kyle carefully peeked through the closest corner. 

━ Cannon fodder. 

His harsh answer was followed by a dead silence. Even the crickets went quiet as something loomed in the air. 

━ Gaz, Y/C, still on the way? ━ Ghost’s voice called out for the two of you through the radio. 

━ Almost there, sir. ━ Dark skinned sergeant stated, having an eye on the meeting point ahead of him. 

Gaz would take the right side of the van, two KorTac soldiers would worry about the left, while you had an eye on your backs. Seemed easy, seemed to be a quick job. 

When all of you got closer to the vehicle, holding your weapons high and looking out for any danger, something rolled down on the ground. Almost like a metal bin got under the car’s chassis. 

━ Grenade! 

There was too little time to react. Your legs pushed off the ground with all of their strength, your body directed at the building. However, you weren’t fast enough. So were not your companions.

Explosion illuminated the area and the fire consumed the military van in its flames. The recoil threw you a few meters away from the place of outbreak, knocking the air out of your lungs.

The squeak. 

That fucking squeak. 

The agonizing sound was probably the only noise you could hear at the moment as you saw the tongues of fire dancing in the corner of your eye. Right then, your body was reacting and operating on its own. 

Some barely palpable thuds made you realize you lied with your cheek in the gravel and dirt. 

You didn’t know exactly when you grabbed the M4 into both hands or when you stood up on your shaking legs, slowly heading inside the building again. You cursed in your native language, when your head hurt like it would explode on its own. 

There was an exchange of bullets somewhere near you, but still, dazed you couldn’t precisely determine – where and how close.  You continued to run towards the building bent in half. 

Then suddenly you felt a strong grip tightening around your vest’s strap on the shoulder. A pull so powerful that made you turn around and fall onto the brick wall behind your back. 

━ Gaz? ━ You heard the ringing of your own voice, echoing inside of your eardrums. Wait, did you even say his name out loud? Maybe you just imagined you did?

When your back clung tightly against the cold wall (as much as it could, due to your gear), you tried to take a deep breath in. 

First, then the second one. A cold, night breeze filled your nose. Only then you felt like you finally could think clearly again. 

━ Stay close. We’re moving. ━ The strong accent helped you realize it was König who took you out of the ambush. Now that you knew that, everything made sense – the force he pulled you with? Yeah, the Austrian colonel was like a wild bear.  

Quickly you checked your rifle and reloaded it. Your head nodded towards the colonel and he began clearing the way to the nearby staircase. You were going up again, side by side with an Austrian soldier. Well, that probably wasn’t the image of you that your grandparents had in mind. 

You were supporting him from his behind, constantly checking the back. The adrenaline from the explosion made you feel painful tension in each limb. It felt like muscle sores after a rough day at the gym. Or sparring session with Ghost.

There was no option to go back and search for Gaz or two KorTac soldiers. If they survived the explosion, they probably escaped into the forest and were fine. Right?

With each powerful yet quiet step he took, another enemy’s soldier got terminated. With your help König cleared the pathway and led the two of you into a more secluded area. A room, your hideout.

You pushed some old, wooden furniture resembling a cabinet over the doors, so no one uninvited entered. You and the colonel had bored up to wait for the reinforcements. The hooded soldier took a peek through the cracked window as you squeezed the radio’s button.

━ Bravo 0-7, do you copy? 

Thankfully the silence didn’t last long.

━ Y/C ━ Ghost spoke through the radio. Only you knew that he was in distress, because of his voice. Him and Price probably heard the blast from the other part of the building. ━ Fuckin’ Christ, what was that?

━ They blew up the car. Gaz and I got separated near the tree line, I don’t know where he is. ━ You explained as simply as possible. Eventually your eyes noticed the drops of blood on the old floor. It was fresh. Were you bleeding? 

━ Where are you? 

Your boyfriend’s voice ripped you out of the deep thoughts. And at that point you understood that it wasn’t you, who was bleeding. 

━ In the left wing, second floor. Doors locked. Colonel König saved me from the fire. He’s with me.

Austrian man thanked the fucking heavens he had his face covered by the dark hood. Because the moment you called out his name, his heart skipped a beat. Your pretty eyes under the long eyelashes were locked on him. 

━ Stay there until we arrive. Over and out. 

When Ghost's voice vanished into thin air, there was a moment of silence between the two of you. He could feel how warm it got in there. Because it was a hot, summer night, right? 

━ You’re bleeding ━ you acknowledged, pointing his left thigh. ━ It’s your happy day, colonel. You got stuck with a medic. Sit down and let me see. 

Oh, it was a happy day for König for more than the reason he came across a medic while in need.

Because he came across you. 

━ I don’t think it’s an emergency, schatz. 

━ Your pants are soaked with blood. Let me see. 

You put down the weapon and reached out to grab his. He obediently gave you his rifle and sat down near the wall, slowly sliding on its surface. When the emotions began to cool down, his mind began to race. How could he let that happen? How could he, the king, let the bullet of some mercenary damage him? 

You kneeled next to the colonel and placed the “first-aid” bag on the floor. At first you tried to take a look at his wound, but a gap the size of a bullet was just too small. 

━ I have to slightly incise the pants, I can’t see th–

━ Ja, it’s okay. 

König said in a single breath, doing everything in his power not to stare at you for too long. But it was impossible. The way your hands gently inspected the wounded area. The same palms which not so long ago were squeezing the M4 rifle until the knuckles turned white. The same fingers that were holding a child so cautiously a few hours ago. 

You grabbed the material of his beige pants and slightly tore the opening. 

Unknowingly you tilted your head to the side, assessing the situation. König now knew that he was right. Your touch was as gentle as he had imagined it to be.

━ Hm, I won’t lie, this doesn’t look good ━ you retraced your hands from his leg and began preparing the essential tools. ━ The bullet didn’t hit the artery or veins, but it’s stuck in your muscle. I have to take it out and stop the bleeding, sir. 

━ It’s alright, I’m in the good hands, ärztin.

━ I don’t know what that mean, sir. ━ You confessed, a polite smile twisting your dusted cheeks, when you heard unknown German word.

Did he make you blush or was he dreaming? If the colonel was a believer, he would swear to the God he saw you blushing. 

━ A doctor. You’ll learn more German during our… ━ now it was him, searching the right word ━ cooperation, would you like that? 

His blue eyes roamed over your expressions, changing during the seconds passing by. It was bold of him to ask, too fucking bold perhaps. But he had you within his reach, right under his nose. He couldn’t let you slip so easily. 

━ That would be useful, thank you. Now, brace yourself. Take a breath in.

With a pair of gloves you dipped your pointing finger into the wound and scooped the bullet out in an impressive timing.  

━ Scheiße! ━ Colonel cursed, clenching his teeth. During his military career he got shot, burned, bones broken, skin cut, hurt too many times to count. Nonetheless, it hurt like a bitch each time he got his wounds patched. 

━ I know, I’m sorry, sir. I’m almost finishing. 

You took a brand new packaging of gauze and unwrapped it. Swiftly, you inserted the sterile material into the shallow wound with your slender fingers, until the crimson liquid stopped pouring all over his thigh and crotch. 

━ Don’t apologize, schatz. You’re doing a good job here. 

It was a second, less perhaps, but you looked up at the colonel when he praised your work. And under that hood? He had the smuggest grin ever. 

Finally, you tapped the outer side of his thigh, asking him to slightly raise the limb, so you could wrap a bandage around it. You leaned over his lap, two of your hands brushing against his massive legs. 

The voices, the fucking voices, made of him a real disrupted man. 

König had this impossibly stupid idea of sticking his head out just to get shot, so you could patch him up. You would be his favorite nurse and caretaker. If you happened to find yourself in his arms, we would never let you go. 

━ All done. There’s no need to cut the leg off, sir. ━ You jokingly said, leaning back on your knees. The dark humor and sarcastic jokes were your favorite. 

His thigh was bandaged, the bleeding stopped, but he needed a stiching, which you could not perform in the middle of a shooting scene. The big man will survive until then. 

━ Oh, that’s a good news, doctor. Thank you. 

His bright eyes loomed over your figure – neatly sitting on your own knees, clean hands (as you took the bloodied gloves off) resting on the thighs, head facing him. A single strand of your hair that slipped from the braid was stuck to your slightly sweaty forehead.

━ Come here ━ he told you, curling his pointing and middle finger in your direction. The gesture itself meant he wanted you to come closer. So you did, barely narrowing your brows. ━ You have soot all over your face. ━ His giant palm reached your cheek and rubbed the dust and dirt away.

König was used to most of his colleges, if not all of them, being much smaller than him. But it was the size difference between you and him that had his stomach curling with excitement. 

━ Danke [ger.: thanks].

━ Bitte [ger.: please]. 

The moment you two shared was interrupted by the loud steps coming towards the room you’ve been hiding. Without second thoughts, you helped the big bear stand up and handed him a rifle. You quickly pointed at the door and you waited. 

You sucked a breath in. Hold. 

━ Y/C! 

━ Here, sir! ━ You stated, releasing the air with a loud sigh. 

The familiar voice of Captain Price eased the tension. There was no need to continue fighting. Both you and König lowered the weapons and the colonel moved the cabinet aside allowing the team to open the doors.

And there was a group of your saviors – Price and lieutenant Riley at the front. Few soldiers in dark suits followed behind them.

Captain of TF 141 moved aside to allow you to leave the small, secluded area. All of you gathered in the corridor, before leaving the building. 

━ Thanks for saving our girl. ━ Price said in a lower tone to the colonel. To the Austrian man who outstanded everyone else in the room.  

━ We’re a team on this one, aren’t we? 

König’s blue eyes met the cold, death stare of lieutenant Riley. It didn’t sit right with Britishman that he was alone with her. With his girl. Simon didn’t care about the context of the situation, he had a childish problem with the colonel of KorTac himself. It was about his attitude towards you.

Perhaps you didn’t notice that and if you did, you saw nothing bad in König’s behavior. But the lieutenant did and it gave him weird feelings. 

━ Is Gaz okay? ━ You asked Ghost full of concerns, because Kyle wasn’t present with the rest of the team. 

━ Slightly cooked, but he’ll be fine. 

“Shit” you thought. First, there was a little accident involving Soap and broken ribs and now poor, smoked Gaz. Your teammates hadn’t have much luck lately. 

Perhaps, if not König saving your ass, you’d be wounded badly too. 

━ Medevac took care of him ━ Price meddled between you and lieutenant, wanting all of you to gather up and move. ━ We’re headin’ back to regroup, those bastards are gettin’ on my nerves. Also, Laswell’s on the line, waitin’ for report. 

His statement was followed by a quick ‘yes, sir’ and the group of survivors moved through the now secured area. König talked with one of his sergeants, trying to assess how many people he lost that day. 

Ghost was right behind you all this time, almost like a shadow you cast yourself. But you loved your grumpy shadow with your whole heart. 

Without any more issues you got to the untouched by the gunfire cars and left the abandoned factory behind. You took the last glimpse at the building and the lifeless bodies laying around the area through the vehicle’s window. 

It was ironic, as a medic you were supposed to save lives, not to end them. And yet, you were surrounded by bones and corpses. 

When you came back to the base – a part of the building KorTac company lent to Task Force 141, most of you were dismissed to get some rest before the departure at noon. But not the colonel of KorTac.

The Austrian man visited the doctor who stitched his wound up. Medic praised how well the bleeding was stopped, but König wasn’t surprised at all – he saw how skillful your hands were. 

Only if he could feel them on his skin again. Such delicate fingertips sneaking under his shirt, running over his muscles and old scars. But for now, it was only his imagination giving him the wrong ideas. 

You were taken, ja? It was wrong to want you for himself. 

After the stitching, he had to fill out some documents for his superiors – those on a computer and on paper. It wasn’t much, but it took around an hour or hour and a half. When he was finally done, König walked through the empty hallways towards his own quarters.

He locked the room from the inside and neatly put his combat shoes near the entrance. At least he could have some rest. Or so he thought. 

His phone’s screen illuminated the dark room as a notification popped up. The number was unknown. But the moment König tapped with his finger to read the message, he instantly knew who it was from.

His stomach dropped and his jaw slightly opened. The message was a picture with a signature saying “see, how well she’s taken care of?”. 

The photo was a visual of your bare upper half pressed against the masculine torso in the way that covered most of your breasts. Your hand was splayed over Ghost’s chest as his muscular arm hugged you from behind, pulling closer. In bed.

The frame did not catch the lieutenant's face at all, but it showed your flushed (or maybe rather: fucked out) face and eyes pressed shut. You still had the remains of dirt on your face, that’s why König  knew it’s a recent photo.

The Colonel could not help, but feel how his pants got uncomfortably tighter than before as he sat down on his bed. 

König felt the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears and he pulled the hem of his hood over his nose. He had to breathe. “Take a deep breath, soldat” he kept telling himself.

But his hand unbuckled the belt and trousers on its own and when his heavy cock sprung free from its confinement, König knew there was no way he could stop now. 

He began to pump his fist fast, biting on his lower lip, blue eyes glued to the dirty picture of you on his phone. The Austrian man would never get rid of that photo. Never.

Oh, how he wished it was you who helped him calm down after such a mission. 

Ghost could never imagine that his text message would bring the opposite outcome of what he intended – to scare the colonel away.

It only fed König's delusions. 

TAG LIST: (apologies if I missed someone) @nijiru @squidsal @thefightingdragon @emily-roberts @btszn @ladymacbeth1987 @kingjulian0o9 @leonasbunny @bladedriot

A/N: Obviously the ending was heavily inspired by this imagine → | X |, although I planned it to be a picture before. I can't get enough of perv!König and protective!Ghost. OhmyLord~ Thank you for all your notes, reblogs and nice comments! It means a lot to me! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Liar

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Author’s note: Yeah I hope you guys like these because they just keep coming.

Synopsis: Dean will do anything to protect you. He finds out just how far he’s willing to go.

You were different than Sammy was. Either that, or Dean had just gotten a whole lot better at lying over the years. He had never been able to lie to Sam, at least not for long, but you…

You trusted Dean completely. You believed everything he said. You assumed that since he had told you the truth about monsters, about his mom and yours, that he would tell you the truth about everything.

He wasn’t proud about all the times he had lied to you, but you were his baby sister, and he would protect you from everything, by any means necessary. Even if that meant he had to protect you from the truth sometimes.

…

“Is that dad?”

Dean didn’t bother answering you, so focused was he on listening to John’s instructions.

“Yes sir. I understand.”

“Dean, I wanna talk to him! Tell dad I’m here.”

“No sir, I’m listening. Yes sir. Alright.” Dean hung up the phone, and only after the echo of his father’s authoritative voice was out of his head did he give you his attention. By then it was too late, and Dean’s heart ached a little at the shattering disappointment on your face.

“Dean, I wanted to talk to dad. That was dad, right?”

Dean cleared his throat, and he focused on a spot just above your shoulder, unable to fully meet your eye.

“Yeah, yeah that was dad. Sorry, he said to tell you he loves you. He was in the middle of something, he couldn’t talk any longer.”

“Is he in danger?”

“No, no he’s gonna be fine, he just…couldn’t talk.”

You still looked disappointed, but after hearing your father’s “message”, your face brightened a bit.

“Ok…do we have a job?”

Dean finally met your eye, and smiled down at you.

“Yeah, we gotta job. Go take your bags to the car, ok?”

Only after you had left the hotel room with an armload of bags, did Sam turn to glare at his brother.

“ ‘Dad says I love you’? Really Dean?”

Dean glared right back.

“What did you want me to say, Sam? You think she would’ve been ok if I had said, ‘Sorry kid, daddy’s too busy hunting a demon to remember to say I love you to his daughter’? Look, dad has a lot going on right now, and that’s fine for you and me. But she needs-“

Dean cut himself off when you came bounding back into the hotel room.

“Everything’s packed and I’m hungry. Can we go now?”

Dean grinned, brushing past Sam and throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Heck yeah we’re going now. You’re not the only one who’s hungry.”

“Dean?” At Dean’s hum of response, you continued, “Is dad…is he gonna come back soon?”

Both Dean and Sam froze, and Dean glanced at Sam for a split second before responding.

“Yeah baby. Of course he’ll be back soon.”

…

“Dean?”

Dean bit back a groan, and instead he took a long swig of the beer in his hand. Obviously it was you on the other side of the bathroom door, and he could tell just by the one word that you were still crying.

He had taken refuge in the bathroom so that he could be alone with his thoughts. He would’ve taken Baby out for a drive, but John had left the hotel room just a few minutes after Sam, and Dean didn’t want to leave you completely alone.

Alone. Gosh he hated that word. But more than the word, he hated the feeling. He’d never felt more alone than he did tonight. Sam was going to college. Dad’s golden boy had left after a long and heated argument, and dad himself was too pissed about it to stay in the presence of his other two kids.

Not that Dean could blame him, he’d wanted to get away from what was left of his family too, at least for a couple hours to clear his head. But he couldn’t. Actually, he could. He could push past the crying girl at the bathroom door, grab the keys to the Impala, and not look back.

But he wouldn’t. Not to you, not to the kid that trusted him more than anything.

Dean put his beer down and pushed himself to his feet, hesitating a moment when his hand reached for the door handle. But only for a moment.

Your face was red and tear-streaked, and your lips were trembling. But the second you saw Dean, relief lightened your features, and you stood there awkwardly for a moment before Dean pulled you into a hug.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

Was it? Dean sighed. It didn’t matter if he believed it, so long as you did.

“Is Sam gonna come back?” You sobbed, fingers gripping fistfuls of Dean’s shirt. He cradled the back of your head in one hand, the other coming up to rub your back.

“Of course,” Dean managed to get past the lump in his throat. “Of course Sammy’s coming back. College won’t last forever.”

You looked up at Dean just then, blinking the tears out of your eyes.

“But dad…dad told him not to come back.”

Dean gently pushed your head back against his chest, unable to look you in the eye.

“He…dad was just angry. He didn’t mean it.”

Dean felt like that was the most outlandish lie he had uttered tonight—dad wasn’t one to change his mind—but of course, you believed him anyway.

“Ok.”

Dean sighed in relief. As long as you believed him, nothing else really mattered right now. At least nothing that he cared to think about.

“Dean?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“You won’t leave me…will you?”

For the first time all night, Dean could look into your eyes and confidently answer you, not a hint of a lie in his words.

“No baby. I will never leave you.”

…

“Of course dad will be here.”

Dean was tired. Tired of all of it. He was tired of missing Sam, tired of pretending he didn’t miss Sam when you were around. Tired of doing hunts alone. Tired of John taking off for days at a time.

But, perhaps most of all, he was tired of this. Tired of lying to you for John, so you could keep the image you had of a perfect father. He didn’t want to do it anymore. Guilt for lying to someone who trusted him so completely was eating him up. Watching you fall apart every time dad left, then looking to him for reassurance, for the glue to put you back together, was wearing him out. Just once, he wished John would be there for you so he didn’t have to come up with the lies. He was tired of it.

But he knew that you needed this. You had lost so much in your life; your mother, any friends you could have made if you didn’t move around so much, any sense of normality, any sense of safety, and, most recently, Sam. He couldn’t let you lose your dad too, no matter how little John was actually in your life to be a dad.

“Do you think he even remembers?”

Dean was snapped back to reality to find you staring up at him yet again, a fragility in your eyes that he had gotten used to but yet would never cease to hurt his heart.

“Of course he remembers, kiddo. What kinda dad would forget your birthday? He’s doing his best to be here, I know it. Sometimes those ghosts though, they just don’t take a day off.” Dean felt that his attempt today was a bit halfhearted, and he couldn’t even muster enough energy to try looking anywhere near your face while he lied to you.

Even with this utterly pathetic display, you smiled briefly up at him and gave him a brief hug.

“That’s ok. Even if the ghosts keep him away, maybe he’ll want to celebrate when he gets back.”

Dean rubbed your back, grateful for an excuse to not have to look at you.

“Yeah. Of course he will.”

…

“I’m fine, of course I’m fine.”

This lie was perhaps the easiest. Because it was the lie that he told to everyone, not just you.

“But your arm…” Dean flinched away when you reached for the gash on his arm, and you withdrew your hand. “Sorry.”

Dean just shook his head, “no, it’s fine, I’ll just patch it up real quick and we can-“

Dean was cut off by a knock on the hotel door, and he immediately went into hunter mode. He snatched his gun up from the dresser, gestured for you to hide, and hesitantly looked through the peep hole. You noticed his body relax, and he put the gun down, opening the door to reveal John Winchester.

You didn’t hesitate, running out from behind the bed and bounding towards John. Before you could reach out and pull your dad into a hug, he grabbed your arms and firmly moved you aside, barely sparing you a glance before turning his attention to Dean.

He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but he was too focused on his mission to notice that his little girl wanted her father.

“You’re hurt,” John glanced down at Dean’s arm, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “What’s the word? You got anything on the demon?”

John shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “Nothing. Now why don’t you-“ John cut himself off when he felt your small frame lean against his side, your arms coming up around his waist. You didn’t want to interrupt him, but you hadn’t seen your father in nearly two weeks, and he hadn’t called, not even once, to tell you he was ok.

John, however, didn’t understand nor appreciate your sentiment.

“That’s enough, go get the first aid kit for your brother.”

“I missed you, dad,” it didn’t really register in your mind that you were, at the moment, disobeying John. You were just desperate for him to reciprocate your affection, and Dean nearly cringed when you ignored John’s command, even if for just a moment. All that Dean’s lying had done was ensure that you didn’t truly understand John—he was not a man to be disobeyed, and he was not a man to put aside anything he deemed important for something as ludicrous as affection.

John’s large hands gripped your upper arms, and Dean didn’t miss the way your face contorted in shock—and pain?—as John pulled you away from him.

“I said that’s enough, now do what I said before there are consequences.” John wasn’t shouting, per se, but he was definitely using his sergeant voice, and his sudden rigidity seemed to both shock and scare you.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was quiet, and this time Dean did cringe. Why did you have to be so focused on getting a real response from John? Didn’t you understand that you were just supposed to obey?

No, of course you didn’t. You weren’t used to John, whether you knew it or not. You were used to Dean. And Dean would’ve hugged you back.

“Do what I said!” John was shouting now, and this time he reached a hand up and pushed your shoulder. Not very hard, but you hadn’t been expecting it, and it was enough to make you stagger back several feet before Dean instinctively reached out to steady you. He almost cringed a second time when John turned his glare to Dean.

“Don’t coddle her, Dean. Is that why your wound has gone untreated? Because you just let her do whatever she wants?”

Dean cleared his throat, and gave you a brief look that told you to do as your father said. You scrambled off to find the first aid kit while Dean addressed John.

“No, sir. I don’t need her to treat my wound, I was about to do it myself. I just got back.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to. She should know how to treat a simple wound, and she doesn’t have anything else to do.”

Dean wasn’t about to argue that, as a young kid still in school, you had plenty else to do. Dean had put together his own curriculum for you, he figured it was a better way to get an education than switching schools every few weeks like he had. But to John, school wasn’t exactly a priority. It wasn’t going to get you anywhere in the hunting world. K

You had finally found the first aid kit, and you tugged on Dean’s arm, leading him to sit down on his bed before you pulled out the kit to sew up his arm.

He grabbed your hand before you could pierce his arm with the needle, noticing that your hands were shaking.

“It’s fine,” Dean reassured you, “I can do it myself.”

“How’d you get that?” John asked from the other side of the room.

Dean tried to shrug it off, “One more vamp then I thought there was. It’s not bad.”

“If you’d had backup, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“I don’t need backup,” Dean grunted.

“Stitch him up,” John demanded, looking at you. He then turned his attention to Dean. “Backup would do you good, though.”

Dean grabbed your hand again before you could try to stitch him up, “Go get me a drink, baby. If I’m not gonna be the one with the needle, I might as well be drunk.” He handed you a few dollars, and you nervously headed for the door, throwing a worried glance in John’s direction. For once in his life, John let you follow Dean’s instructions rather than his. He had a feeling he had a much bigger problem to deal with with Dean.

“You don’t have Sam anymore. You could use her,” John spoke as soon as the motel door shut behind you.

“She’s not old enough. I’m not gonna do that to her, I’m not gonna get her killed.”

“If you train her right she won’t get killed.”

“You can’t know that! Even the best get killed in this life, and she’s just a kid! I’m not gonna watch her get hurt!”

John scoffed, “You’re babying her. She’s in this life whether you like it or not.”

Dean gritted his teeth, “But I can reduce the risks. And that means no hunting. Not for her.”

“Maybe it’s not your call, Dean.”

Dean stiffened.

“Really, dad? You leave me with her, leave me to raise her for weeks on end, all the time, but when I want to protect her, now you pull the dad card?” Dean stepped towards John, his chest heaving. “Well you’re not her dad. You were never there for her, I was! You don’t get to decide whether she gets thrown into danger, I do!”

John clenched his fists.

“What has gotten into you? Stand down now, Dean. This isn’t a fight you’re going to win.”

Dean set his jaw.

“Yes it is. And you wanna know why?” He closed the small gap between himself and his father.

“Because she’s my girl.”

…

You jumped in surprise when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to see Dean standing there, both your bag and his in his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head, trying hard not to seethe.

“Nothin’ baby, just some…complications,” Dean focused on his usual spot, just above your shoulder. “We think there’s something big in the next town over, you and me are taking the Impala, dad can catch up later.”

You frowned, “Dean, what about your arm?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll give it a quick patch job and I can sew it up when we get where we’re going. Now c’mon, we’re in a hurry.”

…

You were quiet as Dean loaded up the Impala and began to drive out of town. In fact, he was starting to think that you were dozing off when you finally spoke.

“There isn’t a job, is there?”

Dean glanced at you, frowning.

“What are you talking about, N/N? Of course there’s a job, I-“

“You and dad fought, didn’t you? Was it about me?”

Dean turned to stare at you. You hesitated before meeting his gaze head-on.

“He was mad, I could tell. You were, too. And a job could’ve waited until after you sewed yourself up. You didn’t want me going back to the room, because dad was there.”

Dean cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road.

“So what, you’re saying you think I lied to you?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and looked out the window.

“Did you?”

Dean shook his head, “C’mon baby, don’t you trust me?”

“Why didn’t you answer my question?”

Dean sighed.

“Dean? Why didn’t you want me to go back to the room?”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

“Don’t say that, I do trust you, always. But I wanna know.”

Dean tried his best to force a smile on his lips as he reached over and ruffled your hair.

“Doesn’t matter sweetheart. What matters is, you’re safe, and we’re gonna be ok.”

“What about dad?”

Dean forced himself to look over at you, and he felt a pang in his chest when he saw you. You were curled in on yourself, looking up at him. You looked so small.

“Honey, I need you to just trust me. Please, can you do that for me?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Ok Dean. I trust you.”

[beababoobies]

Oh my stars so I saw your post for Hazbin hotel requests can I PLEASE get a reader w Sir Pentious who is low-key jealous of his crush on cherry but he ends up getting w reader in the end?

I would love you forever 🙏

yurp, I gotchu. I love cherpentious with my entire heart but anything for y’all 🫡

edit : THERE IS NOW A PART TWO!

Somethin’ Stupid - Sir Pentious

words : 1.77k, slight warning for ep 6 stuffs

God, this fucking sucked. 

Cherri, who was - and you don’t mean to be direct, or self-loathing - downright fucking gorgeous, had been bribed to take you all out to a bar - well no, that wasn’t the exact instructions, but it was clear enough that Charlie didn’t expect much more from her. So here you were, slouched back on a vodka-stained couch in the corner of this bar, Husk lounging beside you while Nifty giggled and played with his fur, and your oh so beloved Sir Pentious across from you. 

You kicked back another shot of whatever Angel had brought to you, pretending to find whatever Husk had just said funny (you were far too caught up in the way Sir Pentious was goo goo eyeing a certain Cherri Bomb.) and Husk spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’s up your ass today, kid?” He said flatly with a swig of his beer, raising one of his eyebrows as you finally snapped your attention back to him, trying to smile non-chalantly as you watched your beloved little drunken ball of insecurity slither towards Cherri again from the corner of your eye. “ ‘ts nuthin, Husk. Leave it.” You say with an annoyed sigh as you watch Pentious stumble over his words to an annoyed and unimpressed Cherri. 

“- I’M HAVING SSSSEX WITH EVERYONE HERE!” He turns around and yells, which has both Nifty, Angel, and Husk snap their heads around with wide eyes. He gives you a sad look and you try to give him a reassuring one. That is until he gets dragged into a separate room, and you inhale sharply through your teeth, wincing at the way he screams before the door is shut properly. Cherri doesn’t even look like she cares. 

“Ah.” Husk says flatly, catching your attention again. “Should’ve guessed after your fuckin’ ramble last night. ‘But Husk he doesn’t even know I’m here!’ and all those fuckin’ ‘I’ve been here longer than he has and he won’t even talk to me!‘s. he’s just nervous around you, like he is with Cherri. Fucker has some self-confidence issues. Just do it already.” He says, looking almost annoyed as you flushed deep and slapped your hand over his mouth, which he quickly swatted away. 

“Shh! Jesus fucking Christ Husk, not so loud! Fuck!” You grumble as Angel giggles with a hand over his mouth from the other end of the booth, before taking another small sip of his cocktail. “Not a secret, toots.” He says with his casually shit-eating grin, gesturing to a very drunk Nifty who was giggling now too, nodding her head. Great. 

“Sometimes, when I’m out killing the bugs that think they’re all sneaky, and gross and cool at night, I walk past your room and you’re listening to super bad romance music. Which scares the bugs away and makes them surrender their lives. Which like, it’s supposed to be a fight! You’re ruining all the fun… ” She adds the last part with a annoyed grumble, but despite her unbelievably drunken state, she’s still speaking fast, high-pitched, and with the exact same creepy undertones. “And I walk past that bad boys room and he’s all rehearsing romance poetry he wrote. It’s so bad! Ehehe!” 

She giggles out, eyes falling on a bug on the floor, hopping quickly off of Husker’s head and falling face first onto the floor, before quickly picking herself back up and running after it. “Shit.” Angel groans, putting his cocktail down quickly and shuffling out of the booth. “I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t end up with some creep.” He grits out through his teeth, before disappearing into the crowd with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d better help him out.” Husk says with a sigh as well as he placed his beer bottle down carefully, pulling himself up with a groan.

He turns back to you for a second, just looking over his shoulder, before smiling. “You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.” He says, humming softly before he adds one last thing. “Please do check in on the awkward fucker though, I don’t know what kind of shit he’s got stuffed in him or is stuffing at the fuckin moment.” Husk says with a sigh, disappearing right into the ground of flashing lights and bumping bodies right after Angel. 

You took the last courage swig of your drink and stood up, doing a little tipsy stretch as you got up, before dejectedly walking over to where a very, very exhausted Sir Pentious was sitting, hyperventilating and sweaty. You let out a soft sigh as you walked over, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands away from his face, holding them softly in your hands, looking up at him with furrowed brows and concern.

“Hey Pentious, that was a lot wasn’t it?” You say softly and he nods, refusing to make eye contact with you. He looks grossed out, ashamed, everything. You let out a soft sigh and rub small circles into the back of his palm with your thumb, doing your best to comfort him in the loud and overstimulating bar scene. 

“They were very kind - I jusssst, kept ssssssaying yessss. I don’t know why.” He says softly, and you nod, standing up and helping him up too. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, ‘Kay? You can take a nice hot shower and go to bed.” You reassure quietly and he finally looks up from the ground, smiling at you quickly before nodding, but as soon as Angel catches his gaze again, he’s out of your grips and right back to focusing on Cherri. You grimace softly as you watch him rush up to angel and ask where Cherri is. You watch as he groans in defeat as she goes into another room with a random guy. 

Some part of you feels happy, relieved of some jealousy. Another part of you feels bad. That was all he was doing the entire night, trying to get her attention. You shook it off and walked over to where everyone had re-grouped, giving them a tired wave, and getting one in return. You let out a small gasp as you saw the dried blood from Angels’ nose all the way down or his lip, his new black eye. 

“Oh dear, what happened?” You cooed softly, reaching up to wipe some of the blood of his face, and he softly moved away, shaking his head in a polite ‘thank you, but not right now’ way, and you nodded. “It was just a run-in with Val.” He says with a sigh, wiping another fresh stream of blood from his other nostril onto the back of his hand. “Let’s get going - I’ll tell you when we’re back at the hotel, Toots.” 

An unceremonious end to the night; but not exactly the end to yours. Even when you got back, debriefing everything that happened with Husk and Angel while Nifty snored on the couch and Pentious took a shower, even when you had finally wished them a good night and made your bed, sighing as you let your head fall to your pillow, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with him. What Husk had said. 

“You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.”

You repeated it in your head for hours while you tried to think about anything else, scrolling on your phone aimlessly through Hellflix, InstaScam, Crime Video, even YouCrude - there was no one to e-stalk, no new shows for you to binge, not even something you wanted to re-watch. No new uploads from your faves - just an endless amount of scrolling. 

Until about 3 a.m.

That’s when you heard it - shaky, nearly silent sobs from Pentious’s room, small sniffles. You checked the time, sighed, threw a shitty pair of smiley-face PJ pants Charlie had made for you on, and slumped over to his bedroom, knocking softly on his door. It went dead silent, not a mouse, no the small clinking or squishing of Nifty’s bug-killing sewing needle. 

“Who issss it?” He said in a shaky, tired, raw voice, and your heart absolutely melted, hand against the doorknob as you spoke. “It’s me, Pentious. I just heard you - uh - being sad. I know I’m not your favourite, but can I come in?” You say with a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair tiredly. It takes him a minute and a soft hiccup before he rasps out a small “pleasssse, y-yeah.” And you open the door.

What you find is absolutely heartbreaking. Your favourite little serpent, curled in on himself, hugging his tail to himself, eyes red with tears that fall softly down his face, hat resting on his old worn down dresser, angry and frustrated swipes if his claws leaving him on top of torn up bedsheets and pillows, and you nearly cry with him right then and there. This sweet man who has been nothing but a pure angel, stuck with all the sinners, including yourself, down here. 

You walked over to him, sitting beside him on his bed, hearing the old mattress frame squeak softly as you sat down, putting your hand on his, gently cooing him until he took big, deep breaths, gently and encouragingly rubbing circles back into the palm of his hand.

“Tell me, what’s up? I’m all -“ you start confidently, being cut off by an annoyed but desperate call from Pentious himself, pulling his hand away from yours and groaning into his palms, shaking his head. “that ISSSSS the problem! You’re the problem-  you’re so pretty I can’t think sssstraight around you! And now you think I hate you!” He cries out, looking at you with desperate eyes, like he wants you to say something - anything, really. But you really can’t.

You’re completely frozen, hand frozen in mid air when it was going to rest on his shoulder to comfort him, eyes wife, lips pierced together and all you can do is stare at him like some stupid idiot. You are at a mental battle of grabbing his face and kissing him until you can’t breathe or slowly talking it out. He sighs dejectedly.

“I want to get closssser to you. Wanted to be your friend, at leassst. But… then I’d go and ssssspoil it all by ssssaying ssssomething sssstupid like…” he stops for a second, swallowing thickly. “…I love you.” He looks up at you again, nearly desperate for an answer. You finally get some words out of your closed up throat -

“I love you.” 

~

Frank + Nancy Sinatra My Beloveds &lt;;3

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Behave

Pairing: Poly!Woosan x Reader

Summary: You and Wooyoung knew exactly what you were doing. San had given both one simple instruction. Behave. That’s all he asked of you. But he should’ve known better. He knew you both better than that. There was nothing the two of you loved more than ruffling his feathers.

Warnings: SMUT BELOW THE CUT, MDNI, 18+, Petnames (Baby, Princess, etc…), Honorifics (Daddy,Sir), Slight Oral (F receiving), Dirty Talk, Spanking, Safe Word Referencing

Word Count: ~2K

A/N: Hi loves! I’ve gotten into Ateez recently. I’m a HUGE woosan shipper. I also LOVE a good MMF threesome. Thus this imagine was born. I hope you enjoy. Likes, positive Comments, Reblogs are always welcome!

XO,Bibi 🩷

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It started subtly. Wooyoung dragged you to the dance floor. Which was not unusual. He was always trying to get you to open up a little. Your boyfriend was persuasive. So when San saw him drag you to the floor, he was not concerned. He knew you would keep Wooyoung semi-calm. He wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you, it would betray your trust and make you revert into your shell. He didn’t want that. Even knowing this San kept an eye on you both. He liked having an eye on his babies at all times. Always ready to jump in if needed. He admired you both from a distance. Your arms hung around Wooyoung’s neck as you danced to the beat.

The club was full of various celebrities. He had looked away for no more than a second when loud whooping caught his attention. He turned back to the dance floor to find you and Woo again. As his eyes scan the crowd, he catches your eye. The glint in your eyes is a familiar one, but it’s foreign to your face. It’s the look Wooyoung gets when he’s about to stir up trouble. Usually, the only time you acted out was with a little misguidance from Wooyoung. Typically you were his perfect girl. San watches you for a second more before moving his eyes to Woo’s face. Wooyoung’s expression is devious. Then San realizes what song was playing. It was your favorite. The three of you listened to it in the house frequently. Grinding on each other, hands everywhere. It was something he never thought he’d see you do in public, and he was perfectly okay with that. San watches as you dance seductively to the song. You’ve turned around dancing on Wooyoung. Your hands are wrapped around the back of his neck, with your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Suddenly you let go of Wooyoung’s neck. This puts San in motion. He knows what you’re about to do. He sees you bend over and start grinding against Wooyoung’s hardening dick. Wooyoung is smirking at him as he grabs your hips and gently starts grinding with you.

San will reach you soon after. He can’t make a scene, the club is packed. Someone would say something. He moves behind Wooyoung and whispers in his ear. “Step back or you won’t cum for a month.” Woo moves in the blink of an eye. He stands back and watches San approach you. You barely notice them switching places, but when you feel San’s familiar hands you move to stand up straight. Even when you were being a brat, you were still his good girl. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “Baby, I can’t believe you let Wooyoungie talk you into trouble.” You whip your head around to protest. He cuts you off before you can open your mouth. “Nope. Outside. Both of you. Now.” You know you’re in trouble.

The car ride home is silent. There’s music playing on the radio but you can’t focus on that. You wanna know what San is going to do to you and Wooyoung? You look over at Wooyoung who is sitting next to you. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry. He’s smirking out the window to himself. You look over at San, he’s on his phone. He looks up when he feels your eyes and winks at you. Which doesn’t ease your nerves. You know you’re in for a long night. When the car comes to a stop San steps out first and helps you out, while Wooyoung gets out on the other side. The three of you walk into the house after San unlocks the door. You stand in the mud room removing your shoes when San speaks. “I want both of you to strip completely, and wait for me on the bed.” After removing your shoes, you begin to head towards the main door of the house. “Where are you going” San asks with a tilt of his head. “Um…to the room?” you ask him confused, behind you Wooyoung snickers. You turn around to look at him, he’s already taken off his shirt. Then it dawns on you. San wants you to strip here, and then walk through the house naked. You turn back to him shocked. He chuckles at the look on your face, “Go on Baby, get naked for me.” He leans against the door frame and folds his arms, looking at you expectantly. “Here let me help.” you hear Woo offer. You feel his hands on your back before you feel the zipper come undone. Your dress falls to the floor and you turn to thank him. Turning back around you look San in the eye. “Sannie, please. I’m shy.” His face doesn’t change. “It’s just me and Wooyoungie, Baby. There’s nothing to be shy about. Be a good girl for me, huh?” He reassures you. You want to please him, especially after the stunt you pulled. So you remove your underwear garments. You and Wooyoung walk past San and head upstairs. He watches you both before heading into the kitchen.

Upstairs you and Wooyoung are sitting on the bed waiting for San. “Calm down. He’s never done anything we didn’t like and he’d never actually hurt us.” Woo says from beside you. You glance in his direction. “Shut up, because you said we wouldn’t get in trouble.” You see his eyes darken and you know you’ve made a mistake. Even though you both were submissive in regard to San, Wooyoung was still a switch. When it was just the two of you together Woo took control, he was your Daddy. Wooyoung grips your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. “Hey. Watch it, I said we wouldn’t get in trouble for dancing a little sexy. No one told you to bend over and grind your ass into my dick. That was all you Princess.” He’s right. You don’t know where the sudden boost of brattiness came from. You look up at him through your lashes and apologize. “Sorry, Daddy.” He kisses you swiftly on the lips before releasing you. You can hear shuffling around in the kitchen before he begins to climb the stairs.

San walks into the room and smiles at the two of you. He kisses you both on the forehead before stepping back and leaning against the dresser. “Whose idea was it?” he asks simply. Wooyoung quickly glances at you before slowly beginning to raise his hand. But you beat him to it, “It was me! Wooyoungie said we could dance. But the song took over my body.” Wooyoung can’t help but laugh at your sincerity. San cuts his eyes over to him and Wooyoung closes his mouth immediately. San looks back at you. “Baby I’m so surprised at you. I asked you to behave.” He has a mischievous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir.” He nods silently at you. “Wooyoungie, come stand over here.” Woo gets up, as he and San switch places. San sits next to you before patting his lap, “Come here, Baby.” You stand up to sit on his lap, but he stops you. “No. Lay over my knee.” A spanking. You had never gotten one from San. Wooyoung had given you a few, you tended to act out more with him. But Sannie had never spanked you before. Hesitantly you descend over his knee. “I’m gonna give you ten spanks, but first I need to know that you understand why this is happening. I also need to know that this is okay.” With your head down you begin to speak. “I’m in trouble for taking it too far on the dance floor. I was taunting you on purpose. My color is green, Sir.”

You made it through your spanking with minimal tears. When San lets you up, he wipes your tears before addressing you. “You did so well from me, girl.” You smile shyly before nodding. He continues talking, “I think Wooyoungie enjoyed watching you get your punishment, isn’t that right my love?” You turn to see Wooyoung looking at you with lust-filled eyes, his hand is slowly stroking his hardened cock. He blinks a few times before responding, “Yes, Sir.” San chuckles at his boyfriend, “Well, now it’s your turn to be punished.” Wooyoung looks surprised by this statement. San smirks at him. “You didn’t think you’d get off easy, did you? I know it was initially your idea, and you could’ve stopped her. Hands behind your back.” San moves you to straddle his lap before whispering in your ear, “Let’s give your Daddy a show.” He pulls you in and kisses you deeply. He slips his tongue in your mouth, you moan and you hear Woo whimper behind you. San pulls away and looks over your shoulder. “Where did I tell you to put your hands?” You turn your head to see Wooyoung playing with his leaking member. “Since you can’t seem to listen tonight let me help you.” San moves you off his lap and to the bed. He instructs you to lie back before he approaches Wooyoung. He reaches the drawer beside the smaller man’s form. He bites his ear before pulling out a silk scarf. “This will help you be still and resist temptation.” Wooyoung makes a sound of protest as San ties his wrists behind his back.

You watch the scene unfold and it makes you wet. Wooyoung is always so dominant with you. Watching him be so submissive with San turned you on. San takes Wooyoung’s chin in his hands and gives him a sloppy kiss before returning to you. He approaches you like a lion on the prowl. He climbs on top of you and resumes where he left off. Kisses your lips before moving to your neck. you can feel him leaving a hickey before he pulls back to pull off his clothes. He begins to kiss down your body, before finding the juncture between your thighs soaking wet.

He swipes a finger through your folds and brings it to his lips. He moans as he sticks his fingers in his mouth tasting you. “Baby you taste so good.” He turns around at the sound of Wooyoung whimpering loudly. “Hush. Be a good boy, you’ll get what you want. Just take your punishment and watch. Be patient” The younger boy lets out a small huff before putting his head down. San turns back around before reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. He spreads the liquid over his dick, before positioning himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Baby?” he addresses you with a smile. “Yes, Sir,” you answer and moan as he pushes himself in completely. San fucks you like he’s waited his whole life to do so. Not too rough, Not too slow. Absolutely perfect. His just barely fits. He’s thicker than Wooyoung is. But their length is about the same. The tip brushes your g-spot with every stroke. The three of you create a beautiful symphony with your moans. You can see over San’s shoulder that Wooyoung has his thighs pressed together trying to create some relief for himself. His tip is red and leaking precum. “Sir, I’m about to cum. Please, let me cum” you beg San. “That’s it Baby, cum for me.” He slams into you and you feel yourself release with him inside. The pressure from your relief triggers San’s. You feel him paint your insides with hot ropes of cum. He slumps against your shoulder. He catches his breath before biting your shoulder and pulling back. He smirks at you before asking “You think it’s time for Wooyoungie to join us?” You look over at Wooyoung and smile. “Yes, please.”

THE END.

[liveontelevision]

Redemption | Lucifer x Reader

This is mostly fluff and angst so far, but there's a chance i'll write a part 2 with some possibly smuttier stuff goin on 🥴

Heads up, Lucifer's a god damn mess in this one. Love to see my boy suffer, though.

♡♡♡

"Sure, whatever. You got the job." Lucifer let's out an exhausted sigh, pushing himself away from his desk and immediately pulling a stack of papers into his hands before beginning to walk off.

You lift up your finger as if to add something to this one-sided conversation, but nothing seems to come out. You shake your head and pull away from the same desk, where you were seated across from the king of Hell.

"O-Oh! Thank you, Your Highness! I'll be here first thing Monday morning!"

"Yeah, listen, I only hired someone because Lillith says I need to lighten my workload, but I can't trust some random sinner... and I got a whole system going, soo - " he responded to you as he took paperwork and filed it away, not at all engaged in conversation.

"Just be here and look busy at your desk. It's the cushiest job ever. If you're lucky, you'll get some calls and schedule some appointments." He waved his hand, silently dismissing you from his office.

"Ah.. well, i'll still be here if you ever need assistance, Sir! Right.. Monday, i'll be here! Thank you - " You stammered out some enthusiastic words before quickly walking towards the door and letting yourself out. Lucifer never stepped away from his work, letting you uncomfortably leave without a word.

The weekend goes quickly, and yet your first week working as Lucifer's assistant goes by slowly. He meant what he said. You simply sat at the desk right outside his office and managed to take one call the entire week. It was spam. You really couldn't complain much, though. You sat there and doodled, or read a book, or kept yourself busy with some other meaningless task and got paid well for it.

Very Well.

You thought that working at a job like this for even a single year would leave you with enough money to live comfortably in Hell, which was saying something. Lillith occasionally came by to ask how the king was, but you were given scripted answers by Lucifer for almost all her questions. You'd say things that made it sound like you were taking on as much work as possible, giving the Queen some sort of satisfaction with your employment.

Your relationship with Lucifer was distant for the first few years you knew him. But, about 5 years into this job, you actually felt well versed in your work. After he trusted you with at least filing things away, you became very familiar with his documents. So, when Lillith suddenly disappeared and Lucifer fell into a depression, you adjusted quickly to pick up anything he couldn't handle. He was frustrated that you were taking initiative but softened at the sight of how well you managed to get everything done.

As his mentality began to improve, he'd take on some paperwork that you would do, finally giving you a chance to breathe. No wonder Lillith insisted on getting him help. He had quite the workload.

After things were settled a bit more, it became easier to try and chat with him. You had brought him a pot of tea at some point, which quickly became a routine after you saw how much he appreciated it. Then as time went on, you'd bring two cups with you, sharing his free time.

You became closer during Lillith's absence, being the only person who saw him on the daily. You'd been there for his angry fits when something especially frustrating would occur. Or when work became too much, it led to a vulnerable display of misery that you had to be careful around.

On a certain day, you finally commented on Lucifer's depressed state. He was quick to open up to you, being too exhausted to consider the repercussions of sharing such intimate thoughts. That was the night you learned that Lillith had just disappeared. She left a note that instructed him to take care of Charlie, but there was no indication of her returning. He was such a kind soul, it twisted your heart seeing him suffer this much.

After that, things started to become more casual between the two of you. You'd handle his work with ease, and he appreciated you more than you'd ever know. Such a hard worker sticking by his side through all of it, it filled his head with a cluster of thoughts that he never had time to entertain. You were pleased to be able to call him a friend after all this time.

It's been 7 years since Lillith disappeared, and things had settled into a routine. You would do your work, ask him questions if needed, and spend your break time drinking tea and discussing personal projects or what your life was like. The few joyful stories you had would almost bring him to tears, considering he never was able to see what free will did for humans on Earth after all this time.

One morning, you heard him taking a phone call before a chipper Lucifer kicking open his office doors. You jumped, the wind blowing some papers away from in front of you.

"Damn it!" You huffed, quick to lean down to collect the mess he made.

"Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, sweatheart! My daughter wants to see me!" He spoke with pride, adjusting his bowtie and taking a deep breath to attempt to ease his nerves.

"Hey, that's great! I'll cancel your meetings. I'm glad to see that you two are finally getting in touch again." You smiled sincerely as you stood in front of him. You towered over him by just a few inches. You gave a quick swipe off his shoulders, clearinv some barely noticeable dust from his coat. He was quick to step away, not expecting the sudden touch. That was definitely something you picked up on; that he didn't really understand how to react to touch after Lillith left.

"Y-Yes, very good. I'll be getting ready if you need me." He stammered out, sending you awkward finger guns before making his way down the hall. You always loved seeing him flustered.

As you tried to get work done, you really couldn't keep your mind straight. You finally put some paperwork down after re-reading the same sentence over and over, realizing you weren't getting anywhere. You let out a huff and made your way to Lucifer's room.

He'd let you into his bedroom a handful of times over the years to pack his bags for trips that would take a few days or to bring him tea. There were a few times where you'd let yourself in, like taking care of him when he would get sick - no matter how much he insisted he didnt need the care - or if you felt he could benefit from talking something out.

You knocked lightly, but not getting a response for a while, you peaked your head inside carefully. He was pacing his room, multiple suits hanging in front of him on a rack and clothes piling up on the floors.

"Oh geez.. Lucifer, can I come in?" You asked out loud, your head already peaking in.

"Fuck! Ooh, sure! Yup! One.. Second..." You tried not to watch him portal away the mess, pushing random items inside before quickly snapping it away. He leaned on his desk, trying to seem unphased as you stepped inside. "Aaand what can i do for you, my dear?" He spoke as if he hadn't been a fumbling mess for the past half hour, but you could tell almost immediately.

"I just - I wanted to tell you how proud I am. I know you've had a rough couple of.. centuries... but I also know how much Charlie means to you, so I'm glad you're finally getting to see her work. I'm sure she looks up to you, no matter what you think of yourself." You looked away, shyly rubbing your arm for some sort of comfort, hoping that you weren't overstepping any boundaries. You weren't exactly looking in his direction when you spoke, so you didn't expect a sudden hand to take yours, running a thumb across your knuckles gently. You immediately perked up.

"Thank you.. You always know just what to say to calm me down, huh?" He sent you a sweet smile. It was clear that he was struggling to keep tears from welling in his eyes, the sentiment just too much for him to handle. He let out a quick sigh before giving your hand a small squeeze and letting it drop. Your eyes widened, and your face turned red. This was a big step. Even after all these years, he rarely made any physical contact with you.

"So! I guess now that you're here, I might need some help with - uh.. suits! W-What to wear.." He picked up on your flustered expression and was quick to change the topic. Snapping his fingers, he let the previous portal reappear. Clothes, accessories, and a full rack of suits fell out like a closet door that had burst open. You both stood in silence for a moment before you broke it with a snort, covering your smile immediately.

As soon as he returned, Lucifer immediately updated you on how the visit went. It was a long vent about some obnoxious red-headed demon, Charlie's clearly angelic girlfriend, and the sudden fear of having to contact Heaven and schedule the meeting.

"I've got it, sir. You know they seem to tolerate me more than you for some reason." You grin wickedly, flipping your hair to display confidence. He let out a soft chuckle and gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before heading back to his room.

It took all your strength not to follow him.

A few months had passed, and you had to pick up some more work than usual due to Lucifer being busy with the construction of the hotel that had been demolished. After it was completely done, you noticed that the building had an apple shaped tower. You confronted the king before he nervously admitted to moving into the hotel to be closer to Charlie.

"Oh! That's.. yeah, that's great, sir! I should be fine here, i've been handling it pretty well so far, right? I'll be fine." Your final statement was more for yourself than him.

"What? You're not joining me? I still have an office, and even if it's a bit smaller, i still expect you to come work for me. There's plenty of rooms, too, if you want to stay nearby. But, hey - if you'd rather stay here then - "

"No! I'll go to the hotel!" You quickly blurted out, seeing a sly grin across his face. Oh, he totally did that on purpose. You let out a groan and rolled your eyes, trying to conceal the light blush creeping across your face.

So, that was that. You were quick to settle into the hotel, meeting and bonding with the staff easily. Lucifer had told you so much about them that you could nearly recognize them through their appearance alone. Charlie was the easiest. She had plenty of pictures in the castle and looked just like her father. Once you had settled into your room that was just a few yards away from Lucifers office, you heard a quick knock. You opened the door to Charlie's bright face.

"Hi! I hope you're settling in okay! I don't know how much my dad's told you about my project, but.. if you're interested  - " She holds out a pamphlet, Redemption written across the top of it. " - you're totally welcome to join us!"

You take it with a smile before shutting your door again. You skimmed through it, getting the jist. It made you think of your parents. You hadn't seen them down here, luckily, so you wondered if they'd be in Heaven. You never had the best relationship, but they were family at the end of the day. Maybe it was something to consider.

The work environment was changing. Lucifer handled more hands on tasks, so you saw him less than before. You helped with anything Charlie or Lucifer needed, but still mainly stayed at your desk to finish some routine work. In your free time, you attended exercises and hung around with the other guests. You really only interacted with Lucifer for the past decade, so getting out and talking to others was a nice change.

Every so often, you'd get a chance to chat with Lucifer. When you entered the office in the morning and saw him working at his desk, you quickly whipped up some tea at the heated pad that was added to the office for this exact reason. You took any chance you could catch up with him. Placing the cups on his desk and filling them both, he almost jumped, clearly invested in this letter he was reading.

"Thank you.. how've you been doing? I know we don't get much tea time anymore - " he childishly clinks your cups together before taking a sip, " - but.. just been busy... Sorry." He said softly, his smile slightly drooping as he spoke.

You quickly swallow your tea to reassure him," Mm! Don't be sorry, I knew things would be different here, I don't mind! And besides, Charlie's been keeping me busy with the whole redemption thing. It's kinda fun, everyone here is really sweet." You spoke, going into detail about some of the exercises that went on and how they would play out. His smile never really picked up, he would simply nod and continued to sip his tea as you went on.

"Well - Glad you're having.. fun... I suppose." He glanced at a calendar sitting on his desk for just a moment, before letting out a shaky breath.

"Your highness? Is everything okay?" You immediately noticed his dismissive attitude, before placing your empty cup on his desk.

"It's Lucifer, remember? You've known me too long to keep calling me your highness." He cringed at the title, making quotation marks as he said it. He stood from his seat with a stretch. You had little room between the two of you when he stood up, making you stumble back a bit. He patted your shoulder, a gesture that became comforting throughout the recent months. His hand lingered a bit longer than usual. He stepped away, leaving the office to do some kind of task you weren't paying attention to.

"O-Okay..! I'll see you around then, Lucifer!" You nearly shouted his name, hoping he'd hear it even though he was down the hall at this point. He heard it. And boy, did he regret telling you to do that. He covered his red face as he turned the corner out of your view.

A few weeks had passed, and you really didnt see Lucifer around at all. Every time you went into the office, he seemed to just be heading out. Maybe it was just bad luck. But you went on with your routine, even without seeing him as much as you'd like.

With the stress of not seeing Lucifer and a particularly rough day, you struggled to walk to your room. Fumbling in your pocket for your room key, you caught a glimpse of the devil himself leaving his office.

"Lucifer!"

You called out, almost sounding relieved. He shot his eyes up to look at you, sending you a nervous smile and a little wave. You stumbled over yourself a bit to catch up to him, stopping him where he stands.

"How have things been going? You wouldn't happen to have time for some tea, would you? I'd love to get some updates!" Even with a drained social battery, you wanted nothing more than to be in his presence right now.

"O-Oh! U-Uh.. sure, i'll get it started, I have some time.." he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, turning back towards the office.

"Great! I'll be there in a second, okay?" You cheerfully went back to your room, not noticing his nervous expressions as he spoke to you.

You took a few minutes to change into some comfortable clothes. Sure, you looked great in business casual, but nothing could beat a cropped t-shirt and pair of sweat pants that bagged loosely around your hips. Lucifer's seen you this way a few times. sometimes, late night projects needed to be worked on and he would always insist that you work in something comfortable, knowing it would take a while to finish.

So you had no issue when you reentered the office, shutting the door behind you.

He desperately tried to keep his eyes away from your mid drift, looking back towards the boiling water on the heated pad in front of him. His vest was undone and his coat was hung up nearby. He had rolled his sleeves up, and stood at the counter with his hands placed on his hips. You took in his appearance, feeling a bit better that he wasnt completely put together either.

"So? How's.. how's your day been?" He asked in a hushed voice, keeping his face completely out of view.

"It's been kind of a rough day, actually.. Charlie needed some help with some new residents, so I had to give a few tours. Which i don't mind of course, but fuck does that take more energy than i have. And some of the demons were looking at me funny, so I had to get out of their fast. Angel hid me in the library for hours! It was fine, though. Besides, it was fun to hang out with him. Oh, and Charlie says i'm making good process, too! That was a good pick-me-up." You said your last sentence with pride, puffing out your chest a bit.

"Fuck!"

You quickly drop your eyes to see Lucifer hunched over, clutching his hand with a hiss. You see the tea pot boiling over and quickly rush over to unplug the heated pad.

"Lucifer, be careful, geez! Is this why i make tea all the time? Can't handle it?" You teased, taking a towel to clean up the small amount of hot water sitting on the counter. Finally seeing the damage, you see a burn forming along the palm of his hand. You look at him for a moment, hovering your hand just over his wrist. He nods to you then looks away, letting you take a soft grasp onto his wrist amd leading it over to the accompanying sink just a few feet away. You held his hand under the faucet, letting a slow stream of cold water run over his hand. He flinches at the sensation, but immediately relaxes once he realizes how much of a relief it was.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, leaning against the counter with your head cocked to the side. "Maybe it's just because you've been so busy, but i feel like something.. happened. Do you wanna talk to me?" You offered your help, but made it clear that he didnt need to open up if he wasnt ready. It was one of the boundaries you respected that he appreciated so much.

"It's- yeah. I'm fine. Things are going well, right? We have residents, Charlie's getting some good progress apparently, and Heaven's finally keeping us updated on the redeemed souls.. so, it's all good! Just needs a little elbow grease to keep this ship running, right? Nothin' the king of hell can't handle." He spoke smugly.

"Sure! It's great that the hotel's doing well. But I asked how you're doing." You clarified for him, crossing your arms across your chest. He groaned, placing his weight on his elbow on the counter and leaning forward, his hand still shifting under the running water.

"I-I'm.. it's..." he stammered and struggled to piece together his thoughts." It's... been almost 15 years. Since I hired you. Did you know that? Even after Lillith left, you still stuck around and took care of me.. I'm such a mess, why do you still take care of me..?" He mumbled his words, as if he never really wanted you to hear them.

 "I guess it has been, huh? Best decision of my life, really. I mean you pay me way too much, but.. I also got to make a friend, too. I'll be here for you no matter what, Lucifer. You're not a mess, you're doing great." You smiled at him, shifting your position to place a hand on his shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, leaning his head towards your hand. His cheek brushed against the top of your hand, in a sort of caressing motion. You pulled away, out of shock, your hands enclosed in front of your chest. He looked up to see your eyes wide open and your body suddenly tense. He opened his mouth, as if to apologize, but stops to think for a moment instead.

He keeps his eye contact, taking a hold of your hand again, and pressing a small kiss on your knuckles, before leaving it in front of his lips. You felt his breath against your hand as he finally gets the courage to speak.

"You'll be here no matter what, huh? So.. If i were to ask you to... stay - I mean you don't have to say yes, but.. hypothetically... if i asked..." he spoke slowly, like he was still searching for the words as he said them out loud.

You melted at his sudden affection, your knuckles tingling from the sensation of his lips and breath against your hand. It was only after he spoke, you pulled your hand away from him carefully.

"What..? You mean like... stay in Hell? I don't - Lucifer, i'm confused. I've been working with Charlie for almost six months, you know? What's going on?" You sounded almost frightened, and it sent a pang to Lucifer's heart. He turned the sink off, beginning to rub the water off his hand. He hissed, the friction just causing more irration. Your instinct to aid him took over. You took the towel in one hand and his burned hand in the other, lightly dabbing the towel against the tender skin.

"Well, i said it was hypothetical, didnt I? What.. what would you say? Would you stay?" You paused with your hand holding his wrist, looking dwon at the calmed burn.

"Hypothetically? I don't.. I don't know, Lucifer.. I know Charlie could always use extra hands, and... you'd have to hire someone else, which would be a hassle - " he cringed at the thought of hiring someone else once it was said outloud.

"Exactly! See? You get it! I - We need as much help as we can get for the hotel, so.. maybe try to stick around. You've been too useful to keep doing this silly exercises, don't you think?" He was panicking. You could hear him desperately trying to come up with any excuse under the sun, but it still caused you to tense up. Your body curled into itself and you stepped back a bit, looking at him with such a purplexed expression that even he didnt understand what he was saying.

"Lucifer, I know your work is important and I know how much you want to support Charlie, but.. she said i'm doing it. That I might have a chance to go up to Heaven! Isn't that the whole point of being here? Isn't that what you want?"

His eye twitched at your words and he was quick to change his temper.

"No! It's not! That's not why you're here..! You're here, because I need you - need you to keep working for me! You're here because I brought you here. You know, the last redeemed soul was only here for six months, too! You could disappear at any second!" His voice sounded stern, but it was clear his intentions dripped of desperation. It still hurt you nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, but what the fuck?? I'm doing all the activities and making friends here, I thought you'd be happy about that! I've supported you through so much and even though you're acting this way, i always will! I thought you'd do the same!" You began to pace the office, your breath hitching a bit as you spoke. You tried your hardest not to let the tears in your eyes well up. Not wanting to let Lucifer see you in this state, you began to leave the office, quickly opening the door.

"No! Wait! I can't - I-I don't know how to - " He still struggled to get a coherent sentence out as you turned to face him one last time.

"Sir - "

" I told you not to call me that..!" He clenched his fists at the term.

"No. I can't do this while you're acting like this. I'll give you some space, let you figure out.. whatever's going on with you, then... we can talk. But if you decide that this is all you have to say, then I'll be continuing my work with you and Charlie, as usual. Goodnight, Sir."

You couldn't help but let your voice crack as you spoke. The idea of just moving past this sudden outburst hurt, but you knew that sometimes he just needed that space. And you hated to admit that you could use the space as well. You were supposed to be the calm and collected assistant, right? You were his anchor for a lot of the struggles he'd seen throughout the years and he confided so much in you.

What the fuck was his problem?

---

A few hours had passed, it gave both of you time to calm down from the heated discussion. Lucifer found himself right in front of your room, still without the strength to knock on your door. He took a deep breath in and held it in his chest before finally reaching foward. Before he even got the chance, the door swung open, smacking the air from his lungs. You both make sudden eye contact with eachother before Lucifer was hunched over coughing out the wind that was just knocked out of him. You cover your smile with your hand, pulling away from the door to open it fully.

"I guess you really are a mess, Lucifer.. what do you need?" You couldn't help but giggle when he lost his composure like this, it lightened your mood for a moment.

"Ahha.. you know me so well. I-I want to talk to you, you deserve an apology.." His voice was quiet, but you knew it was sincere. You stepped to the side, allowing him to enter your room.

"Okay, just - let me get through this, alright?" He took in a deep breath and spoke quickly,

"I don't understand why you want to go to Heaven. I told you about it in the past, you know how awful they are.. the rules and the limitations, fuck! They've done nothing but hurt me and fuck up everything going on down here. You couldve died you know! If you werent working for me and were just wandering the streets, you couldve been killed in any of those exterminations! I can't lose you! I-I - " you immediately noticed him losing his train of thought, and take a soft grip on his wrist in an attempt to ground him.

"I think my parents are up there, sir- Lucifer.."

He stops where he's at and looks towards you, before walking backwards and plopping down at the bench in front of your vanity.

"I-I didn't know. I never thought about-"

" - why i'd want to be redeemed? This isn't about wanting to leave you, I just.. i didnt realize this was an option, you know? That i might get to see them, again.."

Just for your own comfort, you shifted your grasp from his wrist to his hand, running your thumb across his palm lightly. The motion made him shiver slightly, still a bit sensitive from the burn.

"I didn't know you'd want to see them, i'm sorry.. you don't really talk about them much, so i thought..."

"No, you're right I didn't really have a good relationship with them, but it'd be nice to know theyre happy still, right? That all that time they spent working to keep me in school was worth it.. don't i owe them that?" He took a moment to process your words, his fingers slowly curling around your hand.

"I mean, you don't owe them anything, really. I have to ask, when's the last time you did something.. for yourself? You've been working for me for years and even here, it sounds like you're.. Ah, I'm sorry, i don't know what i'm saying - ". He always struggled with reading emotions, but even he could tell that that his words struck a nerve.

He looked away, dreading the silence that followed. What he wasn't expecting was the small hic and sniffles that suddenly came from your direction. He almost panicked, his eyes darting around the room for anything that seemed like a solution. He quickly stood up and hesitantly reached towards your face, just lightly brushing the tears that had streaked down your reddened cheeks.

"I-I don't know... I don't need much and I'm happy doing whatever you need me to, usually, so - I'll just keep doing that, okay? I-I'll stay.."

He groans and cringes at your words, before lifting your head to meet his eyes, his hands softly cupping your cheeks as he continued to wipe the tears still falling from your eyes.

"If you want to go to Heaven, I can't stop you. I-I won't stop you. But I also want you to.. be happy. I'm sorry about earlier, I never wanted to make any of this harder for you. You've done so much for me, sweetheart, I was scared of losing.. you... But I can handle myself, I promise. I mean, i'm a 10,000 year old demon with more power than I know what to do with. I'll be okay." He spoke sweetly, finally managing to let out a coherent thought. You melted into his touch, placing your hands overtop of his. Your eyes fluttered shut, allowing the last few tears to drip down.

"I know. I mean, sometimes I don't - sometimes it feels good to be able to help you so much - but I know you'll be fine." Your voice had a hint of hesitation. It was a relief to get some sort of resolve out of this conversation, but deep down, it felt as if you were deemed worthless. After all these years, he's saying he'd he fine if you went on to pursue other things, but why does that hurt?

"You asked when.. when was the last time I did something for myself. Honestly, I feel selfish. I feel like I've spent all this time taking care of you, because I like... feeling needed. I like that you ask me what to wear when you're nervous, or that you let me handle some of your more obnoxious clients just so you don't have to, I- I love it, actually. I love - being with you." You didn't realize you let out a mild confession, until you looked back to Lucifer to see his incredibly nervous expression. He was holding his breath, eyes impossibly wide as he bites his lower lip to prevent a quiver. He finally gulped before looking away and rocking back and forth on his heels.

"W-Well then! Self care at its finest, am I right? Ahha.. that's great how selfish you are! Self-selfless! Very selfless actually, I.. I really appreciate that you enjoy being around - enjoy my company..!" You watch him whip his hands behind his back, defaulting to the nervous mess he usually became when racked with a stressful situation.

"Oh! Lucifer, I'm sorry, that was a lot, I don't want you to feel like you have to - " A red clawed finger quickly hits your lips, and you see him with a lovely flustered expression. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, finger still uncomfortably pressed to your mouth.

"Can I- would you let me just- Fuck.. can I do something?" He blurted out. He was always so easy to read, but you prayed you weren't misunderstanding when you took a hold of his hand and pressed a small kiss to the tip of his finger that had lingered over your lips until now. He let's out a nervous chuckle and you hear an audible gulp as he moves his hands back to your cheeks, pulling your face down slightly to be able to meet his gaze. You can feel his heavy breath against your lips, suddenly realizing how close he actually was. In a quick motion, you pressed another small kiss onto his lips. You felt his hands jump at the sudden interaction, and tried your hardest to keep a smile from creeping on your face.

He let out a quick breath before planting a shaky kiss onto your lips, lingering for a moment longer this time. It still wasn't a lengthy kiss, but it was more than he could manage before stepping away for a moment, overwhelmed by your presence. This finally gave you a good look at him, a bright pink flush covered his face, and a small sheen from the lipgloss you forgot you were wearing appeared on his lips.

"You're so pretty, Lucifer." You spoke boldly, a suddern surge of confidence hitting you, just seeing him in this state.

"Can we keep going..?" You asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. He pulls at his collar, attempting to let any cool air hit his heated skin to try and calm him down. It's been a long time for him, sure, but considering the previous discussion, hearing you say you loved being around him, was enough to give him the confidence to nod along and sit next to you. You took a hold of his cheek and turned his head to face yours.

"I'll only do what you're comfortable with okay? We can stop whenever you need to." Your voice was sweet, your thumb beginning to run across his bottom lip as you spoke. He struggled to keep his eyes open, melting into your touch, and propped his hand on your arm to keep himself upright. He nodded slowly, finally letting his eyes droop close as you bring him into another kiss. You were definitely more confident than he was in this moment, or maybe it was just repressed excitement for an opportunity like this to happen. With your thumb still holding his bottom lip slightly ajar, you kissed along the each corner of his mouth before leaving an open mouthed kiss right on his lips. You pulled your hand away to place it gently on his leg as you pull yourself closer.

Finally pulling away to catch your breath, you look at Lucifer, who's still holding his eyes tightly shut. Each move you made, made him jump.

"Lucifer, Hey, open up." You laugh as you speak, brushing a few strands of golden hair away from his eyes. "Are you okay? Do you need a break?" His eyes finally shot open hearing your words. The thought of stopping must have startled him. You feel his lips crash against yours, a stark contrast to the gentleness you were giving him moments ago. He shifts to sit on his knees on your bed, keeping himself close to you by propping his hands on either side of your legs. You let out a surprised yelp, quick to catch up with his sloppy kiss. It became more tender as time went on, plus taking the lead again made it a bit easier to control his nervous movements.

His hands moved up to sit on your thighs, mostly to make himself more comfortable at this mildly awkward position. But it still gave you butterflies to feel his hands on you.

You pulled away yet again, taking a moment to breathe and to simply look at his expression. His eyes were watery, possibly from the emotional stress of the past few days, possibly from his excitement alone. You pressed your hand against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm. He tightened his grip on your thighs, as if you could disapear at any moment. And it scared him to consider that a possibility. Your mind finally caught up to the problem at hand, seeing him in this state and considering the heated conversation from before.

You pull him in one final time, a deep kiss that seemed to melt his nerves away. Then, you simply brought him into a tight embrace, your hands wrapping around his shoulders and gripping at his vest. For some reason, this startled him more than any of your previous interactions. He was hesitant at first, but still shifted to comfortably wrap his arms around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.

"This is a big decision, Lucifer. I have alot to think about, and it isnt really your fault, but this definitely doesn't make things easier.." you muffled your words into the crook of his neck letting out a shakey breath. He could feel your chest shake a bit due to your close proximity.

"I know, I'm sorry. I might have gotta a little carried away there." He responded. The position the two of you were in let his words pass dangerously close to your ear. You shutter slightly, unconciously leaning into the sensation.

"I'll make sure this is what I want, okay? I promise."

He nods, which you felt in the form of his hair brushing against the side of your face. Lucifer let his head fall down onto your shoulder, taking in the moment while it lasted.

Because, who knows how long this could last?

♡♡♡

FUCK this was angsty my bad. I had this prompt in my notes for days and I still honestly don't know how to properly end it, but i'll make a part 2 eventually.

Accidentally put a lot of personal insecurities in this one 🙃

Hope you enjoyed :)

P.S I have been getting your requests and i'll start them up soon! Just had to finish this one up first!

[slut4daviii]

character: t.shigaraki

pt: 01/01

cw: face-fucking, praise, degradation, yandere-themes, vibrational quirk, body worship, dark DARK themes, fingering, marathon cumshots, sexual torture, strong submissive/dom themes, sir/daddy kink, hate-fucking

summary: Shigaraki kills [names] gf then kidnaps him, wanting a relationship but gets something much more…pleasurable.

a/n: this shii is straight ass. i jus finally got over my writers block😻. i swear to you guys, the next smut i write will be 100x better. trust me pls.

title: [name]’s BITCH

wc: 1200-1700

────────────────────────

────────────────────────

it was dark.

utter obscurity.

hushed voices whisked around you, echoing into the silent background that was yourself.

you tried to move— tried to undo the bindings around your wrist; they only tightened, burning your skin in an agony you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

you let loose a hiss, somehow putting the whispers to rest. you could feel eyes dart to your body, feel their sting against your revealed skin.

you turned your head away, cursing lightly. ‘where the fuck am I?’ you weren’t asking anyone in particular, just trying to calm your racing nerves.

“finally awake, hm?”

you listened intently, perking your ears to hear better. the voice sound so familiar, as if… you’d known him for years.

“not a talker, huh?”

you continued to listen; trying to make out whom you were speaking with.

“are you mad at me, [name]?”

you gritted your teeth at the question, hissing again at the increased pressure on your wrist.

“oh, please don’t be mad at me [name]! I swear I don’t mean to hurt you! I just couldn’t stand to watch her take you away from me any longer.”

you reeled back, eyes darting aimlessly around the darkness still plaguing your vision.

“I had to do it [name]! if I didn’t, she would’ve took you away from me and became your wife! then you wouldn’t realize how much you need me and not her!”

the words weren’t making sense, ramblings from a person you knew but couldn’t see. through his manic dialogue, you’d figured out one thing— he was the one who killed your girlfriend.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

his mumbling ceased at the sound of your voice. replacing itself with a suppressed moan. “ye—yes sir?”

the words came out jumbled, unformed and quick. breathy and quiet. they made way to your ear, quelling the anger inside of you.

“you killed [gf/name]?” your tone was heavy— deep and rough, sending pleasure running down Shigaraki’s spine.

“she was taking you away from me—! I had to do something to get your attention, please don’t be mad at me!”

you stayed quiet, closing your eyes to slow your breathing.

“s—sir? are you— you mad at me?”

the word ‘sir,’ he kept using it. despite him being in control of the situation. he kept referring to you as the… dominant one; making it clear that he wanted something from you, something that seeing your girlfriend have, made him go crazy with jealousy.

“c’mere.”

Shigaraki moaned softly, his body moving without instruction. he stood over you, awaiting your next command.

“take off this mask and the ropes around my arms”

he hesitated, shaking with anticipation; “b—but sir, you’ll try to le—leave me!” he began begging you, “anything else! please! I’ll do anything for you!”

“anything?”

“yes, yes please! anything!”

“take. off. the mask. and these ropes.”

Shigaraki let out a gasp, sharply inhaling before removing the burlap sack that was attached to your shoulders.

your vision was glared, blurry and unfocused behind the florescent lights overhead. you stared up at Shigaraki, waiting for your vision to clear. when it did, Shigaraki shimmered— his eyes were lined with unspilled tears, his body shivered with emotion, and he looked… ravishing.

“now the ropes.”

tears flooded his face, and an expression of pure despair overtook took him; shoving his pride to unconscious depths.

he did as you said, pulling the ropes from your skin before standing back; waiting for you to leave.

you looked at him, watching at tears ran downwards, falling to his chest. you smirked at this— reaching for his hips and pulling him unto your lap, simultaneously activating your quirk (vibration).

he moaned breathlessly, back arching to a near perfect crescent. “why’re you crying? I haven’t even put it in yet.

before he could answer, you slid your left hand down his back— slipping your fingers into his pants and pass his already prepared hole.

“you’ve already prepared?” you began vibrating your fingers, repeatedly smashing into his prostate.

“GHAK!! [n—name]! yo—you’re nhgk! so fuhgking deeep!”

“oh? do you not like that?” you began thrusting— adding a third in the process. Shigaraki screamed into your neck, cumming instantly.

“ju—just cuhm, came! s—st—stop! too much!”

you tilted your head to the side, smiling up at the fucked out male. “I thought you wanted this? you killed my girlfriend to take her spot right? well now you have it, all to yourself babyboy.”

Shigaraki’s eyes rolled back, his head following suite. you smiled at him, placing your hand on his back and leaning forward to bite his adams’ apple.

his body convulsed, cumming inside his pants once more. “damn, again? usually [gf/name] can last longer, you know? actually make me nut first.”

you withdrew your fingers from him, pushing him onto the floor. he heaved— gasping for air. his body still shook from his previous three orgasms, twitches of pleasure running circles across his nerves.

you laughed, leaning down to grab him by his throat. he went almost completely limp, only smiling as you brought his tear stained face closer to yours.

“do you want daddy’s cum? want me to fuck your face until you pass out?”

Shigaraki eagerly nodded, hands coming up to grasp and grip at your clothed cock. “wan—wanna make s—sir p—proud.”

you felt your cock twitch at his nature— slutty and submissive, a complete 180 of his public figure: cold, heartless, and brutal. you kissed him, passionately swapping your tongue into his mouth.

“open your mouth.”

he obeyed, sticking his tongue out in the process. you grinned and spit into his mouth, “don’t swallow it.” your fingers gripped his neck, digging into the skin, “understand?”

he convulsed, on the verge of another orgasm.

“fucking slut.” your tone was dipped in laughter, mocking his lustrous appearance. you let go of his neck and moved to your own pants— undoing the jaw strings of your sweatpants and pulling out your cock.

Shigaraki looked on with awe, admiring every vein and bulge that lined your beautiful cock. you jerked yourself once or twice, feeling pleasure instantly fill your mind. you looked at Shigaraki through lidded eyes, smirking inward. “you ever taken a dick this big?”

he looked like a bitch in heat: rubbing his thighs together, panting, drool rolling down his chin, eyes glossy and tear-stained.

you clicked your tongue, motioning him closer. he obliged, moving so that your balls were touching his lips.

you lifted his chin, holding your cock at the base. “is it pretty?” he nodded impatiently, sticking his tongue out to lick your tip. “aht aht.” your slapped him with your shaft. one time on the left side of his face, then once on the right. “answer my question first.”

Shigaraki pouted, trying to connect your cock with his tongue. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, slapping your cock on his tongue instead. he moaned endlessly, trying to fit your tip between his lips. “plu—please [name]! fuck me! pound me until I can’t take it! I’m your slut! I’m your slut! pleasee!”

his desperation was evident, making it difficult to keep your composure. yet, you persisted. “how much do you want it?”

Shigaraki groaned, back arching painfully. you tsk’d and grabbed a handful of his hair, shoving your cock into his throat. he choked, spit running down your balls and up your pubes. you pulled him away, giving him a second to breathe before your shoved him back down, going even further— making him take you to your base.

“how much do you want my seed?” you pulled him off and waited for a response.

through spit and drool, he held up his hands, “I’d kill my own family for it! I’d—I’d—I’d leave all for one and the league of villains just for a taste of you! [name], I’d kill myself for your amazing— he began kissing up and down your shaft— beautiful, hard, thick, glorious— he shoved his face into your balls, sucking the skin skillfully— ghod sihzed purfecet dhick!!”

you took pride in what you could do with your cock, and Shigaraki’s begging only intensified your ego.

you pulled his hair, lifting him to your tip. he used his tongue to align it with his mouth, sinking to the base immediately. you sighed blissfully, letting your head fall back, indulging in all the thoughts of what you would do to ‘the king of villains’

you looked down at him, watching as his slid up and down your length, his tongue lapping over even inch of skin and his cheeks hallow enough to pull your soul out.

“what’s your name, Tomura?”

he slowed, coming to your tip with an echoing pop. spit and precum fell from his mouth in an adulterous fashion, a line of spit still connecting him to your tip.

“[name]’s bitch.”

[zablife]

Run From Me Darlin'

Tommy Shelby x female reader (Alfie's wife)

A/N: Taking shelter requested by @thomashelbyswife. Song is "Run from Me" by Timber Timbre. Prompts "I didn't know where else to go." Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Divider credit: @wethairjoel

Warnings: language, mention of infidelity, betrayal Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

The servants at Margate had long since retired when they heard their master's voice echoing throughout the house, along with an eery melody from the ancient piano in the parlor.

"Run from me, darlin' Run, my good wife Run from me, darlin' You better run for your life"

And so you were in that moment, escaping a mad man who had made your life a misery from the moment you said I do. You ran from your seaside home in only your night dress, no possessions or money to your name. It was fear that drove you from him that night as he threatened to kill you.

That's how you found yourself on the doorstep of Tommy Shelby's manor the next morning, your shivering form but a memory of the woman he'd come to know the past five years.

"Y/n, what's happened?" Tommy asked as he ushered you inside and draped a blanket over you.

"I didn't know where else to go," you cried in despair, breaking down the moment you saw his sympathetic sapphire eyes staring back at you.

"You're going to be alright," he assured you, looping a strong arm around your waist for support. "Tell me what he's done," he urged, guiding you to sit on the sofa in his office.

He poured you a drink to steady your nerves and you confided everything. The periods of time you'd been locked in your room because of his suspicions about the two of you, followed by angry and often nonsensical tirades. Your chest heaved with pain and your voice faltered with hiccuped gasps at the horrendous treatment you'd received for over a month.

"How did you manage to escape?" Tommy asked.

"A door left ajar by a new maid," you replied.

Tommy nodded solemnly as he listened, then drained his glass of whisky without answer. He didn't have to because you knew he didn't believe in hurting women, having agreed many times before that his friend's behavior was crossing a line.

As Tommy lightly stroked your hair, you felt compelled to share the threat against him as well, quietly explaining Alfie's plans to crush Shelby Company Limited with his uncle's connection to the opium trade in America. Though you sensed his frustration as his fingers curled into your shoulder, you tried to soften the blow by proposing this as a time of new beginnings. "Run away with me, Tommy," you urged, gazing hopefully into his eyes.

"Leave it to me," he assured, placing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You settled back against him, covering his hand with yours before giving way to exhaustion.

Feeling your body grow heavy with sleep, Tommy called for the housekeeper to look after you. "Frances, take Y/n upstairs and draw a bath," he instructed carefully. "Then prepare the guest room for her. She'll be staying with us tonight."

"Yes, sir," the woman replied, taking you by the hand with such gentle ease, you began to weep.

"Oh, my dear," she gasped as she guided you upstairs. "Don't worry, Mr. Shelby will set it right." And you couldn't help but believe the promise in her voice.

Downstairs Tommy paced his office in agitation before finally tossing his glass against the fireplace in anger. As the shards of glass fell at his feet, he tried not to picture your beatific face crumbling. In fact, he tried not to think of you at all as he raised the receiver to his ear.

"What the fuck do you want?" Alfie grumbled.

Tommy traced the phone cord, thinking of all the times his so-called friend had betrayed him and how fitting it would be to humiliate him by stealing his wife forever. However, the notion of partnering together to control the opium trade abroad was far more enticing.

"How is your uncle in Boston?" he asked.

Alfie huffed out a laugh as he asked, "And why are you so concerned about the state of my family this evening?"

Tommy didn't have to say your name, it was implied the moment he began to negotiate. "You'd exchange my wife for access to Boston, would ya?" Alfie sneered with a knowing grin.

"I would," Tommy answered without hesitation.

And that's how the deal was made late one September afternoon as you soaked in the bath, quite unaware you would be reunited with your husband the following morning.

You had one last peaceful slumber before realizing you'd been sold out, exiting Arrow House kicking and screaming against the men your husband sent to punish you.

"I thought you loved me. How could you do this?" you cried when you glimpsed Tommy's somber face waiting in the drive.

Motioning for the men to let you go, Tommy welcomed you into his open arms as he whispered, "It's not personal, it's business."

You wanted to fight him, but instead you pleaded for your life. "Have mercy," you begged against his lips when he offered one last passionate kiss. A glimmer of promise was restored in that moment as you swore you felt his muscular frame give way into yours. However, you underestimated the strength of his resolve. One look into his icy blue eyes told you, he would never claim you as his own.

"Run," Tommy urged you under his breath, waiting for Alfie's men to give chase.

As he watched you flee toward the open field where he kept his horses, he hoped your swinging gate would prevail. Swallowing hard at the sight of his betrayal, he loathed the man he had become.

"Run for your life," he whispered, knowing it was already too late.

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