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shanesevikasfuckdoll · 3 months ago

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Surprising Sevika with nipple piercings

Imagine teasing Sevika about getting nipple piercings, and when she goes on a 2 week business trip, you surprise her with it.

Warning: Smut

🚫Men and Minors Dni🚫

"Babe, I'm serious! I think they'll look cool!" You say to Sevika, trying to convince her it's a good Idea to get your nipples pierced. "Plus, you have that lip piercing, and you look cool as hell, babe!" She rolls her eyes at you, clearly not persuaded by your efforts of convincing her. "Who said they don't look cool? But I assure you. It'll hurt." She wasn't entirely against it, but the thought of not being able to play with your tits for more than 3 days was inevitably going to drive her insane. Also, she hated seeing you in pain, and would probably have to deal with you, while you were sore.

That was her argument, atleast. You shut up about it for awhile, thinking about the pain. Contemplating on whether you should disobey her or not. But the more you thought about it, the more enticing the thought had been. You could NOT die, without getting a nipple piercing, and you already made up your mind. You have to get those piercings.

A month has passed since the conversation, yet you were still looking for ways to get that piercing without Sevika noticing right away. You wanted it to be a gift for her, since her birthday was coming up in 11 months anyways. (That's just what you said to yourself to make you feel a little better for going against her.) Regardless, you were getting it one way or another. You just have to make sure she doesn't catch on to you plan beforehand, so she doesn't threaten every piercing and tattoo shop within a 20 mile radius, to refuse serving you. You had to think smarter somehow.

You couldn't think of a single thing to bypass Sevika. Even if you tried.

- "Babe, I'm going shopping, want anything?

"I'll go with you."

- "Babe, I'm gonna meet up with some friends, I might be home late."

"I'm coming with you."

- "Babe, I'm going to take out the trash"

"I'll do it."

- "I can't stand you! I need some fresh air." She grabs your wrist, and pins you down, and kiss you where you stand, giving you a night of passion, and falling asleep in her arms. ending with you still being with her at the end of the day with her death grip that comes with her cuddles.

You tried everything, anything that you could do to make Sevika not suspicious of you. It was a success, she was not suspicious at all, but the reason being you couldn't get past her at all. And you come to the realization of how clingy your girlfriend truly is. You don't mind it, you love it actually, but you just wanna be rebellious and surprise your girlfriend, but now even thinking of it, it seems hard to do.

Until 3 months later, the opportunity was handed to you on silver platter.

"Babe!" You girlfriend shouts from the living room. You quickly run to her, worried something happened, but she just stood there with a briefcase brought to her by Silco. She was making a serious transaction, and she was the only person Silco trusts to do the job well. The job that requires her to leave you for 2 weeks, since the shipment was in Bilgewater. She explains.

"I'll call you everyday babe, I promise. I'll make this up to you when I get home, okay?" She caresses you face, and kisses your cheek, and your forehead, and you try to give her your best poker face, trying to hide your excitement from her. You just pout, and coo at her "Aww, baby, I'm gonna miss you. Before you go, I'm gonna make you your lunch, okay, bubba? Oh, my poor sweetheart, I'll miss you every night, call me okay?" Of course, you are still going to miss your girlfriend. But there was also opportunities to it. For you and her. A win-win situation, really.

You pack her lunch, and send her off with a long kiss, and hug. You stand at your door, and see her walking away, as you wave her goodbye. And once she turned the corner, you shut the door behind you, and you squealed and jumped in excitement.

You go put on some loud music, and open a beer, eat your snacks, and make an appointment tomorrow, 4pm sharp. You dance in your apartment, and get drunk thinking 'tomorrow's gonna be a breeze.'

You text Sevika goodnight, and you fall asleep, happily ever after.

Except. Tomorrow was NOT gonna be a breeze. You woke up at the sound of your alarm clock at 9am. You shut it off with a loud groan. You feel your head pounding, and you just lay there and sulk. Missing your Sevi, and the bad headache. You go to her side of the bed, and smell her pillows, thinking to yourself 'Janna, I miss her. I should call her'

You check your phone to see 2 messages from Sevika from this morning with a selfie, and a text saying 'Just got here. Sleepy as shit. Goodnight my princess, love you. ❤️' You text her back, and lift your shirt up to show her the last time your nipples were going to be unpierced. You take a picture of your tits, and send it to her. "g'morning, love. I hope you had a nice sleep, baby" She's probably still asleep, considering the fact that the timezone in Bilgewater was a couple hours behind, and the fact that she got there so late.

And with that, you get up, and stretch. You go to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, and breakfast. You eat your breakfast, while watching dumb cartoons (They're not dumb, You fucking love cartoons) You like watching them anyways. You keep checking your phone for the time, checking for Sevika's message, but you see there was no response. Again, she was probably still sleeping anyways.

It's now 3pm, an hour before your appointment. Still no text from Sevika, and you're just about getting ready to leave the house. You are worried that you might come across someone that knows Sevika, and'll probably snitch on you, so you wear an oversized hoodie, and sweatpants to hide yourself from potential snitches that'll rat you out to your wife. You grab your keys, wallet, and phone and head out.

You text Sevika "I'm going to buy some groceries baby" with a selfie, and a kissy face emoji. You smile through your lie, and thinking this was the best idea ever. You walked for a bit, nearning the piercing shop, everything going smoothly. Until you come across Ran. Ran is a coworker of Sevika, and may potentially tell on you by accident. You have no choice but to entertain them, since they'll probably get suspicious of you, and you're just nothing but a nervous wreck.

Your eyes go wide as you see them walk over to you. It was still only 3:30 anyways, and you did have time, but who knows how long they'll stick around. "Hey! How are you? where ya going? They wave to you with their bionic fingers, and you just swallow the lump in your throat, and smile at them, trying to hide your nervousness. "H-Hi, Ran, I was just out to get some... Groceries! yeah, groceries!" They just blink at you, with their mouth agape, and they spoke "Uhm, Y/N, the grocery store is that way" They said, pointing the other direction. You mentally slap yourself, and act surprised "O-oh? Is that so? I might have gotten lost or something" Your voice clearly oozing with anxiety, but you might've just come across as weird. "Cut the bullshit, where are you actually going?" They said, raising their eyebrow at you.

You finally break. "F-fine! I'm going to get a piercing, okay? Happy? Just, please don't tell Sevika, please!!!" You get flustered, and your face turns red. You don't really wanna specify on where you're getting a piercing, but you still plead to them not to tell on you. "Hmm, why? 's it a surprise?" they ask. "Yes!!! Yes, so please, do me a favor, just this once." You look at them with puppy eyes, and your hands together. They look you up and down, and chuckle at you "Alright fine. But that's because you know I can't say no to you. I'll keep my mouth shut." You smile, your eyes sparkle a bit. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thabk you, thank you! But, can I ask one more thing?" You look up at them again. They burst out laughing, but you pout at them "Sure are abusing your power over me. But yes, of course. Anything you need?" You giggle them "Please please please don't let anyone else find out, and if you can, please get them away from the piercing shop. I don't want to blow uo my cover." They smiles at you "Sounds like you're going to murder someone, and trying to hide it. But yeah, sure Y/n." You give them a big hug, and you part ways, and you run towards the piercing shop, panting as you open the door.

The time was 3:50 already. And you were just about time. The piercer comes up to you, and asks you what piercing you wanted, and if you're comfortable. They tell you to wait for a bit, as they finish up a client, and you sit there finally able to be calm, with no one familiar in sight.

Until...

*Ring ring*

Your phone rang. It was Sevika. You were panicking, not knowing what to do. You can't turn off your phone, and she knows your notifications are never off for her. You resist the urge to answer it, and you just out your phone on silent. You were nervous on what to say to her later, even more nervous now, for what you're about to do. You don't like not answering her calls, and texts, but you only have to wait a little bit, and then you'll answer it. 'Oh, I'm sorry my baby, I'll make it up to you, I swear, just give me a couple minutes.' You say in your mind. the ringing stops, and you hear yourself get a text message. Another one. And another one. You were able to read it from your notifications, and it reads

3:56pm (Sevika)

- Missed a call

- Babe? Where are you?

- You busy?

- Why aren't you answering my calls?

You were so nervous. You never intentionally ignored Sevika, and you never wanted to. But she only has to wait a little bit more. She calls you agsin, but this time, you put your phone in your pocket, and sigh, as you put your phone on silent.

"Okay, Y/n, you're up. Are you ready?" The piercer asks, as she sterilizes the needle. "Y-yes." At this point, you're starting to feel very guilty. You don't want to make her worry and you're already second guessing yourself. You just suck it up, and think that this is for her. All for her. And selfishly, for you too, but it's all hers. You sigh, and lift up your shirt. "Ready?" The piercer asks. You nod. "Take a deep breath for me." She counts from 1, 2, 3— "AHH! THIS HURTS LIKE A MOTHER FUCKER!" the needle went through. She puts the jewelry in. You breath heavily, and wince from the pain, when she takes it out. "Oh Janna, is this how it's gonna feel for the other one?" You say, with worry. But, maybe you deserve it, just a little bit. The piercer chuckles, as she sterilizes her other needle, and places the needle to your other nipple. "Deep breath for me, okay 1, 2—" "SON OF A BITCH!!! OH MY JANNA!" You howl from the pain. She puts the other jeweltry in, and you try your best not to touch it.

The piercer leaves you a while, to let you see the piercings. You deserved the pain anyway, and it's gone now, just notably uncomfortable. She suggest that you don't wear your hoodie when you walk home, and suggest you just wear the shirt underneath it. Your nipples were hard, and sensitive. They were still healing, after all. You payed, and walked out of there a new woman. You went to your phone, and finally read what Sevika had been texting you. There was a fuck ton of texts, and miss calls, and suddenly, the pain was well deserved. You quickly text her back

4:18pm (You)

- Oh my

- Im sorry, Sevi, I didn't see your texts, and calls

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

At this point, you feel like a bad girlfriend. You head to the grocery store, and finally call her there

"Where have you been?" She asks, clearly angry, "Oh, my, I'm at the grocery store, and my phone didn't ring" You hate having to lie to her, but you're doing it now. In other circumstances, you could never lie to her, but, she'll find out in a bit anyways. "Never ignore my calls again. I swear, I almost went home, because of your ass!" She exclaims, which you gladly accepted. "Oh, please do. I miss you badly, Sevika." You say, while touching your breasts, but avoiding the nipples. She smirks, and now, her mood just changes completely. "Oh yea? I saw your photo earlier. Better be more where that came from." She winks at you. You smirk, and wink back. "Oh, trust me. There will be."

She got home in a week, the shipment was a success, and she got to go home early. You were just getting out of the shower, topless. You didn't expect her to just come in the door. "Honey, I'm hom-" She just stared at you. Your eyes go wide. And you try to cover your nipples. "B-baby, I can explain!" She looks at you with a glint in her her eyes. she quickly throws her bags on the floor, and pins you down on the counter, by your hand, and stares at your hard nipples. "S-surprise, baby! welcome home!" You smile at her, and you lift your chest up a bit to her, to show it off even more. She doesn't talk, she just stares at them, while pinning you, and she looks at you with a raised eyebrow, but still has that hunger in her eyes, that makes it seems like she wants to devour you. "I wasn't expecting you home so soon~" you coo at her. Her face finally resteing, but her eyes are still studying you. She finally speaks. "This looks healed. When did you get this?" She raised a brow again. (Janna, this woman is the CEO of eyebrow raising) It makes you a little nervous, but you finally told her the truth.

"I'm sorry for not telling you, my sweetheart. But, this was supposed to be a surprise for you. All for you." You coo at her, your face inching closer to her. And she grabs your face, and forces her tongue in your mouth. It caught you by surprise, but when you finally processed that she wasn't mad at you, you finally kissed her back with the same amount of hunger as her. There was a firey passion in your kiss—Heavy make out session, really. She pulled back, and smiled at you. "I love you so fucking much, you know that?" You smile back at her, and pull her face towards you, and kiss her nose, and cheeks. You giggle at her. "And I love you, my Sevi" She presses her forehead against yours, and you both smile at each other, and it quickly became a weird form of foreplay again, and you both have that look in your eyes again.

She leans in for another kiss, and you put your hand on the back of her neck, and she plays with your nipples. You moan in the kiss, and pull back "mhm, baby, they're sensitive" You whine at her. She smirks, opens her mouth, and goes to them. Her right hand playing with your right nipple, and she's sucking left. "S-sev, p-please, ah~" You moan her name, making her more eager to tease you. She puts her hands under your ass, and she smacks it. You bite your lip, and you wrap your legs around her, she's pulling you into a deep kiss again, and you kiss her back hungrily. You pull back, and lean on the counter, and she's giving you hickies on your neck, and going down to your breasts. She's gentle with your nipples though. She just touches them lightly, or lick them, but not too hard. "hmm, you look perfect, my baby. I was wrong. Nipple piercings are awesome. On you, atleast" She teases. You roll you eyes, and look up at her. You put your hand behind her neck again, and you smile on her shoulder. "Told you, baby. You were right though, hurts like a son of a bitch. Made it extra sensitive too"

She smiles, kisses your neck again, although you can hear, and feel her chuckling between kisses. It suddenly turns darker quickly, though. She unbuttons your pants, and throws it from across the room. She sits you on the counter, to look at your soaked panties. "Mhm, I've missed this pussy, baby" she puts her thumb near it, but not touching it. Just, teasing. You moan "not as much as it missed you, Sevi. I haven't touched myself, since you left" You tell her, you lean forward, to feel her thumb on you, but she pulls back. "Impatient, are we?" You nod, "P-please, Sevika. T-touch me already, baby. Fuck me, please" You beg. "Oh baby, you know how much I love it when you're like this. All desperate for me. All for me." You nod. You can't take it anymore. You put your fingers in your panties, and touch yourself. She grabs your wrist, and puts them above your head, and she kisses you. Her finger is now circling your cloth clit. You panties now ruined. She smirks in the kiss, and she finally puts your panties aside, and she quickly pumps a finger in you. "o-ah! Sevika! ah! hmm! a-atlea-st w-warn me!" You complain, but you got lost, as her fingers pump in and out of you. She plays with your nipples with her tongue, as she's looking up at you. You look down at her, but your eyes are getting heave as you get closer to cumming.

She circled her thumb on your clit, while she's finger fucking you, and all you can do is take it, and pull her closer to your chest. "F-fuck, s-sevika!" you moan louder. Pretty sure the neighbors can hear you both going at it, the sounds your pretty pussy makes, your loud moans when you scream her name. "Mhm, baby, all mine. This is all mine baby?" She asks, not for assurance, but to tease you a little more. "Y-yes, Sevi-ka, f-uck! I-I l-ove yo-u! a-all yours!" She finds it hot how you find it hard to speak from moaning, and she smirks at you. You're close, and Sevika can feel it, "C'mon, cum for me, princess" she pumps in you again, harder, and faster, the fast, but smooth friction on your clit, you throw your head back, your body convulsing as you climax on her fingers, you pull her closer to you, and your grip on her hair getting stronger. Your moans were now louder, "S-Sevikaa-ah!!! f-uck!!"

She pumped in you a little more, as you calmed down for your orgasm, and she pulls her soaked fingers out of you, and makes you suck on your juices, and puts her fingers in and out of your mouth. She pulls it out, and leans in for a kiss. You breathlessly kiss her back, but pull away immedietly, to catch you breath. "Next time you try and sneak shit from me again, I won't go easier on you." She says, recalling the time you intentionally ignored her for your piercing, and you giggle at her "Yes, baby, I promise, I'll never do it again. Behind your back" You stick your tongue out at her, and she quickly leaned to you, and sucked it. You're both smiling in the kiss, and she grabs a towel to clean you up. "But I gotta say, it was worth it, yeah?" You ask her. She chuckles, and takes another good look at you, before cleaning you up. She hums, "Very worth it." She smirks at you. You kiss her forehead, and she quickly kissess yours too. "Let's go back to shower, you're coming with me, stinky!" You tease her, and make grabby hands for her to carry you to the bathroom. "Oh shut up" She says, rolling her eyes at you, and she carries you to the shower, taking her clothes off, starting with her belt. "Round 2?" She asks, as she pulls her belt out. "Oh hell yeah." You giggle, and answer immedietly. She hops in the shower with you, and you're both giggling like teenage girls. She puts her forehead against yours, and whispers an "I love you" under her breath. You put your hands up her cheeks again, and close your eyes, while smiling. "I love you too. "

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This is my first ever smut, please be nice.

I must warn you all that I am no writer, and I do this for fun, so if you're a writer, and I fell short on a couple things, I'd gladly take constructive criticism and tips on how to be better at this. ❤️

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika my love #sevika arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika my wife #wlw smut #sevika smut

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stereotypical-day · 3 months ago

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stranger danger - the salesman/recruiter (Squid Game) x female reader

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: 𝙮/𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙂𝙞-𝙝𝙪𝙣'𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙣. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞��𝚕 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙(𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛) 𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔(𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝) 𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚂𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜. 𝙶𝚊𝚐𝚜. 𝚁𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝(𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚢). Part 2 Part 3

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5,404

Y/n sat in the back of the conference room of the abandoned building, surrounded by a group of men. It was a rare sight to see a girl in one of these meetings, but now they needed as many people as they could find.

“Now, everyone, listen!” the man who had invited you all here spoke up, standing confidently in front of the crowd.

“The person we’re looking for looks like this,” he announced, pointing to a mannequin dressed in a suit beside him. “He’s tall, probably over 180cm, a good-looking guy in a nice suit, and he’s always carrying a briefcase.” The mannequin looked rather absurd; its hastily drawn face gave it the appearance of a cartoon character.

“And in that briefcase,” the man continued, “he holds a bunch of money and ddakji.” The crowd erupted into murmurs, voices overlapping as everyone reacted. Y/n remained seated at the back, her gaze fixed on the presentation with quiet intensity.

“He plays ddakji with strangers in the subway, and then,” the speaker said as he grabbed a card from the mannequin’s hand, “he hands them this invitation.”

The group grew louder, shifting in their seats as questions buzzed through the air. “What is that? What does it say?” voices questioned.

“As soon as you find someone who looks like this, call the number we gave you,” the man instructed, holding up the card for emphasis. “Take a picture!”

Y/n pulled her phone from her jacket, snapping a few pictures of the mannequin that represented the man they were hunting. She stood up and moved closer to the front to get a better shot.

“Now, now, if you’re finished, we’re going to get started right away,” their boss announced, his voice commanding and sharp. “The first group will take lines one and two. The second group will cover lines three and four. The third group will take lines five and six. The fourth group will handle lines seven and eight. And the last group will cover the Gyeongui-Jungang line and the line to the airport.” He gestured toward a large whiteboard where the subway lines were marked out.

“Make sure you track every train, from the first to the last. Search each one thoroughly and don’t skip any,” he emphasized.

“Yes, sir!” the crowd chanted in unison.

“After looking through the station, take a picture and send it to our group chat. If you don’t do that, you won’t be paid. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the crowd echoed again, their voices reverberating through the room.

“One more thing. The team that finds the guy gets a bonus of 500 million won.” Suddenly, everyone was hyped, jumping and chanting. The energy in the room surged as people prepared to give their best to find the guy. Clapping and cheering, they bolted for the door, eager to start the search immediately and waste no time.

Y/n was assigned to team four, joining the boss and his assistant. She got up after them, ready to put in her best effort. The money was a strong motivator; she was in a tough financial situation and couldn’t afford to slack off.

Pulling her hood over her head, she jumped into the van after her boss. Settling into her seat, she pulled out her phone and stared at the picture of the man they were hunting, committing his features to memory.

Days turned into a routine of tireless searching. Every team checked in daily in the group chat, but as time passed, summer began to fade into autumn. Y/n continued to show up at 6 a.m. sharp at the subway station alongside her boss and his assistant, Woo-Seok. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she sighed as she stepped onto the platform. Even Woo-Seok had started to doubt whether the man they were searching for even existed.

During lunch that day, Woo-Seok voiced his frustrations. “How can you be so sure this guy is real? What if it’s all just some made-up story? We’ve been at this for ages, and no one’s seen anything!”

Y/n sat silently, nibbling on her sandwich as the argument unfolded. The boss, however, wasn’t having any of it. He scolded Woo-Seok, reminding him of how lucky they were to be earning easy money from this job.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” the boss said in a low voice. “Seong Gi-Hun might be a little crazy, but he wouldn’t spend millions trying to find a guy who doesn’t exist.”

“I know, boss,�� Woo-Seok replied, rubbing his eyes with frustration. “But we’ve been searching these stations for two years now. Every single day—for two years!”

Y/n chuckled softly and cleared her throat. “You’ve really been searching for this guy for two years?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“Yes, we have! Even my wife’s teasing me about it. She says, ‘You should find that guy and join those games yourself to bring home 45.6 billion won.’ I swear, if someone was playing ddakji here, we would’ve—”

A sharp, echoing slap interrupted his words. The sound reverberated through the empty subway station, and Y/n’s head instinctively snapped toward the source. There, not far away, she saw a tall, striking man in a suit holding a briefcase. He was playing ddakji with a scruffy young punk.

Her heart raced. She quickly pulled out her phone and compared the man to the picture she had taken months ago during the presentation. Her eyes widened as realization struck.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

Her boss was already on the phone, dialing Gi-Hun’s number. “Follow him,” he instructed firmly. “Don’t let him out of your sight—not for a second.”

They moved quickly, trailing him out of the subway station. They watched as he headed to a bakery and then to a lottery shop. Throughout it all, the man wore a weird, unsettling smile, carrying two bags of bread in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

Y/n picked up her pace, moving closer to keep him in sight. Her boss and Woo-Seok lagged a bit behind, distracted by a street food stall as they grabbed something to eat. The man eventually made his way toward a park, one largely occupied by homeless people.

She chose a bench near the edge of the park, pulling her hoodie up over her head as she took out her phone, pretending to be preoccupied with it. Meanwhile, her boss and Woo-Seok, ever the subtle observers, bought a newspaper and sat beside her, using it as cover while they peeked over the top to keep tabs on the guy.

The man began approaching the homeless, one by one, offering them a choice: bread or a lottery ticket. To Y/n’s surprise, most chose the lottery ticket over the bread.

“Woo-Seok,” the boss muttered, breaking the quiet. “What do you think he’s doing?” His tone was skeptical, clearly perplexed by the man’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” Woo-Seok replied with a shrug, chuckling in disbelief. “Maybe he’s one of the good guys? This is just... weird.”

Y/n stayed silent, her eyes sharp as she carefully observed the man’s actions.

“I think he’s trying to make some kind of point,” she murmured, her voice low but audible enough for them to hear. Both men turned their heads toward her, curious. “It’s like he’s running some sort of social experiment,” she added with a faint chuckle. “This guy is... intriguing.” Her lips curled slightly as she bit the corner of her bottom lip, her gaze never leaving the man’s figure.

The man continued his routine, offering the same simple choice to each homeless person he approached. Bread or lottery. By the time he ran out of supplies, nearly all had chosen the lottery ticket. Only a few had opted for the bread.

As he turned to leave, his long strides gave the impression that he was done, ready to disappear from the scene. But then he abruptly stopped in the center of the park. Slowly, he set the bags of bread and his briefcase on the ground.

The man turned to face the crowd of homeless people, his ever-present unsettling smile widening as he regarded them. Then, without a word, he picked up the bags and began tossing all the bread onto the ground.

Y/n’s lips twitched into a grin as she leaned forward slightly, clearly entertained. The absurdity of the moment was almost too much, and she had to stop herself from laughing out loud.

“Sir, why did you throw away perfectly good food?” one of the homeless men asked hesitantly, stepping forward. He bent down, trying to salvage a piece of bread from the ground, but before he could grab it, the man in the suit stepped on it.

Twisting his foot, the man ground the bread further into the pavement, his unsettling smile never faltering.

“I gave you a chance, and you made your choice,” he said calmly, his voice carrying an almost eerie authority. He straightened, his gaze sweeping across the people surrounding him.

“I didn’t throw this away, ladies and gentlemen. You did!” he declared, his voice rising as he gestured dramatically to the ruined bread. Then, without hesitation, he began stomping on the remaining pieces, jumping and grinding them into the hard concrete with wild abandon.

He looked like a lunatic, but Y/n couldn’t help herself. She pressed a hand over her mouth, muffling a silent laugh. The spectacle was absolutely priceless.

Woo-seok and her boss sat next to her, their faces frozen in a mix of confusion and disbelief as the bizarre scene played out.

“This guy is completely nuts,” Y/n whispered between muffled laughs, quickly pulling out her phone to record. At one point, he even kicked the bread, his shouts escalating into what could only be described as soft, strangled screams. Y/n had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from laughing out loud.

She sent the video to their group chat with the caption: When a gentleman has a mental breakdown LOL.

When the man finally finished, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his breathing heavy. With an air of composure that felt entirely out of place, he adjusted his tie, smiled like he’d just won a medal, and picked up his briefcase. He walked away calmly, as if nothing had happened.

That was it for Y/n—she burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“What the hell did we just witness?” she managed between gasps, her shoulders shaking.

“This is not the time for laughing, Y/n.” Her boss nudged her, already on his feet. “Come on, we have to keep following him.”

Grudgingly, Y/n got up along with Woo-seok, and the three of them hurried after the man. They hopped into a taxi, trailing the car he had climbed into. Their pursuit led them to a narrow alley where he parked and continued on foot, weaving between buildings.

They followed closely, though the man seemed unaware—or maybe he just didn’t care.

“We might lose him if we keep creeping around like this,” the boss muttered, peeking around a corner. “Why don’t we just grab him ourselves?”

“By ourselves? Are you sure about that?” Woo-seok asked, his hesitation clear.

“Why not? Are you scared? There’s three of us and one of him. He can’t take all of us down,” the boss reasoned, his tone dripping with impatience.

Y/n frowned, crossing her arms. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, boss. The guy’s a complete nutjob—did we all watch the same performance in the park?”

The boss waved her off. “How did I end up hiring such cowards? If we lose him, we’re kissing a billion won goodbye. Did you forget?”

Woo-seok, ever practical, interjected, “So, we’re splitting it three ways, right?”

The boss shot him a sharp look. “You don’t trust me, Woo-seok? I got you married, didn’t I? Now stop whining. We’re gonna lose him!”

Before Y/n could protest further, the boss took off, striding casually toward the man ahead. Y/n and Woo-seok reluctantly followed, both equally skeptical.

And then the boss did the stupidest thing possible.

“Hey you, stop right there!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the alley.

Y/n cringed, her hands twitching at her sides. Of course he yells. Why not just send the guy a formal email while we’re at it?

The man in the suit froze mid-step, his posture stiffening. Slowly, he turned to face them, his unnerving smile firmly in place. And then he moved.

Before anyone could react, he swung his briefcase like a weapon, taking down Woo-seok and the boss with terrifying ease. Both men hit the ground, groaning in pain.

Y/n froze, staring at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

The man tilted his head, an eyebrow quirking up as if to say, Really?

Then, without hesitation, he swung the briefcase again. The last thing Y/n saw was it coming straight for her before everything went black.

Y/n tries to open her eyes but can't see anything. Has she gone blind? As soon as she regains consciousness, she realizes she's firmly tied to a chair, her mouth is gagged, and she's blindfolded. A dull headache throbs on one side of her head, making her wince in pain whenever she moves.

She hears her boss and Woo-seok's gagged screams and cries, only a few feet away from her. Fear washes over her as her heart feels like it's going to rip out of her chest, her whole body trembling, but she doesn't make a sound.

Footsteps slowly approach her, and she feels the presence of a man next to her, his hands on her head, untying the blindfold from the back of her head and pulling it down gently.

"Hello, beautiful," he smirks as she opens her eyes to take in the scene in front of her. He was staring down at her, his head tilted slightly with a cocky expression on his face.

She doesn't say anything, blinking a couple of times as her eyes shift to Woo-seok and her boss in front of her, both tied to chairs and gagged just like her. They keep squirming and crying; she's afraid that they will make him angry somehow with all the noise they're making.

He went over to the table and played some music. It was a classical piece, and you could tell he was a man of taste.

Then, he moved towards the chairs where the two men were tied and crouched beside them.

"Now, you're going to play a game. Rock-paper-scissors, minus one," he spoke to the men in an almost formal tone.

"You know the rules? You make a sign with both of your hands, then remove one. The winner is determined by the hands that stay up," he explained in the same formal tone.

"Of course, there is a punishment for the loser," he continued while getting up and taking a revolver from the table.

"You've probably seen this in movies. It's called Russian Roulette," he says so casually that Y/n is shocked by the cold-blooded nature of this man. He doesn't even flinch as he loads the gun with one bullet.

“I will put one bullet in a revolver, spin it,” he says, spinning the cylinder with a sharp flick of his wrist, "and close it.” The gun clicks shut ominously.

“Then, I will put the gun to the loser's head and pull the trigger,” he continues, pressing the gun against his own temple and lowering his face to their level.

“The chances of death are 1 in 6,” he whispers, shifting his gaze to the other man, “chances of survival, 5 in 6.”

Click.

He pulls the trigger against his temple, the gun not firing. He lets out a whistle, the sound echoing like that of a madman as he returns to his towering position above them. Y/n is puzzled, fear now overtaking her senses. This man had willingly risked his life; what wouldn't he do to them?

“Not bad, right?” he smiles, his mood swings as erratic as a storm. “Good, now we play. On my mark.” His voice resumes its chilling formality.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he begins, his voice slow, deliberate. Y/n’s body trembles with fear and anticipation. What fate awaits her? Will he kill them all? Her mind races, scanning the room for any means of escape, but finding none.

“You didn’t play,” he turns to Woo-Seok, his voice eerily calm and gentle. “You broke the rules for the first round. Disqualified.” There's a cold finality in his tone as he raises the gun to Woo-Seok’s head. Both men scream and cry, their pleas muffled by their gags. Only Y/n remains silent, though she feels on the verge of collapse.

He presses the gun against Woo-Seok's head.

Click.

It doesn't fire.

With a deliberate motion, he spins the cylinder again, flicking his wrist to lock it back in place.

“Let’s play again,” he declares, “Rock, paper, scissors.” This time, both play. “Minus one,” and the boss loses. Casually, he lifts the gun, the click of the trigger resounding in the room. Again, it doesn't fire. The boss lets out a gut-wrenching scream, unable to calm despite surviving this round.

Y/n inhales slowly, praying to every deity she knows, hoping just to survive this ordeal. The man smiles at them, pulling a tissue from his pocket to wipe the blood from the boss's face, his smile a dark promise of more to come.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he spoke in an almost comforting manner, “like I said, the chances of survival are 5 to 6. Let’s play again.”

And so they did. He spun the cylinder and they played. Woo-Seok lost. The gun didn't fire. He examined the gun as if puzzled, his eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny.

“It’s starting to get boring, right?” he said with his usual unsettling smile. He picked up bullets from the table and loaded the gun. “Let’s flip the chances,” he announced, “chances for survival are now 1 in 6, for death 5 in 6,” he explained formally as he inserted four more bullets into the cylinder and spun it.

Woo-Seok started pleading, his words barely comprehensible, “Please, don’t...”

“Let’s play again. Faster this time. Rock, paper, scissors.”

He made them play again. They played four times, each a tie. On the fifth, Woo-Seok showed two rocks while the boss had scissors and paper. They were trembling with fear as Woo-Seok broke down in tears.

“Minus one,” he called out, but the boss didn’t play. He had sacrificed himself for Woo-Seok.

“What a shame. You didn’t move your hand,” he said, amusement clear in his voice, his face revealing the twisted joy he was getting from this game.

“Disqualified,” he declared casually, pressing the gun against the boss’s head and firing. The sharp sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, making Y/n jump in her chair, her eyes shutting reflexively for a moment.

That was it; he had killed one of them. There was no chance of surviving this man. Blood splattered across his face and stained the collar of his white shirt; he was completely unhinged.

“Your turn, beautiful,” he said, turning towards her, still clutching the gun. She froze as he approached.

“You’ve been pretty quiet over there,” he observed, his eyes locked on her face as he played with the revolver, spinning the cylinder and flicking his wrist repeatedly. Finally, he set the gun down, moved behind her chair, and dragged her closer to Woo-Seok, who was now choking on his tears.

He kicked the chair with the dead body away, turning Woo-Seok to face Y/n.

“You and our lucky winner here will go round after round. Same game. Same rules. Let’s make this quick. 2 in 6 chance for survival, and 4 in 6 for death,” he revised once more before calling out.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Woo-Seok put out paper and scissors while Y/n had rock and scissors.

“Minus one,” his voice was almost a whisper. Y/n was left with scissors, Woo-Seok with paper.

“Ah, it seems that you lost,” he said, lowering his face to Woo-Seok's level, staring at him with a playful smirk. Woo-Seok kept crying and screaming, pleading for his life, but it was all in vain. The man stood up straight, pressing the gun to Woo-Seok's temple. With one click, the gun fired, the sound deafening in the confined space, blowing Woo-Seok's brain apart.

Y/n let out a soft scream as the gun discharged beside her, blood splattering across her and this insane, nameless man.

“Well, congratulations. You’re the winner,” he leaned over her chair, his hands on the armrests, his face inches from hers, his eyes boring into her soul.

“Now, we’re going to talk,” he said, unclasping the belt around her mouth. She finally exhaled deeply, the air tasting of fear and gunpowder.

“About what?” she spat, her expression a cocktail of fear, frustration, and perhaps a hint of twisted admiration.

“About you, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice as sweet as honey. He leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Surprisingly calm, she stared back into his eyes, her expression unwavering. The whites of his eyes were visible beneath the irises, wide and bloodshot, lending his gaze a frenzied, unhinged quality. His pupils, dilated and dark, seemed to swallow the light, reflecting a madness that made her heart race with fear.

“Who sent you?” he asked, his voice sharper, more incisive than before.

“Nobody sent me,” she replied, her voice strained, her jaw tightening, but she never broke eye contact.

He chuckled, the sound dark and throaty, making her stomach churn.

“Ah, lone wolf. Tragic,” he said calmly, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief. “But see, the problem with lone wolves is they usually lie... or die. And I hate liars.”

He tossed the handkerchief onto the table, tilting his head as he looked at her again.

“So, what is it, sweetheart? Are you lying to me, or do you have a death wish?” he asked, picking up his revolver once more.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes flicking to the revolver in his hand, his long fingers lazily wrapped around the grip.

She stayed silent, not making a sound, as he moved over her again, leaning in so close that his breath mingled with hers, his face mere inches away.

“I know many ways to make you talk, sweetheart,” his breath grazed against her cheek as he whispered softly into her ear. “But... I’m feeling generous today.” He moved back slightly, lifting his hand that held the revolver.

He turned the gun towards her, and her breath quickened. He placed the barrel against her lips.

“Open,” he ordered, his gaze a mix of amusement and darkness. She opened her mouth obediently, and he shoved the barrel inside, positioning it against her upper palate.

For a moment, she truly believed he was going to kill her. He didn't even flinch as he held the gun steady his finger hovering over the trigger, tears streaming silently down her face.

“Aww, sweetheart, there's no need to cry,” he mocked with a fake pout, the gun still in her mouth. “I told you, I just want to talk.”

He paused, the gun's barrel heavy against her mouth, her lips feeling the coldness of the metal. His eyebrows lifted in a challenging arch as he watched her tears, a smirk playing on his lips. The tension stretched, every moment an eternity, before he finally, slowly, withdrew the gun, the metal scraping against her teeth, setting it down on the table with a deliberate click.

“You’re my little winner,” he said, grazing his knuckles over her tear-streaked face, “you deserve your reward then, right?”

He went behind her, leaning over her shoulder, gently moving a strand of hair behind her ear as he whispered into it.

“Tell me,” he breathed, his mouth grazing her ear.

“Who,” he paused, “sent,” his teeth lightly biting into her earlobe and pulling it back, “you?” he finished, releasing the earlobe, his breath warm against her ear.

Y/n shivered; this was a different kind of torture. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes before she replied.

“Nobody sent me,” she repeated, her voice steady for a moment before it wavered. She paused, a breath caught in her throat, the weight of her next words heavy on her tongue.

“You just killed him,” she managed to choke out, the words catching in her throat, each syllable a struggle as they forced their way past her lips.

“What did you just say?” His brows knitted in confusion as he circled around the chair to face her, a flicker of curiosity or suspicion crossing his face.

She swallowed, her voice quieter now, “My boss. You killed my boss,” she gestured with her head towards the body on the floor

He turned around to look at the body, raising his eyebrows before letting out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” he said, walking behind her again. “You’re funny. I like that.” Slowly, he loosened the ropes binding her, releasing her. She didn't move from her spot, still in shock.

“Why are you still sitting there? You have a chance now—grab the gun, shoot me, and leave through that door. That’s what you want, right?” he smirked from across the room, his voice taunting yet disturbingly calm.

Her eyes flicked to the revolver on the table. She could grab it, end this madness, and escape. But her body refused to move. Fear paralyzed her, rooting her to the spot. She couldn’t do it.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her silence. “What’s the matter? Got cold feet? Or maybe…” His smirk deepened as his eyes glinted with amusement. “Maybe you just don’t want to hurt me?”

She stared down at the floor, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” He pulled that fake pouty face again, the one that made her skin crawl. “Don’t tell me you like me now.”

Her head snapped up to glare at him, only for her breath to hitch as he reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone. He held it up, wiggling it in front of her with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

Her breath hitched, and instinctively, she rose from the chair, her legs weak as she took a hesitant step toward him.

“Why did you take my phone?” she demanded, frustration mingling with fear as she stopped herself just short of him, unwilling to risk closing the distance completely.

“Now we’re talking,” he smirked, tilting the phone to show her the screen. It was unlocked. He tapped it casually, playing a video. Her blood ran cold as she recognized the scene: the park, the homeless people, and him stomping on the bread in a fit of rage. Her laughter echoed faintly in the background, cruel and unthinking, mingling with the sounds of the moment.

“You found this funny, huh?” he said, his tone deceptively calm, but his eyes glittered with something darker. He watched the video for a moment longer, then pocketed the phone with a slow, deliberate motion.

“I hate gamblers,” he began, his voice taking on an icy edge as he paced a few steps away from her. “I hate this trash of people who leech off society and give nothing in return. And do you know what really made me lose my mind?” He stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his eyes held an icy stare that showed subtle signs of disgust and anger.

“Even when they’re starving, living in the gutter, with nothing to their name, they’ll still choose to gamble. Still choose greed over survival. They disgust me.”

She shrank back, pressing herself against the wall as her pulse roared in her ears. Her fear was palpable now, a crushing weight that made her legs feel like they would give out at any moment. She wanted to respond, to say something, anything, but her throat felt like it had closed up, trapping the words inside.

“And the worst of it all...” he paused, taking a closer step to her, "is that they are willing to play games, sacrificing lives of everyone around them, including themselves, only for their greed.”, the predatory grace of his movements sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through her.

“So, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft now, almost a whisper, “It’s interesting, isn’t it? Now you know the reason for my reaction.” Her breath hitched again, her chest rising and falling rapidly as panic clawed at her. He was inches away now, close enough that she could see the droplets of dried blood splattered across his face and his white collar, smell the faint tang of his cologne.

“Not so funny now, is it?”, he leaned in, his face so close to hers that their foreheads nearly touched. “No. Because now...”, he paused, “your mind is racing with the thoughts of what I’m going to do with you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling as she tried to force herself away from the moment, away from his piercing gaze and the cruel smirk that played on his lips.

“Did I guess it right?”, he asked caging her in with his arms on either side of her, his palms flat against the wall. “I’ll give you two options.”, he continued lifting two fingers in front of her face.

“Option one: you join me. Do everything I say. Be my obedient little puppy.”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Option two: you leave. Try your luck. But if I catch you—and trust me, sweetheart, I will— let’s just say I won’t be as generous with you as I am right now.”

Her chest was rising and falling heavily as she stared into his eyes, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” His lips brushed the air between them, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her heart racing. Heat rose to her cheeks, the proximity doing strange things to her resolve. Fear mingled with something she refused to acknowledge—something electric, undeniable.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she said weakly, her voice trembling.

His grip on her jaw was firm as he tilted her face up to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You don’t get to decide what I call you, sweetheart. Now, answer the question.”

She remained silent, her lips parted but no words coming out. Her mind raced, weighing her options. Every logical thought told her to choose freedom, but the dark glint in his eyes made it clear—no matter what she chose, she wouldn’t truly be free.

“Yes,” she managed to choke out.

“Yes what?” he pressed, his grip tightening around her.

“I’ll join you,” she murmured, her words barely coherent.

“Good girl,” he praised, flicking his tongue over her bottom lip with a devilish grin spreading across his face. She exhaled shakily, barely holding her composure. His hand traveled to the back of her neck, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling it back sharply.

He moved away from her, yanking her by the hair to throw her roughly onto the floor. She let out a surprised gasp, but before she could process what was happening, he was on her again. Skillfully, he tied her wrists behind her back and gagged her mouth once more.

With one hand around her upper arm, he pulled her up as if she weighed nothing.

“On your feet, sweetheart,” he commanded, pulling her to stand, but her legs were wobbly, trembling from adrenaline and the aftershocks of his erratic mood swings.

“Aren’t you prettier like this, hm?” he asked, looking at her with an admiring smile that was clearly feigned. The insanity in his eyes was unmistakable. He grazed his fingers over Y/n’s cheek; she flinched at his touch, turning her head away.

“Tsk. Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, his face showing mock disappointment as he dragged her towards the door. “I thought we agreed on this.”

He dragged her outside, briefcase in one hand, leading her with the other. They entered a van that drove them far away into the dark.

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game x reader #squid game gong yoo #squid game fanfic #squid game imagine #the salesman #the recruiter squid game #the recruiter x reader #the salesman fanfic #squid game fanficition

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wtfaniii · 2 months ago

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CAN I PRETTY PLEASSSEEE request more child! Reader with squid games caretakers😿. The one I read a bit back was super comforting and I highkey want more💔

Squid game male characters x little girl reader

Ok I see that you liked this dynamic and it's good, it also helps my inner child so I bring you more, and here I will put writings of the characters in the first and second seasons ♡

If you want me to do it with the female characters, let me know!

master list!

> Seong Gi-hun

With him the tea parties were never boring

He always made you laugh and made sure you had fun even when your mother looked at him sternly for being with you longer than he should, now you won't finish the schoolwork.

He wasn't a good father, admitted it, but at least he tried and this time he didn't make the same mistake as did with your little sister.

—I think the princess would love to have more tea! —He said in a squeaky voice moving your toy doll as if she was the one talking.

You laughed and served him more with a fine movement, you loved the few moments spent with your father.

But you also noticed the tension that your father and mother had every time he came home and that was something that you didn't like, you were small but not ignorant, you could see that something was wrong between them, you just didn't know what it was about and that led you to commit some pranks that in your mind seemed innocent.

Like, for example, sneaking out of school to go see him, at first he would congratulate you for being so smart but then he would scold you for putting yourself at that risk.

—I like that you come to see me but don't do it this way, your mother would kill me —He said taking your hand as both walked through the subway to take the train back to school.

—She doesn't mind —You said with an innocent smile —besides, she's busy organizing the move.

—¿Moving? ¿Where are they going to move?

You raised your shoulders without having an answer, neither your mother nor your stepfather wanted to tell and that activated an alert in Gi-hun's head, after taking you to school again was when he found that strange and mysterious man with the briefcase and after that day your father was never the same.

He only wanted the best for you and your little sister and if he had to stay away to protect you that's what he would do.

> Cho Sang-Woo

Walking on his shoulders was the best, you felt like you could see everything from above and you liked hugging him by the neck from time to time.

It was curious how you were the only one who could see him smile genuinely, at first he felt scared when received the news that he was going to be a father, he wasn't going to lie, considered leaving you with your mother and sending money every month but now he couldn't see himself in a world without you.

—¿Do you want vanilla or strawberry ice cream? —him asked you as I walked towards the ice cream stand.

—¡Strawberry! —You responded happily while pulling his hair a little like that chef mouse used to do in the movie you liked so much.

He let out a low chuckle and walked towards it but stopped short when he saw a group of men that he instantly recognized walking casually down the sidewalk, they still didn't see Sang-woo but he was sure that if they did there would be problems because of his money problems.

He immediately put you on the ground and walked back the way came from, you looked at him in confusion, but before asking a question he entered a store without letting go of your hand.

—¿And the ice cream?

Your question caught his attention and he took his attentive gaze away from the door.

He formed the best smile could and told you that better choose some candy from there, you excitedly did so, ignoring the tension on his part and after a few minutes fortunately those bullies continued walking without seeing them, Sang-woo was able to release the air trapped in his lungs and returned to you.

After paying for the chocolates you took, both left the store and continued walking back home until Sang-woo met the recruiter.

The recruiter filled him with promises of a stable and secure future for you, a future where he wasn't constantly worried about your safety or whether he had enough money to buy the things you wanted.

He left you in the care of your grandmother and entered the games, it didn't matter what he had to do or the traitorous murderer he would become, he promised to come home and would do that.

> Hwang Jun-ho

No matter what he did, you did exactly the same thing whether it was something common or something dangerous.

¿Was he preparing to have cereal for breakfast? You did it too, ¿did he accidentally spill milk on the table? You also dropped it just to copy it.

You saw him as a hero and bragged at school that your father was a police officer to the point where they bullied you for even listening to it, something you didn't care about because you were still proud to say it.

People used to tell Jun-ho that you were a mini copy of him and that made him smile, because it was true and he was proud of it but also a little terrified of the trouble you were going to get into as you grew up.

He would drop you off at school every morning to make sure brought your breakfast and were well combed and clean, sometimes he struggled with your hair because being a single father he had to resort to video tutorials on the internet but you were always happy with the result.

—If you can't open your water bottle, ask the teacher for help —Your father said as you got out of the car.

—¡Yes daddy! —With your backpack carried on the shoulder and stumbling you ran towards the entrance of the school before they closed, it was already late and there was little tolerance and the teacher at the entrance let you know with an expression of disgust when she saw you.

You apologized with a slight bow and the teacher scolded you, she was already telling you about your punishment when suddenly Jun-ho sounded the sirens of his patrol car to get the teacher's attention.

Your father was still sitting inside the vehicle, only this time showing his best smile and waving at her with one hand.

The woman immediately changed her posture, gave your father a flirtatious smile and gently pushed you into the school, telling you that this was the only exception.

Jun-ho knew how to use his charms and he would use them as long as it was to save you from a school punishment or for them to make exceptions like this.

both had an excellent father-daughter relationship, however, when he went to that island to look for In-ho and then he was found in the water, those were the worst days of your short life. During the time he was in a coma, you slept next to him and your grandmother had to take you off of him by order of the nurses.

The good thing about that is that when Jun-ho opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was your body pressed against his like a little koala looking for comfort.

You were a real daddy's girl.

> Ali Abdul

Due to your nationality you were excluded at school, you didn't care much since the encouraging words of your mother and father always echoed in your head but when you started learning magic tricks to impress your classmates the teasing got worse.

Now you were in the back of your house trying to learn a card magic trick while holding back tears, you didn't want to worry your family, your father was constantly working and your mother was busy taking care of newborn brother.

You knew your family was going through a hard time so tried to make as little noise as possible.

You placed a six diamond card in your left hand and shuffled the other cards with your right hand, you made a quick movement of your hands and the card managed to appear right in the middle of the others

—Taraaaa... —you said without much encouragement despite your successful result.

Suddenly you heard a joyful applause and turned your head as saw your father coming out of the house looking at you with pride.

—¡That was fantastic princess!

—¿Oh really? ¡Thank you! —You said more excited than before, rearranging the cards in your hands to do the trick.

—It would be an honor to see a great magician do her show.

Despite being absent from you most of the day, he loved you and always reminded you by telling you or just paying you a lot of attention, even if it was only for a short time.

He knew that they bullied you for being different from others, he also suffered that discrimination but he tried to make you feel better every day.

For the next two hours he was attentive to every magic trick you taught him and applauded with pride and surprise every time you finished successfully, may have had no money and social status was horrible but were a united family and that was all that mattered.

He entered the games to help his family move forward, he spent each one thinking about you, your mother and your brother, family was his motivation and in fact, thanks to you he was saved in the game of marbles.

"Nothing is what it seems"

You said at the end of each act of magic and for some reason he remembered the phrase when he was about to fully trust Sang-woo, he didn't and just as you played with illusions and cards, he played with distraction and marbles.

> Hwang In-ho

He is not an excellent father, his work and the hard life he led consumed him as a human, but at the end of the day he always made sure to come to your room to read you a bedtime story, turn on the night light so you wouldn't be afraid of the dark, and stay by your side until you fell asleep.

You were a small lotus flower growing in a minefield, he disliked it but it was the only way to have you by his side, he affectionately called you "little sun" because you illuminated his life among so much death and darkness.

—...And then the circle did this for me —You finished narrating your day while showing him a paper flower that a guard with the circle figure impregnated on his mask had made for you.

—it's very pretty —He said after turning on the light to sleep and sitting next to you on the bed.

He was busy most of the day so he asked the guards to take care of you, a wonder for you and a danger for them because if he noticed a single unhealed scratch on your body he would make sure that the guard who didn't take good care of you would pay the consequences.

—It's time to go to sleep.

In-ho covered you with the blanket and placed a kiss on your forehead while humming a sweet melody that your mother loved.

You pretended to fall asleep and he left the room, usually you were obedient to his every rule but this time would be different.

This occasion was special.

You put on your bunny slippers and left the room wearing your duck pajamas, one of the square guards saw you on the screen but with just two buttons he changed the image to prevent the frontman from seeing you.

You walked cautiously until a triangular guard found you and guided you to a huge room with a childlike atmosphere, a blue sky painted all over the wall with white clouds and rainbows decorating it.

He gave you a radio and you spoke to all the circular workers to start your big plan.

You were a very smart and nice girl so you managed to convince everyone to help you organize a surprise birthday party for your father.

Placed balloons of all colors, confetti bombs everywhere and they made you a cake just as you requested, a large cake with a badly made figure of the frontman on top.

The next morning the mere image of seeing your father wearing his dark gray suit and his trademark mask in the middle of the playground with lots of colorful confetti falling on him and shouts of "Congratulations" from all the workers was enough to make you laugh.

In-ho was on the verge of a breakdown, there was a lot of work to do and you had distracted all his employees with this but he immediately calmed his fury when he saw you smiling like that.

That day was something unusual on the island, all the masked men received a slice of cake and saw their leader, the most firm, severe and imposing man open birthday gifts with his little daughter by his side, that day was an exception and there were no scoldings for helping you.

Now everyone was sure of one thing, you were his great weakness and if something happened to you the frontman would have no mercy on the world.

> The Salesman

The night passed calmly, the boring and monotonous atmosphere of the luxurious house in which you lived was about to consume you when you heard the main gate open, you quickly left your room, ran downstairs and saw your father, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

—¿What is the reason for this reception? —He asked you curiously as he placed his briefcase on the floor.

—¡I'm bored!

He looked at you in silence and tilted his head a little at the same time as he crouched down to be at your level.

—¿And what do you want to do? —He asked you even though he already knew your answer.

You had inherited his love for random games, where you didn't know if you would be the next to lose or win, so that was a hobby shared as father and daughter.

—¡Poker! —You said enthusiastically, forming a malicious closed-lipped smile on your mouth as you pulled a set of cards out of your pocket.

He couldn't be more proud, he was molding you into his shape and likeness which wasn't good but not all bad either, when you grow up you will have many freedoms and privileges in exchange for offering desperate people an unreliable opportunity, it wasn't an honest job but at least that way you wouldn't live like he did in his childhood, without a penny to eat.

After you explained the rules, prizes and conditions began to play, you won every time and as a reward he gave you one of your favorite chocolates, a more than special prize considering how strict he was regarding your bedtime.

Until in a bad game you lost, causing a small laugh to come out of your father's mouth.

—Looks like your luck has run out —He said leaning forward and without erasing his malicious smile.

You looked at him with half-closed eyes and before you knew it he lifted you off the ground and started to make you ribs without mercy.

You yelled at him between laughs to stop but he ignored it, despite being who the salesman was, he was more than happy to share a bit of his vile reality disguised as a childish act with you.

—Now to sleep —He said seriously once again, walking up the stairs to your room without letting you go —Tomorrow you have ballet classes and violin rehearsal, if you arrive sleepy you won't be able to do it.

—¡It's not fair! —you said with a pout as he placed you on the bed.

—Ah, princess, in life nothing is fair —he murmured, leaning down to leave a fatherly kiss on your head.

He was a heartless and sadistic man who loved the life and work he led but also loved being with you, he just hoped that when you grew up you wouldn't oppose his ideals or else he would have to get rid of you.

> Park Gyeong-seok

You were daddy's princess, while he was doing his paintings in the park you were next to him blowing bubbles and talking about random topics non-stop.

He laughed occasionally at what you said and responded to you but his eyes were still on his work, it was exhausting having to take care of you and your ill sister but there was no better reward than a hug from his two daughters at the end of a long day of work.

—¡Daddy can I go see the parade! —You said excitedly, pointing to the parade of motley that was passing by and handing out candy,

He hesitated for a few seconds, he didn't want to let you go alone and although it was a family environment there were always some risks.

—Fine but take your sister —He responded with a soft smile, you jumped with excitement and ran to your little sister to take her hand and quickly go to the parade.

Na-yeon and you went through all the people stealthily until reached the front where the animal motley were passing by and handing out candy. You jumped once again to get the attention of one of them and they gave you two pieces of candy for you and your sister.

The two continued watching the parade with a smile and curiosity until you were distracted by a clown who made you a dog made of a balloon, you didn't realize how long you were talking and laughing with that man until your father suddenly arrived and picked you up from the ground.

Gyeong-seok looked at the clown distrust and scolded you for your recklessness,

—I told you to take care of your sister, you should not talk to strangers ¿And what have I told you about staying away from me too much?

The minutes he spent anxiously looking for you were torture, when he found your sister in the dressing room with the motley, he immediately noticed your absence and his poor heart almost suffered an attack, he didn't know what he would do if something happened to you or Na-yeon.

—Sorry... —You murmur with tears in your eyes as you still see traces of his previous despair.

He hugged you tightly and turned around to return to his position where he had previously left your sister, he caressed your hair and gave you a kiss on the cheek as an apology for his reaction but you couldn't blame him, you were his world and he would lose his sanity without you.

After your sister's medical situation worsened and she was admitted to the hospital, things got a little complicated, your father knew that he had to find money to pay for her treatment and he would do whatever was necessary, even if that meant having to leave his two daughters in the care of the hospital.

—I don't want to be alone —You said with a pout on your lips and your arms crossed, although more than upset you were scared of having to go through this situation alone.

—I know princess but I need your help for this ¿Can I count on you? —He left a kiss on your forehead and took your hands to join them with his.

Receiving the news that he would have to be away for a few days distressed you a little, your mother died and you didn't want to lose him too.

He didn't want to leave them either, but that man with the briefcase offered him a great opportunity and hope that he couldn't let go.

—You are my brave girl ¿right? It will only be a few days and when I return I promise that everything will be better for us —He had no other option so he said goodbye to you with a promise that, by the way, he didn't know if he would be able to keep.

> The Masked Officer (Park Hee-soon)

Your father was a firm, authoritarian and even a little insensitive man.

Quite the opposite of you, you were an energetic and colorful ray of sunshine.

Letting you accompany him to the island was not the best decision, not because you didn't know how to behave, but because you were like a whirlpool among all the employees and guards, playing and ignoring the real reason why everyone was there.

Occasionally he would find a toy lying in the hallways and his office, naturally painted black with a small lamp next to the bed, was now full of stuffed animals and other things that you had put in the suitcase before leaving the house.

—¿Did you like how I decorated the room? —You asked happily with a wide smile on your face.

He looked at you in silence while pinching the bridge of his nose regretfully, it had been a long day at work, with the frontman infiltrating the games and him in charge being a complete burden but he could handle it, what he couldn't handle was you and your hyperactivity.

—Yeah... —He growled, taking off his black suit as he walked to the bed so could sleep, he was too tired to deal with you now but as soon as his body touched the bed you jumped on top of him, completely knocking the air out of him.

—¡I'm not tired yet! ¿Can we play something? ¡I see I see! —You suggested, jumping next to him on the bed excitedly.

—¿What do you see? —He murmured tiredly but playing along until an idea came to his mind —Hey, ¿why don't you go to the third floor and go to the eleven room to play? I'm sure she would be happy to do it.

You quickly ran to where he had told you and as soon as you left the room he grabbed the radio and spoke to eleven.

—My daughter is going there, be good and play with her until she falls asleep.

It wasn't a request for a favor, it was an order and even though eleven was also tired, she had no choice but to play with you until you fell fast asleep in her bed.

Anyway, most of the guards and employees there had a little affection for you.

> Lee Myung-gi

Now, he doesn't have the slightest idea how to take care of you.

He was still young and it wasn't in his plans to become father but now here you were, in to his computer playing video games.

—It's late and you have school tomorrow —He told you with a tired sigh, he didn't know what to do to convince you to go to sleep because when you stayed up until the wee hours of the morning it was quite a challenge to deal with you.

You ignored him and continued playing, you didn't take him seriously because he was very soft on you due to the little experience he had, also your mother's abandonment was another problem to deal with.

—Come on, you must go to sleep —He insisted for the second time, approaching you shuffling his feet, he was physically and mentally exhausted.

Another problem, now he had lost all his monetary income and several people were looking for him for fraud, it was a nightmare.

—No —you said flatly, turning to show him your tongue in a rude childish gesture.

Myung-gi sighed and left you at the computer to go to his bed to sleep, however as soon as you saw him close the door you heard him curse and... ¿Sob?

You took off your headphones and gently turned to look at the bedroom door, where you could swear he was crying.

You twisted your lips and stood up, your bare feet making contact with the floor and you crept towards the bathroom to brush your teeth and comb your hair.

After doing your little routine before going to sleep, you passed by your father's room, you stopped and thought about whether it was best to go in to see how he was or go straight to bed.

He didn't have the best family bond with you, you disobeyed him and he didn't seem to care but this time it was different, you didn't know all the problems he was going through and your behavior and rejection had been the icing on the cake.

You opened the door gently and saw him lying face down on the bed with the pillow on his face, you approached and he felt your presence so he turned to see you.

It wasn't his best year, he had lost a lot of money, all kinds of people were practically hunting him for him to give them back what they lost, he accidentally got his girlfriend pregnant and left her without telling her anything, your mother left him to his fate with you and you... another unplanned daughter that made his days more difficult.

He was overwhelmed and now lay red-eyed and full of tears on the bed.

—¿Can you read me a bedtime story? —You asked cautiously, playing with your fingers.

—I'm not in the mood... —He whispered, shrinking further into the bed.

You left the room in silence, he thought you had gone to sleep or play but after a few minutes you returned with a hot chocolate that you had prepared yourself and a children's story trapped in your arms.

You gestured for him to move aside and he did, you placed the cup of chocolate on the nightstand and lay down next to him.

—Once upon a time there was a soldier in shining armor... —You started reading the story for him.

Myung-gi was going through the worst time of his life but just for tonight, with you reading him a story and giving him a hot drink he felt better, he as a father was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around, but this nice act on your part felt like a big hug to his ugly loneliness.

He fell asleep when you finished the story, you covered him with the blanket and went straight to your room to sleep, it would be a difficult path to walk but for now you had each other, had to adapt, besides, internally both had some affection for each other.

That's why when he entered the games he took a photo of you with him, the guards took it from him when they put him to sleep but it doesn't matter, you would be a great reason to get out of there alive.

> Choi Su-bong // Thanos

He used to call you "My serotonin" because you were one of the sources of his happiness, a drug that came into his life by surprise and he had no intention of leaving.

As a father he wasn't the best of all but at least he tried, he let you dye your hair whatever color you wanted despite your young age and he bought you anything you asked for.

In your eyes he was the best father in the world but to the rest of the world he was the worst and most irresponsible.

—Fuck those idiots, you had fun, ¿right? —He said, throwing the newspaper with the headline "rapper leaves his little daughter forgotten in a club in the middle of the night" to the other side of the room.

You nodded happily as you took a sip of your apple juice.

—Besides, this is also partly your fault, I told you not to get away from me —He told you, pointing a finger at you accusingly.

He looked at you carefully, your colorful hair and your poorly painted nails of the same color were what stood out the most about your outfit, you were like a smaller version of him so he must have gotten the idea that the rules were not going to work for you.

—Anyway, let's go have breakfast ¿what do you want?

—¡Hot cakes with chocolate chips! —You shouted euphorically, raising your arms, Breakfast was the best part of the day.

—¡You read my mind darling!

With a carefree attitude he walked towards the kitchen with you following him like a baby duck would follow its mother, he wasn't the best example but you were more than proud to follow him.

You and him together were a mess but were more than happy, of course, when he lost all his money it was a problem to deal with but with you things were more fun.

And to think that at first he thought of leaving you in an orphanage, now you were his greatest confidant and official leader of his fan club.

In addition to your carefree and hyperactive behavior, you also inherited him taste for art, only you didn't rhyme, you had a fascination for plays, colorful costumes and extravagant makeup.

Another point that made him proud, your clothes were always colorful and full of life, you stood out from the ordinary just as he did.

Two colorful fish in a big ocean.

Okay tell me if you liked it! I missed Dae-ho but I hope to add him in future projects like this

Thanks for reading💗! And another thing, is anyone here a fan of Lee Dong-wook?

tag list¡!

@jalicecookie @annimoony

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sebsbarnes · 1 year ago

Text

co-workers || tangerine

tangerine x female reader (assassin)

summary: "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

warnings: language, violence, fighting, injuries, blood, weapons

word count: 3.4k ; angst, fluff

tangerine masterlist

rocking back and forth on your heels you patiently wait for the bullet train to zip into the shinagawa station. the platform was moderately busy, people dressed for various occasions. some in sophisticated work uniforms, kids bopping along with their school bags, and some dressed for a night out. you, however, were not.

sporting a black jacket, long sleeve turtleneck, leggings, sneakers, and a black bag you could've faded into the growing dark sky but here you are illuminated by the neon lights of the platform begrudgingly watching the bullet train's head lights fly past as it rolled into the station.

you were ordered to be here by your employer at the request of the white death. something about his son and a briefcase of money that needed some extra eyes watching over. apparently, the white death had some gut intuition about the two unnamed men he had hired for the job and wanted your skills onboard. your employer gave you very little detail about what to expect, no description of the briefcase, a grainy photo sent via email of the white death's son who had horrid face tattoos in your personal opinion, and when asked about the men already tasked to the mission your employer replied, 'eh two guys both kind of weird' and left it at that.

you boarded the train and stood near the doors, tight lipped smiling at those who walked by, waiting for the entryway to be clear. kneeling you pulled a small revolver out of a false bottom in the bag and slipped it into an inside pocket of your jacket, next pulling extra rounds and stuffing them into the other available pocket. you fumbled with a small piece of crumbled paper telling you to go to car three and a seat number that the son should be at.

quietly making your way to car three you re-patted your now stuffed pockets, adjusting your jacket and hair to relieve any sort of budding nerves. that is until you noticed the two kind of weird guys your employer told you about.

"well, can spot that fitted suit from a fuckin' city away" the two men stood in front of you who were deep in conversation snapped their necks towards you.

"well darling, and i'd spot that shit box dyed hair from the other side of the fuckin' earth" you couldn't help your arm raising to touch your long, and well dyed hair, at tangerine's rebuttal.

you tried to hide the laugh that threatened to break through as the three of you stood quiet for a few seconds following his comment. lemon broke first pushing past his brother to embrace you in a hug, "haven't see you in a minute, was beginning to get worried."

the three of you knew each other quite well, hell, the three of you lived together for a while. you had been under tangerine and lemon's employer for a long time but shit happens and it was best you found a new employer. lemon was more talkative and affectionate of the two, constantly talking your ear off and giving you hugs whenever he saw you, strictly friends though. tangerine, well, not affectionate and not talkative. it took a while for tangerine to mutter more than five words to you for the longest time. being outright friendly just isn't his nature and you can't fault him for that. the twins cared about you deeply, you knew lemon did within a week. tangerine took more time. it wasn't at the flip of a switch, it was gradual, perhaps may be even more natural.

it was a culmination of things that made you realize the rough man cared and appreciated you. like how after a job the three of you would go eat, you would jokingly (but also quite seriously) say how you were still starving. tangerine would slip you some of his food, 'not that hungry' he'd shrug. or how on missions he unconsciously used himself as a shield for your protection. or when he would come back from being out, holding a plastic bag in hand. 'saw these figured you might need 'em' plopping the bag in front of your seated position at the kitchen table and continued walking before you could comment on the new clothes that replaced the ones recently destroyed on a job.

or how days before you left the previous employer, you, tangerine, lemon, and an additional guy were assigned to a job that did not go so smoothly. it really was no one's fault, no one could've predicted how many men were hiding in the warehouse. each of you sported numerous injuries and lost many weapons but still completed the job. you and the other assassin were alone sitting on the floor when he suddenly started berating you. saying how shit you were as an assassin, spewing hatred and profanities amongst other vile things. you had no energy to fight back, 'maybe you're right' is all you could muster before getting up and searching for a secluded place to sleep for the night. you had awoken from your sleep hours later to the sound of a gunshot, wandering until you found someone.

'tangerine, what was that? i heard a gunshot' you asked the man who was promptly walking away from scaffolding towers.

he looked at you quizzically wiping his hands on his trousers, 'i think you might have been dreaming darlin'' all you could do was rub your head in confusion, 'let's get you back to bed, love.' the next morning only three of you returned from the mission.

"i've missed you, lemon," you smiled pulling away, holding his shoulders to look at him.

you and tangerine exchanged small nods, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. you turned towards the figure seated beside the men stepping to stand in front of who you assume to be the white death's son. to say something seemed off was an understatement. you gently grabbed the ends of his open jacket bobbing his head back.

"what the fuck?!" you jerked back dropping your grip as his body slumped forward. an older woman a few seats up shushed you.

"what the fuck?!" you whispered harshly at the twins, bug-eyed gesturing rapidly at the dead body in front of you.

"ask fuckin' percy over here," tangerine pointed to lemon.

"i'm not percy?! okay yeah i lost the case but i didn't kill the kid."

"well lemon, if you didn't have the brilliant fucking idea to stash the case, we would've been sat our squeaky fuckin' asses down in the seat not havin' to get up. young. sweet. not all there." tangerine hissed back, poking at lemon's forehead to emphasize.

mildly entertained by the twins infamous banter you sat down watching the two go back and forth before tangerine swiveled towards you both hands flat, palms up, pointing at you, "and no disrespect love, but why the hell are you here?"

"to babysit essentially. i'm here to make sure you two do your job and by the looks of it you done fucked that up. what an honor it will be to be ripped limb by limb by the white death with you idiots."

the three of you sat deliberating what the hell to do next and tried figuring out who else is on this train taking interest in the briefcase and the son. tangerine cleaned up the boy's face with his handkerchief and adorned his face with momonga glasses to hide the fact that he's well...dead.

the twins decided it would be effective splitting up and checking the train cars for the briefcase.

"ill stay here," you spoke as the two men grabbed their things to investigate the train.

"what?" tangerine asked eyebrows knotting together.

"i'll stay here. i'll see if anyone comes back for him," gesturing towards the limp body, "besides, my mission is a bit different. i'm not supposed to be seeking danger. if it comes my way then i can step in."

tangerine smooth out his moustache inhaling deeply seeming to oppose you being here by yourself.

"okay well, right then." lemon nodded stalking off down the train.

tangerine hesitated looking down at you in the seat.

"i'll be okay."

that is until ten minutes later a man sat across from you, "hi. there's a gun under this table."

"shhh," you hissed, "this is the quiet car babes."

the man in the hat and glasses took a moment to look over your shoulder at the sign, you took this opportunity to grab his hand, that held no gun, underneath the table yanking his body forward, table smashing into his shoulder.

"who the hell are you." you questioned, still holding onto his hand.

"ladybug. johannesburg, remember? your buddy shot me after you baited me to the parking garage?"

"so you're after the twins?" you asked ignoring what he said.

"the twins have a briefcase i need. i'm really not looking for trouble here miss, i just want to get the hell off this train and go meditate." he sighed taking his free hand through his longer hair.

"so you took the damn briefcase." you released his hand and brought your foot up to kick him in the groin. while he was hunched over in pain you stood up launching towards him to put him in a headlock, "where's the case."

"look lady," he sputtered, "i really don't want to hurt you."

ladybug punched your forearms to loosen your grip and when you didn't budge, he turned his head to bite your wrist.

"what the fuck!" you yelped springing back. he took this moment to sweep your legs out from underneath you. you hit the floor with a loud thud, the ache in your shoulder radiating down your arm. he leaned over your body giving you a weak smile and in return you kicked him in the face, blood instantly pouring out of his nose.

"shit balls!" he exclaimed. you clamored to your feet and started running throughout the bullet train. ladybug's steps got closer and closer and that's when you felt a burning hot sensation on the back of your shoulder. your movement immediately stopped, groaning as you reached for the knife in your back pulling it out.

"prick." you hissed turning around to face the man. your arm swiped in front of his face, the blade making a whooshing noise in the air. you managed to clip the side of his cheek.

thankfully the car the two of you were now fighting in was not occupied. he gripped your arm throwing you against the wall and stalked towards you. you stashed the blade in your pocket, shrugging your jacket to the ground, opting to fight him with your fists. you dodged the first hit and returned him a hit in the jaw. he staggered and taking advantage of his lower stance punched you in the stomach.

"i don't like hurting women." ladybug exasperated as the two of you continued fighting, punches being thrown, skin being split, bodies flying across the car.

"seems like you're in the wrong line of work, dumbass," you gripped the back of his head slamming his face into the top of one of the seats. the crack you heard made you wince. ladybug's forehead was split, blood running down his face into his eye.

it was obvious his physical state was weakening. he swallowed deeply, eyes flickering to a spot beyond you. before you realized what was happening, ladybug was running towards your jacket where the knife was. he managed to grab it and came barreling towards you. once again the battle was back on. the knife dancing between you two as its ownership changed frequently. you and ladybug were a panting mess with new cuts decorating your bodies. this old piece of shit wouldn't let up. you were becoming exhausted and you needed this to end somehow. the two of you were both on the floor, the blade in your hand. you knew you didn't have enough stamina for another round of fighting, the cuts scattering your body were aching, the large stab wound to your shoulder was now numb. instead, you sliced the closest things to you that would cause the most damage.

his achilles.

ladybug screamed out in pain, shaking hands wrapping themselves around his ankles in some attempt to soothe the sheering pain. you stood, looking over the man, the blood from the knife dripping onto your shoe. you stepped around his cradled body, making your way up the train. tangerine hasn't come past yet meaning he is still ahead. the door swished open but you'd only make it one step in before crumbling to the ground.

immediately you started hyperventilating from the intense pain that seemed to hit every nerve in your body. blinking rapidly as you scooted yourself against the wall. then you felt it. a warm sensation running down your skin, your clothes feeling wet. blood. your body was shaking, open lips huffed out puffs of breath. slowly and carefully, you looked back at ladybug.

your gun in his hands.

he must have grabbed it when he retrieved the knife in your abandoned jacket. fucking stupid.

ahead in the train tangerine heard a faint noise, but nonetheless he knew it was a gunshot. he slicked back his hair and removed his gun from his waistband. he carefully entered each train car, observing anything out of the ordinary. the door in front of him opened and his step faltered when he saw a black sneaker, and then a leg, and then the body as his eyes raked up the slumped figure.

he dropped to his knees, gun now on the floor, "hey tan," you croaked.

"bloody hell," he sighed, his eyes darting across your entire body.

"stop checking me out i don't look my best," you tried joking. tangerine didn't seem amused as he noticed your torn clothes, bloody face, your hair matted with blood.

"that old bag of bones can really fight. but he took a cheap shot when my back was to him," you finally answered. you lifted the hem of your shirt to show tangerine the bullet hole in your lower stomach above your hip.

"jesus," he muttered swallowing thickly. he seemed stunned to see you in this condition. he also seemed lost on what to do. his eyes wouldn't stop looking you over, his hands unconsciously went to your face brushing your hair out of your eyes.

"tangerine stop fucking staring at her we need to help her," lemon had found the two of you. his voice booming causing tangerine to snap out of his daze.

lemon pushed him to the side, immediately coming to your aid. he worked with what he could find. your shallow cuts weren't important. the wound to your shoulder would need stitches later on. the entrance and exit wound of the bullet was causing the biggest issue as you had lost a decent amount of blood from it. lemon continued to do his best as you sat there eyelids half open.

tangerine was silent, more silent than ever before, as if he were stuck in a trance. you slowly moved your fingers towards his hand that was resting on the floor. two of your fingers wrapped around his pinky jerking him out of his trance. this somehow sparked something in him as he shot up from the floor, grabbing his gun making sure it was loaded and set off on a mission you could only assume to be to find ladybug.

your lips pulled down in a frown as he left. you wanted him here. his presence, his touch, his whatever. any semblance of that cocky man you wanted next to you for comfort. you knew you were going to be okay, you were weak right now but the thought of him beside you somehow made you believe you would feel stronger.

lemon let out a soft chuckle as he finished securing cloth to your wound, "if it took you getting shot for you two to finally, maybe, realize you like each other i would've used you as target practice a long time ago."

you slapped his arm, "fuck off."

lemon and you agreed you need to rest, he helped you to sit in an empty seat, propping you against the window.

"alright, now, if anything serious happens i will text you alright. in the meantime, sit here and wait till we come get you, you hear me?" lemon demanded.

sometime had passed and you noticed less and less people on the platforms boarding the train. it was too quiet. your stomach was telling you something was off. you winced in pain as you gripped the armrest to stand up. a bit wobbly but you managed to put one foot in front of the other. as you continued you heard voices close by. the doors to one of the cars was open by bags tripping the sensors. you saw a young girl in pink standing looking scared and him. the greasy haired prick who shot you. he still had your gun in his hand pointed at someone.

tangerine.

"fuck." thankfully you held onto the knife and before he could notice you moving towards their train car you brought your arm over your head, swinging forward, releasing the knife. it lodged itself below ladybug's collarbone. he yelped out in pain stumbling a bit and that's when his finger hit the trigger.

"you bastard," tangerine hissed as the bullet hit his leg.

you took this opportunity while the men were distracted and ran towards ladybug. you propelled yourself onto him, spinning and wrapping your legs around his neck, you removed the blade from his chest and stuck it in the base of his neck.

"you don't touch him," you spit at the man as he crumbled to the ground.

the girl was long gone. now facing tangerine you noticed all the bruises and blood on him, drenched in sweat. his curly hair now laying across his forehead. his jacket long gone leaving him in a white button down that was criminally low on his chest and a vest. you couldn't help but check him out.

he started to say your name but you cut him off, hugging him tightly around his neck, knocking the wind out of him. he hesitated a moment before firming wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your hair. after a few minutes he pulled back, sliding his hands to your waist to look at you. you held onto tangerine's elbows as his eyes wandered your face.

"darlin'," he started, "i'm- i'm sorry i didn't do anything when i found ya."

you chuckled through your nose, "tan. i'm fine."

"you're injured n' i didn't do anything except fuckin' look at you." he shook his head in disgust.

"tangerine," you said firmly placing your hands on his chest, "stop. i am fine. i am okay. we all react differently to seeing our friends hurt."

"friends, " he half laughed, "you realize i don't see you as a friend."

you paused, hands loosening their grip on his arms. god, you were dumb to think you were even friends. you're coworkers, hell at this point maybe even acquaintances, its been five months since you lived with them. all you could mutter was a shaky 'oh.'

tangerine laughed, "you know love, you can really be dense sometimes."

your mouth formed an 'o' trying to figure out what to say next, "dense?"

"love, i've wanted you the moment you almost sniped my head off in vienna." tangerine chuckled, moving hair out of your face. you couldn't look at him instead you toyed with his open shirt, fingers brushing against his hot skin.

"i guess i am kinda dumb right? should've put the pieces together when you killed anyone who was mean to me." you smiled.

he leaned down gently placing a kiss on your lips. you immediately kissed back, tasting the metallic flavor of the blood that was on his lower lip. your nails ran across his scalp sending a shiver down his spine. tangerine gripped your lower back harder, minding the wound, to bring you in as close as physically possible.

tangerine pulled away from the kiss, bringing his mouth to your ear, "by the way darlin', you spinning around on his neck and what you said was really hot."

"then i suggest we get the fuck off this train soon and i'll show you the move personally."

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divadepreshawn · 22 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

Summary: A case brings the past back

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

The team was gathered for the briefing, a somewhat complex case because it involved important people, the suspect was targeting specific people, guards, lawyers and judges.

Hotch enters the room and sits next to Rossi “Garcia, what do we have?”

“Two guards and a lawyer were killed with a point-blank shot in a 5-day interval, a judge was attacked but survived, he is in the hospital recovering from surgery” She hands a folder to each of them.

“He doesn't seem to enjoy it, he's not an exhibitionist” Emily comments analyzing the photo of the crime scene.

“And he's not even targeting the number of victims, he has a specific target” Reid points to the name of the place where the lawyer was killed “This place is busy, he could have killed more than twenty people, but he didn't”

Morgan flips through the files “He's targeting authority figures, maybe a resentful ex-colleague or ex-inmate, any suspects?”

“The victims’ families don’t know if they had enemies. As for former inmates, the list is huge. About 1.46 million people have been arrested in the last 5 years in the United States, and only ⅓ of them were for minor crimes. About 10,345 people were released after their unjust imprisonment was confirmed,” Garcia says as he shows a slide with the data.

“Given the way the victims are killed, I believe it’s revenge. We should focus on unjust imprisonment.” Rossi thinks for a moment. “Do we know anything else?”

“Of the 10,345 people unjustly imprisoned, 2,300 people were released three weeks before the murders began. Of those 2,300, 1,000 people were imprisoned due to psychiatric reports. The families all went to the same company. It redid all the reports and proved that they were forged.”

“Which company?” Hotch asks, looking up from the report.

Garcia hands him a sheet of paper “Themis, it’s a multidisciplinary company, lawyers, psychologists and psychiatrists work there. After they close the case, the names of those involved are omitted from the database.”

Rossi nods “I’ve heard of this company, they’ve worked on important cases, the big judges and the best law firms only work with them, they also provide advice to some lawyers.”

Reid closes the report “I read some articles by the founder about the State×mental health, she has really interesting points about the way society views crimes and how our morals affect judgment.”

Hotch looks at Spencer, confused “Founder?”

“Yes, there aren’t many pictures of her on the internet, but she wrote many articles. She said that society fails to spread information about mental disorders and that the State also fails to consider this when judging cases. She founded this company so that everyone could have access to legal assistance when it comes to mental disorders. Which fits with the name of the company, since Themis is the goddess of law in Greek mythology. Daughter of Uranus and Gaia, the deity was the guardian of men’s oaths and the law. She was often invoked in trials, which is why she was often seen as the goddess of justice-”

Morgan touches Spencer’s arm, a silent and gentle warning that he was rambling. Spencer stops talking, mumbling a small apology.

“Okay, JJ and Rossi are going to the hospital to talk to the judge, Morgan and Prentiss are going to the crime scene, Reid and I are going to the company to see if we can get the list without needing a warrant, we leave in thirty minutes.” Hotch closes the report and puts it in his briefcase before leaving the room.

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Being a successful woman had its price, a very high price to be honest, you worked so hard to have your space and be respected in a sea of men. In the beginning it wasn't easy, you worked to your limit, for renowned lawyers, judges, big law firms, at the same time you continued studying and doing research to improve yourself and be able to open your own company.

You were analyzing a report when Ella, your assistant, entered your office.

"Y/N?" She asked hesitantly

"Yes?" you hummed in response without looking away from the computer.

"Don't freak out now but there are two FBI agents wanting to talk to you"

Ok, now you were paying attention, you stop what you were doing and look at her, your head starts to go over your whole life, did you forget to file your income tax? Did someone in your family get arrested? Oh my god, did you kill someone and you don't remember?

"To me? Did I do something?" you ask panicking.

She looks at you confused “I don’t know, did you?”

“No,” you shake your head as you stand up “Did you do something?”

“What? I didn’t!” She shakes her head with wide eyes.

You sigh trying to calm yourself down “I’m going now.”

You head towards the mirror in the corner of the room, fixing your skirt and hair slightly. If you’re going to get arrested, you should at least look nice.

As you leave the room, you can see Ella talking to two men. They have their backs to you. You glance between them quickly. One of them has a sweater over his shirt. That’s cute, you think. Your gaze turns to the other. He’s wearing a suit, and he looks expensive from the way the fabric hangs on his body.

“What do I owe you for the honor of your visit-” you stop talking abruptly when your eyes land on them and you recognize one of them.

“Aaron? Aaron Hotchner?” You smile. What were the chances?

He frowns for a moment as he studies you, his eyes lingering on your sun-shaped necklace, you can see the understanding dawning in his eyes.

“Y/N?” He asks in surprise

You laugh as you nod, who would have thought you would end up bumping into your ex-boyfriend from college.

You were serious, you dated for practically four years of college. You fell in love with him because, well, he was gorgeous, smart and funny, a stark contrast to the scowling man you saw a minute ago. But to be fair he looked even more handsome now, God is that fair?

You can see a slight smile playing on his lips, though it soon returns to its previous expression.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you, how are you?” He asks softly.

You smile “I’m fine, how have you been? The last time I heard from you you were still a lawyer”

“I think I make more of a difference in the FBI” he shrugs not looking away from yours.

Yes, you know, he is the most selfless person you have ever met.

You nod, holding his gaze.

“Uh-huh,” the man next to him cleared his throat, catching his attention. “Do you know each other?” He looked confused.

You and Aaron exchange a brief look, you let him answer.

“We met in college” your tone was firm, not leaving room for questions.

Auth, just acquaintances? That hurt. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Oh sorry, I’m Y/N” you offer a soft smile.

“Cough the CEO” Ella says while faking a cough.

You scold her with your gaze turning to them.

“I’m Dr. Reid” he has a shy smile on his lips “I’ve read many of your articles on Psychology in the legal world, the one of yours about the death penalty is really interesting, I guess I never thought about it from that angle, you did a good job with the humanization of the victim. And the name of the company? Really great idea, Themis? Although I think you could call it Athena too-” Hotch lightly pats your arm.

“Spencer”

He stops talking, blushing slightly and mumbling “sorry”.

You smile gently at him “It’s okay, I’m glad someone understood the meaning behind the name.”

He gives a slight nod, looking more relaxed.

“So, why are you here?” You ask curiously, looking between them.

Hotch hands you a folder with three photos.

“We have a murder case and we believe it may be a revenge-motivated crime, we need the list of the 1,000 you helped free. Do you know any of them?”

You look at the photos but don’t recognize any of them. “I don’t know them, I wish I could help but I can’t give out my clients’ information.”

He sighs, taking the folder when you hold it out to him “Y/N, this is serious, I understand that there is ethical confidentiality but if you don’t help more people will get hurt”

Would you be a really bad person if you admitted that you didn’t pay attention to what he said? God, why did he look so attractive? Was it his clothes, his hair, his tone of voice, or the lines on his face? Maybe it was all of them-

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” He scans your face for a sign that you understand the gravity of the situation.

“I..” you sigh “Ella?”

“Yes?” She stands up from her desk.

“Give Dr. Reid the information he needs.” She nods, guiding Spencer to her desk.

Hotch gives Spencer a slight nod for her to go with Ella, and then turns his gaze back to you.

“Thank you, that really will help.” He crosses his arms.

Your gaze immediately drops to your arms.

Why did you break up again?

“No problem.” You give him a toothless smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too.” He hesitates for a moment. “I’m… sorry about the way things ended. I was an idiot.”

Oh, yes, you just remembered why you broke up.

You loved him, but you had learned that love alone wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship. It took understanding, effort, and reciprocity. You knew that Aaron had difficulty expressing his feelings, a reflection of the traumas he carried since childhood. You tried to be patient, to fill the gaps with gestures and unspoken words, but in the end, you felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone.

But that’s in the past. You were in your twenties. What did you really know about relationships? You’ve gotten over it.

He hesitates for a moment, looking down at his shoe. “I wish I could go back and fix things.”

Your heart skipped a beat. What is he trying to insinuate?

He turns his gaze to you “I know I shouldn’t ask you this but, would you like to go out on Saturday? I know a coffee shop near downtown that has that sweet bread you liked.”

Your heart melts, he still remembers.

Maybe it’s worth the risk.

You smile “I’d love to actually.”

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#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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erodasfishtacos · 1 month ago

Text

It’s Like I Paid For It (I’m Gonna Pay For This) (Sugar!baby)

prompt: part II of sugar!baby

word count: 8.5k+ warnings: mentions of trauma, nightmares, and men objectifying women.

||part one||

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

There are 7 more parts up of this collection & still being written

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 400+ pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

first fifteen to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month<3

enjoy 💕

+ There is a brief moment where YN wants to pull up her phone and order another Uber to take her right back home.

Harry tries to steady his facial features but it’s difficult with the shock that must be wracking through his body at this point.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since YN had told him to go fuck himself and that she didn’t need his money.

And now she was here, for his money, in the sickest turn of events.

There’s a man who exits behind Harry, with a briefcase and backpack on, who looks to possibly be his assistant that would be coming along on the trip.

YN already signed the contract.

It would be sitting on her boss’ desk already or even filed away neatly by this point.

She would one-hundred percent lose her job as a sugar baby with this company if she bailed on such a high-paying opportunity which she shouldn’t turn down for her own financial benefit either.

YN decided then and there that she can suck it up for three days.

She would be lying if she hadn’t been thinking about last night all day while she was getting ready for this trip, that her mind hadn’t kept drifting to when he was helping her move in his lap.

Then it quickly morphed into something that churned her stomach, that ugly feeling of waking up to coldness, to being rushed out like she was disposable and that the sex meant nothing.

YN had never felt a connection like that physically and emotionally during sex, even with past relationships.

Before she had fallen asleep that night, Harry had kissed lightly along her shoulders as he spooned her - that maybe it could turn into something more.

His attractiveness was no less startling the second time they met.

He was in the same suit that YN had seen him changing into that very morning with his hair much more neatly styled than when she had been running her fingers through it.

He was powerful, it was obvious in the way that he held himself, and showed-off the broadness of his shoulders, the muscle of his chest, he knew he was handsome.

YN, however, knew what she had to offer as well - looks wise.

She had come dressed in a comfy, yet expensive co-ord, for the long plane ride - a pair of loose sweatpants and a ribbed bralette, a fluffy jacket on to avoid the harsh winds of the winter weather.

Her hair was up in a tight, high ponytail that helped show off her best features, light makeup, and an overall appearance that it took little effort to make her look as good as she did.

YN doesn’t realize how hard she’s digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand until her hand starts throbbing at the pressure and she takes a deep breath to steady herself.

She puts on her most award-winning smile before walking towards Harry, who had not once taken his eyes off of her, and sticks her hand out with a smile that was a bit too sweet to be sincere.

“Mr. Styles, YN. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our time together,” YN greets professionally, trying not to let her mind wander to what exactly the fingers that wrap around her were doing last night.

His grip is too firm to be appropriate for the first time meeting, there’s a harsh squeeze almost like last night that makes his rings dig into her skin for a brief moment.

He doesn’t know what to make of the situation, that much is obvious in the way that he hesitates to respond for a moment.

Harry swallows harshly before he plasters a smile on his face, not wide enough that his dimples pop, something that had endeared YN last night when he’d throw his head back and laughed.

“Pleasure is all mine,” Harry’s deep drawl, measured and monotone.

It made her body respond in a way that she didn’t quite appreciate because it went straight back to last night when he was telling her, ‘good girl, you’re taking me so well.’

The man beside them butts in, nudging Harry to the side a bit which makes him finally let go of her hand which he had been holding at that point for too long to be socially acceptable.

Harry’s eyes are zeroed in on her, she can feel them, even as she focuses on the other man who’s shaking her hand quickly before tugging a folder out of his bag.

“Jeff, Harry’s executive personal assistant,” The man greets as he opens the folder, eyes darting over something before he’s closing it once again, “When we board, I am going to run you through Mr. Styles itinerary, your expectations, and a few other matters before we land in Milan.”

YN realizes that it’s going to be work to bite her tongue, to not make snarky remarks to show just how much she really really doesn’t want to be on this trip with this man.

And the shitty thing is, she would want to do this trip if it wasn’t for what happened earlier.

She wasn’t going to let herself sit in the wallowing of a missed opportunity at a new relationship because of getting ahead of herself over a one-night-stand.

“That sounds perfect, Jeff,” YN gives them both a dazzling smile, refusing to give away any of the actual emotion she’s feeling for the man who made her feel like garbage hours prior.

Jeff smiles back, unaware of anything that was going on, “This is Mr. Styles’ first time with a…er, uh…an escort but it was important for him to have a date for these events.”

YN bites her tongue at the wording, it was much more interesting that this is the first time that Harry had hired a service because typically the men who utilized escorts hired them quite frequently.

Harry’s stare is bordering on murderous at the back of Jeff’s head before he exhales deeply through his nose, jaw still clenched shut, enough that she can see the movement under the skin.

“Well, I hope I can make it a good experience,” YN chirps, completely turned into professional mode despite how much her mind was spinning, “I have been to many places in Italy, however not Milan, in particular, so this will be exciting.”

Jeff seems kind, albeit oblivious, a smile still on his lips as he heads towards the stairs to get up to the plane.

YN moves to follow him but Harry’s hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her, and his eyes are still adamantly on her, like he’s trying to decipher what was going on in her head.

YN blinks at him, expectantly because she doesn’t have anything nice to say at this point.

Harry purses his lips for a moment, clearly struggling to get his words out, “I thought you worked for an office supply chain based off of our initial…interaction.”

YN decides at this point that she’ll allow herself one snarky remark before putting on her mask of professionalism, “And I thought from our initial interaction that you were going to be a halfway decent human being. I guess we were both lying, weren’t we?”

With that, YN pulls her wrist from his hold which he doesn’t put up a fight with, it doesn’t seem like he even realizes that he was still holding on to her at that moment.

YN has been on a multitude of private jets before, the extravagance and awe has long since impressed her as she got comfortable in a leather recliner across from Harry and Jeff.

It was going to be a long flight to Milan and Jeff seemed extremely eager to get the formalities out of the way.

Jeff is a bit flustered, dropping a slew of papers on the ground before clumsily picking them back up, “I-I apologize, I don’t have any experience with this type of arrangement.”

YN just blinks at him, much like she did Harry, and only feels a bit bad when he blushes the shade of a fresh tomato as he organizes himself once again.

Harry looks like he wants to smack Jeff upside the back of his head, hand clenching and unclenching in fists on his knees as he tries to continue to catch YN’s gaze, which she actively avoids.

“Harry, uh, Harry here is the founder of a very successful IT start-up and is still the chief executive officer and owner of the company,” Jeff starts out with a little backstory that YN does not want to admit that she’s interested in.

“We are flying to Milan for the Information Technology Summit where Harry is a key speaker,” Jeff is still darting down to his notes like he’s worried he’ll miss something important, “He is expected at dinners each night as well as a luncheon. All the other executives will be accompanied by their significant other and it is important for Harry to have a companion to fit into the scene.”

“So that is where you come in. You don’t have to say much during these events and dinners. Keep it casual and surface level conversation about day-to-day things like vacations and shopping.”

YN rolls her eyes because she’s used to being asked to play an airhead pretty face at these events, just smile and look beautiful, a prize to show off to the others.

“Um, for your backstory of how you two met…” Jeff flips a page, “You two met at a charity dinner and have been inseparable ever since. You’ve been dating for nearly a year but have kept it on the down-low for privacy reasons.”

YN’s relieved that Jeff didn’t concoct a wild story that would have been hard for her to remember but this was simple, charity dinner, and a year of dating that was it.

“We are staying at the same hotel as most of the other speakers. Er, you are in the same hotel room, if that’s okay? Mr. Styles isn’t looking for any…uh…companionship inside of the hotel room, complete-“

“I’m going to stop you there, Jeff,” YN cuts in with a stern tone, making his eyes widen as she leans forward to look over both of them, “I do not offer ‘companionship’ in the hotel room. I’m not a fucking hooker, I am merely a date. I do not have sex with my clients for money nor elsewise. I know that was clearly stated in the contract.”

Jeff appears like he’d enjoy jumping out the window right now, despite them being thousands of feet off the ground, “I-I didn’t, I sincerely apologize for my words. I didn’t mean to imply that at all. I wasn’t assuming-“

YN puts his hand up to cut him off, getting a bit too much pleasure in saying, “No need to worry, Jeff. I will never try to sleep with Harry. I wouldn’t make that big of a mistake.”

The double meaning is clear as she finally allows her gaze to trail over to Harry, who has had a consistent death stare this whole time, and she wants to laugh when his jaw twitches at her words.

“Oh…okay,” Jeff responds, a bit thrown by how adamant she sounded but more relieved that she wasn’t still angry over the misstep, “During this vacation, everything will be paid for by Harry. Any shopping, food, anything will be covered by him during these three days. You are not expected to use your own funds during this vacation.”

YN nods in understanding, everything that he reviewed was pretty typical to every other man she’s accompanied as a date, not everyone was generous enough to offer unlimited shopping or food but YN didn’t want anything more than what she agreed to from Harry.

There’s still too much thick tension in the air between Harry and YN.

If it wasn’t irritating her, it would actually make her laugh how comically uncomfortable Jeff was by both of their behavior.

The poor man tries to ease the silence with a joke, “I know you’re probably surprised that someone like Harry needs a date. I’m sure most of the men you work with are old lonely men.”

YN smiles widely, fake and sweet, “I’m not surprised at all that he needs a date.”

Jeff’s smile falters in confusion, looking over at Harry, who hasn’t said anything during this whole exchange.

It was so different from the man that she had been with last night.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour or two after they’d fallen asleep that YN stirs, movement in the bed rousing her from the heavenly cocoon that she’d managed in the expensive duvet.

YN yawns big enough, her eyes water, blinking tiredly with nothing to see other than a dim bathroom light and Harry’s bare back, narrow hips now covered with briefs as he disappears for a minute.

She’s awake enough that she watches as Harry turns off the light after he’s finished, padding back into the room, and trying carefully not to cause much rustling as he slips back under the duvet.

“Mmm,” YN complains when he is finally settled, she was on her side facing toward him and he had turned on his side, facing towards her as he opens his eyes again when he realizes she’s awake, “You woke me’up,” YN mumbles with a bit of a slur.

Harry smiles wide enough that she can see the dimple carved out in the side of his cheek, voice soft and syrupy as he runs his thumb under her puffy eyes, “I’m sorry, darling. Still got a few more hours, go back to sleep, okay?”

“Need’a cuddle,” She rasps, spoiled and edgy, and not normally a way that she would act with a man she didn’t know but something about them felt so familiar for how short of a time they’ve known each other.

“Do you?” Harry hums playfully, he moves his legs until his ankles are wrapping around hers, intertwining their legs.

“No!” YN squeaks as she tries to squirm away, “You know your feet are cold and you put them on me!”

“Warm ‘em up for me,” Harry murmurs between laughs, strong arms coming to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, leaving her no room to escape.

“You’re cruel,” YN whines as she finally stills, allowing him to put his freezing toes on her.

“How can I apologize?” Harry asks but his voice is lower than it was before, deeper and rougher, it automatically sends a zip of arousal down her spine at the tone.

“A kiss,” YN decides after a moment of comfortable silence, it was a whisper in between them and before she asked, he was already moving closer to her - well, pulling her into his body.

“A kiss? That’s it?” Harry murmurs but his lips are already against hers, taking her bottom lip between his, moving languidly like there is no such thing as time, “I’m a bit surprised since you’ve been so greedy all night up until this point. Finally deciding to be good f’me?”

“I have been good,” YN huffs, chasing his lips when he pulls back teasingly, his hands already slipping into the underwear he had helped her put on before they fell asleep, massaging at her hips with enough strength to ache.

“Yeah, best girl I’ve ever had,” Harry agrees fondly, lips moving to her chin, then her jaw before finding her lips again, “Such a fuckin’ good girl for me. Never gon’na want you to leave my bed, darling.”

YN moans when his hand drags slowly down her mound, dipping between her folds to nudge at her clit with a light brush of his fingertips, it wasn’t enough but she wasn’t going to be patient.

“Please,” YN begs against his mouth, knowing how much he liked to hear her ask for him, “Please, Harry. I need you.”

“Need me to what?” Harry replies, distractedly as he keeps her legs from closing with a knee in between them, biting at her lip as she can’t focus on kissing.

“Fuck me,” YN gasps when he rewards her with a perfectly pressured rub, bucking her hips towards his fingers.

“That’s m’girl,” Harry rumbles in approval, quickly shoving his briefs off his body and hiking her leg up around his hip, high and a bit of stretch so that he can push into her - bodies smushed together, “God, only been an hour and I already missed being inside you.”

It had been quick, both of their stamina low from how tired they were, and in much need of a solid rest.

Harry had dragged himself out of bed once more to grab a warm cloth to wipe her down before redressing her jelly limbs, laughing as she complains about his cold hands now.

YN thinks that second time that night made it hurt that much worse when she got kicked out only hours after that.

YN was good at suppressing her feelings, bottling them up, and never telling anyone about them.

Because she would never admit that she got a bit too ahead of herself with Harry, set hopes that didn’t come true, and now her chest ached as they stared each other down.

She had to give him props though because man, he did a great job of acting himself.

He managed to make her feel safe, comfortable, and wanted when all he had needed from her was sex.

YN couldn’t tell if anger or hurt was more prevalent in her body right now, they were in pretty close competition.

And right now, she cannot get a read on him at all.

There was a small part of her that would have wished that he would have snapped back at her over the passive aggressive jabs but he doesn’t say one word about it.

Instead, he clears his throat and says, “I appreciate you doing this for me. It’s…It’s not a great feeling to have to hire a date so thank you for agreeing to come with me.”

YN knows that he’s trying to be sincere, why?

She’s not sure.

But for some reason, it makes tears prick at her eyes because he wants to talk about not great feelings?

Try being kicked out of someone’s house before the sun is even up?

Try feeling like you’ve built such a connection in such a short amount of time, only to have that person stone-cold and distant after spending the whole night in each other's arms?

He has the fucking nerve to talk about not feeling good?

Harry isn’t stupid and does seem somewhat in-tune with YN’s emotions because he definitely realized that he said that wrong thing based on the way her face shifts before she’s able to disguise it.

“That was a poor choice of words, I was just trying to-“ Harry begins to correct himself, he’s attempting to keep a business tone but it falters as he tries to apologize.

YN shakes her head, feeling absurd that she wants to cry, and tightly manages to say, “I need to use the bathroom, excuse me.”

Before she’s unclicking her belt that was still secured from takeoff and practically runs towards the bathroom of the plane.

Even though he’s lowered his voice, Jeff asks Harry, “Am I missing something? What’s going on?”

“You laid down the formalities. I will handle all matters with YN from here on out. Understood?” Harry replies, voice authoritative and more boss talking to an employee.

“Yes,” Jeff mumbles, changing the subject to a conference call topic as she gets out of earshot.

She’s locking the door behind her and taking a moment to just squeeze her eyes shut.

“What the actual fuck?” YN grits out in the empty space, staring at herself in the mirror and trying to clear the thickness in her throat, “Pull yourself the fuck together. It’s just a stupid fucking man.”

YN hides in the bathroom for longer than she’d like to acknowledge, valiantly making sure that tears don’t fall because she hadn’t worn waterproof mascara.

When YN feels like she’s stabilized herself enough, she walks back to the area of seats, kicking off her slides, and pressing the button to recline the seat.

Harry had his seat tray in front of him, a sleek laptop in front of him that he was quickly tapping away at, and his phone buzzing next to him consistently with alerts and texts.

He watches her as she comes back, eyes flickering between her and the screen in front of him, and she doesn’t understand why he keeps checking on her - like he really fucking cares or something.

Come the fuck on.

She wasn’t under any illusion that the sex was so life-altering that he was head over heels for her so this was all bullshit, at least that was what she was going to continue to tell herself from here on out to save her mental health.

She always brings her favorite blanket on any trip, it’s worn and has a few holes but it brings her comfort in new situations.

YN untucks it from her carry-on, wrapping herself up in it, and pulling her feet closer to her chest to curl in on herself after tucking headphones into her ears.

She props her phone on the armrest, playing a rerun of a cooking competition she’d already seen a few times but again, it provided comfort to her.

It was frustrating, the amount of times that Harry was looking over at her, just a quick flit of his eyes before moving back towards his screen but YN’s head was tilted at such an angle that she could see every time he did it.

There wasn’t much motivation to stay awake, hoping that she could sleep mostly through the flight, and her volume of the show was low enough that she could still hear Jeff and Harry talking intermittently.

When her eyes flutter shut, not opening back up again to watch her show, she hears Harry quietly call over the flight attendant, “Can you please dim the lights and bring a few pillows? Thank you.”

The man agreed before disappearing for a few minutes, a few quiet words but YN was starting to fall asleep uncomfortably balanced with her chin on her palm, elbow on the arm rest.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asks under his breath as she hears a bit of rustling.

“She’s going to be uncomfortable if she sleeps like that,” Harry bites out, seemingly very annoyed with his assistant at this point and then she can smell him before she feels him.

The strong but delicious scent of something expensive, deep and inherently masculine with just a faint tone of something more feminine and sweet- god, she could bathe in it.

He’s slow in his movements as he tucks the pillow behind her head before gently taking a hold of her wrist, moving her back until she’s more comfortably resting against the pillow before he’s going back to his seat.

The confusion of feelings that’s churning in her stomach makes her heart start to race and instead she turns up her show to tune out anything he may say to Jeff afterwards.

YN has nightmares.

After a horrible experience with a client over a year back, it’s a nearly ninety-nine percent accurate bet that she’ll wake up at some point, sweaty, panicking, and feeling like she’s in danger.

The only time YN hadn’t had a nightmare in the past year was last night, when she was asleep with Harry in his bed, it had been the most peaceful slumber she’d gotten since her trauma.

She never had sex with her clients but after the event, she refused to even sleep in the same bed as them and sometimes refused to accept the job if she had to sleep in the same hotel room as them.

Typically the nightmares were worse when she was in strange places, traveling, hotels, so on.

They were more manageable when she was in her house, in the safety of her bed with a lock on her bedroom door to keep her feeling more secure even though sometimes it isn’t even helpful.

YN needs to escape, she can’t be here anymore, and for a moment she’s blind, unable to find any light to a path of escape.

There’s someone or something lurking in the shadows but she can’t see them.

She cannot tell how close they are but she knows they are there and completely dangerous.

Suddenly, a light in the darkness, a door that illuminated with a blunt red exit sign, flickering in the otherwise darkness.

YN starts running, sprinting as fast as her legs can take her towards the exit and away from the darkness behind her.

When she gets the door, she goes to grab the handle but can’t feel it, when she looks down…

There’s no handle anymore.

There’s nothing but a smooth surface and the exit sign flickers a few more times before it’s buzzing and goes dark.

Now she’s cornered and she can feel the disgusting damp breath on the back of her neck.

“YN….” “YN…..” “YN…”

“YN, wake up f’me.”

Harry’s voice finally gets through completely, the nightmare fading into darkness before she’s blinking her eyes open to the dimly lit cabin of the plane around her.

Harry is standing over her with concern in his eyes, hand reaching out like he wants to touch her, and Jeff was staring at her too.

YN could feel her cheeks were wet from tears, her heart was pounding, and there was sweating on her temple from how intense that traumatic nightmare was.

“Don’t touch me!” YN nearly growls when Harry moves forward with his hand extending, like he’s going to try to comfort her, “Don’t! Don’t fucking touch me!”

Harry puts his hands up in surrender, to display that he wasn’t going to try to touch her, and for good measure, he takes two major steps backwards to put distance between them.

“You were having a nightmare,” Harry tells her like she doesn’t know, she feels a bit guilty because he’s clearly startled by her reaction and most likely by her nightmare too, “I don’t know, I figured it was best to try to wake you up. You were crying and screaming…I couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

“Well, I’m sorry I was such a bother,” YN bites out, now completely on the defensive as she wraps the blanket further around herself, as tight as possible as she takes deep breaths through her nose and out her mouth.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that-“ Harry tries to explain, talking faster than his normal drawl to get his point across but YN’s mind had shifted into a dark place which meant she had no patience.

“Stop, just stop,” YN interrupts, trying to ignore how shaky her hands were when she unscrewed the lid of a water bottle and took a swig because her throat feels dry.

YN feels like crying because of the pure embarrassment of having the nightmare, she should have known she shouldn’t try to sleep on the plane despite the long flight.

Nightmares always trigger darker thoughts of the trauma, it takes a while for them to slip back out but she’s been working on it with her therapist now for a while and it’s become a little easier to manage.

However, it’s like she has to work to get her mind out of the nightmare after she’s awake, she has to remind herself that she’s not in that situation anymore and she’s safe from that man.

YN finishes the water bottle and props up her phone again to put back on a show, something that she can get into that will keep her awake but she knows she’s going to be exhausted at the hotel now because of resisting sleep on the plane.

Harry continues to work away most of the flight on his laptop, phone, talking to people over conference calls, discussing business with Jeff, and it seems like he has a nonstop amount of things to do.

YN notices that as it gets later into the night, his eyes start to get heavy, long blinks and it gets harder for him to open them once they close.

His lips had gone lax, parted and puffy as he tried to focus on the screen.

At some point, he closes his laptop and stows all the items away before sitting back in his chair.

It was interesting, he was still in a pristinely tailored suit, leather boots on, and a completely uncomfortable outfit to wear for a long plane ride.

He doesn’t recline his seat, simply sits back, crosses his arms, and tilts his head back against the headrest with his eyes closed - it couldn’t possibly be comfortable but it’s not long because his head starts to tilt to one side when he falls asleep.

YN gave herself permission to fully look at him since she hadn’t after last night.

She wished that maybe he wasn’t as handsome as she’d thought the night before.

But he was still breathtakingly beautiful as he sat across from her.

His eyelashes were unfairly long, his jawline was cut like it was from marble, and the way his arms were crossed highlighted just how built his biceps were from working out.

Not to mention, his lean but still muscular thighs, and YN couldn’t focus on that for too long because less than twenty-four hours ago, she was in his lap, bum against those same thighs as she worked on top of him.

YN realizes after much too long of a moment that Jeff is watching her watch Harry, the poor man seems so confused but if Harry wasn’t willing to cough up the information about their initial meeting, neither was she.

After being caught, she diverts her attention back to her screen but it doesn’t mean that occasionally her eyes drift back to study his features once more like she’ll forget if she doesn’t memorize them.

However, when she looks over at her for her intermittent check in at some point later on, she’s startled to see the bright green of his eyes staring back at her which quickly makes her glance away.

Harry is much more shameless about watching her throughout the flight which she can’t tell why but it doesn’t get on her nerves as much as she would like it too.

There was a car waiting for them on the tarmac at the private port, her bags loaded in for her as they both slid into the backseat, and Jeff took the front with the driver.

It’s a quiet ride.

YN gets angry when she finds herself wishing for his hand to hold hers or for him to rest his on her thigh because she shouldn’t want that from a guy who treated her like trash.

The hotel is beautiful, luxe, and a one night here definitely cost more than a month of her rent.

When they get into the main lobby, it’s bustling and busy with arrivals for the technology summit presumably, people heading to the hotel restaurant and bar in expensive outfits.

Jeff goes to check-in, waiting in line as many others were checking in.

Harry and YN were standing next to each other but not touching or interacting.

However, when a middle-aged man walks up to them, she knows that it’s time to turn on her game-face and do what she came here to do, which was to convince people that Harry and her were in a committed relationship.

As soon as she realizes that they are coming towards them, YN plasters a smile on her face that would seem sincere to anyone who doesn’t know her, and she takes a step towards Harry.

She moves to wrap her arm around his waist, making it intimate as she goes under his suit jacket, and pulls herself into his side like she belongs there and it’s scary how natural it seems.

Harry hesitates for a moment, this wasn’t as natural, and it’s like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch her back until she gives him a light squeeze on his hip to tell him it was.

At that point, he relaxes with permission, and his big hand comes to rest on the small of her back, low enough that his fingertips brush the curve of her bum but not too much to be inappropriate.

“Styles,” The man gruffs, voice crackly and worn, “I haven’t seen you since you bought out Richardson.”

YN learns very quickly that Harry is a professional, a businessman who holds himself confidently and has vast knowledge of everything that he needs to for his line of work.

“I’ve bought out three other of your competitors since then. I haven't gotten a thank you or nothing,” Harry replies, teasing in his tone but his voice is deeper, more dominant than it had been with her.

The man doesn’t acknowledge Harry’s words because his eyes drift to YN.

“I would have remembered if you’d brought such beauty on our last summit,” He has no shame in running his eyes up and down her body with a predatory gaze, it made her want to gag, “I wouldn’t have even gone to the summit. I’d have stayed the whole time in the hotel room, and wouldn't have let her out.”

YN expects Harry to allow the comment, every other man she’s done this job with has, they actually enjoy when their colleagues objectify her because it makes their egos bigger.

She expects Harry to laugh or agree like every other man.

Harry straightens up more, broadening his shoulders almost defensively, and then he does something extremely interesting.

He moves his hand from her back to around her front, curving around the front of her hip, and gently but forcefully moves YN behind him a bit more, and he steps in front of her.

That’s when she realizes that Harry is protecting her even if this man wasn’t a physical threat to her, he was shielding her from his creepy stare by blocking her with his body.

Nobody….no man has ever done that for her.

Even a boyfriend in her personal life.

She doesn’t think much about it as she hooks her fingers into the belt loops of his dress pants, showing him that she’s right behind him, still touching him - something she would have never done with any other date.

“I think you better reconsider the way you want to talk to me about my woman because not only will I never make a deal with you again but I punch you in the fucking face. Disgusting,” Harry bites out in a sharp, deadly tone that YN hadn’t heard before.

“I have the keycards,” Jeff butts in, oblivious as always as he hands two to Harry.

Harry is unsettled now, his chest puffing a bit quicker, and his nostrils flared as he grabs them out of Jeff’s hands, not giving the man another moment of his time as he storms off in the opposite direction.

“C’mon,” Harry gruffs, not annoyed at YN per se but seeming more stressed out than he’d been so far, and reaches out for her hand to lead her towards the elevators.

YN finds herself wanting to hold his hand and so she does, allowing him to guide them towards the lifts as Harry nods and greets multiple people along the way before he’s shuffling YN into the elevator.

She can’t decipher what’s going on in his head but he’s not happy and she doesn’t know what that guy saying that to her put him in such a foul mood as if they were actually dating.

And she doesn't know how to tell him that he’s going to have to encounter that quite a lot.

These rich, lawless men didn’t have filters.

They talk to women however they see fit, even if their boyfriend or husband is standing right there because ninety-nine percent of the time they’ll join in on the vulgar conversation.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks after a moment, after he’d gathered himself a bit more.

“Yes. The flight was fine and -“ YN starts but Harry shakes his head, making her stop talking.

“No, with…in the lobby. I didn’t realize that guy was such a fucking asshole,” Harry replies with a twitch in his jaw, he still hadn’t let go of YN’s hand despite no one but Jeff being in the elevator with them.

YN cracks a small smile, “I’m used to it. I appreciate you standing up for me though. That was a nice change. However, you’re going to see that those comments happen quite a bit.”

“It’s fucked up. Of course I’m not going to let anyone talk to you like that,” Harry is still visibly upset, lips turned down, brow furrowed deeply, and his hand was squeezing hers tightly.

YN shouldn’t because it’s too intimate, it flashes back to last night but she reaches up to pat his jaw, “Thank you. Just forget it now, okay? Enjoy your time here.”

Harry’s eyes are searching hers, torn and frustrated, and he shuts them for a moment as he takes a deep breath, nodding in agreement after a pause, and exhales.

Harry lets go of her hand which makes her chest ache a bit but he’s only dropping it so that he can wrap his arm around her waist and pull her further into his side - protective and strong.

“Just….Stay near me, okay? I need to be able to keep you safe,” Harry tells her and she wishes her heart didn’t skip a fucking beat because why was Harry everything she’s ever wanted in every single way?

It’s not fucking fair.

But maybe she can still enjoy it even if it is just for these three days.

It warmed something deep within her to have this man that she had a fondness for express directly that he has the desire to protect her and keep her safe - her stomach was flipping and she was in dangerous territory of forgetting he’d even kicked her out in the first place.

“Okay,” YN agrees quietly, desperately trying not to lean all of her body weight into his side but he gives her another tug closer when another man steps onto the elevator which she allows easily.

The hotel suite was everything to be expected, it was beautiful, vintage Italian but somehow modern, and the only issue was that there was one large four-poster bed.

“The couch pulls out,” Harry said when he notices YN surveying the room, “I’ll sleep on there.”

YN nods, biting her tongue to tell him just to share the bed with her, they already had once.

“Our first dinner event starts at eight. I have a business call to jump on so if you can try to be ready around seven forty-five, that’d be great,” Harry tells her as he digs back into his briefcase for his laptop.

It’s a much needed break, getting into the massive walk-in white marble shower, letting the heat relax her muscles, and wash off the plane ride into something more floral and clean smelling.

YN knew what she looked like when she was done up.

There was a reason that people paid large sums of money to call her their date.

She was a prize, a trophy, something that her date could show off.

YN decided to go big for the first outfit, well she would for every event but the tailored jumpsuit she wore hugged her curves perfectly, the built in corset did an outstanding job of giving her the perfect amount of perkiness and cleavage of her chest.

Normally she didn’t feel self-conscious at all, she didn’t really care too much what her dates thought of her outfit but it was different now for some reason.

What if Harry didn’t like it?

YN fixes her hair at least five times before she’s exiting the bedroom, where Harry has already changed into a new suit that was more style than profession with a barely buttoned shirt underneath the fit jacket.

After a few moments of tapping away at his keyboard, he glances up at her, and his eyes widen before he steadies his features, “You look…nice.”

YN feels a bit disappointed in his reaction, expecting more than ‘nice’ but she just gives him a half-smile before checking the time, they were going to be a few minutes late but not by much.

It’s a quiet car ride.

The first dinner was held at an art museum in the heart of the city.

Harry gripped her hand tightly when they exited the car, she was startled and blinded by the flashes of cameras - not realizing for a moment that there was a line of photographers waiting to snap pictures of the guests arriving.

Harry hustles them inside, away from the lights, and she has to blink a few times before she stops seeing spots.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks with a frown, hand still tightly holding onto hers.

“Yeah, just took me off guard,” YN responds as she looks around at the beautiful set-up of the expansive building, high ceilings and dim lights that create a moody, elegant ambiance.

“Styles, always late, huh?” A man approaches them right away, a jolly smile on his face as he eyes up YN, “Finally a new lover? I was wondering when you were going to start bringing another girl around!”

YN bites her lip because she doesn’t know of the girl that this man was hinting at but if she was to guess, it was an ex-girlfriend that he used to bring to these events.

And there is absolutely no reason that she should feel any lick of jealousy.

“Ronald,” Harry greets, dodging the comment, and once again, he pulls YN closer to him than before, tucking her into his side with a display of possessiveness when his large hand splays on her hip, spreading out his fingers, “Congratulations on your patent. I know you’d been working to get that for some time now.”

They dissipate into a conversation about business while YN sips on a glass of champagne that a server had come around with a tray of, Harry’s hand never once moving from her hip.

As they wrap up their chat, Ronald grins once more at YN before his eyes dart back to Harry, “I know that I shouldn’t say it but I think it’s fine because she’s your ex now. This one is much cuter, better body, and everything-“

Harry swallows tightly, voice cutting in like ice, “That’s enough.”

Ronald has the decency to blush when he realizes that Harry won’t participate in that disgusting way of talking about women and mumbles something before moving away.

Harry appears the same way he did in the elevator, struggling to contain his emotions, angry, and wanting to just tear someone’s head off.

The next few people that Harry talk to are normal, greeting her and introducing themselves but not making any type of comment to disrespect her or Harry which was a relief because Harry finally seemed to start calming down.

At one point, as a group of people are talking, Harry in the conversation as well - it seems like he does it without thinking but he turns his head, brushing his lips against YN’s temple in an extremely intimate gesture as he rubs a circle on her hip.

Harry tenses when he realizes what he’s doing but YN leans more into his side than before to assure him that it was okay, he moves his lips away but doesn’t stop massaging circles into her skin.

“You’re doing so good, thank you,” Harry murmurs in her ear as dinner comes to a close.

YN had done a good job of holding conversations, engaging with others at the table, and overall being a support date but not overbearing to encroach on his space.

It was Harry who couldn’t keep his hands off of YN, if he wasn’t holding her hand, it was on her hip or lower back, and he was constantly paying attention to who was talking to her to make sure they were being appropriate (nearly all of them were).

“You guys make a beautiful couple,” One of the women compliments sincerely, raising her flute of champagne, “A toast to a successful, happy relationship for Harry and YN!”

The rest of them raise their glasses, YN doing so as to not stand out, and the sound of glass clinking echoes for a moment before they all take a sip and put it down.

“C’mon! Give her a kiss!” Another woman giggles, a round of agreements following from the others.

Harry turns to YN, studying her face for a moment to gauge her reaction, he wants permission to do so.

YN takes the lead so as to not cause suspicion (and because she desperately wants to kiss him), starting to lean in.

As soon as Harry realizes that she’s leaning in for the kiss, he moves quicker than he has all night, both hands coming to cradle either side of her face as their lips meet with familiarity.

It’s the same spark from last night, if not stronger now.

The others at the table were cheering and whistling at them, laughing because half of them were drunk and the other’s were endeared by the young couple, as most of them were much older than her and Harry.

It’s not a peck.

Harry takes control easily, getting her bottom lip between his, and holding her face right where he wants her before he seems to snap back to reality, pulling away with parted lips and his pupils nearly taking up the green of his eyes.

He has a smudge of her lipstick on his lips which she leans forward and wipes off with her thumb but her heart is pounding by the way he’s staring her down as she tugs at his bottom lip for a moment.

His eyes are focused like she’s prey and he hasn’t eaten in days.

“Phew, get a room!” Someone jokes loudly, everyone following with laughter, “That’s the most action I’ve seen in a while!” There’s further laughter when the wife of the man who made that joke lightly punches his arm to scold him before rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her mixed drink.

Harry drops his hands but hesitates on where to put them, he moves like he’s going to put them back on his thighs but YN grabs the wrist closest to her, guiding it to rest on her thigh.

He’s shoulder slump just the slightest, relaxed and he gives plush a squeeze of appreciation before he’s jumping back into a business conversation, his fingers constantly drumming against her skin - never once moving away.

YN catches herself giving him starry eyes as he speaks, blinking herself out of it only to fall trap to it again and again.

He was hypnotized as he spoke, confident, dominant, and sure of every word that was coming out of his mouth.

At some point, YN excuses herself to the restroom, Harry had asked if she wanted him to walk her there but she had encouraged him to keep talking with a wave of her hand.

After quite a few minutes, as it was difficult to navigate the jumpsuit, and the zipper on the back - she takes a bit longer than she normally would and is a little out of breath by the time she manages to get outfit zipped again.

When she walks back to the table, she’s surprised to see that Harry’s no longer with the group which makes her confused.

Her eyes trace around the room for a minute, glancing over the other tables, the dessert table, and maybe he had decided that he needed to go to the bathroom after all.

It’s not until YN turns to go get another drink at the bar that she finds Harry.

He’s tucked away in the back corner, near the hallway of the bathrooms but completely out of view from when YN came out, and he’s talking to someone that YN can’t see from this angle.

Assuming he’s talking to another peer, YN starts to walk over but pauses when she realizes that it’s not a colleague but a very attractive, very beautiful woman who was standing in front of Harry.

They were talking with their heads ducked like they didn’t want others to hear their conversation and the way they were away from the ground screamed that they were looking for some sort of privacy.

YN can’t swallow down the lick of jealous that shoots up her spine.

She’ll cockblock Harry.

She doesn’t give one single fuck.

YN strides over, heels clicking confidently against the tile as she very rudely interrupts their hushed conversation, siding up right next to Harry, and hooking her arm in the crook of his elbow.

YN has a sharp, nearly wolfish smile on her face and a tilt of her head as she sizes up the woman in front of her without hiding it, “Hi, I’m YN. Harry’s girlfriend, it’s nice to meet you.”

YN sticks her hand out obnoxiously to offer a handshake which the girl examines with a sneer before briefly shaking like YN had a disease that was contagious through touch.

If YN had even bothered to glance at Harry, she would have seen the utter relief that had crossed his face when YN showed up but she was too zeroed in to notice anything about his mannerisms right now.

“I’m Vida,” She says with narrowed eyes, a smile gracing her face after a moment, like she’s realizing she absolutely has the upperhand, “Harry’s ex-wife.”

291 notes · View notes

onceinablueberrymoon · 27 days ago

Text

lemon pie | husband!salesman x reader

scenario: you have a craving for lemon pie. the salesman is on the case. setting: before season 2 word count: 1.1k warnings: mention of gambling addiction; second and third person POVs; no use of y/n; recruiter is called salesman here notes: this was originally for pi day, but i rewrote this way too many times💀 gi-hun is not the target this time (surprisingly!). just a simple fluff piece with classic squid game vibes :) please enjoy! borders by @enchanthings-a!

4 p.m.

It was finally time to clock out.

You stretched your arms above your head and let out a yawn.

At least it was the weekend, you thought. It had been a rough week at work and you were just relieved it was finally over.

You decided to get a little something to cheer you up. A pie. Not just any pie, but your local bakery’s house special: lemon pie.

Checking the time, you concluded that there wouldn’t be enough time for you to get to the bakery before it closed. Then, you had an idea. Your husband was working at home today. Maybe he could get to the bakery in time?

You sent him a message.

Really craving lemon pie from that bakery. Could you pick one up?

Your husband replied almost instantly, promising to get you your pie. You couldn’t help but smile as you packed up your things. He really was the best!

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

The familiar chime of a bell rang as the salesman entered the bakery. The smell of baked goods wafted through the air. The bakery wasn't very busy, thankfully. Only one customer was at the counter, a man.

The salesman went to stand behind him, patiently waiting for his turn. The man in front of him didn’t take long, soon leaving with a plastic bag in hand.

“Hello,” the salesman greeted the cashier. “I would like one of your lemon pies.”

She frowned slightly. “Unfortunately, the last pie was sold to the gentleman who just left.”

“I see,” the salesman mused, pondering what to do next. You were really counting on that pie to lift your spirits. “Thank you,” he bowed slightly to the cashier before leaving the bakery.

Once the salesman stepped out, he spotted the man walking across the street. An idea popped into his head.

He followed the man to the nearest subway station. Once on the platform, he made his move.

“Hello, sir. Could I talk with you?”

The man looked confused. “Sure? Can I help you?”

The salesman smiled politely. “I would like to make you an offer. Have you played ddakji before?”

The man chuckled. “The kids game? Of course.” He paused. “Why?”

The salesman clicked open his briefcase to reveal stacks of won bills. The man gasped.

“If you win, I’ll give you 100,000 won.”

The man’s eyes widened into saucers.

“But if you lose…” The salesman looked down at the plastic bag in the man’s hand. “You give me your pie.”

The man looked at the bag, then back at the salesman. “It’s my daughter’s birthday. This pie is her favourite dessert…” He seemed conflicted.

“We don’t have to play,” The salesman said as he began closing his briefcase.

“Wait!”

The salesman smirked. No one could resist the allure of money.

“I’ll… I’ll play.” The man looked desperate.

The salesman gave his signature smile.

“Then, let’s get started.”

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

“There’s no way-! One more round!”

The two men played five rounds before the salesman spoke up.

“I believe I’ve won.” The salesman held out a hand, a polite smile on his face. “Pie, please.”

The man begrudgingly handed it over. “What am I going to tell my daughter? Now I have nothing for her.”

The salesman tsked at the man. He took out a crisp 50,000 won bill from his briefcase and held it out. “Here, get your daughter something nice.”

The man nearly leapt to collect the money. He held it up to analyze it, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The salesman let out a huff. “Don’t go spending that at the races, all right, Park Jung-bae-ssi?”

The man froze, his eyes darting to the salesman. “H-how… How do you know my name?”

The salesman just looked at him with his usual polite smile. “Park Jung-bae. Marine Corps Class 746. Originally worked at Dragon Motors, but after the strike, was laid off. Attempted to start several businesses afterwards, none of which would last longer than a couple years.”

Jung-bae stumbled backwards. “Who… just who are you?!”

The salesman ignored him and continued to speak. “You’ve acquired quite a large sum of debt these past few years. And to top it off, your ex-wife only allows you to see your daughter a couple times a year.” He almost pitied Jung-bae.

Almost.

The salesman stepped towards Jung-bae and handed him a card. “There are other games where you can make more money than just 50,000 won. If you’d like to participate, give us a call.” He gave a short bow and lifted the plastic bag slightly.

“Thank you for the pie.”

The salesman walked away, leaving Jung-bae in stunned silence.

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

The sound of the front door closing woke you up from your post-work nap. Looking out the window, you noticed it was already dark.

You got out of bed and went to the kitchen where the salesman was washing his hands. A bag was next to him on the counter.

“Did you get it?” You asked, peering into the plastic bag.

“Of course,” he replied. You cheered, pulling him into a hug. To your surprise, he hugged you back.

“Thank you so much, I’ve been craving it all day!” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, then added, “It was the last one, too.”

You gasped. “No way! You really got lucky.”

He shrugged.

You moved to get some plates and a knife to cut the pie. “Would you like a piece?” You offered.

He shook his head. “It’s all for you.”

You cut yourself a big slice and went to eat it on the sofa. You turned the TV on to watch the nightly news. Your husband followed you, taking his place beside you. You snuggled into his side and began eating your pie.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” He asked.

You nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s even better because I’m with you. I’ve been dreaming of this moment all week.”

The salesman smiled, a fuzzy feeling enveloping his heart.

The joy on your face, the way you practically melted as you savoured your dessert… It was all worth it.

And he recruited another player at the same time. Two birds with one bullet.

Your happiness meant everything to him. He always tried his best to care for you, even if his ways could be a bit unconventional sometimes.

The salesman cherished you dearly, and he would do anything for you. That’s what people do for those they love, right?

Just then, the latest news in horse racing flashed on TV. They were interviewing a man who had won big at the races. But there, in the background, the salesman could pick out Jung-bae amongst the crowd, his expression distraught.

Your husband scoffed.

Well, maybe not everyone.

tags: @muchwita

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phant0mth1ef · 9 months ago

Text

bakugou x blunt business course reader hcs / let me know if you guys want little drabbles of this!!

- usually business course students wanted to create their own companies, but there were a select few like you and some others that agreed to take on the challenge of trying to market heroes as approachable and attractive!

- he’s known your name since first year due to your placement in the sports’ festival, honestly with your quirk he was surprised you didn’t take the hero track. anyways his nickname for you was “wasted potential business course extra.”

- the first time he actually talked to you was in second year when the teachers had told the hero course students to get more invested with those in the business course, stating that one day they’d be in charge of each and every career.

- was a pain in the ass when he first met you, like he literally sucked and you dreaded every meeting.

“hello… bakugou?” you said skimming down the list of potential heroes you were supposed to meet with.

“yeah, what?” you knew getting people to like him was going to be even harder than getting people to like another client of yours, monoma.

“don’t take that tone with me, i’m basically launching your career.” you typed away on your laptop as the boy sulked in a chair, listening to everything you said.

“as i was saying, marketing yourself in a way similar to best jeanist can have either a good outcome, they’ll approve of you. or a bad outcome, they’ll call you a copycat.”

“tch.” so he ignored your advice and launched his career in a way similar to the pro hero’s and ended up getting insane backlash to the point where you had to step in and try to completely rebrand him.

eventually you got people to start referring to him as the blast hero.

“people are calling me blasty boy.”

“wow. that’s really unfortunate for you! anyways, what’s your height? this company wants to interview you for their tall men friendly jeans.”

- hated meeting with you because of how blunt and honest you were, but also grew to like you because whenever you complimented him, he knew you were genuine.

- would try to blow off meetings just for you to find him and drag him back to the business course meeting rooms, your quirk was something similar to blackwhip so he couldn’t ever really get out of your hold.

- once he realized how popular he was quickly getting thanks to you, he started to actually value the time you’d been putting into making him an admirable hero, but he couldn’t say the same for monoma who, no matter what you did, could not be saved in the publicity department.

- would never thank you, at least not directly.

“i guess this is where we part ways.” you told him at your last meeting before graduation.

“… i guess so. 🧍🏻 thanksorwhatever.” he spoke fast, as if he’d run out of words before leaving.

- even though he said he hated you on countless occasions, he couldn’t deny that he’d begun to miss you when you weren’t around. going so far as to find your contact and call you up once he started his own agency.

“you want me so bad.” you said as you walked in, your briefcase in hand as you shoved the boy to the side, headed up to your new office.

“no i don’t! just need help. s’all!” he was so easy to piss off it was so funny.

- you made him take modeling gigs when his approval ratings were low.

- one time you both went to grab dinner and people assumed you were on a date and you guys just never corrected them and continued to do stuff like that.

- eventually you fell into a routine, and although he never explicitly asked you out, you’d moved into his apartment, did couple things like kiss and stuff, and were always around each other.

- even he thought you were dating until you got interviewed once.

“a boyfriend?… no.” you were so oblivious it was crazy, he had to tell you afterwards that he thought you were his girlfriend.

“WE’RE DATING?” you were completely shocked and he just stood like like a statue.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?!”

#mha #myheroacademia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

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pineconepie · 2 months ago

Note

This is all so amazing but I have to have some more of Vincent talking care of us especially what happens with his mob and stuff like if he’s out how much defense does he know on you and if so how many of them are around our finger by our 2 meeting?

This isn't exactly what was requested, but I still like the way it turned out :3

TW: Mentions of violence, parental/platonic yandere, infantilization

...

You hold Vincent's hand as he steps out the limousine, gently tugging you along with him.

When he mentioned bringing you to his office and workplace, you had no clue what to expect. So far, most of what you've seen matches the theme of Cryo and their various properties and establishments - mostly sleek black and white, with hints of blues and grays thrown in here and there.

You look up at the building nervously, but he doesn't seem too worried about it at all.

In fact, he looks rather excited for this visit. "You'll love it! We have lots of nice stuff here," he reassures you. "I'll hire a babysitter for you soon, but for now I want you to stay with Dad some more before we separate too much."

Babysitter, huh? Well, it makes sense given how protective and controlling Vincent acts around you. Not that you'd complain too much, you're well fed and generally content, besides the occasional panic session.

He smiles widely, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you into the lobby area.

The walls are painted a light cream color, the floors tiled grey.

There aren't any windows on this floor, just doors leading elsewhere inside.

There are several men and women walking around wearing suits and carrying briefcases or files. A few glance at you curiously as they pass by, but otherwise they keep focused on their tasks.

They all move aside quickly upon noticing Vincent approaching with you, however. None of them want to get in your way or risk upsetting the boss by holding up traffic.

That must mean these people really respect him, or fear him.

Probably a little bit of both.

Either way, it gives you chills thinking about what kind of person could command so much authority without even raising their voice once.

Then again... You suppose that's part of being in charge of a massive organization like Cryo. Anyone who steps out of line gets dealt with accordingly. No questions asked.

A woman approaches him briskly. "Good morning, Mr. Brewer," she greets politely, bowing her head slightly as she does. Her gaze flickers to you briefly before returning back to him. "How may I assist you today?"

"Just making sure my kiddo settles in nicely here." Vincent pats your head affectionately. "Come on, munchkin." He guides you down the hall.

Everyone stares at you openly now, curious about the newcomer. You try not to pay attention, focusing instead on Vincent and where he leads you. Eventually, you arrive in front of an office door marked 'Mr. Vincent Brewer.'

Inside is an enormous space filled with expensive furnishings and decorations.

Huge bookshelves line one wall; another contains a large fireplace surrounded by comfy armchairs. The ceiling itself seems to stretch upwards forever, ending somewhere far above your head.

On the opposite side of the room sits a desk piled high with papers and other items that look like they belong to important meetings. A huge map covers most of the surface. Behind it stands a window overlooking the city below.

"I made sure the mini fridge is stocked full of juice boxes and snacks," he tells you, gesturing to the corner of the room. "Only the best for my baby."

You blush and rub your arm. "I-I'm not a baby..."

He smiles at you sweetly, booping your nose. "Aw, yes you are, sweetie. But its okay! You don't have to worry about anything anymore." He then scoops you up in his arms and rocks you back and forth, making you giggle. "See? You try to act all tough and grown-up sometimes, but deep down you just wanna be babied, right?"

"...shut up," you mutter into the fabric of his shirt.

He hums softly and continues to sway you back and forth for a few moments longer before finally setting you down again. Then he takes your hand and leads you towards the couch near the fireplace.

"Here's some blocks and crayons and stuff." He sets a box of toys on top of the coffee table, along with a coloring book. "I have lots of important paperwork to do, so play quietly and let Dad focus on work, okay?"

You nod obediently, already reaching for the box.

Your fingers brush against plastic bricks and cardboard books before pulling away again, grabbing hold of some colored pencils instead. You start drawing random lines and shapes onto blank sheets of paper, enjoying yourself more than you'd like to admit.

Meanwhile, Vincent sits down behind his desk and begins sorting through various documents, scribbling things down whenever he needs to jot something down.

Every now and then he glances over at you, smiling warmly each time.

When you finish scribbling aimlessly across the page, you glance up to see what else you could do. The idea of sitting still for hours while listening to Vincent shuffle through papers is boring beyond belief.

You wonder how much you could annoy him if you truly acted the child he's so keen to treat you like.

You crawl into his lap, giggling when he jolts in surprise, looking down at you.

"What are you doing, cutie pie?" Vincent asks. He wraps one arm around you protectively. His grip tightens slightly as he leans forward to get a better view of your drawings. "Drawing pretty pictures for Dad, hm?"

"Yep!" you chirp, smiling brightly up at him. "Wanna see?"

His expression softens further as he nods. "Yeah, sure! Come on, up ya go." He lifts you higher onto his chest so he can see everything clearly. Then he examines your artwork closely for several seconds. Afterward, he gives you an approving nod. "My baby is so talented! That's beautiful. Didn't know I was in the same room as an artistic prodigy!"

Your face heats up at the compliment, feeling embarrassed yet oddly pleased at the same time. "T-thank you..."

He ruffles your hair affectionately and sets you back down again. "Why don't you draw some more? Maybe make Dad a picture too?"

You were hoping he'd be annoyed with you, but he looks more happy than anything, even with how busy he must be right now.

Oh well.

Maybe next time.

You continue to doodle idly for a while longer. You find yourself wanting to push the envelope with Vincent's patience, see how much he'll allow before it becomes too much.

But then he stands, adjusting his tie. "I got a quick meeting to attend," he says, offering you a sad smile. "Wait here. I'll come check on you and bring you lunch after."

Disappointed, you nod, frowning as he pats your head and walks towards the exit.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click. Only then do you slump against the cushions of the chair you sat upon earlier. Now what will you do?

You return to your doodles, deciding that this is probably the best way to pass time while waiting for him to return.

Once you get bored with those, you wander around the office. You poke around his desk drawers, finding nothing interesting there besides the usual stuff like pens and pencils.

You sift through folders of documents, but its hard to understand any of it, since there's loads of big words you don't know and lots of numbers involved. You end up staring blankly at pages full of graphs showing lines going upwards and downwards, wondering how anyone could ever read such boring stuff without falling asleep halfway through.

When that gets boring, you go to the door, turning the knob, expecting him to have locked it behind him.

However, much to your surprise, it opens easily.

So either he trusts you won't run off while unsupervised, or he simply forgot to lock it due to distraction.

Whatever the case may be, it means you have access to explore the building freely...

With excitement bubbling in your stomach, you quickly step out of the room and shut the door carefully so it doesn't make a noise.

Oddly enough, you don't want to try escaping, even if the chances were in your favor.

You take the elevator up a few floors and look out the window.

The view up here... It really is breathtaking. From where you stand, you can see miles and miles away, watching the sky shift colors as clouds drift overhead.

"Oh, poor thing. Are you lost?" a gentle voice coos.

You turn to see a man who looks slightly younger than Vincent, with long dark hair and grey eyes. He wears a suit, but he has several bandages wrapped around his hands.

"N-no! I'm just..." You pause, unsure what excuse to use. "...I was exploring."

He frowns. "Is that so? I'm Trenton. What's your name, little one?" He kneels down, even though he isn't much taller than yourself.

Why is everyone so insistent on treating you as a child?! But you can't deny, it does make you feel smaller. "...(Y/n)."

Trenton blinks for a moment. "Ohh, you're Vincent's child! Oh, wow. I can tell why he dotes on you, you're adorable. What on earth are you doing here? It's dangerous and I know for a fact Vinnie wouldn't allow it."

Another group of people come over, before you get the chance to even reply.

"Woah! Why's a kid here?" a man with short messy hair asks.

"That's Boss's kid," a woman in a pinstripe suit remarks. "We shouldn't mess with them. He won't take kindly to us interactin' with them."

Suddenly, you feel tiny amongst these tall adults surrounding you.

Trenton notices your anxious expression. "That's just Quinn, don't mind her. Oh, and this is Phoenix."

"Heya, squirt," Phoenix greets. He ruffles your hair. "We should probably get them back to Mama Bear's office before he notices. I'd rather not have all my limbs broken today."

"Mama Bear?" you ask in confusion, tilting your head.

"The Boss," Quinn replies shortly. "Our new little code name for him."

"Because of youuu," Phoenix croons, pinching your cheeks. "Boss treats you like his baby cub. I think it's cute, personally."

"Okay, leave (Y/n) alone," Trenton scolds. "Come on, I'll lead you back downstairs." He holds out his uninjured hand for yours, which you accept. Not like you have much of a choice.

"I can come with you guys!" Phoenix exclaims. "And so can Quinn, right?"

The woman sighs. "Well, it beats working."

As the four of you begin descending the stairs, you look at Trenton's bandaged hands. "What happened?" You don't even realize its rude until you say it out loud. "I'm sorry if that was personal..."

He chuckles. "Aw, it's okay. It's fine." He stretches them out, examining the wounds beneath his cloth wrappings. "Just some... accidents in the workplace." He smiles faintly.

Phoenix elbows him roughly in the ribs. "You didn't tell em the best part! About the fork!"

"I don't want to traumatize the poor thing!" Trenton exclaims. "You know Vincent would kill me."

Quinn smirks. "The story behind it was pretty funny. Some bastard thought he could break in and steal some documents, but good ol' Trent here managed to take him out with a single fork. Very gory, very bloody. I sat and watched the entire thing. The best part? It was a Hello Kitty-themed fork."

Trenton glares. "It was actually Keroppi. Get your Sanrio characters straight next time."

She rolls her eyes dramatically.

You frown. "T-that's awful... is the intruder okay?"

Phoenix laughs loudly. "Pft— Hell nah! Boss had us kill the dude. None of us really like killing, but it comes with the job."

"I like it," Quinn shrugs, earning another glare from Trenton. "What?! Don't get a job here if you're squeamish about killing."

Trenton sighs, then notices your terrified expression. "I know that's probably scary... but we only kill the people who deserve it." He offers a small smile. "Don't worry, sweetie. We won't hurt you." He narrows his eyes at both Phoenix and Quinn. "Now please, they've already been traumatized enough. Let's talk about happier things, shall we?"

They hear yelling as they get closer to the hall you remember Vincent's office being.

"Someone had to see them! Are you all stupid?! They're so small, there's no way they got far! Fuck! Check the cameras!" Vincent bellows. "If they aren't found in the next ten fucking minutes, you're all dead!"

"Ohhh, someone messed up big time," Phoenix says under his breath, glancing over at you. "Lemme guess - you left while he went somewhere?"

You swallow nervously and nod.

"(Y/n)! Baby, where are you?! Please don't do this to me!" Vincent cries from afar. His tone went from livid to desperate in the span of just a few seconds. "Please, angel, if you can hear me, come back! Where are you?!"

Trenton grimaces. "This is the most upset I've seen him since... ever." He glances at Quinn and Phoenix. "I think you guys should leave if you don't want to face his wrath."

"Good plan. Seeya, squirt." Phoenix gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Bye, Trenton. Good luck."

When you finally reach Vincent, he's panting and pacing back and forth, gun in hand and eyes crazed. He looks genuinely terrifying right now.

"(Y/n)?!" He sprints over immediately, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, oh thank god. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere?" He starts patting you down, searching every inch of skin for injury. "Where have you been? Do I need to kill someone?" He kisses your face all over, squeezing you impossibly tight in his embrace. "God, don't scare me like that!"

You glance at Trenton, silently pleading for help.

Trenton clears his throat. "Boss... I found them wandering around, they got lost. They were looking for you. Everything is okay."

Vincent stares at him, still clutching your trembling body tightly. "Is that so?" Then he returns his attention to you again. "Baby? Is that true?"

You hesitate, because that's far from true, but lying would probably spare you from his anger. "I got worried. You were gone forever." You bury your face in his shoulder, hoping he'll feel pity for you. "Please don't be mad at me... or Trenton."

Vincent sighs heavily. "Oh, pumpkin... It's alright." He kisses the top of your head lovingly. "Sorry I left for so long. I'll call my driver to pick us up early, then we can put this all past us." He leads you back into his office, passing Trenton a grateful smile. "Thanks, Trent. I'll buy you a new set of Keroppi silverware."

"...that would be appreciated."

...

"Boss's ride is here, where is he?" Phoenix tilts his head.

"In his office. I'll make sure he's okay," Trenton says.

Quinn and Phoenix follow. Trenton knocks gently and cracks open the door to check in on Vincent and his kiddo.

On the couch, you're sleeping soundly on his lap, a blanket draped across you and Vincent cradling you like you're the most precious thing in existence. Probably because to him, you are.

"Aww," Phoenix coos, leaning on the doorway. "Mama Bear and his cub!"

Vincent shoots them the middle finger, but they can all see the amusement barely hidden on his face. "Don't you three have somewhere to be? Get out before you all get demoted."

Trenton stifles a laugh. "Your ride is here, Boss."

"Hmm." He carefully scoops you up, rubbing your back soothingly when you stir awake. "Shhh, shhh, its okay, munchkin. Just me and Trent. And Phoenix. And Quinn, for some reason. Go back to sleep." You fall unconscious again, instinctively nuzzling closer to Vincent.

You hate to admit it, but you feel safe.

#parental yandere #familial yandere #platonic yandere #yandere #forced age regression #forced agere #yandere age regression #yandere oc #vincent oc #trenton phoenix and quinn are now your big siblings!! congrats

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itstheghostofmypast · 3 months ago

Text

Corporate Couple

Corporate AU Kim Hongjoong x (F)Reader

Summary: Marriages have their ups and downs, but what if your boss as the hots for you?

Genre: fluff

Warnings: slight language

Word Count: 1.1K

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Rating: PG-13

Type: One-shot

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

You walked into your apartment ready to find it empty as usual; even though your husband and you would leave together in the morning, it was often that he would stay later than usual handling reports and whatnot- of course, that's what you get for marrying a workaholic.

To be fair, you were in no mood to talk to him right now anyway, so you were glad he was definitely not going to be home. Why did you two fight?

Simple, in your 3 bedroom, state of the art penthouse, you had a wonderful open kitchen, one with the facilities that would have the world’s best chefs wanting to use this equipment- this included a dishwasher. One that her husband, a respectable corporate slave, one earning enough for them to have twenty kids and provide them with a top-tier lifestyle, never used.

Yes, Kim Hongjoong, a man with a variety of wonderful qualities, brains, personality and good looks, had a persisting, irritating habit of not placing his used dishes in the dishwasher.

Hence, a merger, “I'm sorry love, I’ll be careful next time.” He could have diffused the situation, but how could Kim Hongjoong prove to be a stubborn bastard if he had diffused the situation? And chose to use the words, “Really because one dirty dish is going to bring the end of the world.”

Well it had not brought the end of the world, but she had managed to show him a glimpse of what that would look like. In the end, the two had slept in different rooms, had breakfast at opposite ends of the counter and had gone to work on different cars.

That's why when you locked the door, you sighed in defeat but also relief, glad he wasn't there- or so she thought, for when she entered the living space, she found a familiar hunched over back at the dining table, typing away.

Great.

With a slight “Hmph”, you marched into the open kitchen, placing your briefcase on the marble top counter and glaring at him, noticing him visibly flinch. Good, he should know she's still upset.

You turned to grab a glass from the cabinet, only for your phone to right, your sour expressions fading at the name of your work bestie, the only person who understood you- other than the stupid gremlin of a man sitting 3 feet away from you- Mrs.Song.

Swiping to accept the call, you put it on speaker as you began to take out the ingredients for dinner, “Hello, my love, how are you!?”

Her voice echoed in the silence, and you heard the chair screech, yes, leave you, bastard- of course, he was afraid of Mrs Song, hell, Mingi was as well- and Hongjoong knew you had not told her about your little fight because she’d been on maternity leave, but would you now? Was he ready to hear you talk about how bad of a husband he was?

No, he wasn't, honestly he had regretted it as soon as the words had left his mouth, he had noticed your eyes go blank, maybe you were having a bad day, or maybe you wanted him to not act like any other idiot from work, maybe you were tired and stressed- and he may have added to it.

“Missing you, stupid work and stupid men- how's the maternity leave going?”

“It's good…as good as it can be.”

“Mingi taking care of you?”

“Of course!” Her cheerful voice filled the silence in their home, one that had Hongjoong wincing. Oh, he knew what you were doing, “What about you? I heard the new board member was eying Joong.”

“Oh my god!” Slamming the knife down, you took a deep breath; images of that hag staring shamelessly at your man appeared before your eyes, “She was- I was leaving okay- and then she stops me and is just ‘your husband is a very good looking man’, and initially I was like okay? I know my Joongie is good-looking. Why are you staring him up like a creep?!”

Mrs.Song's laughter rang across the kitchen followed by a static, “Oh? So you're not mad at him anymore?”

Hongjoong, who was just around the corner, who had come to take a file he had left on the table, who had heard the conversation flow to another topic and who he had very much heard the ‘my Joongie’, decided to stay hidden, especially when he felt something brew within him at the sound of the way you were being so possessive.

“Of course, I'm mad at that idiot!”

He flinched at your tone, umm…okay so you were bipolar, and he fell in love with a mentally ill person-

“Hongjoong is very annoying, very stupid, very noisy sometimes too- he's squeaky too.” His face deadpanned at your remarks, “He can't cook, he can barely clean, he's a damn workaholic but he is also,” extremely handsome…”

His heart fluttered at your comment, and he heard you sigh, finally coming out of the corner to find her facing the stove, as he sat on a bar stool near the counter, watching her stir the pot.

“Well, that's true…don't let Mingi know I said that.”

You cackled at your friend's response, before mumbling, “Don't tell stupid Joong I said that…he'd be over the moon…his big head is inflated enough-”

A sneeze stopped you mid way, turning around to glare at the eavesdropped, “My queen, I will call you back.”

“Sure, play nice you two~”

Hongjoong watched you hang up before he scurried over to you and hugged you before you could react.

“Excuse me.” you mumbled, trying to push him off you before you grabbed his face, squished his cheeks, and frowned at him, “I was complimenting my husband because I'm possessive.”

“You're complementing your husband because you love him...and he loved you very much too” He mumbled back, holding onto your waist like his life depended on it, only for you to sigh and let go of his face, “I'm sorry, the dishes weren't a big deal-”

“N-no, they were…I should clean up after myself…you work too…and I need you to be active at work.” He hummed, gently swaying you side to side, earning a giggle from you, “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“So you can keep me safe from the hag~” He sang back only for you to shove him away, “Good lord. Lord forbid someone finds a man with no rizz like me”. You walked back to the stove only for him to cling onto you from the back- a clingy Joongie was a rare Joongie, one that you loved the most- as he kissed the side of your head, “Let me set the table, love…we got a whole budget to make.” With that, he pulled away, his signature chuckle echoing in the kitchen that followed your whining about how much you hate work.

It didn't matter, though; you still had to go to work because your Joongie needed you to be there - a true corporate couple.

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gnohomotho · 2 months ago

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May I play with you? 「✦Pt.1✦」

Pairing: The Recruiter // The Salesman x fem!reader Summary: Responding to my prompts, just a little start to something I hope you'll enjoy. Warnings: General Salesman warnings, though no NSFW yet. Fowl language. Implied very bad things™. Word count: 2.4k A/N: Truly trying this out, if you like it, I'll gladly dive straight into the angst/smut/fluff but I do like to flesh out my stories and characters. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) He is a very novel character for me to write, so I'm trying. ฅ^._.^ฅ Link to next Masterlist! If you like my writing, I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // message // request! <3

Isn’t it funny how one can keep running into the same people?

The subway. Each and every day. You learned to scan your surroundings, wherever you were.

Just a little proclivity you adopted along the way.

Head, face, count, danger, normal.

You avoided sitting down but today, you were tired. Your grants didn’t work out. Your family needed money. You wouldn’t care, you tried not to, but your little sister meant everything to you.

Moving away so far was never something you wanted. And their ways of getting back at you, or even trying to find you (by accident, of course) never let you rest.

Head count. All normal. A few errant people on their way to work. A group of girls obviously on their way to school, laughing together. A group of older men. A well-dressed lady in her late 40s.

Gosh, you were tired. You sat down and ran a hand through your hair which fell past your face with utter indifference. Knees together, straightening your skirt, you notice your shoes are on their last legs.

“Damn it.”

You forgot the head count as the minutes went by.

Damn it!

There go the obsessive-compulsive allegations, you can almost hear them sauntering down on you. No. Your shoes get quite literally outshined by a pair of incredibly posh black spades too close for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Oh no…not this again.

You lift your head and gaze to firmly tell whoever is there to kindly leave you alone. Yet your eyes meet a beaming pair themselves, accompanied by a quietly radiant smile like that of a very glad reptile.

The man was a tad leaned forward, very unassuming, with hair too perfect for the subway – come to think of it, his entire attire and demeanour did not belong here one bit.

You say nothing. Perhaps he was just apologising for sitting so close when there are, as you scanned, enough free benches elsewhere.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting all alone while most of the carriages already went by.”

How did you not notice him? How did he know?!

Your alarm bells are swinging off their hinges and you blink, averting his gaze immediately. You still see him smiling that unassuming, almost innocent smile from the corner of your eye – truly reminding you of a snake who has zoned in on a particularly slow mouse.

“I’m…waiting for someone. My…friend. Should be here any minute!” You smile with your eyes firmly closed.

That was stupid.

“Boyfriend. Yes. That.” My 6-foot-5 boyfriend whose hobbies include kickboxing, day-drinking, LARP wrestling and very long swords. Who certainly exists.

“Oh?” His voice is full of curious intrigue now, your plan backfiring spectacularly. You try not to look at the line of his perfectly ironed trousers revealing the very elegant ankles too close to your shoes.

“In that case, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.” He gets up just as fast, playfully patting his knees as he does – why does this feel so…odd? Like you’re getting played? – “I wouldn’t wish to be rude.” He begins to walk away, and you notice his full height, the briefcase, the persona itself leaving you safe once more. An exhale escapes your lips. Enough slimy businessmen for one day.

“Oh, but miss…” He turns around, that charming, far too kind smile hitting you right between the eyes.

“…when he does show, do tell him how lucky he is to exist.”

❥❥❥

DAMN. IT.

You tried your best to focus that day. You really did. But in the back of your mind. There he was. That tall, weird, creepy, incredibly handsome mother---

“Hey, it’s ok, Y/N. Just a weirdo at a subway station. As if that’s never happened to you before.” You smile into the phone hearing your sister’s voice.

“Did you use the fake boyfriend?” She asks pointedly.

“Yes. And it didn’t really work.” You don’t wish to worry her.

“Ok, next time try the fake Instagram, fake number, and just use one of the people who didn’t like your research! Boom!” You could hear her smiling into the phone and you smiled too, warmth growing in your chest.

“You’re such a darling, you know that? I miss you…”

“I miss you too, big sis, I really do. Mom and dad can’t shut up about you.”

You massage your temples. Of course they can’t. The disappointment of the family needs to be taken into account at least thrice a day.

Her voice grows quieter. “Pretty sure they didn’t send someone this time; I’ve been keeping track.”

She read your mind, and it doesn’t calm you down. But you truly do not wish to worry her.

“It’s ok, lovely, really. Have you got everything you need?”

“Of course!”

The talk winds down into logistics and her school day, you patiently nod and laugh and wish her a sincere goodbye as you check the phone for her to hang up first.

As if by clockwork you notice your shoes are no longer alone. A pair of shining black spades rest beside them, too close for comfort.

You breathe out an exasperated breath which shakes at it last few steps.

“Can I help you?” You look up, summoning the bitchiest of bitch faces and stare into a jovially smiling pair of eyes that have sized you up three times over.

“Oh? What a lovely offer from such a lovely lady.” The words seemed to roll off his tongue as if he had practiced each and every one of them.

Nonchalant yet polite. Polite yet intrusive. Intrusive yet unassuming. Unassuming yet so very…volatile underneath.

Creepy, affluent, and pedantic? Wonderful. Just wonderful. Your sister was right, the weirdos really do tend to zone in on you.

“I thought I would keep you company since your boyfriend doesn’t seem too punctual.” His lips curl into a momentary frown, playing with you.

Even his voice is exaggerated in its faux sympathy.

“Such a rude man, letting you wait all evening. All morning. And all evening once more.” He cranes his neck to one side to be closer to your gaze, arms resting on his slightly outspread knees and hands closed into each other. You feel ice run through your back all the way down your spine.

“Do you have nothing better to do than patronise random women on the subway?”

His eyebrows lift in a combination of admiration and intrigue, hair still perfectly in place underlining those dark eyes staring right through you yet revealing nothing. The man is a walking one-way mirror, you think.

“Oh, definitely.” He looks up, shifts his gaze to the other side, as if mimicking thinking very hard upon his answer, but rests back in your eyes with a small knowing smile playing in the corner of his lips.

“I’m a busy man; I prefer to watch a specific woman on the subway. And would never wish to patronise her.”

You’re too tired for this.

“Oh? Who is she? Is she in the room with us?”

“Oh…” His entertained smile grows, fully lifting to his one cheek as he leans in even closer.

You don’t pull away for fear of letting him know you do feel fear. He leans in so close you can hear him whispering, as if trying not to be heard. He really is weird. And not in a very charming way.

Moreso in a “I wonder where the rest of the body is scattered” kind of way.

“She’s very specific,” he continues, “I hear she waits here in the morning, for a 7:00 carriage, sometimes, she lets that one leave and boards the 7:10 instead. She then, probably, based on a rumour, comes back at 20:00 but doesn’t take the immediate train – it’s been said she can be seen walking until 21:57, marking the very last train. And…”

He lets his head fall even further to the side getting very close to your line of sight, hands still clasped together, smile growing to the entirety of his mouth, “I’m rather sure she’s been seen missing that one a few times, too.”

What. In the ever-loving. Fuck.

“She rarely sits down, so it was quite hard to get all this information – classified sources, I’m sure you understand.” He straightens, but his eyes are piercing you even if you aren’t looking.

“And this particular woman seems very fond of her younger sister, [sister’s name], who loves her very much. So, so, so sweet.”

'Patronising' is a very weak word for the tone and facial expression his slightly closed, smiling eyes conveyed. His words felt like cyanide ice-cream must taste.

“What exactly is your endgame, before I call the police.” Your voice is level, your eyes missing his, your hands…shivering. You feel utterly exposed and the ice on your back has ossified into a glacier.

“I don’t think I have just one specific game in mind, miss Y/N.”

He looks fondly into the crowd boarding the current train.

“I just enjoy her company.”

❥❥❥

It became a bit of a game in the following weeks.

You changed stations, he was there, pretending to be a stranger in the crowd.

A subtle smile above the heads of all other onlookers.

You changed times, it took him a few minutes, but he was there.

Sitting on a bench in that knee-outstretched leisurely yet elegant pose, nonchalant smile finding your eyes.

You changed your favourite coffee spot; he was a few people behind in line.

Catching the corner of your eye and giving a small glimmer of a narrowed look, smile never missing.

In the end, you thought a very silly thought:

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

❥❥❥

Your shoes were once more joined by a pair of perfectly shined spades, resting too close for comfort.

“Would you like to play a game with me, miss Y/N?”

Your eyebrows lift at him, you’ve grown quite accustomed to his presence over the weeks. Though this was a change in routine.

“A game? Why?”

“I think it could be quite…beneficial to the both of us.” He smiles that charming smile and leans in closer. “I missed our little meetings, to be quite honest…the lady seemed to prefer the company of someone else over me in the last few days.”

Were those puppy eyes? An upside-down frown? Maybe your silly thought was sillier than you thought. There was something very dark in those eyes hiding behind the playfully innocent expression.

And you were spending time with your colleague, mostly working, but you cherished the presence of someone you didn’t feel would stab you in the eye the moment you looked at him the wrong way. And yes, he was clingy, and no, you didn’t feel that way about him, but at least he was transparent about it.

“Late nights spent around another man, you can imagine how lonely the station could get as she enjoyed his company.” The end of the sentence seemed to lose its usual jovial tone and made way for something far more genuine – and very worrisome to you.

“Or should I say, as he enjoyed hers?”

Was this man, with his ostentatiously perfect slick black hair, cheerful yet foreboding smile, truly accusing you of what you think he was, after everything he put you through?

“So, I think a game could cheer the atmosphere up a bit,” he purred, back to the ever-sweet persona, “and give us both an opportunity to have some fun.”

You are not particularly amused, but find it warily harmless so far. You shift away a bit, straightening your back, pulling your knees together.

“What happens to the winner?”

“Aaah, a woman after my own heart,” he exhales into a grin, steadying himself, though you can see it’s already all a game to him. It has been all along.

He unnoticeably shifts towards you, closing your newly gained distance and laying a hand between the two of you. Just close enough to not touch you. Too close for comfort.

He then leans into you, so close you can smell his perfectly chosen cologne. You feel his breath on your ear as he whispers:

“The winner gets to the location of a certain young man first.”

❥❥❥

You never really played Ddakji before. And it showed.

“Oh, miss Y/N, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Please stop enjoying this so much, I’m trying to concentrate.”

As he hands you the envelope once more, he uses the lack of distance between you to brush your hand and lean into you, once more clouding your mind with his cologne and presence far too close for comfort.

“I am enjoying this, but I’m afraid time is growing short for your little acquaintance. And I would delight in playing with you a little more.”

He pulls away from you as if he said nothing at all, smiling still.

Yet his free hand lingers close, taking its time to brush the hair from your shoulders and place it around your neck.

You pull away with the speed of a startled bird.

“Do excuse me, just making sure the view isn’t obstructed,” his lips purse into the tone as if he were doing you a favour; he points his head towards the envelopes, yet ends up looking at you as the sentence concludes:

“I prefer my games fair.”

❥❥❥

You have no idea how, but you managed the best of three. The man doesn’t look displeased nor too amused, merely smiles and hands you a piece of paper.

Coordinates.

Holding his briefcase in both hands, once more looking more like a suave salesman, he merely leans towards you, eyes firmly holding your gaze. His face is almost plastic in its unbothered expression, but once more, something very dark seems to lurk just below the surface. He speaks as if having your very best interests at heart.

“I suggest you hurry.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Sum of All 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your legs feel empty, like there’s no blood flowing beneath your waist. You walk beside Rogers, feeling as if you might fall on your face at any time. That’s probably not a good idea seeing as you’ve already knocked out twice within the last hour or two.

He stops and steps ahead of you. He points to a door before he pushes it open, “in here.”

You enter as he waits. For a moment, you worry it could be a sinister trick. That he’ll slam the door and lock you in. But why would he do that? Well, why would he beat a man in the middle of the street?

Thinking of it again, you feel nauseous.

You look around the room. There’s a desk with folders stacked on it. The chair looks like it was manufactured during your great grandfather’s war and the rug can’t be much newer. The curtains are damask and the walls are real hardwood.

“It’s... nice,” you say, “vintage. Looks like the floor’s been refinished.”

“You’re not here to discuss the decor,” he retorts.

“Of course,” you agree as you twiddle your fingers. “What exactly am I here for, er, sir?”

“You’re an accountant.” He states.

“I am.”

He sighs and crosses to the desk. You cautiously follow. You could tip over all over again.

“Sir, do you mind if I sit?” You ask.

He just waves a hand toward the chair. You thank him and gratefully claim the seat. Who knew fainting was so exhausting?

“Man named Warren. I need you to tally it all up. Tell me what you find.” He explains.

“Alright, so I’m balancing his ledger,” you nod.

“Sure,” Rogers sniffs and tucks his hands into his pockets. He backs up and paces across the end of the rug. “You need some water? You gonna check out again?”

“Oh, I have some,” you put your briefcase on the desk and pull out your water bottle. “Thank you. That’s super kind. I can, uh, start on all this.”

He turns back to you, “fine.”

You smile as best you can as his hand runs up his lapel and draws your attention. Again, his knuckles fill you with queasiness. The bruises are the cherry on top of this whole messed up situation.

He pulls his hand back and looks at it. You realise he caught you staring. You clear your throat.

“Looks pretty bad,” he remarks.

“Um, yeah. Pretty bad,” you agree softly. “Look like they’re swelling. Could probably use some ice.”

He examines his hand further and clicks his tongue, “probably.” He drops his arm. “Well, get to work. Don’t got time to waste.”

“Got it,” you assure him and reach for a folder.

He goes and you glance up right as he disappears through the door. He might be gone but your anxiety lingers. These are dangerous men, this is a dangerous place.

While you wouldn’t want an old lady like Geraldine caught up in all of this, why did it have to be you? It’s just like Mr. Brenner to be tangled up with criminals. And now you’re looking through promissory letters and gum wrappers with scribbles on them. This isn’t going to be easy, especially without a computer.

Rogers returns. He sits in the leather armchair near the window. He holds a bundle wrapped in a cloth against his hand. It must be ice.

You pull out a receipt. Half of it is illegible beneath the crimson stain. Little droplets trail over the numbers you can kind of make out. Oh.

“Is that blood?” You ask out loud, then feel yourself plunging forward.

Your head hits the desk. You’re a bit foggy but still awake. You gurgle and push yourself up. You fall stiffly back against the chair and it lurches with your weight.

Rogers appears across the desk from you. You stare at him as you grip the armrest and blow out between your lips. He squints as he comes around to your side.

“Hey, sweetheart, stay with me,” he grabs your chin and you whimper. “Eh, don’t--”

He taps your cheek with his fingers. It’s a gentle gesture. His hand is cold from the ice.

“I’m good,” your murmur. “I just... I’m not a violent person.” You carefully touch his wrist and he lets you go. “Not that I’m saying anything about you. Or what happened earlier. I’m just... look at me, right? Just an accountant.”

He nods.

“You think I overreacted,” he intones.

“I didn’t say... it’s none of my business, right?” You move aside the bloody receipt and wheel closer to the desk. “Numbers are my business.”

He hums, “sure.”

You concentrate, or pretend to, on the folder before you. There’s a lot to sort out, and you mean, more than the clutter. Your mind is racing and you can’t quite decipher anything you’re reading with the fear coursing through you.

“I’ll be back,” he says abruptly as he backs away. “Don't leave this room.”

You don’t need him to give the command. You wouldn’t dare wander around this place on your own. You nod, “I won’t, sir.”

He spins on his heel and struts across the office. You only look up as he gets to the door. He leaves and you lean back in the chair. You can’t let your panic take over. The quicker you get through this, the quicker you can get out of here, and hopefully, never ever come back.

You set yourself straight, fixing your posture, and set to your mission. You might not have the most experience, but you’re determined and you do know what you’re doing. All those places that never replied or sent you those template rejections, they have no idea.

You hunker down, filling the margins in the ledger, row by row. You are enthralled the more you do. It’s like a story unfolding before you. Dates, amounts, locations. Huh, well, this might be some bad news. You really don’t want to be the one to deliver it.

Don’t be too eager. That’s only the first folder. You scratch down another number and flinch as something lands on the desk.

You sit up and stare at the paper bag. Rogers watches you across the desk. Your brows twitch in confusion. He huffs and opens the top of the bag.

“Figured you might not pass out if you eat something,” he takes out a wrapped bagel and holds it out. “Cream cheese, sesame seed.”

“Oh, yum, I mean, thanks,” you accept it. “That’s really... considerate.”

“I can be,” his eyes narrow.

“Of course, I wasn’t saying... anything. Just thank you,” you slowly unwrap the bagel.

He takes out his own and sits in the armchair. You peel back the paper and take a quarter of the bagel. You bite into it, careful not to get any crumbs on the desk.

It might not be the best day, very close to the worst, but you can’t complain for a free meal.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #au #mob au #sum of all #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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uwu-bxtch · 5 months ago

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||INHERITANCE ONE|| t.i.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC CONTENT :: SMUT, ino x reader centric, FWB!ino, granny trying to set us up with “fine young men”, ino is kinda a perv

“miss, it’s not that i don’t enjoy conversing with you but, why did you call this meeting.”

two men in suits and a little old lady sit in a study. the woman sat at the head, shakily enjoying some tea as the two men watched her. the blonde was the first to speak, the brunette still pulling out supplies from his briefcase.

“nanami, relax a little. a young man like you shouldn’t be so uptight.”

her statement made the brunette chuckle a bit as he finally closed his briefcase. nanami’s face remained stoic, his right eyebrow twitched lightly. the old woman laughed before letting out a long sigh to continue the matter at hand.

“as you guys know, i’m getting old and i don’t want to stay in this big house anymore.”

“you want to sell?” nanami asks, getting ready to pull out financial papers. the old lady holds her hand up to stop him from rummaging through his files.

“no. hiromi, i want to write my will. i’m giving everything to my granddaughter.”

“everything? money, land, properties, even business ownership?” hiromi asks, clicking his pen and scribbling notes on a legal pad.

“mhm, all of it. i’ll call her and we can arrange a meeting for all the legal signatures; i just wanted to make you guys aware of my plans.”

hiromi continued to scribble on his pad, nanami ended up pulling out his laptop and started typing away.

“where would you go, miss?”

“i’m old and lonely, i want to go to a retirement home.”

nanami gave her a soft smile. “well, i’m sure you’ll pick the best one.”

“if you don’t mind me asking, why is this the first time we’re hearing of this granddaughter?” hiromi asks, eyes lifting from his paper.

“ah, well, she’s been through a lot and lives in the city. doesn’t get to visit often.” she says, a small smile appearing on her face as thoughts of you are appearing in her mind.

“oh you guys would love her, so beautiful and kind. reminds me of how i was at her age. she just won’t settle down, you know how you young people are. too focused on your careers to stop and smell the roses. i might have to set her up with one of you.”

the old woman sent the two men a smirk; nanami loudly cleared his throat while hiromi just let out another chuckle.

“i’m sure she’s lovely, we’ll be looking forward to seeing her at our next meeting.”

the two men stood up and went to either side of the woman, helping her up out of the chair. she led them to the front door, saying their goodbyes. she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts before clicking your name.

___

“…and he didn’t even say th-thank you.” you pant, arching your back even further as you recount the hellish day you’ve had. the man underneath you hummed in acknowledgment, reaching up to play with your tit and give it a gentle squeeze.

you bite your lip, eyes rolling back as you continue to bounce in his cock. his other hand rests on the small of your back, firmly rubbing up and down and giving your ass a nice squeeze every so often.

“yeah? what else happened today?” ino asked, tone sweet as honey while absentmindedly rolling your nipple between his pointer and thumb. he looks at you like an adoring puppy as he watched your fucked out face contorting into various expressions of pleasure. his thick cock was hitting just the right spot, causing your legs to tremble every time you rise and fall.

“a-and then the printer broke.” the knot in your stomach gets tighter, making you squeeze your eyes shut and lean forward and rest your forehead on his. The sensation immediately making you forget why you were upset. you sit all the way down, his cock nuzzled all the way deep inside you as you gently grind.

“fuuuck, ino.” you moan. he lets out a low chuckle as he angles his head to kiss along your neck and down to your shoulder.

“you need some help, pretty?” ino asks, his other hand finally trailing down your back to rest on your asscheek. you can only moan in response as both his hands spread you open further and he gently lifts you halfway off his cock before slamming you back down.

his continuous jabs on your sweet spot make you dizzy as waves of pleasure rush through your body. his muscles flex while he bounces you up and down on his dick. the sound of skin slapping fills the room, mixed with your whines and his pants.

“that’s it, fuck, there you go.” ino grunts, hips stuttering a bit once he feels the sting of your nails gripping his bare shoulders. the slight pain sends shivers down his spine, his breath going ragged.

“yes! please, please, please, pl—” you practically chant before cutting yourself off with a high pitched moan, finally being pushed over the edge.

your pussy has a death grip on his cock as he slows down, letting you ride out your high. ino looks up at your worn out face, skin basically glistening from sweat, and moves one of his hands to the back of your head to pull you in for a gentle kiss.

all movements come to a slow stop, the both of you catching your breaths.

“where do you want it, sweets?” ino whispers, slowly pulling his hard dick out of your pussy. you let out a quiet whine at the empty feeling.

“wherever you want.”

he nods and leans in for another kiss before adjusting your positions. he gently lays you on your back as he hovers over you, knees on either side of your hips. he stares at you with hooded eyes, sitting on his heels and slowly stroking his cock.

“f-fuck, you’re so pretty ya’know?” he rambles as his hand continues to pump himself. still tired and barely recovering from an orgasm, all you can do is hum in response.

with every flick of his wrist, his grip tightens more as he reaches the tip. he bucks his hips as he takes some time to rub his thumb on his slit.

“o-oh shit. push them together for me, please.” he moans out, strokes going faster as he gets closer.

you raise your hands to your chest, pushing your tits together per his request. you look up at him with hooded eyes and the sight makes his dick twitch.

“you got this, c’mon, cum for me.” you coo at him, voice a little raspy from your moans.

“fuck, yes. i’m cumming, i’m cu—ah!”

his hot white seed shoots onto your tits as he continues to milk himself dry. he slowly comes to a stop, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. this time, he’s the one to lean down and press his forehead against yours.

he cups your cheek with one hand while his other hand travels to your breasts. he gathers his cum with his fingers and brings them up to your lips. opening your mouth at his silent request, he rests his cum covered fingers inside your mouth. you hum and suck around his fingers before he removes them to capture your lips with his own once more.

you both moan into the kiss, the taste of himself on your lips causing ino to shudder a bit.

a nice shower and some takeout later, the two of you sit on your couch, binging some trashy reality tv show. ino’s really into it, making you giggle at his exaggerated reactions after some particularly juicy drama happens.

“and that’s how you know he is trashy because why--” ino’s rant was interrupted by your loud ringtone.

“hello? hi granny, is everything okay?”

“hi sweetpea, everything is fine.”

“oh okay, what’s up?”

“i wanted to ask if you could visit sometime, i have some awfully great news.”

“a visit could fit into my schedule, what was the news?”

“i’m giving everything to you.”

“y-you’re what?”

“i’ll discuss more with you once you get here, please do so soon.”

before you could ask another question she hung up. you let out a shaky exhale, slowly turning to ino who had been staring at you the whole conversation.

“what happened?”

“i…i have to go to my grandmother’s place.” you mumbled, eyebrows slightly furrowed. you quickly stand to make your way to the room, puling out a suitcase once you make it to your closet.

“is she okay?” he asks, standing up to follow you.

“yeah, it’s just that she said she’s giving me everything.”

your back is to him as you throw clothes into the suitcase. ino stands at the door, watching u with confusion in his eyes.

“when are you leaving? are you going to come back?” he asks, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of your bed.

you pause for a bit, cursing under your breath. this is too much all at once, you were barely able to process what she said before she hung up. you turn to ino, dropping some clothes into the suitcase.

“i’m going there this weekend to see what’s up. i’m not sure when i’ll be back, don’t wait for me.”

ino’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean don’t wait?”

“i’m not sure what my granny has planned, but i don’t wanna keep you hanging if i end up staying. you should find someone else to see.”

“are you sure, because i ca—” you interrupt him with a hand in his face, sitting next to him on the edge.

“i’m sure there’s tons of other women just waiting to get piped by you, don’t let them wait because of me.” you say, jokingly elbowing him. he let out a chuckle.

“okay, well if you need anything you have my number. i’m serious.”

you nod while laughing. “do you mind helping me pack?” ino nodded and shot straight up.

“only if i get to keep a pair of your panties, you know, for memories.”

you playfully roll your eyes as you stood up. “sure, whatever, you freak.”

a/n :: this is for THE ino fan ever, @inciseleviathan , i hoped yall enjoy. i’m trying to get more consistent with posts i swear. this series kinda means the world to me so please treat her nicely 😩no smut in the next chapter but we’ll meet more characters.

#dee.inheritance #dee.fics #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fic #ino takuma #takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma smut #takuma ino smut #takuma ino x you #ino takuma x you

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thequeenofneverland1 · 26 days ago

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The Salesman////Temptation's Game

Anonymous requests: can you write a dark story of the Salesman thank you

Warnings: Mature Themes, Sexual Content, Violence, Dark Romance, Mental Health, perhaps some No-Consensual, Criminal Activity

You and Jun-ho have been best friends since childhood, always sticking by each other through thick and thin. From the days of running around the neighborhood as kids to navigating the challenges of adulthood, your bond has remained unshakable. You were there for him during the happiest moments, like when he passed his police exams, and during the hardest times, especially when his brother, In-ho, suddenly disappeared without a trace.

Ever since In-ho’s disappearance, you’ve watched Jun-ho tirelessly search for answers, never giving up hope that he would one day find his brother. You were there to listen to his frustrations, to help him sift through clues, and to remind him that he wasn’t alone in his quest for the truth. No matter how much time passed, you stood by his side, offering your unwavering support as he searched for the one person who had always been his role model.

But as Jun-ho’s investigation led him down a dangerous path, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the truth he was chasing might be more devastating than either of you could imagine.

It’s late evening, and you’re leaning against the cold metal wall of the train station, lost in thought while watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The air is thick with the hum of commuters rushing by, but you remain unfazed a picture of cool confidence in your leather jacket, one boot propped against the wall, the other firmly planted on the ground. The faint scent of rain lingers, mixing with the electric buzz of neon lights.

Suddenly, a man in an impeccably tailored suit steps into your line of sight, his charming smile practically gleaming. He’s holding a briefcase, eyes twinkling with mischief as he approaches. “Excuse me,” he says, his voice silky and charismatic. “Would you be interested in playing a game?” Without hesitation, he flashes a set of those infamous red and blue Ddakji tiles, the slap echoing through the station as if to entice you into his twisted game.

You arch an eyebrow, lips curving into a sly, dangerous smile. Slowly, you reach into your jacket, pulling out your detective badge with a practiced flick of your wrist, letting it glint under the harsh station lights. “Detective Y/n,” you announce coolly, voice dripping with authority and just a hint of amusement. “So here’s the deal you can turn your handsome self around and walk away, or I might just have to shoot you and ruin that nice suit.”

His smirk doesn’t waver, if anything, it deepens. He chuckles, eyeing you like you’re an interesting puzzle he wants to solve. “Now, now, detective. No need for violence. I was simply offering an opportunity.”

You narrow your eyes, tucking your badge back into your pocket but keeping your guard up. “Yeah? Well, I don’t play games with shady men in overpriced suits. So unless you want to be dragged down to the station for questioning, I suggest you get lost.”

For a moment, he just studies you, as if debating whether to push his luck. Then, with a small chuckle, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fair enough, detective. Another time, perhaps.”

A few days pass, The city was alive with neon lights and the distant hum of traffic as you strolled down the bustling streets, your senses always sharp, always aware. The scent of rain lingered in the air, the pavement still damp from an earlier downpour, reflecting the glow of passing headlights. It had been a long night, and all you wanted was to get back to your apartment, pour yourself a stiff drink, and not think about anything for a few hours.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

You rounded a corner, and just as you did, you collided with something no, someone. Strong, solid, and annoyingly familiar.

A smooth chuckle rumbled in the chest in front of you, and as you looked up, there he was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome from the train station. That same damn smirk curled on his lips, the kind that spelled trouble in a language you didn’t have the patience to translate.

“Detective,” he drawled, his voice like silk and sin. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

You exhaled sharply, already done with whatever game he thought he was playing. Stepping back, you crossed your arms and fixed him with a hard stare. “I’m not interested in getting into a game that gets people killed.”

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable amusement, maybe, or something far more dangerous. “That’s a shame,” he mused, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive suit. “Because you look like someone who plays to win.”

Before you could respond, your phone vibrated in your pocket, the name Jun-ho flashing across the screen. Instinctively, you reached for it, ready to answer because if your best friend was calling this late, it wasn’t for something trivial.

But just as you pulled it out, a warm hand moved faster than you expected.

In one swift motion, the salesman plucked the phone from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sent a sharp jolt up your arm. With a lazy, almost arrogant smirk, he glanced at the screen then, before you could protest, he hit the side button and silenced the call.

Your jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

He tilted his head slightly, stepping just close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne rich, expensive, intoxicating. He held your gaze, his expression unreadable, before slipping your phone back into the pocket of your leather jacket with slow, deliberate ease.

“Something tells me your little friend can wait,” he murmured, voice low, knowing.

Your fingers itched to reach for your gun not to use it, necessarily, but just enough to remind him that you weren’t someone to be played with. Instead, you took a step forward, closing the space between you until there was barely a breath between your bodies.

“You do that again,” you said, voice cold as steel, “and I won’t just shoot your handsome ass. “I’ll make sure no one ever finds the body.”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, it almost looked like he enjoyed the threat. “Now that,” he murmured, his voice like a whisper against your skin, “is a game I’d love to see you play.”

Your phone buzzed again, vibrating against your chest. This time, you didn’t hesitate you snatched it from your pocket, stepping away from him as you hit answer.

“Jun-ho,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“You okay?” Jun-ho’s voice came through the line, concern laced in every syllable.

Your eyes flicked back to the salesman, who was still watching you like he had all the time in the world. You let out a slow breath, steadying yourself before responding.

“Yeah,” you muttered, eyes locked onto the man who had just inserted himself into your night. “I’m fine.”

Even if you weren’t entirely sure that was true.

The tension between you and the suited stranger was like a live wire sparking, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. His smirk hadn’t faded since the moment he first laid eyes on you, and the way he moved, slow and deliberate, told you one thing: he liked playing with fire. Too bad for him you were the fire.

Before you could react, his hands were on you, swift and confident. He grabbed your wrist and spun you, pressing you against the cold brick wall of the alley, caging you in with his body. His breath was warm against your skin, his scent intoxicating, and the way his dark eyes flickered with amusement only fueled the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

But he made one mistake he underestimated you.

With a sharp twist, you broke free from his hold, using his own momentum against him. In a blink, you flipped the situation, shoving him against the wall instead. His back hit the rough brick with a dull thud, and before he could react, you grabbed his tie, yanking him down until your lips were a breath away from his.

“Let’s play a game,” you murmured, voice like silk, your grip on his tie tightening just enough to remind him who was in control.

His smirk only deepened, and you could feel it against your lips. His hands rested at his sides, as if he wasn’t fazed by the sudden shift in power. If anything, he looked amused. Intrigued. Like he was enjoying every second of this.

“I’d love to,” he murmured, his voice a low hum of anticipation. “But don’t you think your boyfriend is going to get jealous?”

Your grip on his tie didn’t loosen, but the corner of your lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” you purred, tugging him even closer, your noses practically brushing, “who said I play by anyone’s rules?”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, his hands finally moving one brushing lightly against your waist, his touch deliberate, teasing. His other hand traced the edge of your jaw, his fingers barely grazing your skin, but the heat of his touch sent a slow, deliberate shiver down your spine.

“You really are something else, detective,” he mused, voice like sin, like he was savoring every second of this twisted little game between you.

You smirked, your fingers still curled around his tie as you slowly, deliberately loosened it just enough to remind him that this was your game. Your rules.

“And you,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly, letting your lips hover just close enough to make him ache for more, “have no idea what you just signed up for.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, but his confidence never wavered. “Then by all means,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against yours, “show me.”

Danger. Lust. Power. It crackled in the air between you, an unspoken challenge neither of you was willing to back down from.

And something told you this was only the beginning.

Your grip on his tie remained firm, your smirk never faltering as you let the silence stretch between you, the air thick with tension. You could feel his breath against your lips, the heat radiating off him like an unspoken challenge. He was waiting waiting for you to make a move, to push this dangerous game further.

But you weren’t about to make it easy for him.

With a slow, deliberate tug, you loosened his tie just enough to slip your fingers beneath the silk, dragging it against his throat in a way that made his jaw tense. Your eyes flickered up to his, dark with amusement and something else something raw, something untamed.

You leaned in just a fraction closer, your lips a whisper away from his, the teasing warmth of your breath making his fingers twitch where they hovered near your waist. His patience was slipping you could feel it in the way his chest rose and fell just a little too quickly, in the way his hands flexed like he was resisting the urge to grab you.

And then, just when he thought you might close the space between you when he thought you might finally give in you smirked.

“See you later, man in the suit,” you murmured, your voice smooth as velvet, dripping with amusement.

Then, just as quickly as you had ensnared him, you released your hold on his tie, stepping back with a slow, deliberate grace that left him standing there, jaw clenched, frustration evident in the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

He let out a low, frustrated groan, tilting his head back against the wall for a brief second before fixing you with a look that was equal parts exasperated and hungry.

“You’re going to be the death of me, detective,” he muttered, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name but you liked it.

You shot him a wink over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying just enough to make sure he knew you were still in control of this game.

“Try to keep up,” you called over your shoulder, your voice playful, taunting.

And as you disappeared into the neon-lit streets, you could still feel his eyes on you, still hear the way he exhaled sharply, like he was already plotting his next move.

He wasn’t done with you.

And you weren’t done with him either.

The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond your window. You had finally kicked off your boots, poured yourself a glass of whiskey, and let the weight of the night settle over you. But before you could even take a sip, a sharp, deliberate knock echoed through your apartment.

Your eyes narrowed. It was late too late for visitors.

Setting your glass down, you moved toward the door, your hand instinctively brushing against the gun holstered at your hip. With a slow, measured breath, you cracked the door open, ready for a fight.

But instead of a threat, you found him.

The man in the suit.

Standing there, infuriatingly calm, that same cocky smirk playing on his lips. And in his hands? A bouquet of your favorite flowers, wrapped in dark ribbon, looking completely out of place in the hands of a man who radiated danger.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing over your chest, your expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice edged with suspicion. Then, your eyes flicked to the flowers, your smirk returning. “And how the hell do you know where I live?”

He chuckled, low and smooth, his dark eyes gleaming with something wicked as he stepped closer, just enough to test your boundaries.

“To find someone like you?” He tilted his head, his voice rich with amusement. “It’s easy.”

Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach for the gun at your side not because you were afraid, but because he was playing a game only you were supposed to control. And the fact that he had managed to track you down? That meant he was better at this than you had given him credit for.

Slowly, you stepped forward, closing the space between you, your lips curving into something sharp. “You don’t seem like the type to send flowers,” you mused, plucking one from the bouquet, twirling it between your fingers. “What’s the catch?”

He exhaled a soft laugh, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “No catch,” he said, handing you the bouquet like it was an offering. “Just a gesture.”

You took it, but your eyes never left his. “You don’t strike me as the generous type.”

He leaned in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. “And you don’t strike me as the type to be easily impressed,” he murmured.

You smirked, stepping even closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m not.”

He exhaled a slow, knowing breath, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to touch you but was waiting waiting for you to make the next move.

For a moment, the silence between you crackled, thick and heavy with something dangerous.

Then, you tilted your head, lips just a breath away from his. “If you’re trying to play me,” you whispered, voice smooth as silk, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than flowers.”

His smirk deepened, his voice dropping to something darker, something almost hungry.

“Oh, detective,” he murmured, “who said I was playing?”

You tilted your head, the faintest smirk curling on your lips as you twirled the flower between your fingers. The tension between you was razor-sharp, a game neither of you had officially agreed to play, yet here you were locked in a battle of wits, temptation, and something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

You took a slow step forward, closing the distance until the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint floral scent of the bouquet he had brought. His posture was relaxed, casual even, but you weren’t fooled. He was watching you carefully, every muscle coiled like he was ready for whatever move you made next.

“So,” you drawled, voice laced with amusement, “are you here to warn me about your little game?” You arched a brow, tilting your chin up slightly. “Or is this some kind of last-ditch effort to charm your way out of trouble?”

His smirk deepened, those dark, knowing eyes flickering over you like he was memorizing every inch, every detail. He took his time before responding, letting the silence stretch between you like a slow-burning fuse. Then, with a deliberate slowness that sent a pulse of something dangerous through you, he leaned in just enough that his breath ghosted against your cheek.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmured, voice smooth as velvet, rich and intoxicating. “You and me. Dinner. Your favorite restaurant.”

Your smirk didn’t falter, but your pulse quickened. He knew where you lived. Now, he knew your favorite place to eat. This wasn’t just a game to him he had done his research.

You let out a soft chuckle, tilting your head slightly so that your lips were a breath away from his. “Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, the warmth of it sending a slow shiver down your spine. “That’s only if your boyfriend lets you.”

That cocky smirk of his was still in place, but there was something more behind it something teasing, something deliberate. He wanted to see how you’d react, how far he could push before you snapped.

A slow smile curved your lips as you reached up, your fingers grazing the silk of his tie once more, toying with it just enough to remind him that you were still in control. Then, in one sharp tug, you pulled him closer so close that your lips almost touched, just barely out of reach, teasing him with the proximity.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you purred, your voice dripping with dangerous amusement. “If I had a boyfriend, trust me he’d know better than to get in my way.”

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw it the flicker of something uncontrolled beneath that smooth, confident exterior. Lust? Amusement? Obsession? Maybe a little of all three.

His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to reach for you, to break the thin line between control and chaos.

You let the moment stretch just a little longer, let him want it, let him ache for it.

Then, just as quickly as you had pulled him in, you let go of his tie, stepping back with an infuriatingly slow smirk. “Pick me up at eight.”

Then, without another word, you turned on your heel, walking away and leaving him standing in your doorway frustrated, intrigued, and, if you had to guess, already planning his next move.

Just as you turned to walk away, a firm hand caught your wrist, halting you mid-step. His grip wasn’t forceful, just enough to make you pause, to make your pulse spike for a fraction of a second before you turned your head back to face him.

His dark eyes burned with something dangerous—something hungry. And before you could throw out a snarky remark, he stepped closer, closing the distance so effortlessly that you barely had time to react.

You felt the heat of him first, the teasing brush of his breath against your skin. Then, in one slow, deliberate motion, he dipped his head down his lips ghosting just beside the corner of yours, so close you could almost taste him.

The contact was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a slow, intoxicating heat spiraling through you. He wasn’t just playing with fire he was tempting it.

His lips lingered just near your jawline, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement and something wicked, “dinner will end with one of us in handcuffs.”

He pulled back just enough so that your eyes met, his smirk widening as his fingers lazily trailed down your wrist before finally releasing you.

“Hopefully,” he added, tilting his head slightly, “it’s you.”

Your breath hitched, just for a split second. Not because you were caught off guard, but because he was good better than you had expected. He knew exactly how to press, how to push, how to unravel just enough to leave you wanting more.

But two could play this game.

Your smirk returned, slow and deliberate as you leaned in, closing that infinitesimal gap between you until your lips barely grazed his ear.

“If you think you can get me in cuffs,” you purred, voice smooth as silk, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

His breath stuttered for half a second a tiny, barely noticeable reaction, but you caught it. You felt it.

And you loved it.

You pulled back, watching as his smirk faltered just slightly, his jaw clenching like he was restraining himself from doing something reckless.

Good. Let him burn.

“Eight o’clock,” you reminded him, your voice light and teasing, as if you weren’t still feeling the ghost of his lips near yours. “Don’t be late.”

Then, before he could retaliate, you stepped back into your apartment and shut the door with a soft, deliberate click leaving him standing there, jaw tight, frustration evident in the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

And as you leaned against the door, heart pounding just a little too fast, a slow smile curled on your lips.

Because for the first time in a long time, you had met someone who might just be dangerous enough to keep up with you.

The dim lighting of the restaurant cast flickering shadows over the table, the candlelight barely disguising the undeniable tension sitting between you and the man in the suit. He was as effortlessly composed as ever, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable something dangerous. He hadn’t touched his drink yet, instead watching you like a predator assessing its prey, amused, patient, waiting.

Your phone buzzed against the table, Jun-ho’s name flashing across the screen. For a moment, you considered answering, but something about the way the man in front of you was watching made you hesitate. He didn’t need to say a word you already knew what he was thinking.

With a slow smirk, you flipped the phone over, letting the call go to voicemail.

His smirk deepened. “Ignoring the outside world already? I’m flattered.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, letting your gaze drag over him with deliberate slowness. “How does it feel?” you asked, voice smooth as silk. “To be nothing more than a servant in a game that gets people killed?”

His expression didn’t falter. If anything, the corner of his mouth lifted, as if he had been waiting for you to ask.

“It pays well,” he said easily, tilting his head. “And it’s entertaining. Though I have to say—” He leaned forward, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not nearly as entertaining as you.”

You scoffed, swirling your drink in your glass. “That supposed to make me blush?”

“Not quite,” he mused. “But you’re awfully quick to judge, detective. You sit across from me, ask me questions like you’re building a case yet you haven’t done a damn thing about it.” His eyes flickered with something dark, something taunting. “No gun pulled. No arrest made.” He tilted his head, his smirk turning downright sinful. “Unless, of course, you want to put me in handcuffs. Or—” He leaned in just a fraction closer, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Would you prefer to be handcuffed yourself? That’s your thing, isn’t it, little girl?”

Heat curled low in your stomach at the way he said it like a challenge, like a dare, like he was waiting for you to crack.

Your grip tightened around your glass, but you didn’t let him see the way his words affected you. Instead, you smirked, tilting your head slightly, letting your lips part just enough to make his gaze flicker downward for just a second.

“You talk a big game,” you murmured, placing your glass down and leaning in, close enough that your lips nearly brushed his. “But if you really think you could handle me in cuffs—” your fingers trailed along the table, inching toward his wrist, “then you really don’t know who you’re playing with.”

His breath hitched subtle, but there. And then, in an instant, he caught your wrist before you could reach him, his grip firm, controlled. He smirked, his thumb brushing dangerously slow against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulse.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dark, teasing, intoxicating. “I think I know exactly who I’m playing with.”

And just like that, the game had only just begun.

The air between you was thick with tension, the kind that teetered on the edge of something dangerous, something forbidden. You should’ve pulled away the moment his fingers brushed against your knee, creeping up with slow, deliberate purpose. But you didn’t.

Instead, you let him.

His touch was light at first teasing, testing before he gripped your thigh just hard enough to make your breath hitch. The table between you felt nonexistent as he leaned in, his smirk curling against the flickering candlelight.

“Detective,” he murmured, his voice dripping with something dark, something almost possessive. His fingers trailed higher, gripping the bare skin of your thigh beneath the slit of your dress. “Why don’t you leave that boring little job of yours and join me?”

You arched a brow, but you didn’t move away. His grip on you tightened, his thumb tracing slow, burning circles against your inner thigh.

“Join you?” you echoed, amusement laced in your voice.

He hummed, his lips dangerously close to yours now, his breath fanning against your skin. “Be mine,” he whispered. “My wife. My partner in crime.” His lips barely grazed your jaw as he spoke, sending a slow, intoxicating shiver down your spine. “Just imagine it you and me, working together, ruling the game from the inside out. A power couple that no one could ever touch.”

His voice was hypnotic, laced with a promise of something bigger, something darker. And for a brief second, you let yourself imagine it what it would be like to stand beside him, to burn the world down together.

But then, just as quickly, you snapped back to reality.

You let out a low chuckle, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze, your lips still only inches from his. “And what makes you think I’d do that?” you murmured, voice taunting, your fingers now trailing up his wrist, nails grazing against his skin ever so slightly.

His smirk deepened, eyes dark and unwavering. “Because I want you,” he said, his voice low, predatory. “And you want me just as much.”

Before you could respond, he moved fast, deliberate.

One hand shot to the back of your neck, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you into him with a rough, claiming kiss.

It was nothing soft, nothing gentle. It was raw, hungry like he had been waiting for this moment since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips crushed against yours, demanding, full of fire, and you met him with just as much force, your fingers tangling into his suit, pulling him closer.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and primal, as if he had finally gotten what he wanted. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head just the way he liked, deepening the kiss as his teeth scraped against your bottom lip.

The heat between you was unbearable now, intoxicating and reckless. He tasted like whiskey and sin, like a man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted and right now, what he wanted was you.

You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve pushed him away, told him this was a mistake.

But instead, you let him consume you.

And in that moment, as your breath mixed with his, as his hands explored your body with a dangerous kind of reverence, you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t playing the game anymore.

You were in it.

The kiss left you both breathless, the taste of sin lingering between your lips as he finally pulled back, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His grip on your thigh remained firm, possessive, his fingers idly tracing slow, burning circles into your skin like he was claiming you like he had already decided you were his.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but your smirk never faltered. You met his gaze, eyes locked in a silent battle of control, of dominance.

And then, he spoke low, dark, his voice dripping with something wicked.

“Your place,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips, “or mine?” He tilted his head slightly, studying you, watching for the slightest reaction. His smirk deepened. “Or perhaps…” He trailed his fingers just a little higher up your thigh, pressing into the soft skin in a way that made your breath hitch. “…you’d rather have me take you right here, in the bathroom of this fancy little restaurant.”

Your fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, your nails grazing the surface just enough to remind yourself that you were still in control still playing this game.

But damn him. He was good.

Too good.

He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he watched you, the way he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours as he whispered, “I could have you against the sink, your dress hiked up, my hands on your body while you try to stay quiet.” His thumb brushed against your inner thigh again, barely skimming the edge of where you really wanted to feel him.

A sharp breath left your lips before you could stop it.

His smirk widened, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. “You like the idea, don’t you?”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the way your pulse quickened at his words. Instead, you smirked, tilting your head as you reached for his tie, wrapping the silk fabric around your fingers and giving it a slow, deliberate tug.

“You talk too much,” you murmured, your lips hovering over his. “All these pretty little words but tell me, can you back them up?”

His eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as if he was this close to losing his control. And god, you wanted him to lose it. You wanted to see what happened when this man, so composed, so dangerous, finally unraveled.

His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching against your skin like he was debating whether to throw you over his shoulder and take you somewhere right now.

Then, in one sharp motion, he pulled you even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Pick one, detective. Or I’ll pick for you.”

His voice was a promise. A threat.

And fuck, you liked it.

You didn’t hesitate. With a wicked smirk, you curled your fingers tighter around his tie, yanking him down so fast that he barely had time to react. The sudden shift made his breath hitch, his lips parting slightly as his body tensed beneath your grasp.

Your other hand trailed up his chest, slow and deliberate, until your palm rested flat against his racing heartbeat. His smirk had faltered, just barely, his dark eyes locked onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey only this time, he wasn’t sure who the real hunter was.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jaw as you whispered, voice dripping with sin, “Why don’t you not pick for me, sweetie?” Your tone was low, sultry, taunting. Every word was deliberate, designed to test him, to push him closer to the edge.

His hands, which had been gripping your thighs with restrained control, twitched at your words. You could feel the shift in him, the dangerous flicker in his eyes, the way his breath deepened like he was holding himself back from something dark, something reckless.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice now lower, rougher. His hands slid up, gripping your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you of the power he could have over you if you let him. “You’re playing with fire, detective.”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening as your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing. “And yet, you’re the one burning for me.”

His jaw clenched, his control slipping further by the second. The tension between you was suffocating, thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, twisting it just enough to make your breath hitch not in pain, but in anticipation. His lips were at your ear in an instant, his voice dark, dangerous, intoxicating.

“You’re mistaken,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “I don’t burn for anyone. But you—” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his smirk returning, sharp and predatory. “You’re tempting me, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens when I stop holding back.”

The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to break first. Instead, you smirked again, tilting your chin up defiantly.

“Then stop holding back,” you taunted, your voice nothing but a breath between you.

For a second, neither of you moved. The entire world around you faded into nothing but the dark, heavy air between you, the silent battle of control hanging by a fragile thread.

Then, just as he was about to make his move, the waiter’s voice interrupted polite, oblivious.

“Would you like to see the dessert menu?”

The tension shattered like glass.

You let out a low chuckle, stepping back just slightly, releasing his tie with a slow, taunting drag of your fingers.

He exhaled sharply, amusement flickering in his darkened gaze as he ran a hand through his hair, regaining just a sliver of his composure.

“Check, please,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours.

The night was far from over.

The game was only just beginning.

The moment the bill was paid, he stood, adjusting his suit with an effortless confidence that only made him more dangerous. He extended his hand toward you, his smirk barely concealed, his dark eyes gleaming with something raw, something unspoken.

“Come,” he murmured, voice low and commanding.

You didn’t hesitate.

You slid your fingers into his, allowing him to lead you through the restaurant with the kind of quiet authority that made people instinctively step aside. No one questioned it, no one even looked twice the two of you walked like you owned the place.

And in a way, you did.

The second you stepped into the private restroom, he wasted no time. The door clicked shut, and before you could fully process it, the sharp sound of the lock twisting into place echoed through the small, dimly lit space.

A slow, dangerous smirk curled at your lips.

“You locked the door,” you murmured, feigning surprise as you leaned back against the marble counter. “Afraid someone might catch us?”

He turned to you slowly, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his forearms in a way that sent heat curling low in your stomach. His movements were deliberate, calculated like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

He stalked toward you, his footsteps unhurried, filled with purpose. “No,” he said smoothly, placing his hands on either side of the counter, effectively caging you in. His body pressed just close enough for you to feel his heat, for you to be aware of every breath he took. “I locked it because I don’t like interruptions.”

You tilted your chin up defiantly, refusing to be the first to break. “Is that so?”

His eyes darkened. “Mm.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Or maybe…I just don’t trust myself to be gentle with you.��

A shiver ran down your spine.

Before you could respond, he moved.

One hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other tangling into your hair as he tilted your head back. His lips hovered over yours, teasing, taunting, his breath fanning over your parted lips.

“You want this,” he murmured, his voice rough, dark. “Admit it.”

Your smirk widened.

Instead of answering, you grabbed the knot of his tie and yanked him down, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but soft.

It was raw, desperate, dangerous.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he pressed you harder against the counter, his grip tightening as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before he bit down, not enough to hurt just enough to make you gasp.

He took full advantage, deepening the kiss, devouring you like he had been starving for this. His hands roamed over your body, possessive, unrelenting, like he was memorizing every curve, every sharp inhale you took.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his breathing heavy. His forehead rested against yours as his fingers traced down your arm, finding your wrist.

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips as he whispered, “Now, detective…”

He lifted your wrist between you, pulling something out of his pocket.

The soft click of metal against metal sent a shiver through you.

“Who do you think is getting handcuffed tonight?”

Your breath was still uneven, your body still pressed between him and the counter when you heard it the soft, unmistakable click of metal.

Your eyes flickered downward, and there they were. Your handcuffs. The same pair you always kept tucked in your purse, now dangling from his fingers like a prize. Like he had been waiting for this moment all night.

Your smirk didn’t falter, but curiosity flickered in your gaze as you tilted your head slightly. “How did you know I had those?”

His lips curled into a dark, satisfied smirk. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, slowly spinning the cuffs around his finger. “I know everything about you.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to let him see that he had caught you off guard. Instead, you leaned in, your lips just barely brushing against his, your voice dropping into something dangerously soft.

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Then tell me do you know what I plan to do with them?”

His smirk widened, his free hand tracing a slow, burning path down your side before settling at your hip. He applied just enough pressure to make you feel owned, yet not enough to trap you not yet.

“I have a few ideas,” he murmured, his voice low, dark, dripping with sinful promises. “But I’d rather you show me.”

His words sent a delicious shiver through you.

Then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist fast, deliberate. With a practiced flick of his fingers, cold metal snapped shut around one wrist.

Your breath hitched, but your smirk never faded.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You didn’t really think you were the one in control, did you?”

Your pulse spiked, but you let out a soft chuckle, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Funny,” you purred, tugging at the cuffs slightly. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

His eyes darkened. The game had just taken a new turn.

The moment the cold metal clamped around your wrist, you felt it the sharp thrill of danger. The shift in power.

Your smirk didn’t waver, but your pulse betrayed you, thrumming wildly beneath your skin as he tightened his grip, guiding your other wrist toward him with agonizing slowness. Testing you. Taunting you.

“Hands in front?” you teased, cocking a brow as you felt the second cuff brush against your skin. “How considerate.”

His smirk was dark, knowing. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “Who said I was feeling considerate?”

Click.

The second cuff locked into place, the finality of the sound hanging thick in the air between you. Your hands were bound now. Vulnerable. At his mercy.

And yet, the way he was looking at you the slow, deliberate way his fingers dragged up your forearm, tracing the edge of the cuffs told you that he was the one fighting for control. That he was the one dangerously close to unraveling.

You inhaled deeply, stepping closer despite your restrained wrists, pressing against him just enough to feel the warmth of his body. “You seem proud of yourself,” you murmured, tilting your chin up. “Tell me are you going to arrest me now?”

His grip tightened slightly, his fingers brushing over the metal as he leaned in, lips barely grazing your ear.

“No,” he whispered, voice dark and smooth as silk. “I’m going to ruin you.”

A slow shiver trailed down your spine, but you didn’t flinch. You smirked.

“Oh?” Your voice was honeyed, teasing. “And what makes you think I won’t enjoy it?”

His breath hitched just slightly a nearly imperceptible flicker of restraint snapping but then his fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You already are,” he murmured, his smirk pressing against yours, lips inches apart.

The tension was unbearable now, suffocating in the best possible way. The air crackled between you, heavy with the weight of something dangerous.

Your wrists strained slightly against the cuffs as you exhaled slowly, deliberately, meeting his gaze with a smirk just as wicked as his.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you whispered.

The challenge was set.

And neither of you were backing down.

The sharp knock at the door barely registered before you moved, instinctively shifting to answer but he was faster.

Before you could take a single step, his hands were on you rough, unyielding. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back against him, while his other hand slid down, lifting your bound wrists just enough to remind you of your helplessness.

You barely had time to process it, to let out anything more than a sharp gasp before he was inside you.

No warning. No hesitation.

Your body tensed, electricity shooting through your veins, a sharp inhale barely muffled as you instinctively bit down on your bottom lip, trying failing to suppress the sudden, overwhelming heat pooling in your core.

Another knock.

Your breath hitched. You clenched your jaw, trying desperately to stay silent, but the feeling of him hot, thick, stretching you wide with a single ruthless thrust made it impossible.

His smirk pressed against the side of your neck, a low, knowing chuckle vibrating against your skin.

“What’s wrong, detective?” he murmured, his voice silk and sin against your ear. “Cat got your tongue?”

You let out a shaky exhale, your fingers curling into tight fists as he stayed still, deep inside you, letting you feel every inch of him.

Another knock louder this time.

“Hello?” A muffled voice called from the other side. “Is everything alright in there?”

His grip on your waist tightened. “Go ahead,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear, mocking you. “Answer them.”

Your eyes snapped open, a rush of defiance surging through you. He wanted to play? Fine. You’d play.

Forcing your voice to remain steady, you parted your lips, prepared to respond but that bastard chose that exact moment to move.

A slow, deep thrust.

Your knees nearly buckled, the sensation sending a violent tremor through your body. You barely caught the whimper that threatened to escape, clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip hard enough to sting.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled against your throat. His fingers traced up the line of your neck, lingering just beneath your jaw, pressing just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Come on,” he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. Another slow, deliberate thrust. “Be a good girl and answer them.”

You hated him. You wanted him. You wanted to wreck him just as much as he was wrecking you.

Swallowing the moan threatening to spill, you forced out a single, strained response.

“F—Fine,” you managed, your voice breathless. “I’m fine.”

Silence. Then footsteps fading away.

The second you were alone again, his lips curled into a dark, triumphant smirk.

“Good girl.”

And then he snapped.

His pace turned ruthless, pounding into you so hard that your cuffed wrists nearly slammed against the counter. A sharp gasp finally broke free, your breath ragged, your body trembling against his as he took you apart, piece by piece.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough now, no longer in control. You had ruined him. And he was going to make sure you felt every second of it.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?” His teeth grazed your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers slid down, gripping your thigh, lifting you higher, opening you more for him. “Letting them knock knowing you were stuffed full of me—”.

You clenched around him, and a low, broken growl tore from his throat.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, his pace turning brutal. “You’re so fucked.”

And he was right.

Because in that moment, locked in that bathroom, restrained and at his mercy you had never felt more alive.

His thrusts slowed just enough for you to catch your breath but only barely. The deep, punishing drag of him inside you was enough to make your eyes flutter shut, your body trembling under the intensity of it all.

Then, he smirked.

His lips ghosted over your ear, his breath hot and laced with something dangerous. “Tell me, detective,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. Another slow, deliberate thrust. “Where do you want it?”

Your breath hitched, your wrists straining against the cuffs, but you didn’t answer.

His fingers slid down your stomach, teasing the sensitive skin there as he pressed in deeper, harder, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“Inside?” he continued, his tone playful yet dripping with raw possession. “Or all over you?” His free hand gripped your waist roughly, his hold unrelenting. “But honestly…” He snapped his hips forward sharply, making you gasp.

“I’d rather put it inside,” he growled, voice dropping into something darker. His fingers traced your lower abdomen, slow, taunting. “So I can put my child right here.”

Your heart stopped.

He wasn’t joking.

His smirk widened at your silence, his fingers tightening their grip. “Imagine that, sweetheart,” he purred. “No more chasing criminals in that boring little job of yours.” Another sharp thrust. “No more lonely nights pretending you don’t need me.” Deeper. “No more fighting against what you already know is inevitable.”

His hand slid up, wrapping lightly around your throat not enough to cut off your air, just enough to make your pulse pound beneath his fingertips.

“You’d belong to me,” he whispered, his voice pure sin. “You’d be the mother of my child. My wife. My partner in crime.”

His lips hovered over yours, his eyes hungry, filled with something twisted and possessive.

“And you’d love every second of it.”

You knew you should have pushed him away. You knew you should have fought harder, told him he was insane, that you would never belong to anyone.

But at this point…

You no longer cared.

Your body was already his. Your mind was already tangled in his dangerous, intoxicating world.

And as your lips finally met his in a desperate, bruising kiss, you realized the truth.

You were already falling.

And there was no escape.

His smirk deepened as he stilled inside you, keeping you right on the edge, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. Teasing. Testing. Owning.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. His fingers trailed lazily down your body, over your stomach, a silent promise of what he was about to do. What he was going to take. “It seems you’ve already made your choice.”

He rolled his hips just slightly, enough to make you shudder, enough to make your cuffed wrists tremble against the cold counter. But then he stopped.

You let out a shaky breath, your body aching, desperate for more. But that bastard just chuckled, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hungry, knowing gaze.

“But,” he continued smoothly, cruelly, brushing his lips over yours without actually kissing you. “I want to hear it.”

His fingers dug into your thigh, spreading you open even wider, reminding you exactly who was in control.

“I want to hear those beautiful lips beg for it.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You knew what he was doing. This was a game. A power play. A test of how far you’d let yourself fall for him.

And you hated that you were losing.

You bit your lip, refusing to give in, refusing to surrender.

He let out a low, amused hum. “Still pretending to be strong?” His grip on your throat tightened, his other hand sliding between your bodies, fingers taunting and knowing, touching you exactly where he knew you needed him most.

Your back arched, a soft, choked sound escaping before you could stop it.

His smirk widened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dropping to something dangerous, velvety, addictive. “You’re already mine. Just say it.”

You shook your head, stubborn even as your body betrayed you, even as your walls clenched around him involuntarily.

His jaw clenched, his patience snapping.

“Say it,” he growled, thrusting hard and deep, ripping the control straight from your hands.

A gasp tore from your lips, your vision blurring for a moment as pleasure crashed through you.

“Say it,” he ordered again, relentless, pounding into you with a force that left no room for escape.

Your pride was shattering, your body burning, your breath coming in ragged, desperate pants.

And then he slowed again, torturously deep, deliberate, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make your head spin.

He leaned in, his lips barely touching yours, his voice pure darkness.

“Beg for it, detective.”

Your restraint finally snapped.

“…Please.”

It was barely a whisper, barely audible but it was enough.

His smirk was pure sin.

“Good girl.”

And then he cum inside you.

The air was thick with heat, sweat, and something far more dangerous something final.

Your body was still trembling, wrecked from what he had done to you, from how thoroughly he had claimed you. Your wrists were sore from the cuffs, your breath uneven, but you had never felt more alive.

And neither had he.

He pulled you against him, possessive, unyielding, his lips crashing onto yours in a bruising, devastating kiss. It wasn’t just passion it was a statement. A warning. A promise.

You were his now.

His fingers tangled in your hair, his other hand still gripping your waist, as if daring you to pull away as if he knew you wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips hovered inches from yours, his breath still heavy, his dark eyes locked onto yours with pure obsession.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow,” he murmured, voice silk and steel. His fingers trailed down your arm, slow, taunting, until they reached your wrists still bound, still at his mercy.

“To resign from your job.”

Your stomach twisted, but you said nothing.

“And to say your goodbyes,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. No room for escape.

His lips brushed over your jaw, your neck, your pulse point, where he could feel the way your heart pounded for him.

“After that,” he whispered, his voice a sinful caress against your skin, a command you already knew you would follow. “Call me.”

His hand slid lower, fingers ghosting over your still trembling stomach, his touch suddenly gentle, reverent.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said smoothly. “We’ll go ring shopping.”

Your breath hitched.

Your heart stopped.

And then he kissed your stomach.

Soft. Slow. Intentional.

His lips lingered against your skin as he smirked, fully satisfied, completely in control.

“See you in nine months, my child.”

A shiver raced down your spine, your fingers curling into fists, your mind spinning with everything that had just happened.

Everything you had just agreed to.

You had spent your entire life chasing criminals.

And now?

You were about to marry one.

The next morning, sunlight barely seeped through the curtains, casting a dim glow across the room. Your body ached in ways you hadn’t expected, a reminder of the night before, of what you had done, of the choice that had been made for you. Or maybe, deep down, the choice you had made for yourself. Every part of you still felt him his hands, his mouth, his voice wrapping around you like a curse you could never shake.

You turned onto your side, staring at the ceiling, the weight of reality sinking in. Today was the day. The day you walked away from everything you had spent your life building. The badge, the cases, the thrill of chasing criminals justice had been your entire world. And now, you were about to give it all up for a man who didn’t just live in the shadows but thrived in them.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. His timing was always perfect, always knowing exactly when to pull you back into his grasp before you had the chance to second-guess yourself.

Get up, sweetheart. You have goodbyes to make. Don’t keep me waiting.

You exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the sheets. He was giving you the illusion of a choice, as if this wasn’t inevitable, as if you hadn’t already surrendered to him the moment you let him touch you. The moment you let him own you.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you moved on autopilot. The shower did nothing to wash away the phantom feeling of his lips, his hands. Even as you dressed, every touch of fabric against your skin felt foreign, like you weren’t supposed to be here, like you were already his and had no business pretending otherwise.

Walking into the station felt heavier than you had anticipated. Every glance from your colleagues, every distant hum of conversations you had once been a part of, felt like a life that no longer belonged to you. Jun-ho was waiting by your desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He had always been able to read you, and today was no exception.

“What’s going on with you?” His voice was low, suspicious. “You disappear last night, don’t answer your phone, and now you show up looking like you’re about to drop a bomb on me.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. This was it. The moment you severed ties with the only person who had ever truly had your back.

“I’m leaving,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “I’m resigning.”

Jun-ho’s face barely shifted, but the slight tension in his jaw gave him away. “Like hell you are.”

You exhaled slowly. “It’s not up for debate.”

His eyes darkened. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Jun-ho let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re throwing away everything. For what? Some criminal who got into your head?”

You flinched, just slightly, but he caught it. His expression hardened.

“This isn’t you,” he muttered. “You don’t just run.”

Your chest tightened, but there was no stopping this. It was already done.

“I’m not running,” you said quietly. “I’m choosing.”

Jun-ho stared at you, waiting for some sign that you were lying, that this was some elaborate joke, but when he found nothing, his shoulders sagged.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Maybe. But it was a mistake you were willing to make.

Without another word, you set the resignation letter on your desk, turned on your heel, and walked away. You didn’t look back. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to leave.

The moment you stepped outside, the familiar black car was already waiting at the curb. The tinted window rolled down, and there he was, smirking like he had already won.

And maybe, he had.

You slid into the passenger seat without hesitation. The door shut, sealing your fate.

His fingers traced over your thigh as he pulled you in for a slow, deliberate kiss.

“Good girl.”

The car pulled away from the station, from your old life, from everything you had ever known.

There was no turning back now.

As the car moved through the city streets, the weight of everything you had just done settled deep in your chest. There was no going back now. The station, Jun-ho, the badge that once defined you it was all behind you, fading into a past that no longer belonged to you.

Beside you, he was relaxed, one hand lazily gripping the wheel while the other rested on your thigh, fingers tracing slow, taunting circles against the fabric of your pants. His touch was possessive, claiming, like he already knew he had won. And maybe, he had.

You glanced at him, taking in the sharp angles of his jaw, the smirk that played on his lips like he was enjoying every second of this. Like he had planned this all along, knowing you would fold, knowing you would choose him.

He must have felt your stare because he turned his head slightly, dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth, laced with amusement.

You exhaled, turning your gaze back to the road ahead. “This is happening fast.”

He chuckled, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly. “Fast? Oh, darling, I’ve been waiting for this for far too long.”

You swallowed, unsure if that made you uneasy or… something else entirely.

He leaned in just a fraction, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “And now that I have you, I don’t plan on wasting any time.”

You shivered, a mix of anticipation and something dangerously close to excitement curling low in your stomach.

The car slowed, pulling up to an upscale jewelry store, the kind you had only seen in passing but never had any reason to enter. Until now.

He parked, turned off the engine, and turned to you with that same smirk that always seemed to set your nerves on fire. “Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Ring shopping.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the words. This was real. He was really doing this.

When you didn’t move right away, he reached over, unbuckling your seatbelt for you, his fingers grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“Unless,” he mused, tilting his head as he studied you. “You’d rather skip the formalities and just let me claim you right here and now?”

Your pulse spiked, heat rushing through you as you met his gaze.

He grinned, sensing your reaction, his hand sliding up your thigh. “I wouldn’t mind putting my ring on your finger while you’re screaming my name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to keep your composure, but the look in his eyes told you he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“Let’s just get the damn ring,” you muttered, shoving open the car door before he could push you any further.

His laugh was low and knowing as he followed you inside.

The store was pristine, the lighting bright, making every diamond in the glass cases sparkle. A well-dressed associate approached immediately, offering a polite smile.

“How can I assist you today?”

He placed a firm hand on your lower back, pulling you slightly closer to his side. “We’re looking for an engagement ring.”

The words sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t react. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

The associate’s eyes flickered between the two of you before nodding. “Of course. Do you have a specific style in mind?”

He looked at you expectantly, but when you didn’t answer, he smirked. “Something bold,” he said smoothly, eyes never leaving yours. “Something that makes it clear she belongs to me.”

Your heart pounded, the weight of his words pressing down on you.

The associate nodded and led you toward a display case filled with intricate, shimmering rings. Your fingers hovered over a few, but before you could decide, he reached down and plucked one from the velvet display.

A large, deep sapphire encased in black gold, surrounded by smaller diamonds.

“This one,” he said, slipping it onto your finger himself, his touch lingering. “It suits you.”

You stared at the ring, at the way it fit so perfectly, as if it had been meant for you all along.

His lips brushed against your temple, his voice a whisper only for you.

“Now everyone will know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “That you’re mine.”

The weight of the ring on your finger felt heavier than it should, like a silent declaration that you had crossed a line you could never return from. The deep sapphire gleamed under the store’s bright lights, a contrast to the darkness that surrounded the man standing beside you. His fingers remained curled around yours, possessive, firm, as if daring you to try and pull away.

But you didn’t.

The sales associate, unaware of the suffocating tension between you two, smiled politely. “A stunning choice. Would you like it engraved?”

He turned to you, his smirk never fading. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “What would it even say?”

His eyes darkened, his thumb stroking slow circles on your wrist. “Property of—” he paused, tilting his head, enjoying the way your breath hitched. “Or maybe something sweeter, like forever mine.”

Your stomach twisted, your pulse thrumming in your ears. He was marking you, branding you in ways that went far beyond a simple ring. This wasn’t just about marriage. This was about ownership.

The sales associate, oblivious to the undertone of the conversation, simply nodded. “We can have the engraving ready by the end of the day.”

He didn’t take his eyes off you as he answered. “Perfect.”

After finalizing the details, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card, tossing it onto the counter without so much as a glance at the price.

The sales associate’s eyes widened slightly but remained professional. “We’ll have everything ready for you soon. Congratulations to you both.”

The moment you stepped out of the store, he didn’t give you a chance to breathe.

He spun you around, pressing you against the cool glass of the storefront, his body flush against yours, trapping you. His hands rested firmly on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you that he was in control.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. “Second thoughts?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “No.”

He chuckled, low and knowing, his fingers trailing down your hip. “Good.”

Tilting your chin up, he studied your face, his smirk deepening as his thumb grazed over your bottom lip. “Because there’s still one more thing we need to do before the night’s over.”

Your heart pounded. “What?”

His lips curved into something darker, something dangerous.

“Pick a wedding dress.”

The thought of a wedding dress should have been overwhelming, but at this point, it barely fazed you. Everything was happening too fast, too seamlessly, like he had planned every step, knowing you’d fall right into place.

He guided you back to the car, his hand never leaving your waist. The air outside was crisp, but the heat of his touch burned through your clothes, a constant reminder of who was leading this dance.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you barely had time to exhale before he leaned in, one hand gripping the side of your seat, his lips a breath away from yours.

“You look good with that ring,” he murmured, his fingers grazing over the sapphire, twisting it slightly as if testing how it felt on your hand. “Feels right, doesn’t it?”

You swallowed, your pulse betraying you. “Feels like I don’t have much of a choice.”

He smirked, amused, but his eyes held something deeper something unforgiving.

“You always have a choice, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, dripping with dark amusement. “But let’s be honest you already made it the moment you let me touch you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed down your arm, featherlight, teasing.

“And now,” he continued, lips brushing against your jaw, “you’re going to finish what you started.”

The drive to the boutique was silent, thick with tension. You tried to ignore the way his hand rested on your thigh, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric, keeping you on edge.

When the car finally came to a stop in front of an exclusive, high-end bridal shop, you hesitated.

“Something wrong?” he asked, watching you with that same infuriating smirk.

You turned to him, exhaling sharply. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”

His fingers curled around your chin, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“When I want something, I take it,” he said smoothly. “And right now, I want to see you in white.”

Without another word, you stepped out of the car, walking ahead before he could see just how much his words had affected you.

The boutique was exactly what you expected luxurious, pristine, the kind of place meant for women who spent months planning their dream weddings. The assistant barely batted an eye as the two of you walked in, though you could tell she recognized who he was.

His reputation preceded him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, maintaining professionalism despite the underlying nervousness in her eyes.

“She needs a dress,” he said simply, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. “Something that fits her perfectly.”

The assistant nodded quickly, motioning toward the fitting rooms. “Of course. Right this way.”

You didn’t resist as she guided you toward the racks of pristine white gowns, her voice a distant hum as she talked about fabrics and designs.

He leaned against the wall, watching you with that dark amusement, arms crossed over his chest as the woman handed you a gown. “Try this one.”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before snatching it from her grasp and disappearing into the fitting room.

The dress was pure temptation. The fabric clung to every curve, the slit running dangerously high up your thigh, the neckline low enough to make your breath hitch.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, at the way the sapphire ring on your finger gleamed against the white fabric, a twisted contrast of purity and possession.

A knock on the door.

“Open up.” His voice was low, filled with something dangerous.

You hesitated, but the moment you unlocked the door, he was there, stepping inside before you could push him away, shutting it behind him.

His gaze swept over you, slow, deliberate, possessive.

His fingers traced the slit of the dress, his touch featherlight but filled with intent. “You look…” His voice was husky, dark eyes drinking you in. “Like something I want to ruin all over again.”

Your breath caught, but before you could respond, he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Do you know what happens after you put on a wedding dress, sweetheart?” His lips hovered just over yours, his breath warm, teasing. “You walk down the aisle.”

His fingers slid lower, grazing the soft fabric at your hip.

“And after that?” His smirk deepened, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You become my wife.”

Your pulse pounded, your body betraying you as his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

A slow smirk curled your lips as you reached for his tie, your fingers twisting in the fabric before yanking him down until his forehead nearly touched yours. His breath fanned against your lips, his eyes dark with intrigue, with hunger.

His smirk faltered for just a second as he processed your words, but then it came back sharper, darker. His grip on your waist tightened, possessive, unyielding.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice laced with something far more sinister than amusement.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips ghosting over his without actually touching. “And you love that about me.”

His chuckle was low and dark, reverberating through your chest as his hands slid up your arms, framing your face. “You want me to take you in church?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief and twisted admiration.

You tugged on his tie, forcing him even closer, until your lips brushed his ear. “I want you to ruin me where people beg for salvation.”

His breath hitched, but it wasn’t hesitation it was something else. Something dangerous. Something unholy.

“Sweetheart,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your grip still tight on his tie, your smirk mirroring his own. “I know exactly what I want,” you whispered. “Will you keep your promise?”

For the first time, his smirk completely vanished.

Not because he was uncertain. Not because he was shocked.

But because he realized he had never wanted anything more.

His hands trailed down to the fabric of your wedding dress, his fingers curling into the silk as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours in a whisper of a kiss.

“Then let’s make this official,” he murmured. “And after we say ‘I do’…”

He gripped your jaw, tilting your head back, his lips grazing your throat in a promise of pure sin.

“I’m going to defile my bride on the very altar they pray at.”

The drive to the church was suffocating, thick with tension that neither of you bothered to break. His hand never left your thigh, fingers tracing slow, taunting circles against the fabric of your dress, a silent reminder that this was happening. There was no backing out. No second thoughts. No one coming to save you.

Not that you wanted to be saved.

You stole a glance at him as the car glided through the dimly lit streets. He looked calm. Too calm. Like a man who had already won, who had orchestrated every second of this moment down to the very breath you were taking. His jaw was relaxed, his grip on the wheel effortless, but his eyes they were darker than usual. Possessive. Unforgiving.

The church loomed ahead, an eerie sight against the night sky, its towering silhouette casting shadows across the cobblestone path. The grand wooden doors stood slightly ajar, the dim glow of candlelight flickering from within.

And inside?

They were waiting.

A small group of men, some you recognized, some you didn’t each one uncomfortable, tense, afraid. A priest stood at the altar, his hands clasped together, knuckles white as he avoided looking at either of you. He knew why he was here. And he knew what would happen if he refused.

You could hear their hushed whispers as you stepped inside, the soft shuffle of feet, the barely concealed fear woven into the heavy silence.

One of the men, an older one with trembling hands, took a step forward, eyes darting between you and the man at your side. “Is this… really necessary?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

A slow, deliberate chuckle left his lips as he pulled you in close, his fingers splaying over your hip possessively. “Are you questioning my fiancée’s wishes?” he mused, tilting his head.

The older man swallowed thickly, eyes flickering to you for a brief second before lowering his gaze. “Of course not.”

“Good.” His smirk widened, but there was nothing kind about it.

The priest hesitated for only a moment before clearing his throat, forcing himself to focus on the ceremony, though you could see the faint sheen of sweat forming at his temples.

“Shall we… begin?” he asked.

You felt his fingers tighten around yours, and when you turned to face him, you saw it the gleam in his eyes, the way he was watching you like he was already claiming you.

He brought your hand up to his lips, brushing a slow kiss over your knuckles before murmuring low enough for only you to hear:

“Say ‘I do,’ sweetheart.” His smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark promise. “And then… I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

The words left your lips before you could even process them, a whispered “I do” that sealed your fate in more ways than one.

A shiver ran down your spine as he repeated the same vow, his voice slow, deliberate, wrapping around you like a velvet noose.

The priest’s hands trembled as he pronounced you husband and wife, but the moment the words left his lips, everything else faded.

The church, the flickering candles, the terrified men who bore witness to your unholy union it all disappeared the second he pulled you against him, claiming you with a kiss that was anything but holy.

It was raw, hungry, his fingers digging into your waist, pressing you so close that you could feel the erratic pounding of his heart against yours. His lips were rough, demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulled away just enough to whisper against your mouth.

“Now you’re mine.”

His hand found your throat, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look at him, to see the danger swirling in his darkened gaze.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” he murmured, his thumb stroking along your pulse point, feeling how wildly it raced beneath his touch. “I told you I’d take you here. In front of them. At the altar.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his lips along your jaw, trailing down to your throat, where he pressed an open-mouthed kiss, slow and dangerous.

“They’re still watching,” you whispered, your voice unsteady but thrilled by the weight of his promise.

His chuckle sent a tremor through you, his grip on your waist tightening. “Let them.”

His hands ghosted over the fabric of your dress, fingertips teasing where the silk met your skin. “This dress won’t make it through the night,” he murmured, his voice thick with possession. “Not when I’m about to ruin you.”

He spun you around, pressing you against the altar, his body caging you in. His fingers found the delicate buttons running down the back of your gown, undoing them agonizingly slow, making sure you felt every second of him unwrapping his bride.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Time to fulfill our vows.”

The church was silent, save for the flickering of candlelight and the sounds of your own desire. The grand altar, meant for prayers, had become something else entirely a place of devotion, but not to any god. No, the only thing you worshipped now was him.

Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, your back arching against the cool stone as he held you there, possessive, unyielding. There was no hesitation in his touch, no doubt in your mind this was exactly what you had wanted. What you had demanded.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips as you felt his grip tighten, his breath warm against your skin. You loved the way he touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something sacred and ruined all at once.

He dragged his lips over your thigh, slow and deliberate, teasing you just enough to make you squirm before lifting his gaze to yours.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dripping with mockery and possession. “Does this thrill you?”

You let out a low chuckle, fingers curling into his hair, yanking him closer. “More than you know.”

His smirk widened. He loved this about you your hunger, your fearlessness, the way you never pretended to be anything less than what you were.

“That your husband is taking you here,” he continued, voice rich with amusement. “Where people come to kneel before their god. Where they beg for salvation. Where they come to be cleansed.”

You exhaled shakily, arching into his touch, relishing the pure blasphemy of it all.

“But you,” he whispered, his fingers digging into your skin, branding you. “You don’t want to be cleansed, do you?”

You smirked, your nails scraping against his scalp as you pulled his head back, forcing his dark, hungry gaze to meet yours.

“Why would I?” you taunted, voice silk and sin. “When I love being dirty?”

His eyes darkened, a growl rumbling low in his throat. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

But before he could claim you the way you both wanted, hurried footsteps echoed through the grand hall.

The priest.

His face was pale, his hands trembling as he took in the sight before him the sacred turned sacrilegious.

“This is the house of God!” the priest’s voice shook with both rage and terror. “You can’t this is sin! This is a grievous offense!”

For a brief second, you expected him to stop.

But he only smirked.

And so did you.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even spare the priest a second glance as he tightened his grip on you, pressing you against the altar.

Slowly, mockingly, he turned his head, locking eyes with the old man who looked moments away from fainting.

“Then leave,” he said simply, voice smooth and unbothered. “Unless you wish to bear witness to our union in more ways than one.”

The priest stumbled back, horrified, speechless, powerless.

You turned your head just enough to catch his wide-eyed stare, your smirk never faltering.

“Or stay,” you added, voice sultry, teasing, cruel. “But in that case, you might want to start praying harder.”

A strangled noise escaped the priest, his face going ghostly white before he turned and fled without another word.

And the second he was gone, you felt his lips crash against yours, a deep, possessive kiss that left no room for doubt.

“You,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with hunger and promise, “are the most dangerous and beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his ear.

“And you love it.”

His answering growl was all the confirmation you needed before he claimed you fully at the very altar meant for salvation.

But neither of you were interested in being saved.

The heat of the moment still lingered in the air, thick and intoxicating, as he remained buried deep inside you. The sacred stillness of the church had been defiled beyond redemption, but neither of you cared. This was your altar now.

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat as he pressed his lips against your ear. His voice was smooth, low, dangerous.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, his tone slow, deliberate, “you’re coming with me. You’re going to help me find those desperate, pathetic souls, the ones drowning in debt, willing to do anything for money.” His free hand trailed down your bare stomach, making you shiver. “And you’re going to stand by my side as we play God with their lives.”

You shivered, but not from fear. From the power in his words.

His hand slid down your throat, resting just above your pulse as he felt the way your heart pounded.

“But…” his voice dropped, turning even more possessive, more threatening. “If I see you so much as smiling at another man, if you so much as play with the idea of testing me…”

You smirked, the defiance in your eyes shining as you purred, “What if I do? What are you gonna do about it?”

The response was instant.

He bit down on your neck hard. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin as his fingers dug into your hips, keeping you trapped against him. Your gasp only seemed to fuel his fire.

His tongue flicked over the fresh mark, soothing it, before he smirked against your skin.

“First,” he murmured, his voice thick with dark delight, “they’ll watch as I take you, as I remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His fingers traced a slow path down your spine before gripping you roughly.

“And then, when they’re on their knees, begging for their lives, I’ll let them think they have a chance.” His smirk widened. “But in the end, I’ll kill them anyway.”

Your breath hitched, and your nails dug into his back, a thrill running through you at his ruthless, unwavering dominance.

His lips brushed against your ear one last time before he whispered, “So go ahead, sweetheart. Flirt with them. Make me jealous. I dare you.”

And from the way his dark, hungry gaze burned into yours, you knew he meant every word.

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