#The same way I was the heiress before

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Danny is 18, and is on the run from Vlad, who wanted to reattempt his cloning plot. In order to do that, he had to see why Dani was the only cloning that managed to survive. Sam, Tucker,the Fentons and Jazz are dead

So he kidnapped her, and in the process, Dani deaged to an infant. Currentlyx they were both nearing Gotham, and, the GIW were on their tail

Danny made it all the way to Bristol before he had to stash Dani in a alley and deal with the GIW agents

Danny doesn’t return.

An hour later Thomas and Martha Wayne were out for a walk with their one month old son when the heat faint cries of a baby from an alley.

They enter the alley and see an infant girl wrapped in a blanket covered with stars. Her only belongings were a green thermos, vials of bright green liquid and a red beanie with the name ‘Danielle Jane’ scrawled on it.

Normally they would’ve reported this to the police, but everyone knew that the police was corrupted and the fosters homes were horrible.

Besides, there was something about the girl that seemed… otherworldly.

So, the took her in.

Teh next week, the Gotham Gazette was printing papers with the front page ‘Wayne family reveals female twin, Danielle Jane Wayne!’

They had pretended that Danielle was the twin that they didn’t know about until the due date and she came out sickly, so the doctors kept her in the hospital until she recovered.

As they grew up, Dani and Bruce were inseparable, with Dani not remembering her halfa side and Bruce not knowing they weren’t twins. They looked similar enough anyway.

All that change when the twins were 8. Thomas and Martha died, and the pain, shock and grief triggered Dani’s memories of being a halfa. The death kick started Bruce’s quest for vengeance (Dani wouldn’t seek vengeance, she couldn’t, not after Dan)

They began to drift apart. Bruce didn’t tell her about his vigilante plans and Dani didn’t tell him about her halfa status.

By the time they were 19 and Bruce dropped out of collage, they both began traveling. Bruce to train, Dani to have fun.

Dani continued traveling when Bruce returned, promising to visit. Eventually Gotham forgot about the Wayne Heiress, especially as Batman appeared and Bruce adopted more children. Bruce also forgot to tell his kids about their ‘bio’ aunt

There are a couple ways the Batkids could find out about Dani

- Bruce gets lost in the Time stream and Alfred was deemed too old to get custody and Dick was deemed too young. No one knows what to do now, until Alfred calls in Dani, who arrives and immediately gets custody, reminding Gotham that she exists.

- a batkid is cleaning out the attic/empty rooms as a punishment and finds the Fenton thermos, ecto vials, and baby blanket.

Batkid (probs Dick): Bruce why do you have Lazarus pit water in your attaric??

Everyone: …

Bruce: … what?

Alfred: ah, those are your sisters

Bruce: where did Dani get Lazarus water? She hasn’t been at the Manor in years

Batkids: …we have an aunt???

Alfred: Martha and Thomas found her in an alley with those belongings. She seems to have forgotten to collect them. I shall give her a call.

Bruce: …Dani isn’t my twin sister?

Batkids: YOU HAVE A TWIN??!?

Bruce: WELL APPARENTLY NOT @jc-llex

- Bruce and the JLA are breaking into a GIW facility to get evidence for a murder (a collage boy named Daniel Fenton) and found Dani breaking in at the same time

-Dani ends up dating a JLA member and said member introduces her to the team (bonus points if it’s Hal or Diana)

- SO MUCH ANGEST AND CRACK AND FLUFF COULD BE FIT UNTO THIS PROMPT D O Y O U S E E T H E V I S I O N ? ? ?

[luludeluluramblings]

One thing I always wonder in Neglected! Reader scenarios that I haven’t seen anyone explore is Married/Single Mom! Reader. It’s drama and angst potential.

Like Reader having a boyfriend and getting pregnant while still living in the Wayne manor, and everyone just takes a little too long to figure out. Maybe they do find out early with the morning sickness and whatnot but the thought of Bruce looking at Reader like 6 months pregnant and being like “Wait a minute… 🤨” and Reader wasn’t even trying to hide it that much.

And same scenario except Reader moved out either while pregnant or got pregnant after, Batfam forgets all about them and when fate does bring them together (like the Bruce/Selina wedding concept) she is literally about to pop or has a whole baby with her. Cue Bruce (and later everyone else) losing his shit because omg??? 😧 that’s his first grandchild and he had no idea!!

… And then if the Reader is married in this scenario, makes it all the more complicated (she didn’t invite anyone to her wedding? what do you mean Alfred attended when we had no idea?). Everyone is straight up hostile towards her spouse (Damian, Bruce and Jason are insufferable) and safe to say he won’t be around for long. Single mom Reader though, the amount of emotional manipulation about kids needing a family and father figures and you should move back in so everyone can help with the baby… Yeah.

Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x SugarBaby!Reader x Older!Husband

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N:OOOOO, I have something I was working on that I was having fun with that you might like!

A/N:Neglected!Reader with Older!Husband. (It's husband because it's based of that meme Your daughter calls me daddy, too. And, Reader is Female, because we're making a baby in here.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You, sweet thing, do the typical thing and run off from home, once you turn the legal age. Checking in with Alfred on occasion, but just living your best life. Only, in typical fashion, all those years of neglect lead to severe daddy issues. And, a minor itty bitty attraction to older men.

You get lucky though because you manage to find a fine one that loves to spoil his baby girl with vacations and spa days. All the best for his baby. He loves taking you places and showing you a good time. So, it's no wonder he plans a Babymoon for you when you're expecting your first child. Anything for you.

Unfortunately, Daddy gets called into work right before the vacation. And, despite you insisting you stay, he makes you go and promises to join you as soon as possible.

(No, the man isn't cheating. He just gotta make the money for his baby.)

You have a good time, pregnant on the beach. Getting massages and spa treatments. Video calling your husband every time the baby kicks and flutters.

Unfortunetly, even though you haven't used the Wayne name since you've been married, some drug lords recognize you and decide to ransom you. Dragging you back to Gotham in your little sundress the just so hides your baby bump.

Gotham media runs with the story. Lost Wayne heiress held hostage. No one is ignoring that.

The bat's pull off a daring rescue, but you being stubborn, try to escape on your own. Fearing for your baby's life if they just happen to chose not to come. They never came when you were little, why would they come now.

You happen to injure yourself while escaping. But, manage to make it to an on scene ambulance while the Bats take care of the thugs. You happen to faint on the way to the hospital, leaving the doctor's discover you pregnancy.

Already the media is surrounding the hospital for the most drama filled story of the year. Thankfully, the paramedics have some compassion in hide the bump when rolling you into the ER.

With the media's attention, your husband flies into Gotham and makes it to the hospital just in time to ask the nurse where you are in front of Bruce.

Bruce, of course, bristles when a man his age burst in the hospital demanding to see you, but is using the wrong last name. The nurse saying only family can see you.

"That's my daughter," Bruce will say. Assuming this man is trying to claim you as his. But, he already did.

Making Bruce, the family, the nurses, the patients, and the reporter who managed to sneak in freeze when he says, "That's my wife."

Imagine the doctor that just finished checking on you and your baby walking in right after announcing that you were both okay. The look on Bruce's face when he realizes that this man, his age, not only married you, but had the audacity to put a baby in you.

Even better, the smug way your husband looks at Bruce when he brushes past him to follow the nurse to your room because husband beats father and you demanded to see him.

The drama that follows is going to be legendary.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I had this idea jotted down and fluffed it up just for this. I'm not sure you wanna know who I had in mind for Reader's husband. (Dude is from another franchise.) But, the thought of him interacting with Bruce as the guy who married Bruce's daughter and knocked her up, delights me in such a visceral way.

[bitchlessdino]

Killer Courtship (m)

Pairing: divorce lawyer!jihoon x ex fiance!fem!reader Genre:��crime, angst, smut Word count: 25.9k rating: R tags: Ft. Seungkwan, brother in law!seungkwan, mentions of crime/murder, mentions of blood, murder suspect!reader, murder suspect!reader, mentions of controlling parents, heiress!reader, divorce lawyer!jihoon, college au, domestic au, unwanted touches, unprotected sex, oral sex Summary: It you were lucky enough in love, you'd end the doomed engagement before it stirs up in inevitable divorce. If you were unlucky, however, you'd end up going to your divorce attorney ex for a different marriage you're trying to get out of. Bonus points if you're a murder suspect. author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading i always love and appreciate your help. part of DON'T HATE, LITIGATE Collabe hosted by @/Haologram. everyone else enjoy and sorry for the drought 🥲

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

The happiest you’ve ever been…

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be Mrs. Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckles at your whimsy before shielding your eyes with his palm, drawing the heat away from the sun. “How long are you gonna look at that thing?”

You let your simple band bestowed on your ring finger gleam in the sunlight, turning your hand over and back with no rest. “Oh, this is gonna be my personality for… the end time.”

“For the end of time?”

“For the end of time.”

He conjures an impressed expression, gently tracing over the curve of your jaw. “That’s a very long time.”

You place your hand over his, beaming up at your now fiancé. “And yet it’s still not enough. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

He shares the same sentiment, but still he asks, “Why?”

Your hand reaches out to touch his face, feeling how tangible he is, how real he is. The man of your dreams, the reason you breathe, the embodiment of everything amazing and wonderful is in your grasp, looking in admiration at you the way you are at him. You gush, his smile making you feel more elated than the giddiest of schoolchildren. Meanwhile, your heart moves in a steadily growing rhythm, and you don’t think you could be more happy until you’re at the aisle walking towards this same man. “I never thought I’d meet someone that could want me so much. Especially you. And now I can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

His eyes soften, gently stroking the side of your head. He bends down to meet your lips that naturally fits his mold, tasting each other as you’ve done a million times, and yet are never sick of. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Your eyes bat slowly back at him, swallowing the breath you take as you take in everything for all it is. “I always will.”

Present day…

The clock hands tick away as if taunting the young lawyer’s last moments. He twirls a pen between his fingers, finalizing the last case for the hour before the annoying clock inevitably strikes 6 PM, his quitting hour if he can help it. 

For the last few years, Jihoon has done nothing but work past the last work hour to make ends meet, but today is the day he’ll leave on time for once. No buts, ands, or ifs. No exceptions.

Fifteen minutes and going. He’s gonna make it. He’s so sure, that he even let the office aide head home early so she can tend to her kids and useless husband. She deserves it, much like Jihoon deserves this. A proper end of the day. 

Five Minutes. Everything is looking flawless. He’s looking front and back, left and right, electrically and manually handling everything to avoid errors. He’s going to make it. He’s going to make it.

One minute. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and he’s betting on it being Cheryl, the office aid, so he can scold her for going against his orders but not really. He appreciates her too much and knows she has it rough. 

Despite the guest being unwelcome—“Come in. This better be good,” he shouts from his desk.

The knob turns reluctantly, anxiously even, and Jihoon still has not looked up from his desk to check who it is because there is not a single person he could think of that would be worth overtime. Despite that, he knows he's not looking forward to whatever case is being thrown his way, judging by their inconsiderate choice of timing.

“Hello, my name is Lee Jihoon, Family Law attorney at large. How may I help you today during the very late work hour…?”

When he finally lifts his gaze from the desk, he sees the source of the disruption. All thoughts are suddenly out of the window. His legs move before his mind catches up, pushing him upright as awe anchors his gaze. Slowly, he removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose, narrowing his focus on the figure before him. Is it his eyes deceiving him—or his mind—that conjures this painfully familiar mirage standing just out of reach?

“Hi, Jihoon.” You finally say, a soft smile on your beautifully aged face. “I’m sorry for coming so late. I needed assistance as soon as I could, and I just came out from work.”

“Hey, you.” Great start there, big guy. “How are you here?”

“Well,” you point your thumb over to the obvious, “the door to start.”

“Ha, yeah. I mean what brings you in,” he asks slowly, putting back on his glasses and settling down in his chair before gesturing to you to do the same in one of the seats in front of him.

“Well,” you begin settling in the leather of the chair, “I want a divorce.”

Well. Those are never words he thought to hear from your mouth. And he never thought he’d be on the other end relieved to hear them. Fuck it.  Another late night it is.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” he replies with the utmost sympathy, hiding the hint of interest threatening to slip through his tone. This is his first love after all, god forbid he isn’t still a little in love with them, and happy to hear they’re looking to be back on the market again.

Your hands settle on your thighs, acknowledging his gesture with an incoherent mumble before meeting his eyes, remembering how beautiful they always looked gazing back at you. “Yeah, well it was a long time coming. The marriage lasted a lot longer than it should’ve.”

“I bet.” Jihoon quickly catches himself, “I mean, a lot of clients feel that way, but before any big decisions, I should ask you the standard questions I always ask potential clients before we proceed.”

“Of course,” you amicably agree. “Do what you need to, Hoon.” You’re now the one catching yourself, finding yourself calling the familiar nickname you called your ex-boyfriend/fiancé. “I mean Jihoon. Mr. Lee? Attorney Lee?”

“Please stop. It hurts to watch.” He teases, crinkling his nose with a feigned look of cringe, but smiling like a man who feels otherwise.

You playfully roll your eyes. “Okay, okay. Lay it on me.”

Jihoon asks you the typical questions. Living arrangements? Presence of children? Assets? Reasons for divorce? And any heavier topics that he wouldn’t ask otherwise unless put in the situation. Then again it was you. He’d probably learn all there he needs to know to have you safe.

He’s pleased to learn that no children were involved, and you’ve been living at your summer home away from your husband for a few months now; and it’s a no-fault divorce, but he knows that already. That was a good sign for him already. Assets, however—

“You kind of know the gist, having been there at the beginning. I was inclined to marry him, and if I didn’t, risk future inheritance and be possibly shunned from my family until the end of time. The divorce would bring that all come to fruition with the prenup. Doesn’t help that he has the same deal with his parents, so there’s been a little friction with that, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need their money. I just want out.”

He taps his pen against his notes, earnestly analyzing the words from front to back. “Hmm, it’d be useful if you’d bring it the next time you visit. Hopefully during working hours this time? Like lunch or something.” He hints and feels the regret seep in as the guilt washes over your face.

“I really am sorry again.” You make yourself small in your seat, squeezing your thighs tightly together as you bow your head. “God, I’m treating you like a therapist.”

He waves his hand reassuringly. “It’s alright. What’s divorce attorney ex-fiancés good for if not to help out their ex with their divorce and listen to their marital issues?”

You break out in a smile, shaking your head as your cheeks fail to deflate. “It really is so good to see you.”

“You too. You look good.” The weight of his words is damning, dripping with longing poorly masked by his professional disposition. He feels his role as lawyer that he’s worked at for several years slips away in a matter of seconds as his eyes take in every atom of you.

The simple words heat up your cheeks, and his shameless gaze knocks the wind out of your lungs, all the familiar feelings rushing back. “You look good.”

He savors your saccharine tone as it makes his blood rush down in places he wouldn’t dare mention in front of a client, even you. He hides his impatience behind his desk, gripping the edges to support and restrain himself from crossing the lines that take him out of a rational mind. “So, how did you find me?”

“Excuse me.” You cross your arms with a warped smile. “You probably have one of the most common names in existence. ‘Lee Jihoon?’ I’d have to look through hundreds—if not thousands—of them to find you.”

“Well, did you?”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of excited seeing your face on the website.”

Jihoon has to remember to thank Wonwoo, who insisted on taking his work profile picture for him, later. “I make you excited? Well, Miss, I may be arranging your divorce, but you are still married. Find some self-control.”

“Shut. Up.” You attempt to feign sternness, but your smile deceives you, almost inviting the banter the lawyer incited. 

“Make me.”

You stare back at him for a moment, watching the flirtatious challenge ooze from his eyes in a familiar way, which stirs something in you that you haven’t felt in a long time. Its lightheartedness starts to burn hotter, turning your stomach and deflating your chest as you expel a faint breath.

“I…should go,” you respond, breathless. You pick up your purse and turn away, a sly grin tugging at your lips as you toss the next words over your shoulder. “Lunch tomorrow it is. I’ll bring the paperwork.”

“And I’ll be here,” he bids with a salute, which he quickly regrets as soon as you leave.

Jihoon feels compelled the following day to dress in his best office attire, well-tailored but not trying too hard, and spritz a cologne he thought he threw away a long time ago along with the relationship that came with it. Its familiar notes fill him with a warm sensation. The kind that tightens his chest and tenses his muscles that cling to the fabric of his clothes. And he knows that when he checks himself every few minutes in the bathroom mirror or the reflection off the glass of his office room window—making sure it emphasizes just how much he’s been building his body to be at peak physique while simultaneously watching the time slowly tick until his appointment.

When you finally arrive, you carry a certain demeanor that makes him feel twenty again, as if you had just stepped out of class to see him waiting for you to walk you to your next one. You're perfect in your perfect blouse and perfectly tight pencil skirt. It makes him take a breath, loosening the grip on his tie to lessen the strain. “Hello, Miss Client.”

“Hello, Mr. Lawyer,” you lightly greet back.

Jihoon chuckles, waving you over. “So, what are you craving while we work on things? Lunch on me.”

You talk shop over gyudon, a meal that immediately comes to mind, and fortunately, a good and quick spot is just nearby. It reminds you both of something you would eat together religiously back then. To this day, Jihoon sometimes can’t pick up a piece of shredded beef topped with caramelized onions without picturing you parallel to him doing the same.

He knows he’d be crazy to admit out loud that it is straight out of a dream to be eating lunch with you again, but it is. Even more surreal that you’ve now become a client in a case that caused your breakup in the first place. 

Before the breakup…

To say Jihoon felt drawn to you instantly the first time you met was the understatement of the century.

But before you, he only knew the law. Having grown up with Criminal Minds and SVU, he knew since his pubescence he was going to be a lawyer. No tragic backstory of a relative dying from a crime. No story of him or someone else being almost convicted. He just simply thought that to be in the hands of someone's fate in the courtroom was not only intriguing but dangerous. A power not to be taken lightly.

It became his whole life and the only thing he’d ever thought about doing ever. So, he did the only rational thing he could do: he studied his ass off every minute of his life if he wanted to pass the bar one day.

That is, until a little distraction like you came along. At the ripe age of twenty years old, Jihoon met someone who would one day change the trajectory of his life. Someone just as important as becoming a lawyer was. He didn’t think that was possible for someone as ambitious and driven as him. Distractions came rare to him. There was never space for a romantic subplot in his story.

He mentally thanked his former roommate, Soonyoung, everyday for taking the last afternoon slot for the required Psychology course. If he hadn’t, he wouldn't have been forced to take the morning classes, the same morning classes that you ended up attending. 

He wouldn’t have gotten to occupy the seat next to yours every day for all of the semester, having the habit of getting to know you and learning things about you that he would’ve otherwise ignored about anyone else. Like how you prefer iced coffee no matter how below freezing temperature it was, or how your fingers curl and crunch up anxiously before giving a presentation—the little things.

And he most certainly wouldn’t have given in to the pressure of asking you out if he hadn’t gotten to know you in the class the way he did. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would’ve had the courage to approach you. A blessing in disguise shaped in the form of a breathtaking human being. And for some crazy reason, you said yes, because you liked him back. Gosh, his heart was soaring that day. He finally understood what butterflies in one's stomach meant.

What had started as a budding infatuation, blossomed into an epic love story for the ages—well, at least he liked to think so. He knew he’d remember and relive this period of his life for as long as he was alive. There was nothing like being in love.

And what was crazy to him was that you liked him as much as he liked you. The way you’d look at him as if he held the universe in the palms of his hands, or how tight you’d hold him when he would pull you towards his chest and lock you in a secure embrace. It’s as if the world faded around you—or maybe, you just became his world.

Before he realized it, you had become just as much a part of his life as his studies were, if not more. It pivoted his life in a path he never planned for, and strangely enough, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the route you were taking him in. Whatever life had to throw, he’d be ready if you were by his side.

And that’s how it was for the first couple of years. You spent every waking moment together, every meal, every lecture, everything that mattered. With you, everything seemed to matter. And that’s how he ended up proposing too; that day during a picnic with the sunniest of skies under the biggest tree in the park with the cheesiest smile on his face. He was truly the luckiest man he knew.

God, did he love you. And god, did you love him. 

But something changed shortly after the proposal. Drastically.

You had been distant with Jihoon for reasons he couldn’t explain, but he’s never been one to pry, so he'd given you your space, even when you never asked for it. He respected boundaries and would never make you give up yours for the sake of his comfort, so he waited.

Maybe that’s when it started. When he didn't fight for your attention. He wonders if that’s where things started going wrong.

Unlike you, Jihoon isn’t one for confrontation, but if you want him to burn the world, in a heartbeat he would. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, he just needs to hear it. It’d be anything.

“I can’t marry you,” you say in a quiet voice.

Almost anything.

You push your engagement ring towards Jihoon, unable to meet his eyes, as dark clouds hover above your head.

Jihoon gulps, choking on a breath he’s been holding since you called him over for this lunch date. He’s thinking things are just turning around, that you’d stop avoiding him like you have been. Then this hurdle–hurricane is thrown in his face.

And he knows exactly why. 

After he proposed, he met your parents for the first time, your parents who lived in a different world than he ever could. They didn’t approve of your choice of a partner given his inferior background. They didn’t approve of this marriage. They didn’t approve of Jihoon. They had other plans in mind for their one and only daughter. Bigger, grander plans than Jihoon could ever fathom.

Since then, hope seemed lost. However, you thought you could convince them. Jihoon put his faith in you, because why wouldn’t he? He’s madly in love with you. He trusts you. He knows that you did the best you could.

“Didn’t budge, huh?” he asks with a bitter smile. 

You sigh, before running your hands over your face in frustration. “You know it’s not your fault. They’re so stubborn about me marrying to preserve the company. Why should it be my responsibility? I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Your eyes flit to meet his, barely staying open. “If I had it my way—“

“But you don’t,” he cuts off.

“Hoon.”

He holds your hand in his, his thumb caressing over your naked knuckles. He swallows back a laugh of disbelief. He knew that happiness couldn’t have been that easy and within reach. Finally, he looks back at you and brings your hands towards his lips, kissing the balls of your palms as a single tear falls from the corner of his eye. “I love you. You make me the happiest person alive. And I want to marry you…but if our worlds are tearing us apart…”

The image of the man you love crying rips you to shreds, the agonizing pain stretching throughout your entire body, and you move towards him and you take him in your arms. Your lips quiver, letting out a shattered breath, feeling his tears now soaking through the cotton of your shirt. You don’t know what else to say at this moment except, “I love you, Jihoon.”

Present day…

“Okay, the prenup settles pretty much most of what we’re looking for, so the process will luckily be pretty straightforward.”

“Okay,” you nod in acknowledgment. “Like I thought. How long of a process is it going to be?”

Jihoon hums, tapping his pen to his chin. “Depends on the talk with his attorney. It'll be a clean and quick process if they're anything like me.”

You can’t help but smile. “No one’s like you, Hoo—Jihoon.”

He grins, catching your slip-up. “Well, one can hope.”

You press your lips in a firm line, your ears growing warm as you gather your files, tapping them on the desk to line them up in a neat stack. “Well, this was really helpful. Thank you for taking time out of your lunch to do this. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Anything for a friend.”

A light dims in your eyes, and your grip on the belongings tighten. “Right. Well, I’ll talk to him about the situation, and we’ll set up an appointment so we can all meet. I’ll let you know.”

“I look forward to it,” he responds earnestly.

Finally, Jihoon would be able to meet the bastard that your parents thrust upon you face to face. 

He wants to assume that now and in the past your husband is just like you, forced upon this marriage for the sake of appearance and business ties. However, the more he spends time, how little you speak of him, the more he notices how you grow stiff when he’s audibly brought up, implying a strained relationship. That guy has already lost Jihoon’s good graces by that alone.

“Thank you. So what can we do in the meantime?”

“You make your plans moving forward as a single woman. Get your things in order, and that includes your personal matters, like your family that I assume are involved.”

You stiffen, nodding at the sad reminder. “Yeah. They are. Thank you for lunch.”

As you begin to leave, Jihoon can’t help but stop you in your tracks. He knows if he doesn’t say what is on his mind now he’ll regret it, unwilling to make the same mistakes he did in the past. “Hey, um. If you’re looking for more advice regarding this matter or what to expect after this whole ordeal, my office is always open during lunch hours. For you anyways.”

You give him a soft frown, shaking your head. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“No, really,” he insists, not taking no for an answer, a touch of plead in his eyes. “I think with you around it’s the only way I actually eat during lunch.”

The corners of your lips finally turn up, tugging at Jihoon’s heartstrings and eating him up from the inside. “Then, maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

There is a certain comfort in the routine, knowing there’s something to look forward to every weekday at noon between the hours of 11:45AM to 12:55PM. You inevitably have to go back to your office, but Jihoon looks forward to those hours now, watching the hands of the clock tick by until lunchtime. It’s a game he’s started to play by himself, somehow always the loser with a big grin on his face when you’re right at the front of his door and the same loser with a sad smile when you have to leave.

“That’s so you. I can’t believe you still listen to that stuff.” Jihoon chuckles, stabbing at his teriyaki chicken pieces before stuffing them in his mouth.

“Oh, of course I do! These are real! Cut-throat! Blood-thirsty murder-cases! Most of the time involving women. That could be me one day. Can never be too safe,” You playfully warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

“Maybe, but you come from one of the wealthiest families in the country and married into one of the other wealthiest families in the country. You no doubt have a near impenetrable security system keeping you very locked up and safe in your very nice big home.”

“Which makes me an even bigger target. Ah-ha. Didn’t think about that, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, grinning ear to ear. “Fine. But what does that have to do with crocheting again?”

Your eyes light up, giddily clapping your hands at his reminder. “It’s really nice—well, nice isn’t really the right word—but I listen to it when I'm crocheting. I once made a whole blanket listening to an entire season about a missing person’s case that turned out to be a missing people's case.”

“Of course, you did.”

You get a quick glance at your phone when you grab your drink, seeing a notification pop up to reveal the time. “Oh shoot, I have to head back.”

“Already?” Jihoon tries not to sound too disappointed.

“Yeah. Sorry. It feels like these lunch hours are getting shorter and shorter every day.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be just lunch. We can always get dinner—to talk more about the process and what your next steps can be. How about tonight? Unless that’s too soon?”

You blink back at him, unable to suppress the growing smile on your face. “S-sure. I’ll meet you at your office?”

”Actually, I thought of picking you up at yours?”

With a gentle hum, you nod. “It’s a date.”

So he waits, watching the clock's hands tick until it reaches the hour that indicates the end of the day. He has something he’s looking forward to, giving him all the more reason to take advantage of the extra suits in his office wardrobe for emergencies. Something that has only ever used to be for emergencies, not if he feels like the color navy brings out his eyes more today. But tonight, he has the excuse to look his sharpest, unsure if he’ll ever get this opportunity again.

He can’t help the smile on his face as you walk out of your office building, pushing himself off his car to completely take in your presence as if he hadn’t just seen you hours ago. Resembling someone watching their prom date dramatically descend a flight of stairs, Jihoon feels his chest squeeze as you walk closer before standing in front of him, and every date you’ve gone on flashes through his mind, leading up to this very moment.

“Hi.” he softly greets.

“Hey,” you greet back, taking a step closer.

”Ready?” he asks, and a nod is all he needs before you lose yourselves in the night.

You explore deeper in the center of the city, sauntering the streets aimlessly as you look for a spot to situate yourself, somewhere you could talk and enjoy each other‘s presence without interruption. As if someone heard your pleas, a cafe catches your attention off in the distance, its white fluorescent sign flickering its bold cursive back at you, beckoning you towards it. And as you turn to Jihoon, his expression matches yours, knowing you’ve found just the place.

Once the door swings open, Jihoon is immediately hit with the aroma of freshly ground coffee brewed to perfection. Its nutty sweet scent dances in the air as sweet, fruity notes linger nearby. Nostalgia hits him in an instant, and he recalls a younger version of himself with you by his side feeding him a sip of your devilish concoction of a strawberry mocha with two shots of espresso. The disdain on his face was evident, when he kissed your lips, it was a different world. It was tolerable, or maybe everything you had to offer made him infinitely love you more.

“Oh my god,” he quietly whispers to himself.

“Jihoon?”

He jolts back into reality, your beautiful face warped as your eyes scans over him with concern. “Sorry. I think I got lost in a moment there.”

You curiously narrow your eyes, following after him as he entered the cafe. “Really? What happened?”

“Let’s sit first. What’ll you have?”

After retrieving your drink order, Jihoon glances at the drink in your hand, saddened that you opted for a plain americano over your college usual. It was about every other day that you’d order one, and to this day he wonders how you’re alive and kicking with thousands of calories you consumed from that beverage alone. It seems things have changed since, and he’s unsure whether it's for the better, but it gave him all the more reason to order it for himself. Although he hated it in the past, maybe he'd like it now.

“Blech!” Nope. Still awful.

You muse at his disgusted expression. “Oh my god, Jihoon. What did you order?”

“Don’t recognize it?” He lifts up the drink, licking up the whipped cream from the corner of his lips. “Your famous strawberry mocha.”

“You remember that? You hated that drink!”

“Yeah, but,” he holds the drink close to his chest, as if cherishing it. “You liked it. Why don’t you anymore?”

“It’s not that I don't, it's just…so bad for me.” You grip your Americano loosely, gulping at the decadent visuals of the nostalgic drink in his hand. “I can’t have something like that all the time.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon sips the drink as you explain yourself, making faces as he listens in. You narrow your eyes at him, the corner of your lips turning down before you give him a disciplinary tap to the shoulder.

“Stop drinking it!”

“I paid for it. I’ll do what I want.”

You groan, shoving the untouched Americano and stealing the strawberry mocha for yourself. “There. Now everyone’s happy.”

“Who said I wanted an Americano?” He retorts with a smile, happy to see his previous beverage right where it belongs.

“You definitely don’t want the mocha.”

“I do though.”

You roll your eyes, softly scoffing and giving him a wry smile. “You’re so stubborn. It's written all over your face how much you hate it.”

“But you like it,” he retorts, sipping his new Americano, somehow missing the conflicting taste of his previous beverage.

You cover your hot cheeks with the palm of your hand, eyes pointed away from him as the sound of your accelerating heart pounds against your ear drums. You start to wonder to yourself how this man at damn near thirty years is still as cute as he was at twenty years old. 

“You really haven't changed.”

He snorts. “You insulting me?

“Not at all.” Chuckling, you sip your newly acquired drink, the clash of the bitter coffee and sickly sweet fruity syrup battling on your taste buds. It may have been more of your tastes back in college. “So that moment you had. What was that about?”

“Moment?”

“You stopped all of a sudden when we came through the front door. It was like a lightbulb went off in your head or something.”

He softly smiles, taking small sips of his drink, warmth rushing toward his cheeks in contrast to the chilled beverage wrapped with his slender digits. “Something like that?”

You tilt your head, “Hmm?”

He hesitates, avoiding your gaze. “I…just suddenly thought about back then…when we were together honestly. It was nothing.”

You suck in your teeth dubiously, smiling with your eyes. “Sure didn’t seem that way.”

“It made me happy,” he admits earnestly, his voice coated in something reminiscent of honey, so decadent, you feel the strong desire to taste more.

“The memory?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a faint smile, “A lot of things you did make me happy.”

Your lips part as you drink in his response, whatever words you were about to say next dying on your tongue as you take a long nervous sip of your stolen beverage, cheeks ablaze. You watch as the blood rushes towards his cheeks, flushing them a soft pink as he leisurely sips his newly acquired drink, stealing glances at you.

Jihoon finds it nice to divulge his past once in a while, but he doesn’t have many people to do that with, and the person he wants to do it the most with for the longest time was married and out of his life. But even if he did talk about his past, that meant having to confront the obstacles he jumped, the losses that were out of his control, and the pain that he endured only to end up the loser. Now, he doesn’t have to be scared anymore. You’re back. Back in his life and hopefully for good whether it is as a friend, or employer and employee, he’ll take it.

“This was really nice.”

Jihoon hums in agreement. “Yeah, kinda felt like we were back in college again.”

You chuckle, turning to him as you reach towards the steps of your residence. It was a lot different than the dorms from back then. Yet, you can’t help but understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah. It’s funny. You’d always walk me back to my apartment too, even though yours was in the opposite direction.”

“And it was worth it,” he retorts, stubbornly. “Because I got to see you get inside safely. The distance didn’t matter to me.”

“And you wouldn’t take my gas money.” You pout, tugging on his sleeve.

“No, I didn’t.” He shakes his head, accepting your hand in his and finding them naturally interlock. “Not when I can pay for myself just fine.”

“So I would invite you inside, let you have a drink—or three.”

Jihoon chuckles, reminded of his coke zero habit that you’d always indulge with a splash of rum. “And…” he steps closer towards you, closing the distance. “I’d end up staying over longer than I expected to.”

You lightly grasp the lapel of his coat, eyes glossing over his appearance. “And I didn’t mind it one bit.”

Your gaze drifts off to his lips, softly puckering as they part. Your chest heaving, you feel yourself drawing closer. Jihoon’s warmth is a tempting mistress before he holds you in place, startling you as he puts a halt to your movements. Your eyes shoot back at him, rapid panic in your eyes, disappointment seeping through you.

“That might be a bad idea,” he warns, but not backing away.

Your hands creep up his neck. “When have we ever let that stop us?”

He lightly scoffs, able to name once—the last instance you were together. It emerges, memories that he can’t help but twist up his heart that’s been stretched and pummeled until past recognition. He has to be realistic. “We’re a little older now and…you’re still technically married.”

“We’ve spent the better half of a decade avoiding each other because we were scared of the consequences. We don’t have to be scared anymore. I haven’t seen you in years, and I still feel the way I did all those years ago. Tell me you don’t.”

“You know I…” His words die on his lips. It’s obvious what he wants. He wants you. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

Your hands caress over the nape of his neck, and the hairs of his neck stand stiff as goosebumps pebble his skin. “You what, Jihoon?”

His eyes flutter in disbelief, melting against your touch as he succumbs to your warmth, the world around him fading. The only drinks he had tonight night were of the nonalcoholic variety, but staring back at you, he feels drunk, feening for a taste of something else right in front of him. “Want you more than anything.”

When his lips crash against yours, he can feel your heart leap from your chest, air pushing against his lungs. The heat that radiates off your body envelopes him despite the biting cold winds, flustering his cold cheeks as he feels you kiss him back. He takes a deep breath, reveling in the silken sensation of your lips, searing against his as his hand falls into your hair.

He isn’t sure if he knew how it felt to kiss you again, but it was muscle memory. From the way you drag him by his coat collar, slipping through the thick fabric to find the warm body underneath, he knows nothing is coming back from this. And even if there is, he doesn’t want it if it doesn’t have you.

You both barely make it up the steps of the house after hearing how one of you haphazardly closes the automated locking door, and he follows your footsteps to a room of your choosing, knowing he’ll follow you anywhere. 

The large coat is tugged immediately off of him, hearing it thud on the ground, you make his sweater follow suit. You grapple at the seams of his dress shirt, gingerly unlatching one button at a time, and Jihoon’s lips find your neck, burying himself in the crook, rendering you speechless as he tastes your flustered skin. Meanwhile, his hands roam over your figure through your clothes before the skirt becomes as useful as his coat as he shoves it down your thighs and lets it fall to your ankles to be kicked aside.

Your flesh spills between his fingers, kneading your ass between his knuckles, and he feels your moan vibrate in your throat against his lips. Jihoon sighs, familiarizing with the ache and longing of your voice as he lifts you from the ground to wrap your legs around his torso, nudging his excitement against lower abdomen.

He presses you against a wall, his hand cushioning the impact to your lower back, he reunites with your lips, devouring you endlessly. He feels for your thighs as he holds you still, dragging his hips against them as he rid himself of his shirt and you of yours, the only thing keeping you apart being his trousers and the underwear scantily clad on your body. The body he’s imagined for years after you left.

“Jihoon, don’t stare.” Jihoon lets out a shattered breath before regaining clarity, realizing that he let his eyes linger longer than he intended, broken from his trance at the sound of your whines. 

“A lot has changed since we were last intimate, ” You softly defend, pressing yourself against his body to shield your build, only letting his hunger to swell against the seams of his pants.

“It has.” His lips land on the center of your lips, hugging yours as he slips through and collects the underside of your breast in his palm. With a gentle squeeze, the vibrations of your mewl run a chill path down his spine. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“And you…Fuck,” You cry in anguish, holding his face in your hands, fingers combing through his hair as your chest heaves. “You have no idea how much I wanted to see this gorgeous face again.”

You’ve taken the words right out of his mouth, and hearing them out loud only kindles the fire in his stomach brighter and uncontainable. He can’t take it anymore, he has to have you. In sheer desperation, he maneuvers the unbuckling of his pants, adjusting the waistband of briefs, too frantic to even bother pulling either of them down properly. Instead, his desire springs out from their confines, raging and bold as he grasps himself by the shaft, the elastic hanging by his firm thighs. “God, I missed you. I need to find a condom. Please tell me where one is before I embarrass myself on your floor.”

Chuckling, your hands slide down his cheeks, meeting his eyes that glisten in anticipation as his swollen lips part in an eager quiver. “I don’t want you to use one. After so long I just want to feel you—all of you. Please...”

“You’d let me do that?”

Your fingertips softly dance over his pink cheeks, emitting tingles against his skin. “I’d let you do anything you want.”

“What I want to do…” He lets the tips of your noses meet, and you bite back a premature moan, melting at your flushed skin pressed against each other. “...is make you remember what you sound like screaming my name. Have you feel so much pleasure you’re begging me to stop.”

You take a sharp inhale before your mouth curls in a smug smile, letting your hand the firm touch of chest, pulsing beneath your palm. “How convenient. Our interests align.” You close the gap, tasting the heat and your blended breaths. “I knew I picked a good lawyer.”

“Or I just know the right clients to accept.”

Sliding your panties aside, he feels for your slit, finding your slickness as it satisfyingly coats his fingers. He lets his fingers run over your arousal, gliding across your folds, reacquainting himself with an old favorite pastime, and wedges himself between your folds tauntingly. Your smile drops as you bite your lip to suppress a mewl, stabling yourself on his shoulders, while he invades your arousal and thumbs over your clit agonizingly slow. Your throat tightens at the same time your abdomen tenses, unable to stop yourself from arching your back and leaning into his touch.

Your vision flutters in and out of view, legs tingling as he dips a single digit to penetrate your blossoming walls, the slickness welcoming his thrusts. Your jaw drops slightly, the pads of your fingers pressing dents into his shoulder blades as he curls himself inside you, and you shudder and a whimper exposes your urgency.

“That good?” He gives you a cheeky grin. “Must be if you’re that fucking wet.”

“Shut up,” you lightly retort, only to feel him push it in deeper, holding it inside you before plunging himself into you at a gradually growing pace.

He draws his lips to your ears, his usually gentle voice dropping lower and saying that familiar expression that always made you a little crazy when you heard it. “Make me.”

The finger is joined by another, and he starts playing with your vocal cords as if they were strings of violin, making music that bounces from wall to wall. His toned body pinning you down only taunts you, the lack of mobility only offering you the opportunity to sink your teeth in his shoulder or mark his neck in splotchy love bites. Otherwise, you writhe under his claim, grind your sensitive bud against his palm, and your mind draws a blank, any once coherent thought becoming a jumble of words that doesn’t even come close to belonging in the English dictionary.

Jihoon’s eyes flicker with determination, consumed with unbridled lust, and deep down you revel in it. You weren’t sure if Jihoon had moved on from you since everything happened, and selfishly you hoped that he hadn’t. When your hopes rang true, you jumped at the chance. Perhaps had you done it sooner, you’d see these gates of this heaven earlier, and the angel before wouldn’t any longer just be a wet dream, but a soaking reality.

“I’m gonna cum,” you weakly warn.

“So soon, should I stop?” He teases, only shoving his fingers deeper, reaching past his knuckles. 

“But I want to cum on you.” Your bottom lip swelling up in a subtle pout, gripping his form. “I want to cum on your cock.”

His nose traces over yours, his Cheshire grin gracing your flushed cheek. “And you will, because the first time won’t be the last. So, just cum, hmm? Cum all over my hands for me, Angel.”

You brace for impact against the wall, back arching as the moment hits you like a lightning bolt, striking you in erratic shakes, and you clench your legs against his sides. The heat of your climax travels up to your head as it spills out of your body and bucks your hips into his palm. 

Jihoon strokes your side, soothing you as he carries you through your moment of weakness. He coos at you, peppering kisses on your face as he savors your faltering shudders then pulls out his fingers and watches how your eyes shift when they vanish past his lips. Biting back a soft gasp, you hear the sound of his gentle moan against his knuckles as his tongue runs across his digits, snaking and sucking everywhere that shined, chuckling and seeing a burst of fire reignite in your eyes.

“Now put it inside me,” you command, panting and clenching around nothing, already missing the presence of his company.

He tilts his head, smirking. “Already? So soon.”

You shake your head, “I can handle more. A lot more.”

Jihoon scans over you, watching everything from the rise and fall of your bare chest to the tears that briefly stain our cheeks. He can feel his heart pounding his ears and throat drying up like the desert as he stares at your kiss-swollen lips, holding your gaze as if he has only begun appreciating the visionary you are for the first time in what felt like forever. Looking at you feels like falling in love all over again. And love makes Jihoon do anything you want. 

He fiddles with the hem of your underwear, rubbing the lacy material between the pads of his fingers before pulling them down. He lifts your body slightly off the ground, exerting you against the wall, nudging his knee to hold you in place before aligning himself, licking his lips, seeing your arousal on your thighs as they seep out of you like honey. “You asked for it, okay?” 

Your pupils flicker at the back of your skull before looping your arms around his neck, anchoring your legs around his waist as your pussy swallows him between your folds, stretching your walls and spreading your legs wide as your thighs squeeze tightly around him. “Oh, my–fuck…”

There’s only a fraction of him inside you, yet he already has your brain short-circuiting. “Shit,” Jihoon scoffs, dragging his hips in a tight thrust and slamming you hard enough for the vanity table beside you to have a bottle knocked over. “You still feel like you were made just for me.”

“W-wait. Why do you feel so much bigger than I remember?”

His hands caress the underside of your thighs, bouncing you in his grip, as they stiffened in his grasp. “Well, it’s been a while. Maybe you need to get adjusted to my size again. Would you like me to help with that?”

You timidly nod, holding on to his biceps in a vice grip. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Do you want it to hurt?”

“…Yes.”

Snickering, he plunges into your walls, pulsating as he molds you into his shape down to the veins. Your bodies meld into one, not one without the other, and he honors his word. Every second of him buried inside you stings as skin collides, stretching your strained walls, letting you consume the agonizingly indulgent sensation. You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth as his hips continue to snap. You dig your nails into his flesh, forming white crescents, attempting to retain some of your sanity.

Your heart drops the split second you feel his hands leave your body, and you almost plummet to the ground before he slams you against the wall, catching your thighs just before it’s too late and conveniently pushing in deeper. If he cares at all about the mini heart attack he gives you every time he decides to do that, it doesn’t show. No matter how many times you scold him, although, in his defense, they get drowned in the sound of your hunger. 

“Hoon…” You weakly jab at him. “Asshole…”

“You like it,” he teases, before thrusting deeper as his lips roughly trace your mouth. “I hear it in your voice, try to be better at hiding it if you want to convince me.”

You anchor on him by the shoulders before he does it again, almost dropping you to the ground before catching you at the last second, ripping ungodly moans from the depths of your throat. Jihoon finds them delicious, almost as sweet as the sound of his name on your tongue. He doesn’t want to stop when you sound that enticing.

And you hate to admit it, but here’s a thrill every time he does it, the way he manhandles you as if you are his to play with. As if you are his. You could get used to that. After years of being forced apart, you’re ready to take on the world with him again. 

You rake a hand through his hair, pulling at his bottom lips with teeth before he sharply rams into you, hitting your head against the wall only once before pulling off it to carry you to bed. He drops your bodies on the mattress and revels in your heat as he buries deeper inside you. His hands roam up your arms before they pin down your wrists, lips parting in moans as your legs anchor around him.

“I’m never letting you go,” he softly mumbles. “Nothing—no one will get in my way again.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, eyes looking back at him with awe. “And nothing will.”

Your nostalgia filled pleasure plays like a cinematic movie, and your moans and whimpers are the soundtrack of the night. The way your fingers still curl with every caress transforms the home you use as an escape from the rest of the world into a safe haven, completed with the presence of the man you have loved all your life. Lee Jihoon’s mark on you is something that could never be washed away, and once this whole damned situation is over, you will be eternally his. Just as it is meant to be, as it was always supposed to be.

Your bodies fit together seamlessly, nestled underneath the thickness of the thousand-thread count blanket that trapped you both in its security. Your hand slides perfectly over his, while his firm and strong arms envelop your body as his head knocks against yours. You hear him smile as his heart pounds against your ear, fast and alive even in moments of rest.

“You’re staying the night, right?” you timidly ask, turning your head slightly towards him to meet his eyes. “I want to stay in this moment a little longer. Even if you have to leave.”

He gazes down at you, pressing his lips to your temple, the scent of his sweet breath wafting into your nose as you fight off sleep to be conscious in his presence. “I’m not leaving even if someone tried to pry me off you with a crane. I’m staying with you all night.”

Your heart swells as you tenderly smooth your hands over his backside. “Promise. I’ll wake up and you’ll still be here.”

He grabs your waist tighter, the hum of his voice tingling your cheeks as he speaks. “I promise, Angel.”

You bury your face in his chest, arms looped around his neck, inhaling what you’ve longed for for years. There’s nothing else like his warmth. You’ve passionately love it for years, and being stripped of your 

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” you muffle.

You can feel your heartbeat restless against his. It’s as if they’re both catching up with one another, just as you and Jihoon are intimately doing now. All the time you spent married to someone you didn’t love in the slightest, worried about what your parents wanted for you, worried what they’d do to the people you love, what they’d do to Jihoon. All those years wasted when you could’ve been here, simply his. If you had each other, just as you both promised, perhaps there would be more nights like this.

“Me too,” He admits. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

You pull away from his chest to face him, tears blurring your vision as you clasp your hands on his face. “I know I never stopped loving you. I thought of you every day when I knew I never had the right to.”

He strokes your sides, bewitched by your sincerity, and he embraces you. “We were twenty, you were listening to your parents—”

“And at twenty years old, I was still wise enough to know a good man and have a heart when I see one. I could never make it up to you, but just know you’re never getting rid of me, Lee Jihoon.”

He wistfully smiles. “Is this a life sentence?”

“And an afterlife one.”

Your lips crash against his, melting into him before losing yourselves in one another, losing yourselves into the heat of your reunion before you’re overtaken by the night and fall deep asleep in his embrace. Unlike you, however, Jihoon can’t sleep, fearing that the moment he closes his eyes, he’ll be the one left alone. He’s dreamt of nights where he’s holding as close as he is now, breathing in your essence, savoring your skin, basking in your warmth. And the dreams are cruel the moment he opens his eyes and realizes you were a figment of his deepest desires. Experiencing it in person is better than anything his consciousness could come up with.

He moves your hair away from your face, letting his fingertips ghost over the curve of your cheek, and tenderly smiles down at you. Holding his breath, he feels you stir, that saccharine tone of voice ebbing in mumbles as you press closer against him, tucking your legs between his.

He feels as if he can stare at you for hours, relearning the rhythm of your breath, the number of strands of your lashes, creases of your lips. He does not want to miss a single thing. If he is going to have you, it’ll be all of you. If not, then he’d let himself be all yours. He hopes at least you can give him that much. Especially when he’s missed several years of your lives together.

Before he knows it, morning arrives as the sun rises higher in the sky, peeking through the small division of the bedroom curtain, and Jihoon realizes he didn’t sleep a wink. Yet, he does not mind it one bit. And when your eyes pry open to see him still holding you, his smile stamped on your forehead, that it had been all worth it to hear you greet him with sweet words and your lips that taste even better than he last had them several hours ago. It truly feels unreal still.

But now it’s morning, and that means he is to take care of you like he promised himself he’d do if you ever reunited, so he jumps out of bed to make breakfast. Your tired expression chuckles as he enthusiastically asks you over his shoulder what ingredients you had in your fridge. He’s never and has never been much of a cook, but for you, he is willing to put in the effort. 

“You never really learned what to put in an omelet, did you?” You tease, seeing him toss sliced cucumbers, diced ham, and cottage cheese in his egg batter.

He shrugs, softly pouting as he tugs you towards to join his side. “I can’t make it as good as you. Sue me.”

“How did you go on living without me?”

The corner of his lips softly jerks up. “I’m wondering the same thing.”

You pull him towards you by his waist, letting your hands glide over his exposed back and settling on his shoulder blades. You inhale the natural aroma of his body, inhaling him and remembering every second of the night you shared. Your memories of intimacy with Jihoon haunted your present day, but images of last night make you feel as if you could finally breathe. “Well, stop wondering. I’ll eat your weird omelets and burnt toast. Just never leave me.”

He strokes the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair. “I should be the one saying that to you, Angel.”

Your smile grazes his skin and your grip on him tightens. “I can’t believe I’m hearing that name again after so long. Now it really doesn’t feel real.”

“Then we can stay in dreamland forever,” He hums, slotting your lips between his with the tilt of your chin.

His arms border either of your sides, pressing you against the counter, parting his mouth wider as his moan vibrates against your lips. Like always, his kisses start sweet before they’re hungry, feverish to taste every inch of you. You feel him lift you from the ground, planting your bare thighs on your cool marble counter as he settles between your legs, hands moving towards the festering, wet heat between them.

“Now I’m feeling like dessert for breakfast first.”

Beneath the shirt that you stole from him to wear is nothing but your vulnerability, coated in the slickness that he remembers was heaven on his tongue, yet sinfully addictive at a mere whiff. He pulls up the hem of the shirt, letting it meet your lips whispering, “Bite it,” before watching you claim it between your teeth.

There, he smooths his hands over your thighs, kissing and tasting the skin before his plush lips aim for your burning core. His eyes shoot up at you before dipping his tongue, letting it run up along your slit before sucking against your folds. You clench your raised hands, shielding the lower half of your face as the sound of his endeavor invades your ears, blood rushing towards you rapidly and fiercely. 

“H-hoon…”

He pulls you closer towards him, his moans vibrating against your skin and his tongue slithering inside you as it massages your walls. Meanwhile, the pads of his finger rubbing against your swollen bud, swirling your arousal in circles, the intoxicating scent wafting into his nose before he delves deeper. “I’ve missed this so badly. You have no idea.”

“You’re gonna make a mess,” you blurt out in a moan.

“Get used to it for the rest of our lives,” he mumbles, hungrily devouring you with no remorse.

You feel closer to reaching the peak so fast, your whole body going up in flames until the very last second, and his name is all either of you hear. He still remembers all the right spots, effortlessly bringing you to the tears streaking your cheeks.

Before the moment can last a second longer, your attention is ripped away by the doorbell. Your head falls on his shoulder, hands clinging to his forearms. You groan, bringing you back to reality. “You have to hide.”

He tilts his head with a straight face, sighing. Standing upright, he cups your face to meet his gaze, the warmth of your cheeks so inviting and sees you clasp your hands over his in response. “Am I now the secret lover that has to hide my passion for the woman I love from the world?” he asks dryly, earning him a soft whine.

“It could be him, or worse, my parents. So, to not complicate things any further,” You drag your hands over his bare chest, letting the ripple of muscles stiffen against your palm, instilling your gaze with mischief. “You’re my dirty little secret until the divorce papers are processed. After that, it's you, me, and the end of time.”

He softly scoffs before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips with a smile. “Please get decent. No matter how good you look in my clothes, it’d be best not to look like you just stepped out of my wet dreams for whoever is at the door.”

You grasp at the cotton, enjoying his lingering scent that you hope never goes away. “So, you still dream about me.”

“Angel.”

“Alright, alright.” You interlock your fingers through his before hopping off the counter and returning to the ground. “Help me pick something out?”

You tug him upstairs to your bedroom, giggling like teenagers and trying to get you ready as efficiently as possible with Jihoon’s lips attached to your neck. From last night up until this morning, it’s been nothing short of thrilling. Had the doorbell not rang, you would’ve returned the favor and continued what he started. You couldn’t see how the rest of the day could go wrong. Even if it were your soon to be ex or your parents, you didn’t think they could take away the smile permanently tattooed on your face. You just couldn’t wait to get back to him.

But for now, this can wait. You have all the time in the world to rekindle the flame that had exploded in your bedroom. For the time being, he has to stay hidden, and the first place you think of is your walk-in closet that’s more than enough space for him to hide. And after choosing something decent to wear, you leave him with a peck on the cheek before descending towards the front door doorbell sounds again, hearing whoever is on the other side evidently impatient. As you swing the door open, you mentally strategize for whoever is on the end, but nothing—no amount of courage or time could have prepared you for this.

“Officers, good morning. How can I help you?” The pads of your fingers are pressed against the door, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and your breath seizes just at the entrance of your mouth.

They ask for your name and your relationship with that man you’ve been trying to sever ties with for the last several weeks—or admittedly, several years. You blink back at them, heart picking up pace as you clutch your blouse. “Has something happened?”

“Your husband, Boo Hyunkwan, was found murdered in his complex today.”

Your eyes shoot open, skin running cold at the break of the news, and you expel a breath of disbelief. “What…? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure this is shocking news, however, Miss, we are arresting you for the suspected murder of Boo Hyunkwan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

“Wait–” You’re trembling as you’re put in handcuffs, feeling the cold metal snap and squeeze around your wrists as your panic sets in. 

Your head oscillates from one officer to the other, pleading in your eyes as you insist that this is a mistake, asking how this was sanctioned. Then, your main concern dawns on you, and now all that you can think about is the man you left hidden in your closet. You suppress the instinct to call for him, letting his name die on your tongue as you tuck away in the police car.

You had just reunited, and now you’re getting taken away again. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Not now. Not like this.

Jihoon. Help. 

The man in question has always respected your wishes, but his curiosity got the best of him, blaming it on the years spent away from each other. He just had to see that you’re okay, maybe get ready to break out in a sprint if the situation calls for it. Careful to not to get caught, he undercuts through the big windows looking out towards the front lawn, peering just over the windowsill enough from your bedroom window to make out the scene outside when sees flashing red and blue lights.

Standing pin straight, his hands plants against the window, watching the scene before him unfold without a say otherwise. Eyes glued to your restrained posture shoved in the backseat of the cop car, and it reeves its engine before leaving your driveway. The man still in hiding could only grit his teeth as your name burns and swells his throat shut, breathing no longer an option.

Not that he has many options at this point.

After meeting your parents and after the engagement…

“That couldn’t have gone worse.” Jihoon loosens his tie, but he’s unable to rid himself of the tightness around his throat.

You fall on the couch beside him, a soft gaze directed at him as you smooth out his collar. “It wasn’t that bad. You were perfect, my parents—”

“Were looking after their precious only daughter. As would I.” Jihoon holds your face in his palms, feeling the heat fester as he brushes his thumbs over the plane of your cheeks. “I would protect this Angel too.”

You clasp your hands over his, your scowl only deepening as you take them in your hands. “They still shouldn’t have treated you like that. They’re a reflection of me. What does that say about me?”

He presses a soft kiss against the tip of your nose, feeling your grip on him tighten. “You’re a product of nature, not nurture. It’s your nature to be beautiful inside and out, Angel.”

“What did I do in my life to deserve you?” You coo, throwing your arms around his torso and pressing your ear to his chest, his heartbeat resonating louder by the second.

It’s soothing. The purest form of truth that not anyone could deny. You don’t need to hear a single song if it means giving up this sound and the body that contains it. But his kind words, the words to match the rhythm of his restless heartbeat. One is not one without the other. Just like you are not yourself without Jihoon.

“Love me. So don’t stop now.”

You let out soft gasp, clinging tighter as warmth fans throughout your body. It’s clear as day. You couldn’t imagine a world with him, not a world where you aren’t miserable. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jihoon has already been nervous about meeting your parents, but having met them just confirms his suspicions. You’re the heir to an empire, while Jihoon’s family is nothing remarkable. He had a good family, a decent home life, but almost nothing to his name. He was painfully ordinary with the passion of being a lawyer, but the passion didn’t make him one. After all, he wasn’t on the path of many currently successful lawyers that paid thousands for their education.

Despite it all, Jihoon knows that he has a future with you in it. For the time being, Jihoon is determined to see it through.

“I assume you know why you’re here, young man.”

The sternness in the older woman makes Jihoon’s blood run cold, even with the hot tea that was provided for him. He knows what this is. He’s watched enough television to understand this is the inevitable meeting that he is destined to face. 

“You wanted to discuss your daughter.”

She scoffs, emphasizing her smile lines. She crosses her arms, leaning against her chair before bringing the tea cup to her lips. Now the sudden fear of liquid—or in this case, scorching hot tea—dawns on him. He hopes that this is something you just see in film, and he won’t have to suffer from second degree burns from a soap opera cliche. “I suppose you aren’t daft, perhaps that’s why she likes you so much, but clearly still not smart enough to realize you are not suited for her.”

Jihoon bows his head, the thought of meeting her eyes bringing an irrational amount of fear he never realized he could garner. He tries to swallow it, but it only ends up clogging the words of bravery that he had practiced so many times to win your parents over.

“If you care about her, you’ll walk away. She has a future bigger than this.”

She doesn’t stop for his response and instead throws a thick envelope on the table, the kind you see on multiple cliche dramas with an amount that could change his and his family’s life if he accepts it. An offer he can not dare to refuse. 

“$500,000. Should pay your student loans and all of your tuition. Plenty left over for your family.”

Jihoon clenches his fist, biting his bottom lip until he tastes iron. All for you. All for their one and only daughter. They need him out of your life so badly that this money is nothing to them but a hunk of change they can throw to get exactly that. “I can’t accept this.”

“So much pride with so little to show for it.” She stands from her seat, looming over him coldly. “She is arranged to be married. Someone of equal status. You’d understand, Jihan, is it?”

His thoughts are running amok in his head, bouncing off every corner of mind and rippling waves of ache every passing second. Yet, not one of them revealed themselves in front of the woman before him. Cowardice comes naturally in this circumstance, but Jihoon never thought he’d be a victim of it.

“No matter,” she continues, “Break it off as clean as possible. Or better yet, make it hurt, so that she won’t come running back. This will be good for the both of you.”

Jihoon knows that is the last thing he needs to hear. He knows you don’t think this way. You never gave implications you do, but he can’t help but wonder if your mother is right. Maybe what your parents are offering is better. He couldn’t possibly match up their standards, your standards that you grew up with. What can he offer you that a family with generations of fortune can’t? He has no idea.

Maybe…he shouldn’t hold you back. Maybe this arrangement is what you really need and deserve. If he truly loves you, letting you go would perhaps be the last biggest sacrifice he can make for you. 

So, he coordinates a date, what he assumes would be your final date. He’d take you to somewhere private, in the nicest place he can afford, and buy you your favorite meal with the money he’s saved up from working his part time job. He’ll give you your happiest day before breaking your heart and the news that you can’t be together. He at least has to give you that.

But you beat him to the punch.

“I know what this is.”

He grimaced, looking up from his dinner, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stare through him, piercing, ebbing beads of sweat down his forehead even when he tries avoiding your eyes. “I know you met with my mother.”

“Angel–”

“I’m not giving up, Jihoon.” You twist the plain gold ring on your finger, thumbing over the band. “I love you too much.”

He desperately wants to trust you, to believe in the words you speak, just as he always has. But doubt gnaws at him, fueled by mounting evidence and a gut feeling he can't ignore. The stakes are too high, the consequences too dire to rely solely on blind faith. In his most vulnerable moments, when fear and uncertainty cloud his judgment, it feels as though your love alone isn't enough to withstand the inevitable.

Present day…

Jihoon charges into the police station, haphazardly dressed in yesterday’s clothes with his shirt untucked and buttoned up until the first two top buttons. Everyone present in the room looks towards him momentarily before turning their eyes back to their current task as if it’s an ordinary occurrence. Meanwhile, the man fueled by panic staggers over to the front desk, running his hand frantically through his hair as he tries settling his nerves to garner the right words.

“I-I’m looking for someone,” he stammers, eyes bulging out of his head and brimming with tears. “She just detained. Her name—“ 

Before he can complete his inquiry, his phone goes off, only heightening the stress he’s experiencing. Barely mustering the motor skills to retrieve it from his pocket, he glances at the caller ID that immediately grabs his attention. His gaze flickers back at the officer for a moment before he’s fixated on his phone. “I’ll be right back.”

He scurries over to his car, accepts the car, and presses it to his ear. “Hello?”

“J-Jihoon.”

The quiver in your voice brings him to tears. He tries to keep his composure as their warmth streams down his cheeks. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

"They said I could call a lawyer.”

He chuckles softly at your flawed reasoning. "I’m a divorce lawyer, my love."

“Even if you weren’t a lawyer, you were the first person I wanted to talk to.”

His heart aches, clutching his phone as he swallows back his trepidation. “What happened?”

“Hyunkwan. H-he’s dead.”

Jihoon tightly shut his eyes, unsure if he heard currently with how disorienting this whole circumstance is. “Hyunkwan…your husband.”

“T-they found him murdered at home, dead for a couple of days according to autopsies.”

Jihoon sighs coming to realization. “The police suspect you have something to do with it.”

“Yes.” You say voice cracking on the other side. He hears the rustling of your clothes, with the undertone of your whimpers barely making it through on the call. “They think I…I’m sorry to be taking business away from you after all the work you’ve done and hours you’ve put in.”

“Never mind that now. Just remember you didn’t do this. You stick to that. Don’t let them bully you into saying anything else but that.”

“But I didn’t do this,” You insist through your sobs. “I really didn’t.”

He frowns, clutching his chest as he leans his forehead against the front passenger door. “I know. I know you didn’t. Just stick to this, okay?”

“Okay…I just got you back. Why is it I have to fight for you all over again?” You softly whine.

His hand presses flat against his car window, steadying himself. “Once I get you alone again, I’ll let you do absolutely everything to make up for lost time.”

“Hoon…”

“Wait for me, I'll get you, Angel.” 

The second the call ends, Jihoon walks back into that building with a newfound confidence and looks straight into the officer he spoke with before. “Pardon me, urgent call. I’m here to represent my client.”

In the interrogation room, Jihoon has never been more concerned than he is at that very moment. Even disheveled, you look as beautiful as you did this morning when you woke up together with your tear streaked cheeks and red swollen eyes. He wants to do nothing but take you in his arms, kissing the stress away from your body and distract you with long languid kisses until you’re breathless and he’s the only thing on your mind.

But against his wishes, Jihoon keeps it together, trying to remember anything helpful he learned in criminology to help you with your situation.

After a long 72 hours of interrogation and containment, due to lack of evidence, Jihoon has you released. Now, he watches you in his peripheral view as you sit stiff in the front passenger seat, staring off in the distance, unsure whether there was nothing or a multitude of things on your mind. 

The car's interior was thick with silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic thrum of tires against asphalt. Jihoon's gaze flickers repeatedly towards you, his brow furrowed with concern. Your rigid posture and the vacant stare in your eyes boring into the road, painting a picture of inner turmoil that words couldn't quite capture.

He racks his brain, desperately searching for the right words to break the silence, to dissipate the awkward tension that thickened the air. But what can he say? How can he possibly understand the maelstrom of emotions you were undoubtedly experiencing?

It’s been nothing less than a harrowing ordeal of relentless onslaught of accusations, interrogations, and the suffocating confines of a cold, sterile cell. And now, despite the nightmare having come to an end, the dark memory still clings to you, its icy fingers refusing to release their grip.

Jihoon's heart aches in your presence. He longs to reach out, to offer comfort and reassurance, but he fears that any attempt at consolation would only serve to further expose his own helplessness in the face of your trauma. He’s acutely aware that his presence, while a source of safety and security, is no medicine for the bundle of nerves that festers like a million ants in your stomach.

Jihoon's grip on the steering wheel tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure, while the silence stretches on. Each passing second amplifies the palpable tension that strangles his neck, suffocating his being. The once familiar surroundings of the car now felt alien and depressing, the silence a deafening roar that drowned out all rational thought.

“We’re almost home, Angel—”

“He’s gone, Jihoon. He was here, and now he’s gone.”

Jihoon retreats to the silence that once held him hostage, accepting there are no words in the universe that could give you the solace you need right now.

“Sick bastard,” You hiss. Putting your fingers to your lips, you succumb to the habit of biting your nails. The habit that you put a lot of effort into getting rid of, apparently only done in vain. “Even in death, he finds a way to take me down with him.”

“You and Hyunkwan…”

“It was business,” you clear up before taking a beat. “Mostly.”

Mostly.

“I see,” Jihoon responds, keeping a neutral tone, while in his head, he’s running a hundred miles per hour imagining you with a man that isn’t him.

You swallow a lump in your throat, lightly clawing at his leather seats. “We were in the same boat. Two kids forced together by their families because of an agreement made so, so long ago. We got along for a little bit, the only reason why it lasted so long, and then we tried to make it work. At least for the beginning of the second year, but old habits die hard, and he couldn’t give up his playboy lifestyle. Then there was me, who never stopped loving you.”

His chest tightens, each breath a struggle as your confession reverberates through him. Every word, a searing touch against his soul, burns its way into his brain. He feels the weight of your admission pressing down on him. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs, its wild beat echoing and taking root in every wrinkle of his brain.

“So he went back to partying, and I spent the following several years alone, surveillanced, controlled, and the person I married couldn’t care any less about me, but that’s fine because the person that really mattered was safe.”

Jihoon readjusts his grip on the wheel, gritting his teeth at the thought of your solitude. He had hoped that you’d find some peace in the unavoidable obligation, but knowing that you suffered in silence is worse than knowing you had attempted to build a romantic relationship with your husband. At least with the latter, you would have some semblance of joy.

“Safe? Angel—”

“Hoon, stay with me for the time being.” You grip an of of his with reach, your eyes glossed in your desperate tears, your cracking voice tearing piece by piece. “I don’t want to live alone in that house.”

“You don’t have to. What about the place you’ve been staying now?”

You shake your head with a deep scowl. “My parents found out about me living there and changed the key code. I’m locked out, but they’ve sent my things to my legal residence. It’s the only place I can stay.”

“How can they still be—after hearing their son-in-law has passed?”

You roll your eyes, obviously used to their aggressive and shameless tactics to get exactly what they want. Just as they always have. “They want to keep the ties to the Boos as long as they can. They can’t do that by being estranged. They’re already furious enough that I’ve been living somewhere else.”

Dilemma becomes a lingering companion, making the lawyer question and challenge every selfish thought and desire to stay by your side when it combats with his logic that dares keep you at a distance. “Wouldn’t it be strange for me to stay there?”

“I need you. I can just tell anyone who asks that my lawyer and I are working closely on this case. I’ll say anything I have to to keep you by my side, Hoon.”

Jihoon's breath hitches as he shifts the car into park, his eyes drinking in the grandeur of your house. It was far larger than anything he had ever imagined, a sprawling testament to a life he felt utterly removed from. A wave of insecurity washes over him, the stark contrast between his own modest upbringing and the opulence before him serving as a harsh reminder of the vast sea that divides your worlds.

He swallows hard, his heart pounding against his ribs as he turns to face you. Despite the trepidation that gnawed at him, his love for you is and has always been unwavering. Reaching out, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. "Then I'll stay by your side," he murmurs in your hair, pressing his lips against the side of your head as he feels you reciprocate.

Amidst the uncertainty and the fear, Jihoon makes a solemn vow to himself. No matter the challenges that might arise, he will remain steadfast. He will not falter, no matter the trials and tribulations that lay ahead. With unwavering determination, he pledges to devote every waking moment to fighting tirelessly for your case, and to ensure that you remain by his side. No matter how many mornings and nights it takes, he’ll keep at it relentlessly until you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

After the break up, before the wedding…

Jihoon had been single for his entire life, a lonely existence that spanned twenty years. That was until he met you, an impossibly enchanting presence who immediately bewitched him at a mere glance. The way you love was generous, addictive. Something that would make a man go mad. His life was irrevocably altered from that moment; he couldn't envision a future without you by his side.

The day your relationship ended was a paradox of emotions, as if his heartbreak and logic were at combat. That day had to have been the worst day of his life. It was as if your absence left a gaping hole that made him feel like only a shell of his former self. He was worse than before he had met you. Then he was antisocial, and now he didn’t want to look at another person for as long as he lived. If it were within his power, he would erase it from his mind entirely, but the pain of losing the love of his life was an indelible scar, a torment he wouldn't wish upon even his most hated enemy.

"Long time no see.”

You stand bashfully beneath the sprawling branches of the grand oak tree that dominated the center of the campus park. The same park where you both make a recurring date spot since you insisted on him getting some vitamin D on the especially sunny days, the sacred ground where Jihoon had professed his undying love and asked for your hand in marriage. The last happy memory you had together before it all went to shit.

His head lifts abruptly, drawn away from the pages of the book he'd been staring at without truly reading. The words had blurred into meaninglessness after you'd walked out of his life. His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, time stands still, disbelief warring with a glint of hope in his eyes. You offered him a bittersweet smile, the curve of your lips swelling the organ that put him at ruin countless times before gracefully settling onto the grass beside him, the shade blanketing over your presence like the gray gloomy cloud did him.

"Hi," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're...you're talking to me."

"That I am," you confirm, your voice gentle and warm.

His brow furrows, and the hope melts off his face, turning the corners of his lips down. "I don't know if your parents, or your...fiance," he says, emphasizing the word that has his voice thick with distaste, "would like that."

The corners of your mouth turn down in a sad smile. and you draw your knees up to your chest, resting your head against them. "No, they wouldn't, but I don't care."

"Maybe you should.” His voice laced with a chilling indifference as he turns his attention back to the dense textbook that lay open in his lap, his focus appearing unwavering.

The sting of his snide remark makes your heart feel as if it’s being crushed, mangled by a hand until it’s deduced to nothing. Nonetheless, you push the ache down, forcing a casual, eased tone. "Funny. It's only been a month, but it feels like an eternity."

He merely hums in response, feigning disinterest while his every nerve thrums at  the knowledge of your existence that makes concentration feel like combat against a formidable opponent.

"I'm done avoiding you," you declare, your voice firm.

His fingers pause their rhythmic flipping of pages, his lips twisting into a nervous line, his eyes still fixed on the pages. "Really?"

"Really.”

A flicker of something akin to intrigue passed over his features before disappearing in a split second, replaced by a stone face. "...That's nice to hear," he replies, his voice measured, guarded.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment before you break it, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "So, what are you studying?"

"Forensic science," he bluntly answers, his voice devoid of any inflection. "The scientific methods used to investigate and examine evidence."

Your lips pucker in  feigned curiosity, looking to prolong this encounter no matter how cold he makes himself to be. "How's it going?" 

He lets out a sigh, the sound heavy with frustration. His eyes seemed to blur the images in front of him as if the words on the page were swimming before his eyes. "Like my brain developed a severe intolerance for new information.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, his frustration evident in the way he’s now violently flipping through the pages. You took a moment to etch his features into your memory, wanting to remember every detail of how he looks now, what will  one day be a passing image that you’d never get to see again. "Too bad you're pursuing criminal law, huh? Any chance you might become a divorce lawyer and take my case one day when it comes?"

Jihoon scoffs softly, his gaze falling to his feet as he goes silent for a moment. That thought has crossed his mind countless times since you had reluctantly agreed to your parents' arranged marriage. Though his expression remains stoic, his words reveal the truth you both had tried so hard to ignore. "In a heartbeat," he grips the book tightly, as if the act would get rid of the ache in his chest. "You know I would."

Your heart hammers in your chest, the determination in his eyes almost overwhelming as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "Don't," you choke out, shaking your head. "I would never want to take that away from you. Your whole life is centered around being a criminal justice lawyer."

"And you," he lifts his gaze from his lap to meet your eyes with tears that threaten to spill. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe them away. "Criminal justice and you. Angel."

You know there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. And that's what terrifies you. The extent of his sacrifices knows no bounds. He's unconditionally devoted to you in a way that’s almost suffocating, but to be smothered in that love is an end you don’t mind meeting. Jihoon has always considered himself a logical man, but from the moment you met, he's become the epitome of a romantic. "I love you more than anything in the world," you remind, "but don't. Please."

He sighs, his attention returning to his book, his fingers flipping the pages. "I won't," he assures you, "if it means that much."

Except, that is what he fully plans to do.

Present day, a week after the release…

“Hoon?”

Jihoon, his glasses slightly askew, glances up from the cluttered desk, a warm smile gracing his lips as he sees you standing in the doorway. His fingers pause their rhythmic dance across the keyboard, the soft click-clack momentarily silenced as he greets you. "You're home.”

You scan over his workspace he’s made for himself in an empty office of your home, unable to ignore the neverending mountain of documents. "You're still here working on my case?" 

A soft smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he plucks off his glasses, his eyes holding yours an unwavering confidence. "Of course. My clients always get the best service."

Your brow furrows slightly. "You haven't been going into your office," you point out. "Won't that be a problem?"

"I've transferred any ongoing cases I had to other recommended lawyers in the area," he reassures, fingering through stacks on stacks of paperwork. "They'll be helping them. Don't worry about me."

“How can I? You’re losing work because of me. Plus, you’re a divorce lawyer. Is this even allowed?”

He pauses, his gaze softening at your concern painted over your features. "You and I both know I am well versed in criminal law just as much as I am in family law. I majored in criminal justice, remember?”

Your eyes narrow back at him as you cross your arms. “Yes, and you went against me and became a divorce lawyer.”

He grins a little too hard, like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. “It brought you to me, didn’t it? And as for losing work. it's a small price to pay to make sure you get the justice you deserve."

"Isn't this a lot for you to take on? You must have other responsibilities, work, errands..."

His eyes lock onto yours, unwavering and steady. He points at you domineeringly with the pen in his hand as if you’re about to be lectured for being tardy to class. "You're facing a trial for a murder you didn't commit. You shouldn't be wasting your energy worrying about me."

"Hoon—" 

"I won't let them take you away from me a third time.” His preservation only grows stronger with your concern, heart heavy as he replays the image of you put in handcuffs, actively getting taken away from him.

"Still, you can't put yourself through all of this just for me.”

"Why not?" His voice rises slightly, kindling a fiery path down his throat. "You didn't do this, and I'm not going to just stand by and twiddle my fingers. Everything we’ve rebuilt, it’ll all come crashing down. Again."

"It won't.” You shake your head with unwavering resolve before you reach his side and gently tug his arm. "I won't let it."

His expression softens, but it does not deter his persistence. "Then let me double my efforts to help you." 

“But—" He silences you with a look, his eyes pleading desperately as the air around you wraps around your throat and squeezes it shut.

He gently places the pen on the table, his hand moving to cup the side of your face. His gaze holds yours, filled with a longing that betrays the initial confidence his words carried. His lips tremble slightly, a reminder of the fear that’s taken over that past week as he inches closer towards you.

"It may be hard to believe, but," he whispers, his voice husky as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes hover over your parted mouth, his face drawing closer until your breaths mingle in the space between you, "talking to you through a glass partition and dressed in orange is not nearly as fun as it sounds. Please, Angel," he takes you in both his hands, forcing your gaze on him as your hips meet in desperate pleas, "let me help you."

“Jihoon-” His lips capture yours, clutching you against him as your hands settle over his waist, succumbing to an insatiable lip-lock, burying your mixed bag of emotions as he presses you against the edge of his desk.

He parts from you in heavy breaths before you propel over to reclaim him, the hunger overtaking your logic as you fill your mind with Jihoon and him only. Your ferocity drowns out the softness of his tenor voice as your hands fiddle over his button-down, undoing each one in a hurried pattern before his hands clasp over yours in a forced halt, pushing them down. 

Your lips part softly, the air between you heavy with insatiable desire. The intensity in his gaze deepens, a lustful darkness swirling within that reflects your own yearning. You find his presence intoxicating, a high that won’t come down, and he reminds you how easily he can have you succumb to his every whim. It's as if he's peering into your very soul, igniting a fire within you that is not only tempting but threatens to consume you both. He realizes that he needs to be the one in control to prevent that from happening. Especially considering the hunger he fears is already fueling you and threatens his clarity.

“Don’t try distracting me,” he half-jokingly says, his hands tracing the sides of your torso, betraying his conviction. “You know I can’t resist you.”

You snicker, your bottom lip being pulled through your teeth as you throw your arms around his neck, drawing his presence dangerously closer. “Yeah, you can’t.”

“Angel,” he gently warns, breath hitching in his throat as your touch trails down the exposed plane of his chest as it heaves, while the hairs on his neck stand stiff, his lust talking over his reasoning.

“Knock off all the papers off your desk like you want to, Hoon,” your lips ghost over one another, daring another kiss to get lost in. “Don’t you remember? That fantasy of yours where we lose ourselves in each other? You wanna ruin this desk with me?”

“You…” His smug smile grazes your lips as he borders you with his arms, pushing you into a locked cage of his fervent heat that sends your aroused state ablaze. A sweet moan leaves your lips as his thigh parts your legs as it takes residence against your clothed core. “Just don’t know when to quit, don't you?”

Before the moment escalates any further, the familiar sound of the doorbell rings throughout the house, eliciting a frustrated groan from the man in front of you as he clings to your frame. “We need a sign or a scarecrow or something if we keep getting interrupted like this.” He chastely kisses the giggles off your lips. “I’ll get it—but after, no more distracting me.”

Your eyes widen in clear offense before you playfully shove him away. "You kissed me!" you loudly reminded, your head double taking in the incredulity. "And why would you open the door? It's my house."

"Consider it a trauma response," he answers dryly as his fingers gently brush against the back of your head, watching the endearing pout swell your kiss-swollen lips. “I won't take long. Just follow behind me if you're worried."

You huff, crossing your arms and sounding out in a firm and resolute tone, "I was going to do that anyway."

"I knew you would,” he says with a knowing smile.

Jihoon's footsteps trickle down the steps as he follows the incessant ringing of the doorbell, echoing through the house with an urgency that intensifies his irritability. Before he can reach the door, it swings open, revealing a figure who rushes in, nearly colliding with Jihoon in their haste.

"Um, hello?" Jihoon stammers, taken aback by the intrusion.

The individual doesn’t bother acknowledging the man that welcomes him, his eyes frantically scanning the room. "Where is she?" His gaze darts from one corner to another before finally landing on you.

"Seungkwan?" 

Seungkwan's face softens as he sees you. He rushes towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in the crook of your neck. "Oh my god," he mumbles into your skin, "You have no idea how worried I was."

Jihoon steps back, standing frozen as his fists clenched tightly at his sides, watching the scene unfold before him. Like a knife twisting in his gut, he’s unable to ignore the intimacy of your skinship. The way you lean into the newcomer's touch, how familiar it all is to you. You might as well send a sharp slap to his face.

He prides himself on his self-control, his ability to maintain a stoic facade even in the face of adversity—crucial for a lawyer. But at this moment, he feels powerless, his confidence depleting. He wants nothing more than to stride forward, to pull you away from the stranger's embrace and make it known that only he has the privilege to greet you so warmly. But he can't. He shouldn’t. Instead, he tucks away his jealousy and pride, maintaining a pretense of civility in front of the person who looks at home in your arms.

You gently release yourself from his embrace and place him at your side, his gaze oozing with concern. "It's okay, for now," you reassure him, "but you almost hurt my guest."

Seungkwan's expression shifts to realization as he turns to Jihoon. "My apologies," he extends his hand for a handshake. Jihoon accepts, noting the firmness of his grip which he returns just as boldly. The other man doesn’t waver, only conjuring a polite smile, one Jihoon is all too familiar with in his line of work. "I am her legal guardian."

You roll your eyes. “No, he’s not.”

The young man sulks and childishly pulls at your sleeve with doe eyes, “Yes, I am. After my brother's death, I might as well be.” He clings to you like a fly in a sticky trap. “I booked the earliest flight right after my business meeting and got here as soon as I could. I'm here now.”

You gently push him away again and rest your hands on his shoulders. “I'm an adult. I’m my own guardian.” You glance at the lawyer, hands tied as he witnesses the scene, and you’re suddenly overtaken by a sense of guilt. “Jihoon, this is my brother-in-law, Seungkwan. Seungkwan, this is Jihoon, my…lawyer for the time being. He's staying at the house so we can work closely on the case and get the whole picture.”

Your hesitation to define Jihoon’s presence is clear, but amidst the chaotic rally, it goes unnoticed by the newcomer. He inserts himself between you and Jihoon, acting as a barrier.

"Thank you for taking on her case with such short notice." Seungkwan takes your hand in his, stroking the back with his thumb and staring back at you with an immeasurable warmth as he interlaces your fingers. Meanwhile, Jihoon feels a surge of possessiveness as his gaze lingers on your intertwined fingers, maleficence passing over his eyes as he thinks of the limitless ways he can pry Seungkwan’s fingers off you before snapping every ligament.

"Of course," the lawyer responds calmly, maintaining a stoic composure despite his clenched jaw. "Just doing my job."

“Sweetheart…” Seungkwan's voice drips with a luscious honey as he nuzzles his head against your shoulder, his boyish face etched with a charmingly innocent grin. "Let big brother make all your worries disappear," he coos, gently guiding you towards the staircase, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. Jihoon, observing the scene from across the room, feels a flicker of irritation twitching at the corner of his eye.

"Kwan, I'm older than you. What 'big brother' are you talking about?" You cast an apologetic glance over your shoulder at the lawyer standing alone in the corner. Seungkwan pouts playfully, his hand descending your lower back, and Jihoon gets closer to resort to violence.

“Well, for the time being, I’m big brother, so anything you need, I can do. Don’t worry your little head over anything.”

Jihoon's body moves mechanically, slowly trailing behind the chattering duo before the door to your bedroom clicks shut. The silence of the room presses down on him, bitterly reminding him of the loneliness he has briefly escaped. The familiar ache of rejection settles deep within him, a long-forgotten companion that he has grown accustomed to evading. There is nothing he can do to change the situation, not without causing more harm than good. 

With a heavy sigh, Jihoon turns his attention back to the office and returns to your case, channeling his restless energy into something productive. But even as he immerses himself, cataloging every detail, your image of you leaving returns. The vision of you disappearing from his sight, guided by another's touch, lingers in the back of his mind, and in turn, reopens the throbbing wound once sewed by you coming back in his life.

For the following month, Seungkwan doesn't leave your side, which gives Jihoon plenty of time to develop your case. However, Jihoon can't shake his unease about your brother-in-law. Seungkwan's constant affectionate gestures toward you—the loving gazes, lingering touches, and overly sweet words of affirmation—make Jihoon want to throw himself off a cliff. Or better yet the other man off one instead.

Seungkwan's presence, equivalent to an annoying pest, has made it nearly impossible for you and Jihoon to have any privacy. Not that you’ve tried anything while he’s in the house, both you and your lawyer/lover have you carefully hiding private messages, considering how close he can get to you at any given time. His unwavering presence feels insurmountable, leaving you and Jihoon with no choice but to roll with the punches.

“Sweetheart, let’s get dinner!”

You roll your eyes, barely looking up from your book. “Kwan, I know I’m not working now, but that doesn’t mean I can go out and goof around with you all the time.”

“Boo…that’s exactly what it means!”

You sigh as you gaze at the cracked door that leads to the private office on the same floor. Peering through, you catch a glimpse of Jihoon diligently shuffling through papers, his glasses perched on his nose in a way that makes you swoon.

“Let’s just order in, we can get something for Attorney Lee too. I’m worried he’s not getting any real meals in with all the time he’s putting into my case.”

Seungkwan nods gingerly, “Sure, what’ll you have?”

“One moment,” you scurry over to the door that stands in your way, pushing it open with a knock and alerting the man in the room. “Anything you’re craving? We’re getting lunch.”

The lawyer glances up at you above his frames, readjusting them to fit over his eyes. “Uh, anything. I’m not all that hungry.”

“You must want something.” You look at him expectantly, pressing your lips in a firm line as you scan his appearance, resisting the urge to tear his haphazardly worn dress shirt off him and devour him like a rabid animal. “It could be anything.”

He rests his arms on the desk, pursing his lips in thought. “If anything…I’d like to try your cooking. You’d seem like you have a colorful palette.”

You grin, narrowing your eyes at him in feigned annoyance as a hint of a smile graces his face. He turns back to his work, his teeth biting back a bigger smile.

“Well, I better get started then.”

Too distracted by the alluring dishevel of the man buried in paperwork, you don’t discern the eyes burning a hole in your back. The smile that would be a constant on Seungkwan’s face is visibly misplaced. When you return your attention to him, he quickly conjures one on the spot, acting as if nothing had changed at all.

“Kwan, how do you feel about kimchi fried rice? I’ve been meaning to make use of the kimchi taking space in the fridge.”

Seungkwan nods. “I’m down.” He stands up from the couch and strides towards you, putting his hands behind his back. “Sounds like you’re in need of a partner…a cooking partner that is.”

“That I am,” you nonchalantly agree, briefly shifting eyes back to Jihoon, “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“I look forward to it.”

You gleefully consume yourself with your culinary ventures, tasting and scavenging for all your ingredients and giddy that Jihoon requested it after being forced to hide your affinity for another. You aren’t used to the stiff wall he’s built; even starting as a client, he acted more familiar than this. But if you can show your love in any way possible, you’ll do it. 

Amidst your joy, Seungkwan busies himself by chopping the vegetables you’ve assigned him, glowering at your back turned toward him while you remain oblivious. You don’t notice how his eyes trail up your body, surveilling you like a hawk. Or him pressing his lips together in restraint when you bend over to pick up something you dropped. He only mutters under his breath, hardly audible with your soft humming that fills the room.

“Hey, Kwan, help me find the sugar. It vanished on me.”

He makes a semblance of a smile. “Sure.” 

As he pretends to scavenge for your targeted ingredient, he continues stalking your moves. He takes a sharp inhale when you brush past him, the comforting scent of your skin bringing him. He chuckles to himself, amused by your mounting frustration, savoring the soft grumbles under your breath. Finally, you’re met with triumph as you spot the elusive ingredient tucked away on a high shelf, hidden behind a bulky cabinet. “Found it!”

“Let me get that for you.”

Before you can make way for him, his body presses flush against your backside, and you can feel every detail on him you’ve made contact with. You let out a sharp gasp when he shifts against you closer. The feeling of his presence lingers long enough for you to process your emotions before his fingers grip the sugar jar and place it on the counter in front of you. “How did that get up there? You should put it within closer reach to avoid hurting yourself trying to get it.”

You hum, acknowledging his advice. As you turn to face him, you lock eyes, catching the hint of something in his eyes before he descends his gaze, cheeks undeniably red. Awkwardly, you force a cough and cast your attention to the lunch in progress. “Right. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

That moment replays in your mind, leaving a disconcerting tension that hinders your movements. You are unable to stop yourself from fixating on two qualities of that encounter: the unfamiliar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach churn and the firm sensation you felt when he stood behind you. Despite your feelings, you brush the thought aside. Recalling all the past instances, you should be accustomed to his lack of personal space by now. Perhaps you’re misinterpreting what you think you felt, making excuses for him alone in your head. This could all become a big misunderstanding, and it’d be best to ignore all together to avoid trouble.

As you carefully arrange the lovingly prepared meal on the dining table, grinning to yourself with the placement before calling out to Jihoon. You’re surprised when he turns up almost instantly. "That was quick." Your lips turn up in a teasing smirk, raising an eyebrow. Considering the office is located all the way at the end of the first-floor hallway, it shouldn't be humanly possible to get to the dining room this quickly. 

“It…smelled good,” the lawyer bashfully pats his stomach, maintaining his aloof expression. “I got curious, so I couldn't wait. I needed to use the bathroom anyway, and this one was closer than the others.”

“Well, wait no further. Dig in, boys!”

Dinner is seemingly to some, but not others. Seungkwan, emboldened by the seating arrangement, has an idea pop into his head. Laden with unspoken intent, he picks up his own spoon, insisting on feeding you. He makes a thinly veiled excuse of having "too much meat" to eat alone, and every accepted bite makes the corner of his lips turn up higher.

Jihoon, on the other hand, quietly observes. He harnesses a mask of disinterest, but he can feel it crack under the pressure of the underlying tension at the dining table. Inconspicuously, his eyes dart up to survey the air between you and Seungkwan; brief but intense, each glance leaves him with more questions left to be answered. He finds it increasingly challenging to suppress his indignation amidst the seemingly amicable gestures, deflecting his attention to the clinking of utensils and drink glasses as he tries to ignore the incessant hum of their conversation.

He deliberately doesn’t mention the moment in the kitchen—the scene that had you and your brother in law too close for comfort. He doesn’t ask how it rendered you speechless, or confess how it ignited a silent fury within him, causing his hands to ball into fists and his jaw to clench. The tension in that scene stretched on, feeling interminable, until you managed an escape, ducking your head so low that Jihoon fails to catch your reaction, unable to determine your true sentiment. 

The lawyer had the unfortunate opportunity to witness the ‘unintentional’ embrace from behind you, and out of all the new memories he’s made, that is one he’d pay to burn to ash. He hates this feeling, this jealousy. This possessiveness consumes him like a famished beast tearing into its feast. Nothing would please him more than ridding himself of the intrusion, keeping you to himself for none of the world to see. Alas, he bites back the lechery, swallowing the lump along with a spoonful of fried rice.

“Jihoon.”

His attention captured by the sound of your voice, he looks back at you expectantly. "Yes?"

Your grin immediately softens his cold demeanor and loosens the grip he hadn't realized he had on his spoon.

“Are you going to give yourself any grace and momentarily take your eyes off work? I’m grateful for everything you’re doing, but I can’t help but be concerned for your well-being.”

Your formal vernacular twists the knife already sunken in his chest, and he can’t suppress the soft sigh of acceptance that makes past his lips. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t act so familiar with me. As your lawyer, there are boundaries we should breach. Thank you for your concern, but it’s superfluous to prolong it.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan finally addresses Jihoon after seeing the color drain from your face. “She was only being nice. You don’t have to act like an ass with your pretentious vocabulary.”

“Seungkwan!” you scold, turning his angry scrutiny away from the man opposite him with a slap on the back. “Calm down. He’s right,” you glance back at Jihoon, picking through his meal with disinterest, hiding the guilt that swallows up his appetite. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help but feel guilty.”

“It’s alright.” He pushes up his frames. “Perhaps, I was harsh. I’m taking this case seriously, for your benefit. I assure you every minute counts.”

“I believe it. Still, you perform best in peak condition right?”

A hint of a smile touches his lips. “I suppose so.”

Seungkwan scoots closer to you, hugging your arm to his side, batting his eyelashes like butterflies fluttering in the wind. His hand falls in your hair, threading his fingers through tangled strands. He draws his lips close to your ear, speaking in a mellow yet effervescent tone that sends even the man opposite of him into shivers. “Let him do his job, sweetheart. It sounds like you’re in good hands. Just focus on laying low with me. I’m sure it’s what Hyunkwan would’ve wanted.”

You don’t have the fight to argue, and the argument ends as quickly as it began, leaving a bitter taste in its wake. It’s the most you and Jihoon had spoken since Seungkwan unexpectedly moved in. The overly affectionate newcomer has effectively blocked all advances either of you make, having this arrangement be a harrowing, sexually frustrating hell to say the least.

Jihoon knows intimacy is impossible under these circumstances, out of the question with the risk of being caught, but he underestimates Seungkwan and his tenacity. His meddlesome demeanor stands like a wall between you and your formerly estranged lover. Seungkwan is a constant, his interference a source of endless aggravation. Every attempt Jihoon made to navigate the situation was thwarted by Seungkwan, who inserted himself in every scenario possible.

And there’s something you are oblivious to that Jihoon isn't: the intent behind your brother-in-law’s eyes. Seungkwan possesses an intense, disturbing gaze that makes the lawyer’s blood run cold. At a mere glimpse, Jihoon could feel the hairs of his body stand on all ends, raising his already made suspicion that he isn’t to be trusted with even a pet rock. The lawyer can recreate from memory that chilling gaze that’s sharp as a blade, as if sketching a portrait of a criminal on the run. 

And if it isn’t obvious enough, Seungkwan holds an apparent animosity towards Jihoon, unwavering. Whether it's through necessary legal interactions or simply sharing a space, Seungkwan's hostility is evident. His dislike for Jihoon is palpable and persistent, an enduring tension that time doesn't seem to diminish. The sentiment, unsurprisingly, is mutual; Jihoon harbors an equal measure of antipathy towards the young heir. 

However, unlike the childish rival, the older man knows how to pick his fights. He doesn’t let the other man intimidate him more than he already does. A few glares and obnoxious scoffs isn’t enough to deter the lawyer’s confidence. Seungkwan acts like a puppy around you, a shameless, lovesick puppy trailing after his master, and that’s all he’ll ever be. Jihoon knows he’s different. Different in the looks you cast at him or the secretive touches you make throughout the day just out of the other man’s view. You actually love him. Undeniably. Rest assured, Seungkwan, at the end of the day, will be a passing thought after the investigation is resolved; at least that’s what Jihoon tells himself.

It’s like any other day when Jihoon's focus shifts from his work, hearing a cheerful voice say, "Knock, knock." Seungkwan, the man who constantly occupies his thoughts, stands confidently in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Mr. Boo,” Jihoon greets indifferently, “How can I help you?”

"Please, call me Seungkwan," Seungkwan insists with a disarming smile, "Mr. Boo is my father."

“Well, then, Seungkwan,” He barely managed to keep the documents in his hand from falling off the already towering stack of papers on the corner of his desk as he set them aside. “Is there anything you need from me? Is she asking for me?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that.” The young heir closes the door behind him and walks over to the desk with unbridled confidence. “She’s preoccupied with something much more important.”

“I see. Then, what brings you here?”

The plush leather chair behind the imposing mahogany desk creaks ominously under the weight of the man who occupies it. A cold shiver snakes its way down his spine, and the air in the room seems to thicken. The once amiable mask slips out of view before the lawyer’s very eyes, leaving their true dark colors in its wake.

Gone is the casual slouch and the easy smile. The intruder leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening with the force of his hold. His shadow falls over the furniture, looming large over the man seated behind it. The once friendly eyes now hold a steely glint, boring into Jihoon, and the lawyer tastes something he’s had before: displeasure with his mere existence, just like your mother years ago, only if she’d had a knife behind her back.

"You need a stern talking to, Mr. Lawyer." Seungkwan leaves no room for misinterpretation as he embodies disdain, spitting the last two words, laden with mockery.

Jihoon’s expression doesn’t falter, his innocuous stoicism is kept strong as he decides to entertain his guest’s obnoxious efforts. “About anything in particular?”

Seungkwan scoffs, narrowing his eyes that look as if they could bulge out of his head. “How about the fact you’re living in this house with a woman you’re not married to? A fresh widow at that.”

“Mr. Boo, I assure you, I’m just doing my job—”

“Then, stay in your lane,” he hisses. “It’s as easy as pushing you into—” Seungkwan cuts off his thoughts as he runs a hand through his hair, expelling the rage building up inside him in deep sighs. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, Mr. Lee.”

Jihoon feigns ignorance, tilting his head to the side in mock confusion. “I don’t follow.”

“Bullshit!” Seungkwan swings his hands over a neatly stacked pile of papers, startling the once composed lawyer as the pages fan around the room and lie scattered on the ground. The cause of destruction slams his hands against the desk, worn chips of wood falling to their demise. “You don’t think I don’t see the way you look at her? How she looks at you? You’re him, aren’t you? The little ex-boyfriend she gave up to marry my brother and please her family.”

Jihoon gets up from his seat, having heard enough as a scowl threatens an appearance. “You are jumping to conclusions. I am just here to represent her in court.”

“STOP,” Seungkwan shouts from the top of his lungs, face twisted in a grimace, “telling me what I am doing. I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He backs him into a corner, the lawyer relenting his body to the hostility as he reigns in his own anger, displacing it in his fists before putting an arm between them as a barrier. The corners of Seungkwan’s lips tug up arrogantly, shoving himself against the pathetic excuse of a defense. “I fucking looked you up. You are a measly family lawyer. Now, are you going to stay here and stand in the fate of my destiny, or am I going to have to force my fucking hand?”

“...What do you mean by that, Mr. Boo?” Jihoon treads lightly, his forearm shoving back into his assailant.

“I mean,” he bends his neck forward to peer into the other’s soul, the manic in his eyes gradually intensIfying. “I am not afraid to get dirt under my fingers if you overlook your work lusting after something you can’t covet even in your dreams.”

Now the boy’s gone too far. Jihoon’s pride is suddenly on the line, and he’s quick to defend himself. “Now hold on—”

“Why don’t you,” the menace jabs his index finger into the other man’s chest with every word, “hold on and get a grip of reality, unless you want to find yourself in a ditch becoming worm food.”

The fragments of information started coalescing within the recesses of Jihoons's mind, drawing from the vast expanse of his memories of living in the shared residence. Each piece slots into place, and the picture becomes clear. His eyes flare on as the realization dawns on him.

"Y-you," he stammers, his body going stiff. "It was you. You killed him, didn’t you?"

Seungkwan's lip curls in a sneer, his grip loosening for the briefest moment, a flicker of vulnerability quickly replaced by a surge of aggression. With a forceful shove, he slams the other man, a pained groan escaping his lips as his backside collides with the wall behind him as he feels the bruises etch into his skin. "Congratulations," Seungkwan displays his master class act of sarcasm, "You want a cookie?"

“Why on earth would you tell me this?” Jihoon’s voice booms, proving his strength as he takes the offense, seeing the other’s feet stumble to find the ground beneath them.

“Because you’re not going to fucking say a thing if you want to stay alive. I know people in high places. I can snap you and your lineage in half.”

“She wouldn’t want this—”

Seungkwan palm crashes right by Jihoon’s head, missing him by a hair. “She doesn’t have to know. All you have to worry about, though,” he points at him, “is getting her free. Pin it on anyone, literally. A jealous maid, one of his mistresses, a rival client. My brother has more enemies than you can count with all four hands and feet.”

Jihoon fixes his shirt as the heir pulls away, disgusted as he dusts himself of debris that could’ve deflected on him. “It’s the matter of evidence, Mr. Boo.”

“Make some.” Seungkwan hisses before turning to the exit, satisfied with his threat, and stopping once he’s breached the door and leaving Jihoon with his bidding words. “Do your fucking job. Or I’ll just have to pin it on you.”

Jihoon scans his surroundings; the mess conjured in a fit of anger points right in the direction of the culprit hidden under his nose. A fiery rage burns inside the man as he takes his turn slamming his desk with his fist, raking his hands in his hair as his composure comes crashing down. Never in his life had he met someone of Seungkwan's caliber—rude and demeaning soon-to-be divorcees, sure—but nothing like the monster that marked his territory in that room.

His hands shake erratically as he picks up the fallen documents, crinkling in his hands as he forms fists. A shattered sigh breaks free. His heart hammers rapidly at an unmeasurable pace. Perspiration coats his entire body, seeping through the fabric of his clothes to show stains of his uncontainable rage. All Jihoon sees is red, and it will be a frozen day in hell before he relents you to that psychopath. He just has to be smart, and unfortunately that involves you out of the way. Your case—your freedom is still his top priority, but as Seungkwan so enthusiastically suggested, getting his hands dirty is the only way to do it.

The event goes unnoticed by the owner of the home, cleaning up your own mess upstairs in your bedroom as you shuffle through your things in your closet. You look over all the things you’ve left behind, reacquainting with items that only serve as reminders of everything that’s transpired the last few months.

It should be easy knowing he’s gone now, but it does not take away that he was somewhat present for your early adulthood. Whether you like it or not, Hyunkwan’s death affected you, but more than anything, it worried you about the future to come. And like clockwork, your parents call while you’re in the midst of collecting your thoughts, speaking only of the merger and how it now changes things.

Naturally, as next in line, Seungkwan would take his brother’s place in the executive position, keeping the legacy that was left behind, and it leaves you to maintain close ties. Because as the only living heir left, he holds almost power, it’s only a matter of time before he and his family realizes that your family has no place in the Boo empire. After an appropriate time has passed, and the investigation eliminates you as a suspect, it’d only be right for you to join your brother-in-law as his wife. Only your parents would suggest you plan the possibility of engagement as a future course of action.

Dread washes over you as you speak. You feared this would happen. Your parents, with their incessant need to control every aspect of your life, had taken it upon themselves to arrange your second marriage when the body of your first husband has yet to hit the ground. The fact that they have already booked a wedding venue, without even consulting you, is a testament to how little they care about your happiness.

Despite being a fully grown adult, you feel trapped in a perpetual childhood, your parents' controlling grip as tight as ever. Their actions are a constant reminder that they still see you as a child, incapable of making your own decisions. The suffocating feeling is as strong as ever, reminding you why you are hardly willing to talk to them.

Now, with Seungkwan around your house, your parents must be over the moon at the news. It works very well in their favor. However, you aren’t feeling as keen knowing what that means for your current living arrangement with Jihoon. While you typically enjoy Seungkwan's company, it’s hard to be excited with the weight of possible engagement and lack of opportunity to sate the longing of your reunited lover.

You miss Jihoon desperately, and being forced to be separate only makes you crave him more. You've resorted to unusual comms, using secret signals, and hiding your incriminatingly suggestive messages. The need for discretion and secrecy has become necessary, seeing as carving out any sliver of alone time with Jihoon has been impossible because of Seungkwan's constant presence. This boy is an innocent bystander in all this mess. If anything, you feel bad that Seungkwan got so heavily involved, considering he had just lost his only brother. He must feel so down under that happy facade.

“Are you incompetent or plain fucking stupid?”

The voice, chillingly familiar yet unnerving in its unexpected proximity as you take the route to the stairs, blaring loud enough to be coherent from just behind a tightly shut guest room door. It sends a shiver down your spine, a voice you recognize but can't immediately place.

“What’s it going to take to get some real fucking progress…Yes, I gave him a warning. Are you an idiot?”

Your breath catches in your throat while your feet freeze in place. Every muscle tenses as you strain to decipher the torrent of words erupting from the other side of the door. Their voice is so alive with an intemperate anger, each syllable dripping with bitterness. This is a side of your brother-in-law you have never encountered before, something you’d never associate with the man you thought you knew so well.

You cling to the door, careful to avoid making a sound, and listen as the angry ramblings continue. The words paint a picture of a man who apparently is still a stranger to you, a far cry from the Seungkwan who always was kind and sweet to you as someone who was family only by obligation. You can't help but wonder what you have missed to not know this side of him.

This is the man who always seems to have everything under control and gets everything he wants, now unraveling before you.

Boo Seungkwan, just what is going on inside that head?

Before the proposal…

"The butler did it." 

You playfully throw a popcorn kernel at him. "You don't know that!"

"It's always the butler," Jihoon retorts dryly, his voice deep and resonant.

This is one of your many cherished weekends spent with Jihoon. Whether it is curled up with a good book, enjoying peaceful slumber, or as is the case tonight, debating between mystery movies and true crime documentaries, your time together is always precious. Tonight, you were in the mood for a suspenseful mystery, something to keep you on the edge of your seat.

"This is all so predictable," Jihoon sighs, feigning boredom.

"Oh, stop being such a Negative Nancy and just enjoy the movie, will you?" you playfully chide, snuggling closer to him on the couch, seeking to dispel his discontent. 

You know, despite his critiques, he’s enjoying this more than he lets on because of your company. As he’s told you before, movie night is never boring with you around. You nuzzle your head into his shoulder, and the clean scent of his soap and his radiating warmth puts you at ease. You feel the warmth of his chin resting on your head; it’s comforting weight making you melt deeper in his touch. His chuckle rumbles through his chest, making his body vibrate pleasantly against yours, and you feel a content smile tug at your lips. 

"It's kinda hard to enjoy the movie when the camera keeps zooming in on a naked torso every five minutes," he snorts.

"Sexy suspects make for a sexy murder mystery." you retort, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Whatever they're being paid, it's not enough."

You both continue to exchange witty remarks as the movie progresses, dissecting the plot and playfully mocking the characters' over-the-top reactions. Jihoon's playful commentary and your shared laughter fill the room. The suspenseful twists and turns keep you both engaged, invested even, and you both feel at peace in each other’s presence.

"Huh, so it wasn't the butler." 

You shake your head, overflowing with pride. "Nope, everyone always dismisses my most innocent looking one," you reply with a smug grin. "The brother had all the motive, and he played the victim perfectly." You turn to your boyfriend, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “If you were in the midst of a murder crime scene, how would you prove your innocence? Do you think you could outsmart the detective or shift suspicion onto the others?

He scoffs, confidently answering, "I wouldn't need to.”

You raise a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Once you're in the game long enough, that's when the pressure hits," Jihoon explains, crossing his arms and huffing his chest. "They will start pointing fingers, and the 'culprit' will either reveal themselves or look guilty enough just to be guilty. Innocence doesn't matter as much as perception."

"Wow, you're more cynical than I thought," you note with a hint of intrigue. "Is it weird that I find you hotter for that now?"

Jihoon chuckles, his eyes softening as he leans in to kiss you. "You're such a weirdo," he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with affection, soon reveling in the moans that fill his mouth.

The movie's final scene flickers on the screen, the volume a soft murmur in the background. Neither of you pays it any attention, your lips meeting each other endlessly as his arm clutches your backside, pressing your bodies together. The heat of his body and the steadily growing rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment as the flickering light of the screen casts dancing shadows on the walls, and you bask in its warmth.

"You know," you begin to say in an unserious tone as you pull away slightly, "even if you did kill someone...I wouldn't let you get caught."

Jihoon arches a brow, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and he parts your hair away from your face. "If I kill someone, you run in the other direction. I'm bloodthirsty, remember?"

With playful indignation, you inch away and retort, “Are you saying you’d run from me if I killed someone?"

He pauses, considering your question with mock seriousness. His hands have a mind of their own as he reels you back towards him to hold you in a firm embrace, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well...you're too sexy to give up to the cops."

You laugh, lightly punching his arm. "Mr. Lawyer! Where is your sense of justice?"

He shrugs, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, "I'm selfish. The culprit can't be that bad if it's you.”

You cup his face, leaning into his touch. "You give me too much credit."

"No," he counters, drags the tip of his nose over the side of his jaw. "I just think I'd be happy to be your accomplice."

You let out a small squeal, feeling his breath tickle the column of your neck. "Oh, you love me so bad."

"Yes," he breathes, his lips finding yours in a kiss that has you explode from the inside, "I do."

The credits roll, and the movie's final notes fade into silence, but the night has just begun. In the dim light of the room, with the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you move even closer to each other, melting into one another until it drowns out the next movie that automatically plays. It isn’t any mystery what other exciting events transpired that night.

Present day…

Jihoon has devised a plan for the impending evening. He just needs to get Seungkwan alone for just a moment to coax him to the point of threats, putting him into a compromising situation that could be documented and subsequently utilized as irrefutable evidence. The absurdity of the situation isn't lost on Jihoon; he’s never felt more like a cable show cliche. All the late night viewings of crime shows from childhood up until now has caught up with him, and finally he’s making use of their unorthodox, bizarre methods.

Ever since that unnerving confrontation with Seungkwan in the confines of the office, Jihoon had been grappling with a rising tide of unease. And he’d had just about enough images of this psycho trying to get cozy with you when he was present. It’s about time Seungkwan gets exposed for the person he really is and keeps your name off the docket.

Seungkwan stands before the lawyer in the secluded area of the house, hardly occupied by anything but dust and untouched furniture. The young man’s usual sunny disposition is replaced by an air of annoyance. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, and his brow is furrowed. "Okay, I'm here," he says flatly, his voice laced with impatience, "What is it?"

Jihoon moves cautiously towards the other man, feeling his heart in his throat. His eyes stay ahtead, nervously aware of his phone tucked discreetly into his pocket, perfectly positioned to capture the scene in front of him. He clears his throat, "There's something I'm failing to understand," he begins, his tone measured but firm.

Seungkwan's response is sharp, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he lets out an arrogant scoff. "You mean like work ethic?"

His gaze locks onto the other man's face. "I just want to know…why and how?" His tone remains polite, but an undeniable edge that makes the young heir’s intimidating mask reveal an irreparable crack.

“What are you talking about, Lee?”

Seungkwan's face contorts with a crooked smile. His eyes narrow as he glares at Jihoon. The question that hangs in the air, although vague, conveys its meaning and its clear intent of the response it is to receive. Seungkwan's jaw clenched, his body language screaming his contempt. He knows exactly what Jihoon is insinuating, and the mere suggestion is enough to make his blood boil.

The lawyer simply smiles, satisfied to know he’s hit a nerve. “My curiosity is just piqued. It’s not every day I come across a murderer.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, smirking. “Takes some balls for you to say that to me.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Just color me curious.”

“Why? Want to peer into the eyes of a dead man?”

It’s like taking candy from a baby. “You know that well, don’t you? Second hand at least. The same hands you like to get dirty.”

“What are you getting—Wait a minute.” Seungkwan storms over to the other man only to see him take a full step back. 

Suddenly more alert, the younger man's eyes narrow, suspicion etched onto his face as he scrutinizes the other. With a sudden burst of movement, he lunges forward, gripping the man's forearms in a vice-like hold. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and he can practically see beads of sweat forming on his enemy’s forehead. "You're hiding something," he accuses, his voice laced with certainty.

Jihoon strains against the other man's grip, his mind racing. He knows Seungkwan's reputation for pushing boundaries, but this is a blatant disrespect for his personal space. "Mr. Boo—”

However, Seungkwan is relentless. With a deft maneuver, he reaches into Jihoon's pocket and extracts his phone. A triumphant smirk curls his lips as he sees the recording app displayed on the screen. "You must think I’m a moron?"

He throws the phone on the ground before crushing it under his heel. Jihoon stares blankly at his evidence as it gets repeatedly smashed, the deafening sounds of the other man’s stomps rendering him speechless. Seungkwan grabs his collar, eyes wide with an indecipherable fury. “Plan on joining my brother for the case? How passionate. You must really want an early retirement.”

“Is anyone here?” Your voice echoes from the hallway, and the aggressive man is bitterly forced to release the other.

“Just in this room, sweetheart. Wanted to discuss something with Mr. Lee here.”

You appear at the door, swinging it open to peer inside. “I heard a noise and thought to check. No matter how many times I walk through this house, I always find something that takes me by surprise.”

“That’s alright. We were just enthusiastically discussing current events. Nothing to concern you with, just boring man interests,” he eyes the man he just previously attacked, “Isn’t that right?”

“...Yes. All is fine, Miss.”

"Yeah, but I hear something really loud, like stomping? Smashing?" you persist, your brow furrowed with concern. The sounds are so distinct, you couldn't have just imagined it.

Seungkwan pauses, his expression thoughtful. "Hmm, strange," he muses, feigning deep contemplation. "Perhaps it is an animal—"

"Oh my god, someone's phone is destroyed!" You rush over to the scene of the commotion, where an unsalvageable device lies smashed beyond recognition. "Does this belong to either of you?"

Seungkwan's face takes on a look of feigned realization. "Ah, that," he chuckles, "Perhaps we've acted more aggressively with our quips than we realize. That, my dear, belongs to—" 

"It's mine," Jihoon interjects, his voice flat. "Someone probably must've stepped on it repeatedly when we got in the fight."

"Fight?" you repeat, your voice rising an octave.

Seungkwan waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, sweetheart, he’s joking. You are just too gullible—”

"Yeah, we fought." Jihoon shoved past his assailant forcefully, his eyes blazing with defiance as he took his place beside you. "Seungkwan has something he's hiding from you, and before you—"

He takes your hand, grasping it affectionately, leaving you momentarily stunned. Before you could utter a response, another voice cut through the tension.

"Mr. Lee. This game of pretend is going too far. We had only discussed humorously if any of us happened to be the murderer. All in good fun." Seungkwan’s voice is firm, touched with disapproval, as the light started slowly leaving his eyes.

"Kwan? What—"

"Don't believe a word he says, Angel." Jihoon's voice was low and urgent, holding your hand firmer and taking the initiative to step in front of you.

Your eyes widen at your pet name, your heart momentarily stopping to take everything in. "Jihoon—"

Seungkwan's sweet, innocent facade wavers. "Angel," he repeats, feigning ignorance. The word lingers on his lips like a bitter taste before he clenches his jaw. “Does this collaboration go deeper than described, sweetheart?”

You gently wave your hand, gesturing for him to calm down. “Seungkwan, calm down. We—I can explain, but tell me, what is it both of you are talking about? What fight?”

Seungkwan's jaw clenches. "I told you, sweetheart. It's nothing," he repeats, his voice strained.

“No, stop changing the subject! What are you hiding from me?”

Jihoon's arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he watches Seungkwan's agitation grow. "He's been lying to you, Angel," Jihoon's voice is low and cautious. "He knows exactly what happened to his brother."

“Hyunkwan? What—” 

Seungkwan’s menacing laughter echoes throughout the vast room. “You’re really pushing my buttons right now. Instead of the theatrics, I suggest you stick to your day job.”

"Seungkwan," you intervene, your voice trembling with disbelief, "you couldn't have possibly..."

"Of course not, sweetheart," he insists desperately, keeping up with his ruse, "As if I had anything to do with my own brother's death. That's preposterous! It's a farce. This lawyer you hired has clearly lost his marbles."

"Jihoon would never lie to me. What aren't you telling me?"

"...Jihoon,” He looks aimlessly in the room with a sardonic smirk. “ You’re on a first-name basis, I see."

"I trust his intuition," you assert firmly, "More than anyone else."

His expression hardens, a wounded note creeping into his voice, "How... how can you say that when... you have me?"

Jihoon had about enough. “He killed him, Angel.”

“Shut. Up.” 

"Seungkwan," you stammer, the truth lodging in your throat like a large pill. It's hard to swallow, but like you said, Jihoon would never lie to you. "You...you killed—"

Seungkwan smoothly cuts you off, "You're really going to believe this stranger over me, darling? And for an accusation so far-fetched? Don't stoop to his level of intelligence, sweetheart."

"Stop patronizing me," you retort loudly. "Did you or did you not kill your brother?"

"I didn't!" Seungkwan's voice booms, intensity burning within his eyes. You can see the sincerity in them, the desperation for you to believe him, but his composure momentarily shatters, and instead you feel a shiver run down your spine at the raw emotion in his voice. You look from Seungkwan's furious face to Jihoon's grim expression, your heart pounding loud enough for everyone to hear loud and clear. At a disadvantage, he uses the moment to take a deep breath, self-sedating. "Of course."

"Boo Seungkwan," You take a deep exhale. "Tell me the truth. Did you or did you not kill Hyunkwan?"

Seungkwan laughs, but it's hollow and devoid of humor. "You're kidding yourself if you believe any of this crap—"

"Don't make me ask again," you warn, your patience wearing thin.

“You might have to, Angel,” Jihoon interjects, muttering in your ear, “Looks like he won't quit.”

"STOP... calling her angel, you insufferable swine."

“Seungkwan!” you exclaim, heart shatteringly so.

Seungkwan's eyes narrow dangerously at the man in front of you. "All you've done is get between me and my darling here. How many times do I have to so kindly remind you?”

Jihoon scoffs in disbelief at how he can keep lying. "Did you give that same kind of mercy to Hyunkwan?"

"You rat ba—"

"Stop it, you two," you fiercely interrupt.

"Fine.” With a defiant glare at Jihoon, the accused grabs your hand and tugs you towards him, leaving Jihoon standing alone, losing his confidence seeing you follow after Seungkwan.

Seungkwan's touch is gentle yet firm, his hands gliding over your shoulders and then up to your head, fingers threading through your hair. His gaze holds a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine, but it also ignites a blind fury in Jihoon's eyes.

"I’ll tell you. All of it," Seungkwan's voice is low and steady, "And maybe then you'll understand where I’m coming from."

Jihoon takes a step forward, "Angel-"

"Enough, Jihoon." You turn to face him, your expression stern, "Seungkwan has something to say. Don't cross the line."

Jihoon's heart sinks. You have never spoken to him that way before. The sting of your words is sharp, the disappointment in your eyes even sharper. A sense of dread settles in his stomach, and he feels as if he can die in a hole.

"Kwan," you gently take his hand, "I'm listening."

"Thank you, sweetheart. You've always been so understanding." His voice is colored with a subtle desperation, a plea for absolution masked by affection.

"You're very important to me," you respond, your voice trembling slightly. "Anything you have to tell me, I'll handle it with the same care I've always shown you."

"You really are the embodiment of love..." His voice cracks, the facade of calm crumbling. "...which makes this all the more difficult to admit." He pulls you into his embrace, your warmth melting the harshness of his prior mood. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I did it," he confesses, his voice barely audible.

His eyes, glistening adoration now joined by teary guilt. "I killed him."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your lips parting in a silent gasp. "Kwan..." 

"You know I would treat you so much better than my brother ever could..." He drowns in his twisted conviction. "I love you...enough to kill."

"How could you—”

"It was the only way," he insists, his grip tightening on you. "And now nothing can stop us from being together."

Your silence, born of bewilderment, is unreadable. Yet, a flicker of triumph dances in his eyes, quickly replaced by a softer emotion as he misconstrues lack of protest with immediate acceptance. "Absolutely nothing," he murmurs.

He cups your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering tantalizingly close. His surroundings melts all around him, leaving only the intensity of his  delusion that crosses the line with obsession. Just as his lips brush against yours, a single word shatters the spell.

“Except.”

Seungkwan's soft chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. His breath caresses your skin as he tenderly whispers, "Except what, my love?" 

"Me." You meet his gaze with an icy stare, your voice devoid of emotion. "I will never love the way you love me."

"...What?"

Before he can comprehend the full extent of your rejection, the door to the room bursts open. A wave of armed officers floods the space, their weapons trained on Seungkwan. "Put your hands up!" they command, their voices echoing through the room.

Seungkwan's eyes widen in panic as he raises his hands in surrender. You take a step back, putting distance between yourself and the man who has held you captive in his twisted affection. As the officers close in on Seungkwan, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Liberated to be free from the clutches of a man that suffocates you with his ‘love.’

“Sweetheart—”

“Stay where you are, Boo Seungkwan. You have the right to remain silent,” the officer continues, unfazed by Seungkwan’s pleas as they run through the whole spiel necessary. The click of the handcuffs echoes in the tense silence, stealing his free reign.

“What the hell is this? Did you do this, Lee?” Seungkwan spits, his gaze burning into Jihoon.

You take control of the conversation before Jihoon can argue. “No, he has nothing to do with this. I did.”

“My love…WHY?!”

"How did you know?" Jihoon asks softly, his gaze gentle as the hardened exterior he puts up to hide his true sentiment dissolves.

"I heard him," A hint of a smile touches your lips as you meet his gaze. "When he didn’t know I was listening, I heard everything. So I set this up. For definite proof."

With swift, deliberate movements, you begin to unbutton your dress shirt. The room is plunged into a shocked silence, the only sound the rushed soft rustle of fabric as your fingers work their way down the buttons. Several eyes, including Jihoon, instinctively avert their gaze, some faces visibly more affected than others. A wave of murmurs ripples through the room, but one voice unexpectedly rises in alarm.

“Sweetheart, stop that right now!” Seungkwan commands in a cracking voice, choking through his tears.

You ignore him, your fingers stilling on the buttons as your attention is turned to the person most shocked from your abrupt actions. "Look at me, Hoon." 

Jihoon's face flushes crimson as he reluctantly relents to your request, staggering with bulging eyes from what he sees. He laughs humorlessly, not believing the extent you took, but of course you did. "You seriously-"

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you carefully detach the thin wire discreetly taped to the fabric of your camisole, protecting your exposed skin from the cold, hard hardware. "It's not a coincidence the police know exactly when to come in," you declare triumph.

Jihoon's expression shifts from disbelief to begrudging admiration. "I should've known," he mutters, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Expected of a true crime junkie."

"But that's one of the many things you love about me, isn't it?" With a teasing grin, you hand the recording device over to a nearby officer before rushing into Jihoon's open arms and surprise attack him with a slap to his shoulder, eliciting a dramatic wince from him. "That was incredibly stupid of you," you scold, "What if he had actually hurt you?"

"Speak for yourself," Jihoon lightly retorts. Yet, he hesitates, the dejection he felt from your harsh act lingering. However, slowly and surely, he matches your relief and gently pulls you closer by the waist. "You don't know what could've gone wrong getting so close to him like that."

"But nothing did," you counter cheekily, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

The officers tighten their grip on Seungkwan's arms as he struggles in their clutches, his gaze locks onto your figure, which is turned away from him. "Sweetheart," he chokes out in desperation, "How could you?" Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision as the pain in his chest spreads throughout his entire body.

You pause, your footsteps faltering for a moment before you step away from Jihoon, who stands a few feet away, cautiously observing your movements. Your face remains impassive,  masking yourself with indifference, concealing the turmoil if it existed. "You have to pay for your crimes, Mr. Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan's shoulders slump as the reality of the situation sinks in. "Hyunkwan was awful. You despised him just as much as I did. I just gave him what he deserved."

Your eyes recover a glint of something akin to understanding, momentarily softening the harsh twists of your features. Your eyes meet his as you concede with soft sincerity, "I do understand that you care about me, and for that, I am truly grateful."

Your eyebrows dip slightly as you continue, taking a deep breath, and your expression shifts, a shadow falling over the planes of your face. Your mercy is indiscernible, and you are unrecognizable. “But to do that to your own brother..."

"I did it for you!" Seungkwan roars, his voice echoing through the room as he struggles against the officers' restraints. "I did it for us!"

Your gaze hardens. "It got me arrested," you remind him sharply. "There is no us. You were my brother-in-law, whom I found solace in and confided in. I thought you were my friend, Seungkwan."

Seungkwan's eyes widen in disbelief. "We're more than that," he insists, his voice trembling with suppressed anger, "We are meant to be together! We were brought together by fate, don't you see it? I should've been the one set up to marry you, not my brother! I love you."

You shake your head slowly knowingly. "No..." you murmur, "You love coveting what was your brother's: his house, his company, love and attention from your parents. And you used me as a pawn. I don't ever want to see your face ever again."

Seungkwan's patience snaps. "Why are you behaving like this? We are-"

"Alright, Richie Rich," one of the officers interrupts, his voice gruff and impatient, "Time to go." They tighten their grip on Seungkwan and begin to lead him away. His protests fade into the distance as the officers escort him down the hallway, A wave of relief washes over you as Seungkwan's voice disappears. Finally to yourselves with nothing to interrupt you. You turn to Jihoon, your face breaking into a radiant smile as you throw yourself into his arms ."I missed you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and your confession burns his skin as his arms tighten around you. "Now, I'll never give you the opportunity to feel that way again." 

There amidst the flashing lights blaring from nearby windows and adrenaline finally dying down, you shamelessly melt into each others’ touch, comforted knowing there’s no one that can’t take this away from either of you.

It isn’t long after you’re relinquished from your suspect status, and you hear about the aftermath of the case. Seungkwan’s parents, devastated by the monster they raised and remorseful for the late Hyunkwan, refuse to pay his bail. The weight of their son's crimes presses heavily upon them, their hearts aching for the son they lost and the one they failed. However, despite the turmoil the brothers have caused, you hold no animosity towards the Boos. They had been caught in the web of their youngest son's dark, twisted deceit. With a heavy heart, you choose to leave them be, allowing the couple in misery to retreat from the wreckage of their lives without further retribution.

And the Boos’ continued cooperation derived from the guilt and gratitude, along with their descending reputation, your parents no longer find it necessary to push you into another marriage. You sense a lingering bit of regret as they finally surrender your autonomy, unsure of whether it's because of the horrifying situation they've forced you into or their unwillingness to let you go. You don't dwell on it and instead revel in your time well spent with Jihoon, using every given opportunity to make up for lost time.

Your relationship reaches new heights as he moves in with you. Leaving behind the dark vibes of your previous lodging, the new place feels quaint and cozy in comparison. It’s as grand as anything your parents would have provided, and that’s perfect for you. You envision yourself building a family here, reminiscing in the new memories you make over a warm meal or under the warm glow of the television—just as you dreamt it would be with him. Everything falls right into place. Days are shorter, nights are longer, and every second of it feels as if you've fallen for him all over again. You couldn't ask for anything more. Your heart feels so full.

However, there is one last thing you need to do to truly feel at peace. Something you know will gnaw at you if you delay it any further.

“Hello, Seungkwan.”

You speak sternly into the metal receiver attached to the wall beside you, connecting you with a beloved former relative. Your deposition translates well over the call, but Seungkwan still looks at you with a sense of yearning, visibly battling the betrayal that stands in the way of the joy of your visit.

Seungkwan smiles grimly. "My love, you look well. How disappointing."

Lacking sympathy, you retort with a roll of your eyes and a wry smirk. “I just wanted to bid you a final farewell in jail. Someone has to, not like your parents will.”

His forced smile wavers, the corner of his lips twitching involuntarily with suppressed anger, and any semblance of warmth portrayed by a congenial smile. "How incredibly thoughtful of you," he says through gritted teeth.

"Generous of me, isn't it?" You reply with mock sweetness, your taunting not lost on you. "Well, I've done what I set out to do. I'll take my leave now. Brother."

"Hey!" Seungkwan's voice explodes in the tense silence, his composure shattered. His eyes blaze with indignation. "You think you can waltz in here like it's the zoo? I'm not an animal exhibit."

"Could've fooled me, considering you couldn't control your bloodlust like a filthy animal."

His face contorts with rage, gripping the phone in a vice, and he speaks over you harshly. "You're not innocent in all this, sweetheart. Your boy toy will realize that soon enough."

You scoff, your confidence unwavering. "He won't, because you're the one behind bars. You're the murderer."

His laughter is hollow, mirthless. "Don't play with me. You wanted him gone just as much as I did. You even conspired with me, even if it was in jest... You and I both know it."

You firmly cup your hand over the receiving end of the phone, responding to his threats sharply, with no room to argue. "But he never will." You cross your arms with a defiant tilt to your chin, chuckling disparagingly at his loose temperament. You find it easy to add fuel to the fire. "Orange always was your color."

Desperation seeps into Seungkwan's voice, a plea replacing the earlier malice. "You can't do this to me—"

"Good bye, Kwan. Enjoy your life sentence."

With those words, you cut off communication, slamming the metal phone receiver against its cradle, letting it echo in the small, sterile room as you turn to leave. Seungkwan's enraged screams follow you, muffled by the thick glass and quickly silenced by the guards escorting him away.

Now, there’s your peace.

[jakesimlover444]

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: as long as i exist, someone loves you.

warnings/genre: bsfs to lovers, hyunjin is pining, insecure yn, heavy ass make out between reader and hyunjin

wc: 1373

based on this req

another saturday night.

another failed date.

yn laid on her bed, eyes filled to the brim with tears, texting her best friend about her terrible night.

yn: he was such a fucking asshole.

hyunjin: the guy who went on the date with?? what‘d he to do you??

yn: god, where do i even start 💀

hyunjin: hold on. i‘m coming over

yn was smiling on the inside at her best friend’s concern, but her grin couldn’t be brought to her exterior, as her feelings of greif far overpowered any joy she could fathom.

tossing her phone on her pillow with a heavy sigh, yn turned onto her back to face her ceiling, eyes locked on her fan spinning above her. she still wore her cute little sweater and skirt that gave the classiest old-money heiress vibe she picked out for her date with alejandro tonight.

yn finally sat up and made her way out to her kitchen and living room area the moment hyunjin arrived, letting himself in using the copy of yn‘s apartment key she gave him.

"yn.." hyunjin quietly spoke, his gaze softening at the sight of his distraught best friend. her mascara stained her plump, reddened cheeks and her once neat, perfectly blown out hair was disheveled in the back from laying down on it. those same eyes he loved so much were no longer filled with the same happy anticipation he saw this evening. they were filled with a hurting frustration. one he yearned to put an end to.

"oh yn.." hyunjin‘s voice was as gentle as his touch when he pulled yn in for a hug, not holding her too tight in fear she would break. his large, veiny hand combed the back of yn‘s hair, tenderly fixing the little knots and tangles that formed. he softly shushed her, rocking her delicate body side to side with his as dejected sobs escaped yn‘s lips, mumbling incoherent nonsense about her despondent date with alejandro.

"oh, yn…a few bad dates don‘t mean anything. the right one is waiting there for you." hyunjin comforted the crying girl, pulling back just enough to cup her reddened face. "you‘re just one step closer to finding him." hyunjin shot yn a reassuring smile, his gaze never leaving her face.

"how…how am i ever going to find the one for me if there is nobody out there who wants me?" yn spoke through her sobs, her tone coming out frustrated as she gripped hyunjin‘s t-shirt, exerting some of her pent up anger at the world and towards men into her firm grasp.

hyunjin‘s hold on yn‘s face tightened ever so subtly—not enough to hurt yn, but to implicate the irritation building in him at yn‘s self-deprecating remark.

"you think nobody out there wants you? you really think you’re not worth loving or fighting for?" hyunjin loosened his hands on yn‘s cheeks, sliding down to her narrow shoulders, giving them light squeezes.

"do you know how lucky any man would be to call you his own?" hyunjin quickly adverted his gaze before locking those dark, passionate eyes back on yn. "to have a woman like you…to have the very definition of ethereal by their side would make any man the most envied creature this world has seen. you are worth more than all the diamonds on earth, more than any artifact in these deep oceans, and more valuable than time itself. never forget that, yn."

god, if yn wasn‘t already crying because of her horrible time tonight she most definitely would have started bawling her eyes out then and there at her best friend’s words. she knew hyunjin was fond of her—obviously. they‘ve been inseparable since fifth grade. but this made her question his feelings for her a bit more. yn never got the impression hyunjin had feelings for her beyond platonic, despite everyone else attempting to convince her hyunjin was in love with her. but this passionate statement that fell from hyunjin‘s mouth almost did the job of convincing her.

almost.

but yn simply kept quiet for a moment, searching those eyes for any lies but only finding a genuine, burning ferventness.

"you give me too much credit. i‘m not that special—"

"not that special?" hyunjin cut yn off, running his hands down her arms to hold her hands, his grip as firm as his voice like he was scolding her. "yn i am so sick of you feeling like shit about yourself! god, you are the most perfect girl i have ever seen, you know that? if you could see yourself through my eyes you would see just how god took his time crafting you by hand, each detail with the utmost care. your hair as soft as the finest silk…" hyunjin‘s hand ran through yn‘s hair. "your face that remains the most beautiful i‘ve ever seen no matter what expression crosses your path.." hyunjin’s hand cupped her jaw. "you have an intelligence and stubbornness that lights a fire inside of you impossible to smother. you have a kindness that is unmatched and a drive that challenges me and dozens of others. this ambition i have seen in no one else. and the love inside of you i see you giving everywhere…makes me want to be a better man. someone worthy of you." hyunjin sighed, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "it kills me when you say nobody loves you yn, because i love you!" he spoke passionately, his eyes opening, hands coming up to let his thumbs wipe away some of yn‘s new tears at hyunjin‘s unbridled love.

"i have loved you every day since i met you. and i plan to love you every day more, if you will so let me." hyunjin‘s voice softened as he pressed his forehead against yn‘s.

"you…you love me?" yn sniffled, a flicker of hope awakening inside of her.

hyunjin nodded against yn.

"then prove it," yn teased, wanting to see just how far this love of hyunjin‘s went.

with a lick of his lips and a clear understanding of his best friend‘s message, hyunjin leaned in, staying still for a sliver of a moment just in case yn wanted to pull away. when her eyes fluttered shut and her hands rested on his forearms, hyunjin finally closed the gap between the pair, capturing yn‘s plump lips in a searing, love-filled kiss. as their lips danced together, hyunjin poured every ounce of longing and pure infatuation he‘s felt for yn since they were little. seeking entrance, hyunjin‘s tongue licked along yn‘s full bottom lip, granting him the access he so needed to fully prove to yn he means every word he‘s said.

his large hand trailed up yn‘s body, coming to rest on the small of her back to pull the girl flush against him. her soft curves and supple skin contradicted the hard planes of hyunjin‘s body so so well as she pressed up against him, allowing her hands to travel from his forearms to his buzzcut, allowing her fingers to splay across the floor of blonde hair atop his head.

their tongues melted together in a rhythm crafted by pent up feelings and unspoken words that no longer needed to escape their lips, because this kiss spoke all.

reluctantly pulling away, hyunjin ran his thick thumb over yn‘s wet bottom lip, reveling in the way their heavy breaths synced.

"do you need more proof, love?" hyunjin breathily spoke, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. with a nod, yn crashed her lips against hyunjin’s once more, this kiss much more demanding and lustful in nature.

finally moving, hyunjin backed yn against the couch, his hands coming up to the tantalizing curves of her ass to lay her down in contrast to his aggressive mouth work.

hovering over yn without breaking the soul tying kiss between them both, hyunjin‘s calloused hands roamed every curve and valley of yn‘s frame, feeling every inch of her soft skin both covered by the barrier of clothing and exposed.

when time came to finally pull away, hyunjin planted small kisses all over yn‘s blushing face, his lust falling back into his state of affection.

"believe me now, baby?" hyunjin playfully asked.

yn smiled bashfully. "yeah…"

[melodymidway]

Just a few hard pills to swallow about the Westerosi succession for Team Black stans.

The Greens weren't at all delusional or selfish to expect Aegon to be named heir.

As a matter of fact, the firstborn sons of lords and kings become heirs the moment they were born, and without the need for specification. It doesn't matter if the first wife, or the second, or the tenth, has given birth to said son. So when Otto and Alicent advocated for Aegon's birthright, they asked for a basic thing in their time and society. No matter how much people want to ignore this fact and call Aegon 'usurper', his claim was very real and very strong. This is why he, his sons and his brothers would have found themselves on the Wall at best and dead at worst even if they had adhered to Viserys's whims.

Lucerys has zero claim to Driftmark. And no, being the great-great-whatever grandson of Alyssa Velaryon doesn't make the slightest difference.

Not even legitimisation would have helped Luke retain his Velaryon heirship because he isn't a Velaryon. Period. The argument about his being Alyssa Velaryon's descendant, which is somehow supposed to justify the actual usurpation of the other House's seat, is one of the most nonsensical takes I've seen. Naturally, the noble Houses intermarry all the time. If every lord opened his pedigree and decided that he has a claim to his great-grandmother's family's castle, Westeros would drown in blood. That's why succession laws exist, as unfair as they can be. For some reason, I don't see people saying that Doran Martell should be crowned king because he's descended from Daenerys Targaryen.

Women in Westeros can and do inherit. Rhaenyra isn't special.

As the Andal law goes, a son inherits before a daughter, and a daughter inherits before an uncle. While the male primogeniture is a thing, there's a clear clause of female inheritance. Cersei becomes the Lady of Casterly Rock when her brothers are out of picture. Rhaenys operated on the same law while trying to get her lawful heirship. There are cases when uncles attempt to steal their nieces' birthright (as in the situation with Sansa Stark and her uncle Jonnel), but plenty of women do rule their ancestral seats. Saying that Rhaenyra is the first woman to be named heir is wildly inaccurate.

If Rhaenys had ascended the Iron Throne instead of Viserys, the matters of succession wouldn't have changed.

For some reason many people believe that Rhaenys's ascension would have magically wiped out male primogeniture (same for Jace if he had become king). I'm sorry to disappoint, but Laenor would have been Rhaenys's heir, not Laena. The latter would have been made one only if Laenor had met his canon fate and died with no legitimate issue. As I mentioned earlier, Rhaenys strived to get her inheritance based on Andal law, according to which she does have an advantage over her uncle Baelon and his sons. If she had been the older sister of Viserys and Daemon, she wouldn't have pressed her claim. By the same logic, if Viserys had never remarried, Rhaenyra would have had a legal advantage over Daemon (though Jaehaerys's 'brilliant' management of Rhaenys vs Viserys debate might have gotten in the way).

The Greens are pro Andal law, not anti women in power.

And these are two different things since, as it had already been said, the Andal law does include a clause of female inheritance. So no, it isn't hypocritical of Alicent to offer to make Baela heiress of Driftmark. Laenor is dead without legitimate children. Laena is equally dead. The circumstances make Baela a very viable candidate for the Velaryon heirship.

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[thisisntmyrightera]

Our Glory - Jeon Jae Joon x Fem Reader

Plot: Jae Joon leave South Korea to avoid being part of a violence scandal and arrives in America to start his life again, finding the love of his life who makes him feel human for the first time. Despite the distance, no matter how much he avoids his reality, the ghost of his past will reach him wherever he is endangering everything he has achieved.

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Violence, Angst, Drama Warning: Themes of school violence, abuse of power, minors being harassed, harsh language.

A/N: The story is inspired by The Glory, however, some time periods have changed as well as situations where the protagonist will be part of changing some original scenes.

I appreciate you reading and being part of this new story, as always I hope to please your readers' hearts.

I'll be back soon.

No one would dare to approach the daughter of the most sought-after heir in all New york, in fact no one would even think of marrying a girl as independent and grown up as you.

Your single status was a myth in the chats of the women of your class, how could such a pretty girl, with so much class, be single, hadn't she found someone at her level? Dozens of boys had asked you out because their parents had forced them to do it, that was what the line was, an heir with an heiress, right? But you decided to shoo each one of them away like flies on fresh flowers, too spoiled, arrogant, lazy, they weren't your type.

That night, the night of the charity gala where all the millionaires seemed to attend only to boast about how much their company had given to charitable causes seemed like just another boring night, with nothing to do but stand next to your parents smiling holding a glass of the most expensive (and disgusting) wine that you barely sipped.

Sir, nice to meet you again - a man with a foreign accent and Asian features approached and shook your father's hand before bowing slightly to your mother and you.

The pleasure is mine Mr. Jeon, It would be nice to meet at the club for breakfast one day. How long will you be in town this time? - your father smiled kindly. Despite his status and large bank account, you could tell and presume that he was a generous man with a good heart, and it always made you feel good to hear that you were just like him.

Fortunately this time we will stay a little longer, we are planning to live in America, I have some business in mind and I have started to build a club in this part of the country, you know, bring a little bit of Korea to America so they can get to know a little bit about us - both men continued chatting, laughing perhaps pretending that one was interested in the other's talk

You just sighed and looked around, your high heels were starting to hurt in your heels, your hand was perhaps already numb from holding the same glass all night

Jae Joon how nice that you came - Mr. Jeon smiled patting his son's back making a gesture of displeasure when he noticed the aroma of cigarettes on his clothes - I want you to meet Mr. Y / L/N he is a great friend and excellent partner in bussiness

A pleasure sir - the man offered his hand shaking it firmly with a smile that made his cheeks become plump giving a tender touch to his face

Jae Joon I have heard a lot about you, it is a pleasure to finally meet you -Your father smiled looking at your mother and then lightly took your arm making you turn your face in a surprised way looking forward- this is Y/N my daughter

Nice to meet you miss - Jae Joon smiled at you slightly tilting his head making you respond with just a shy smile

''Another prospect for the inheritance again'' you thought feeling annoyed and bored of the same dynamic every time your father met the son of a bussines partner

It wasn't very difficult to think about it, you could take care of the business, for some reason you had finished college at the best school in Europe, you had experience and many times you were able to support your father in difficult decisions, what was the problem after all, you didn't need a man to be successful.

When you finally got out of the crowd and the air hit your face you breathed a sigh of relief, it didn't matter that it was cold outside, it was almost the end of November but it was still better than being suffocated between expensive perfumes and the aroma of hundreds of exotic dishes that you hated.

You found the first stone bench on the balcony decorated with plants to sit and rest, the pain in your ankles was a burning sensation that you felt constantly but you were forced to endure to look "elegant"

Are you bored too? - a deep and velvety voice made you come out of your trance while you slowly massaged your ankle

Excuse me? - you looked at him confused

People here are boring just talking about money and business - he sighed bringing a cigarette to her mouth lighting it quickly - you don't mind me smoking, right?

No, I was leaving anyway - you smiled at him kindly standing up to enter the large hall again

You know - his voice made you turn around looking at him not at all curious, just not seeming rude and leaving him talking to himself - I don't know many people around here, I'm new in town and it would be nice, I don't know, to go out someday to get to know each other, after all I'll be around here for a long time

I don't usually work as a tour guide Mr. Jeon, excuse me - you smiled ironically turning around annoyed at getting the same thing again every time someone met you, a boring date proposal

Your answer had frozen him in place, he had never gotten a rejection from any girl, in fact the women in his country fought to get even a little attention from him, this caused him a feeling of rejection that he had never felt, in fact, in these cases his anger would have shot up breaking a couple of plants and damaging the property but as much as he tried to get upset he couldn't find where he had kept that feeling, he simply felt alone and rejected.

With the days you became more and more convinced that you would probably never find an honest man, in your class they didn't exist, they only looked for contacts and last names, it was clear that was why most of them looked for you and to be honest it wasn't something you were looking for, you enjoyed your single life, going out with your friends and doing everything as you wanted without giving explanations to anyone, although sometimes, you couldn't help but feel jealous and lonely seeing how most of them had someone to share with.

Nobody is at your level or maybe you just aren't lucky enough? - Ashley laughed, drinking from her glass with her left hand, showing off her (third) engagement ring

I can have any man I want, but that doesn't mean I'll go to bed with everyone, it's not my style - you smiled at her, drinking, making your other friends laugh

Oh yeah? And who have you wanted? Because we've never met anyone, right? - she smiled mockingly, making your friends erase their smiles, settling down a bit

Danielle was a little smarter, she changed the topic of the conversation to avoid awkwardness among the group, but in your head you couldn't stop thinking about your parents' words.

''I'm getting old, I'd like to see you have a happy life like mine, I'd like to have grandchildren, that's all''

''SaeHyeon has talked to me a lot about his son, he told me that he asked you out and you didn't accept, he seems very interested in you, why don't you give him a chance?''

Maybe… after all, they were right.

So, a couple of weeks later you decided to change your lifestyle and go for what everyone said was "wonderful." Your father was surprised to see you ready in your sportswear to accompany him to the Jeon golf course. He knew you perfectly so he didn't mention anything and just gave you a slight smile so as not to make you uncomfortable with your decision where you clearly weren't interested in talking about business.

The trip was short and when you arrived you were surprised by the architecture so elegant and different from that of your country, very minimalist and clean, the rooms were large, with furniture that combined perfectly and large windows, you could hear your father talking to a partner in the distance but your attention was totally given to the beauty of the place.

After a while and after having breakfast in the large room full of tables and delicious food you were able to go out to see the gardens, the golf carts passed by and every step you took showed you natural places where people showed their skills on the game.

Y/N?…what a surprise to see you here - Jae Joon smiled approaching while a couple of men watched him walk away with worried faces - go do your jobs, I'll see you later - he looked at them pushing them away with his hand making both of them leave almost running - I didn't know you were a member of the club

I'm not, my father came to talk to some members and I decided to accompany him - you smiled a little holding your sports bag with both hands

Don't worry, you can come here whenever you want, I'll tell them to let you in without bothering you with memberships or that paperwork - his smile didn't fade making you find him cute - would you like to come see the place with me?

Sure - you smiled at him again walking beside him with slow steps looking around as he talked about how many golf gardens they had, how many tennis courts and other boring ''rich'' people sports

What do you think? - His gaze was curious, as if looking for proof of you in the newly opened place

It's very nice, I've never seen anything so elegant and beautiful - you smiled looking at the small flower garden that adorned one side of an artificial lake

Do you like flowers? - he ask you curious

Yes, they're pretty, gardenias are my favorites - you looked at him nodding, returning your gaze to the lake where some people were practicing with their canoes

I'll ask them to plant gardenias all around the lake, how about a couple of benches too, so whenever you want to come and smell them you can sit comfortably on them - he smile moving his hands in front of both like designing the new additions to the place

What?…no it's not necessary…

Of course it is, if you're going to come here, I want you to feel at home - his face was so kind and warm that it made you feel a kind of butterflies and weirdness inside you

It wasn't possible that in just a couple of minutes you felt something for someone that you barely knew their name, it wasn't normal for you.

Sir, excuse the interruption, we need your help - a man dressed in a suit with a nervous face looked at him while rubbing his hands nervously on his pants

It seemed that the interruption had made Jae Joon change his face and personality in just a second, his jaw tensed and he rolled his eyes looking at him annoyed

I told you that I hate being interrupted, do I have to solve everything myself? - her hands clenched tightly causing the man to look down in fear

It's okay, you can go don't worry - you smiled at him feeling anxious from the tension of the moment adjusting your sports backpack on your shoulder

I'm sorry I have to go, some people are too stupid to do their own work - the veins in his eyes turned red as if the fury couldn't be contained within his body, he didn't even give you time to respond when both men quickened their pace towards a destination unknown to you.

After all you were relieved, the encounter ended before it became awkward, but you couldn't help but notice that his personality changed with the rest of the people.

That night while you were drying your hair your phone rang on your vanity full of perfumes, your biggest obsession.

''I'm sorry about this morning, would you like to go to dinner? JJ''

His simple message made you smile making you feel strange, did you have feelings for Jae Joon? The best thing would be to answer him, or maybe not? If you did it quickly he would realize that you were very interested, but if you waited a little he would feel that you were not interested at all.

''Of course xx''

The first date was exciting for both of you, you talked for hours about your lives and what you would like for the future, you could feel as if your destiny was destined, fortunately neither of you touched on business topics, it was the first time you went out with a man who didn't brag about how hard his father had worked for him just to spend the money and that made you feel comfortable.

Jae Joon couldn't believe how comfortable he felt with you and how much he enjoyed sharing time by your side, in fact he felt like another person when you were near him, his outbursts of anger and that anger that he always felt inside of him didn't exist, you were the calm that he needed to be happy despite sometimes remembering why he came to America and it made him feel afraid.

Within a few weeks they had already lost count of how many times they had gone out, in fact they never counted the times they saw each other because despite his work he always found a moment to visit you or you took advantage of your free afternoons to go to the club and eat with him even if it was only a couple of hours that they could be together.

It was around April when both of them attended the art gallery of Sara, Jae Joon's friend who thanks to a charitable cause was able to exhibit in America.

You walked around the place taking his arm while you contemplated the colors and shapes of the paintings, they were so different from what you were used to seeing, sometimes, reacting excitedly by the combinations you saw.

Isn't it pretty? I had never imagined seeing flowers colored like that - you smiled excitedly while your arms surrounded his

Yes… it's pretty - Jae Joon sighed looking away

It would look good in a living room with a carpet of that color, maybe combined with several colors, I don't know… what do you think? - you smiled again looking at him only getting him to nod uncomfortably taking the phone from his pocket

Honey give me a minute, it's something urgent - he looked at you embarrassed leaving quickly while leaving you standing in the middle of the exhibition

This time it was you who sighed, maybe you were going a little fast and you made him uncomfortable, maybe he wasn't looking for anything formal and your comments were going too far

Your boyfriend left you alone? - Sara laughed sarcastically approaching

He.. he's not my boyfriend - you smiled shyly taking your bag with both hands nervously

I know, don't worry, it's not your fault or did you make him uncomfortable princess, Jae Joon is colorblind he doesn't distinguish colors - she smiled mockingly leaning on a table while drinking from her glass - didn't he tell you?

He.. he's colorblind? - your heart felt like it had been squeezed and even though you had never done it with the intention of making him uncomfortable, you couldn't help but remember all the times you had mentioned something about colors - I didn't… I didn't know, sorry

I know, he never mentions it, it makes him feel stupid - she sighed playing with her empty glass - when we were in high school, the boys used to make fun of his condition, the poor guy only defended himself when he beat them in the face

I… god I feel so bad.. I… I'm going to see him - you looked at her shyly, fixing your hair nervously

Go honey, rescue your prince charming… or something like that - she laughed drinking the few drops left in the glass, while you hurried your step leaving feeling the fresh air hit your face

A couple of minutes walking through the parking lot was enough when you could find him standing next to a small planter, his head pointing to the sky while he placed drops of a small flower in his eyes boat, the sound of your heels on the pavement made him turn quickly wiping the liquid that ran down his cheeks, possibly what he had placed as lubricant.

Doll I'm sorry… give me a moment - he cleared his throat turning his back to you embarrassed

Jae Joon.. it's okay - you shyly took his arm delicately making him look at you embarrassed - Sara… she already told me… I'm sorry for not paying attention

Sara… - he sighed rolling his eyes tensing his jaw again - that damn…

You don't have to be upset, it's nothing to be ashamed of - you smiled at him adjusting the lock of his hair that the breeze had disarranged covering one of his eyes - your condition doesn't bother me if that's the reason you hadn't told me yet..

His eyes looked at you quickly, his heart skipped a beat feeling something different inside him again.

Jae Joon was the man of your dreams, he was tender and attentive to excess, he remembered every single thing about you as if he had a notebook especially for you in his head, he remembered important dates even the ones you sometimes forgot

During April with the excuse of seeing the city from the top of the Empire State he took you to the top to see the sunset, in reality, he only had eyes for you completely ignoring the sunset and the buildings that adorned the landscape.

Do you know what we came for? - he smiled at you while hugging you from behind resting his chin on your shoulder

We didn't go to see the city right? - you smiled at him, suspecting his intentions

No, I want the whole city to know from here that my girlfriend is the smartest and most beautiful woman on the planet and she's only for me - his face was hidden between the strands of your hair that he was obsessed with the aroma

I'm not your girlfriend Jae Joon… - you laughed trying to look at him making him laugh

Then I'll ask you here so everyone knows you're mine - he laughed kissing your cheek - do you want to be my girlfriend?

Mm.. I should think about it, what do you offer me Mr. Jeon? - you laughed turning a little until you could hug his neck with your arms making him laugh again surrounding your waist

I promise that from today you will live the glory every day we spend together, I can even swear that you are the future Mrs. Jeon and nobody can change that

Then let's live the glory Mr. Jeon..

Part 2

[slutforwoo]

rumors

| Choi San -one shot |

|☆ pairing: heiress!reader x heir san!

|☆ summary: rumor has it, the heir of Choi International has the hots for the heiress of the Kim Family Empire. seems it’s getting around to everyone, he said, she said situation. well. the up coming banquet might shed the light on these so called “rumors”

|☆ genre: 2nd chance?, smut, fluff

|☆ warnings: lower case intended, unprotected sex (use protection), oral (both f and m receiving), cum swallowing, san kisses read after he eats her out, semi rough sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, san is down bad, degrading, overstimulation. uh let me know if I missed anything! (probably did also not proofread it's 3 am and I was on a writing roll)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

he said, she said, it’s all you heard these days. lord knows your sick of it. why did everyone have to poke their noses into your business? you turn 24 still single with no boyfriend or husband, the community talks. and they talk quite loudly. he said she said. some believe your family set an arranged marriage, some believe you had a secret affair with god knows who. while others noticed the subtle looks and touches with none other the it boy himself. Choi. San.

you met when you were still teenagers, your parents deciding to go vacationing in Italy at the same time as his. you deemed it a silly summer fling when you were 18. yet you found yourself reminiscing about the midnight walks along the dimly light streets, exchanging sweet nothings to each other. the night at the beach where you laid together watching the stars above. sneaking around the hallways of the vacation house your family owned. you remembered every bit of it.

that summer engraved into your mind, but that’s all it was. a summer that no one knew about. it was a precious secret you shared. one only between you and him. but you never saw him again after your family left, until 3 years ago he moved to new york with his family. next thing you knew, it was stolen glances and touches at banquets and charity events. small talk every now and then when your friend groups mingle. but deep down you both knew you wanted to explore what you couldn’t before.

bringing you to now, sitting in your makeup chair as the stylist do your hair and makeup for tonight’s banquet. the jung corporation was throwing a masquerade ball charity event. and of course your parents demanded your attendance.

“miss y/n?” a voice called from the door way, one of the housekeepers walking in with a package.

“this was delivered for you, excuse me” she handed the package to you before excusing herself.

you looked at the black velvet box, tied with a red bow and a note. carefully uniting the bow you grab the note,

‘can’t wait to see you tonight beautiful. rumor has it we’re having a secret relationship you know. I hope you like the mask -C.S’

you feel the smile tug at your lips, placing the note to the side you open the box. inside lying a beautiful lace mask, adorned with small diamonds and pearls. you hold it in awe, he remembered your favorites, he knew you were likely to wear a black gown, if not black then emerald green. he knew regardless that it would match.

the stylist and makeup artist eye each other before eyeing you. you felt the way they stared, “if either of you say anything about this. I will make sure you never work again do you understand me” you spoke in a low tone. eyeing both women as they nod their heads quickly.

“Leah!” you call out, to your personal bodyguard who you had trusted your life with.

she walked over to you stoping in the door way. “yes miss?”

you place the note inside the box before you close it, “can you place this on my bed please, don’t let anyone touch it”you smiled handing her the box as she swiftly nods and walks away.

soon, you're heading to your room to change and do some final touches before leaving. walking in and locking the door before you changed into the beautiful gown your mother picked. you couldn’t be bothered with buying a gown yourself, so your mother decided to take it into her hands, making you grateful you didn’t have to.

after getting zipped up and slipping on your heels. you admire yourself in the mirror, happy with how you looked before adding the final touches, the silk gloves, pearl and diamond necklace with its matching bracelet. elegant and simple. opening the velvet box once more to pull out the beautiful mask.

“miss y/n? it is time to go your parents are waiting for you” Leah spoke as you spray your favorite perfume before following her to the entrance on the bottom floor.

“oh honey you look amazing”your mother gasped as she sees how beautiful her only daughter looks.

“thank you mother, where’s hongjoong?” you say as you scan for your older brother who was no where to be found at the moment.

that was until you hear foot steps coming down the stairs, taking a quick look to see your brother adorned in his custom balmain suit.

“alright, we all look good, y/n you look beautiful sweetheart. and hongjoong you really did inherit my good looks” your father laughed as he opened the door for everyone to leave, getting into the car and having the driver take them to the jung estate.

the ride was filled with the chatter of your family catching up on everyone’s deals. contrary to what people would expect your parents were very relax for the fact they have an empire to pass down. when hongjoong expressed his desire to work in the music industry they were weary about it, but when they learned you wanted to inherit the empire. they decided since you wanted it, you’d get it. thus them being very supportive of your brothers music career. having become a big deal in producing as well as making his own music.

“now y/nnie remember, the other mothers will try to set you up with their sons. do not feel pressured to say yes. you know how your father and I don’t care if you get married okay?” your mother spoke as you guys arrived at the estate. reassuring you it was okay to say no and they would deal with any complaints thrown their way.

“thank you mother, I hope we all enjoy our time here tonight” you smiled as you gave her a quick hug before exiting the vehicle. sliding down your mask as you walk the red carpet to get inside, paparazzi cameras flashing left and right. of course they’d be here, why fucking wouldn’t they. making a mental note to be extra careful in case of anything later in the night.

entering the estate was like entering another world, the living space filled with socialites and ceos. the lights dim, allowing the candles placed around to give it a darker feel. my god you loved it, the violins playing in the background, the quite chatter and whispers.

you allow yourself to walk around sipping on a glass of champagne, while simply admiring the decorations and mood of this event. casually tuning Into the whispers that were happening around you, eying you down.

“I heard she’s engaged to jung wooyoung”

“well I heard she’s engaged to choi jongho, isn’t she lucky”

“i’ve heard there’s something secret going on with her and choi san”

“well ive heard she’s a whore and that’s why she hasn’t settled down yet”

ah and there it was. those damn rumors. irritation growing in ur veins as you down the champagne and decide to wonder away from the main event. navigating the corridors and eventually finding an empty library on the other end of the estate.

you take in the the beautiful old library, the rustic wood that ran along the shelves. the fire place that was lit dimly, the small couches in the center. the different paintings that hung in the empty spaces here and there.

being so sucked into your own world you didn’t even hear when the door opened.

“it’s beautiful right?” a voice spoke, causing you to jump as you turn around. your eyes locking onto those cat like eyes. eyes that you would recognize anywhere. choi san.

“just absolutely stunning. I hope to build one like it at my own estate”you smiled “thank you for the mask san” his name rolled off your tongue, and he loved the way it sounded.

“anytime princess”he smiled, allowing himself to fully walk into the library closing the door shut behind him. “you know princess, there’s been a lot of rumors about us lately” he said, stoping directly in front of you.

“tell me something I don’t know san”you sigh, looking up at the man who was a bit too close for your liking considering the fact you felt hot with him this close to you. “I heard you cant get me out of your head choi. is it true?” you spoke in questionable tone as you held eye contact with him.

“I heard that you write about me in that journal you carry around y/n”he states stepping closer to you, making you take a step back into the bookshelf.

“maybe I do” you admit, it was true. you continuously wrote about that summer, wishing for it to become a reality once more. to be his once again, this time longer than a fling.

“then maybe it’s true I can’t get you out of my head” he whispered, his hand reaching up to your cheek. slowly caressing it.

his hands felt like fire against your skin in the best way possible. you found yourself leaning into his touch. eyes looking up at him with the same adoration you did 5 years ago. san can swear he felt his knees almost give out on him. god he couldn’t help but admire the beautiful woman you became.

oh how badly he wanted to admit he kept tabs on you, he owned every magazine you were on the cover of, any interview he’s seen it, any product promotion he’s bought. he never forgot about you.

“san, we can’t do this and you know it”you whispered as he snaked his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him. lips just inches apart.

“we’re both single y/n. neither of us have anything to lose”he spoke and he was right. if anything both of your parents would be ecstatic. but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to do this all in secret. the touches, glances, occasional meet ups.

“but it’s so much more fun this way” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck to look up at him. “don’t tell me you don’t think it’s fun”you pout.

he chuckles and goes to remove your mask, wanting to see all of you. god you genuinely were so gorgeous and he didn’t understand how a person could be so captivating. “it’s fun but, i’m sick of people asking you to marry their sons”he whispered before pulling you into a deep and hungry kiss.

you returned the hungry and need into the kiss. his lips were just as soft as you remembered. he pushes you more into the bookcase, causing a moan to escape your lips when he bit your lip and kissed his way down your neck.

“s-san we can get caught”you pant as he continues to kiss down your collarbone.

“locked the door and woo doesn’t care”he mumbles against your skin. leaving a couple more kisses before he returned to eye level. “tell me you want this or i’ll stop”he said lips hovering over your own once more. and there was nothing you wanted more than him in this moment.

“I want it san. take me” the whisper leaves your lips as he crashes his into yours once more, hands finding the back of your dress. he undoes the bow holding the corset together as your hands slip off his jacket and get to unbuttoning his shirt.

your dress falls to the ground, gathering at your feet before sam guides you out, sitting you on the couch as he took off his shirt and slacks, leaving him in his boxers.

but god did the sight of you sprawled out on the couch look divine. the dark red lingerie clung to your figure accentuating every curve. eyes that were eyeing him down like if he was prey. it’s the sight he prayed for. he was hoping he’d see tonight.

“come on, remind me who I really belong to”you snark, eyeing him up and down with a smug grin on ur face as you tilt your head.

in that he wasted no more time, pulling your panties to the side to dive his tongue into you. causing a broken moan to leave your lips. it had been so long since you and him did this. almost 10 months ago. and there was no way you were letting anyone other than san touch you this way. he sucked and nibbled on your clit, making you moan out his name.

“fuck san more. please” you moaned as he explored every inch of you, going as deep as his tongue would let him. leading you to be a squirming mess. it just felt so good. you knew your body would react this way, it always did. he knew you like the back of his hand. he knows how to make you feel the utmost pleasure anytime you sleep with him.

san finding himself devouring you as if he’d never see you again. every drop of your slick on his tongue. god he would never. ever get enough of eating you out. knowing that he makes a mess of you with this alone.

“g-gonna come”you whine out, legs locking around his head. his arms finding your thighs to hold you in place as you climax on his tongue. collecting some of your cum in his mouth, he came back up to kiss you. making you taste how sweet you were.

“let me return the favor”you pulled away smiling as you stood up and pushed him on the couch that was behind him. dropping to your knees, taking the hair tie that you kept in your purse and tying up your hair.

not allowing him to argue as you pull down his boxers and take his dick into your hands. pumping it a couple times before taking him into ur mouth. going nice and slower for a bit before you picked up the pace.

hollowing out your cheeks as you let your tongue go flat as you suck him off.

“oh fuck y/n”he groaned as he took your ponytail into his hand. guiding you up and down slightly. you wanted it hear more. you needed to. you loved the sound of his groans and whines.

so you did the first thing that came to mind. you took him all the way in. your nose touching his pelvic bone, slightly gagging as san takes this opportunity to thrust into your throat. causing broken whines to escape his lips. “ ‘m gonna cum baby” he whined as he tried to take you off his dick to cum on you. but you wouldn’t let him.

you wanted every last drop of him in your mouth. so you kept going until his hips sputtered and he stilled. coating your throat and mouth white as he pulled out to see your makeup runny from gagging and tearing up. you smiled at him as you swallowed what was left in your mouth, getting up from the floor you straddle him.

“i’m yours sannie” you whispered in his ear as you lined him up with your entrance. slowly sinking down on him. loud moans escaping your mouth as you stretch to fit him inside you. his hand makes its way to your mouth.

“now you can’t be too loud either. quite down or ill fuck your face down into this sofa. understood?” he spoke before you completely sink down on him. nodding your head yes to being as quite as possible.

moving your hips up and down, you enjoy the slight pain than comes with adjusting to his length. arms finding their way to his chest for support as you bounced up and down on him.

“your such a good girl y/n. my good girl you know that” he whispered as he grabbed onto your hips, hugging you close to him before thrusting up into you.

moans pour out one after three other as san picks up his pace. “a-all y-yours sannie”you whined out as his dick dragged against your walls making you feel like you were on cloud nine. he was hitting spots you didn’t even know where there.

“all. fucking. mine” he moaned out as he moved you into all fours on the couch, pushing your head into the couch as he fucked you from behind.

“I doubt the mothers would want you with their sons if they saw how much of a slut you are for me”he panted as he picked up the peace. he had to remind you who your body adored. but you knew it wasn’t just your body who adored him. your heart did too.

“s-san please fuck too much” you cry out. tears streaming down your cheek as you mumble out incoherent words. “ gonna cum”

“come for me baby. come on show me who you belong to” he said, giving hard and fast thrust. pushing you over the edge as your body shook and your walls tightened around him.

san knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, he tried to pull out but you stopped him.

“i’m on the pill. in me. please”you beg, mind and body overwhelmed from the pleasure.

you didn’t have to tell san twice, with a few more thrust he stills and spills inside of you. his body collapsing on your to lay on your chest.

he listened to your rapid heartbeat slow down. “you did so well for me princess”he said, looking up at you as he held you close to him. “and I meant it. be mine in the eye of the public. please y/n”he begged, tracing your collarbone.

“i’ve always been yours san”you whisper out loud enough for him to hear. looking down at his flushed face and messy hair.

“well then shall we prove the rumors right?” he suggested as he helped you get up and clean urself before he redresses himself.

helping your take your hair and touch up with the makeup you keep in ur purse. removing the most messy parts and touching up.

as he’s zipping your your gown up, he places a kiss on your shoulder before whispering into your ear “all mine”.

you both take a couple of last looks to make sure you look completely presentable before exiting the library and making your way back to the event. couples danced on the floor to the slow classical tune that played.

san grabbed your hand as he led you to the center of the dance floor, pulling you close to him.

you smile to urself as you hear the audible gasp around the room. whispers that weren’t quite whispers as the two of you danced in each others arms.

“there’s is no way”

“he picks her out of all the girls?!”

“she’s so lucky”

“no he’s lucky do you guys not know how powerful she already is”

“I knew those damn rumors were right”

the whispers continued and continued. but you both could care less. the way your body filled with our happiness because he was holding you close in front of all the women and men that want him. yet he wants you.

“let’s get out of here?” he whispers

“absolutely”you smile

he takes your hand and the two of you run out of the estate, you stumble taking your heels off to run faster. having no idea where he is leading you.

but there you were. running hand in hand with the man you wanted to have so badly. and you had him once again this time you were positive on never letting him go again.

finally after a bit of running you made it to the edge of a beautiful lake lit with lanterns and fairy lights. the both of you sat underneath the stars, your head in his lap looking at his beautiful smile he had.

“i didn’t think id ever be grateful for those rumors you know”

“oh princess. you were going to be mine either way. they just helped speed up the process without me knowing” he laughed as he held your face.

and there it was. that same feeling he gave you 5 years ago on the beach in italy. it made you smile like an idiot. an idiot who was finally able to relive what she wanted most. and one who also just got something she’s wanted for a while. maybe it was your fault it took so long. but neither of you could deny how fun it was to feed the rumors.

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

[neoplatinum]

til' death do us part - part 1 | minatozaki sana

summary: sana minatozaki walks right into your life with a marriage license.

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex

wc: 5.0k

(series masterlist)

"the minatozaki's are waiting." you stare at the contract in front of you, frustrated at the idea of the family visiting. they sent the contract to you two weeks ago, and you knew that they were expecting a response, as in a signature. but here lays the contract on your coffee table, left to collect dust.

"let them in." you sit up from the couch, adjusting your shirt. you watch the maid let them in, timed steps in the long marble hallway. you hear their presence before you see them. then you see the matriarch of the minatozaki family step into the room. her head held high and proper, like a leader.

she reminds you of your own mother: the sharp tongue, quick judgements, and inability to let go of grudges.

then walks in sana minatozaki, the only heiress of the minatozaki group. she is not a stranger at all, but you havent decided if she is a friend or foe. when you were both younger, annual balls were centered around her. she always took those events in stride, while you enjoyed sticking by your mother's side.

you often remember watching sana dancing with anyone who would ask her; even from afar, you knew she was someone that everyone awed at. they treated her attention like a prize worth attaining.

"hello mrs. minatozaki and ms. minatozaki, please have a seat." you direct them to sit on the opposing couch. "how may i help you?"

they both get situated while you sit by yourself, feeling the weight of the minatozaki power firsthand. you watch your staff rushing to present them with tea, only for the two to dismiss them quickly.

"yes, we sent over a contract earlier last week, please sign it." the matriach points at the contract on your table.

"yes well, it is a marriage contract, a legally binding one. i need time to think it through."

"what is there to think through? you get to marry into the minatozaki group, and solidify your business with the backings of our family, i see no reason that it's empty now."

you frown at that, those were the exact words your own father told you over the phone, you called him immediately after receiving the contract, he told you the same exact thing, ending the call immediately after.

you dont disagree with the benefits, you would just rather marry someone else. someone that you could be in love with, not sana minatozaki.

"mrs. minatozaki, as much as i understand the power and backing of your family. i am rather old-fashioned. i only believe in marriage out of love." you nod solemnly to the older woman.

she lets out a trained laugh and holds her daughter's hands like they're her prize and tool. "love? you don't think that you could love my daughter?"

"mrs. minatozaki, i didn't mean it in that way-"

"so, what way did you mean it? my daughter sana," you say, watching as her daughter stands up from the couch, tall and proud, just like her mother, and smiling at you in that coy smile. "she has a line of suitors far longer than you could imagine; you should reconsider."

"mrs. minatozaki' please if i may-"

she holds her palm up, completely stopping you from speaking. "enough. here's what we're going to do: a three-month commitment. truly court my daughter for three months, and if you can honestly tell me you aren't in love with her, then i won't bother you with this matter for any longer."

"mrs. minatozaki, i think this is a completely archaic idea!" you exclaim, shocked to hear her say these plans. how quick she is to decide for her daughter's life.

"watch your tone. do not forget that your mother and I are well acquainted." she points her finger at you, and in a split second, she's back to that trained smile that is always so unnerving and threatening.

"i'm very sorry mrs. mintatozaki, please forgive my rudeness." you bow deeply at the woman. you return to your trained demeanor, letting mrs. minatozaki run your life for the next three months. who knows what she'll say to your mother if you decline?

both women get up promptly at the matriarch's signal, and you rush to walk them out of the manor. their resounding footsteps echo through the halls. the matriarch continues speaking of the three months of "dating," and you nod at every word in appeasement.

you assist them into their car, and soon they speed away from your manor. leaving you frustrated in your own driveway. by the time the sun has set, you finally return to your room.

--

the thought doesn't bother you anymore, while you were nervous at the idea of the minatozaki's pressing you on this marriage, you had gotten way too swamped with work.

in a week's time since the visit, you were giving a big presentation to shareholders and clientele. countless nights spent languidly going through the motions of collecting data for infographics and reports to extrapolate data. all part of your stressful day job.

a job that you take pride in, to take over the family business. dedicating years of your life to build the rapport needed for your father to put the company in your name.

you begin to wrap up on your final slide, indicating the prosperous quarter that your company has been seeing. beautiful graphics that display profit margins through the roofs. in every chair of that conference room sat a wide smile at your future projections.

"we expect to see a projection of 33% from our previous annual profits, along with more assets, and with the likes of a possible acquisition, this company will continue to flourish. thank you all for today." you conclude your presentation and smile to the many shareholders. they all stand and applaud you; you take a deep bow and shake hands.

the shareholders hound you, all gathered around in suits that costed more than the average house. they only bowed to the sound of money dropping into their pockets. so they push you, push your boundaries of how much you'll let them take.

mr. seki has always been the most persistent, asking for more money than he knew how to spend. so he stands before you, eyes twinkling and his grubby hands rubbing together like he found a gold mine.

you listen to him speak of the golden days with your father, business had little to regulations, making money was easier than breathing, but now he breaths down your neck for bonuses. the words travel in one ear and out the other, he forgets that you were a young child listening in to his discussions with your father.

before you know it, you hear that sharp clicking sound, the sound of sharp hard rubber hitting the tiled floor, you hear heels. short confident steps of a woman, and then you see it through the frosted glass, a womanly figure.

she's walking right into the conference room. then you notice the details: long brunette hair in waves, branded sunglasses atop her nose, a light pink suit adorned with blinding diamonds. behind her are bodyguards that tower over everyone. everyone's conversation stops at the sight of her, she stops right in front of you.

eyes strong and daring, she slips off her glasses and you recognize her, the woman of all your friend's dreams: sana minatozaki. more confident than ever, not being guided by her mother, she smiles that smile that you know your friends swoon over. delicate fingers slip off her glasses as she hands them to her assistant. eyes still focused on yours.

then she does it, grabs ahold of your tie, and slams her lips against yours. and you can hear it faintly, the sound of the shareholders all gasping, drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. the searing kiss lasts so long, like a time loop. when she pulls back, you gasp for air, choking and doubling over coughing like you inhaled chili powder. all your presentation material spilling on the ground.

"sorry to cut the festivities short, gentlemen." she bows lightly, an amused smile underlying her sarcasm. "my fiancé and i have things to attend to, i'm sure you know how demanding your wife can be". she giggles at that, letting them all nod, and disperse.

"fiancé?" you cough out, still catching your breath. sana grabs ahold of your hand and drags you out the conference room, and out to the elevators. you watch her two bodyguards at your feet, ready to intervene with broad and thick builds.

they remind you much of your father's bodyguards. but you never wanted them because it just felt so unnatural to be followed by men who protected you.

sana stands before the elevator, and without missing a beat walks in, at the sound of the door opening. you get pulled by the two bodygaurds into the box. now you stand next to a smirking sana and two men who could break your spine ten times over.

you exit into the lobby, all the staff rising to their feet at the sight of you and miss minatozaki. greeting you all, as you rush to follow after sana. you have a sinking feeling if you don't that those two men behind you are going to toss you right into the ocean. right outside of the lobby, is the sight of the signature black marked sedan. a true sign of a minatozaki. like the fortress of a family, this car is far than capable of withstanding a nuke, how true this statement is? you never want to know.

sana is quick to sit herself inside, being guided by her chaffeur. you nod to him before sitting inside, seperated by the middle seat. the door closes and suddenly you feel claustrophobic.

the last time you spoke to sana was years ago, back in law school, you never did like her clique but they were everywhere. so you have interacted with her through case studies and presentations, steering clear of the intimidating minatozaki group. so much for avoiding them, now you're stuck in a car with the exact person you were avoiding all your life.

"mother is furious." she comments, grabbing her heels off her feet, tucking them into a compartment. you stare at her for a while, confused with what she means. "well?"

"miss minatozaki, i thin-"

"sana. just sana please." she corrects you.

"miss sana, please, you cannot barge into my shareholder meetings and attack me like that. that was unacceptable on all levels." you continue. loosening the tie that felt like it was choking you when she grabbed it. you slip it off your neck and into your pocket.

"i thought mother made it clear her expectations. you sign that marriage license, and we're good." she continues to correct you, disregarding your frustrations.

"sana. i apologize but i have been swamped with work, i cannot even begin to think about marriage." you complain.

"work? you marry into the minatozaki group and you'll never lift a finger. those infographics you put together were cute, but the minatozaki's never put themselves through work they can pass off to others. marry in, and we'll find a suitable ceo the second you say so." she is everything you stand against, a figurehead as the ceo is the last thing you want for your budding company.

"i think you are mistaken, miss sana. this company is me, i am this company, that will not change if i marry into the minatozaki group." you don't waver for a second, conviction running through your blood.

she smiles at that, "you are one of those. the ones that are married to their work before anything else." she takes a second to contemplate this thought, what would you bring to the minatozaki group? profit, drama, not a headache that's for sure.

"i'm going to let you in on a secret," she leans her head towards you. "like how you are married to your work, i am married to wealth. doesn't matter if you have a million mistresses, or a thousand bastard babys. as long as you don't smear the minatozaki name, you will fit right in."

"i do not think so miss sana. the minatozaki's are adamant about blood purity, they don't let bastards live." you explain. she smirks at that, you've clearly done your research about the minatozaki clan. "miss sana, please, me marrying into your family would not beneficial to you. i am too concerned with my own self to be a pawn for your clan." you finish, hoping they will let this issue to rest.

"you seem to know a lot about our family for someone who isn't interested marrying in." her eyebrow shoots up and with the snap of a finger, the bodyguard hands her a manila folder through the slit of the window.

"once again, we urge you to sign this. i hope we become lifelong partners, fiancé." she winks and steps out of the car. speaking to the chauffeur, and soon you're being driven by the minatozaki car, another car ready for sana in an instant.

now you're left with a manila folder, weighing heavier than anything else in the world. when you are sit in your armchair with the manila folder, nursing a nice drink to unwind, you finally untie the manila folder. opening the contents, you find the same contract on your coffee table. signed with sana's signature in the bottom, and another paper.

in a written letter from your own father, you nearly crumple the paper in your own hand. the clauses of placing your company in the hands of your father, all shareholder signatures at the bottom. indicating the removal of power. in another line it reads in big bold letters, date sana for three months or your company will be absorbed by your father.

you call up your father.

"father, this is ridiculous, you cannot do this to my company. why are you meddling now?"

"you insolent child, given the opportunity to grow your business, you choose instead to be selfish? i present to you the opportunity of a lifetime: marriage into the minatozaki group. and i've been told you're pushing their patience." his deep voice rumbles into the phone. "my final words are these: you want your company so bad, prove that you are committed to the minatozakis, then i will transfer the power back." he firmly states.

"i don't even have the time, father. my schedule is busy with the new year and final changes with new clientele."

"i've already spoken to your assistant, all work for you the next three months have been transferred to my coo. he will take over for the time being, i trust him to run my own company, so don't you go spouting nonsense about his credibility." you bite your tongue at the sight. how dare your father meddle in your company? one that you built up with your own hands. the only piece of yourself that wasn't controlled by your father.

"do not forget who raised you. i can take everything away." his voice booms through the speakers. he ends the phone call there. and you throw that phone like a baseball, shattering the device into pieces.

--

so you do date sana for three months, finding it absolutely absurd in the beginning. often visiting her wherever she traveled. when she was busy, you would send out bouquets in your absence. you tried your best to date her, devoting time to getting to know her better. she's like you remembered when you were younger, loud rambunctious and had an eye for all things expensive. you spent trips all over the globe within those three months.

it's a strange feeling. letting yourself rest, you can't remember the last time you went on a vacation other than in law school. here you are, lying in a lounge chair on a private beach in santorini. drinking mai tais while you stare into the horizon. confused with your own life right now.

it should've been the merger. you get antsy just at the idea of your father's coo leading the merger, but what can you do. that company is not "yours" right now. while you are trying to enjoy the sight of the bright sun and clear waters, you watch out of the corner of your eye as sana flirts openly with a resort worker.

hand on his bicep, leaning in to show more cleavage, all the while keeping a sultry smile on her face. you're done letting your life be decided for you. you walk over.

"hi honey, how is it going?" you smile towards her, leaning in for a quick kiss. holding her neck in place, as you watch the man walk away. you let her go.

"jealous?" she smirks.

"no. i need answers." you sit down in front of her. "why me?"

"what do you mean why me?" she sips on her cosmopolitan, not provoked by the question.

"why marry me? my father is well known, but we are not a conglomerate group, why do you wish to marry me? i provide nothing to the minatozaki group, it doesn't make sense. there's the watanabe clan, the abe clan, the ito clan. i really don't understand why my family."

"it's not your father or his companies, it's you." she points at you. still sipping her drink. she doesn't skip a beat, no hesitation in her words.

"i hold no power on the world stage, you would be well off marrying any clan." you try reasoning with her, beyond perplexed on why she chose you.

"the watanabe clan are dirty: plagued with dirty lust, the abe clan are ruthless killers, the ito clan has been known to kill their woman. so tell me, how much better off i will be marrying them?" she continues. face hardened.

"i see...they are not as great as their name." you stare at her. less perplexed but definitely confused.

"we all grew up together, all the heirs, i know them better than they know themselves. and i do not like what i see. but you and i didn't speak to each other." she signals for another cosmopolitan, thanking the staff member and digging through her bag. pulling out photos of you two when you were children at the annual balls.

"you are worlds better than all of them combined. i could see it in the way you never vied for my attention. they all were intact dogs, hoping to hump something by the end of the night."

"sorry for the assumptions," you offer. the way she looks away from you, watching the ocean. and letting out a long and heavy sigh. she tucks the photos away. "so, marriage out of convenience? is that all this is?"

"yes." she nods.

you grab the contract from your bag, signing it in front of her. and then placing it in her hands, "to a happy marriage sana minatozaki, i hope you can handle my snoring." you laugh.

she grins at the contract, and tucks it into her bag. "then i hope you can handle my kicking. you groan jokingly and laugh loudly, her joining you.

--

minatozaki weddings were no joke. halls lined with marble pillars with gold accents. dishes made out of the finest and purest porecelin. waiters dressed in their finest, not a single hair out of place. global leaders and their children attending, even if they had no ties to the minatozaki.

the grandiose hall with beautiful mirrors dating centuries ago. recovered artifacts from the edo period, adorning the shelves. the giant minatozaki family crest on the back wall. with long tables lined with wedding gifts. you stand next to sana as the reception procession continues into the night. many notable figures congratulating the marriage. as well as the intricate gifts being handed off to you. each gift being placed and documented by the minatozaki security team.

the minatozakis look happy, wearing traditional kimonos and inviting all the guests to talk about their daughters marriage.

even though the place is filled with laughter and happiness, you can't help but feel like you just entered a loveless marriage. where you are destined to avoid sana, she smiles at everyone, showering in the attention, while you can't wait to get back to work.

--

you had explained to sana you wanted a quiet honeymoon, one that was peaceful and relaxing. so you both went puglia, to enjoy the rich Italian culture and the beautiful greens and blues of the water.

sana spent nearly ever second of the day buying herself clothes while enjoying pestering you. often times dragging you along to carry her bags, and be at her beck and call. she calls it "conditioning for a happy marriage." you had rolled your eyes when you heard it, but you wanted a happy marriage too so you complied.

now you stand in the middle of puglia, taking photos of sana, at her request. for the third time that day.

"how many photos do you need sana?"

"as many as i want. stop talking, more clicking!" you get back to taking photos and letting her enjoy the scenery. it's quite nice being with sana, she may be a bit high maintenance, but she doesn' t overstep when it comes to your boundaries. letting you enjoy your own alone time and venturing through the city alone.

sometimes you bring back flowers or a small gift to her, all of which she happily enjoys with a warm smile.

--

after the honeymoon, its back to the real world. in which your father happily returned the company back to you. the merger had been successful, but you're still catching up on paperwork that only you could sign. in the coming months, sana has moved in.

living together has become a routine. when she moved into your manor, she claimed it was a nice change from her home. you were confused because her house was far more amenities, but you let her move in.

so, every morning and night, you spend time with her, sleeping in the same bed, drinking the same coffee, and sitting at the same dining table. you don't share more than a few words with her, but her presence has become a nice addition to your life.

she's made herself comfortable, her makeup products all lining your sink, heels filling the floor of the closet. her closet so big that she ordered construction to build her own walk-in.

often times you see her out lounging in the sun room doing yoga or pilates. or when she's in a good mood, she'll join you in your study room to do work herself.

she goes out at night frequently, so you make it a habit to stay up until she gets home. you know she's protected and safe with her trained bodyguards and chauffeur.

it just brings you a sense of comfort to bring her inside in case she's unwell. some nights she gets home with love bites all over her body, other nights she comes home drunk falling into your arms. you never comment on it.

she comments on your life first.

"do you...have someone special in your life?" she asks with a glass of wine in hand. you look up from your table, eyeing her in the doorframe.

"no, i'm married to my job." you look back at the work laid out for you, pushing glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

"have you slept with a woman before?" you stop your work, putting the pen down.

"sana, are we asking about each other's sex lives now?"

"well i can be curious, cant i? you always look so proper." she walks in to sit by you.

"well, yes in the past i have." you comment, a little thrown off with the line of questions. she nods her head and gives you her wine, you sip it and place it on the desk. "why do you ask?"

"we've never consummated our marriage, don't you think it's time?" she leans over, eyeing the work on your paper.

"what happened to marriage out of convenience?"

"marriage out of convenience could mean we're sex partners out of convenience," she smirks. she stands up, pushing the paper off to the side. you raise your eyebrow, trying to get her to stop messing with your work.

"sana."

"yes?" she takes the glasses off your face. a coy smile on her lips.

"we don't have to do this."

"i want to. do you?" she stands in your way, eyes trained on yours. a playful smile on her face. you get up to set your mind straight, no way were you sleeping with your non-wife.

"sana, please, you must be drunk." you walk past her, calling out to staff. "hi, could you please assist sana to bed." sana scoffs at you, flipping you off and pushing past the maid.

you return to your desk, eyebrows pushed together and a headache forming. but you can feel that spike in your stomach, you're sexually frustrated.

--

you've been actively avoiding being too close with sana. whenever she circles around, you scoot further away. opting for open spaces where she won't make sexual advances. rejecting her isn't fun either, she gets all pouty about it, but the way she makes you feel lately, has been dangerous. so you try your best to exercise restraint.

in the coming weeks it's harder and harder. some days she visits with your dress shirts tucked into a pencil skirt. walking in like a wet dream into your office. you will yourself to have self control but you can feel it slipping. the way you want to grab her, feel her skin under your fingertips, wanting to wrap around her.

today she manages to get under your skin. "darling, you must be so tired." she slides behind you. and starts massaging your shoulders, pressing the knots away.

you let her, feeling the tension release from your shoulders. her hands move expertly, and soon you feel more relaxed than ever. her hands begin to wander, sliding over your torso and frame. you turn to look at her, playful eyes staring back at you. you pull her into your lap, grabbing her neck for a kiss.

"i think it would be rather impolite of me to have our first time here in my office. maybe later?" you offer, playing with her pencil skirt.

"i don't care where we do it, as long as we do it now." she smirks and plays with your hair. you pull her up and place her atop your desk. walking quickly to close the door and drop the blinds.

she laughs when push her back, back hitting the desk, and then you lean over her. giving her a long kiss, before sliding your hands up her legs.

"come take what yours." she grins. you begin unbuttoning her shirt, hands trailing down until they reach her hips.

you kiss her fervently, moving towards her like a magnet. "yes miss minatozaki."

--

you might have to label yourself a sex addict, maybe a sana minatozaki addict actually. after sleeping with sana, you can't keep your hands off of her. often messaging her and taking days off to be around her.

it's unlike you, so unfocused and nonchalant about work. but you can't help it, sana feels like a drug and you need your supply. so here you are in your study, trying to clean up the smell of sex before your mother-in-law arrives. sana's an absolute vixen and trying to coax you into another round, but you know at any second her mother will walk into the house like its her own.

you spray a scent over top of the room urgently before closing the door behind you. a clingy sana kissing you deeply, trying so very hard to get you in bed with her.

"sana, no. your mother will be here any second." you force yourself to be the bad guy, pulling her arms off of you. to which she flicks your forehead.

"sana!" the sound of her voice booming like it's through a speakerphone. sana immediately tenses up, posture straight like a board.

"hi mother."

"glad to see you still recognize me." her mother chastises her. you watch the two woman, and you stay quiet. letting sana speak to her mother in a hushed tone, while you stand nearby.

it's hard to get a gauge on sana's mother, she's fierce and demanding. you also can't tell if she likes you, she keeps her distance. but you also can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. oftentimes she shows up requesting your presence at her events. but you play the part well as much as you can.

the older woman walks towards your living room, where she was months ago, and requesting you to marry her daughter. now she moves around your home like it's her own.

"now that you two have been happily married, it's important to discuss the next step." she starts. "we need heirs, multiple."

you and sana look at each other in horror.

"sana was the only heir in her generation of minatozaki's, i need you two to produce more than a single heir. to protect the minatozaki clan." she states firmly.

you groan into your hands, horrified at the conversation. and for the first time you see the matriach smile as she shows off photos of sana as a baby, cute as a button.

it does make you wonder about having a little sana running around, so you take the conversation topic in stride. letting the matriarch discuss traditions, schooling, extracurriculars and education to maintain the minatozaki standard.

sana is horrified to hear all this from her mother, but when she leaves, a light bulb turns on in her brain. then she smiles at you in that knowing smile.

"honey, come on, you heard my mother. we have to produce heirs. you know what that means?" then she wiggles her eyebrows as she drags you upstairs.

and you let her.

--

a/n: sana, sana, sana. she's been plaguing my mind recently. hope you enjoyed, proofreading is difficult work so i didn't do it. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[authorhjk1]

How does DC give head? 🤔

Jiu

"Oh god."

You groan when you feel Jiu's tongue swirl around your tip. Both her hands are placed on your thighs, your own hand on the back of her head. But you don't do anything. Jiu is the one taking good care of you.

"Does this feel good, baby?"

You can only nod, silently begging her to put her lips on your cock once more. It isn't even the way she gives you blowjobs. It's just the fact that she seems to enjoy herself so much while doing so, that turns you breathless. And it isn't that cock hungry lust either. It's pure affection.

Jiu only has eyes for you. Especially in the bedroom.

SuA

"C-Can you slow down?"

"Take it like a man."

SuA's response makes your head roll back as she sucks on your tip once more. She is stroking your cock with a torturous pace, making you flinch, whenever she tightens her grip a little. SuA always pushes you right towards the limit. She sucks you off very aggressively, before stopping at the last moment. Then, she strokes just as fast, threatening to hurt you badly, just so she can stop right before the edge once more.

"I-Please..."

"What's the magic word?"

"Mommy?"

"Good baby boy."

She likes it when you call her that. You always feel a little ashamed afterwards, after giving her so much control over you. But if that means she'll let you cum...

Siyeon

Siyeon likes to play with you. Similar to SuA. The only problem is, Siyeon doesn't understand the difference between privacy and public.

"C-Can't we wait, until we're home?"

Siyeon looks up at you as you melt further and further into the sofa, which is standing in Dreamcatcher's dressing room.

"Why?"

Her innocent face and the tone of her voice conflict with what she is doing to you right now.

"What if the others...."

You can't finish your sentence. Siyeon has decided to shut you up by letting her tongue dance around your length a couple of times.

"What if the others what?"

Once again, she makes you think that you're the problem and not her.

"Don't you like what I'm doing?"

"I-"

Before you can answer, Siyeon is all over your cock once again. And so, like after every Dreamcatcher performance, you're left with anxiety, fear and pleasure at the same time.

Handong

If there would be an Olympic competition for not running out of ideas for roleplaying scenarios, Handong would definitely win gold.

You can't count the amount of outfits she only bought for sex. Just like this one. A grey, see through blouse, her black bra clearly visible. Expensive looking glasses and the tightest and shortest skirt she could find.

You've seen Handong several times in this outfit before. Strict teacher Ms. Kim, rich heiress Lady Handong, submissive student Dongie. But today she is someone different once again.

"W-We shouldn't be doing this."

You groan when you feel her soft hands stroke your base, while her tongue plays with your tip. So far, not one of her characters was a miss.

"It's okay, sweetie."

Handong looks up at you, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I'm not your real mom anyways. And as your stepmom, it's my job to take care of you."

Yoohyeon

Yoohyeon is never the one who initiates something sexual. Even when she's in the mood, she just clings too you, until you finally suggest something. And public sex isn't really the things for her either.

But when the two of you are alone, that's where she shines. She always seems sweet and shy, so you never expected her to be this much into being tied up. Just like right now.

Yoohyeon's hands are tied behind her back, and a collar decorates her neck. The end of the leash, or rather chain, is loosely lying in your right hand.

"Am I being a good puppy for you, master?"

"Yes, you're a good girl."

You pat her head as Yoohyeon resumes her blowjob. She does take the pet play to an extreme sometimes, but you like it the way it is right now the most.

"You're doing great."

Yoohyeon gives you a gorgeous smile, but you force her back onto your cock by pulling at the chain a little.

Dami

Dami puts her finger on her lips, telling you to shut up. Her other hand is covering your mouth, making sure the two of you don't get caught.

She resumes her blowjob a moment later. You feel your eyes rolling back as she swallows your cock.

It's late already and SuA and Jiu are sleeping on the couch right next to you. The credits of the movie you just watched are still rolling. But like always, Dami just has to tease and play with your anxiety at every chance she gets.

"Be a good boy for me and stay quiet."

She whispers, before focusing on your cock once more. You groan into her hand as you feel Dami slowly forcing her mouth further down your shaft, until your cock finally fills her throat.

Gahyun

"What the hell, Gahyun?"

You push her head off of you. Your cock is covered in her spit, her mouth messy as well.

"I told you."

A mischievous grin plays around her lips.

"Voting for me to get killed during the mafia game will have consequences."

"I was just playing the game, Gahyun. I-"

Before you can react, Gahyun starts to fuck her throat with your cock once more.

"Fuck!"

You can't help but groan loudly. Which is still not as bad as the sounds she is making. All of Dreamcatcher must hear the youngest gags as she keeps impaling her throat on your cock. Spit bubbles form on the base of your cock, while Gahyun's hands are placed flat on your thighs to give her more leverage.

"Gahyun..."

It's a combination of groan and plea. You can almost see Jiu's disapproving look right in front of you as her precious maknae ruins herself all over your cock on purpose.

When Gahyun finally takes all of you, her lips kissing your base, she stays in place for a while. The silence doesn't last long though. After a couple of seconds, she starts to cough up spit, drenching your cock in even more saliva. By now the whole group must know what's going on.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

i 

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow. 

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest. 

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair. 

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all. 

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue. 

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left. 

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away. 

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?” 

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment. 

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows. 

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.” 

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat. 

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you. 

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug. 

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.” 

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change. 

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?” 

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured. 

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?” 

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye. 

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.” 

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…” 

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room. 

“Do you find control attractive?” 

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly. 

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs. 

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.” 

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.” 

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.” 

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement. 

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.” 

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds. 

“Then who, may I ask, are you?” 

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.” 

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer. 

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes. 

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.” 

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame. 

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly. 

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?” 

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him. 

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?” 

And just like that, it’s become a game. 

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper. 

“Being found out…” 

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone. 

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?” 

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets. 

“So far,” he sighs. 

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.” 

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically. 

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages. 

“Thomas Wayne.” 

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless. 

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk. 

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?” 

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades. 

“And why would I tell you that?” 

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head. 

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.” 

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts. 

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond. 

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.” 

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either. 

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.” 

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes. 

“You admire me?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.” 

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you. 

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.” 

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him. 

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.” 

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly. 

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne. 

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back. 

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted. 

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease. 

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.” 

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned. 

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?” 

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be. 

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book. 

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention. 

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat. 

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body. 

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.” 

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down. 

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit. 

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.” 

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?” 

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.” 

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits. 

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow. 

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?” 

“It would be mine too.” 

“Against Thomas Wayne?” 

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair. 

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.” 

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.” 

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk. 

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale… though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat. 

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.” 

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly. 

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet. 

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.” 

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness. 

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one. 

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.” 

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”  

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…” 

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods. 

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.” 

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses. 

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city. 

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild. 

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress. 

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face. 

“Damn you…"

[muffinsin]

Hey! It’s been a long time since I’ve been on your page and I saw that the request happen to be open.

Could you please write headcanon to the dimitrescu family (and Donna, I wasn’t sure if you do her too because my blind ass couldn’t find it😭) with a nerd s/o? I never read something like that and I think it could be really cool!

Thanks if you write this and thanks for taking time to read this request, wonderful day!

For sure, hon, what a fun prompt👀! :) I honestly had such a fun time writing this XP

Let’s get into it🙌

Masterlists

Bela

You came to the castle not as prey, but as a guest of the Duke himself, an outsider

That itself intrigued her

A scholar, maybe? A distant relative? She isn't quite sure

You'd think you messed up your first impression with her, though, she found you to be quite adorable

Overly polite, bumbling, nervously clinging onto your notebook within her presence, trying hard to keep eye contact even as she'd notice you glance at the floor more often than not, easily intimidated by her confidence

She figured- you'd be gone within the same week, too soft, too clueless about the castle and its inhabitants, too curious for your own good

But- days blend into a week, and weeks blend into a month

You're well adjusted, all things considered- perhaps not quite as social as the staff usually is, but she can hardly blame you for that, easily annoyed with their constant blabbing herself

It isn't overly often that she sees you, though, being a guest at the castle, she occasionally sees you at dinner when you're invited

And what easily- and quickly- captures her attention is your mind

How you speak of your niche interests with such passion, your voice changing when your favorite topics are brought up

Being from the outside, she often finds herself a little confused at what you're describing, but is intrigued nonetheless

In the back of her mind she thinks occasionally; perhaps you will teach her, sometime

She notes early on that you're particularly well informed and observant, too, often mentioning things of the cadou little outside of her family should know

Instead of threatening you, however, she listens

One day, she has the opportunity to get to know you a little more- and you her

She's dragging back a lycan, twitching still, bloodied, snarling a little. Her shoulder sports a deep scratch from when the beast got to her, a humiliating reminder that she does not live up to her sisters' hunting capabilities. She plans on having her dress patched up to hide the humiliating mark as soon as possible, before anyone has the chance to see

But you do

You rush to her to help her carry the massive animal inside, helping her lift rather than drag it to avoid messing the floors further

Your hands shake, but you're determined to help, still

And when you find the deep scratch on her, your trembling hands hover over her arm, asking for permission

It's the first time someone outside her family touched her without fear- or worse, false worship. Just genuine concern

It stays with her

And while the two of you become closer from this point on, it takes ages- you'd often complain once together- to actually begin dating

She's stubborn, tries to convince herself it's nothing but passing curiosity on both sides

She's Bela Dimitrescu! She doesn't do crushes!

Meant to be headstrong, composed at all times, the responsible heiress with only her family's- especially the one of her sisters- wellbeing in mind and the wine company

But then you bring her a book you found in the library detailing symbiotic parasitic bonds and she blushes, spotting your cheeks turning an equally pink colour when she thanks you

Her heart stutters, her flies buzz so loud you tilt your head a little, concerned. She's quick to shut them down again

Her face, however, took a little while longer to go back to its pale colour

You soon notice- Bela is watching over you, always. When someone insults your hobbies or looks at you the wrong way, they're suddenly banned from your wing of the castle, scrubbing dirt from the grounds all the way across the place, or even forced to tend to the kitchen- a deadly job with how often Cassandra and Daniela feel like having a midnight snack

It's the first time this happens that you realize, she is really watching you, doesn't just happen to be around as you thought

In the end, it's her making the first move, at last

She invites you to join her for dinner, a private one shared just between the two of you

She starts out with light conversation about the books you gave her in the past months, her cheeks pink as she shares her thoughts and you eagerly share yours in return, often matching hers almost exactly

When it's time to depart again for the night, she does so by cupping your chin between strong fingers, her head tilted down a little

"May I?"

Your heart races and mind stutters. You try to say "yes", but only a few sounds come out, prompting you to eagerly nod your head in return

Endearing, in her eyes

That night the two of you share your first kiss

Bela doesn't keep your relationship a secret- on the contrary, she becomes not only proud of it, but enjoys making clear that you are hers when needed

She isn't big on showing affection in public, even only in front of her family, but this changes drastically when she finds someone eying you

Then you giggle, feeling her slip her arm around you, her lips by your ear, reminding you that you're hers

In return, she loves it when you drag her to the library when it's unoccupied, feeling like a lovesick teenager again when you begin kissing her shyly, even after all this time

You're shy about her at first, but behind closed doors? The two of you are even more inseparable than one might think

It's a peaceful, beautiful relationship

She'll cradle your head in her lap while you ramble about your latest interest, gently trailing her fingers through your hair and humming along

She always remembers, often even enjoys sharing in your interests together

Sometimes, this leads to the two of you talking about things for hours, constantly giggling and coming up with new theories and connections, especially as it comes to your favorite books, which Bela always picks up too, if only to be able to talk to you about them properly

Bela herself is big on reading and learning new things, but at other times she simply enjoys hearing you speak, too

Usually these are quiet evenings with her head on your lap, her beautiful, blonde hair curling around your fingers as you massage her scalp and ramble

Again, she'll hum occasionally to let you know she's listening, until you eventually notice her silence and look down, giggling as you see she's fallen asleep

You could never be happier

Cassandra

The two of you meet in the one place none would expect to find Cassandra Dimitrescu in:

The library

And really, ordinarily she would never be found there. Though, having fought Bela for at least half an hour on whether or not she tore Daniela's book for having it waved in her face- which she absolutely did- it seemed easier to just accept her sister's words and clean the library as a punishment

That is when she sees you

You're so caught up in your research, so comfortable after having been allowed to browse the library and visit the castle from Mother Miranda herself, you barely even notice someone enter

And too focused on deciphering old Latin, you certainly don't notice the furious brunette stalking through the door

Her first reaction? Irritation. Did Daniela let another human in? Even Cassandra knows the library is not accessible to the staff at night! Or shouldn't be, at least! Her fingers twitch with the urge to break your neck, to sneak up like the predator she is

She almost does so, almost sneaks behind one of the bookshelves to get closer undetected

Then, however, she rolls her eyes as she imagines Bela scolding her for leaving yet another body on the grounds, staining Daniela's precious library

Perhaps not...

Instead, she growls quietly under her breath

Yet, you don't even flinch, not even when she slams a heavy book shut behind you

You just apologize, explaining the error in some date system on page 47

She frowns, confused, angry, intruiged

Maybe, it's because you would never guess to meet the infamous, sadistic, dangerous Cassandra Dimitrescu in the library of all places

But you don't cower, you don't seem to fear her

You look up at her with wide eyes, apologizing for pointing out the error- and completely missing that she could not care less about it, or the book, or the stupid library

Still, there's no fear in your expression and tone, no terror in your heartbeat

There's only awkwardness, and honesty. She's so thrown off, she doesn't raise her sickle, doesn't even snarl. She just...stares, and let's you stay, half listening to you as you turn back to the book and ramble

She doesn't really take in your words, couldn't care less about the book or the words you're trying to decipher

She just- stares, unsure what to do or think

In the end, she does manage to snap herself out of it

In the end, it's you organizing the library for her as she watches, arms crossed, occaisonally playing with her sickle when she gets bored. You ramble still, she barely listens

You don't mind

You appreciate her letting you talk and speak your mind, even giggle when you say something wrong on purpose or stutter over your words and she doesn't even quirk a brow, utterly disinterested

You don't mind, not really

She's cute...

From this point on, the game between you begins

You see her more and more often, your heart beating fast and cheeks flushed pink every time she leans close or stalks around her

She asks you one question after another, teasing you when you stumble over words and calling you "Nerd" almost affectionately

You start calling her out on her grammar when she yells

She secretly loves it

Soon, the two of you begin to bicker playfully

She teases, you blush and correct her grammar

She threatens to hang you off the roof, you remind her how badly her family would take to this

Eventually, the sparks catch fire

She catches you out in the open, jumping out with a "Rah!" and laughing when you scream, your books dropped, your hands shielding your face instinctively

She coos, teases, insists how beautiful it is when your heart goes pitter patter, so fast, and faster, and faster

One night you're at the library again, studying late when you prick your finger on one of the pages of a new book

You hiss, and- unsurprisingly- she's on you in a second- snarling, hungry, fang-like teeth bared

But then she sees the way your hand trembles as you move your book, not from fear, but panic of ruining what is so precious to you

She tilts her head, watching you

In that moment, realization strikes her

She could destroy you. She wants to- but more than that, she wants to keep you

It's horrifying. She hates it. She's obsessed

You're left confused when she suddenly swarms away again, gone as fast as she appeared

It's a day or so until you see her again- surprising, given she would jump out at you or stalk you numerous times a day up to this point

Then, her confession comes one night

You jump awake feeling something prick you in your sleep, gasp to see her on top of you in your bed in the dark room. She holds her sickle to your throat, though you know she won't end you. She rarely uses her weapon on you, rarely bites you. She just likes the control the possibility of it gives her

Then, she speaks, her words low, her voice a growl:

"You're mine, got it? I don't care that you're human, or nerdy, or soft. You're mine", she growls out

Your cheeks heat up in an instant and you're so flustered you nod like an idiot

Perfect, to you, still

In a relationship, Cassandra is protective as can be

She's almost feral about your safety, but also your happiness. She knows she can't quite match you regarding your interests, finds it too difficult to pay attention when you speak of anything that doesn't interest her

And while she feels bad at this particular thing, she has other means of supporting you

She buys you whatever she thinks is even in some relation to your interest. You like plants? She's ordered the staff to fix up an entire part of the garden just for you, made others plant numerous plants inside for you to study and examine more closely

You like books? She listens to you read, often growling at boring sections, but there all the same

This, you find precious, even knowing she won't remember your words. She doesn't have to remember what you read to her, you think, but she's there. She's usually laid in your lap, snarling a little, playing with her sickle or dozing off on quiet days

She doesn't notice when you read your favorite book over and over again, barely paying attention. You only giggle, curious about the numerous reactions the same passage can bring from her

Sometimes, a scowl. Sometimes a snarl. Sometimes a huff and a little, fond call: "Nerd...", sometimes nothing at all

This aside, Cassandra is incredibly teasing in a relationship, much like she was prior to one

She constantly refers to you as "Nerd", even when she kisses and bites lazily at your throat, giggling whenever she hears your heart beat faster

At other times, she reads your notes and pretends not to understand, waiting for you to explain everything only to grin and giggle once you realize she's just messing with you

Despite her teasing and the playful nickname, though, Cassandra genuinely loves your mind

She loves how passionate you are, loves how smart you are

Sometimes, she'll throw out random questions just to hear you go on a ten minute ramble

She doesn't care what the topic is and even if she stops listening halfway through- if you're excited, then so is she

Daniela

The day you met her was a rainy one, one of your first few days at the castle after being moved there for your studies

You're sat at the table near the library, quietly scribbling in your notebook about your latest thoughts and theories to a book you've found there

You barely even look up when the door opens, barely even notice the beautiful woman entering

Now, Daniela wasn't supposed to find you- she was skipping her chores as she usually does, sneaking around looking for something fun to keep her entertained

Instead, she found you, sitting by the table, countless books and notes sprawled out around you, ink on your fingers from writing

Her first thought?

"Can I keep them?"

You jump, flinching away in surprise when she suddenly swarms to you and sits at the table, just barely avoiding sitting on one of your notes

Her legs swing gently from the table, playfully even, as she tilts her head to read what you've written

"What are you doing, little one?", she coos, looking genuinely curious

Your heart beats fast and cheeks heat up at how close she is, her beautiful, golden eyes taking your breath away briefly

You're left stammering something about your notes, panicked, trying hard not to make eye contact when you feel your cheeks heat up even more

It's the cutest thing she has ever seen

She laughs, a sound so beautiful it has your heart beat a little faster

From this point on Daniela latches onto you like a cat with a toy

She shows up every time you sit down to work, leans onto your desk, flips through your pages as she hums curiously

Sometimes, she outright plucks the pen from you

Often, you find she's interrupting every single note you try to write with some personal question she just thought of

The concept of personal space? It's like she's never heard of it

She's always close, usually leaning on your desk or sitting on it. But when there's no space? Well, your lap seems to suffice

The first time she sat on your thigh your heart nearly stopped, then beat so fast you swore you're about to die

She only giggled, playing with some loose strands of your hair, twirling them around her finger as she asked yet another personal question

She's adorable, but a menace, really, and such a tease

When you work, she sometimes finds herself- bored

She cares little for your work, even as she constantly asks what you're doing when she sees you, often seemingly forgetting about it a minute after you told her, or simply not caring

Still, boredom hardly means swarming off to her. Not when she likes you so!

As such, you often find yourself blushing when she lays with her head on your lap instead, her hand reaching up and fingers poking your cheek or throat a little

Subtly, you started working at sofas and the floor more, hoping she might curl up next to you, which she usually does these days

Sometimes, she goes as far as flirting with you, leaning in close only to blow some air on your lips when she's close enough to press them against yours. She always giggles, as though pleased with herself when you gasp and blink, utterly flustered with your eyes glued to her lips

She's used to teasing, used to making someone feel flustered

What she's less used to? Someone reciprocating her efforts

One day you're sat at the floor in the library, smiling as you usually do when she finds you easily. This time, however, your arm stretches out towards her and you offer her something: a gift, shaped like a book

Naturally, she eagerly tears away at the wrappings, cooing like a child at Christmas morning and throwing the paper away recklessly. You make a mental note to pick it up after, not quite as spoiled as Daniela

It's a book telling tragic, romantic vampiric myths and she's over the moon! Seeing you wrote a little note at the front stating your favorite ones and the chapters to find them in, she freezes a little

No one has ever done something like this for her

She throws herself into your arms, giggling and kissing over your cheeks until you sport at least four lipstick marks on each of them and your skin is flushed bright pink

Only then does she curl up like usual, her head on your lap, reading the book somewhat silently as you work

She interrupts you often, cooing, giggling, telling you about a passage. You don't mind, even take a break from your work to give her your undivided attention, and she eagerly soaks it all up!

In Daniela's somewhat deluded mind, she doesn't recall not being in a relationship with you

You're her obsession, her everything. You make her so happy, and the same goes for her to you! As such, confessing her adoration to you comes rather naturally

It comes on a stormy night, again in the library. It's quickly become your favorite shared spot

She's curled up on your lap again, both of you sat on blankets on the floor when you notice her cuddle just a little closer

You don't stop her when she gets fully in your lap, her head resting against your shoulder as she makes herself small on top of you. You only stroke her back and hair, scratching her scalp with practiced ease after having had her head in your lap so often over the past weeks

Now though, she whispers, her usual, loud and excited voice quiet;

"Don't ever leave me"

You promise; "I won't", and it's enough for her

You're hers, unspoken, but natural, and she is yours

Seeing as, mentally, she has been with you for so long, the confession changes little to nothing at all

She's clingy still, often reading while you work or demanding your attention, often whining into your neck when you press her head there and gently shush her for interrupting your work over, and over, and over again

She rarely minds, finds it fun when you playfully shut her up. Sometimes, you feel her grin against your throat just before she bites, drawing a sharp gasp from you

In no time feeding is a part of your routine, and a break in which you know you can get work done without your girlfriend interrupting- normally, that is, for even then she sometimes pulls away, hazy, sleepy from the blood pooling in her stomach- only to ask "Did you have candy today?", or "You taste so well!", or perhaps simply "Can we go to the gardens later?"

You always comply, she has you completely wrapped around her finger

But, the same can easily be said for you, too

She's enthusiastic about your hobbies, always listening with rapt attention and trying her best to remember it all

She often participates in your hobbies, tries to learn more about it, or simply listening to you ramble when she can't

She thinks it's adorable when you're so excited you trip over words or forget to breathe, which she usually only giggles about and wordlessly reminds you of by pressing two fingertips against your chest, urging you to slow down a little because "she can't have her little human pass out on her"

And while Daniela is all fast paces, mood swings and randomness, she works perfectly with you. You know how to calm her down when a mood swing hits her, often pulling her onto your lap and stroking her hair as you start talking about your interests- even if she's heard it already, she wants to hear again, wants to answer with more than she could in the past!

She loves you so much

Donna

Working in Donna's domain as one of the few humans, you know she isn't the most- social

You don't mind. You find the silence comforting, find it a nice break to be away from others, surrounded only by her dolls and, at very rare times, her

Ah, but she watches you, has been watching you for days, without allowing you to see her

You only notice little things

Books moved, a cup of tea left behind by your notebook when you return from the bathroom, the faint sound of footsteps around you, too heavy to belong to a mere doll, too uneven to belong to a mannequin

She watches you from the shadows, curious, shy, a little scared, even, but oh so tempted

She likes you

One day, she hears you talk aloud as you work- something endearing and a little nerdy, and she can't help but smile to herself. Given she talked a little more, this might even earn you a laugh from her. Alas, it's been years since she has talked enough to let sound slip without permission

She leans a little closer still, and, without quite realizing, closes her eyes and taps her finger against the wall in the rhythm of your voice

You pause, turning

When you do, you see the shyest woman alive trying to disappear into the floor

Instead, you only smile

"It's lovely meeting you, Lady Beneviento"

She doesn't speak, doesn't move for a moment

Then, you giggle a little as she sends you a stiffy nod before moving away again, her cheeks pink beneath the veil

Ah, but she never strays too far

In the days to come, you leave subtle, hopeful signs

A second chair by the desk

Another teacup in case she might join you

She never does, though, and you realize you need to take a different, a more unique approach

So, one day, when you get up to use the bathroom- you leave a note

A tiny slip of paper reading "How are you? Do you like plants? I love your datura stramonium flowers, how did you come by them?"

A little awkward, perhaps, but when you return- taking a little longer than usual- you grin as the bottom of the paper slip reads; "I do. I studied on them as a child and was gifted the seeds by Mother Miranda years ago. My former gardener planted them"

You grin

At last, you have found a way to communicate with Donna Beneviento

This being said, the two of you experience the slowest burn known to man, easily

Donna is terrified of connection. She's never had someone look at her without fear or disgust since her mutation, never had someone consider her a person rather than a myth. You're the first

She's silent, but in time, the two of you find ways to communicate

You leave little notes about, giggling when they're answered

Sometimes, she leaves some alongside with a new book she thinks you might enjoy. In return, you often stay up all night long once you finish it, eagerly writing your thoughts down on a paper to share them with her- needless, as she listens whenever you speak out loud, but endearing nonetheless

Only years later do you realize she has kept each and every one of your notes, tucked away safely in her nightstand where she would read them during difficult times in her life

She leaves you more and more gifts, sometimes even using the dolls to deliver them to you

New books, her notes on her favorite flowers- one day, an invitation

You're curled up in her office, mouth wide open as the dolls show you how to prepare the film strip and slot it into the projector

Coming from the village, this is new to you, and a privilege. Few outside of Donna know how to operate this, few get the luxury of watching something

You're granted to see her favorite flowers and how they're made, something secret she shares only with you. She loves when you write down notes as you watch, eagerly telling her about them after. She isn't there, but you know she must be close by. She usually is

And one day, you come up with an idea

You've finished reading the latest book she gave you, spent all night writing and memorizing your notes and thoughts in order to form coherent sentences

This time, however, you pull something from your pocket as the dolls lead you to sit on the sofa in her office

A blindfold, thick, rendering you completely blind and vulnerable with it on

You tie it tight behind your head, adjusting it until it covers your eyes easily

Then, you speak, your voice breathless and hopeful;

"Will you join me?"

And she did

She joins you more and more often, has you wear the blindfold each time even as you're sure she still wears her veil

You don't mind

She's tender with you, her touch shy, but sure as she guides you when you can't see

She rarely talks, so little you almost think she is incapable of speaking

But when she does, her voice so low and rough from misuse, quiet and whispery, your heart beats wildly and she sees your entire face flush pink even with the blindfold covering you

She smiles shyly to see the wide, happy smile you're incapable of hiding from her

You're the first to confess your feelings

You reach out slowly, blindly, and smile when she trusts you enough to offer you her hand. Holding it, you explain gently; you care for her. She doesn't respond right away, but a squeeze of her hand and her body coming a little closer to yours tell you enough

From this point on, the two of you become even closer than you already were

She begins removing her veil around you, trusting you not to move the blindfold

With Donna, life feels quiet, soft, happy and comfortable

The two of you could sit in a room for hours without speaking, just reading, existing together, or curling up after a long day of working

When you do speak, you're quieter, knowing she flinches from loud sounds, far too used and comfortable in the silence she has created within her domain

Ah, but she reads to you, tries to understand your interests more

She does so love when you ramble, when she watches your face light up even with the blindfold, when she cups your cheeks and feels you smile in her hands as you talk

She loves you, loves your ability to shine within the darkness she creates around her

Again, the two of you take it extremely slow

Little touches, small kisses

She's shy about touches at first, her hands trembling when you hold them, her breath stuttering when you blindly reach out to touch her face, to feel, to brush her hair from it

She trusts you, but she's scared

It will be longer still until you're granted a look at your face, but you don't mind. She gives so much, loves so fiercely. She allows you to brush her face sometimes, knowing you're mindful about her scar. You're never disgusted when you touch her, never are anything but gentle with her

Soon, she begins clinging to you a little more, growing confident

She melts, clinging to your sleeve when she reads to you, burying her face in your shoulder when you cuddle

Sometimes, she falls asleep in your arms, knowing you won't remove the blindfold without permission. Sometimes, you feel Angie, her most trusted doll, remove it only to grant you a little bit of a break from the fabric, knowing Donna is tucked away in your neck until she stirs to wake and you shut your eyes again

Her love language are thoughtful gestures- stitching you a scarf, repairing your bag without telling you, remembering your favorite page in a book and quoting it back when you’re sad. She shows love in tiny, quiet ways that mean everything to you

When you talk about your interests, she always listens, always gives you her undivided attention and tries to craft you something matching those interests

You both love books, solitude, and research

You spend your days wrapped in blankets, buried in notes, swapping passages and giggling over strange translations

And Angie?

She has to admit, in time...

you're not so bad

[vitalverstappen]

The Bolter - L. Norris

summary: as she was leaving, it felt like breathing

pairing: Lando Norris x heiress! situationship! reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, allusions to sex, angst, pining

word count: 5k

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

Sponsorship events were never your thing. It was a bunch of frumpy old business men with race car drivers glued to their hips, begging for money. Not exactly your ideal Friday night. But unfortunately, having the Hilton name attached to you, you were forced to attend a few every year. 

You never did the negotiations - that was all your father. Your job was to simply be the pretty face needed to help sweeten the deal in the company's favor. The idea of smiling and nodding through endless small talk wasn’t your idea of a good time, but it was worth it for the unlimited free stays, free room service, and much more. 

Tonight’s event was hosted by Hilton, an invitation to show off why the company was the best in the business, and why drivers should want to be sponsored by them. With McLaren being based in England, it was only fitting that the event was held at the Waldorf Hilton in London. 

You didn’t want to be there, but it was a necessary evil. The Hilton name had been intertwined with McLaren for years, and you were expected to show up and play your part. As you made your way through the crowd, glancing around for your father, you could tell it was going to be a long night.

Snippets of conversations - racing deals being discussed, numbers being thrown around like they were nothing - were heard as you scanned the crowd. It was all so transactional, so hollow. But before you could find the man you were looking for, your eyes landed on another. 

Lando Norris, stood near the bar, chatting animatedly with a group of people, his signature grin never wavering. He was easy to spot in the crowd, his messy mop of curly hair now styled a bit, but he still had a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You weren’t sure why, but something about the way he stood there - engaged but not entirely invested - caught your attention. It was rare for someone in the racing world to have such an air of self-assurance without trying too hard. You weren’t usually the type to seek out drivers at these events; they all blended together in the same corporate PR machine. 

But you felt yourself being drawn in. 

“Hey Lando” you said, strolling toward him with a soft smile, your voice cutting through the chatter around you. 

His head snapped around, his eyes narrowed for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “Well, if it isn’t the Hilton heiress herself” he said, his voice casual, but warm. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” 

You shrugged, tilting your head slightly. “I like to keep people on their toes, I guess.” you replied, glancing around the suited-up crowd. “I’m just here to make the room a bit more interesting.” 

Lando chuckled, clearly amused. “I think you’ve already accomplished that. The room just got a whole lot more interesting.” 

There was something in his eyes that told you he simply wasn’t making a polite compliment. He was genuinely intrigued, or at least, willing to entertain the idea of more conversation. 

“Well, I guess it’s good to know I’m not the only one bored out of my mind.” you said, offering him a knowing smile. “It’s all business. But at least you get to drive the fast cars and make everyone love you. I’m just stuck shaking hands with people I’ve met a thousand times.” 

“Same here, in a way” he said, leaning back slightly, his tone a little more relaxed now. “I’m usually the one doing the handshakes and smiling for the camera. I guess we both get our fair share of small talk.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “So I’m guessing you’re a pro now?” 

Lando grinned, a playful look in his eyes. “You could say that. But I’m always up for some better conversation. You know, something a little more… real.” 

His words piqued your interest. You didn’t need to be in the racing world to know that Lando was a bit of a heartthrob. The media loved him - he was approachable, funny, and charming. But it was rare to see that side of him in a space like this, surrounded by corporate faces and press agents. 

The conversation between you two grew more effortless, as if the world around you had melted away. You exchanged stories about the absurdity of these events, each of you poking fun at the cliches that came with it. But as the night wore on, you noticed something - something about the way Lando looked at you, something that was more than just playful banter. 

It was the kind of look that made your pulse quicken, just a little. You weren’t sure if he was just playing along, or if he was genuinely interested in you, but the chemistry was undeniable. 

For a moment, you considered pushing him away - making some witty comment to keep things light - but you were curious. Curious to see how far you could take it, how much you could toy with him before he realized what you were doing. 

Some people would say you had a problem, bouncing from one guy to the next, as if they were toys you could discard at your own discretion. Your best friends always poked fun at how you dated, getting them hooked, and then leaving, prompting your nickname The Bolter. 

But you liked to think of it as a talent - an art, really. A talent for keeping things interesting, for keeping people on their toes, and for never getting too attached. You weren’t a stranger to flirtation, to games of wit and charm, and this was no different. 

By the time the event came to a close, Lando had asked for your number. You smiled as you handed it over - just another name to add to your list. You’d let him chase you for a bit, see how far he was willing to go, but in the end, you knew how it would play out. 

The next time you saw Lando, it was at a house party. Your house party. You hadn’t planned for it - you didn’t even invite him. But there he was, leaning casually against your kitchen counter, a beer in one hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew something you didn’t. 

It wasn’t until he caught your eye from across the room that you realized he had been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to notice. 

You took a slow sip of your drink, eyes narrowing slightly as you surveyed him from across the room. Your eyes stayed locked on his as he made his way across the room, stopping next to you. 

“You know” he said, his voice low enough to be a private comment but loud enough to be heard over the music, “you throw a good party” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, though there was an edge to it. “I didn’t expect you to be here” 

Lando just shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smile still on his lips “You didn’t expect half of these people to be here. But here we are.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. The house was packed - people spilled out into every corner. You hadn’t planned for it to be this big, but somehow the word had gotten out, and no one was going to say no to a Hilton party. 

“You never struck me as the type to crash a party” you said, leaning up against the counter. The marble was cold against the bare skin that was peeking out under your crop top. You knew he didn’t just stumble into here. 

Lando leaned in slightly, “What’s it matter to you?” His voice was playful, but you could hear the underlying challenge in it. Like he was daring you to admit that maybe you were glad to see him.

You shifted your weight, crossing your arms as you did so. “Nothing, Norris.” you teased, but your eyes still tracked him, just a little too interested. 

Lando chuckled, unfazed. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to ruin your party.” His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, then returned to you, taking in all of you. “Though I’m sure I could make it more interesting” 

“I’m sure you could” you said, your flirtatious tone returning to your voice. You wanted him to drag you up the stairs. You wanted him to make a mess out of you right then and there. 

But you couldn’t let him. He couldn’t have that satisfaction quite yet. You couldn’t boost his ego that quickly. He had to put in a little bit more work than crash your party. 

Before you could respond, someone in the crowd shouted your name, and you turned away to find one of your friends weaving through the sea of people, clearly looking for you. Without a second thought, you walked towards her, leaving Lando alone in your kitchen. 

Your friend wanted you to be her partner for beer pong, which to the surprise of no one, the two of you dominated. But as quickly as the two of you got to the table and played, you had left it, your focus set for your living room, which had turned into the dance floor, complete with a live DJ. 

Your hips moved to the beat as the bass pulsated through you. The alcohol flowed through your system as you danced, not caring who saw you. The crowd around you blurred into the background, the flashing lights casting everything in almost a surreal glow. The DJ was pumping out track after track, each one pushed the energy higher. 

Then, without warning, you felt an arm wrap around you. Turning, you came face to face with him again. His beer was replaced by a new one, and the same grin tugged at his lips. 

“I wasn’t done with you. I was just getting started.” he said, his voice low and almost raspy. 

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you were flattered or annoyed. “What does that even mean?” 

Lando’s grin only widened, and he took another step closer. “It means, darling, that I think you’ve been ignoring me for far too long.” 

The simple sentences, spoken so casually, spent a spark of heat right through you. You bit your lip to keep from reacting too obviously, but the tension in the air was palatable.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you said, playing it cool, though the way your heart was racing told a different story. “You’re just not as interesting as you think you are.”

Before you could speak again, you felt his lips crash into yours. You were caught off guard at first, not expecting him to make the move then and there. Lando was intense, wanting to know all of you instantly. But as quickly as he had control, he lost it. He got lost in you, allowing for you to take over.

Your hands found their way to his jaw, fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. It was raw, and unstrained, an electrifying push and pull that left you breathless. 

Lando groaned softly, his breath hitching as you took the lead, a grin playing at the corners of your lips when you felt the slight tremor in his body. He wasn’t expecting this - he was used to being in control. 

But now, as your lips moved against his with increased urgency, it was clear that the tables had turned. His hands, once firm on your waist, now roamed relentlessly, as if trying to regain some semblance of power. You could feel the struggle within him, the way he fought to take control again, but you weren’t having it. 

You pushed him back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath. His eyes were darker now, full of desire and a flicker of challenge. “Can’t handle it?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips 

“If that’s what you want to think” you replied before you disappeared back into the crowd of people that managed to fit into your house, leaving Lando with the remnants of your smudged lipstick on his face. 

You saw Lando again a few weeks later, but this time in a nightclub out in Singapore. The lights flashed in sync with the beat, the bass reverberated in your chest as you moved through the crowded dance floor. It was a completely different scene from the house party, yet Lando still managed to find his way to you. 

The two of you had been texting off and on, but not nearly enough for you to expect him to know where you were. But there he was, surrounded by a few other drivers that you couldn’t name, the same uber confident smirk on his lips. 

But the moment you caught his eyes, the smirk faltered for a moment, briefly being replaced by furrowed brows. The smirk returned instantly, but you definitely caught the slip. 

Lando didn’t waste a second as he cut through the sea of people effortlessly. The moment he reached you, the noise of the nightclub seemed to fade, the beat of the music thumping in the background as everything else fell away. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. 

“We must stop meeting like this.” you teased, shaking your head slightly 

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Lando asked, his smirk ever wavering as he leaned in slightly. “Besides, I wouldn’t wanna leave a charming woman like you alone and helpless.” 

You raised an eyebrow, the teasing tone lingered in your voice as you took a sip from your drink. “You’re really starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” 

Lando chuckled, that glint of mischief never left his eyes. “You have no idea.” He glanced over your shoulder, seemingly scanning the crowd before focusing back on you. “What are you doing in Singapore anyway?” 

You tilted your head, pondering his question, “A bit of fun, a bit of escape.” you said, messing with the straw in your drink. “And you?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step closer to you. “Just work. Wrapped up the weekend yesterday, but we all wanted to stay a few extra days.” he explained “Can’t say I expected to run into you here though.” 

You smirked, watching him carefully. “Right, you were just hoping for it.” 

His grin widened at your boldness, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Maybe. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit, I’ve been trying to figure out how long it would take for us to cross paths again.” 

As you took in his confession, the smirk on your lips widened. You had him right where you wanted him. Lando’s confidence, the way he seemed so sure of himself, was usually enough to keep people on edge, but right now, just like it had back at your house, only fueled your amusement. He was enamored by you, drunk on not only the liquid in his cup, but on you. 

Your arms crossed over your chest, careful not to spill the drink in your hands. “Well you certainly have a knack for finding me, don’t you?” 

Lando’s gaze softened for a moment, the playful smirk fading into something more genuine. “Guess I know where to look.” 

Before you could respond, he offered a hand. “Finish your drink, let’s get out of here.” he insisted 

You glanced at the drink before looking back at the Brit in front of you. You knew what he wanted, and honestly, you wanted it too. So, you poured the liquid down your throat, ignoring the burn that came with it, and took his hand out into the streets of Singapore. 

Lando expected to wake up with you, the two of you tangled in sheets and memories from the night before. After all, that’s how it happened when he stayed the night at your place a mere few weeks ago.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of the slam of a door. He shot up, the bed empty, but sheets still warm next to him. 

His heart sank for a moment, confusion mingled with a twinge of disappointment. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the music still echoing in his mind. 

The floor was cold under his bare feet as he stood and walked around the cramped hotel room, looking for any trace of you. But there was nothing. Your clothes had been picked up off the floor, and the McLaren t-shirt he had given you to sleep in was nowhere to be found. 

“Fucking whore.” he muttered as he realized what you had done.

And that’s how it went for the next few months. The two of you would somehow run into each other, leaving with him as the night ended, only to leave his place before the sun rose in the morning. And no matter what Lando said under his breath about you when he woke to an empty bed, you knew he’d always be coming back for more. 

The first time you saw Lando and neither of you took the other home was in New York. 

You were there for work, or at least be the Hilton family representative at all of their executive meetings, as your father was busy doing the same out in London. In between the long, boring meetings, you found yourself tapping through social media, ultimately ending up on Lando’s Instagram story. 

The photo was of Lady Liberty, with the simple location tag carelessly slapped on it. Based on the angle, you could tell it was taken on the New York side of the bay, most likely from Battery Park.

You don’t know what came over you, but you opened your text messages, and typed in Lando’s name. You stared at your phone for a moment, unsure of what you were doing. It had been a while since you last saw Lando, and while you had been fine with keeping it that way, now that you two were in the same city, the urge to see him again crept in. 

You quickly typed out a message, second guessing yourself with every word.

You: you’re in town? How long?

You pressed send before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger hovered over the screen as you waited for a reply. You didn’t expect an immediate response, but a part of you was eager to hear from him, to see if he’d bite. 

Seconds later, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen, a smirk playing on your lips as you read his response. 

Lando: til friday. Might need a tour guide for the rest of the week. 

You paused, considering your options. It was the last day full of meetings, and you had no places to be until next week, giving you plenty of time to show Lando around the vast city. But did you actually want to. 

You: send me your hotel address. I’ll pick you up at 11am tomorrow

You weren’t surprised to find that he was staying at the Hilton in Midtown, thankfully only a few blocks away from Central Park - taking a taxi or the subway with a famous athlete never ended well. 

When you arrived at the hotel, you spotted Lando standing in front of the revolving doors, looking very much like himself in a hoodie and sunglasses, his usual smirk plastered on his face. The second he saw you, the same cocky grin appeared. 

“You actually showed up.” he teased, arching an eyebrow as you approached 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile formed on your lips. “I’m not that unpredictable” 

Lando raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I beg to differ” 

“Whatever” you mumbled 

You led Lando through the bustling streets of the city. This place was a part of you, you knew it like the back of your hand. As you walked, you pointed out the places in the city that you held a little closer to your heart, the little corners of the city that tourists passed by with no thought.

“So this place,” you said, pointing to a hole in the wall Japanese restaurant, “serves the best ramen, and they’re open incredibly late. It’s a perfect spot or dinner or after a night out” 

Lando glanced over at the restaurant, eyeing the neon sign above the door. “I guess I’ll have to check it out sometime.” 

You continued down the streets, pointing out the bodega you go to religiously to cure your hangovers, and the coffee shop you stop at when you need a pick me up before meetings. 

Eventually, the two of you found your way to Central Park, specifically to the boathouse. After paying to rent a boat, you made your way down to the shore. 

“A rowboat?” Lando asked skeptically 

You smirked as you handed him an oar, leaning back against the edge of the boat with a casual air. “What, you’re afraid of a little manual labor?” 

Lando shook his head before taking the oar in his hands. “I just wasn’t expecting something so calm from you.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, settling into the boat and adjusting your own oar. “There’s more to me than you know” you said, your tone playful.

The sounds of the bustling city faded away as you rowed out to the middle of the lake, leaving you, Lando, and your thoughts. Conversation with him wasn’t the worst, but as you spent more time with him, you could see the water in the floorboards start to trickle in.  

You had no problem with Lando’s confidence - it was the thing that drew you in in the first place - but it had a tendency to tip into arrogance, and that was something you didn’t tolerate. Maybe it was because you weren’t a stranger to that kind of behavior. You’d been surrounded by it your whole life. Whether it was your father’s business dealings, or the people who ran in your circle, self-assurance often crossed the line into entitlement. 

And so, instead of taking him to that Japanese place you had mentioned earlier, you walked him back to his hotel. You stopped in front of the doors you had met at hours earlier, and Lando faced you, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. 

“Well,” he began, his grin reappearing. “I guess this is where I leave you.” 

You nodded, taking a step back as you gave him a small smile. “Guess so. You don’t need a tour guide anymore.” 

Lando chuckled, the light sound of it echoed in the space between you. “Maybe not. But you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Ouch. 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, masking your hurt with amusement. 

“Maybe,” Lando said with a shrug, his voice much lighter than yours. “But I’m still figuring you out.” 

You met his gaze, steady and unflinching. He was never going to figure you out. “Good luck with that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you almost expected him to say something more, something that would tip the scale between this complicated, almost-friendship and whatever else had been simmering under the surface. But he didn’t. 

Instead, Lando flashed that trademark grin. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

You nodded, your own smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe. Take care, Lando.” 

With that, you turned and walked away, not looking back as you heard him call out your name once more. The door to the hotel clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself standing on the sidewalk, the sounds of the city closing in once more. 

The last time you ever saw Lando was in Las Vegas. 

It had been a few months since New York, and in the time between, you hadn’t spoken much. Sure, there were a few messages here and there, the occasional “how are you” or drunk “wish you were here” texts, but nothing meaningful. You kept yourself occupied with the next guy you had chosen, some up-and-coming actor no one really knew the name of. 

You were in Vegas for a friend’s birthday, and your group had been bouncing from casino to casino letting your money and the night run wild. 

It was late when you saw him - at a bar on the Strip, a neon-lit, smoke-saturated lounge tucked away in the back of a casino. The crowd was loud, music pounding through the floor, but Lando was easy to spot. Even in the haze of the flashing lights, his smirk was unmistakable. He was leaning against the bar, surrounded by a few faces from Formula 1 that you still couldn’t name if you tried. 

When he saw you, the world around you seemed to pause for a second. His eyes found yours, a flicker of recognition flashing before that stupid fucking smirk retured, like he had been expecting you the whole time. 

Though, as easy as it was to meet his eyes, it was easier to tear your gaze away from them. 

You looked away quickly, engulfing yourself back into the conversation you were having with your friends about the worst name to give a child. Even though your back was turned to him, you could feel his eyes still on you, piercing through you like daggers. 

Your friend made some remark that made your laugh, but it felt hollow. You could sense him closing the distance between you, even though the crowd still swirled around you like an endless blur. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice broke through 

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. You’d recognize that cocky tone anywhere. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder, just enough to meet his gaze without letting the full weight of his presence hit you all at once. 

His smirk softened just a fraction when your eyes locked. “Thought you were avoiding me” he added, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. 

You forced a shrug, turning back to your friends. “I’m just here with some friends.” 

Lando didn’t move. You could feel his eyes lingering on the back of your neck, the weight of them familiar, too familiar. It was almost suffocating, the way he managed to make you feel like the only person in the room, even in the midst of a crowd that seemed to pulse with life. 

“Right,” he drawled, the mischievous smile never quite leaving his face. “Just here for the party, huh?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you tried to focus back on your group. They were still talking, but your mind was clearly somewhere else. You could feel the tension between you building, thick and unspoken, and it was making you restless. 

“Look,” you said, finally turning to face him fully. “It’s been a while, alright? I’m just not in the mood for all… this.” You waved a hand in his general direction. 

Lando’s smirk flickered for a second, but he didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he seemed to find your discomfort amusing, which only made the knot in your chest tighten. He was putty in your hand, but he wasn’t something you wanted to play with anymore. The need to have you in his arms made you nauseous. 

“I get it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “But you’re still not gonna pretend like we don’t have unfinished business, are you?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his words. “There’s nothing unfinished between us, Lando.” 

For a second, the playful air between you two dropped, replaced by something heavier. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction. When he finally decided what to say, his voice lowered, as if you two were the only ones in the room. 

“Is that so?” he said, the question hanging in the air, sharp and loaded. 

You weren’t going to do this. Not here, in the middle of the bar. So, you grabbed his hand, and dragged him to a hallway away from the noise and the lights. When you got to the hallway, Lando’s smirk returned, expecting you to make a move now. 

“You don’t get to decide what’s unfinished” you spoke instead, trying to keep your voice firm. 

“But what if I think we do?” he asked, his tone now tinged with something more sincere. It was subtle, but you could hear it. A hint of something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten what happened between us.” 

“Yeah, well,” you began, keeping your eyes locked on his. “I’ve moved on. I’m not… whatever that was. I had a fun few months, but that’s all it was, just a few months.” you admitted, the words felt a weight being lifted as they came out of your mouth. 

You watched as Lando’s face dropped, for the first time in a while, the smirk that was usually on his lips was nowhere to be found. The silence between you two was overwhelming as he took in your words. You almost walked out then and there, needing to be taken away by the alcohol and music around the corner, but your feet wouldn’t budge. 

“You really believe that?” he asked softly, his voice almost disbelieving, the cocky bravado slipping further away. “You think we were just… a few months?” 

You swallowed hard, your heart beating a little faster, but you held firm. It was never easy to let go of them. No matter how many times you bolted, it was still hard to say goodbye. But you knew that the feeling of fresh air and freedom outweighed the suffocation of staying. 

“Yeah” you said, the words coming out with more conviction than you felt. “I do.” 

And with that, you picked your feet up, and walked away. You let the smoke and neon lights greet you like an old friend as you returned to the bar, your friends still in the same place as where you left them. 

“I have the best story for you guys” you said, excitement filled your voice as you returned to the group.

“Is it another one about a boy?” one of your friends teased

“Maybe…” 

[pupyuj]

Arranged marriage with yujinnie 🙏

AAHHH been wanting to do this ask for a while and i finally have my thoughts sorted out 😭🙏 this is gonna have sooo much unnecessary plot but ya’ll know how i roll 😭

unlike most arranged marriages, i’d like to think that yujin doesn’t hold any strong animosity towards you just bcs she was forced to marry you for business purposes 🤓 she was a chaebol granddaughter who was next in line to rule her own company and you also just so happened to be an heiress of some sort plus neither of you had any romantic relations with anyone at the momet—it was a match made in capitalism heaven! 🥰 you lived in the same house, slept in the same bedroom (you didn’t have to but both of your parents insisted that you do so that you don’t totally hate each other), shared the same limo and chauffeur… and yet not a single sign of affection has been seen to be shared between the two of you! well, why would you?? it’s not like either of you expected it from the other 😖

it wasn’t until you took a moment to really look at yujin one day that you started to realize why she was so adored by everyone around her; she was charming, she was friendly, she was polite, and she was surprisingly thoughtful despite her powerful position. meaning she remembers every employee and staff by name and greets them like a longtime friend—hell, she even talked to you like she had known you for the longest time when you first met! she did become a bit more serious and… cool(?) around you after you got ‘married’. a real gentlewoman… with a face to die for oh god!

so nobody can blame you when yujin’s perfectly-sculpted face distracted you from your daily reading! and ofc she notices 🤭 it wasn’t everyday that she would find you acknowledging her presence, let alone looking right at her! when you smiled clumsily and hurriedly tucked your nose back into your book, that was when yujin got the courage to take a seat beside you on the couch… and almost automatically, her hand landed on your thigh 😳 you were used to it as the two of you always had to make it look like that you were a couple in love in the public eye, so yujin tends to have an arm around your waist or holding your hand every time the two of you leave home… but that was business. this was… something else!

“i always forget to tell you how stunning you look every morning…”

“is that part of the act, yujin-ssi?”

“gods, no,” it was really hard to stay composed when she scoots closer with her eyes giving you all the answers to your millions of questions 😖 “why would i lie about my wife’s beauty?” oh yeah she really got you there! 😳 which is why you had no problem when she took your book, put it aside and kissed you… and you knew that by the way her hand slid up behind your thigh and squeezed your ass that your morning was about to be a lot more interesting than usual 🫣🫣

now yujin… she has secretly fallen for you during your time as fake wives! and all she has rlly wanted to do was please you in so many more ways possible… but she’s a romantic at the same time, and her heart jumps at the way you giggled as she princess-carried you up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you down on the mattress so gently before getting on top of you… letting you touch her all over before she starts kissing down your neck… a hand sneaking in between your legs and feeling your wetness leaking through your shorts… 100% she starts getting soaked as well, especially you start tugging on her hair and grinding your clothed cunt on her hand! 😵‍💫

omgomg imagine the shock on yujin’s face when you start whining, “from behind… please.” 🫣 she didn’t know you were needy enough to ask for that kind of thing! and ofc the puppy obliges, taking off your shorts and underwear before flipping you around… yujin had plans to tease your entrance and make you beg some more bcs your voice was just lovely but that would have to wait for another day! she loves the sharp gasp that leaves your mouth when she swiftly inserts two fingers in your cunt… loves it even more when you’re moaning her name while she slowly fucks you, your tightness only adding to both of your pleasures…

at one point yujin would definitely get hungry 🫣 bcs come on! almost a whole year of this arranged marriage and neither of you have slept with anyone! it wasn’t like you both agreed to stay loyal to each other bcs you really didn’t have to, but yujin fell in love with you and something inside your brain always told you to never even think about ‘betraying’ yujin… so this? this was very much a need!! meaning that yujin starts fucking you faster, and harder every second… ah she’s so pathetic she might actually cum from how you’ve been moaning her name so loudly and sweetly! 😳

no joke the way you tighten around her fingers has her going insane 😣😣 she even slows down her pace a but just to feel it more… and you’d been relieved to have a moment to catch your breath but then yujinnie surprises you by suddenly just plunging her fingers inside you, making you squirt all over her hand—embarrassing for you, fucking heaven for her 🤭

and that wasn’t the end of course! yujinnie wants to make up for all the time she wanted to fuck you but couldn’t bcs she thought you weren’t interested… and now that she knows that you are definitely interested and that you can take more than you look… well, guess it’s a sleepless night for the two of you! 😵‍💫🙏

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hello!

I would like to Request a fic where Hinata fell in love with a younger Kuinoichi and gets obsessed with her. All of Hinatas submissive tendencies disappear when she is with the young woman and all she wants is to dominate her.

tw: dub/noncon, fingering, nipple sucking, cheating, age difference, MDLG elements, praise, power imbalance, mommy kink, manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Hinata is a very content woman, she's married to the love of her life and has two beautiful children whom she adores, but being the Hokage's wife can be hard at times, while she is respected as both the Hyuga heiress and first lady of Konoha, she can get rather lonely when Naruto is away from home for so long. But at least she has her children, and their rather interesting friends.

Boruto has been in the house less and less since becoming an adult, but he still comes by occasionally to see his mother and sister, he'll even sometimes bring a friend or two along for his family to get acquainted with, and it's one of those days where Boruto brings a friend home, a kunoichi around his age who he's been friends with for a while, and when Hinata meets this young lady for the first time, she feels a burning, almost scary desire that she's never felt before.

It's not the same feelings that welled up in Hinata when she met Naruto for the first time, it's something much darker, predatory even, it's an almost primal desire to dominate, hardly befitting the elegant Uzumaki matriarch. Hinata doesn't know what to make of these feelings, she's never found herself attracted to another woman before, especially not like this, but she quickly starts to like the new feelings this girl awakens in her, it's a rush, Hinata isn't stuttering at all and her usually soft voice hardens imperceptibly.

Hinata is able to get her alone surprisingly easy, Boruto is almost always in a rush and running off at a moment's notice, and Hinata is trustworthy enough for the girl to feel comfortable around her, and Hinata will make sure she's very comfortable, she's a good mother after all, and this young lady looks like she could really use a loving mommy right now.

"Have you been being nice to my son..? Oh that's good, good girl... Just think of yourself as a member of this family then, and think of me as your mommy..."

Hinata takes her role as a mommy very seriously, it's her job to keep her babygirl obedient and happy, so that's exactly what Hinata will do. While in a more dominant mindset, she'll still be gentle with her lively new friend, there will be plenty of time for Hinata to demonstrate her secret collection of toys later, for now she wants her guest to feel welcome.

While gentle, she is firm too, holding the girl's head firmly against Hinata's own generous breast as her fingers find their way into her panties, Hinata has enough experience with touching herself to know where girls like to be stimulated, but Hinata won't give her the instant gratification she most likely craves, the purple haired woman wants to draw it out, make it as slow and steady as possible.

Hinata will feel a slight twing of guilt for betraying Naruto in such a way behind his back, but she'll quickly push those feelings aside, she knows her husband is a kind and understanding man who understands that Hinata is a woman with needs like anyone else, and he'd probably want to dominate such an adorable little morsel too, so in the end Hinata feels little to no guilt, just a desire to love and dominate this girl.

She won't drag things out forever as much as she wants to, Hinata wants to see how adorable her plaything looks when she's cumming all over Hinata's fingers, her whines of pleasure and discomfort muffled by the older woman's mature breast in her mouth. But Hinata won't be completely satisfied after coaxing out just one measly orgasm, after all she's been aching for quite some time to be pleasured too.

"Good girl~ You came so much for Mommy... Now why don't you come to my room, hmm? My husband won't be home for a while, so I can show you all the fun toys I use when he's away..."

Hinata is glad she finally has someone to spend time with when her dear husband is away, which is often given his duty as Hokage, she's been feeling rather lonely lately, but now she has a little girlfriend to spend some much needed girl time with.