#edit: edited the parts where I used the m word as I realized it was Not Fucking Okay

[kwanisms]

Of Hellfire & Saints 02 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

«« previous | library of illusion masterlist | next »»

➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 22.9k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

a/n:  the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. MAIN SCENE: fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (love, sweetheart, darling, etc), love-making (again because they’re in love~), cum inside, and that’s also it on this one! SMALLER SCENES: mentions of oral (f receiving, m receiving) and other elements of foreplay as well as table sex but nothing mentioned in great detail.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The next morning you woke up before Yeosang and got up, grabbed your nightgown from your things, and pulled it on. Normally you would get dressed but as this was now your marital home, you didn’t feel the need to follow your parents rules. Instead, you made breakfast, collected a few eggs from the chicken coop and prepared a nice breakfast as well as some tea.

Once breakfast was ready, you carried the plates into the bedroom where Yeosang was still asleep and sat on the edge of the bed. You set the plates down and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and watched as he slowly came to.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep and looked up at you sleepily, a smile crossing his face as you came into focus. “Morning,” he murmured and you smiled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Good morning, husband,” you said softly.

Yeosang’s eyes opened again as the realization sank in, his smile growing wider. “Oh, right,” he said as he reached up, caressing your cheek. “We got married,” he whispered to which you giggled and stole another kiss. “We got married,” you repeated.

Yeosang pulled you into a kiss, lips parting yours but you pulled back before he could escalate any further. “We can always spend the morning in bed,” you said softly as you sat up. “But you should eat breakfast first,” you added. You turned, grabbing one of the plates and holding it for him. Yeosang glanced at the plates and then back at you.

“Shouldn’t we get up and eat at the table?” he asked, to which you chuckled, kissing his confused face. “Who said we have to?” you asked as you handed him his plate and utensils. Yeosang sat up, leaning against the headboard as you grabbed the other plate and carefully climbed over him, taking the spot next to him with a giggle. He laughed as you settled in next to him and started eating.

“This is our home,” you said as you looked up at him. “And we make the rules here.”

You both ate breakfast, sipping the tea you had made and when you both finished, you took the plates and cups into the kitchen and set them aside to wash later before returning to the bed. Yeosang started to get up but you removed your chemise, letting it fall to the floor. Yeosang looked up at your naked form as you approached him.

“If this is what it’s like to be married,” he started, taking your hand and guiding you onto the bed as you pulled the covers back. “I’m glad I asked you to marry me.”

The next couple hours were spent in bed, Yeosang learning your body and you learning his, exploring each other more thoroughly. He took the lead, having picked up quickly what you liked and that you preferred him on top of you.

You introduced him to other aspects of the marital bed, learning very quickly what he liked and what made him weak in your hands. He wasted no time exploring your body and reciprocating the things you had learned from Hongjoong.

He learned that he really liked the way you tasted and how he could make you come undone with his tongue and fingers. He learned there was more to sex than just procreating and after multiple orgasms and coming inside you numerous times during your sessions, there was no doubt in your minds that one of them had to take.

You lay on the bed after hours of lovemaking, Yeosang on top of you, his head resting on your chest as you relaxed. Without warning, he raised his head and looked at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I know we’ve only been married for less than a day but I honestly think I —” his words were cut off by a sharp knocking at the door.

Yeosang glanced in the direction of the front door before turning to look at you. “Hold that thought,” he said as he got up, hastily grabbing his clothes and dressed quickly. You pulled the covers up as he walked over to the door, throwing you a grimace before closing it.

You sat up, holding the sheets to your chest as you listened to his footsteps approach the front door followed by the sound of it opening. “Oh, Jonas,” you heard your husband say and fought the urge to burst into laughter, knowing full well that Yeosang probably looked less than presentable.

“Is everything alright?” you heard Jonas ask. You stifled a laugh as Yeosang stammered out a yes. He admitted the two of you woke up late and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing at Jonas’ next question.

“Did the missus keep you up all night?”

You could imagine the look on Yeosang’s face and that his cheeks were probably bright red but he did sound embarrassed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting me?” You shifted on the bed, straining your ears to hear the next words.

“The priests have started to arrive. The ones you sent for from the neighboring villages.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Priests?’ you wondered as you listened in. “Oh! I’ll just get dressed and meet you at the church,” Yeosang replied, sounding slightly flustered. You couldn’t see Jonas but imagined he nodded as his response was delayed for a moment.

“I think that would be best. I’m sure your wife could use the time during your absence to attend to her household duties.” Your smile fell but you let the comment slide. You heard the sound of footsteps heading for the door and Yeosang bid Jonas farewell before shutting the door.

You heard his steps shuffle towards the bedroom door and it opened. You looked up, meeting his eyes and finally the laughter you’d been holding in sprang free and you erupted into a fit of giggles as he entered the bedroom, moving to the bed and climbing onto it.

“How much did you hear?” he asked and you managed to choke out you heard enough. A grin spread across his face and soon your laughter came out unabashed as he started to tickle your sides. “You find it funny?” he asked as he continued to tickle you, laughing at your attempts to stop him. “He knew! He knew what we were doing!” he added.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down. “Of course he knew, Yeosang. We’re a young married couple. We just married yesterday. Of course we’re going to consummate our marriage.” Yeosang looked mortified but could help smile as you continued to giggle and pulled him into a kiss.

He leaned into you, deepening the kiss before he pulled back. “No,” he said as you kissed down the side of his neck. “I have to go. I can’t stay here in bed with you, as tempting as it is,” he added, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “After I meet with this priest, I will return and then we can resume, all right?”

You pouted up at him which only made him chuckle and tap the tip of your nose gently. “I promise, sweetheart,” he added, the sound of the name on his tongue making a flutter erupt in your stomach. “I have to meet with these priests and explain the situation and afterwards, I’ll come back.”

He pressed a few short kisses to your lips and you sighed. “Oh all right,” you finally conceded. “How long will you be?” you asked, taking his hand and nuzzling into his palm. “A few hours maybe,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded slowly before sighing again. “Then I shall have lunch ready when you get back.” Yeosang smiled, pulling you into another kiss. “I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and starting to dress and make himself presentable.

Once he left, you got up and dressed finally and went about your chores, cleaning the used dishes and starting a fire to make lunch. You worked diligently as you hummed to yourself. You cut up potatoes and other vegetables from the pantry and added them to a pot with some beef stock as well as a cut of beef.

As it simmered, you went to work cleaning and putting away your things. You also hung up your painting, the one you had made of the wildflower field. As you stared at it, your mind wandered, a bittersweet feeling filling your chest.

Things had changed so drastically in the last few weeks since Hongjoong’s death. Before, you had planned to run away with Hongjoong, marry elsewhere, and start a life near the sea. That seemed like a distant memory now as you stood in your new home where you would live with your husband.

You had never imagined you would marry Yeosang as he was not the man you had fallen for but as the events unfolded, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. Hongjoong was the love of your life but you knew with Yeosang, you could be happy. You would be.

As promised, Yeosang returned but later than lunchtime as while he was meeting with the first priest, another arrived making it two he needed to speak with. When he returned for dinner, you sat at the table this time, listening as he told you about the priests, one named Yunho and one named Jongho.

That night as you were cleaning up after dinner, Yeosang joined you and despite your insistence that he leave the work to you, he helped you anyway. Initially you thought it was odd but as soon as the dishes were done he pulled you into a kiss which led to him guiding you to the table where he made you lie back as his kisses traveled down your clothed body, pulling your skirt up and burying his head between your thighs.

He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time and instead of letting you fall over the edge, he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he undid his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock which he then pushed into you. It was raw, carnal and passionate as he made love to you on the table.

You seemed to have awakened a sexual beast in him after the first night and the next few days consisted of the same schedule. Meeting the priests who arrived, giving a brief explanation of the situation and taking them around the village to introduce them to the villagers before returning home for dinner and spending a good portion of the night making love to you.

His stamina and strength surprised you, as well his ability to pin you down against the nearest flat surface and make you moan his name over and over again. It was almost more than you could bear but bear it you did, because you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every moment of it. Yeosang all but worshiped your body and any chance he had to show you that, he took.

His sexual appetite did not diminish even when the misfortunes of the village continued with the odd goat or pig being slaughtered in the night. Yeosang continued to show you physical love every night and even some mornings before you could pull yourself out of the tangle of sheets that was your marital bed.

Whether or not your attempts had gotten you pregnant didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed the physically intimate relationship between you and your husband immensely and that was more important than some religious texts telling you to have children. If a child came as a result of your union, then you would cherish that but it was not the goal.

For Yeosang, he was conflicted with his sexual urges because of the teachings of the church but he also knew that you were not exactly a godly woman but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew this when he agreed to marry you. He wanted to protect you from the villagers' wrath should things go south but he also felt that by marrying you, it would also offer another layer of protection against the demon.

Surely Hongjoong would become enraged if he learned of the relationship between the two of you but that was a risk Yeosang was willing to take. He’d grown to love you before your wedding and while he hadn’t had the chance to tell you just yet, he still wanted to show you.

The day the final priest showed up was a quiet morning. A flock of chickens had been slaughtered in their coop the night before and the aftermath had been a slew of wails, cries, and calls for action. The last priest to arrive, a man named Mingi, was from the next closest village on the other side of the mountains. He arrived in the middle of the night so Yeosang was already in for the night. 

Jonas had offered him shelter and promised to rouse Yeosang in the morning which Yeosang would come to be eternally grateful for as he was deep in the throes of passion with you, tangled in the sheets as he made love to you again and again.

The next morning, Yeosang finally met with him to explain the situation and introduce him to the other priests. Mingi was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man with an interesting history with witches. Yeosang had asked you before leaving to prepare a dinner large enough for all the priests so you planned to go foraging, stopping by your parent’s house to meet with your mother who agreed to go with you.

As you walked into the forest not too far from the village, you found the small section where you usually collected mushrooms from.

“How is married life?” your mother asked as you knelt down to start unearthing the mushrooms. “It is good,” you replied as you worked, handing her the mushrooms to put in the sack. “And how is your husband treating you?”

You looked up at her to see that she had a knowing look on her face. “He’s wonderful,” you answered truthfully. You handed her a few more mushrooms before getting up to move to another section, searching for more.

“And will we be expecting any new additions to the village soon?”

You glanced up at her, taking note of her smile before a smile spread over your face and you turned away in an attempt to hide it from your mother. “Y/N! Don’t you try to hide it from me!” your mother whispered, gently hitting you with the linen sack.

“We’re not trying exactly,” you explained as you dug up mushrooms. “We’re just… enjoying the marital bed,” you continued. “If a child comes from our… activities, we will gladly welcome it. Right now, Yeosang’s focus is the demon,” you added. 

Your mother stepped forward and knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “Becoming a mother is the greatest honor God can bestow upon you, Y/N,” she said gently. “It is your duty to give your husband children.” You nodded and looked up. “I know,” you answered. “I will welcome one if it comes but if one doesn’t…” you trailed off as a high pitched whistle rang out.

You turned to look around, noticing how the forest seemed to grow darker around you. Your mother stood without a word, looking into the trees, a look of dread and horror etched on her face. “Mother?” you asked, getting to your feet.

“Run,” your mother whispered, not taking her eyes off a particular spot in the trees. “Mama?” you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “RUN!” she screamed, pushing you away. You fell back from the force and looked over in time to see a dark smoke billow out from the trees, heading for you and your mother.

You watched in horror as the smoke started to envelope your mother and she turned to look at you one final time. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she said, her voice panicked as the smoke shrouded her. “Run and don’t look back!”

Before you could get to your feet, the smoke turned black, obscuring your mother from view and her anguished screams of pain filled the air, sending the birds in the trees into a flight, squawking as they did.

When the smoke dissipated, all that remained of your mother was a charred, skeletal corpse. You heard a twig snap and turned your head to see a black, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes watching you with a wide, crooked grin full of sharp teeth.

Your breathing came in heavy pants as you tried to scramble backwards, the figure floating towards you. As it drew closer, you could see the face come into view and let out a whimper of fear to see Hongjoong staring back at you, his skin blackened and cracked.

“Run little lamb,” he said in a deep, demonic voice. Before you could act, he lunged forward and you let out a scream, sitting upright. There was a shuffling from the other room and the door opened. You turned, cowering away as a figure entered the room and rushed over to the bed where you lay.

“Shh, shh,” a familiar voice said and you looked up as Yeosang sat down, taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he added. “I’m here.” He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as you calmed down. “Wh-what happened?” you asked.

Yeosang pulled back and turned to look at the door where your mother stood, a wet cloth in her hand and worried look on her face. “You fainted,” she said without hesitation. You looked from her to Yeosang and back. “When?”

Your mother stepped forward. “When we went into the forest to get mushrooms. You were digging some up and took ill, fainting out on the ground.” You stared at her, trying to wrack your brain but all you could recall was the horrid dream you’d had.

‘It was a dream, right?’

You looked up at Yeosang who gently took your face in his hands, caressing the apple of your cheeks. “It’s all right, love,” he said softly. “Just take it slow,” he added as you pushed his hands away and attempted to sit up.

“Have you been feeling faint or taken ill in the mornings lately?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You shook your head as you looked at her, watching her exchange looks with your husband. “What is going on?” you demanded.

“Your mother thinks — ” Yeosang started but your mother interrupted him, stepping forward to speak over your husband. “You might be with child,” she announced. You stared at her in stunned silence before turning your gaze to Yeosang who sighed and looked back at you.

“It’s highly possible,” he admitted, caressing your cheek with one hand and taking your hand with the other. ‘With child? Now?’ You fell silent as your mother and husband both talked at the same time until you finally snapped. “How can we know for sure?” you asked.

Both fell silent, looking at you. “How can we know for sure that I am with child?” Yeosang turned to your mother who hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking. “There are ways to check,” she admitted. “Specific… test we can perform.”

Yeosang glanced at you before speaking to your mother. “What sort of tests?” he asked. Your mother hesitated, wringing the cloth in her hand nervously. “Well, the barley and wheat test,” she said softly. “She would need to urinate on barley and wheat seeds over the course of several days. If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.”

“And if neither sprout?” you asked, breaking your silence. “Then you are not with child,” your mother answered. You saw Yeosang’s shoulders visibly relax and he turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “It’s worth a try,” he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nodded in agreement.

“Just to be sure,” you stated to which both your mother and Yeosang nodded.

The next day, Yeosang managed to secure the seeds and buried them behind the house, marking their placement so you would be able to find them even at night. Each time you went out to do your business, your cheeks burned, although you knew no one was watching.

And each time, you returned to the house feeling more embarrassed than before and returned to the bedroom. Over the next few days, you continued to go outside to urinate over the spot where the seeds had been planted and your mother came by to help you with your daily chores. She insisted you rested and while she did your tasks before leaving to head home and prepare dinner for your father.

You ignored Yeosang’s insistence to stay in bed and got up to finish dinner. As you were checking the potatoes in the stew, there was a knock on the door. Yeosang answered it and you kept your head down as he let the visiting priests enter the house. It went from two to seven and soon your modest house was crowded.

Thankfully, there were extra chairs for the table in the second bedroom and Yeosang had the foresight to pull them out before and set the table up in the living room. He cleared his throat and crossed the living room to peer into the kitchen where you stood by the hearth.

“They’re here,” he said softly and beckoned you over. You shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s alright,” you said softly, waving your hand. “I’ll just serve them dinner and stay in here while you meet with them.” Yeosang glanced back before entering the kitchen and crossed the room to where you stood. He placed a hand on your waist, the other moving to tilt your head back to look at him. “I invited them here to meet you,” he explained.

“They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him. “They do?” Yeosang nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning into nuzzle his nose against yours in a display of affection before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So come out here and meet them, love.”

You placed the wooden ladle down, wiping your hands and smoothing down your apron. Yeosang took your hand and led you towards the door and into the living room. There were five men sitting around the table, a couple of them chatting amongst themselves.

When you entered with Yeosang, they all looked up in mild surprise. Your cheeks grew warm under their gazes as they watched you with your husband. “These are the visiting priests from the nearby villages,” Yeosang explained, gesturing at the group.

He gestured at the closest one, a man with cat-like eyes and broad shoulders. Even sitting down, you could tell this man was tall. He had hair like fire, a yellow that faded into fiery orange at the ends. “This is Song Mingi, he knows a lot about witches and sorcerers.”

Mingi nodded his head, bowing in a sign of respect, a gesture you returned. Next to him was a man who despite the thick black robes he wore you could tell was muscular and strong. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and gave you a small smile when your eyes met. “Choi Jongho, the youngest of his order and has performed a record number of exorcisms.”

Beside Jongho was a much slimmer looking man with bright red hair that took you by surprise. “Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, as your gaze passed over  him. “He travels the countryside with his partner,” he explained, gesturing to the man sitting on the other side of Wooyoung. You nodded and felt your cheeks burn as Wooyoung smiled and sent you a wink. The man beside him, his partner, elbowed him harshly. 

Either your husband didn’t notice or chose not to address the wink, for he moved on. “Choi San,” he said and the man who had elbowed Wooyoung gave you a warm smile, his black hair shorter than Mingi’s but cut the same as Wooyoung’s and pushed back off his forehead.

“San is a demon hunter,” Yeosang explained. Sitting beside San was the last priest. “This is Jeong Yunho,” Yeosang introduced. “He has experience performing exorcisms and banishing rituals. He was the first to arrive,” Yeosang said, reminding you of the morning after your wedding night.

You smiled politely, bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you, Misses,” Yunho said politely with a sweet smile. “This is Y/N,” Yeosang said, gesturing towards you. “My wife.”

There was a low chorus of greetings passed around by your guests and you returned them with as much politeness and grace as you could muster. You looked up at Yeosang and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll go get the stew,” you explained.

“Let me help,” he said, turning to follow but you waved your hand, urging him to take his seat. The last thing you wanted was him to appear as anything other than the man of the house before your visitors and so you returned to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth to protect your hand as you grabbed the handle of the hot pot hanging over the hearth and the wooden ladle.

Your mother had already set the table, bowls, plates, and cups set for each person. Yeosang had filled the cups and pieces of bread were already set on the plates as you moved to place the pot on the table. It was much heavier than you initially thought, as you made more than you usually did.

Noticing your struggle, Mingi got up to help you and despite your protests, he took the heavy pot and set it on the table. You thanked him profusely and started to spoon a helping of stew into each bowl, serving your husband after each guest and before picking up the now much lighter pot.

“What about you?” you heard a voice ask and turned to find six pairs of eyes on you. With a smile you bowed your head. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you answered. “I will just eat in the kitchen and stay out of your way.” Yeosang’s expression fell but as he moved to get up, Wooyoung beat him to it, rounding the table and grabbing the pot from you.

You followed him, trying to take it back but he gently nudged you back and spooned a helping into the seventh bowl before setting the pot in the middle of the table, took your hand and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the spot between your husband and San.

“Sit,” he simply said and moved back to his own seat. You glanced around at the table before your eyes settled on your husband and he nodded towards the chair beside him. “The cook should not be confined to the kitchen,” San added, gesturing for you to sit and after a moment, you took your seat, thanking them as Yeosang tried to fill your cup but you declined.

The smell of the ale was enough to make your stomach churn and you didn’t want to get sick before you ate. You stared at the stew while those around you ate and enjoyed the meal. You grabbed the wooden spoon next to your bowl but as you stared at the meat and potatoes, you couldn’t fathom even taking a bite, your stomach churning as the mere thought of eating made you sick beyond belief.

“Yeosang tells us you’re familiar with the demon,” a voice drew you out of your stupor and you looked up, meeting the gaze of Yunho who sat across from you. You glanced to your left, where your husband sat. He looked up to meet your gaze and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can tell them. Whatever is said here will not leave this house.”

You set the spoon down and took a deep breath before starting.

“I am. In life, he was my…” you trailed off, glancing at Yeosang, uncertain of how to continue. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Just tell them.” You glanced back at Yunho, who was watching you curiously. “He was my previous lover,” you finally said.

A silence fell over the table. “Your lover?” San asked from your right. You turned him and nodded. “Yes,” you answered. “He lived in a cabin in the forest by himself. His great grandfather built the cabin for his pregnant wife and all generations of Hongjoong’s family have lived there. It’s where Hongjoong was born.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the community, then?” Mingi asked, to which you shook your head. “No,” you replied. “He lived outside our community, outside our… rules.” Mingi sat back, arms crossed over his chest and you noticed he’d already finished his bowl.

“If you’re still hungry, please,” you added, gesturing to the pot with a smile. A small smile spread over Mingi’s face before he thanked you and helped himself to more stew. “Please,” San said. “Continue.”

You went on, explaining how you met Hongjoong when you were around 12 years old and that the two of you never really interacted except when he came to the village with his family. You went on to tell them how you met again when he was 17 and his mother had just passed and then again when he was 18 and his father passed, leaving him alone.

You explained the story of your friendship that grew into romance and how you fell in love with Hongjoong. As you told the story, you could see various looks on the faces of your guests ranging from concentration to adoration. It occurred to you that this was the first time you were telling this story in front of Yeosang and he was listening with rapt attention.

As you concluded that part of the story, Jongho spoke up.

“How did he become a demon? Surely someone who lived as you have described doesn’t just turn into a demon overnight,” he said. He’d removed his robe at some point and under it he wore a black fitted jacket and black pants.

You shook your head. “I don’t pretend to know the details,” you said softly. “He explained to me what he could remember. He said he remembered suffocating and being surrounded by darkness. He also recalled an intense burning pain and this awful laughter. He said it felt like he was being tortured for thousands of years and then he came to.”

Wooyoung finally spoke up, his chin resting in his hand. “He woke up in the grave the villagers buried him in and freed himself?” he asked. You turned to him, peering around San, and nodded. “That’s what he said. He broke out of the coffin and clawed his way out of the grave.”

A few sets of eyes turned to look at your husband who confirmed your story. “When Y/N came to after taking ill, she told Jonas and I of this and I was immediately sent to check the grave and it was indeed disturbed. We then had it dug up and found the coffin empty, the top of it caved in,” he added. “We knew then that Hongjoong had risen from his grave.”

“What happened after he got out?” Mingi asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “He must have come straight back to the cabin,” you replied. “I was already there. I ran away from my parents house after…” you hesitated, glancing at Yeosang who gave you a quizzical look. You looked away and continued.

“After my father hit me and told me what he and the other villagers had done. They’d killed Hongjoong.” You could see Yeosang visibly tense next to you but pressed on, deciding not to address it right then.

“So Hongjoong returned to the cabin and I helped him clean up and we… got intimate,” you said, cheeks burning under the gaze of six priests hanging onto your every word. “The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing but then Hongjoong appeared and I knew it wasn’t a dream. I thought that maybe the universe had sent him back because it wasn’t his time. I thought he’d been given a second chance but then he started to… change.”

“How did he change?” Yunho inquired. You looked up at him. “He started to get… ravenous? I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. But it was like… he couldn’t get enough. Like his appetite couldn’t be satiated.”

“By appetite you mean his sexual desire?” San asked, tilting his head. You refused to meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the table, studying the pattern of the wood grain and nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “He soon started to lose control of himself. Almost like he was slipping and the demon was starting to take over. He would physically change, too. His eyes, his voice, the burn marks on his body.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “One morning, I woke up to find the cabin empty so I went looking for him and found him by the stream in the forest. When I approached, he told me to stay away and when I didn’t listen, he lashed out at me. He ran and I tried to follow but I lost him in the forest so I went back to the cabin and waited for him to return.”

“And did he?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded wordlessly. “But he lost control again and I think this is when the demon finally took hold. He tried to attack me and so I ran back to the village where I ran into Yeosang. Since then, Hongjoong has been terrorizing the village and killing not only the livestock but also the daughters of the men who killed him. I’m the only one left now.”

You concluded your story to silence. Yeosang took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced up, resisting the urge to burst into tears. He gave you a comforting smile as the rest of your guests processed your story. “Thank you for telling us your story,” Yunho finally said. 

“Can I ask you something?” San inquired, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “Of course,” Yeosang answered. “If Hongjoong was your lover,” he started, addressing you before looking up at Yeosang. “How did she end up marrying you?”

“Before Hongjoong’s death,” Yeosang started to explain. “Her father had come to me, asking me if I would consider marrying Y/N. His fear with Hongjoong being blamed for the village’s misfortunes, his relationship with Y/N might paint her as a target,” he continued.

“So he wanted to distance his family from that and save their reputation.” You felt your stomach churn as Yeosang spoke. “If it had been anyone else, I would have said no,” Yeosang continued, making you look up at him.

“I said yes because while I wanted to protect Y/N, another part of me had already grown quite fond of her and I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t already love her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you stared at your husband. His eyes met yours and you suddenly understood, words from your wedding night replaying in your head. ‘I’ve always been yours.’

You tore your gaze from his, staring down at your uneaten stew.

“I see,” San answered softly. “So after Hongjoong’s death and Y/N came back,” Wooyoung started only for Yeosang to finish. “When Hongjoong was taken from the church and dragged to the tree, Y/N learned what happened and she ran away. I suppose her father decided that the agreement between us was no longer necessary since she was no longer in the village. No one expected her to come back. When she did, her father tried to reinstate the agreement but Y/N was in no state to marry anyone. She was catatonic, unresponsive —”

“An empty shell,” you interrupted, your voice soft. You could feel six pairs of eyes turn towards you. “What?” you heard Wooyoung ask. “An empty shell,” you repeated, a little louder. “When I came back, I honestly don’t even remember much. I remember running through the woods and I barely remember running into Yeosang and then after that, everything was just a blur. I don’t even know how long I was like that.”

“Sixteen days,” Yeosang answered. He looked up as you turned to look at him. “You were catatonic for thirteen and got sick. You were at death’s door for three days. Sixteen days total.”

A silence fell over the table as you and your husband looked at one another, a moment of understanding passing over you. “And then?” San asked, breaking the silence. Yeosang reluctantly tore his gaze away from you.

“And then, she woke up. She came back from the brink of death. Her mother nursed her back to health and when she was able to stay awake, Jonas and I came to get her account of the events that happened before she came back. She told us everything. Jonas left no stone unturned and you told him everything,” he said, addressing you at the end.

“Truth be told, I don’t think I could have told him everything if you weren’t there,” you admitted. “Jonas terrifies me.”

A look of confusion crossed Yeosang’s face but before he could ask you why, Yunho spoke up. “Now that we know all of this, we need to devise a plan of attack,” he said, earning a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. Yeosang glanced at your bowl and gestured for you to eat before he turned to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with you,” Jongho answered from beside Yunho. “The longer we sit around and do nothing, the more danger the village is in. “The more danger Y/N is in,” San added, looking at you as you finally took a bite of the stew which had since grown cold.

“So what do you suggest?” Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho. “We could always try to exorcize the demon from Hongjoong?” Yunho suggested, turning to look at Yeosang who contemplated. Jongo spoke up again. “If Hongjoong’s soul is still intact, that could work but in exorcizing the demon, he could just be killed.”

“He’s already dead,” Wooyoung reminded him. “We don’t even know if his soul is in his body.”

You set your spoon down, a little harder than you meant to, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as you turned to look at the red-haired man. “His soul is in his body,” you said simply. Wooyoung and San exchanged worried looks before San turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“We know you want to believe that, Y/N, but the chances are —”

“His soul is in his body,” you snapped. “Y/N,” Wooyoung tried to intervene but Yeosang held his hand up. “Let her speak,” he interjected.

“When he died, Hongjoong told me how he fell into darkness and felt like he was tortured for thousands of years,” you said, looking around at each one of the priests. “He also spoke of fire, brimstone, and burning. I think that maybe, his soul was sent to hell and when it came back it wasn’t because of his own determination. It was because something came back with him,” you explained. 

“Something not human.”

Several of the priests exchanged worried looks. “You think a demon latched onto his soul and came back with him and is now inhabiting his body?” Yeosang asked, making sure to clarify what you just shared. You nodded slowly. “And I think, if you try to exorcize the demon, it will pull his own soul out as well.”

Yeosang let out a sigh. “That could be possible,” Yunho said softly, looking at Wooyoung who seemed to be deep in thought. “Then an exorcism is off the table,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s no way around that. If a demon is bound to his soul, there’s no way to save him.”

San elbowed Wooyoung before glancing at you. Giving him a warm smile you spoke softly. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know what needs to be done and I know that it’s not the same Hongjoong. There is no going back. Not that I would want to, anyway.”

You glanced at Yeosang whose expressions softened and he took your hand gently. “So then we must banish the demon,” Jongho stated. It wasn’t a question. The rest of the table nodded in agreement before Yunho turned his head to look at Mingi.

“What can you tell us about witches and their connections to demons?”

Mingi looked surprised at being addressed directly and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Witches are thought to be in league with Satan,” he started, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table before him, his fingers interlaced as he stared at his hands. “But that’s only partially true. Just as there is light and dark in the world, this dichotomy exists in humans and by extension, witches.”

Mingi cleared his throat before continuing.

“There are light witches, those who use their magic and powers for the good of humanity. They tend to draw their powers from nature and the world around them. It is a good and pure form of magic. They use it for growing and healing. Dark witches, on the other hand, draw their power from a darker source, usually from making a deal with a demon or by blood sacrifices. The most common form of sacrifice is that of a child or infant,” he continued.

“But animal sacrifices can also be made in lieu of a human.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, recalling all the livestock that had been killed prior to Hongjoong’s death and the killings that continued. Whether or not the new ones were the work of the true witch or Hongjoong, you couldn’t be sure.

“The witch will offer a blood sacrifice to a summoned demon in exchange for powers far beyond the natural world. These powers can cause a wide variety of misfortunes should the witch place a curse. Crops can go bad, people can become sick, and demons can be summoned,” Mingi added.

“So Hongjoong was not one of these?” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang who nodded. “He was not,” you answered. “He used his magic for healing and growing. He had gardens that he used his magic on. Or whenever he found a hurt animal, he would heal it. He never consorted with the devil or killed anything unless it was for food.”

San nodded, accepting your answer before returning his attention to Mingi. “So then why would Hongjoong come back as a demon?” he asked. Mingi inhaled slowly before answering. “There are a number of reasons. Perhaps the villagers turning on him was part of the dark witch’s plan. Perhaps a curse was placed to make the villagers do so. If Hongjoong had a curse on him, it would explain why he not only came back but why his soul went to hell and a demon latched onto him. Perhaps…” Mingi trailed off, his focus shifting to you.

The others turned to follow his gaze as your eyes widened in realization.

“It was Hongjoong…” you whispered. Yeosang placed a hand on your back, leaning in closer. “Love? What is it?”

You looked back at Mingi. “It was Hongjoong!” you repeated louder. “Hongjoong was the human sacrifice!”

A look of realization drew over the faces of all six priests. “The witch used the animal sacrifices to create disturbances, turning the villagers against the one they perceived to be a threat to their lives,” Mingi explained sitting up. “The witch used the villagers’ hatred for Hongjoong against him, making them kill him for them to complete some kind of sacrificial ritual.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks as Yunho’s lips parted in shock. “And the ritual is now complete,” Jongho said softly as he looked at the table. “But what was the goal?” Yeosang asked, looking around. “What could the witch possibly gain by doing this?”

The wheels in your head were turning and you stood up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table and making a few of the priests jump. “The demon!” you all but shouted. “What if the demon is one the dark witch made a pact with?” Mingi’s eyes narrowed, brows knitting together until it clicked for him.

“The demon needed a body,” Mingi said quickly. “They made a pact. The witch would get their powers if they provided a human sacrifice in the form of a human body for them to inhabit! A binding ritual, of course!” Mingi hissed, hitting the table with his fist.

“A binding ritual?” Yeosang asked. “Is there any way to undo that?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Yunho also shook his head. “No,” he answered. “The only thing that can be done is to banish the demon.” Yeosang nodded, taking your hand without giving you a glance. “And how do we do that?” he asked.

“With a demon who has inhabited the body of a dead person, there’s only one way,” Yunho explained. “Bind the body of the possessed with a ritual, perform a banishing ritual and —” he stopped, turning his gaze towards you. “And removing the head of the possessed.”

You didn’t need to look up to know that all eyes were on you. “But before we get to any of that,” Wooyoung interjected. “We must first draw him out.” San nodded as his partner spoke. “And exactly how do we do that?” Yeosang asked, looking from San to Wooyoung.

“By offering the demon the thing it wants most,” Yunho answered.

You looked up, noticing the eyes that fell on you once more. 

“No.”

You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not using my wife as bait.”

You turned your body to face him and reached out to place your hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you. “We don’t have a choice,” you told him. “If we’re going to save the people of this village, we have to do this.”

“No!” Yeosang shouted, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table. You threw an apologetic glance at the table and got up, following Yeosang to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you. He stood by the hearth, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the fire.

You approached him slowly, taking note of the way he tried to hide his face from you. “Yeosang,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He shook his head, turning away from you. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. You grabbed his arm and turned him to face you.

His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’m not putting you in danger,” he finally said, shaking his head. You took his face in your hands and held him still. “If we don’t do something, the village will be in danger. Hongjoong will not stop until he’s killed or has killed me.”

Yeosang pulled you closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know it’s terrifying,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “But with six priests protecting me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Yeosang tightened his hold, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “You won’t,” you replied, stroking his hair gently. “We’re going to overcome this,” you continued. “Hongjoong must be stopped and if this is the only way to do so, I will gladly help.”

Yeosang pulled back, cheeks wet to look at you through watery eyes. “And what if you do die?” he asked. “What then?” You held his face carefully as you looked into his eyes. “Then it will have been to protect the people of this village and you. I can die knowing I tried my best.”

Yeosang’s hands moved, taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.” You pulled a hand free and pressed your fingers to his lips, shushing him gently. “We don’t even know for certain if I’ll die. Let’s talk with the others and I’m sure we can come up with a plan that keeps me safe while also drawing Hongjoong out, okay?”

Yeosang fell silent, cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Okay,” he finally said hoarsely. You pulled him into a kiss, taking care to wipe away his tears. “I’m going to be fine, darling,” you said softly.

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer when a distant scream rang out. His expression shifted in an instant and he turned his head in the direction of the scream. “What was that?” you asked softly. Yeosang took your hand and led you back to the living room where the priests had gotten up from the table and walked over to the door.

Mingi opened it and stood in the doorway, peering out into the darkness. Another scream rang out followed by a chorus of yells. “A house is on fire!” he announced, taking off into the night. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed as Yunho got up from the table and walked over quickly. 

You followed your husband to the door and as you stared into the distance you realized the house the third from the forest was ablaze. Your heart sank as your stomach churned. “That’s my parents’ house!” you gasped, trying to run out into the night but Yeosang grabbed you and pulled you back into the house. “No!” he said as he shut the door.

You tried to fight against him but he held you still. “Hongjoong could be out there. Stay inside this house and do not come out for anything. I will go.” You tried to protest but he held your face, staring into your eyes. “Please, Y/N. Please just stay here.”

You stared at him for a moment and decided he was right, conceding. “Fine,” you answered. “But please hurry! Make sure my parents are alright!” Yeosang pressed a kiss to your lips before he rushed the door, throwing it open and running outside. You moved to the door, peering out before shutting it and stepping back towards the table.

Footsteps pounded against the ground as Yeosang followed the others towards your parents house. The rest of the village had gathered, some shouting for help while others helped hold people back at a safe distance. Yeosang’s eyes scanned the crowd and relief washed over him as he saw your parents in the crowd, staring up at the house that was now engulfed in flames.

Yeosang squeezed through the crowd as he made his way over. Your mother’s tear stained face turned as he approached and she could only cry softly while your father stared up at the blaze with a dumbfounded look. “Are you alright?” Yeosang asked softly.

Your mother nodded. “We made it out okay,” she admitted. “But…” she looked up at the inferno. “We’ve lost everything.” Yeosang felt his stomach churn. He had an extra room in his house, he could offer it to your parents but he would of course wish to speak to you before he made any decisions as it was as much your house as it was his.

Before he could say anything, one of the neighbors nearby moved, wrapping an arm around your mother’s shoulders. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for the time being. We have plenty of room.” Your mother thanked her profusely and Yeosang sent the woman a knowing look, thanking her silently.

Yeosang turned and walked back to where the priests were huddled, Yunho and Mingi breathing heavily while Wooyoung and San were whispering to one another and Jongho studied the burning house. Yeosang noticed the smears of soot on both Yunho and Mingi, asking what happened.

“The burst into the house,” Jongho answered without taking his eyes off the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. “They were able to get your in-law’s out along with some of their important artifacts…” Yunho gave Jongho a peculiar look.

“Artifacts,” he muttered as he stood up straight, waving Mingi away as the latter attempted to brush soot off his clothes, and moved towards Yeosang. “The fire started upstairs,” Yunho said in a low voice. “When we went in, it was just the entire upstairs that was in flames.”

Yeosang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Upstairs?” he whispered. “Seems odd, does it not?” Yunho asked, looking from the fire to Yeosang. “For a fire to start upstairs and move down?” Yeosang nodded, turning to look at the house. “Very odd indeed.”

After the crowd dispersed with only a few remaining behind to make sure the fire didn’t spread, Yeosang walked with the priests back towards the church, bidding them goodnight before returning to his own home.

He turned the knob, exhaustion taking over his mind as he opened the door. He knew you were waiting for news and he would give it to you without hesitation. As he entered, he saw you sitting at the table. You looked up as he entered.

“Are my parents okay?” you asked as Yeosang closed the door behind Yunho and turned to you. “Yes,” he answered. “They’re staying with a neighbor. They’re fine, just in shock.” Yeosang walked over to the table and took a seat, sighing as you sat down next to him.

“What happened?” you inquired. Yeosang raised his head and met your gaze. “I think the demon set fire to your house in an attempt to lure you out,” he said. You stared at him, a look of confusion etched onto your face. “But I don’t live there anymore,” you replied.

Yeosang nodded and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he knows that,” he explained. “Hongjoong must have thought you were still at your parents’ house which means he doesn’t know you’ve left or that we’re married.” You fell silent, looking down at the table before back up at your husband.

“You could have easily been in that house,” he continued. “And the moment you left the house to escape the fire, he would have snatched you.” You swallowed thickly. “You cannot let your guard down until he has been dealt with.” You nodded, taking Yeosang’s hand.

“So we will deal with him. Let me join this plan. Yeosang pulled his hand from yours, getting up from his seat, and started to walk towards the kitchen. You got up, following him. “Y/N, no,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

You followed him as he entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed to remove his boots. “It will be dangerous for me until he’s gone,” you answered. “Until he is dead, I will always be in danger. What if he learns that I am here? How long until he tries to lure me out of the house and kill me?”

Yeosang looked up at you, exhaustion present on his face. You placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, resting his head against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding your close. “What if I’m pregnant?” you whispered.

Yeosang opened his eyes, leaning back to look up at you.

“You think he would spare me? Never. We’re not just doing this for the village,” you continued. “We’re doing this for us. For our future.” You placed a hand on Yeosang’s chest, pushing him back against the mattress as you climbed onto the bed and over him.

“I want a future with you, Yeosang,” you continued, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He tried to follow as you pulled back. “I want to have your children,” you added, kissing him again. “But we have to safeguard our future and the only way to do that is to kill the demon.”

Yeosang placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a much more passionate kiss before rolling you onto your back and pinning you underneath him. “If we do this,” he said once he broke apart from you. “Then you have to promise me that no matter what, you will listen to and do as I say.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, thumb tracing over the red mark near his eye.

“Of course,” you replied. “Promise me, Y/N,” Yeosang said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as you pressed a delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I promise,” you whispered, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Say all of it,” Yeosang ordered, his hand sliding down your neck to your chest, pausing before sliding down past your navel and pulling your skirt up slowly.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as his hand ducked under your skirt to find your already slick center. “Say that you will do everything I say.” You let out a small gasp as his fingers started to work your clit slowly.

“I—I will! I will listen to you and do whatever you say,” you replied, thighs spreading as Yeosang’s fingers dipped lower, finding your hole and gliding into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. “I promise!” you concluded, back arching as he curled his fingers.

Yeosang wasted no time, peeling your clothes off one layer at a time until he had you bare under him, removing his own shirt and pants before moving between your hips. He was in no mood for lengthy foreplay as he guided the head of his cock to your aching hole and pushed into you, slowly, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to rock into you, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside you, your nails scratching at his back as moans slipped past your lips, mixing with Yeosang’s name like a mantra.

“Yeosang, I—” you started but he pressed his fingers against your lips. “It’s okay,” he said breathily. “I know. Just let go for me, sweetheart. Give into it.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you allowed the feeling of your physical connection take over, a warm sensation building inside you. You felt a prickling in the corners of your eyes as tears threatened to spill.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears to look up at your husband only to find him already looking at you, eyes searching your face. He slowed his motions, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, burying your face in his neck. “I’m fine,” you sobbed softly. “Please, don’t stop.” Yeosang hesitated, stilling inside you as you cried softly.

Instead of resuming, he held you, arms secure as he let you cry. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “Let it out.” Your cries grew harder, muffled by his shoulder as he rolled you both onto your sides and stroked up and down your spine soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, pulling back and trying to wipe your tears away but he beat you to it, taking your face in his hands. He carefully wiped your cheeks and under your eyes before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m alright,” you said softly, sniffling. “I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Yeosang asked, letting out a soft chuckle when you nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and find you looking at me like that,” you replied. Yeosang stroked your cheek gently, a smile on his face. “Like what?” he asked.

“With so much… Love,” you answered. Yeosang let out another low chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again. “Well, why wouldn’t I look at you like that?” he asked, rolling the two of you over so you were on your back against the mattress.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a moan came out as you felt him push back into you, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up again until he was thrusting into you just as he was before your emotional outburst, leaving you breathless.

“M-more,” you mumbled. “More?” Yeosang asked, breathlessly as he stared down at you. You nodded quickly. “I can take it. H-harder.” Yeosang let out a sound that you could have mistaken for a laugh but all the same, he obliged you, thrusting into you hard but at the same pace as before.

Your walls contracted around him as your moans raised in pitch, bordering on cries of pleasure. Yeosang slid an arm under you, cradling your head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” he admitted.

You moved quickly, pushing him as you rolled him over, settling on top of him without his cock slipping out of you. You took over, keeping the same pace as his hands moved to your thighs. You resisted the urge to giggle as Yeosang let out a string of curses as your hips rose and fell, his cock sinking into your cunt repeatedly.

“That’s not very becoming of a priest,” you joked, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. You felt one of his hands move up your back before grabbing the back of your neck. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, pulling you in for a passionate but sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling his own moans of pleasure.

You broke the kiss after a moment, needing to breathe, and rested your forehead against his as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up to meet you, matching your pace. The sudden intense movement had you gasping, fingers curling into the sheets under your husband as your climax drew closer and closer, rapidly

You felt him tremble under you, signaling he was close to his own climax. Your walls fluttered around him as he let out another slew of curses, ranging from “oh fuck” and “shit.” Praises slipped out of his mouth between moans of your name. Your head rested against his shoulder, letting him take over and guide your hips down to meet his as he thrust into you passionately. 

“Oh fuck, I love you,” he gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the bed creaking under your bodies. His confession spurred you on, pushing you over the edge of passion and you came unexpectedly with a whine, fingers curling into his hair as his hips continued to move, driving his cock repeatedly into you as he chased his own high. “I love you, too,” you panted, pulling back to look down at him, meeting his gaze. “So, so much,” you added.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as his orgasm rolled over him, his hot cum filling you as his hips thrusted a few more times, making sure he emptied everything into you. “I love you so much, Yeosang,” you repeated, pulling him into a messy kiss, your tongues dancing together. He pulled back slightly, caressing your cheek. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” he whispered. You felt a small sob build in your chest but held it back.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Yeosang continued. “I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my entire world.” You leaned down into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder and let out a soft cry. 

Yeosang rolled onto his side, lowering you to the mattress. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry,” Yeosang whispered, gently lifting your head. “They’re not tears of sadness,” you admitted as he wiped said tears from your cheeks. “They’re tears of—”

“Joy?” Yeosang asked, his expression softening as he caressed your cheek. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “When you saved my life,” you started. “And stayed with me while I was on the brink of death, I realized something,” you said softly.

“What?” Yeosang asked, eyes studying your face. You looked up to meet his gaze. “That I’ve loved you for some time,” you replied. “I just didn’t realize it because I was so deeply connected to Hongjoong but there was always love in my heart for you.”

Yeosang couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “It just took me almost dying to see it,” you added with a dry laugh. “I have a confession of my own to make,” Yeosang said softly, drawing your attention as he continued to stroke your cheek.

“I’ve loved you since before everything that has happened. Since…” he trailed off, hesitating under your curious gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “Since before Hongjoong’s death.”

A silence fell over the two of you and Yeosang feared he might have crossed a line but when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, a smile crept onto your face. “I guess that makes two of us, then,” you whispered.

The following morning, you woke up early, getting dressed in silence as Yeosang lay tangled in the sheets. You exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and started to get started, making breakfast. After last night, you didn’t feel like going out to gather eggs or cook anything that would take too much time. You would rather just make something simple and get started on the day.

Today, Yeosang and the visiting priests were going to inform the village of the truth about the demon and Hongjoong’s return. The entire village was already aware of the demon’s existence but none knew that it was Hongjoong.

You heard the door behind you open and soft footsteps make their way towards you until you felt arms enveloping you as Yeosang wrapped you in his warm embrace. “I thought we might sleep in,” he murmured in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you admitted as you stirred the contents of the pot. “So I thought I would just get up and start the day.” Yeosang hummed as he slowly started to sway, making you sway as well.

You placed a hand over your stomach as a nauseous feeling bubbled up. Yeosang noticed, placing his hand over yours. “Have you checked the seeds?” he asked softly to which you shook your head. “I’ve had more pressing matters,” you replied.

Yeosang pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll go check,” he whispered, pulling away and taking with him the warmth. You heard him move through the house, the front door opening and closing. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to check the seeds, for fear that one of them was growing which would mean you were pregnant and that was something you didn’t need at the moment.

You had enough going on.

Yeosang returned a couple moments later, shutting the door slowly and walked into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe, a look of shock on his face. You looked back at him, your expression morphing as you feared the worst. “What is it?” you asked.

Yeosang looked up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was all you needed to see for your heart to sink into your stomach. “No,” you whispered. Yeosang looked down and it was then you realized he had something in his hand. “What is that?” you whispered. He stood up straight and walked over, something clenched in his fist.

He looked up at you, a look somewhere between an apology and concern etched onto his face. “I know this is the last thing you need, but…” he said as he held out his closed fist. Your eyes traveled down to his hand as he opened it. Lying in his palm was a small seed with a tiny stalk sprouting from it.

Your mother’s voice popped into your head. ‘If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.’ You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked up to meet Yeosang’s gaze.

“No. We… this can’t be happening…” you said, your breathing bordering on hyperventilating. Yeosang set the sprout onto the table and pulled you into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. I know the timing is wrong,” he continued. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “Look at me,” Yeosang said softly, tilting your head up. “We’ll face the things in front of us and once we’ve dealt with it, how about we leave? Go somewhere new and start over?” he asked. A small smile crept over your face.

“Really?” you asked quietly. Yeosang nodded, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Of course,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you want. Another village, a larger town, the mountains, the sea,” he said, listing off different locations. “Wherever you want, my love, that’s where we’ll go. Start a new life for us and for them,” he added, moving a hand to your belly.

“For us.”

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you left the house with Yeosang, heading for the church to attend the meeting. Upon entering, you followed Yeosang to the front where the rest of the priests were already sitting, talking amongst themselves. As you approached, San and Wooyoung gave you warm smiles and greeted you.

Yeosang guided you to sit next to Yunho, leaving one seat for him. Instead of taking it right away, he excused himself to go find Jonas. “You look different this morning,” Yunho said softly. You turned to look at him and noticed the others looking at you.

“Do I?” you asked to which not only Yunho nodded, but so did Wooyoung, San, and Mingi. “Much different,” San noted as he exchanged a glance with Wooyoung. You hesitated to answer, wondering if they could tell the difference was due to you finding out about the child you were carrying.

Before you could answer, Yeosang returned with Jonas. Your husband gave you a smile as he followed the elder minister to the doors to open them and allow the villagers in. While Yeosang was preoccupied, Yunho glanced at the others before turning to you and lowering his voice. “It’s a good type of different,” he whispered before leaning up and giving you a smile before turning to speak to San next to him as the rows behind you filled with villagers.

Yeosang returned, taking his seat beside you and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You pulled your hand from his, locking your arm with his instead, giving you a sense of stability as you leaned into his side. Yeosang made no attempt to move for sake of propriety. He did not care what the others thought. All that mattered to him was your happiness and safety.

The villagers could think what they liked. You were his wife.

As the villagers took their seats, you looked around, noticing your parents a few rows back and sent them a smile, one they returned. Despite everything that had happened to them, you were glad they were still alive and safe.

The doors at the front of the church closed and Jonas walked down the middle aisle towards the stage, nodding at the members as he passed before he finally reached the pulpit and turned to face the congregation.

“I’ve called this meeting because Pastor Kang has requested to be able to speak with all of you on an urgent matter related to the demon plaguing our village,” he started. He turned his gaze to Yeosang and nodded, stepping down. Your husband stood up and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he walked up, stepping up to the pulpit.

“As you all already know, a demon has been terrorizing the village since the death of Hongjoong,” he started, ignoring the hisses at the mention of the name. “You might also be aware that I sent word to neighboring villages, asking for the help from their clergy and as a result, five priests have come to help conduct an investigation as well as potentially help banish the demon.” 

Yeosang stopped, looking towards the front row as whispers rang out behind you. “We have come to learn after carefully investigating that the demon who haunts our village is Hongjoong, returned from the grave.”

There were several gasps and a new rush of whispers before Yeosang called for attention. “To explain further, I invite Pastor Jeong up here. He has experience with banishing demons and investigating their origins,” Yeosang said, gesturing at Yunho seat beside you. Yunho got up as Yeosang stepped down and returned to his seat.

Yunho took his place and murmured a greeting before starting his explanation.

“When Hongjoong was killed, his soul was sent to Hell,” he started. “Because he was a witch!” someone said and Yunho narrowed his eyes at the person who spoke. “No,” Yunho replied. “Not because he was a witch,” he continued. “But because the real witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for power.”

The congregation fell silent as Yunho’s words hung in the air. “I do not presume to know everything there was to know about Hongjoong, only what I’ve been told by someone who knew him very, very well,” he added, eyes glancing at you and giving you a warm smile.

“Nor do I pretend to know anything about witches or witchcraft as that is not my area of expertise and I will let Pastor Song speak on that in due time,” he continued. “What I know is that the demon the witch made a deal with was offered Hongjoong as a sacrifice and it took that. When Hongjoong was killed, the pact forced his soul to Hell where the demon latched onto him and came back to inhabit his body. This was the demon’s goal. It wanted a human body to inhabit so it could walk this Earth.”

You felt a chill run up your spine and shivered. Yeosang immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “The only reason Hongjoong’s soul was allowed to even return in the first place is because of something known as a witch’s box. Again this is not my area of knowledge and I will let Mingi explain when it is his turn to speak, but what I do know is that by creating one of these boxes, it connects a witch’s soul to the earth so if they were to die by accident, they could come back. It is a means to cheat death, so to speak.”

“The demon took advantage of this, which was probably communicated by the real culprit who summoned the demon,” Yunho pressed on. “We believe that there is another witch, the one responsible for the misfortunes that have befallen your village. This witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for more power and offered Hongjoong’s soul and body in exchange of their own, since they likely knew Hongjoong was also a witch.” 

“Who is the other witch?” a voice called out. “We do not know,” Yunho answered. “We don’t have that information yet.” This answer caused an uproar of discourse from the congregation. “How can you not know?!” one person shouted. Yunho looked overwhelmed by the sudden chorus of questions being hurled at him.

Yeosang stood up and turned to the crowd. “Dealing with the demon is much more important than dealing with the witch,” he said earnestly. “In time, we will uncover the true identity of this witch and see that they are brought to justice for their actions,” Yeosang said calmly.

“Who’s the witch!?”

“It could be any one of us!”

“It’s Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Yeosang in a panic as a look of pure anger crossed over his face. Before he could say anything, Jongho stood up, crossing to the pulpit, and motioned for Yunho to step down before stepping up.

“Pointing blame without any evidence to back up your claim will not only not help, but it will paint you as suspicious,” he sat calmly and clearly in a voice you had not expected to come from him. “Y/N is being actively pursued by the demon as it wants to kill her. She cannot possibly be the other witch. One more outburst of the sort and I will start taking names for a list of suspects.”

He then stepped down and returned to his seat as Yunho stepped up once more. Yeosang turned his gaze to Jongho and the two shared a look of understanding before he sat back down beside you, taking your arm in his as Yunho continued.

“As I was saying,” he started. “And as Pastor Kang has stated, we must deal with the demon first. This concludes what I know and I will now pass the torch, so to speak, to Pastor Song.” Yunho stepped down and walked back to his seat between you and San as Mingi got up and walked to the pulpit.

You watched as he paused briefly, looking at Jonas sitting against the back wall. He tilted his head as if he was studying the elder minister for a moment before he finally turned and stepped up into the pulpit to speak.

“Witchcraft,” he started. “Is not at all what you think it is. There are many types of magic in this world. The witchcraft of this witch that has been plaguing your village is what is known as dark magic. It is used to harm nature and people. It relies on blood sacrifices to work. Most dark witches use these sacrifices to make deals with demons in exchange for more power.”

“Light witches on the other hand,” he continued. “Rely on the natural world to create magic. They use their powers to heal and grow things. Which means,” Mingi said, pausing to look around at the villagers. “You killed the wrong witch.”

There was a silence that fell over the congregations before Mingi continued to speak.

“Hongjoong was a light witch, using his magic for good and the dark witch took advantage of this to use him as a bargaining chip to gain powers from the demonic entity that now inhabits Hongjoong’s body,” he added, taking his spectacles off. 

“This dark witch used smaller animal sacrifices to create curses and disturbances within the village, turning you all against Hongjoong so you might eventually rise up and make him pay for the crimes you perceived as his. By killing Hongjoong, you completed the human sacrifice necessary for the dark witch’s deal to work. Giving the demon what it wanted and by extension, giving the witch what they wanted.”

He fell silent as he turned to look back at Jonas. You couldn’t understand the look between them but the way Jonas looked at Mingi made you feel uncomfortable, almost as if he was… mad at him for what he was saying. Jonas looked past Mingi, meeting your gaze and for the briefest moment, you could have sworn his eyes changed.

You let out the smallest of gasps, barely even audible but Yeosang heard you, as did Yunho. Your husband turned, leaning over to look at your face. “Love?” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You nodded slowly, eyes wide as you continued to hold Jonas’ gaze, afraid if you looked away, you would forget everything.

Jonas was the first to look away as Mingi stepped back, apparently having been done speaking. Next up was San and Wooyoung. Mingi returned to his seat beside Jongho and you kept your eyes on Jonas as the priest and demon hunter spoke, laying out their plans to lure the demon in, using you as bait.

Your attention waned as you stared at the elder minister, waiting to see if his eyes changed again but they did not and he did not look your direction again for the rest of the meeting. As San and Wooyoung wrapped up their part, several members of the congregation started asking questions. Yeosang stood up, joining San, Wooyoung, and Mingi on stage with Jongo with Yunho staying glued to your side. While they answered questions, Yunho leaned over.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked softly so no one would hear. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Yeosang. “I think we saw the same thing,” Yunho continued. “We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”

As the questions wrapped up, the meeting ended and Jonas addressed the congregation one last time before dismissing them. The doors to outside opened as the priests returned to the bench you currently sat on, Yunho standing up. You stared at Jonas whose gaze swept over the crowd before finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes locked, a wave of fear washed over you. Having been standing, waiting to exit the church, your knees went weak, legs giving out on you and you fell back onto your seat, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N?” Yeosang asked, worry laced in his voice. “What is it, love?” he asked. Your vision went unfocused as you tried to gain control of your breathing which had become rapid and unsteady. “Y/N?” Yunho asked, kneeling down before you. You felt one of his large hands take yours. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“See?” Yeosang asked, his voice sounding far away. Within the blackness of your vision, you could see images of a hidden altar, line with animal bones and skulls. Blood stained the wood and a ceremonial knife sat nearby. Behind the altar, a hooded figure stood before a ring of candles on the floor, blood smeared in the middle into a crude sigil you’ve never seen before.

As the vision came, it went and your own vision returned, Yunho’s face coming back into view. “What did you see?” he asked softly. You looked up, searching for Jonas as he disappeared into the back hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. “I—” you hesitated. “I don’t…”

“Are you alright, love?” Yeosang asked, kneeling beside Yunho to look up at you, his face full of concern as he reached up to feel your cheek. “Air,” you gasped. “I need air.”

Yeosang stood up quickly, as did Yunho and they led you through the crowded church as more people spoke, trying to make sense of the information given to them. Outside only a few members had managed to make it down the steps. As Yeosang led the way to the door, the sky darkened. He looked up as he started down the steps. His eyes widened. Outside the church, littering the ground and amassed into a pile were what looked to be hundreds of corpses of crows.

Stand atop them was—

“It’s Hongjoong!” one person announced, turning tail and heading back into the church as others started to follow. Yeosang stood firm, blocking you from sight as the other priests also joined the line in front of the church. Hongjoong’s appearance had changed slightly. His hair was a little longer now and a slightly different color. Lighter now.

The horns protruding from his forehead had grown longer, starting to curve back over his head almost like a goats. His eyes were the same black with fiery, mismatched irises. He smiled a wicked smile, showing off his sharp canines as he hopped down from the pile of dead birds.

“Holding a village meeting without the guest of honor?” he asked as he approached Yeosang, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured at the other priests. “And I see you’ve already invited the entertainment,” he added with a chuckle.

“I take it this is the demon?” Yunho asked, turning his head to glance at Yeosang who nodded. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho. “Oh you’re a big one,” he said as he sauntered over. “Might be a little hard to digest,” he joked. As he turned, his eyes met yours and froze, the smile on his face widening. “Ah, there she is,” he said.

The priests closed in around you, shielding you from Hongjoong, making him look at them peculiarly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, chuckling. “Relax,” I’m not about to try and kill her in front of an audience,” he added with a snicker as he started to walk in front of Yeosang and peered around at you from the other side. “As fun as it would be.”

“I tried to visit you,” he said, chuckling. “But you weren’t home. I even tried to… smoke you out,” he added with a chuckle. You felt your blood run cold but anger bubbled up inside you. You tried to step forward but Yunho grabbed your arm, keeping you still.

“You almost killed my parents!” you shouted angrily. Hongjoong made a mock look of sympathy. “Awww,” he cooed. “How unfortunate. I meant to kill them.” You tried again to lurch forward, all love you had felt for Hongjoong evaporating in an instant. “No, Y/N,” San whispered from beside you. “That’s what he wants.”

“Why weren’t you at your parents’ house, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked, drawing your attention away from the demon hunter. “Because I don’t live there anymore,” you answered simply. “I was with Yeosang.” Hongjoong’s eyes studied you as his smile fell, being replaced with a look of curiosity. His eyes shifted to look at Yeosang before he glanced down and noticed something, clicking his tongue before he looked up to look at you.

“I see. You married him.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. “After everything you promised me?” Hongjoong asked. You resisted the urge to scoff, knowing it would probably just anger him. “Aren’t you trying to kill me?” you asked, changing the subject.

Hongjoong sighed. “Now why would I want to kill you?” he asked. “Why would I want to kill my guiding star? My little… Starlight?” A chill ran up your spine. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. Hongjoong laughed loudly. “Why not? Strike a nerve?” he asked. “Does it remind you of our love?”

“Love?” you asked. “You died, remember? The rope snapped your neck. The Hongjoong I knew and loved died that day.” The demon chuckled again. “The rope didn’t snap my neck, Stella,” Hongjoong said, using another nickname. “I said don’t call me that,” you snapped.

He ignored your words and continued. “He suffocated,” the demon said, its voice masking Hongjoong’s. “He hung from that branch, struggling and kicking for minutes as he was strangled. Until the breath left his lungs and the life left his weak, defenseless body!” Yeosang moved to block you from sight.

“Stop it,” he said. Hongjoong glared at Yeosang before he spoke again. “You want to know what his dying thought was?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. Yeosang glared back at the demon. “Don’t,” he warned. “It was of you,” Hongjoong said. “Of the night you gave yourself to him for the first time.” San started forward but Jongho put a hand on his chest, pushing him back in line.

“That was a night he thought about often,” the demon continued. “He loved you so much. And this is how you repay his love?” it asked, looking at Yeosang. “By marrying this… priest?” he spat. Hongjoong peered around Yeosang to meet your gaze, noticing the tears in your eyes. “I’ve thought about it, Y/N,” he started. “Long and hard and I’ve decided something.”

He glanced at the sky before speaking. “I don’t want to kill you,” he explained. “I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I want you.” A shiver ran through your body at his words. “For what?” Yunho asked, drawing the demon’s attention briefly. “For myself of course. I’d like to keep such a succulent little morsel like her nearby. So I can ravage her whenever I want —”

“You will not touch her!” Yeosang interjected as you pressed into his back, hiding from view. Hongjoong let out a sigh. “Tell you what, Y/N,” he said, raising his voice. “I will give you three days. Three days to come to me on your own,” he continued. You felt Yeosang’s hand grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You peeked over Yeosang’s shoulder to watch as Hongjoong walked back to the pile of birds, climbing up to the peak and turning around to face the church. “And if in three days, you still haven’t come to me, I will kill every single man, woman, and child in this village,” he added, ignoring the gasps of the villagers.

“Starting with your new husband.”

Your knees threatened to give out as Hongjoong vanished in a cloud of black mist. The sound returned to the area and immediately the villagers started to protest. “Get her home,” Yunho said in a low tone to Yeosang and the priests attempted to hold the crowd back as they demanded to hand you over to Hongjoong. Yeosang wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the church and back to the house with San and Wooyoung in tow for additional protection.

For a brief moment, you considered doing it but Yeosang reminded you of the plan already set in motion and that the demon would most likely kill you anyway.

“I’m not leaving the fate of my wife and unborn child up to fate,” Yeosang said as Yunho finally filed into the house behind Mingi and Jongho. “You’re pregnant?” San asked, turning quickly to look at you. You glanced at your husband briefly before nodding. “We just found out this morning before the meeting,” you admitted.

“I knew there was something different about you,” Yunho said as he moved to sit beside you. 

“So,” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang. “What’s the plan? Do we proceed?”

“Yes, of course we proceed,” Jongho interrupted. “We don’t know what else the witch promised the demon in exchange for power and they could demand more sacrifices for more power, we can’t be too careful. The demon must be stopped.”

There was a murmur of agreement and you let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, your vision swimming again. “Y/N?” Yeosang asked, moving to kneel before you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

You felt the urge to vomit but managed to push it down. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m just tired.” Yeosang cupped your cheek. “She should probably rest,” Yunho offered. “Lie down for a bit.” Yeosang nodded and stood up, holding out his hand. You took it, thanking him and saying a brief farewell to the others as Yeosang led you through the house to the bedroom.

He shut the door and walked you over to the bed, sitting you down and moving to untie your boots and remove them. “Here,” he said softly, pulling the covers back and helping you lie back before pulling the covers back over you.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “If you need anything, just call for me,” he added. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll make it tonight.”

Sleep came quickly for you the moment he left and shut the door behind him, leaving you to a restless slumber full of nightmares.

—————————————————————

The following morning you woke up, wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, the blankets pulled up around the both of you. Blinking sleepily, you started to settle back into a slumber, wondering when he had come to bed the night before when a sour feeling in your stomach started to bubble up. You knew the feeling all too well and were awake in an instant.

You scrambled to get up, waking Yeosang in the process as you hurried to get out of his hold and the blankets without falling. “What’s wrong?” Yeosang grumbled as you ran for the door, throwing it open and running to the front door. 

You managed to get it open, stepping out into the cool dawn, frost crunching under your bare feet as you ran to the outhouse, throwing open the door just in time to retch and violently throw up into the bowl.

Moments later, you heard footsteps and a sigh as you continued to spit up. After you felt you were finished, your stomach finally settling, you sat back, groaning as tears burned the corner of your eyes. You felt something warm drape around your shoulders.

“It’s alright,” you heard Yeosang whisper as he gently rubbed your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.” You allowed him to help you up and guide you back inside, ignoring the freezing cold ground under your feet. Once inside, Yeosang guided you back to the bedroom and sat you down, kneeling to wipe the bottom of your now wet feet before guiding you back to lay down.

Yeosang brought a cup to your mouth. “Here,” he said softly. “Rinse and spit. I know if you don’t you’ll wake up and complain about the taste,” he added as you obeyed, taking a sip of the water and swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back into the cup. “Well done,” he complimented as he stood up, grabbing the sheets.

“I’m fine,” you promised as he pulled the blankets up. “I know,” he replied. “It’s the baby,” he added as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll heat up something for you to eat,” he whispered before you heard his footsteps take him away and the bedroom door shut.

You must have fallen back asleep because soon, Yeosang was shaking you awake. “It’s time to get up, love,” he whispered. “You need to eat and get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.” You whined in protest, making him chuckle as he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get this done. Then we can come back here and sleep all night and all day tomorrow,” he said. “Sound good?”

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze and hummed in approval. “I really won the prize by marrying you, didn’t I?” you asked, your voice sounding groggy. Yeosang let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before he cupped your cheek.

“I think it was I who won, my dear,” he replied. “Now come,” he said as he got up. “Get dressed and let’s eat.” You sat up slowly as he retreated, shutting the door behind him. Pulling back the covers, you shivered slightly as you pulled off your nightgown and started to dress.

Once your clothes were on, including your boots, you exited the bedroom to find Yeosang at the hearth, checking the contents of a pot. “We have company,” he said softly as you walked over. You peered through the doorway to find Jonas sitting at the table which had not been moved from the living room back to the kitchen yet.

You walked over to where your husband stood. “What’s he doing here?” you asked under your breath. “He’s come to congratulate you on your journey to motherhood,” Yeosang whispered. You glanced towards the doorway before turning to Yeosang, clearing your throat.

“Yeosang, I don’t want to speak to him,” you started as Yeosang set the spoon in his hands down and took your face in his hands. “I know,” he replied. “I spoke with Yunho and he told me what you both saw,” Yeosang whispered. “But let’s not talk about that now,” he continued. “We’ll go out there together.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the door, entering the room with you in tow. Jonas sat at the table, looking out the window but as soon as the two of you entered, he turned his head, offering a smile. It looked pleasant enough but after what you’d seen, you felt it was out of place and chilling. Yeosang sat you down one seat away from Jonas, taking the seat between you as a sort of shield.

“News has spread of your addition to the village,” Jonas started, looking past Yeosang and directly at you. You glanced at Yeosang who nodded, speaking for you. “Yes,” he said. “It comes as a shock to us,” Yeosang said in a polite voice. “A shock?” Jonas asked, taking his eyes off you momentarily to look at Yeosang. You felt relief for a moment.

“I’m sure as newlyweds, you’ve been very…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering back to you. “Vigorous in your new couple activities.” His words sent a chill up your spine, the sour feeling back in your stomach. You could feel the bile rising up.

“Oh, uh,” Yeosang’s words failed him as he tried to think of some sort of response. “Well, I suppose,” he tried again but faltered, glancing at you. “Pastor Kang, could I have a word with your lovely wife. I could use a glass of ale. I’m quite thirsty and in her delicate condition, I’m sure she should be resting right now. Especially when you have such a big night ahead of you.” Yeosang hesitated, glancing at you.

Words failed him again and reluctantly, he got up, walking into the kitchen. The moment he was gone, you tried to get up, the sour feeling rising in your stomach, but Jonas grabbed your wrist, holding you down as he leaned forward to speak.

“If you think you saw something in the church yesterday,” he started, his grip on your wrist starting to hurt. “Then you are gravely mistaken, indeed. It was a trick of the light. Something conjured by that fanciful imagination of yours. But what you saw was nothing, am I understood?” he asked in a low voice.

You tried to pull away from him, the contents of your stomach threatening to spill any moment. You heard a door opened quickly and you turned to see Yunho walk in from the spare bedroom, making a beeline for Jonas who quickly let go of you, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. Yunho towered over the man as he sat back in his chair.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again,” Yunho started, not bothering to keep his voice down, drawing Yeosang out of the kitchen in a hurry. “I will not hesitate to expose you for what you are, snake,” Yunho continued. Jonas stared up at Yunho with a murderous rage.

“Please make sure our guest leaves, Yunho,” Yeosang said as he moved to your side, grabbing your wrist to inspect the marks of irritation that had started to form. Yunho made to grab Jonas by the jacket but he slapped the larger man’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you fool,” Jonas hissed at Yunho who narrowed his eyes. Quick as a snake, Yunho’s hand closed around Jonas’ throat and he pulled him up. Jonas choked and struggled against Yunho’s grip. “You will leave this village or I will expose you and leave you to the villagers’ wrath,” he said as he turned the knob for the door before shoving Jonas out.

Yunho glared at the elder minister as Yeosang checked your face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You shook your head. “I feel sick,” you moaned. You heard the door slam shut and turned your head to see Jonas marching back towards the church.

“What about the other priests?” you asked, looking up as Yunho moved to sit across from you. “They stayed with other families last night,” Yeosang explained, inspecting your face once more. “Turns out all the protective charms that Jonas made weren’t protecting anyone,” he explained. You turned your gaze to Yunho. “We discussed this yesterday while you were sleeping,” Yunho said, looking at Yeosang. “But we believe Jonas is the witch,” he continued.

“Or at the very least, aiding them,” Yeosang interjected. Yunho let out a dry laugh. “I know you want to believe in him, Yeosang,” he started. “But you didn’t see what I saw. Or what she saw,” he added, nodding towards you. “Ask her.”

Yeosang turned his head to look at you. “It’s true, his eyes—”

“No,” Yunho said, shaking his head. “Not his eyes. The vision.” You stared at him as it came back to you. “W-what vision?” you stammered. Yunho leaned forward, looking into your eyes. “I know you saw it,” he said, ignoring the way you shook your head in denial.

“Because I saw it, too. Last night. The witch, the altar, the summoning circle. All of it,” Yunho explained. “Everything makes sense now. It was all Jonas’ doing.” Looking at your husband, you could tell he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe his mentor was incapable of such atrocities but you knew what you felt when you looked at Jonas yesterday and again today when he touched you.

Jonas was the witch. The one responsible for everything. 

“What are you doing? We need to warn people!” Yunho smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “We’ve already done that,” he answered. Yeosang turned to look at Yunho. “What?” he asked. Yunho looked up. “The church is being searched now by the villagers. I instructed Jongho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung to mention something to the families they were staying with in passing. Of course, it might have taken some persuasion,” Yunho continued, shrugging his shoulder

“But at this time, I imagine the villagers are conducting a very thorough search of the church and Jonas’ room,” he concluded. He looked up to meet your gaze. “He will be forced to run and when we banish the demon tonight, he will lose his powers and won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he added. A small smile spread across your face.

Yeosang sighed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth before he finally relented. “Alright,” he said. “So we’re still going through with the plan?” Yeosang asked and Yunho nodded. “Of course,” Yunho answered, turning to look out the window. You followed his gaze in time to see a mob of villagers exit the church, dragging Jonas out with them. You turned away from the window, meeting Yunho’s eyes. “This village’s trouble ends,” he said softly.

“Tonight.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the plan was set into motion. You took a lantern, intent on leaving to head into the woods. Yeosang pulled you into a very tight embrace before kissing you. “Please be safe,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at the stream.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, taking one of his hands and placing it over your stomach. “Us. You will see us at the stream,” you replied, correcting him. Yeosang let out a small huff that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. He cupped your cheek and nodded. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Alright, Y/N,” Wooyoung said as you raised your hood. “It’s important that you guide him to stand in exactly the right spot,” he explained. “I know, Wooyoung,” you said softly, giving him a smile. “I know the mark.”

San gave you a smile as you turned to him. “If he tries to grab you, tie this to his wrist. It’ll hurt him enough to let go of you and you should be able to run away. We won’t be far,” he said, handing you a small garland. You tucked it away, thanking him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you looked around at them. The village was empty save for the priests and yourself. You were ready to play your part in the trap and the villagers had agreed to stay out of the way, keeping inside their homes with new protective charms over the doors and windows of their homes.

After another round of farewells, you headed for the woods, walking over the yellowed grass and dirt. You hadn’t been into the forest since Hongjoong chased you out and so going back felt intimidating. You’d never been afraid of the forest before but now you had a very real reason to fear it which had once been the reason you loved it.

Yeosang watched as you stepped into the forest, disappearing into the trees quickly and let out a soft sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Yunho standing beside him, looking to the forest where you had just disappeared. “It’s going to be alright,” Yunho said reassuringly. “She’s going to be alright.”

“Come,” Mingi said, turning to look at the others. “We have work to do.”

The sun was low enough it was filtering through the trees, elongating the shadows and bathing everything in a golden glow.

‘Golden hour,’ you thought as you walked through the woods, making your way to the cabin. Hongjoong rarely showed himself when the sun was out and so it felt like this was the best time to go into the forest and find his witch box.

Instead of following the path, you tread over the broken branches and fallen logs that littered the forest floor knowing it would get you to the cabin much faster. As you trudged further into the forest, you felt less and less safe. A stark contrast to how you used to feel.

You reached the cabin in no time and saw before you a scene you hadn’t been prepared for. The goats that once greeted you were lying in a pile in their shed, blood and feathers bathed the garden as you stepped over the mess and carefully pushed open the cabin door.

Inside the cabin was a mess. Furniture had been thrown around, destroyed and splintered wood littered the floor. There was blood all over the door and walls and feathers all over the floor. You walked further into the cabin and found the hidden panel. Pushing it open, you knelt down and peered in, finding it empty. 

You crawled into the small space, setting your lantern down and producing a small trowel. Looking around for any sort of marked spot, you found a small symbol carved in the wood of the cabin. Taking the trowel, you started digging under the spot for a few minutes until the tip of your trowel hit something. You unearthed a small wooden box and grabbed the lantern.

Carefully, you dusted the top off and found the carving in the top matched the amulet Hongjoong used to wear. You carefully opened it and found what looked to be a lot of small trinkets. You closed it, knowing you couldn’t waste any more time. You grabbed the lantern and scrambled out of the crawlspace. 

Once back in the cabin you made for the exit and froze in the doorway. Hongjoong was standing outside the garden gate, watching you. You took a deep breath and exited the cabin, walking towards the gate. He didn’t move, instead, watched you curiously.

As you started to walk past, he stepped in front of you, blocking the path. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a soft voice. You looked up, not expecting that. His eyes were no longer demonic but back to the warm brown you had grown accustomed to and fell in love with.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” you replied. “You told me if anything happened to you that I should take this box from its hiding place and bury it deep in the forest.” You gestured at the box cradled in your arm. Hongjoong glanced at it before his eyes met yours.

“Why didn’t you do it before?” You stared at him. “Well it was storming that night and so I planned to do it the next morning but then you came back that night and things just got… confusing,” you said softly. You glanced towards the setting sun. Hongjoong seemed to take notice. “Are you in a hurry?” he asked, sounding genuine.

You nodded. “Yeah, the woods aren’t safe at night,” you said softly. An idea crossed your mind. “I’m going to bury this now. Do… Do you want to come with me? See where I put it just in case?” Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing over his face as he nodded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before holding your hand out for him to take. He hesitantly took your hand and you walked, pulling him along as you headed for the stream. As you walked, hand in hand, you noticed how his hand was warm and it almost was as if he was himself again but you knew it was dangerous to think like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly as you walked. “I do, though,” you said, nodding, seeing bits of the stream through the trees. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have to do it?” You glanced up at him as you walked.

“Because I promised you I would and I keep my promises.”

Hongjoong studied your face before he looked down, noticing the ring on your finger. “Like you kept your promise to love only me?” he asked, sounding heartbroken. “You died,” you reminded him. “You died and became something else. I had to think of myself,” you explained. “I needed to get away from my parents. I just wanted to feel happy again,” you said softly. 

Hongjoong stopped, keeping a firm grip on your hand. 

“We could be happy,” he said as you turned to look at him. “Hongjoong,” you said, shaking your head as he let go of your hand and moved forward, closing the distance and taking your face gently in his hands.

“We could leave this all behind. Run away like we planned and live a life by the sea,” he continued. You pulled back, feeling your conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “No, we can’t,” you replied. “You’re dead, Hongjoong.” 

He looked at you in both pain and confusion. “You said you would always love me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I will,” you replied. “I will always love Hongjoong,” you repeated. He looked up at you. “But you are not Hongjoong.”

He stared at you until his form shifted, the fiery eyes coming back, horns reappearing. “You’re a very smart woman,” he said, Hongjoong’s soft cadence gone, replaced with this more confident and arrogant sound one. “We could be happy,” he repeated, his hand moving to your cheek. “I could be him,” he added.

His hand slid down to your throat, fingers brushing your skin. “I could be Hongjoong for you,” he whispered. The thought of a demon masquerading as Hongjoong made your skin crawl. It was bad enough he had latched onto his soul and possessed his body. “I could build you those cabins. What was it? A hundred of them? I could do that.”

You backed away from him, shaking your head. “No,” you answered. “You are a demon, pretending to be the man I loved. You’ve killed people. You wanted to kill me,” you continued. The demon took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.

“I don’t want that anymore,” he pressed on. “All I want is you now. I wish I could kill you but he would fight. He might force me out and I can’t have that. I worked too hard to get this body.” You stared at him in disgust. “He’s powerful. His thoughts. He wants you more than anything. More than life itself. I have never experienced such intense longing like this.”

“I have to have you or else the thoughts won’t stop.” You took a step back.

“You’ll never have me,” you replied. “You’re not Hongjoong. You’re a disgusting, vile demon who has killed good, innocent people. Hongjoong would be disgusted by what you’ve done with his body. You will never be Hongjoong!”

The demon lunged for you but you dodged his attempt and turned, heading for the stream, jumping over the sigil on the forest floor. The demon gave chase, running through it and just like that he was caught.

“Got him!” Wooyoung yelled. At once, the priests appeared from the brush and attached ropes to Hongjoong’s wrists and neck, holding him as Yunho prepared the banishing ritual.

“Y/N,” Yeosang said as he turned to look at you. “Head back to the village!” You looked at the ropes binding Hongjoong as he fought to free himself and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “It’ll take too long,” you said back. “I’m going further!”

Before Yeosang could stop you, you had turned and ran across the stream, following the path you’d look at, wondering where it led. 

Tonight would be the night you would find out.

As you ran through the trees, you followed the twists and turns of the dirt path as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. As you rounded the bend, an old stone building came into view. You ran towards it, stepping over the threshold and looked around. It was a round room with three open doorways and a smaller room opposite where you entered. It seemed to be structurally sound.

You approached a small round platform and stepped onto it, looking up at the stone ceiling before kneeling down and setting the box down. You drew a circle with a sigil inside, following Mingi’s instructions and carefully set the box in the middle, grabbing the firestarter Yeosang had given you and quickly lit a fire before lighting a small piece of loose fibers and dropping them into the box.

You quickly surrounded the entire circle with a protection circle, like Mingi has shown you and took a step back, looking at the small inferno before you. “Now no one can stop it,” you whispered as you sat back and watched it burn.

“We can’t hold him much longer,” Yeosang said as he watched Hongjoong struggle against the ropes. “It’s just so Y/N can burn the contents of the box,” he said, turning to look in the direction you had run. Hongjoong let out a roar, pulling at the ropes. Yeosang looked as the individual threads started to snap.

“Perhaps we better start,” he said, turning to look at Yunho who nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Jongho,” he added, turning to look at the monk. “You’re up.”

Mingi and Wooyoung tightened their grip on the ropes as did Yeosang. Yunho took Jongho’s place, allowing the youngest to approach Hongjoong from the front, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a small leatherbound book.

He looked up at the demon as it snarled and attempted to lash out. Jongho glanced around at the others as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

Jongho cleared his throat before speaking in a clear, unwavering tone.

“In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.” A chorus of affirmations rang out from the others before he continued.

“Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei. Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me,” he continued. Yunho glanced at the setting sun before turning to look at the demon. The ropes were becoming more and more frayed as the strength of the demon grew.

“I think we might have to skip formalities, Jongho,” Yunho said as he looked at the young priest. Jongho looked up, eyes examining the ropes before he lowered his eyes and started flipping through the pages of his book.

“Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu et Chrísti,” he continued, reading from the new page. “Eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre.”

San looked at Wooyoung with a quizzical look. “Does it always take you this long?” he asked, to which Wooyoung glared at him. “You can’t just recite a few words and then lop his head off,” Wooyoung answered. “It’s much more complex than that.”

At his words, the demon let out a roar, pulling at the ropes even more. “We don’t have time for this!” Yunho yelled at the two. “Jongho, I apologize, I know you have a penchant for doing this properly but we really cannot waste any time. We have to speed this up before we lose control of the demon!”

Jongho’s brows furrowed in annoyance as he flipped a few pages further and reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial of what looked to be blood. “What is that?” San asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Blood,” Jongho said simply. “The order Jongho comes from uses blood instead of water for rituals. They bless it the same way you do water,” Yunho explained.

Jongho flicked the vial towards the demon and immediately, a reaction occurred. The blood hit the demon’s face and started to sizzle, the demon letting out a demonic screech. “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis,” Jongho said in a loud, clear voice. “Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo!”

He turned to look at San. “Ready yourself,” he instructed. San nodded, reaching over his shoulder to grab the handle of the sword that rested against his back, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong. “When I tell you, swing and swing hard.”

“Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth,” Jongho recited the passage from his book.

“You know this next part. Recite your parts,” Jongho instructed, directing his words to San.

“Ab insídiis diáboli,”  Jongho said, not looking up from his book as a strong wind started to swirl around them.

San’s grip tightened on his sword. “Líbera nos, Dómine,” San said, keeping his voice steady as fiery eyes turned their gaze upon him.

Jongho pressed on. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tíbi fácias libertáte servíre.”

San’s look of determination did not waver as he spoke. “Te rogámus, áudi nos.”

Jongho looked up from his book as he recited his last part. “Ut inimícos sánctae Ecclésiae humiliáre dignéris.” He snapped the book shut as San pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, taking the handle with both hands.

“Te rogámus, áudi nos,” San repeated, bringing the sword up.

Jongho hit the demon with one more shake of the vial of blood but before San could bring the sword down, the ropes broke, sending Mingi, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Yunho flying backwards. Jongho stumbled backwards from the force as the demon lunged at San. A choke scream of pain rang out as the demon grabbed San’s weapon, ripping it from his hands and plunging it into the hunter’s chest.

Mingi got up, grabbing the snapped end of the rope in an attempt to gain control of the situation but the demon was quicker, grabbing his arm. Mingi tried to pull his arm away but the demon was too strong.

Yeosang looked up as Mingi started to let out a scream of pain and before his eyes, Mingi’s arm caught fire, spreading quickly throughout his body. Mingi fell to the ground, screams piercing the air as he rolled around. Yeosang attempted to get up, Yunho helping him up as the demon turned its attention on Jongho, leaping onto him and knocking them both to the ground. 

In a matter of seconds, the demon was able to take out three of them but Yunho was determined. He grabbed one of the ropes, fashioning a noose quickly before throwing it over the demon’s head and pulling as Yeosang grabbed another rope. Wooyoung, instead of helping, pulled out a dagger. “Wooyoung, no!” Yeosang yelled as the younger man went for the demon, driving the dagger into his side, managing to hit between two of his ribs.

Hongjoong turned, grabbing Wooyoung by the throat and squeezing. Yeosang watched as the demon lifted Wooyoung with ease, lifting him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Without wincing, he pulled the knife out of his side and stabbed it into Wooyoung’s abdomen, twisting the knife with a malevolent grin. He harshly pulled the blade out at an angle, slicing sideways into Wooyoung’s stomach before dropping him to the ground.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as Hongjoong stalked forward, Wooyoung’s dagger in hand. Yunho dropped the rope, getting to his feet, and rushed the demon. Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion as Hongjoong reached Yeosang. 

There was a sting in his stomach, just to the left of his navel followed by a burning sensation. Yeosang’s eyes traveled down as all sound seemed to be muffled, noticing the blade of the knife had been driven into his skin, through his shirt. He looked back up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze, the two staring at one another before Yunho tackled the demon to the ground.

Yeosang let out a cry of pain as the knife was ripped from his stomach, sending a fresh wave of pain throughout his body as he covered his stomach, blood beginning to soak his shirt. Yeosang fell to his knees, looking past Hongjoong and Yunho wrestling on the forest floor to the still bodies of San and Jongho. Wooyoung was still gasping for breath as he lay, bleeding out. 

Mingi’s charred body lay several paces away still smoldering. Yeosang heard a sickening snap and Yunho went limp, falling to the ground as Hongjoong stood over him. The demon turned to Yeosang, panting with effort. He grabbed the knife and walked over slowly, grabbing Yeosang by the hair and forcing him to look up at him.

“I could finish you right now,” Hongjoong said, pointing the bloodied tip of the blade at Yeosang. “But I have unfinished business with your wife. If you’re still alive when I come back,” he added, pushing Yeosang to the ground. “I’ll kill you then.”

Yeosang was unable to see which way Hongjoong went, but knew without a doubt it was the same direction you had gone. Despite the agonizing pain, Yeosang pushed himself up, keeping his hand over the wound in his stomach as he stumbled after, following the path just beyond the stream. He needed to get to you before something happened.

You sat motionless, watching the box burn, each item either turning to ash or charring. The small fire popped and crackled, providing a surprising amount of warmth as you rested a hand over your stomach. You looked down, feeling a small amount of triumph at what you had accomplished and could only hope the priests had been able to do the rest.

There was a small whoosh behind you and a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened as a chill went up your spine and slowly, you turned to look at the doorway behind you, finding Hongjoong standing in the only means of escape, hands covered in blood and a bloodied knife clenched in one hand.

Your eyes traveled up to his face, noticing the specks of blood all over his shirt, neck, and face. You scrambled up, backing away until your back hit the wall. “No,” you whispered as he looked up from the burning box. He started forward and you screamed at him to stay back.

He looked down at the knife in his hand and back up at you before tossing the blade aside, ignoring the clatter of the steel hitting the stone floor as he crossed the room to where you stood, caging you in as he grabbed your throat. “You’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Y/N,” he said as he pinned you against the wall.

You struggled against his hold, fingers slipping over the blood that coated his wrist. “Let me go,” you squeaked out, making him laugh wryly. “Let you go?” he asked in an almost hysterical tone. “Did you not hear me earlier, Starlight?” he asked, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, lips close to yours. “I. Want. You.”

You tried in vain to pry his hand off you, kicking as he slid your body up the wall, lifting your feet off the ground. “Whether you give in to me willingly or fighting doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end Starlight.”

You slid the garland San had given you from your pocket and quickly wrapped it around Hongjoong’s wrist. The effect was instant and he threw you to the side as he screamed in pain, the materials burning his skin.

You landed on the stone, hitting your head with a crack but tried to scrambled up and make for the archway. Hongjoong recovered quickly, crossing the distance and grabbing your ankle, making you trip and fall before he started dragging you back towards him.

“Please, please, please!” you screamed, trying desperately to grab onto the stone blocks of the floor. Hongjoong pulled you under him, rolling you onto your back as he pinned you against the stone floor. “Now you want to beg for your life?” he asked, laughing mockingly.

“After every stunt you’ve pulled. Luring me into that trap, burning that box, and then using that little trick with the garland? You think after all this, I’m going to show you mercy? You’ve been helping them all along, you slippery, little minx.”

You tried to kick him off but your efforts were in vain. “Please,” you said tearfully as his eyes traveled down to your throat. “I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, tears falling freely. Hongjoong looked up to meet your gaze. “Another trick?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. “I’m with child. Please,” you continued. 

“Don’t kill me.”

Yeosang stumbled along the path, one hand covered in blood that continued to seep out of the wound on his stomach. He leaned against a tree, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he pressed on. His breath was growing shorter, he knew he didn’t have long and he needed to get to you before Hongjoong did.

As he rounded the bend in the path, he noticed an abandoned stone building with a flickering light inside. ‘That must be where Y/N is.’ He continued forward, hobbling towards the building. As he reached the open doorway, he stumbled, falling to his knees, letting out a pained groan as more blood painted his hand. He let out a couple deep breaths before forcing himself up and through the doorway.

Across from him, perched atop a small platform, stood Hongjoong. At his feet, a ruined, burned box surrounded by a circle of protection. Yeosang looked back up and noticed you pinned against the wall behind Hongjoong, vines holding you up. You let out a gasp at the sight of your husband as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Let me go, please!” you begged. Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder before he sighed, waving his hand. The vines retreated, slithering away like snakes and releasing you from their hold. You rushed past him to Yeosang, dropping to your knees to look him over, only noticing his bloodied hand as you looked down.

Hongjoong stepped around the box, stepping down from the platform as he watched as you fretted over Yeosang. You turned to look at him, tears in your eyes. “Please,” you begged. “Save him. If Hongjoong is still in there, please save Yeosang!”

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t hear you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hongjoong is buried deep inside. And besides,” he said, starting to pace the room behind you. “I doubt he would willingly help the man who stole you from him.”

You turned to look at him. “He didn’t steal me!” you argued. “Hongjoong died, you tried to kill me, and Yeosang saved me. I owe him everything. I love him.” You felt Yeosang grab your arm, looking up at you wearily. “Run,” he panted. “Leave me and save yourself.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. “No,” you replied. “I’m not leaving you behind!” You heard Hongjoong stop pacing behind you and turned to look at him. “He’s right, you know. You should run. I’ll even cut you a deal,” he said with a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You run now, I’ll focus all my attention Yeosang. Draw out his suffering before I kill him and when I’m done, I will hunt you down and do the same to you. Think of it as a head start,” he said with a wicked grin, a malicious glint in his eye.

You stared back in horror. “You said you didn’t want to kill me,” you reminded him. Hongjoong smiled, laughing to himself before it subsided. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I lied.”

Yeosang started coughing and you turned as he coughed blood into his hand. “Oh,” said Hongjoong in mock concern. “That doesn’t look too good.” You turned to glare at him, tears streaming down your face. “Now is your perfect chance to run, cause if he dies before you get very far, it won’t take me that long to hunt you down.”

You shook your head. “You’re a monster,” you spat. “How charming,” Hongjoong said in a monotonous voice as he stared back. “I’m offering you a chance to live just a little bit longer and you’re calling me names for it.”

“I’m not leaving!” you shouted. “I’m not a fucking coward, like you!” You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “I’m not running.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do what you have to,” you whispered. “I’ll buy you some time.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before crossing the distance and grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you from Yeosang’s grasp. “No! Don’t. She’s pregnant!” he yelled as Hongjoong dragged you back, making you face Yeosang as he forced you to your knees. “She already tried that,” Hongjoong scoffed.

He produced the knife taken from Wooyoung and brought the edge of the blade to your throat. “No, no, no!” Yeosang shouted. “It’s not mine!” he yelled, drawing Hongjoong’s attention. “What?” the demon asked. “It’s not mine,” Yeosang whispered. “She was pregnant before we were ever intimate. She got… so sick before we got married. She was sick for days. Throwing up blood and I thought maybe she’d been poisoned,” Yeosang explained quickly.

“But I think she was pregnant.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the priest before looking down at you and back up to Yeosang slowly. “And there’s only one other man she’s been with,” Yeosang added. You sobbed silently as Hongjoong lowered the knife, pointing it at Yeosang. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked. 

Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But you must have known when Hongjoong came back, they were intimate. You were already inside his body. Did you not take control sometimes? During the act?” The demon stared at him. “And what if I did?” he asked. “What would that change?”

“That could be your child,” Yeosang answered. “It wouldn’t be mine,” the demon answered. “It would be Hongjoong’s.” Yeosang shook his head, holding a hand out as he rushed to buy some time. “No, not if you were in control when you climaxed. It would be your child.”

The demon looked back up. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he asked, letting out a humorless laugh. “This changes nothing. You’re both going to die.”

You let out a sob as Hongjoong grabbed the back of your head. “Look at him!” he ordered. “I want his dying face to be the last thing you see,” he added as he brought the blade back to your throat. “Y/N, look at me,” Yeosang said suddenly as you gasped between sobs. “Look at me, sweetheart.” You blinked the tears away, meeting his gaze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do what you have to,” you added. “I love you, Yeosang. So much.” His eyes widened as you glanced down at the box before you turned, lunging at  Hongjoong and knocking the both of you backwards, the knife falling from his hand with a metallic clang. Yeosang dropped his hand to the stone, quickly drawing a small sigil as you and Hongjoong wrestled on the floor, both of you grunting in effort.

“Fortress of stone, hear my words and hold this creature of evil at bay. Let him not travel from this place for eternity as long as the stone endures. Hide him away from the world and keep him imprisoned,” Yeosang whispered as he finished the symbol.

With a loud snap, Yeosang looked up as Hongjoong sat up, staring down at your lifeless body. A sob left Yeosang’s lips as the demon got up, stumbling backwards as he stared, wide eyed at your corpse. The fiery eyes had returned to Hongjoong’s warm brown ones and in a cruel joke, the demon forced Hongjoong to look on in horror at what he’d done. “I’m…” Hongjoong whispered as Yeosang dragged himself over to where you lay.

Hongjoong looked up as Yeosang reached you, pulling you up to cradle your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—” Hongjoong said as Yeosang looked up at him. “I know,” Yeosang answered. “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.” He looked back down, caressing your still warm cheek. “It was one last cruel act of the demon to break your spirit and I daresay it worked.”

When Yeosang looked back up, the warm brown eyes of Hongjoong were gone, the demon’s eyes were back and he looked down at him. “Very observant indeed,” the demon said with a sneer. “I was going to kill you,” he continued as he started to walk past. “But I think I’ll just let you bleed out. It’s more fun that way.”

Yeosang let out a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to stay and watch,” he said, looking up. Hongjoong turned at the doorway to look at him. “I’ve bound your demonic soul to this building and now you’ll never be able to leave,” Yeosang explained, pointing at the sigil which was now etched into the stone and no longer written in his blood.

“As long as any part of this building stands, you will be stuck here for eternity,” Yeosang gasped, as his grip on you lessened, the strength leaving his body. He was able to give the demon a smirk of his own as those fiery eyes turned to look at him in a murderous rage. “My parting gift to you.”

Yeosang slowly succumbed to his wound, slumping over your body as he finally passed out. Hongjoong turned to the doorway and attempted to reach past it, finding an invisible barrier keeping him from leaving. He tried again only to be forced back. He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the stone wall as he tried in vain to break the stone and free himself.

He threw himself against one of the walls and screamed in anger towards the stone ceiling, the sound reverberating off the stone. He sat in silence, breathing heavily as he stared at yours and Yeosang’s lifeless bodies and then the burnt box. He looked away, anger still coursing through him until he saw the three open doorways, staring at them for what felt like hours.

Finally, he got up and walked over, peering into each one before he started to inspect the walls more closely. He turned about the room a few times before he walked over to the small platform and stepped up onto it, looking around before raising his gaze to the ceiling, noticing the small open circle in the middle.

He looked down and took a seat at the edge of the platform, looking at you and Yeosang once more before scoffing. “Well,” he said, admitting defeat. “You certainly got the last laugh in,” he continued. “And since I’ll be stuck here for the foreseeable future,” he added.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me unless stated otherwise.

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 9

Summary: you're losing your grip

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, pinching, oral sex (F and M receiving), face riding, pussy job, creampie (?), mentions of forced tattoo, mentions of branding, D/s dynamics, teasing, exhibition, spanking, pearl play, dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Chris tattoo edit by @nixakimbo

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You give a small moan as the most beautiful sight plays in your subconscious mind. Moaning out loud. Your dream Steve was being so soft, and you hadn’t realized it was something you craved. His lips kissing over your body, and you hate how hard and long holding out on him was going to be. Whimpering out his name, and hoping you never had to wake up.

His touch becomes more harsh, “Steve,” you whine, wishing he would go back to his softer smoother motions. It was too early, and you didn’t want that kind touch.

“Steve! Ow!” Screaming out loud. You wake up to him pinching both your nipples in a vice grip. “What the hell?” You scream as you sit up in bed. Smacking at both his hands until he removes them from your throbbing tits. “That hurt!”

“Unless you let me fuck you, you cannot be making all that fucking noise in your goddamn sleep! Fuck, Dovey. I’m fucking hard again. Can you not suck my cock?”

“No! You,” you look down at your chest, and rub on your bruising tits. “You pinched me!”

“And your naked ass was rubbing on my cock, while you were making those fucking noises. Dove, I can’t stand this. Let me fuck you!”

“No.”

“Please. Dovey, baby, please let your Captain fuck you.”

“Do I have your heart?” You ask, cocking up your eyebrow. Steve’s face tenses up, and you can’t help but smirk. He was avoiding answering. “Then no,” you turn away from him, and lay back down. You are going to go back to sleep, and enjoy the softer him.

“Fucking hell, Dovey. This isn’t even fair!”

“You branded my neck without my consent. Now you can wait on my cunt with my consent,” Steve growls, jumping out of the bed, and starts stomping to the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

“To fuck my fist again!”

“Steve!”

“No!” He spins on his heels, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare use your whiney voice. I can’t stand this. I can’t function properly. Because your fine ass sleeps in the bed every fucking night naked. And then I wake up to you doing that thing with your ass on me, and making those fucking noises, and it isn’t fair. Fine, I branded you, so brand me.”

You stare at him, your eyes unblinking, but shake your head no. “Fuck yes. Brand me, and then you’ll get over this bullshit.”

“You think this is the only thing I’m pissed off about?”

“Well, goddammit, Dove, you sure the fuck like to bring it up all the fucking time!”

“You didn’t give me a fucking choice, Steven. You held me down while I begged you not to do it. So…”

“I’ll let you do it,” wrapping your arms around you, your eyes start to well up with tears. He didn’t get it. “Yes, baby, I’ll let you choose the method, and what you want. I know I’m tattooed pretty much everywhere, but — fuck,” he whispers, moving closer to you, and wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“Dovey, baby, please. I want us to move past this. Just tell me what it is I need to do, and I will do it.”

“You will do anything just to fuck me though.”

“I’ll do anything to make you mine. Whatever you want,” he is damn near pouting like a child. Begging for anything that would make you give up the one thing that was keeping you in control.

“I want you to give me your…”

“I can’t, so don’t ask me. I want to protect you. I want for you to be my queen, but you won’t let me,” sniffling, you lean back, and stare into his crystal blue eyes. You heard him, but aren’t sure if you believe him.

“But you keep me here in this cabin, or at school.”

Gulping, Steve nods his head. His hands, caress your back, and you finally slow down enough to feel his massive and hard cock, pressing into your stomach. “It’s done. Whatever. And I still want you to brand me.”

“Steve?” He hums, acknowledging you, and a sinful smile pulls up your mouth. “I want to try something.”

“Whatever you want, Dovey.”

“Take off your underwear and lay on the bed,” his tongue swipes over his lips before he brings his bottom lip into his mouth. Biting on the puffy pillow, “Please? Or we could watch each other get off.”

“As hot as that sounds, I am curious what you have in mind,” his arms drop from around your body, and he steps back. Letting your eyes wander over his chiseled and decorated body before he pulls down his boxers. His angry cock bounces up, and you stare at the beads of precum leaking down his member. Coating his piercing, and you sigh knowing that cock is yours.

“Hey, Clarence,” you giggle, nodding to the bed.

“I really hate the name you gave him.”

“Clarence is my friend. Aren’t you buddy?”

“Until Clarence destroys you for other men,” like you are ever going to know. If Steve has it his way he is going to murder anyone that so much as looks at you like they want to fuck you. If he could read minds, he’d kill any man that dared to have an illicit thought about you.

“Steve, get on the damn bed,” rolling his eyes, he clamors onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he watches your naked body. “I saw this on a video once.”

“Porn is not real sex, Dovey.”

“And we’re not having sex. Shut up, and lay there,” you crawl onto the bed with him, and look down at his monstrous dick. You still aren’t sure where the hell he was going to fit that. “You can look, but not touch right now, okay?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Okay?”

“Fine,” Slinging your leg over his body, you start kissing up his dick. Giving him a clear view of your glistening folds before flattening your tongue, and licking up the thick vein. “Fuck me,” he groans when you flick your tongue over his slit. Moaning at his salty flavor.

“Yeah, like that, baby,” it is almost a whine as you suck over his spongy tip. “Take it all,” you respond by wiggling your ass, and he wants to foam at the mouth. “Can I spread you apart?”

“What?” Lifting off him, you peek around your ass. He is staring at your cunt like a kid in a candy store. Ready to devour every bit of your honey.

“I won’t touch, I just want to stare at the face of God just a bit better.”

“Don’t put your finger inside of me, and I’ll let you spread me open, Captain. But I’m also just getting started.”

“Fine. Ahh!” He yelps when you wrap a hand around the base of his cock, and slap Clarence over your lips. His thick mitts grab each globe of your ass, and split you open. Letting his fingers drift lower, and he pulls apart your pussy lips. Moaning when you clench around nothing. Your arousal is getting so sticky and sweet, and all he wants is a little taste. Just a tiny bit, but he wants to know all you have planned.

Your little bean needs to be flicked, and your tight hole needs to be filled, but the way you are sucking on his dick was enough for him to come undone. “Don’t come unless I tell you, too,” you tease, looking back at him. Waiting on him to look at your sly little grin before swallowing him whole.

“You’re such a brat,” if he wanted to see a brat, you would show him one. Quickly you sit up, and drop yourself right onto his face. Grinding over his mouth, and let him slurp up your juices. Your hands press down into the mattress as you ride his face. My goodness, he is good. You could come right now. Letting his lips circle around your clit as he sucks on the pearl.

You’re gonna come. But you won’t let him enjoy cleaning up your honey. “Yeah. Captain!” He loves hearing your sweet voice call him that. His cock is throbbing at getting you off. Bringing up your hands to your tits, you give your nipples some stimulation as you let Steve work you over.

“So good, Captain. Right there. Yeah. Fuck yeah,” he swats at your ass, and you moan even louder. “Fuck, Captain,” another slap. “So fucking good! Ahh!” Screaming at your release as Steve smacks you again, you lean back down, and bob a few times on his cock.

“Oh, come on!” He shouts, having to stare up your petals soaked in your cream. Your sticky slick coats your thighs, and you need to be properly cleaned, “Dovey!”

“Enjoy looking at your brat, Captain,” he licks your remaining slick on his lips. Mesmerized at how pretty your pussy looks. Knowing how much better it will look, gaping, swollen, and coated in his cum. The messier your cunt looked the better. He was going to have to get a camera to record him destroying you. Owning you. Filling you up with his essence.

“Okay,” you chirp, sitting up, you turn to look at him.

“Now, that’s a bunch of horse shit. You better fucking finish the job. If you come, I better come.”

“I’m still not finished, Captain,” you promise so sweetly as your other leg swings over him. “I want Clarence to feel me,” holding the base of his cock, you sink down until you feel the cool metal from his piercing at your entrance. Rubbing his tip through your folds, and tempted to just push it through your hole. Holding it right there.

“I’ll let you do it, but I wouldn’t advise letting gravity have its way with you. What’re you doing, baby? Is this what you saw in the — holy fuck,” he whines as you lay him flat, and you settle your weight over his length. Letting your pussy lips be on either side of his cock.

Steve sits up, looking down at his stomach. This isn’t at all what he had planned. Seeing you innocently biting at your lip as you start to move over him. Your drenched cunt rubbing over his length in the most delightful way. He would have never taken the time for this. It was always about getting it in, and getting his feel before he’d leave his cum on their chest, their face, whatever. Never inside of them.

But with you he wanted to see you dripping with him. Wanted to watch your face as he split you open for the first time. He needed to see every change to your face. Hear all your sounds of pain and discomfort turn into blinding pleasure. He needed to see and feel it all.

But this not only feels amazing, it looks even better. Your sweet whimpers while you use him to get off. Even the bounce of your tits as you start to pick up speed, “Can I touch you?” You answer by nodding your head quickly. His hands slid up your body before cupping your breasts. Kneading each one of them with the expertise that only he has.

“You look so gorgeous, little bird. You’re making your Captain feel so good,” you start panting at his words. He admitted he was yours. “Clarence loves the way your pussy feels. Fuck, I need this, Dove. Everyday until you give me what’s mine. You’re going to take me so well, too. This pussy was made for me. She’s going to be molded to your Captain. The perfect fit, Dovey.”

He smiles when your movements become erratic. He isn’t sure if it’s the gyrating of your hips or the praising, but he is loving this. “I knew you could be a good girl for me. I can’t wait to feel all of you, Dovey. You’re all mine, and my body is all yours. Have you stretched so tight around me, and I’ll kiss away every tear that spills from your pretty eyes. There ya go, Dove. Right there, baby. You’re doing the best job for your Captain. Oh fuck, baby!”

He pinches and rolls your nipples as your legs start trembling. “There’s my girl. Look at how pretty you look when you’re coming. Go on, Dove. Ride it out. Ride out your high, darling,” he can feel your juices soak his pelvis, and while he was close, he was going to let you come down from this high.

“Thatta, girl,” removing his hands, he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, and twists you around. Hovering his body over yours, his thick fingers brush back your baby hairs as he waits on your eyes to open back up. “How was that?”

“You didn’t — Capt…oh,” your voice sinks away when his hips thrust himself through your lips. It isn’t sex, and in a way, it is much more intimate. Steve looks over your face, and just how utterly spent you are becoming. Squeaking, and trying to mutter out his nickname.

“Shh, enjoy the ride,” he whispers before starting to nip at your neck. Giving the sensitive column open mouth kisses as you cling to his back. His whole weight was on top of you, and you wanted more. If you could speak, you’d tell him to have it right now. To go ahead and sink into you for real, but you couldn’t.

His pelvis drives through your folds quicker, the ball of his piercing rubbing over your clit, and causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head. You keep your legs good and spread to accommodate the thick body of Steve. A limp noodle. That’s what you were. Lifeless, but full of the most blinding pleasure.

“Dovey, I’m about to come, where do you want it?”

“Like…like that first time.”

“You want me to try to get some in you?” Vigorously you nod your head, and he hates he had to ask you. He wants his seed so deep inside of you that it makes him crazy. Sitting up, he chokes his cock a few times, before pressing the tip right at your entrance, and you simper as his warmth coats your pussy.

“Did some of it get in me?” Chuckling, Steve leans back on his heels, and spreads you out. “Yes, Dovey. Some of it got in there. I’d finger it in you, but I don’t want you to get pregnant like this.”

“Steve, I have an IUD,” he growls, his jaw pulsing. “What is it?”

“We gotta have that removed.”

“But…I don’t want to get pregnant right away. I want you to have me dicked down so hard I can’t walk. And I just don’t want to worry about that. Steve, I did this for us.”

“Fine. A few months, but then I want it removed. Because I will fuck you so hard and deep that your belly starts to swell with me. Fuck,” he grits his teeth, getting out of the bed. He doesn’t say another word as he walks into the bathroom. Returning with a warm washcloth he cleans you up. Finishing, he leans forward and peppers the sweetest kisses over your core. Letting a kiss linger as his eyes drift up to you, and he stands up swiftly.

“I need a cigarette. Go back to bed. I’ll be back in just a minute,” his voice is short, and almost angry? Puzzled?

“Okay,” you look at him a bit confused, but crawl under the covers, and hold them tight around your body. He was acting funny, and you aren’t sure why.

Steve stands just outside the front door. Keeping it wide open as he stares into the cabin. Taking long drawls of the stick. He knows he’s starting to lose his mind. First offering to let you brand him, and now this. He wouldn’t lose his touch, but he also wasn’t going to lose you. Yeah. He wanted you pregnant to keep you. It’s all it was. And that is a secret he would keep to himself.

“Hey,” you are thankful that there was a break from classes, and you could lounge around all day. But the random visits from Natasha were annoying. “Ahem,” she clears her throat, and you grunt in response. You want to be left alone.

“I hope your tits are covered, I’m coming in there.”

“Ahh,” you bring the covers up around your chest, jolting up in bed. “What are you doing?”

“I did warn you,” she pulls open your curtains, and you notice a box in her hands that she tosses on the bed. “There. It’s for you to wear. Steve will be here at five. You need a shower. Change the fucking sheets on the bed, and get used to people looking at your body. Steve loves showing off what he has that no one can touch. You could take a bath and get good and relaxed. Isn’t there some oils in there? Make yourself look nice.”

“What is going on?” Asking as you timidly pull the box towards you.

“Aww, your tattoo has healed nicely. I heard about it. You really let him do that?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” reaching into the box, you pull out a slinky dress. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m going to tell your lover boy you said that,” she gives you a quick wink. Was everyone aware that Steve didn’t like you using profanity? Everyone single one of them were probably watching and listening, just to tell him, “You’re going on a date. He’ll be here at five. Don’t be late.”

“I don’t have any shoes for this dress.”

Natasha takes a calculated step towards you before cupping your cheek. Her thumb traces the outline of your kiss bruised lips, and she smiles sweetly at you. “Honey, you belong to Steve Rogers. He’ll bring everything else that you’ll need for the date. He sure is breaking you in nicely. Have you let him fucked you yet?”

“No. His cock scares me,” your voice is so weak as you put the dress back in the box. You’d get it out after your bath.

“Why?” Natasha tries to stifle her giggles, and you swat her hand off your face. Glaring up at her for mocking you, “Ooh, she’s feisty, but too scared to take little Stevie’s dick. You know it’ll fit.”

“Three fingers hurt.”

“And that veiny cock is going to sting. Surely three fingers eventually feel good? I bet you like a little bit of the pain, don’t you? Is it true he’s pierced?” Her perfectly arched brow moves up, and she grins at you once again.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m talking about his — you sly dog. You won’t let him put it in your puss or your ass, but you’ll take it in your mouth. What gives?” Shrugging, because it was killing you to continue to deny him. And ultimately yourself. “Things stretch.”

“That sounds awful!”

“At first,” shocking you, she flops down on yours and Steve’s bed, grimacing as she looks at you. “Please, tell me the two of you just sleep here.”

“I’m naked,” of course you and Steve didn’t just sleep in here. You and him were discovering ways to pleasure yourselves and each other without penetration. It was beginning to suck.

“Shh. I don’t need to hear that. I’m going to give you some pointers because you and your baby bird talons have managed to do something to Steve. You want to fuck him, yeah?”

“Duh,” you cover your mouth, trying to stop yourself from giggling. “But it’s so big!”

“Don’t…stop. Keep your tits covered. The pussy stretches to accommodate large things. I mean babies come out of that hole,” gasping, you take that information in. “Oh, you’ll experience that as well. Steve is going to have his babies. But you’re freaking yourself out about it. Let it just happen. He’s not going to just shove himself in there. He’s going to, you know, play with you.”

“This is really awkward,” the way everyone is so open with your sex life, and your body is slightly embarrassing. Natasha is better than Bucky or Sam, but still. The principle of the matter is you need to get used to this.

“Use one of your toys, and…”

“I’m not allowed to have penetrating toys.”

Her mouth falls open as she looks at you. Reaching around you to your side of the bed, she pulls open the drawer, and starts laughing, “Not allowed? And you behave? I’d like for someone to tell me I couldn’t do something. What is this shit? What do you even do with them?”

You spend a lot of time swatting Natasha. Getting her out of your drawer, you close it. Turning to look at her with a glare, “But I’m not you. I don’t mind being told what to do, and also testing his boundaries. And, well…I do want Steve to be the first thing, ya know? Like that’s somehow romantic in our fucked up relationship. He’s the only person to ever be inside me,” Natasha tilts her head to the side, her eyes flit around your face as she studies you. “And only his fingers. And mine. And I like that. And I don’t know if what I’m doing is making him want to beg for me. I don’t want to be the one that breaks.”

“So you want him to break?” You can see the mischievousness in her grin as she looks towards the door. “Okay, I know what he’s bringing you when he picks you up. I’ve got the perfect idea!”

“Little bird!” Steve shouts the moment he walks in the door. You take a final look at yourself in the mirror before inhaling a deep breath. Starting to turn around when Steve’s reflection is behind you. “Dove,” his voice whispers as his eyes scan over your front and back. You almost have forgotten your given name in preference of his nickname.

“Wow,” stepping up behind you, his hands skim down your sides, before flowing over your stomach, and he pulls you into him. “What do you think of the dress?”

“It’s nice. But what do you think?”

“I think you look good enough to devour, but we should get to dinner.”

“Steve, I don’t have any shoes for this dress,” you turn around in his embrace, looking up at him through your lashes. There’s always little reminders of just how massive he is. The most broad shoulders you have ever seen. And those chiseled arms that are currently wrapping around you tightly, and make you feel secure. Not trapped.

“I know, darling. I brought you some shoes with me. And also,” you hate the loss of his arms and warmth around you, but he reaches in his back pocket to take out a jewelry box. “I know most women expect diamonds, and don’t worry, you’ll get your diamonds.”

Opening the box, you glance back up at him, and he gulps. Licking his lips slowly as he removes the piece of jewelry. You turn back around, letting him place the necklace around your neck, “Pearls represent purity. And one day I’ll have you dripping in diamonds.”

“The day I’m no longer pure?” You ask, looking at his eyes through the mirror as he finishes clasping the necklace. “The day you no longer want me?”

“Dovey, you’ll always be more pure than me. And the day I no longer want you is a day that doesn’t exist. If I die first, I will haunt you. You’ll always be mine.”

“And if I die first?” Steve takes a long inhale as his lips start running over the top of your back. Not even lifting fully off your skin as he presses his petal pink mouth over your supple skin, “What happens if I die first?”

“I’ll join you in the afterlife immediately after. I won’t live without you,” biting on your lip, Steve looks deep into your eyes in the mirror, “There is no me without you, Dovey. I will tear this world apart and burn it to ashes to save you. And that’s a promise. But for now, I think it’s time for dinner. C’mon. You need your shoes,” sliding his hand down to yours, he guides you into the living room where he picks up a new box.

Starting to reach towards the box, he beats you, and sinks down to his knees, “Give me your right foot. I’m here for balance, Dovey, use me,” you have to brace yourself as you hold your hand on him to keep yourself from falling. His calloused hands add each heel to your foot before he kisses up your leg.

The softest open mouth kisses, guiding his way up to the hemline of your dress, but it doesn’t stop his ascent. Kissing right over your front and then peppering kisses across your collarbone. Going further up to kiss your tattoo, “You wear my mark beautifully, Dovey. We really should go.”

You aren’t sure how long Steve is going to remain soft, or if he’s only trying to break you, so he can receive his ultimate prize, but it’s working. Every bit of it. You don’t even want to go to dinner, you want tonight to be the night. Because he’s worth it.

You take a bite of cheesecake off Steve’s fork. Smiling at him while you pull his hand under your dress, and higher up your thigh. Letting him feel just how heated your core was for him. Tonight was amazing. Not just romantic, but fun. He laughed. He kissed you in between courses.

His life is fascinating, and you love being a part of it. His pinky wiggles along your panties, and you bite of your lip, stopping a whimper from escaping. You lean your head over onto his shoulder as you let him feel just how ruined your panties are.

You mewl, and grab tighter to his arm. Enjoying this moment when a man clears his throat. “Looks like your getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar, Rogers.”

“Rumlow,” Steve grunts, leaning forward slightly in front of your body, and blocking you from this man. “Aren’t you usually in the slums of the city?”

“Funny, Rogers. So it is true?” Steve pulls himself out from under your dress, and grabs your hand, holding it tightly. Dinner was almost over, and now there is a man you had never met, and he is ruining the moment you were having. “You got you a little doll to dress up, huh?”

“Just some girl,” making a sign of irritation, Steve’s hand squeezes yours, and you shut up quickly. “I thought I told you not to come here.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not so nice of places to eat where you banished me to. The delicacies here are much nicer. Word on the street is there’s some nice rare and fresh pussy in your midst,” Rumlow chuckles when Steve’s hand drops yours, and he stands, twisting Rumlow around to have his face shoved up against the table.

He laughs as he looks up at you, “You’ll learn. He’ll just use you up like all his other whores,” Steve lifts his head up, and slams it back on the table. “Enough, Rogers!”

“Apologize to her!” He grunts, pounding his head again. “Apologize!”

“So she’s not some girl. You used to send your whores wherever you got the most money. Now look at you, holding one on a short leash, and all for your own. Going soft. Alright!” He shouts when Steve hits his head again. A dribble of blood starting to drip on the table.

A part of you wants to turn and leave and forget about this life. The other part is watching your man fight for your honor. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for ruining our fucking dinner, you fucking pig,” he slings his body over to another table and the patrons scream. His inked hand softens when he takes yours. “Let’s go home, Dovey.”

His voice is steady, but you hear the anger in it. Choosing to not make a comment this time. Knowing that he needs to work through his anger on the long drive to the cabin. Swallowing deeply as you try to hydrate your mouth. Tonight was perfect. And with one asshole it was ruined, and you hadn’t had a chance to initiate Natasha’s plan.

Driving quietly to the cabin, you watch Steve’s hands flex on the steering wheel, “Who was that?”

“A piece of shit.”

“I could tell,” Steve huffs, and drives a bit faster. “Who was it?”

“A former friend. He…he’s another dealer. Not quite as successful, and he sure likes to piss me off. This…I want you kept away from people like him. They think they know, and they have no idea. But — I should have known better. People can talk, but…”

“We don’t have to go on dates anymore,” grimacing, he turns to look at you. “Is it dangerous for me to be seen with you?”

“I put a fucking target on your neck.”

“I can finish school online. I don’t want to stay in the cabin alone and waiting on you, but I don’t have to be seen.”

“Why are you acting so calm about this?”

You shrug, turning your body to face him as your hand plants on his thigh, and rubs it soothingly. “Because I have to be the calm to your chaos.”

“You’re a fucking brat.”

“When I need to be,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a crooked grin as he pulls into the cabin. Starting to retreat, you had plans, and you would see them through. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable, Captain,” his eyes darken as you jump out of the car. You make sure to add some extra sway into your hips as you make your way into your new home.

Steve stays in the car for a moment as he thinks about how stupid and reckless he’s been. Rumlow had heard something. Didn’t matter if it was about you specifically. He heard something, and that was enough to irritate the fuck out of him.

He’d put a target right on your neck, one that told people who you belonged to. And most would leave you alone. There were a select few that were stupid enough to try something, and that clearly hadn’t been on the front of his mind.

He’d keep you hidden if he had to. He’d keep you right beside him. Whatever it took because you now belonged to him, and he would murder the world if it meant keeping you safe.

He sighs, knowing it was going to be another night of him aching. You were folding. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. But you had proven to be just as stubborn as he was, and it made him giddy. Of course he’d want to keep someone that challenged him. And looked damn adorable in doing so.

Walking into the cabin, he tosses his keys to the side when he sees you standing in the doorway with your little lingerie on. Turning around, he locks the door and sets the alarm, “I’m not really in the mood, Dovey.”

“I know you’re not, Captain. I just thought we could relax a moment before bed,” he turns around, the blue of his eyes barely visible as he looks you up and down. Stopping on your mark before he looks at your bare neck.

“I need to get you a place to store your jewelry. Did you place it on the dresser?” You shake your head no as he walks towards the couch. Stopping with your answer, and you ease closer to him. Kneeling on the floor in front of him as you pout up at his tall stature. He cups your chin, tilting your face up more, so he can see you better.

His thumb traces your lips, and you part your mouth. The appendage slips past your pillowy pout, and you respond, closing your mouth around him. Sucking on his large thumb, and wishing it was his cock in your mouth., “On the counter in the bathroom?”

You shake your head no again, and his lip turns up into a snarl. Hoping you are right in your thinking on what he needs to do. “What the fuck, Dove? Where is it?”

“I must have lost it,” he growls, removing his thumb and plopping down on the couch, and laying his head back on the cushions. His hands pulses with his anger. Natasha told you he had taken the time to pick out the piece of jewelry himself. “Are you mad, Captain?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed off. I got something for you to be nice, and you fucking lost it. It’s like you don’t even care. It’s…”

“You think I deserve a punishment?” His head picks up from the couch, and he glares at you. Trying to ignore your tits that are early popping out of your top. Or the way that the garter belt is digging into your soft skin. You were walking sin. A pure temptress that was nothing but a cocktease.

“I lost something that is precious to you. You’re angry, so why don’t you show me what happens to naughty girls?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Dovey,” the timbre of his voice is low and full of rasp as you tilt your head, and nod.

“I do. Don’t you remember what happened last time you punished me? The way my body responded to you? Don’t you want to try again?”

In one movement he has you laying across his lap, and his beefy hand smooths over your ass. Letting out a little whimper, you turn back to look up at him. “Did you really lose my gift I just gave you a few hours ago?”

“Yes, sir,” smack. “Mmm,” you moan, and Steve’s hand rubs over your stinging skin. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” slap on the other cheek. His eyes look more at your jiggling ass than your face.

“I am sorry, Captain. Ooh!” You mewl as he slaps each cheek back to back. “I’ve been such a bad,” smack, “Naughty,” smack, “little bird,” the hardest smack of all brings a line of tears to your eyes. “Captain, I didn’t mean it.”

“How is your ass feeling, Dovey?”

“It hurts.”

“How’s my pussy feeling, Dove?” You clear your throat, trying to lift yourself up for him to get a better view. “I can feel you throbbing on me. You sure are a little slut that needs to be devoured, huh? Shall I take a look at that pretty hole?” You shake your head no, biting at your lip. “I deserve to see the mess that I helped create. You’re burning a hole in my pants with how heated you are.”

His thick fingers start to pull down your lacey underwear, and he lets them stay on your thighs. With one hand on each cheek, he pulls you apart, and looks back up at your face, “Dovey, what are you trying to do?”

“Nothing, Captain.”

“What have we here?” You whimper as his hand reaches in between your thighs, giving the necklace a little tug. Wiggling around on his lap, you try not to make a peep as a few of the pearls pop out of your entrance.

“Who taught you about pearl play, hmm? I don’t like when things go in my pussy that aren’t me.”

“But it’s so small. Uhh,” you bite on your lip as he rubs a few of the pearls over your sensitive nub. “I didn’t…”

“It was Natasha, wasn’t it? She taught you how to be a naughty little slut. Are you ready to submit to me?”

“Do I have your heart?” Steve flattens the strand of pearls above your clit, and pushes and pulls it over your own pearl. “Do I, Steve?”

“Is my loyalty not enough?”

“Is that all I’m worth?”

“You’re more than the world could ever offer.”

“Then say…mmm…say it!” Your voice cracks as pleasure courses through your veins. “I need you to say that I own your heart!”

“You own me,” he pulls a few of the pearls out of your twat, and stars interrupt your vision. “You own my whole being. My loyalty. My protection. My everything.”

You grab onto his legs tightly, gritting your teeth as your orgasm builds up. Nearly taking your breath away, but you weren’t going to give it to him. “I want your heart!” Steve pulls the necklace fully out of you, and starts slapping your swollen pussy lips with his flattened hand. “I need your heart, Steve!”

He doesn’t stop. Just continues to slap over the sensitive skin as your juices pool out of you. “Steve, give me your heart! Ahh! Please, that's all I want!” Turning your head to look at him, he gives you a regretful look, “Please!” You sigh as his hand flattens over your core. “Will you not give it to me?”

He shakes his head, letting his hands drop to his sides. Giving a little growl, you remove your belly from his lap. Standing up to remove your panties completely before turning to straddle him. Grabbing up his hand you place it over your chest. “It’s yours. All of it, and all of me is yours. Why can’t you do the same for me? Steve, you own me. I own you, so give me what I want! Please.”

“I have no heart to give you,” he whispers, pulling you to him by your chin. “I lost it a long time ago, but if I had one, it would be yours.”

“You just don’t want to tell me you love me.”

“You haven’t even told me,” he smirks, dropping his hands to your thighs, they run to your hips, and he starts grinding you over his lap. His cock presses into his slacks, and right onto your bare center. It’s a fear you’ve had. As amazing as he feels, you worry this is all he can give you. “Tell me.”

“You first,” Steve clears his throat, as he moves you faster over him. Moving his head closer to your chest before biting on your top, and pulling it down enough to free your tits. Giving your nipple a bite, he rolls the hardened bud in between his teeth. “We’re at a stand still. Will you love our children?”

“I’ll protect them and care for them.”

“That’s all you’re going to give us?”

“Honey, are you daydreaming about our family?”

“Don’t tease,” you give his arm a little swat before you force him to look at you. His hands not having to make you move anymore as your hips naturally search for that pleasuring friction. “I love you, Steven Rogers. And you can have me when I mark you. All of me. I want every woman to be envious that you’re owned. Every man to know that you come home to me every night. I want our children to look at their father and believe that he loves their mother enough to have her seared on his skin.”

“Done,” he moans, and you reach behind you, removing your bra. Letting yourself be almost completely bare and vulnerable for him. Leaning forward, you give him a hard bite on his neck. Right where you were going to mark him, and he grits his teeth. You don’t let up. You listen as his breathing picks up. Can feel bruises forming on your hips with the way he is digging into your skin.

His cock is throbbing, needing so much more than this not so dry humping. His pants are ruined, and his neck is getting implanted with your teeth marks. But you don’t stop. You bite down a bit harder, until he’s screaming in pleasure and pain, and his spunk heats up your core. You pull off his neck. Sitting straight up, and shimmy your shoulders.

“Is that it then? Searing my skin?”

“I want my lips to burn your neck. I need to see my brand charred on you.”

“As you wish, Dovey. I’ll have Natasha get your lips copied, and a branding tool will be created. You can burn my whole body if it means I get you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“And one day, I’ll have your heart, Steve,” you pull off him, and reach your hand down to him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“As you wish.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @lyndys @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @honeyhoneylovelylove 

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter eight || understanding

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 8.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“I think if they keep ordering him to kill the people he cares about, he’s gonna snap.”

“Domain Expansion. Infinite Void.”

Gojo’s voice is eerily devoid of its usual nonchalance, even devoid of the warmth you’ve come to know from him. The words carry a weight familiar to any sorcerer. His grip on your shoulder tightens and although you know you’re safe from his sure-hit domain, the realization brings no comfort.

His chest is rising and falling as quickly as his heart is pounding in his chest as his warm breath fans the top of your head. His breathing grows quicker, deeper, and you feel his lips brush the top of your head, before he’s gone from your side entirely.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to register exactly what happens. You hear a gasp, a cry, a growl. Each one followed by the slumping sound of a body hitting the floor. With wide eyes, you turn to face the sorcerer when the sixth sound rings in the air of the still room.

Standing only a couple of feet away is Satoru, but there’s no warmth, no cunning smirk, not even a cold and calculated glare across his features. He’s panting heavily through his parted lips, blood spattered across his face. The crimson liquid drips from stained white locks, coming to land on his shoes beneath him.

Before you have a chance to take a look around at the damage, the lives fading from the room, Gojo lifts his head, an eerily unfamiliar look in those blue eyes of his. He doesn’t look like himself, wide eyes filled with a seething anger like fire raging through a forest. Like nothing can quell the flames that had ignited.

Still, he teleports to your side, wrapping an arm around you as he guides you out of the room. He makes a point of using his body to block you from the sight of the room, guiding you away from the carnage as he closes the door behind him.

Now out of the room, you turn to observe him. You aren’t sure if the move he made was the right or wrong one. You don’t have enough information to truly judge the higher-ups, although you disagreed with their methods. But still, they were people. People who sentenced you to death without ever considering giving you a chance. The moment the sentence was given, you knew your fate had been decided for you the moment you had entered the room. 

As you realize that, you know Gojo knew that too. That’s why he had insisted on remaining in the room, this was the plan he had always had in mind all along. Whether he knew he would snap or not, he always knew this would be the outcome.

Whether it was the right call or not, you weren’t sure.

You just knew that the lack of mercy he’d displayed towards them scared you.

But looking up at those crystalline blue eyes now, glinting with an anger you’d never before witnessed in him or anyone, you recognize something.

The way the pads of his fingers grip your shoulder like he was holding onto you for dear life, the way he positions his body to prevent you from seeing the carnage behind him, the way the anger behind his eyes glints with something else, something more. He’s scared, too.

“Gojo?”

Chest still heaving, his furious eyes flicker to you, but they seem to look through you, like he isn’t all there.

“Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t answer. It’s a foolish question, but it’s all you can think to say. You inhale sharply, turning to face him as you pull out of his grasp. Examining his expression, you tug your lip between your teeth.

Thoughts race through your mind as you try to think of something, anything, that might help, but you don’t know the man standing before you. Despite being at the school for several months now, he never let you get to know him. You never bothered. You were both always at odds with one another.

“Gojo, I-” you hesitate when he reaches out to grip your forearm. “They’re…” Dead. You don’t dare voice your concerns. “What if that was the wrong move, what if-”

“There was no other option,” he practically snarls, pulling you closer still to him as you flinch. His anger isn’t directed at you, rather he seems to be protecting you, even from himself.

Staring down at his hand on your arm, you realize he’s shaking. The vicious fury blazing within him is enough to strike fear into anyone who would witness him, but as he grips your arm for dear life, you know your fear pales in comparison to what he was going through.

Fiddling uncomfortably with the hem of your shirt with your spare hand, you recall the one thing Gojo had thought to do when you needed comfort and he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he’d done it because he needed it too.

Closing the small distance between you, you wrap your arms around his tall form, his pounding heart beating hard in your ear. His heart rate seems to increase for a moment as he stiffens, before slowly wrapping his arms around your core. Gradually, his breathing slows and returns to normal, his chin dropping to rest on your head.

Woodsy and sweet scents mingle with the stark smell of iron stained into his clothes as you inhale shakily. You don’t dare move, working through your own emotions as you let him do the same.

You couldn’t deny that you were scared, but as he finally pulls back and those familiar blue eyes are no longer looking through you but at you, you knew he needed someone in that moment as much as you had needed someone moments ago on death’s door.

In a strange twist of fate, it seemed you needed one another. Your fates entwined.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly, terror ripping through the flames of anger. “It was the only option- I- I- I’ve thought of everything, I-” He heaves a breath in, running a hand through his hair and pulling at it as he leans his head back in thought. “I just-” his voice is low, a burly growl. “I can’t let them keep sentencing people to death every time they’re scared-”

Lips pressed into a thin line, you watch his frantic movements as he continues to ramble.

“-as soon as something inconveniences them-”

“Gojo.”

“-make it my problem to do their dirty work-”

“Gojo,” you try again to get his attention, uncertainly reaching up to set a hand on his arm as it falls back to his side after he flings it into the air while rambling. He doesn’t seem to notice your touch as he flails his arm in the air again.

“-I’m nothing more than a- a-”

“Satoru!” You call his name again, firmly placing your hand on his chest to get his attention. He seems shocked, blinking down at you. “It’s okay.”

He purses his lips at the sympathetic smile you offer as you realize what’s going through his head. Yuta had been right all along. He did care. He wasn’t afraid of the repercussions of his actions against the higher-ups, there was something else he was afraid of, and though you weren’t sure you believed it yourself, it was undeniable.

“We’ll figure things out, okay?” You wait for his nod before continuing. “Let’s get out of here,” you move your hand from his chest to tug on his sleeve and urge him to follow you. The walls of the narrow hallway feel as though they’re about to cave in on you and you can’t bear to stand so close to the room now barren of life.

He stays a short distance behind you, letting you lead the way down winding halls out to Ijichi, waiting outside the car. Ijichi turns to face the two of you, eyes wide as he sees the crimson stains in Gojo’s hair.

“Jujutsu Tech, please, Ijichi,” you tell him with a smile. He nods solemnly as he gets in the car.

The ride back is silent save for the sounds of the road and the consistent chirping of the summer cicadas. Your gaze remains out the window for the duration of the trip, thoughts racing through your mind.

Despite the silence, it’s strangely comfortable beside Satoru, and you realize for the first time since your first meeting, you know where you both stand with one another.

He seems to be on edge sitting beside you, leg bouncing while his hands fiddle with anything in reach in an attempt to ease his overactive thoughts.

As Ijichi pulls into the school, you slide out of the car and the silence follows you to the cabin, broken only by the excited barks of Taro at your return. He comes up to you both, body wagging from side to side with his tail at the sight of not just you, but also Gojo.

He cracks an uncertain smile at the pup before grumbling something about taking a shower and disappearing into the washroom before you have a chance to talk to him. You want to reach out and talk to him, but he’d practically bolted out of reach.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you bring your hands up to rub your face, the emotions you’d been holding back for the sake of staying strong pouring out. Making your way to the guest room, you shed yourself of the day’s clothes, throwing on an oversized T-shirt and shorts, throwing your hair up into a bun and collapsing on the bed.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at the ceiling when the washroom door across the hall clicks and Gojo exits, pulling a white T-shirt over his head. Gray sweats hang low on his lips, his toned abs visible for a brief moment as Gojo pulls the shirt on. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he rakes a hand through his snowy locks and throws on his sunglasses, looking out at the living room and kitchen.

Realizing you aren’t there, the dove-haired man swivels to face your room. Too tall to fit through the doorway, he ducks as he pokes his head into the room. His eyes bore into you from behind his glasses, a more put-together expression on his face than earlier.

“Hey, uh-”

“Thanks for not killing me,” you blurt out, accidentally interrupting him.

He chuckles dryly, shooting you a half-hearted smirk. “You didn’t think I would, did you?”

“Do you want the answer to that?”

His brow raises, though he catches the teasing lilt to your voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, slowly making his way to the edge of the bed to sit a small distance from you. The bed dips under his weight and he pushes his hand through his hair once more to keep it out of his face.

You let out a shaky laugh. “When?”

He catches your meaning and purses his lips. “When you thought I was gonna kill you,” he pauses, “and when I-” killed them. It doesn’t need to be said. He eyes your reaction, chewing on his lip. “I didn’t have a choice.”

You always have a choice, you want to insist, but you stay quiet. Of course it scares you that he was so willing to kill, but you also had him to thank for still being alive.

As if he can read your mind, he continues. “I know that’s a bullshit excuse, but someone wasn’t leaving that room and I-” he clears his throat to prevent himself from choking on his words. “I’ll be damned if it was you.”

You blink in surprise at the honest admission, whether fueled by genuine care or guilt.

“‘Sides, Miriko’d have my head if they got you.” He shoots you a lopsided smile.

“Your head would be the least of your concerns, Six Eyes,” Miriko chimes in from the back of your hand before disappearing.

Gojo huffs, entertained.

“It’s… okay.” You struggle to find words, still a bit scared at the other side of him you’d seen.

“There would never be an end,” he begins, “to the killing, if I didn’t end it myself.” You aren’t sure if he’s trying to convince him or you. “Yuta, Itadori, you…” he sighs.

“I understand,” you whisper, knowing the unsaid name of Geto hung on the tip of his tongue.

Gojo’s eyes close for a moment as he lets out a breath, relieved to find you hadn’t run off.

“What’s gonna happen now, with the higher-ups gone?” You ask quietly, looking up at his tired blue eyes.

“Dunno,” he admits. “The Shibuya incident left us pretty dry of sorcerers. The old asshole in charge of Kyoto will probably take over.”

“Is that… good?” You tilt your head.

“Not sure,” he sighs in exasperation. “Zen’in, Kamo, the old man,” he lists, “at the end of the day they’re the lesser evil, I guess.”

“Will you be in trouble?” You ask, gasping with realization. “Will they send someone after you?”

“They mighta been foolish enough to go after you, but they aren’t foolish enough to go after me.” There’s a small smirk on his lips.

“Awh, does that mean you think I’m strong?” You tease, kicking your feet playfully.

Something shines in Satoru’s eyes as he watches your movements, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at you. The moment lasts a second too long and you hum, wondering what’s going through his mind. He coughs, mumbling a ‘sorry’ before responding.

To your surprise, he responds in earnest with a chuckle. “You kidding? You’re terrifying when you wanna be.” He leans back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t see your wide-eyed shock from where he lays.

You let the moment hang, your brow knit together in thought.

“Why choose me?”

“Hm?” He props himself up on an elbow. “You or the old hags that told me to kill my students? We went over this.”

“No I know that, but-” you hesitate, the strange feeling of his lips brushing the top of your head replaying in your mind over and over. Maybe it was nothing, but the rational part of you can’t let it go. “You protected me.”

He blanches, eyes flickering to the side. “I was just doing what felt right.”

Your heart sits in the pit of your stomach, nerves chilling your spine. What felt right? That answers less questions than it poses. Your lips part, only to watch Satoru spring to his feet, practically dashing to the door.

“Lessons start back up tomorrow. We need a plan to defeat Sukuna,” he abruptly shuts the door, leaving you further confused than you were before as thoughts race through your mind.

Watching in silence as he closes your door behind him, you furrow your brow. Why did it seem as though he kept running from you?

You swallow hard, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The only question racing through your mind parts your lips as you whisper to yourself.

“What the hell?”

–

Another sleepless night, another early coffee.

Moonlight pours through the living room window, illuminating the tabletop where your phone sits. The exhaustion deep within your bones is undeniable, yet sleep doesn’t seem to come. Even sitting with legs pulled to your chest on the couch and your dog at your feet, the world feels so daunting.

The feeling of facing the world alone had returned when Nanami left, and slowly but surely you had felt as though you were getting somewhere with those emotions, but now you weren’t so sure. Gojo’s words from earlier hung in the air around you like a fly, unable to shake the feeling he meant something deeper. Not to mention the fact that Gojo, one of the most confident and cocky people you knew, had seemed to lose his edge twice now in one day, running from you.

Worse yet, was the undeniable realization that you felt no fear towards him. In spite of his actions earlier and the fact that death was something that seemed to plague and suffocate you, you felt oddly safe around him. Albeit a bit confused.

It was all too much. The questions, the uncertainty, the anxiety following the meeting with the higher-ups. It all loomed over you like a monster threatening your sanity.

Your head snaps to the stairs as Gojo makes his way down to the kitchen, his hair disheveled as though he’d spent the entire night raking his hand through it. His top half is barren, toned chest and abdomen on display and to your surprise, your eyes trail down his built figure. His usual blindfold covers his eyes and you wonder if he can see at all in the darkness, neither of you bothering to flick on a light.

Your question is answered quickly as he notices there’s coffee made and tilts his head, jumping when he notices you in the living room.

“Shit! I didn’t realize you were awake.” He holds a hand up to his chest in shock.

“Isn’t the whole deal with your Six Eyes thing that you can see everything?”

He chuckles, looping a finger under the material and pulling it down. “That’s the point of the blindfold. Can’t use all my cursed energy just lookin’ at you- around. Lookin’ around.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t hear you make coffee.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him, giggling as he wrinkles his nose at the bitter and very cold coffee he’s just sipped.

“The hell are you drinking this for?” He asks, dumping the mug and then the pot of coffee down the sink before beginning a new brew.

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” you shrug, fiddling with the mug of cold coffee in your hand.

Noticing your movements, Satoru strides over to you and pulls your mug from your hands. With a click of his tongue, he’s dumping that down the sink too.

“Hey! I was drinking that,” you complain, though he does have a point.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he scolds, smiling happily when Taro hops down from the couch with a wagging tail, demanding pets with small whines. Gojo kneels down, scratching behind his ears.

“That’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” you gape.

“What can I say? I’m charming,” the sorcerer grins, chuckling as he catches you rolling your eyes. He mumbles some happy words to Taro in a sweet voice, pleased when the pup plants himself down and waits with him as the coffee brews.

“Your charm won’t work on me,” you tease.

“No?” He smirks, and you suddenly feel fluttering in your chest. Swallowing, you watch the way his muscles clench as he pours you a mug of coffee, careful to step around Taro who follows closely behind him.

Setting his own mug on the coffee table, he leans forward to hand you another warm mug, his fingers lingering on yours and setting your skin ablaze as he pulls his hand back and plops himself down on the couch beside you with a sigh.

Composing yourself, you take a sip. “This is better,” you admit with a grateful smile.

Gojo hums, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “There’s so much going on, I-” you let out an unsteady breath at the gravity of your stress. “-I’m so tired, Satoru. When I close my eyes though, it’s just… a mess.”

He frowns, tilting his head as though he was eyeing you. “We could do something to get your mind off things,” he suggests, sipping his coffee. “We could watch a movie.”

You debate his suggestion before nodding slowly in agreement. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“There’re a bunch under the TV if you wanna take a look.”

You hop off the couch with more pep in your step than before, hoping a movie will soothe the endless stream of thoughts. Opening the cabinet, you’re surprised to find Gojo seems to have a massive movie collection ranging in genre from Romantic Comedy to Horror.

“Are you a big movie guy?” You ponder, moving your finger over the spines of a group of horror films.

“They’re fun,” he grins. You shoot him a smile, giggling to yourself as your finger slides over the spine of Digimon: The Movie.

“I didn’t take you for a Digimon guy,” you comment, the familiar case a sudden blast from the past as you remember watching it with your dad when it first came out. Sliding your finger over the case as you reminisce silently, you don’t notice Gojo opening his wallet and flicking a card at you.

Squeaking in surprise as it makes contact with you, you look down at the card that sits on the floor. It’s an old digimon card, frayed corners laminated to keep it from getting any further damaged. Picking up the card, you flip it over, eyes lighting up at the sight. In the classic art style, Metal Greymon is hunched over, mouth parted with claws facing the player.

“This was in your wallet? You’re a nerd!” You tease with a grin, giggling as Satoru shrugs. “I’d be more impressed if it was Gabumon, though. He’s the best.”

“I’m more of a Guilmon guy myself,” he says, sitting up and leaning forward, “but Gabumon’s a good choice.” His blue eyes examine the movie in your hands from where he sits across the coffee table. “You’re into Digimon?” He doesn’t attempt to mask the child-like giddiness at talking about something so simple and mundane with you.

“My dad and I used to watch it all the time. I loved that old Gamecube fighting game.”

“That’s it,” he stands up, slipping the movie case from your hands and popping the disc into the DVD player sitting below the TV. “We’re watching this.”

You hand back his card with a giggle, the both of you sitting down side by side on the couch as Taro settles at the end of the couch beside you. As the opening ads play, Gojo tilts his head at you.

“Did you play a lot of games growing up?”

“Yeah I guess so,” you shrug, “honestly I still play a fair bit.”

“No kidding?”

You nod, thinking back at the consoles sitting at your old cottage. It must look abandoned at this point, coated in a layer of dust. “Yeah I mean… I was always alone, it was nice to unwind with a game.”

“You shoulda told me, I’ve got a Switch upstairs. I could kick your ass at Mario Kart,” he teases with a grin as he points at his chest. He sets his arm down across the back of the couch, his bicep brushing your shoulder in a manner that sends heat rippling across your skin.

“I’d like to see you try,” you rebuttal playfully.

“I’m the reigning champ, Shoko and Sug-” he blanches, quickly clearing his throat and correcting himself. “Shoko and I used to play all the time.”

There’s a sad edge to his voice, and finally the time feels right to ask the question that’s sat at the tip of your tongue since Yuta brought it up. “Suguru?” You ask softly.

He stiffens, forlorn gaze trailing away from you. “Yeah,” he admits, swallowing. You allow him a moment to steady himself, gather his thoughts.

“You two were close, weren’t you?”

“Something like that,” he sighs bittersweetly. He shuffles uncomfortably, the subject still clearly sore. It’s a feeling you know all too well, one you fear not even death will do you part.

You clear your throat, pleased to have made some sort of real connection with your white-haired counterpart, but not wanting to push him. “I’m sorry, when you showed up at my gate with him, I didn’t-”

“You don’t owe me anything, y/n.”

You hesitate at the firmness in his words, surprised to hear such a tone from him. “No, I know but I was-”

“y/n,” he interrupts again, “you don’t owe me anything. Definitely not an apology.” He rolls his shoulder, his forearm brushing your neck in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You did me a huge favor.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” It’s all you can think to say.

He chuckles again. “Stop apologizing,” he insists, attempting to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“We don’t need to do this,” you insist, shaking your head. This little game of apologies wasn’t necessary in your eyes. Although there were still clearly things left unspoken between you both, you had no doubt in your mind anymore that Satoru was on your side and you were well aware of his regrets.

“No, we do.” His sharp eyes are boring into you now and he takes a deep breath. “I was a fucking grade A asshole. I was so sure Miriko would be like Sukuna that I never gave you a chance,” he pauses, “sorry Miriko.” He bites his lip briefly before continuing. “Then these past few weeks I got to know you and I-”

You lean closer to him, listening intently.

“-I was scared of you,” he chuckles, cheeks visibly reddening. “You reminded me of Suguru. Your wit,” he glances at the Digimon movie title screen that’s been looping for a couple of minutes now, “your interests, your abilities.”

You can feel his warm breath on your cheeks as he finally faces you fully. You hadn’t realized he was so close to you until now, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end at the close proximity.

Running a hand through his long white hair, he moves strands from his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your lips part in disbelief, not only at receiving such a genuine apology, but more importantly because of the weight of the statement. The weight of the comparison to someone who meant the world to him.

“I-” you stammer, trying to make sense of his admission. “I forgive you,” you tell him, your voice small. You bite your lip, your body set alight once more as you see the way his eyes flicker to follow the movement. Did you imagine that…?

The silence following feels like a moment and an eternity all at once. Your skin blazes, while your muscles are frozen in place, unable to think as you feel the warmth of his breath repeatedly fanning your face. You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as your crimson irises take in the way his lidded eyes look at you, pupils blown.

“S-Satoru?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He clears his throat, leaning back against the couch.

“Sorry,” his cheeks redden as he fumbles for the remote. “Gabumon is waiting for you,” he recovers quickly, his sly smirk returning as if your entire body wasn’t on fire from the interaction just seconds ago.

Blinking a few times, you sit back and try to focus on the movie, your thoughts racing. Taro’s head plops down on your lap and you busy yourself with petting his head, your mind eventually focusing when Gojo playfully nudges you at the sight of Gabumon.

No longer drowning in thoughts, your eyes begin to grow heavy and at some point, your consciousness fades.

–

The unpleasant feeling of a kink in your neck wakes you the following morning. You groan at the feeling, groggily blinking your eyes open. With your vision still blurred, a woodsy scent hits you and you wonder if you left the window open. No, even then it’s not so much a natural scent.

You attempt to roll onto your back, surprised when something pushes back against you.

“Careful, you’ll fall off.”

You freeze, bringing a hand up to wipe the remnants of sleep from your face. As your vision clears, you become very suddenly aware of how you’re sprawled over your roommate’s bare chest, your face barely an inch from his chin.

Jumping immediately to your feet and out of his grasp, you stare at him in bewilderment. His sunglasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, a calm expression staring back at you from where he lays on the couch. For a moment you think you see hurt flash in his eyes, but you’re positive you’re mistaking something else for that.

“Sorry!” You hurriedly apologize, face flushed at the idea of falling asleep on top of Satoru. You glance back at the screen quietly playing the looping menu screen of the Digimon movie, still.

“I wasn’t complaining, Pretty,” he smirks slyly. “You seemed tired.”

Your muscles seize at the sound of the pet name, your heart palpitating in your chest hard enough to make you think you were having a heart attack. A pet name from Satoru of all people. Worse yet, your stomach bubbles and flutters in ways you can’t begin to describe, because surely he wasn’t causing that feeling. Right?

You swallow hard, your nerves getting the better of you as you take a step back, nearly tripping over the coffee table.

Gojo watches with an amused smile as you stumble around, muttering the occasional ‘um’ or ‘uh’, before your words finally find you.

“I should- um- get ready for the lesson,” you blurt out, turning on your heel and bolting to the washroom, ignoring Gojo’s snickering behind you. Shutting the door as you bolt to the washroom, you heave out a quiet groan, rubbing your face in humiliation.

That was embarrassing to watch, even for me.

Don’t say another word, Miriko.

Of course your audience would decide to chime in right now. Throwing your head back against the door, you let out a prolonged sigh and race to get into the shower, praying the warm water would quell the embarrassment seeping through every crack in your composure.

As the hot water wets your skin, you let out a breath of relief as the steady stream drowns your thoughts. Thank god for that, too, because any longer with thoughts of Gojo shirtless and you might start to lose it. 

As the steam fills the air, you close your eyes, allowing the hot water to cascade over your body and ease your tensions. Your eyes flutter open, droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you let your shoulders relax and take a much-needed long shower.

Throwing the tap off after allowing yourself longer in the shower than usual to cleanse yourself of your confused and uncertain thoughts, you reach out for the towel and-

It’s not there.

You reach a bit further down the rack where your towel should be. It has to be.

It’s not there.

You panic, realizing suddenly that you had done laundry and hadn’t replaced the towel.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, weighing your options. You either had to call for Gojo, or wait until you air dried, which isn’t really an option because the air on your warmed skin is cold.

You groan loudly, raking a hand through your dripping hair.

“Satoru?” You call his name loudly, unsure if he hears you and you call out his name again.

“Need some help in there?” He asks with a suggestive tone that only furthers the blush creeping up your neck.

“Gojo, please,” you beg quietly. “Just put a towel outside the door.”

You hear an amused hum before his footsteps begin to move away from the door, returning a moment later. “Towel’s outside!” He calls before you hear his footsteps walking away.

You let out a breath of relief, poking your arm out the door to grab the towel and dry yourself off. Putting on your clothes from last night again, you hurriedly make your way back into your room, take the time to groan into a pillow, and change into a clean dress. It’s the first time you’ve worn one in a while, given that you’d struggled with your motivation for the past month. For once, you find yourself smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Once you’ve put your hair up and done your makeup, you make your way back out to the kitchen with just enough time to make a coffee before your lesson.

“What, no cold coffee this morning?”

The abrupt intrusion of Satoru’s voice in the quiet air of the cabin causes you to jump and you send him an irritated glance as you nearly drop your mug. He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hops down the stairs and slings an arm casually over your shoulder. The material of his blindfold blocks you from seeing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Flustered this morning, are we?”

Though you’d always known Gojo to have no concept of personal space, this was something new entirely, even for him. You swallow hard, refusing to look at him as your steady gaze remains on the slow drip of the coffee pot in front of you.

“I’m just tired,” you insist stubbornly, stepping out of his grip.

“Mhmm,” he hums in agreement, his tone betraying the fact that he doesn’t believe you. “You seemed pretty well-rested this morning.”

With his endless prodding now beginning to give you a headache, you rub your temples. “Satoru, we should focus on work,” you insist in an attempt to get him to ease off.

He chuckles, taking the hint to give you a break as he busies himself with other tasks.

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you prepare one for yourself before absent-mindedly preparing one for him as well, just the way he likes it with a bit of creamer and an absurd amount of sugar. You’re not sure when you learned his coffee order, but it feels like second nature as you pass him the mug.

He smiles gratefully, accepting the mug from your hands and taking a sip. His brow raises, eyeing you with surprise from behind black fabric at the way his coffee is made to perfection. Almost like the action of making his coffee was deeply ingrained into you, you hadn’t thought twice about the amount of sugar needed to make his coffee just to his taste. “Thanks,” he hums, leaning on the counter.

You smile up at him, taking a sip of your much more bitter coffee and letting your thoughts wander to the lesson today. The first one in a month. The thought is an uneasy one, life is considerably different since then and in many ways it feels more urgent than ever to train Yuji as quickly as possible if you were at such a great risk of being attacked again.

“Do you know who it was that attacked us?” You ask Gojo, swallowing at the horribly vivid memories resurfacing.

“Yeah,” he sighs, his shoulders hunching forward as he adjusts his grip on his mug. The pale blue button-up he wears wrinkles at his shoulders, pulling taut on his back. Your eyes trail over the muscles briefly, returning your attention to him as he continues. “I’ll worry about that, though.”

“Don’t you think it would be good for me to know?”

“Focus on Yuji’s training. I’ll handle him.” His nose scrunches as he sees the way you narrow your eyes, obviously growing frustrated with him, but still he doesn’t let up.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.” There��s a hint of irritation in your voice, mingling with hurt.

His face is fixed straight ahead, avoiding your gaze, avoiding the obvious hurt on your features. “Just let me handle this, Pretty.”

Your heart jumps into your throat at the pet name, only given away by your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. “We talked about this Satoru, please don’t be stubborn.” You manage to keep your frustration and nerves in check as your tone comes out even.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, feigning indifference to your words but you know him now. You can read him. You know he’s growing upset.

“With all due respect Gojo, you’re in no position to be keeping this information from us,” Miriko chimes in, red shining eyes apparent on the back of your hand, a forked tongue slithering out from between her pointed teeth.

“Have I been upgraded from Six Eyes?” He teases, blatantly ignoring the way irritation flashes across your face.

Miriko’s eye narrows. “Don’t test me,” she warns in a hiss.

He hums slyly in acknowledgement, not pushing his limits but visibly pleased.

“Why are you so determined to keep this from me?” You ask as he takes another sip of his coffee.

His jaw clenches and you know you’re both one step away from being at one another’s throats. As usual. “It’s not your-”

“For fuck’s sake Gojo, can you cut that out?” Your exasperation finally grows to a breaking point as you motion in the air in disbelief that yet again he was being uncooperative. As if every moment of progress you thought you were making was for naught. “You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t get to know!

His head snaps towards you, mug set down with a heavy snap on the marble counter. “I’m not-” He takes a step towards you, pausing as he watches your frustration further bloom as he growls back. “It’s not like that.” He strains to keep his voice down, running a hand through his hair before pulling his blindfold down. His blue eyes are troubled when they finally land on you.

Your lips part. “Then what is it?”

“I’m trying not to be the asshole you think I am,” he sighs, taking another step towards you. His voice loses its edge as he gives in.

Setting your coffee down, you press yourself to the counter. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I don’t think… you’re an asshole.” You admit, shoulders dropping as the tension begins to ease now that he’s being honest with you. Red eyes meet his blue ones, his internal debate clear as day in the troubled glimmer in his eyes.

“I’m trying not to… extort you anymore. I’m trying-” he hesitates. “-I’m trying not to involve you in this world that I know you don’t want to be a part of.”

You blink once, twice, three times. It’s strange to hear such consideration from the cocky and overconfident sorcerer you’d come to know. Your lips form a circle, a silent ‘oh’.

“I don’t want-” he hesitates again, stepping forward. He’s painfully close, a realization that sends a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. “I don’t want to involve you anymore if I don’t have to, not when I…”

You tilt your head as he trails off, wondering what’s going through his mind. For someone who had been so one note when you met him, he’s one of the most complex people you’ve ever met and the one person you struggle to understand the most. You find yourself leaning forward slightly, his breath fanning your face faster as his breathing rate increases.

“Not when… I…” He trails off again, toned arms resting against the counter on either side of you as he cages you in. His eyes flicker to your lips, pupils dilating. His voice lowers, husky. “When I could treat you like this.”

Whatever internal battle was being fought in his head finds its victor as he leans in and presses his lips to yours, chaste and gentle. Your heart pounds in your chest as you freeze, tense in his arms encircling you.

When he pulls back, there’s desperation painting his features as he examines you. Shocked, you meet his wide-eyed stare pensively. Your thoughts are racing, searching for answers. He doesn’t dare move until you do.

You don’t know how to make sense of the confusion, but the butterflies in your stomach threatening to burst make more sense to you than any rational thought.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, sliding up his pecs as you lean back in. His pulse sprints in tandem with yours beneath your arm, eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet again. He moves his lips against yours fiercely, no longer gentle. He’s desperate, sliding his left hand up from the counter to your waist, his fingers clutching at your skin in a manner that you know will bruise.

His right hand encircles you, pulling you flush against his toned body as he parts by barely an inch from you, just far enough to see your flushed features, the way your chest rises and falls.

He smirks against your lips, his voice a whisper meant for your ears only like a sacred lament. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

Your ears burn as you stare up at him through your lashes. Your body is alight with the flames of attraction, your confusion a distant thought as the haze in your mind sings only of your want. How could something like this with someone like Gojo feel so right?

“I don’t want you involved in any of this anymore. Not because I don’t trust you-” he pauses, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He hums in satisfaction as your eyes trail the action. “-but because I want to do better by you.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Satoru.” Your voice is small, but steady as you admonish him. A newfound confidence courses through your veins as you fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” he says, soft lips pressing against yours with urgency, as though he couldn’t possibly bear to be apart from you even for the length of your conversation. His muscular arms tense against your back as his grip on you tightens.

You barely pull back from him, bunching his shirt beneath your fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m a part of this now.”

“I know,” he sighs again, defeat dripping from his tone. He’s not happy, but he’s willing to respect your decision, and that’s all you can ask for. For once, he’s compromising.

Running his thumb absentmindedly over your abdomen from its place on your waist, he watches the way you chew on your bottom lip, as though either of you is waiting for the other one to make a move.

“Should we…?” You make a movement to take a step back in an attempt to head to your lesson but he shakes his head.

“Just give me one more minute of this,” he whispers, sliding his hand up your body to cup your face. He’s gentle now, as though handling porcelain, as he leans in again. His long white hair tickles your forehead and you smile into the kiss, a reaction matched eagerly by Satoru. His lips are addictive and you find yourself melting into him.

Whether it’s something you’ll learn to regret, you don’t know. This new side of Satoru is fascinating, and as your arms slide over his shoulders and your fingers slide through his undercut, soft strands of white hair tangling in your grip, you want to keep exploring it. You want to keep exploring him. Tugging on the snowy locks, a low wanton groan escapes him, igniting a fire in your lower abdomen.

It scares you. It excites you. 

He pulls back, pupils blown as he chuckles. His voice is an octave deeper than you’re used to. “If we don’t leave now, you’re not getting me out of this cabin,” he warns with a coy smirk.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you nod slowly, untangling your fingers from his hair and falling back onto the ball of your foot. His arm doesn’t leave your waist as though he can’t bear to not feel your touch as he leads the way out the door and towards the meadow tucked within the trees.

He moves his blindfold back over his eyes and slides his hand up your body as the treeline comes into view, resting it on your shoulder in a more characteristic manner.

“y/n!” Yuji calls your name excitedly at the sight of you on your own two feet with no support. You hadn’t seen him since you’d fully recovered so as he bounds over to give you a hug, you smile. 

Gojo’s hand parts from your shoulder, watching from beside you with a warm smile. Yuji bounds back over to the table, excitedly telling you about movies he’d watched with his brother, and things he’d gotten up to with the second-years in the way you would tell a parent. It’s endearing and you wear that fact like a badge of honor.

It’s apparent he misses Fushiguro, but you know if you have any chance at defeating Sukuna and saving Yuji, it’s best that they stay apart.

As you settle down at the table to begin your lesson, Gojo finds his place at your side, his knee brushing yours lightly.

Your plan for the lesson had originally been to work with Yuji to draw out Sukuna’s technique as you’d barely scratched the surface of that lesson when you’d been hospitalized, but Miriko is quick to speak up before you have the chance to begin.

“I have a proposal.” Her toothy frown sits on the back of your hand as usual, eye flickering between the three of you.

“You wanna marry me, Miriko? How cute,” Gojo teases with a grin.

“You test my patience, Six Eyes.”

“Downgraded already…” he mutters, pouting as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

You giggle, letting Miriko continue.

“Yuji, please block Sukuna out to the best of your ability,” she pauses as he nods, “I believe I may have a way to kill the King of Curses.”

All of you sit starkly straight, every ounce of attention trained on Miriko now.

“Gojo, when you used your domain with y/n and I, I was unable to move.”

“You used your domain on them?” Yuji inquires, but Miriko moves on, not willing to touch on that subject. It’s an issue for another time, and an issue she wants no part in explaining.

“I am considerably weaker now than I was when we first met. y/n transforming did a number on my technique. I believe if we are able to weaken Sukuna to the point I am at, I would be able to kill him.”

The words hang in the air like static as each of you processes what’s been said. Along with it, a new hope. A solution, maybe.

“How weak are we talkin’?” Gojo tilts his head, leaning closer to you in the process.

Miriko ponders the question for a moment. “My technique relies on souls in my domain and my river is at approximately half of its original capacity.”

“So chip him down to half? That’s do-able,” Yuji looks to Gojo for reassurance, the two nodding at one another.

“As much as I would like to agree with you both, Sukuna outclasses me. I do not believe it will be so easy.”

“I can do it,” Gojo says confidently, setting his large palm over your thigh reassuringly as you cast him a worried glance. His touch still sends electricity through you, a feeling so unfamiliar and yet comforting.

The idea of taking on Sukuna is an uptaking, and it certainly won’t be easy. You know it, Yuji knows it, and Gojo knows it, even in spite of his confidence. But it’s a sliver of hope, and you have time to prepare, to train. To flesh out a plan.

Better yet, you have someone alongside you who's not only on your side, but rooting for you. Someone who cares for you. In fact, as you glance between Miriko’s appearance on your palm, Satoru at your side and Yuji across from you, you realize you have some sort of semblance of a family.

A family you’d give your life to protect, and it warms your heart in ways you hadn’t thought possible anymore. Finally, your life feels fulfilling again and-

Gojo stands suddenly, whipping around to face the treeline on the far side of the meadow behind you.

“Satoru?” You ask quietly, unable to see what had caught his attention as you follow his gaze. You turn your attention back to the sorcerer, confusion turning to concern as his hand reaches out to grip your shoulder steadily. What really strikes fear into you is the way it feels like he’s doing so to hold you back.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You freeze, every blood cell in your body running cold as dread twists in your stomach. Satoru’s grip on your shoulder tightens further as you twist your head to get a view of the newcomer.

Your whimper could stop a force of nature with the gravity of your pain as your lips part to speak.

“Kento?”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || thank you for staying with me through all these chapters! this was such a fun chapter to write and went through many iterations but i'm pretty happy with the outcome ♡ god i love gojo

[princessdimondheart]

The Twins | Ghost x Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader + Their Twins

Warnings: 🔪- violence, terrorist act, blood, inaccurate medical scenes; 😭- fear, emotional stuff, family; 🥺- well deserved happiness

Edited: No

A/N: Simon’s mother doesn’t have a canon name so I decided it’s based off of a flower. You pick which one. Almost 8k words 😳. Part 2? Idk. Sorry it took so long! 😭😭

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Tommy brushed his short hair back like it would do anything. It was a standard military cut, close shaven but not exactly bald. When he had it cut- to get used to it he told himself- his twin sister, Violet, laughed in his face. Said he looked like an escaped inmate with the cut or someone from pre-Y2K. He pouted remembering it, he had yelled something about her blue-dyed hair being basic and threw a dirty sock in her face. She yelled and then grabbed his arm and proceeded to throw him over her shoulder. He really should have seen it coming. Her hard work in Tai Kwon Do really paid off. His back and ass hurt for the next few days. 

Unfortunately, his poor mother paid witness to the little altercation. She was tired from a long shift at the hospital and was laying on their gray couch munching on Doritos. She only shook her head when he whined to her about Violet. She told him that if he wanted to join the army like he dreamed about, then he would have to toughen up and not complain about things whenever they went wrong. A distant look shown in her eyes. An old memory most likely; one of their long gone father, a military man, and one of the reasons why Tommy wanted to join. To follow in his father’s footsteps despite his job being the reason he wasn’t in their life anymore. He and his twin got quiet and then went their separate ways. They knew how much the loss of their father hurt their mother and they didn’t want to bring her any more pain by mentioning him when she’s emotionally drained from her shift. 

When Tommy had told her that he wanted to join the army, his mother froze in shock before tears spilled from her eyes. A hand covered her sobs and her brow furrowed. He had never seen his mother cry before and it nearly had him spiraling. He rushed to hug his mother asking her what was wrong. When she calmed down, she pulled back and held his cheek in her hand. 

“You’re just like your father. I knew something like this was going to happen but I wasn’t sure it would be so soon.” She wiped her tears with her other hand. “It’s okay, you can go if you really want to.”

He didn’t realize the tears building up in his eyes until they were running down his face. He was only 15 but he was already a head taller than his mother. She said he got his height from his father. Tommy had to tell her his decision because her permission was what would get him into the army when he turned 16. He had no other dreams, just the army and making his parents proud. 

“Tommy! Are you done checking yourself out? We need to go to this last store before heading home.” Violet’s voice crashed his preening in front of a mirror in an H&M store. “The sun’s already set and we’re running late as it is.”

“Chill, Vi, we don’t always have to be punctual. Mom’s on shift anyways, we can go home at whatever time we want!” He looked at her through the mirror. 

She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing, “says the boy that wants to join the army where punctuality is very important.” 

Violet’s eye color was from her mother, in fact, all of her looks were from her, even her height except her eye shape was from their dad. Tommy was the one who was almost a carbon copy of their dad. There were slight variations in their looks, like skin tone and hair texture but nothing too different. He liked the fact that he looked like his dad. It made him feel closer to him in a way. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s go so you can shut your whining. I am in the army.” Tommy mumbled the last part under his breath. He shoved a hand in his pocket and pushed the other in front of her face, wiggling his fingers for the bags she was holding. She handed them over when he moved his hand closer to her face and she swatted it away. Sure, he messed around with his sister but he was still a gentleman. His mother would fry his ass if he was anything but. 

They were heading to Piccadilly Circus to look at the stores in search of a birthday present for their mom. It was coming up soon and they were running behind in the gift department. All other aspects of the little party they were planning were already put together, the only thing left was her gift. Now that he was in the army for just over a year, he had some money saved up and was planning on using it for her gift. That was the reason why he was here, he was on leave for her birthday next week. Violet suggested a nice pair of earrings and a necklace for her since she doesn’t really own jewelry other than her wedding bands. Tommy readily agreed. 

The walk from H&M to the square wasn’t longer than ten minutes but they took their time window shopping along the way. The square was decently crowded, it was a Thursday after all and there were plenty of tourists and locals scurrying in and out of the shops. Tommy rubbed his hands together, it was cold that night. Unusual for the time of year but he assumed global warming was to blame. He really wished spring would finish up so summer could get here. 

~~~~~

Ghost was methodically sharpening his knife on a whetstone when Price knocked on his door with a loud bang. His masked head whipped up and he gripped the knife tighter. 

“Load up, Simon. My office, yesterday!” His voice was hurried and gruff. Something was going down and that made Ghost kit up faster than normal. Grabbing his gun he was out of his room in less than a minute. 

In Prices office was the rest of 141, Gaz and Soap were kitted up in their tactical vests with their weapons slung over their shoulders. No one was sitting. 

“We just got word that a terrorist plot is going to go down tonight at Piccadilly Circus. We’re going to head over there before it goes down.” Price shook his head. “Hopefully our presence deters them or we’re able to put a stop to them before anyone gets hurt.”

Gaz was reasonably upset. He had been there for the first attack on the square a few years ago. It was actually how he got into Price’s sights in the first place and joined the Task Force. “Again? Seriously?”

The Captain gave him a knowing look. “If it’s going to be an issue, you can stay here Kyle. You don’t have to go.”

“No-no, sir. It won’t be an issue.” Gaz sighed. “I just hope it turns out better than last time.”

Soap patted him on the shoulder. Price nodded at him and then walked to his office door. 

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~

Violet had tugged on Tommy’s jacket and pointed out a jewelry store that seemed promising. Luckily it was still open so they both went inside. The clerk greeted them but wasn’t as attentive to them because of their youth. That is until they told her their budget. Typical. 

She was looking into the bright glass boxes filled with different types of jewelry in gold, silver, diamonds or other precious stones. Tommy wasn’t really paying attention to her. He fiddled with his dog tags and the busted up ones that belonged to his father. They rested over his jacket. He’d hum and glance at a necklace she was pointing to but he was rather distracted. There was a small commotion just across the street near the metro entrance. 

A black van pulled up and several men jumped out of it seemingly inconspicuous. He thought nothing of it until he saw a handgun sticking out of his waistband. Now, Tommy didn’t do that great in the section about their laws in school but he sure as hell knew that guns were illegal in their country. His brows furrowed, and Violet tugged at his sleeve once more to get his attention. 

“Tommy! What’s with you?” She voiced her annoyance. “What are you looking at?”

She peered around him but didn’t notice what he was staring at so intensely. Tommy noticed that one of the men planted something on a nearby car parked on the street. He felt something go through his body. It was a feeling of cold and dread. Dread of what was most likely going to happen. What it was he didn’t have a clue. He just felt the cold chill his blood and goosebumps ran down his arms. 

His eyes widened in shock and fear when one of the men pulled out an assault rifle from the truck. He only had a few seconds. 

“Get down!” Was all he could manage to get out. 

Tommy turned and grabbed his twin by her arms, pulling her into his body. The shots rang out directly towards them and in various directions. He vaguely remembered hearing a loud boom ring out. Screams spread around them. Tommy could only feel the burning sensations coming from his right arm, lower back and left leg. Violet’s screams were muffled by his jacket, the dog tags dug into her face. Her head had hit the ground hard despite Tommy covering it with his hand, and it throbbed in that dull way. Glass shattered around them and alarms were going off. They dropped heavily to the ground. Tommy’s body was covering Violet’s protecting her from the blaze of bullets still lodging themselves in the walls around them. 

Violet screamed again as one land near their heads. Tears ran down both their faces. He tightened his grip on her. 

“Violet- Violet, please.” He grunted. “It’s okay, we-we’re gonna be fine. Just lay down. S-stay quiet, yeah, you’re good, Vi.”

She was shaking. He was shaking. Although his body was prepared for going to war, his mind had yet to catch up. Although, Tommy wasn’t sure if it was nerves that was causing him to shake, the cold chill spilling through the shattered store front, or the blood seeping out from his wounds. 

Violet felt wet but she couldn’t figure out what it was. At first she thought she had wet herself in fear but the feeling was coming from her torso. She turned her head as best as she could and saw Tommy grimacing in pain. Her eyes looked further down and saw the blood pooling under her. She wasn’t in pain. 

“Tommy! Ta-Tommy, you’re bleedin’!” Her voice pitched high with alarm. She sobbed into his shoulder. Her hands tucked into her body pulled out and wrapped around his back. She held him tight. 

“I-I’m fine, Vi.” He stuttered out. He was feeling weak from the blood loss. 

“Don’t l-lie to me Tommy.” She hiccuped. “You’re s-shit at it.”

More explosions rang beyond the store. They shook the building they were in. Pieces of debris were falling from the ceiling, landing on and around them. Suddenly, various gunshots were fired in rapid succession and Violet worried that more terrorists had arrived. She hoped that the police or some anti-terrorist agency would arrive soon. Several minutes pass and the gunfire lessened until it finally stopped. 

“Tommy? We can get up now, l-let me put pressure on y-your wounds.” Tommy wasn’t saying anything and that worried Violet. Her breathing quickened in her panic. “Tommy!? Get up! Tommy!”

Her hand reached up to push him off of her. It was a struggle as he had gained a significant amount of weight in muscle over the last year. He weighed a ton and when she was finally able to push him off of her, Violet was huffing even with her martial arts skills. Other times she’s able to pull him over her shoulder with momentum but now he was dead weight. God she dreaded the thought. Her shaking hands scrambled to his neck. Two fingers felt for his pulse and found a faint one. It fluttered but it was still there. She sighed in relief. 

Violet tried to remember the first aid course that she took last summer that their mom’s hospital was offering to students interested in joining the medical field. She surveyed his unconscious body to find any wounds and when she found them all she got to work as best as she could. Violet took off her jacket and wrapped it around Tommy’s arm hoping to slow down the bleeding. Then she remembered that he had on a belt and so she took it off to tie around his leg. He unconsciously groaned when she tightened it. She couldn’t really put pressure on the wound on his back but she tried her best to keep a hand covering the wound. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and stayed lodged inside him. It wasn’t sanitary but it was the best she could do. 

Her body continued to shake and she looked around the destroyed jewelry store. There were other bodies lying around. Blood was smeared on the shattered glass display where the lady was standing minutes before. The lack of pained noises sent a pang through her chest. More tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Tommy’s shuddering chest below her. She wished she hadn’t insisted on stopping by the other store instead of going straight here. They would have been home earlier. She wished she were the one injured and not Tommy. She was the oldest by a few minutes and it was her job to protect her little twin brother. She wished her mom was there to help Tommy. She wished her dad was there to help them get through this. 

She cried and cried. Pain and sadness filling her up and boiling over in body racking sobs. Her hand gripped one of Tommy’s. 

The silence was almost unbearable, until it wasn’t. 

~~~~~

They were too late, again. The intel that they had been receiving lately was always a little too late than normal. Ghost knew that Price was gonna have a word with all the intelligence personnel when they were done with the mess that was before them. Gaz was pissed as his expression showed. They’d all seen similar scenes like this before but it always hurt more when it happens on home soil. 

The police had arrived but were not as prepared as the Task Force, so they set up a perimeter not letting anyone in or out. They had dispatched all of the terrorists within a few minutes of them being in Piccadilly Circus. A few had lingered in the square while others had gone into some of the shops. Once the area was cleared and the police had began searching for survivors, Price had them doing the same. 

“Soap, Gaz, go together and look for anyone still breathing on the north side. Ghost and I’ll stay on the south side of the square.” They split up and began their search. 

Ghost passed a few bodies that weren’t alive. He saw the Captain flinch at the body of a child but he never said anything. Children were always hard in their line of work but for him it hit closer to home than what Ghost could ever understand. 

“Hello? Is anyone alive?! We’re the army!” Price began to call out in hopes of an answer back. 

There was silence yet it was loud. Sirens, alarms, and broken glass crunched underfoot and around them. They saw that the police and EMTs had found a majority of the survivors near them so they pushed further into the square. Price called out again and a muffled cry called back. 

“Help! Help me please!” The feminine voice cried to them. Her voice pulled them towards her like a lifeline. 

They ran to where the voice came from, a rather famous jewelry store that didn’t look as nice as before. The broken glass and bullet holes would turn anyone away. Ghost made it to the entryway first but Price stopped him with his hand. He gave him a look and went in first. Then Ghost remembered his skull mask and the fear it brought to people, especially civilians, so he waited until he was needed. The familiar crackle of the radio was heard faintly. 

“Shite, get in here Ghost! They’re kids!” Great, another demographic that he wasn’t really good with. When he stood by them he realized that these kids were older than what he thought. They were teenagers. 

Then, he froze. 

Years of memories rushed through his mind in seconds. The sound of laughter… a certain hair color… the smell of her favorite perfume… her flowers, whose scent would waft up his nose whenever he came home. Things he so painfully remembered and yet chose to let go so as to not cause tremendous harm. A feeling that he had longed to never let go. He grasped at the tendrils for a short while before that dreadful night. 

Those eyes… they were her eyes. At first he thought that she was kneeling there before him, but then remembered that more than a decade had passed and she would have changed in that time. Rarely had he seen her with tears streaked down her face. Or blood on her clothes…

Her look-alike cried out a sob and reality overtook his memories. 

“Please, please help my brother he got shot.” The girl pleaded looking up as he walked closer. She wasn’t scared of him in the mask but she was for her brother. That’s when Ghost looked down. 

Was he staring in a mirror? This boy. This kid. It was like looking at a photo of his younger self. 

Clink.

Ghost’s eyes snapped to the sound of metal in Prices hand. He’d already done a glance over of the boy and decided that the girl did a good job of wrapping his wounds with what she had. 

“Are these his?” Price asked the distraught girl. 

“Y-yeah. Tommy just joined the army not long ago. Barely over a year in.” She breathed in deeply as if to calm her mind. 

Tommy… he knew a Tommy once. His own brother. Every piece was coming together. He was one, and they were the other two. Just one was left…

“…and the other?” Price continued. He didn’t need to ask but he wanted to confirm the information he held. The cheeky bastard. 

“It’s our fathers… or what’s left of him.” Those same eyes as her looked down. Sadness filled them. Sadness for himself, he realized. A father long gone. Those were the tags that he left behind in the wreckage. Now here they were… somehow returned to him. 

Ghost hardly remembered when the ambulance pulled up in front of the store. Or when the EMTs moved Tommy onto the stretcher. But he did remember the smell of his blood and the salt in the air from her tears. 

Price was able to convince the EMTs to let them go with Tommy and his sister. They weren’t happy about it but decided that armed men tagging along with them after a terrorist attack wouldn’t be so bad. He’d also radioed Soap and Gaz of their departure. They had found some victims buried under rubble and were trying to get them out with some firefighters. 

Price whispered low enough for only Ghost to hear. “You doin’ okay, Simon?”

He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? His new-found daughter was siting across from him while his son lay injured, bleeding out from wounds caused by a terror act not thwarted by his team. He felt useless. Yet, he felt grateful that he was able to meet his children in a way. The situation was horrible, but that brought them together; and it was highly likely that if it had not happened then he would have never learned about them. He’d have probably died in combat before he ever heard whispers of them. No, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would continue on the path placed in front of him, for now at least. 

He just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent. That must have been enough for Price as he just eyed him for a bit before looking down at what the EMTs were doing to stabilize Tommy. 

“Oh!” Price jolted in realization. “We never got your name, love! So sorry.” 

The girl looked up at them. She glanced at him then at John. Ghost must have looked strange sitting there in his black gear. They both definitely looked out of place in the ambulance. 

“It’s fine. I’m Violet… Mister…?” She wasn’t stuttering anymore but her voice was subdued and scratchy from her crying. 

“Call me John, young lady.” He nodded at her. “And this is Ghos-“

“Simon, will do.” He had no idea why he cut him off or why he gave her his name, but it brought a grin to Prices lips. 

“Oh, it’s like my da-“ The ambulance coming to a stop cut her off and the EMTs began off-loading the gurney. 

They moved themselves out of the way and followed closely behind as he was rolled into the emergency department. There were other ambulances dropping off patients from the attack. EMTs, doctors and nurses were coming in and out, and there was a heavy police presence at the entrances. 

Inside was more chaotic. The hospital was in Code Orange for mass casualty or disasters. 

Patients lay in gurneys as nurses and residents tended to them. Many of the dead rested under blood soaked sheets, yet to be moved to the morgue. Blood pooled on the white floors, some of it was stepped on and tracked throughout the rooms. Cleaning workers did their best to mop up the evidence of the nights tragedy. Very few had minor injuries. Friends and family were there searching for missing relatives. One of the smarter police officers began a missing persons board and had them write descriptions of the missing. 

As Violet stepped through the automatic door, she saw her mom finish tending to an older lady who had been grazed by bullets and suffered a concussion when she fell over. She fiddled with her gloves. It was loud in there but when she called for her mother, the older woman’s head shot up in fear. 

“Mom!”

Hearing this, Ghost’s eyes scanned the crowd. He had to find her. A face he hadn’t seen in years, unless he counted the similarities with his daughter. It wasn’t so hard. He’d recognize her face if he was blind and only had his hands to see. 

She was older, of course, but no less as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was styled differently, likely due to her job, but still shined healthily. Her scrubs were in her favorite color and a blood stained white lab coat donned her body. She wore blue gloves and a face mask as she tended to her patients. 

“Violet!” She speedily walked to her daughter, passing between other doctors and nurses. Fingers tugged on latex and she dumped the gloves in a garbage can filling up with similar bloody items. Her hands rested on Violet’s shoulders as she couldn’t hug her with all the blood on her. 

She gasped when she saw Tommy. 

“Tommy!” She cried and tears flooded her eyes. Her hands went to his cut up face. “You were there?!”

An EMT asked her to help them. “This patient needs immediate care, doctor!”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m too close to the patient.” She stuttered. 

She looked around her in the chaos for a free doctor. She hardly noticed the two armed men hanging back. Her eyes stopped on her colleague. He had worked as a doctor for over forty years and had done thousands of surgeries. He had been a great mentor to her since she first started working at this hospital. 

“Jack! Dr. Yates!” She called over to him loud enough for others to look over. The older gentleman startled but made a bee-line for her. When he was close, she grabbed a part of his white sleeve. “Please, doctor, help my son. I’m too close to work on him properly.”

The grayed man gave a look over Tommy and had them immediately push him to an open operating room. He grasped her upper arm. “Don’t you worry your brilliant mind, sunny. We’ll get him spick and span in no time. Take a break for a few minutes, you’ve been running around since 5 this mornin’.”

Letting go, she only nodded along as they wheeled Tommy away. She allowed a tear to fall. It dripped onto the floor, mixing with other bodily fluids that fell from their patients. She tried not to let her fear of her losing another person get to her. 

Not again. Not here. Not now. 

“Mom?” Violet called for her worried about her sudden silence. She tugged on the back of her white coat, which was still white, surprisingly. That got her moving. 

“Violet? Are you alright? You’re okay, right? There’s blood all over you!” She inhaled once. “Do I need to get you som-“

“Mom! I’m fine! Honestly!” Violet interrupted, her bottom lip wobbled. “T-Tommy protected me. He saved me, mom!”

She sobbed harder than before and her mom, now not caring for the blood, pulled her in for a tight hug. They clung to each other desperately. Violet was shorter than her mom so she was able to burry her face into her neck. Tears wetting her skin and clothes. 

Movement behind them, made her look up, unsure if anyone else needed help. It was the two men that had come in with Violet. She had not really noticed them before because all her focus was directed to Tommy and Violet; her two most important things in life. Both had some blood on, what she now realized was military kits, and they stood there in silence carrying their weapons slung over their shoulders. One wore a funny fishing hat and the other had a rather fitting face mask for the overall mood of the day. The skull plated mask hid the face underneath. Her eyes lingered and he caught her gaze. 

Ghost stared at his once-wife in the eyes. The eyes that would always making him feel like he was falling deeper into her soul. She spoke but his ears weren’t working. Price answered and his hand whacking his arm made him blink twice and their staring ended when she looked at Prices hand. 

“No, we’re fine… Doctor…?” Price answered her worries of injury. 

“I’m Doctor-“

“Dr. Riley!” A nurse interrupted her. Ghost felt his chest tighten. She’d kept his name. “We need you here! He’s code blue-ing!”

She sprang from her daughters arms. “Coming! Violet go to my office and stay there for me, please. I’ll be back soon, hopefully.”

Violet nodded before her mom ran off to where the patient had just rolled in. She jumped onto the gurney and began chest compressions. The EMTs continued to the elevator and up to the operating rooms like nothing had happened. More nurses followed them into the large elevator. Her mom pumping that mans chest was the last she’d see of her for the next few hours. 

She was still a Riley. His Riley. After all these years, he remembered her saying that she wanted to keep her maiden name for her doctor status. He was always okay with that and knew she’d never change her mind, despite her taking his name, although hyphenated, when they married. He wondered what made her change her mind. Then he remembered that he had ‘died’ several months before her graduation as a resident. He reminisced on how he snuck in to see her one last time at the ceremony before running away to the battlefield. 

Price eyed Ghost as he stood there staring at the closed elevator doors, even when they opened as another body was taken down to the morgue. He looked tense, brows furrowed, pained, and understandably so. His whole life just flipped over and over in the matter of a few hours. 

But then Ghost glanced at his hands. Bloodied hands. Tommy’s blood. Then to Violet and then back again to the dried blood. The blood of his only son. It dawned on him that he almost lost him. Almost her. Both of them could have been stripped of their lives. And so easily too. He hardly knew them and that hurt him even more. 

“Ah… let’s escort you to your mums office, yeah?” Price called to Violet, who was also spacing out. 

She wiped her face and nodded. She led them to the stairwell and they climbed up two stories. Several corridors down and they were in a decent sized office. Price told them he would get them some snacks and drinks at the vending machines he saw awhile back. Ghost knew he was giving him time to talk to Violet. He was somewhat grateful and annoyed that Price knew what he needed. 

They both sat down on the cushioned chairs. Violet flung herself down with a loud sigh. She was drained both mentally, physically and emotionally. She wanted this nightmare to be over. 

“You’re Violet, right?” His deep voice asked and Violet’s eyes drifted upward. He’d heard her name multiple times, was even introduced, but he needed the confirmation again. 

“Yeah, I’m Violet… why?” She looked a bit confused, brow raised just like her mother used to give him. 

His chest tightened and he felt like he couldn’t get the words past his lips but he forced himself to. There was no better time than right now. “I- I just know your mum… that’s all.”

“Really? Why didn’t she recognize you?” She asked but Ghost pointed at his masked face and she blushed. “Oh, right.” 

The silence was awkward for a moment before Violet spoke, surprising Ghost with her words. 

“Well… I like your mask. Kinda edgy. It’s actually pretty cool… for an old man.”

“How do you know I’m old?” Ghost tilted his head slightly. 

Violet scoffed and crossed her arms, leaning back into the chair. “You know my mom, so you’ve gotta be old.” Ghost almost rolled his eyes; she was gonna be the death of him. Then she looked contemplative. 

“Do you think Tommy will still be able to be in the army?” She looked at his eyes, her brows furrowed even more. “It’s been his dream for the longest and now that he’s in, I don’t think he’d ever get out… but if he’s discharged, I think that’ll hurt him the most.” 

Ghost didn’t say anything right away so she continued her little rant. “Mom tried to get him to go to uni, but his heart was set on the army ever since he learned that our dad was in. He held onto that dream for so long and when mom let him go, well, I’ve never seen him so happy…”

Her breath shortened as tears ran down her face. “I—I should have been paying more attention. It’s my fault. I have no situational awareness, damnit, even Tommy’s told me that before. If I’d noticed sooner or realized what was going on, he wouldn’t be hurt. I’m the older twin. I should be-be the one taking care of him!” She sobbed harder. 

Ghost came to kneel in front of her. He took her hand that was twisting her bloody shirt. “It’s not your fault. You, nor anyone there, knew what was about to happen. Terrorists have no regards for the lives of the innocent while doing things that would harm them.”

“Tommy’s hurt but I can tell that he’s strong. I’ve been hurt like that before and I healed up fine. Plus he has even greater care here. They’ll take care of him and you only need to keep your head up and know that Tommy’ll pull through.” He continued. “He’s young so he’ll bounce back well enough to return to his unit. Don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout that.”

“Thanks.” She laugh-cried. “But it’s hard to take you seriously with that mask.” She giggled. 

Ghost huffed. “Well, Tommy pulled some heroics back there saving you. Might even earn a brag rag with the right recommendations…”

Violet’s confused head tilt made him explain the meaning. “It’s a medal.”

Her eyes brightened. “You’d do that?”

He hummed. “Captain Price might put in a good word too, but yeah, he deserves it.”

There was a sudden and somber silence. His hand gripped his knee to prevent it from bouncing. 

“Ah… any plans for uni? Or something…?” Bollocks, how the hell do you talk to a 17 year old girl, who is also your child but doesn’t know it? Improvise… he guessed?

Violet told him that she was debating going to vet school or medical school to become a surgeon like her mother. She wasn’t sure which university she would apply to. 

“Tommy keeps teasing me that I should join him in the army as a field surgeon. But… um, I think I wanna help out people in our community here.” She chuckled softly. “I told him that if he ever got hurt he could come to me to patch him up, but that I’d have to hurt him again for even getting injured in the first place.”

Ghost smiled under his mask. Mask. His mask?

Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly. Perhaps one too many whacks to the ole head. Or maybe it was the high of meeting his long lost children for the first time. Ghost wasn’t sure what it was…

His hand reached up, curling under the bottom of his balaclava, and pulled the black cloth over his head in one tug. The higher it went, the more his chin, lips, nose, cheeks, eyes, and hair was revealed. 

Violet’s breath hitched as she took his face in. Her eyes roamed over every feature and scars. She knew this face, from the back of her mind she knows that this face is like the one going through surgery right now. Like the one in the frame sitting on her mother’s desk right in front of her. Tears began to burn her eyes but did not fall. Her lip wobbled. 

~~~~~

“Violet, I am your father…” Simon’s eyes stared into hers for a moment before closing tightly. His brows scrunched together and his lips tugged into a fine line. 

“Was t-that a Star Wars reference? Or are you being serious?” Violet asked confused, burning tears finally falling. 

“You’ve seen Star Wars?” Stop deflecting, Simon!

“What?! Don’t change the subject Mr. Simon!” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Mister… Simon. Simon. Simon?”

“Yeah?” He asked, swallowing hard. 

“This doesn’t make sense! I-I must be hallucinating. Maybe, maybe I actually did die or something.” Violet’s voice shook. She closed her eyes and moved her head side to side. There was a subtle shake to her body. “Nope! This is not fucking real! You’re supposed to be dead! Dead, I tell you!”

Oh god, she’s reverting back to her drama club days. 

“Umm… language?” Not the time to reprimand her for her words. “I mean. Sorry. It’s… It’s just a really, really long story. I actually don’t know how I’d tell-“

“Daddy!” Violet sobbed and before Simon could comprehend it, the teenager had her arms wrapped around him as much as she could with his size and body armor. 

The shock in his eyes softened with her continued sobbing. It struck him in his heart. All the walls he’d built since before joining the Task Force began to crumble. Piece by piece, chunks began to disintegrate. His own eyes burned with tears that hadn’t fallen in years. It was almost a relief when they did start to fall. They dropped onto Violet’s shoulder and rolled down her back. 

Simon didn’t know how long they held onto each other for. Hours or days could pass but he would rather still be in the newfound embrace of his daughter. Violet had settled into soft sniffles and little hiccups, eventually falling asleep in his lap. His own tears had dried, for now, leaving streaks down his cheeks. For a moment, it felt peaceful despite the chaos several floors down and a few streets away. His arms tightened around Violet. He wasn’t sure if he could ever let her go… 

His eyes staring off into the wall flashed to the door when it was pushed open. And there she was. 

~~~~~

Dr. Riley sighed as the sound of the EKG flatlining continued. They had initially brought the patient back from cardiac arrest and proceeded with the surgery. However, in the last fifteen minutes he began to show signs of another cardiac episode. The nurses and she had tried their best but unfortunately the patient’s wounds were too much for his body to handle. 

Pulling off her bloody gloves and dumping them into the hazardous waste disposal, she told the nurses to take a breather since they’d been going at it for hours by that point. Hell, her shift had long been over when her daughter and son had arrived but she had stayed. She couldn’t bear leaving while knowing that many people were suffering. She’d seen over a dozen patients when the casualties started pouring in, almost tripling her patient count for the day. 

A quick change of clothes in a designated room and she was walking back to her office. Eerily, the floor her office was on was quiet. There were other busy wards here but the chaos was concentrated downstairs. She heard her crocs squeak on the polished floors. It used to make her blush at the loudness of the sound but now she couldn’t give a fuck. Her patients needed her, damnit!  As if a squeaky shoe would hold her back from reaching her patients on time just because she was embarrassed by the sounds. 

Reaching the door to her office, she noticed that the light was on letting her know that Violet had made it in one piece. 

“Hey, Violet, are you hungry-!” Her eyes widened in mild confusion and concern at what she saw, before glaring slightly. “What the fuck?!”

Her Violet was in the arms of a strange grown man, she been crying, clearly as they stained her cheeks. She nearly lost her top and yelled more before focusing on the man’s features. 

It was like seeing a ghost. 

He said something but it was like cotton balls were stuffed into her ears. Whatever it was she probably needed to see an otolaryngologist. She felt something fall down her face and along her neck and into her clean scrubs. Her vision blurred. She wasn’t sure if it was from tears building up or her body moving quickly in their direction. 

~~~~~

Simon called for her by name. He hadn’t said it in a very long time. It honestly hurt him to. After all, he had left her alone and with his children no less, although he hadn’t known. He’d spent some time thinking about it while holding onto Violet. If he would have stayed had she been able to tell him about them. He would like to think that, yes, he would have stayed, but Simon wasn’t sure if his own insecurities and trauma related to his abusive father would push him from wanting to claim such a responsibility. 

She stared blankly at him. Her dull and tired eyes worried him. He knew she’d had a long and hard day. Simon missed the shine in her eyes from long ago. He was starting to feel strange with her gawking. He shifted in his seat as softly as he could to not disturb Violet. 

The movement seemed to awaken her and gave her the strength to move closer to him. But her knees weakened and Simon had to outstretch an arm in order to catch her. A loud sob fell from her lips. Slightly chapped due to lack of time to care for them that day. The jerkiness of his movement woke up Violet and when she saw her crying mother in the arm of her dad, her tears renewed. 

“Mom!” She tasted salt. The words were taken from her. 

Simon pulled her up into his lap too, before tightening his arms around both of them. Both of his girl’s hands were clutching him equally as tight. They were all breathing heavily and their bodies shook with each sob, with each inhale and exhale. Simon rested his head against theirs. Fingers tangled in their hair. 

After they all calmed down a bit, Simon began to explain what happened all those years ago. What happened to his family, why he left, and that if he had known that he was going to be a parent that he would have taken the time to think things more carefully before doing anything drastic. 

She raised her hand against his stubbled cheek. “It’s not your fault, Simon. I should have told you about the pregnancy sooner. I-I just wanted to surprise you when you came home, but…” 

He knew the ‘but,’ he never came home. Only a news article about a whole family dying in a house fire. Dog tags left to be found hours later. His only living ‘relative’ was his father. 

He needed to stop thinking about his father, who he believes may or may not still be around. But those fears of being like him as an adult presented as usual. It was a constant struggle to let those feelings go. Feelings of inadequacy surfaced and since his face wasn’t covered as usual, it was easier to see by his frown and furrowed brow. 

She recognized that look on his face despite the many years apart. She held his face in her palm. He leaned into it, his own hand coming up to hold hers closer to him. The look in her eyes told him all the reassurances that he craved. 

Violet watched all this in awe. Never would she have thought that she’d be witness to the love between her mother and father. She tucked herself closer to her father’s chest. Violet had grown even more tired after the attack and the crying. Her eyes drooped and a sigh left her lips as she fell asleep. Simon’s arm subconsciously pulled her closer. 

It felt like hours but only thirty minutes had passed before Dr. Riley got restless. She tapped Simon on the shoulder. 

“I should go check if there are any updates on Tommy.” She said and Simon, reluctantly, let her go. “I’ll come back if there’s any news. And I’ll bring you both something to eat. Surprisingly, the cafeteria has a decent sandwich selection.”

Ghost nodded and readjusted his grip on Violet to hold her with both arms. 

“I can have a cot brought in if you want?” She looked lovingly between the two. A soft smile tugged at her lips. 

“Ah… I think I’m fine, for now at least.” His pale cheeks flushed. He just couldn’t let his little girl go. Especially not when she’s sleeping so peacefully in his arms. 

She nodded and left the room. 

During that time, his phone had buzzed and a text from Price glowed back at him. He texted that he had the next few days off and to not come in to work for any reason other than emergencies. 

Simon texted back a simple, “Okay.”

~~~

Dr. Riley returned with food in paper bags and good news. Tommy was in post-op and was being moved to a private room soon. She told Simon that she could take them there. So, Simon stood with Violet in his arms, who surprisingly has not been awoken by the move. His arms were under her knees and back. 

They had arrived before Tommy so Simon took the time to survey the room. It was rather large with a couch on each side of the room. His love told him that they pulled out into beds if they wanted to use them. Simon lowered Violet onto the blue couch, resting her head on the pillow and covering her with the provided gray hospital blanket. 

Thirty minutes later and Tommy was rolled in by a team of nurses. The principle doctor residing over his care began to explain the next steps in Tommy’s recovery. It felt like a lot but Simon was intimately familiar to the process due to his own previous injuries. 

Afterwards, his love was finally able to rest so she sat next to him on the other blue couch. There was distance between them and Simon couldn’t get his body to melt into the soft couch. He could feel her glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. He spied her hand inching towards his. His eyes looked and then looked away. He argued with himself to just grab hers. He finally said ‘fuck it all’ and just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her whole body closer. 

A soft squeak escaped her lips. He buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply. It still smelled like her shampoo. She melted into his embrace. 

“Simon?” He hummed. “I don’t know how, but, thank you.”

He looked her in those eyes that kept him awake at night. “Of course.” 

~~~

Two days later… 

~~~

Bleary brown eyes fluttered open. He took several moments to blink away the crust on his eyes. The blindly white room was dark with only a soft amber lamp glowing in the far corner. He felt like his body was stuck to what he was laying on. He looked down and saw white sheets. 

A flash of dark movement caught his eye from one of the pull out beds, fully stretched out and occupied. He shifted his stiff neck to see who or what it was. 

He saw his own eyes. 

Maybe he was dead. After all, he swore he saw his father sitting there by his mother. He tried his hardest but the sedatives won the battle. His tired eyes blinked slowly before finally closing. His breath evening out in slumber. 

Wide brown eyes stared at the monitor. Only relaxing when the machine kept beeping at a constant rate. Then, Simon laid back down and clutched her closer. She sighed and moved closer to him. And damn was he happy in that moment. 

Masterlist

🔖 Taglist:

@sae1kie

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Special Needs

Gif credits

Pairing/AU: DBF!Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak

Rating: +18, Minors please don’t interact, NSFW

Summary: Joel lets you convince him that you can help him get back in shape. (Do you remember the episode of Friends where Monica convinces Chandler to work out with her? The idea came to me while watching that episode. What came out of it, however, has almost nothing to do with that episode. LOL but I used the name Geller as a tribute)

Word count: 4254

Warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 22, Joel's age is not explicitly mentioned but I would say around 46/48), pov switch (I hope I succeeded because it's my first time), reader has breasts and vagina, she is wearing shorts and a sports bra and has a ponytail, other than that there is no other particularly accurate description of her, brat taming dynamic, power dynamic, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill, please take precautions IRL), spit, cum eating, oral (m receiving), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), sex in a public place (a park LOL), risk of getting caught, swearing (A LOT), Joel is mean, reader is mean too and also a total brat, rough sex, praise kink, a little bit of orgasm control, a lot of bickering, Joel wears shorts (!!!), Joel comes inside her, sort of (?) seed kink, pet names (mostly good girl, honey, bratty little thing, cheeky little thing, babe), use of the term daddy once, readers calls Joel and old man and other nicknames multiple times, Joel slaps reader once during sex, I don’t even know what to say, you all, it’s pure filth 💀 Title is from a Placebo song.

As always, English is not my first language so please be kind, no proofreading, no editing, no beta, it’s all my fault and I’m very sorry, I hope this makes sense, otherwise pretend it never existed, thanks.

And thank you so much for reading my silly little stories, I'm still in disbelief that anyone is interested in what I write 😭

Joel hadn’t considered everything when you suggested it. He’d looked at your big, shining eyes as you told him he didn’t need to pay a lot of money to join a gym, you’d take care of getting him in shape.

Running had always been a part of you and you did it every morning so there wouldn’t be any problems.

Luckily, you had just returned from college for the summer and would be spending three months at your parents’ house before classes started again.

At first it seemed like a sentence, you would have preferred to go to Europe with your roommate but you had decided to save the money you had earned working as a waitress and you didn't feel like asking your parents for them.

As soon as you got out of your dad’s car, you saw Joel waving at you from across the street and you remembered when you had a crush on him. You thought you’d put it behind you and that it was just a passing teenage nonsense.

That day you realized that it wasn't like that, it hadn't gone away at all.

Two weeks had passed and your father had invited his best friend Joel for dinner.

Sure, why not.

You were so nervous that it took you an hour and a half to choose what to wear, your mother had come to your room twice to see what the hell you were doing and why you hadn't gone down to the kitchen to help her yet.

Why the hell did you get yourself into that situation?

After all, blowing your savings in Europe was probably not such a bad idea, after all you are 22 and had the right to enjoy your holidays. Stupid conscience, by now you could have been in Spain or Italy or even France.

You ended up wearing denim shorts and a crop top. Pretty much what you usually wore, but you thought you saw Joel peeking at your thighs few days before and you obviously liked the idea.

When your mother saw you she didn't make any comment, she had never made a fuss about how you dressed. And she certainly didn't imagine that those skimpy denim shorts were there to get her husband's best friend to look at you, it didn't even cross her mind. You were above suspicion.

When you saw him enter the dining room followed by your father you almost lost your breath.

Why was he so damn attractive? You should have convinced yourself to forget about him but you hadn't. You had tried to do it that night too, until he mentioned that he wanted to join the gym and you almost interrupted him and said "you could come running with me."

You felt like you were watching yourself from the outside and if you could you would have slapped yourself. Why had such a bullshit come out of your mouth.

Fuck.

You actually knew very well why.

Joel looked at you with a surprised expression. “Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Excuse me, you live across the street, is it possible that you’ve never seen me running? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I never noticed, kid, honestly noticing your habits is not a priority in my life” Joel had replied nonchalantly.

Your father had laughed, covering his embarrassment.

Of course he knew. He had seen you scampering around the neighborhood in those skimpy shorts and that way-low-cut sports top. He had also wondered where the hell you had bought that stuff, didn't the good old tracksuits that covered everything exist anymore?

“Well, you could at least try. We’ll start with a short route. Just a few miles, do you think you can do it?” You replied, batting your eyelashes and looking at him with an angelic expression.

“Sure, kiddo, I sweat all day to earn a living,” he retorted defiantly. “Who do you think I am?”

“An old man” you said candidly.

This time even your mother, who was usually composed and cared more about education than anything else, giggled.

Joel looked at you with an ironic expression “ok, little girl, I'm in”

“Good, then I'll see you at 6 because it will be too hot later, I'll come and knock on your door” you replied mischievously.

“Pfff Do you think it’s a problem for me to wake up early? I’ve been waking up at 5 for decades”

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday”

Joel rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

You had won, incredible.

Your father looked at him smiling and shrugged, “what can I say, I have a smart daughter”

Oh sure, you looked so pleased with yourself.

You hadn't won the war yet though.

————

The next morning you wake up at 5, get ready, put on the shortest shorts you could find, a sports top that reaches just below your breasts, and go out quietly so as not to wake your parents.

You knock on Joel's door at 6 o'clock sharp, imagining his expression when he saw you.

Joel opens the door with a cup of coffee in his hand “hey girl! do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks you with a seraphic expression painted on his face.

He would never give you the satisfaction of being caught unprepared.

“I’ve already had it at my house. Don’t try to postpone the inevitable Mr Miller.” he hates it when you call him that, it makes him feel old and you know it.

“When did you become so simpering? I need to have a chat with your father.” he smirks.

“Of course” you reply rolling your eyes “So are you ready or not? I won’t wait all morning.”

“I was born ready, little rascal, I'll take this to the kitchen and then we can go”

“K, I’ll wait here”

You drum your fingers on the door frame as you watch him walk away. “Tick tock, tick tock,” you taunt and he turns to glare at you as he walks past the kitchen threshold.

You have to admit, he looks pretty cute in shorts, in fact, who are you trying to fool… he has amazing legs.

And clearly, even if you never tell him, you think that he doesn't need anything and that the effort he puts into his job has already shaped him enough. This is just an excuse to spend time alone with him.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, closing the door and putting his keys in his pocket. “Keep up with me, old man,” you say, smiling before stepping off his porch and running as fast as you can.

You hear him swearing behind you as he tries to catch up. After a hundred meters you see him coming up beside you and he’s out of breath “you did it on purpose”

“Of course” you giggle looking straight ahead.

“Can we slow down a bit now or were you planning on giving me a heart attack?”

“Okay, okay, I don't want you on my conscience, Mr Miller,” you start walking at a fast pace “we can do this for a while”

You turn to him and see his face all red and sweaty. “Damn, are you down already?”

“Not a chance, little girl. And stop calling me Mr. Miller, you know it gets on my nerves.” he grunts trying to catch his breath

“Yes I know, Mr Miller” you reply with a flirtatious tone and you know he didn’t miss it because he turns to you and looks at you and his eyes say “I’m going to make you regret this”

“So, why did you come back here this summer?”

“College is expensive and my parents already do enough for me, I’m trying to save as much as I can.”

“It’s a smart move and indeed very thoughtful” he admits

"See? I'm not as bad as you think” you say glaring at him while you keep the pace “While we’re on the subject, you might not call me kiddo, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yeah, whatever, kiddo. I’m good now just in case you are interested”

“Ok, you asked for it” you say in a challenging tone and start running again as fast as you can.

“Hey!” He shout “you little cheeky thing!”

“Blame yourself for it, geriatric” you shout back.

Joel huffs and tries to run faster to catch up with you as you run away laughing.

He doesn't mind being behind though, he can see your ass bouncing hugged in those ridiculous shorts you've put on that barely cover your butt cheeks.

He’s not supposed to think certain things, but you've been mischievous since you got back.

He has noticed how you look at him and how you always try to argue with him, he is pretty sure that this is your way of flirting and he finds it quite funny.

And well… you're definitely cute, much cuter than he remembered.

He forced himself not to do anything because you are his best friend's daughter but you don't make it easy for him.

And now you’re here in those skimp shorts and that sports bra so small that your boobs look like they could pop out at any moment.

And the worst part is your attitude.

Fuck, you’re making a mess in his pants lately.

“Come on, old man, you can do it” oh you are so insolent in persisting in calling him old, he really should teach you a lesson.

He tries his hardest to reach you and you slow down, let him get a little closer and run away again.

“Jesus Christ” he cuss under his breath and try to run faster and you let him getting closer and then you sprint away again laughing and calling him a couch potato.

You keep going like this until he can finally reach you and he grab your wrist.

You turn to him “Hey! Let go of me!” you look like an angry kitten ready to scratch.

“Now we're taking a break,” Joel hisses.

“What the hell? There are still two miles to go”

“I SAID. We’re taking a break. Now”

“Okay, lazybones, whatever you want, don't get too nervous”

Joel is looking mad, which is so dumb, you were just kidding and he should know it.

It turns you on to see him like this though, you have to admit it.

“How about you let go of my wrist for starters?”

He lets go and looks at you askance.

He's drenched, little drops of sweat slide down the column of his neck, his black, soaked curls are plastered to his forehead, his damp t-shirt lets you glimpse the shape of his nipples.

God, he’s gorgeous.

His labored breathing sounds like a hoarse roar as he tells you, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

Yeah, you shouldn't be so horny for Joel but you can't help it.

“I’m doing nothing” you shout

“Don’t scream” his voice is low but nark.

He looks around, you are near the park and there is no one else.

Apparently you are the only ones who had the crazy idea of ​​running at 6 on Saturday morning.

He grabs your arm and drags you inside, you try to resist “Joel!” but you don’t really want to. He stops behind a tree and pushes you against it.

“You’re trying to do nothing, huh? You haven't been trying to tease me since you got here, have you?“

“No” you say, but you're so delighted that he noticed.

“So at the Geller party last week you didn’t intentionally drop your glass in front of me and bend over to pick it up so I could see your panties, right?”

“I dropped a glass, that's all,” you coo.

“And not even the day you stood naked in front of your bedroom window? You knew I was in the garden, you saw me“

“I was in my room and I had just showered. It's not my fault that you are a voyeur”

“Sure. And the other day when I met you and your father at the cafe and you were eating ice cream? Even then you weren’t trying to do anything?”

Oh. He noticed that too.

Yep, you were busy with that spoon. Pretty cliché of you, you felt so silly.

But apparently it worked.

“It's you who sees mischief where there’s nothing”

“Oh sure, I imagined it” he hiss

You feel the bark stinging your back as he presses you against it, his arms at either side of you stretched out against the tree.

You could duck and run away if you wanted to. The point is, you don't want to.

“And tell me, what did you think you were going to do with these shorts and this top?”

“I was thinking of running” you shrug, and you look at him batting your eyelashes.

He snorts, “You’re such a brat”

You raise your chin slightly, resting your head against the tree “So what?” you ask defiantly “What do you want to do, you moldy old rag, punish me?”

He presses you even more against the tree, staying an inch from your face. You can feel his breath blowing on your skin.

“This attitude will not bring you anything good”

“oooh how scary”you whisper, looking him straight in the eyes.

He licks his lips “Is this what you want?”

“Yes”

His mouth is crushing on yours in a second, his tongue forces your lips and slips inside licking you hungrily and leaving you breathless, his beard scratching your skin.

You grab his cock through his shorts squeezing it and you can feel it’s already hard.

He pulls off and hiss “Fuck, baby, you don’t waste time”

“Yes, I never liked wasting my time” you purr

He takes your hand and raises your arm, pinning it against the tree. “And you think you deserve that?” he asks you authoritatively.

“What the fuck. Of course I do”

“I don’t think so. Here's what you're going to do now. You're going to shut your mouth and do what I tell you to do.”

“No” you hiss

“Oh you will, brat, if you want my dick”

“Fuck”

He looks around again to make sure there is no one in the park. “Kneel down.”

“On the ground?” you raise your eyebrow

“Yeah, on the ground princess. Kneel”

“But I-”

“KNEEL. Fuck, don't make me raise my voice, someone might hear”

You kneel in front of him and he pulls down his shorts just enough to pull his cock out.

It's huge.

You swallow, wondering how you're going to fit it in your mouth.

“Open” he orders

“It won’t fit” you’re suddenly intimidated.

“It will fit, darling, open wide”

“But Joel…”

“Open. Wide.”

You open your mouth as wide as you can and wait. He spit in his hand and strokes himself a couple of times and then starts to slide it into your mouth, onto your tongue.

Your gag reflex almost gets the better of you when you feel it hit the back of your throat.

His salty, musky flavor is all over your mouth.

Luckily you manage to hold back and look up at him “Just like that, honey. See how much easier it is when you stop being a brat?”

He grabs your ponytail and starts moving your head up and down its length, the ground scrapes your knees, you try to breathe through your nose but you're still tired from the run and it's not like Joel has given you so much time to recover.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing but Joel immediately scolds you “eyes on me” and he tugs on your hair.

You grunt and in response he starts fucking your mouth again harder than before.

“Do as I say or your pussy won't even get touched today.”

And you stupidly think “well, I can do it myself” and you bring one hand up your shorts, right above your clit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you immediately hear him say as he takes his cock out of your mouth.

His hand is still tight on your ponytail, he pulls your head and slaps his cock on your cheek.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes” you murmur

“A little bit louder, babe. I can’t hear you”

“Yes” you repeat.

“You don't have an ending until I say so, you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good. Stick out your tongue for me, baby”

And you do. You want it too much.

He goes back into your mouth and starts rutting into it savagely.

You feel tears stinging your eyes and the ground is now unbearable under your knees but you don't protest anymore, his big fat cock throbbing between your lips and its veins sliding on your tongue are too delicious to do without.

You feel your panties getting soaked.

You look into his eyes again and you can see a pleased expression painted all over his face.

It's so infuriating and rousing at the same time.

Fuck, Joel Miller.

You don't even know how long he keeps fucking your mouth, you’re totally cock drunk at this point.

His orgasm takes you by surprise, you feel his seed invade your mouth and drip down your chin.

He finally pulls back and smear his seed all over your lips with his thumb.

He forces your lips with his finger “lick it clean, babe”

And you do, like a kitten starved.

“Such a good girl” and his little praise goes straight to your clit.

He finally gets you off the ground and he puts his cock back in his pants.

You look down at your knees, they’re full of grass and dirt, you brush them off with the back of your hand and they hurt. Great. You already know you’re going to get bruises.

“What are you going to tell your parents?”

“That I gave you a blowjob in the park after running. What do you think? Jesus, I'll pretend that I fell to the ground like an idiot" and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, bratty little thing” Joel smirk defiantly.

You sit up and lean back against the tree. You tug on his shirt, pulling him closer to you. “So are you going to fuck me or are you too old to come twice in a row?”

He doesn't even answer, he takes your wrists and holds them still against the tree with one hand, while he slips the other one past the elastic of your shorts and into your panties.

His thick, calloused fingers slide over your folds “You’re already soaking wet” and without warning he slides his index and middle fingers into your hole while his thumb presses on your clit.

You gasp so hard and he just says “God, you’re so tight, babe” and he starts curling them up into you “How does it feel?”

“Good” you whisper “so good, Joel, I feel so full”

“Yeah baby, that’s what daddy’s fingers are made for, to fill your pussy well” his scent mixed with sweat pervades your nostrils, he lowers his face to your neck and bites your skin while he doesn't stop moving inside you.

“Fuck” you hiss. You're intoxicated by him, your head is spinning “fuck, don’t stop, please”

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

And it’s absolutely true.

Joel shouldn't say this, but you've been stuck in his head like a nail since the day you got back and you won't leave him alone.

And now that he has let go of the leash of his inhibitions, it seems impossible to stop. He no longer knows how many times he has stopped to look at you, completely sucked in, his eyes glued to the curve of your ass or the roundness of your breasts, your nipples that peeked out from the fabric of your shirt.

And he managed to remain quiet anyway, until you pushed yourself to the limit by suggesting to go for a run together. And now he's even more fucked, because he's realized that feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock, your body on his, your tits pressed against his chest and your pussy opening up to his fingers is enrapturing.

And your shitty attitude actually makes him hornier.

“Fuck” he says in a hushed tone “Gosh, babe, you’re so pretty like that, all worked up over my fingers.”

“It feels so good, Joel, so good” you whine and you can hear you heart pounding in your chest so hard, he’s tormenting you as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you “More, I want more”

“Ask nicely” his voice is firm

You look him in the eyes and you wonder why he can't be satisfied with your gaze, you're sure it’s eloquent enough at this moment.

“Please, Joel”

“What do you want, honey?”

“Your cock”

It’s incredible that you’re doing this in this park, you’re begging him to fuck you here.

In an hour at most it’ll start to fill up with people, probably even some of your neighbors who have known you forever. “Manners, babe” He bites one of your nipple through your sports bra and sucks greedily, wetting the fabric.

“Your cock - ah - please”

He lets go of your wrists and his hand comes out of your underwear, your pussy aching for a release.

He pulls down your shorts and frees his cock again, he puts your panties aside and takes his cock in his hand “spit” he orders you.

You look at him for a moment without understanding, dazed at the idea of ​​having to take his massive cock in your cunt, which is what you asked for.

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes “wake up honey. spit on it” he repeats.

You gather some saliva in your mouth and then let it drip from your lips, letting it fall onto his cock.

“Good girl. You'd be even better if you didn't make me repeat things twice, we need to work on this”

He pushes you back against the tree and slides inside you in one go and yes, you are dripping but his intrusion still rocks you for a moment.

It burns.

He stands still and looks you in the eyes “listen, we don’t have much time princess, don’t pout like that”

“Asshole” you say under breath.

He slaps you “watch your mouth, pretty thing”

Your cheek burns and yet you’re never been so aroused by anyone before.

“Fuck. Just… fuck me, please. Please, Joel”

He grabs your ass cheeks and starts moving inside you. You try to stifle your moans but one escapes your lips “God! Please Joel, please”

“Shut up. I wish I could stuff your panties in your mouth, brat” He silences you with a kiss while you think you wish he could.

And you're so delusional that you think "next time."

He licks into your mouth while he’s pumping into you, hitting your cervix just right, again and again.

And you’re almost there.

He pulls away from your mouth to catch his breath “Joel - I think - I think I’m coming”

He’s still pumping, faster and harder.

You hold onto his shoulders and clench your fists into his shirt “Joel I’m - ah- coming”

“Yes I feel it, I feel your pussy squeezing me, you’re doing it so good, so good for me, baby.”

“Joel” you're begging him, you're so close that you feel like you've lost your mind “Joel, please”

“Come for me, baby” he finally says against your skin “come hard for me”

You’ve been waiting for his permission and now that he's given it to you you feel your whole body shudder as a devastating orgasm washes all over you.

You're quivering against his broad chest, digging your nails into his shirt, trying to moan as little as possible to avoid making yourself heard.

He holds you tight as your legs shake.

He's still inside you and starts pumping harder after giving you time to calm down a bit "where do you want me to come?" "Inside" you whisper

"Fuck, baby, seriously?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill, please Joel, please fill me up"

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, please give it to me”

“Yeah, you want it, huh? You want my cum dripping down your legs, huh?

You nod “yes, please, please Joel”

And he explodes inside you an instant later, you feel thick sticky streaks of his seed painting your walls and he’s grunting so hard.

He takes it off you and puts it back in his pants, you fix your panties and shorts as best you can and you already feel it dripping between your thighs and it's a sensation that drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like that, all sweaty and hot for me”

You smile at him, actually grateful “it was amazing”

“Come on, let's get out of here before anyone sees us”

As soon as he finishes saying this, you see a man with a dog on a leash pass by on the other side of the park.

FUCK.

You run away as fast as you can and once outside Joel stops on the sidewalk, bending over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Fuck, do you think he saw us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But you know what? I don’t care.”

“You’re such a bad girl.”

Maybe you do, but you really don’t care, you’re too happy.

[leothil]

fic recs: archive edition 20

I realized today that Mondays actualy are a pretty good day for posting these lists! We're no longer getting our weewoo fix on Mondays, so it's a great time to dive into some fics to soothe the longing until Thursday arrives (or Friday, for those of us living in future timezones).

This week I chose fics that have some kind of AU elements or strong canon divergence, all from november 2021.

Previous posts in the series are here!

the handyman can ('cause he fixes it with love) by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) AU where Buck is a handyman who turns up to fix Eddie's blocked sink, and Eddie tries desperately to not ogle him. The most excellent fluffy silliness! 4k words, rated T

Been in the Dark Since the Day We Met by @hmslusitania I shall continue to shout my love for magic!Eddie from the rooftops, even when (or especially when?) he's not a very good witch (or is he? 👀). He's trying to teach Christopher about magic and how to control it, but to his surprise Buck shares some information about the magical world that Eddie never knew about. Part 1, and you will want to read part 2! 4.1k words, rated T

life sure can try to put love through it by wafflesofdoom (@capseycartwright) Buck wakes up after an accident at work and has lost three years' worth of memories - including that he's now married to Eddie. Navigating this new world is harsh for both him and Eddie, and there's a lot of sadness on both sides while they wait to see if Buck's memories will return. There are so many details in this fic that are fascinating to see that the fandom predicted, even if they played out slightly differently in canon! 20.3k words, rated G

Why Do All The Monsters Come Out at Night? by @princessfbi Witch!Buck who the wind whispers to, and vampire!Eddie whose coven doesn't approve of the way he wants to live his life. Follows roughly S2 events and storylines. What can I say, I'm a big sucker for magic AUs, and the elemental magic in this one really speaks to me! 41.3k words, rated M

Enjoy your week, weewoo day is approaching!

[pedroshotwifey]

Manners

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x fem!reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, Age gap, Slight authority/seniority kink (He's her boss), Slight Sir kink, Oral sex (f and m receiving), piv sex, probably more I'm forgetting about but oh well 🤷‍♀️

Summary: You make a small slip-up and Jack offers to help brush you up on your manners.

A/N: Hello lovely readers! Please keep in mind that even though I have written multiple works at this point, this one is the first one I ever published. As I begin to post some of my more recent fics, you should be able to see a difference in quality overall. I did, however, go back and make edits to this one so that it is better than it would have been if I had posted it in its original state. I hope you enjoy it, and please keep an eye out for the more recent fics I will be posting within the next week or so!

***

The sun is bright in your eyes as you attempt to blink them open for the first time this morning. You can feel the warm rays sneaking through the curtains to crawl over your blanketed form. The birds are singing a sweet song right outside your window, their song slowly stirring you awake. You sigh in contentment at the peaceful scene you woke up to.

It’s definitely one of those mornings where it will be impossible to drag yourself away from your cozy bed. Once you are able to pry your eyes open all the way, you sit up and pull the curtain back a little to admire the landscape of the small ranch you work on. 

Being able to wake up and come home to the beautiful view presented by the window beside your bed has quickly become one of your favorite things about this job. Part of your payment is living in the small one-bedroom house stationed on top of one of the few hills on the ranch. 

It's not much, but you love the cozy feeling the house gives off. It's absolutely perfect for you and you have made sure to let your boss know how appreciative you are of it. Within the six months that you have lived on the property, you have only talked to the boss a handful of times, and each time he asks you if you are still comfortable living in the cottage. 

Even though he told you that you can make any adjustments you want, he still likes to check that it is to your standard. You always tell him that you are perfectly content, and he always makes a point to remind you that you are welcome to move into one of the many rooms of his large ranch house if you ever change your mind. 

You have learned that Mr. Daniels is very generous. He seems to genuinely care about the well-being of his employees. Despite his array of offers though, you always choose to stay in the small cottage. You know that he worries about you being secluded, but in reality, you are still in view of the main house. You trust that if anything were to happen, he or another ranch hand would be there in an instant to assist you. 

It's true what you tell him; you are perfectly content with the small house, but you have to be honest with yourself. You know that you are turning him down for other reasons as well — annoying reasons that you wish would cease to exist.

About two months in, you made the realization that you are nursing a crush on your boss. By that time though, you had already settled in. You had figured—hoped—the attraction would be a phase. By now, you’ve realized it most certainly was not. In your defense, a few weeks after the realization, it seemed like the crush had passed, faded into nothing more than a tiny tug in your chest when you thought about him. That is until you had to meet up with him for a monthly check-in at least. 

You had scolded yourself and tried to ignore the bubbling feeling in your stomach as he talked to you in that syrupy southern drawl you have come to crave. You had a sinking suspicion that you didn't do a very good job of concealing the way you felt. The way the cowboy had smirked at you every now and again during the, in your opinion, much-too-long interaction suggested that he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you had brewing.

If you didn’t know any better, you would dare say that the asshole might enjoy making your face flush bright as a tomato. Sure, the man may be about twenty years your senior, but you can't deny the tension that has begun to build since then. 

He seems to have made a game of getting you flustered during meetings, and you have quickly accepted the challenge of keeping your cool as he does so. Unfortunately for you, he usually wins. 

You groan as you remember that you need to prepare yourself for the meeting taking place today. You sit up and let your feet dangle off the side of the bed as you stretch your arms into the air, attempting to ease your sore muscles. 

Letting your hands back down to rest on your lap, you glance at the clock. It reads 10:41. 

Shit

Suddenly awake, you jump out of bed and scramble over to your closet, frantically laying out a work outfit. You are supposed to be meeting Mr. Daniels at 11:00. You had set an alarm to wake you up at 9:30 so you would have time to eat breakfast and tidy up around the cottage before you had to leave. Of course, today would be the day the clock wouldn’t go off. 

It takes about five minutes to get to the main house from here, maybe two that if you run, but even then it would still be cutting it close. If there is anything you hate, it's making a bad impression, and being late is one of the best ways to do that. 

You know that Mr. Daniels probably won't mind, but you still don't want to be an inconvenience. You are the only female worker on the ranch, and even though Jack always lets you know how much he appreciates your hard work, you still want to stay on top of your responsibilities. You know deep down that you have nothing to prove, but some of the guys can be pretty rude with their unnecessarily sexist comments.

They just love to follow you around and breathe down your fucking neck. Their favorite antic has got to be making you feel like you aren’t capable of picking up bigger loads. “Can I get that for you, Princess?” they ask with stupid smirks, already knowing your answer. You have learned that the best way to deal with that is to give them a smile and kindly assure them that you got it. It’s no fun for them when you don’t feed into it, after all. 

Even so, Mr. Daniels is usually pretty quick about shutting “jokes'' about you down, but you can't help but feel like he might see some truth to them. He doesn’t of course - in fact, he constantly tells you that you are one of the best hands he has ever had working for him. 

You always soak up any praise he gives you, even though you feel like a giddy schoolgirl sometimes. You swear that man’s comments will ultimately be the death of you. 

You check the clock again as you finish tying your hair back and set your hat on your head. 

10:54. Perfect. 

After you brush your teeth, that should give you enough time to walk down to the house just in time for the meeting to start. 

***

Somehow, it ended up being 10:57 by the time you were walking out the door. As you step outside, you can see Mr. Daniels standing outside his house, glancing at his wrist. You furrow your brows as you realize that the rest of the ranch hands are nowhere to be seen. There's no way the meeting is just between the two of you, right? You couldn’t have missed a detail that detrimental… right?

Shaking your head, you start to sprint toward where your boss is standing. The guys will probably be there by the time you reach the house… hopefully. You’re not sure if you can handle Jack Daniels on your own today. It takes you about two and a half minutes for you to get to him, and—much to your chagrin—there’s not another worker in sight.

You inhale deeply as you approach him - you can already feel the butterflies in your stomach with every step you take. He looks exceptionally good today, donned in his signature black stetson. Once you are close, you plaster a smile on your face and pray silently that you made it on time. 

“Hello Mr. Daniels,” you say sweetly.

“Good morning sugar,” he says before flashing you a toothy grin. You try to ignore the names he has for you most of the time, though you secretly love the almost nonchalant affection behind them.

You feel your face flush and try to turn your head towards the ground in an attempt to hide it, but you know he saw when you notice his eyes narrow slightly out of the corner of your own. The look sends heat straight into your lower abdomen and you swallow as you look up to meet his gaze again.

“Did nobody else show up?” you ask him, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckles quietly at your question and you suddenly wish your ears would stop working. “No darlin’, I figured we could have a one-on-one meeting this time around—if that's ok with you of course?”

“Oh, um, yea of course, that's just fine Mr. Daniels.” Liar, your brain spits at you. 

***

Fortunately for your dignity, the meeting was pretty normal for the most part. Mr. Daniels asked you if you were still comfortable in your cottage, to which you—as always—replied that you love having your own place.

He told you of the tasks he wants you to perform throughout the next couple of weeks and of your expected schedule. He also pointedly reminded you to call him Jack, which you ignored and continued to refer to him in a formal fashion. You didn't need any more personal ties to this man.

After everything that needed to be said was conversed, you both said goodbye and began to part ways. 

You let out a deep breath, silently congratulating yourself for not slipping up as you turn your back to your boss. Maybe everything will be fine. 

“Oh, and honeybee?” You hear Mr. Daniels' question come from behind you and tense back up immediately. There was something about the way he said it, almost like it was coming through a smirk, that made your eyes grow wide.

You spin back around to find the cowboy standing in place with his back to you.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels?” Your voice comes out squeakier than you expect and you grimace at the sound.

“You were a minute late today, hon.”

Shit. You let your eyes flutter shut and attempt to gulp down your anxiety as he continues. Of course the bastard would point something like that out, he’s well aware of how big you are on that kind of thing.

“Now don’t worry, you ain’t in trouble, darlin’,” he says much too confidently for your liking, “but just so we can assure it won’t happen again, maybe you should swing by the house tonight so we can brush you up on your manners.”

Unable to speak, you stare at your boss’s now descending form with an open jaw. Did you hear that right? 

The asshole must know that you are still rooted to the spot he left you in because he cranes his neck to say “You’re free to go for now doll, i’ll see ya at 8:00,” he says before sending you a wink and turning back around. 

You quickly close your jaw and turn on your heel towards the barn. Your heart is racing much too quickly in your chest as you approach your first task of the day. 

***

Getting through the day was absolutely agonizing. You love your job and find most of the tasks you have to do decently easy, but the conversation from this morning has been running through your mind non-stop. 

Brush up on your manners...

You wanted to hate him for his blunt suggestion, but you realized about halfway through the day what he actually meant by it. At least, what you hope he actually meant by it. You have been pushing your excitement down all day and it has evidently been landing between your legs.

At this point, as you trek back to your house to freshen up, you can feel your core throb with every agonizing step. This man has had you on edge all day and you are frustrated to no end.

Brush up on your manners...

You'll show him. You'll show him just how sweet you can be… Or maybe you won't…

The thought of being defiant sends a wave of excitement over your entire body. What would he do then? Would he decide to punish you for your bad behavior?

You'll have to decide how you will act on the way to his house. You put on a wicked grin as you begin to rustle through your closet for some presentable clothes. What Jack didn’t realize is that he accidentally put the ball right into your court.

You almost can't believe this is actually happening. As you sit down to put some mascara and lipstick on, you pinch yourself to make sure this isn't all a dream. 

As you slip on your flowy sundress and boots, you are sure you will open your eyes any minute now. As you lock the door to your cottage, you expect to be waking up in your bed.

***

It really sinks in that what you are doing is real as you raise your fist to knock gently on your boss’s front door. Your nerves feel like they are on fire and you almost decide to turn around and forget all about it. Before you have the chance to change your mind, however, the door in front of you is being swung open to reveal the devilishly sexy grin hidden behind it.

“Hello again, sugar,” he says after you stand there for a second, “I was hoping you would take me up on my offer.”

You try to speak but find your voice caught in your throat, so you just nod and try to send him what you hope is a feasible smile. Without another word, he smiles back and moves to the side to gesture you into the house. 

Once inside, you decide to test your voice again. “Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Daniels,” you say as he shuts the door behind you, formal as ever. 

“Well of course honey,” he says in a tone much too cocky for your liking, “and look at you, already puttin’ those manners to use.” 

You flush a dark shade of crimson when you find yourself at a lack of words once again. Fortunately, Jack takes that as his cue again and moves in closer, backing you into the wall behind you. You don't stop him as he steps into your personal bubble and reaches a hand toward your face. 

He smirks as he feels you shudder when his large hand finds your cheek. You bite your lip to stop the sound that threatens to escape. His palm feels so warm against you, and you feel so tiny in comparison as you look up into his dark eyes. 

You see the mischievous twinkle in his eye as he grasps your chin more firmly to bring your face up to his just slightly. You sneak a quick glance at his plush lips that are now mere inches from your own. It would be so easy to just lean in a bit and-

“Now, sugar,” Mr. Daniels says, interrupting your thoughts, “for the purposes of tonight, you can call me sir. Understand?”

Your eyes widen slightly at his command and you try to nod your head as much as you can with his hand still gripping your chin. Yup, you were definitely right in your earlier assumption. Your knees feel weak, threatening to give out. The sensation distracts you for a moment and when you come back into focus you find Jack looking at you expectantly. 

“Let's try that again, doll,” he says as he digs his fingers into your chin ever so slightly. You swallow as you watch him tilt his chin up to look down at you. His mouth drops open into a thin smirk as he raises his eyebrows. You feel your legs buckle underneath you again and you would probably fall if not for his hand propping you up. 

“Understand?” he repeats, clearly wanting a verbal response. Likely wanting your consent so he can be sure you’re of with the way things are going. You would be damned if you weren’t.

“I-” you stop when he gives your chin a warning squeeze, it isn’t hard, but it’s enough to give you the hint

. 

“Yes sir,” you manage to get the words out. They were high-pitched and shaky, but you were surprised you were able to speak at all.

Your eyes close slowly as he lowers his head back down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, rewarding you for catching on. 

“Good girl,” you shudder and bite back a moan at his gentle praise. 

Your eyes land on his lips as you open them again. You stare for a little longer than you probably should before you meet his gaze again. You can't help it, they just look so warm and inviting. You picture them enveloping your own.

When he sees you look away from his lips, he loosens his grip once more and leans in close enough to nudge his face next to yours, almost as if he were going to nibble your ear.

“Would if be okay if I kissed you, baby?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. A shiver racks through your spine at his words combined with the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

You start to nod before you remember what he wants you to do. You want to scold yourself for giving in so easily, but you block that thought out as you feel him start to pull back. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as you stare into his deep chocolate eyes. You hate him for making you say it, but you do it anyway.

“Yes sir,” your voice is just as quiet as his, if not more.

He closes the distance before you even realize you spoke the desperate words out loud. You close your eyes and slot your lips against his. It feels like absolute euphoria as you melt into the heated kiss. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, but automatically you decide it is the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

You moan as his tongue slips past your lips, giving you a taste of what you can only describe as Jack. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and chapped and you can't help but give in completely to him. If given the option, you would stand here and kiss this man until the day you die. 

You sigh as you feel his hand release your jaw and make its way down your body to rest on your hip. Shortly after, you feel his fingers run through your hair to grasp the base of your skull, pulling you deeper into the passionate kiss. Your own hands begin to cling onto his clothes, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

Suddenly, he pulls away, his palms stationed firmly on your hips and on teh back of your neck. You look into his eyes and you can see the hunger lingering in his stare. His pupils are blown with desire and you can feel the way they must mirror your own. 

“Let me taste you?” He asks you, desperation clear in his voice as he nearly begs.

You nod feverishly in your lust-drunken state, not entirely sure what he just asked. All you know is that with the admiration this man is looking at you with, you would be a fool to deny him anything he asked for. 

You can see the way he shifts, clearly wanting to get to whatever you had just consented to. He stops though, smirking as he seemingly remembers something. 

“Try again sugar,” he tells you. You immediately know what he wants.

“Y-yes sir,” you say quickly, not sure how the words came out that fast. As soon as you say it, Jack begins to move again. You sober quickly as you watch the fierce man in front of you sink to his knees, letting his large hands run down your sides as he does so. Once settled, he looks up into your wide eyes and wets his lips. His eyes look heavenly as he beams at you with adoration.

You snap back to reality and feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you finally realize what he had asked you. Still drunk on his kiss, you had answered him before you gave yourself a chance to think about it.

“Want to see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, darlin’.”

Before you get the chance to respond, he leans forward to press a kiss over your clothed mound. He darts his tongue out to flick your clit, somehow knowing exactly where it is.

You involuntarily buck your hips to his face as your hands fly to rest on his broad shoulders. It's a new sensation—a welcome one for sure—but new nonetheless. You aren’t inexperienced, but you haven’t had many lovers, and none of them had ever been generous enough to go down on you.

“Oh f-fuck!” The expletive flies from your mouth as he repeats the action. He pulls back and you watch him grin against your thigh before pressing a sof kiss to the fabric covering it. 

You feel your dress being bunched up in one of his fists, but he doesn't raise it yet. Figuring he probably wants your permission, you look down at him and give him a shaky nod.

When he sees the confirmation, he sends you another smirk that shoots straight down to your cunt. You bite your lip as you feel your dress rise up past your panties.

It's been a while since you had any sexual encounter, and you feel exposed until you see the pure lust in Jack's eyes; how could you ever feel uncomfortable under a gaze like that?

“Fuck darlin,” he says, eyeing your lacy black panties. “You put these on just for me?”

“Y-yes sir,” you say. He seems satisfied with your response as he extends the hand that's not holding your dress up to run a finger through the wet patch between your legs.

“Oh sugar, you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” He asks you when he feels the wetness beginning to pool through the lace fabric.

“Yes sir,” you tell him truthfully. “All day.” You figure you have no shame left, might as well just tell it as it is. Though you are trying to sound confident, your voice sounds soft even in your ears.

You can tell by the way Jack's eyes glow when you admit your thoughts that he finds your nervousness arousing. 

“Alright sugar, I'll tell you what,” he says as his thumb absently traces circles on your thigh. “I think you have been such a good girl for me so far…” To your embarrassment, you whimper at his praise.

“I want you to use my real name when I have you screaming for me.”

When you don't say anything, he looks up to meet your flushed face. Your mouth is dropped open slightly at his casual suggestion and your face feels like it's on fire.

He gives you no more warning as he smirks and hooks your panties to the side before shoving a finger into your dripping hole in one swift motion. You squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the feeling of having something filling you up. You immediately want more, and you tell him as much.

He chuckles darkly at your desperation as he begins to pump his finger in and out at a painfully slow pace. 

“Remember your manners, doll,” he reminds you. You groan in frustration but comply with his request.

“Shit, please Jack, please give me more.” Your words sound rushed as they spill from your kiss-swollen lips. yup, all dignity out the window.

He approves your request by dipping another finger into your wet heat, but he does nothing about the speed in which he moves his hand. Despite the pace, you can feel the tension in your abdomen begin to build up embarrassingly quickly as he rubs against that spongy place you can never reach. 

One of your hands leaves his shoulder to tangle in his hair. You whimper at the friction you have been craving all day and try to grind down on his digits in an attempt to reach that sweet spot deep inside you again. 

You want to scream when he quickly extracts his fingers. 

“Now darlin’, you gotta be patient if you want me to reward you.” He sends you a flashy smirk as he teases your entrance with the pad of his middle finger, applying just enough pressure to make it seem like he’s going to breach you again, but he never does. You shiver at the feeling. Bastard.

“Yes sir, I'll be good,” you promise him eagerly. 

“Know you will be, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters mostly to himself as his fingers split you open once again. He sets a faster pace this time, and you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. You feel his mouth envelope your throbbing clit through your panties and you let out a whiny moan. 

“I- fuck Jack, im close,” you breathe out in pure ecstasy. At your unworded request, he adds a third digit and begins to pump his fingers at a near-brutal pace. You can feel a sheen of sweat beginning to cover your body. Just a few strokes away now…

He takes his mouth away but continues his attack with his fingers. He tilts his head up to watch your teary-eyed expression, your mouth slightly agape. He chuckles quietly at how fast he was able to find the spots that make you squirm for him.

“Now doll, here's where we work on that timing,” he starts. You barely register what he says through your haze, but you get the gist of it and furrow your brows. When he sees your confusion, he fills you in. 

“You want to come, honey?” he asks you nonchalantly. 

“Oh, yes sir,” you squeak as you feel a tear run down your cheek; you’re so close, you don’t want him to deny you again. “Yes, yes, please let me come.” your eyes flutter closed from the pure pleasure he is bringing you with just his hand.

“Okay, sweetheart, that's what I thought.” you’re not sure if you like the playfulness in his tone. 

“I'm going to do a countdown for you,” he starts. “When I reach ‘one’, you can come.” Your eyes fly open faster than they had closed. 

“Jack,” you try not to sound whiny as you protest. “Jack, I-I don't know if I can—I don't know if I can do that!” The grin that spreads onto his face is absolutely wicked—he has you right where he wants you.

“Well hon, you're just gonna have to, ain’t ya?” he tells you. “I'll have no choice but to punish you if you come too soon or too late.” Your eyes grow wide but you can't deny the curiosity that breaches your mind at what his idea of “punishment” might be. 

“I believe you can do it darlin’,” he encourages you before you have the chance to protest. You know he would stop if you asked him, but that would be the only way out—and he would be stopping completely. You are so close, like Jack said—you can do this. 

You swallow and nod down at him, signaling your agreement. By now, he has slowed down his pace drastically, and you would do anything to have his fingers abusing your cunt again. 

“Okay, let's start then,” he says through his toothy grin. “I'm gonna to go from five.” Seeing you nod again, he brings his mouth back to work at your still-covered clit.

“Five.” You keen sharply as he mouths at your clit, prodding the bundle of nerves with his skilled tongue.

“Four.” you aren't sure if you are going to have enough control to make it to one. It feels almost painful knowing that you have to wait for permission. 

“Three.” “There you go hon, so close now.”

“Two.” your breathing picks up and you can't help but let the high pitched moans barrel out as you focus on holding your release. You want to beg for his permission, but you know your best bet is to wait it out. 

“One.”

Jack sucks hard on your clit as you scream his name. Your vision goes white and you suddenly feel like you’re floating. The intense orgasm seems to last forever, you’ve never felt anything so blissful in your life. 

“There you go sugar,” you hear Jack's giddy voice coming from a faraway place. “Scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Other than the shudders that wrack your body, you are barely aware of anything else around you. It feels like you are suspended in another dimension. You can feel your juices running down your thighs and hear Jack happily slurping them up, muttering gentle praise into your sex.

“Did so good for me honey bee,” he tells you, “Right on time’.”

It seems like an hour has passed by the time you are finally able to open your eyes and look down at the man on his knees before you. It takes you a second to notice, but once your vision comes back all the way, you can see droplets of wetness make their way down Jack's face to drip off of his nose and chin. 

Holy Shit…

Your eyes widen in time with your jaw as you begin to piece together what happened. You keep your gaze on Jack while you figure it out. He looks almost as blissed out as you do with his hooded eyes and his mustache covered in your slick.

“Oh my god Jack,” you say, feeling your face turn red. “I didn't…”

The smirk on his face widens and he opens his mouth to shove his fingers inside. He closes his mouth as he suckles on them and then pulls the digits out with a wet pop. 

“Oh yes you did honey,” he says after he opens his eyes to meet yours. “And you taste just as divine as you looked while you squirted all over my hand.”

“Now let Jack finish cleanin’ you up sugar.” With that, he dips his head back down to lap at your sensitive folds. You buck your hips when you feel him graze your over-sensitive clit,

“Let's get these the rest of the way off, sweet thing,” he chuckles darkly as he slides his finger back and forth across the band of your ruined panties.

Not knowing what to say, you nod and step back for him. You start to bend down to take your shoes off before you slide your panties down, but you’re stopped as you feel him lightly tap the outside of your thigh.

Meeting your curious expression, he shakes his head slightly and shifts to one knee before tapping the one he had popped up, gesturing for you to place your foot there.

You want to swoon over him for how much of a gentleman he can be even though he was just knuckle-deep in your cunt. You shoot him a bashful smile as you comply with his silent request and gently place your foot on his raised leg.

He returns the smile before sliding your shoe off and caresses your calf while he sets it off to the side. He motions for you to switch legs and you watch as he repeats the motion with that one as well. 

Once you have both feet planted back on the ground, Jack reaches up to hook his fingers into the sides of your waistband. He slowly slides the now soaked garment down your bare legs, being careful not to leave any residue on your skin.

Once they are discarded next to your shoes, he stands back up to his full height. He gently slides both of his hands onto your face and brings you in to lock you in a bruising kiss. 

“What do you say, doll?” He asks you once he pulls back. You smile at him, proud of yourself for knowing exactly what he wants.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him bashfully. He beams at your quick learning and moves one of his hands to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “My pleasure, honey.”

It's your turn to smirk up at him as you begin to descend onto your knees. He looks down at you with a look somewhere between amusement and confusion as you settle into a comfortable position. 

“Aw sugar,” he tells you, running his fingers through your hair. “You don't have to do that.”

You put up at him in a mocking manner and stop your hands halfway to his belt buckle. “Please sir, I want to,” you tell him. You watch as his brows narrow slightly and his eyes grow darker.

“What exactly do you want, honey bee?” he asks you, though the bastard knows exactly what you mean. You decide to play along with his game anyway.

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” you say, looking up at him through your thick eyelashes. “Will you let me?” 

He continues smoothing your hair down as he slowly nods at you, giving you permission. You hear his breath catch in his throat as your hands find his buckle. 

You bite your lip as you anxiously fumble with the heavy thing. Once unclasped, you unzip his pants and tug them down just enough to see the large bulge in his boxers. He smirks as he notices your eyes widen at the size of it.

“You can do it, honey,” he rests his free hand back on your cheek as he assures you. You lean into his touch and gently take his thumb into your mouth, suckling lightly. His skin tastes heavenly and you hum in anticipation of how good his cock must be.

Maintaining eye contact, you reach out and give him a small squeeze through his boxers. He groans at the touch and you smirk as you reach into his waistband and tug his hardened dick out. 

You give him a couple of jerks and watch the way his face twists with pleasure before you look down. He chuckles when he hears you gasp as your gaze trails downwards.

Holy shit.

He's fucking huge. Sure he's got length, but his girth is what has your eyes growing wide. You swallow as you look back into his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” He asks, amusement clear in his voice. You roll your eyes as you give him another short tug. You let your thumb run over his tip, spreading precum over the head. 

You smirk as he shudders above you. You lean forward to dart your tongue out over his slit, tasting the saltiness of it. He lets out a strained groan at the contact. “Like what you feel?” You ask him innocently. You look up to meet his now blazing stare.

“Now doll,” he pauses as he rubs your cheek. “That's one dangerous game you just started,” he says slowly. You swallow at his menacing tone.

“And I hope you are prepared to play it.”

With that, he grasps your chin, making your mouth fall open as he brings your face toward his heavy cock. He watches your expression to make sure you don't want to stop before he guides his stiff length into your mouth.

He wastes no time as he shoves himself all the way down your throat, not giving you the chance to take him slowly. Your nose nuzzles into the dark curls at the base of his cock as you try not to choke. 

He doesn't move yet, allowing you to get used to the feeling. You try not to gag as you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. You close them, letting the liquid stream down your cheeks as you swallow, trying to adjust yourself.

“Ah fu-“ Jack stutters as he feels your throat convulse around his length. “There you go s-sugar, just like that.”

You bathe in the way the blissed-out way Jack's eyelids start to droop and his mouth falls open the tiniest bit as you start to move your head back and forth. A strangled groan spills from his lips when you move back and circle your tongue around his tip before sliding back down to the base.

You feel him set his hand on your head, not pushing or pulling you in any way, just resting it there. There's a glint in your eyes as you look up at him and put your hand on top of his, pushing lightly.

Jack's eyes widen as he realizes what you are insinuating, but you can see the desire behind his expression. 

“Shit- I-“ he fumbles over his words, "you sure sweetheart? I ain’t gonna be gentle.” You nod up at him as much as you can and push his hand in encouragement again.

“Alright darlin’,” he stares down at you with adoration, “tap my thigh if you need me to slow down.”

You can tell he has been trying to hold himself back, and you feel your wetness start to drip down your thighs as his face relaxes. He takes over your movements as he presses on the back of your head experimentally.

You give him complete control and submit to his request, putting your tongue out flat as he pushes you down his thick length. You moan out in pleasure at the thought of him having complete control and his cock twitches at the sound.

His actions start slow, but gradually build up as he begins to chase his high. He whispers praise to you in between moans as he fucks your mouth.

As you watch him, you think that the expression he makes when he is consumed with pleasure might be the best thing you have ever seen—better than the view from your cottage window. You hum around him, sending vibrations through his whole body.

“Oh, fuck!” You can feel yourself growing wetter the more Jack struggles to keep his composure. “S-Shit sugar, I'm gonna need t’ stop if you want me to be able to take care of you right.”

You whimper at the thought of his cock slamming in and out of your pussy and you feel more slick dripping down your legs. You squeeze your thighs shut, trying to get some friction to relieve the ache on your throbbing clit.

Knowing he's close, Jack pulls you off of him with a growl. He grins as he hears you whine at the loss. 

“Now darlin’,” he starts. “There will be plenty of chances to do that again, for now though,” you watch as his eyes somehow grow darker still. “I want to feel that tight cunt around my cock.”

You can't stop the moan that escapes from your lips upon hearing his dirty words. You must be dripping onto the floor at this point, but you don't care. All you care about right now is Jack staying true to his word.

Hearing your desperate moan ignites something feral in him, and before you even realize what he was doing, you are slung over his shoulder, ass in the air, as he strides into his bedroom.

He flings you on the bed as soon as he enters the threshold and immediately goes to work pulling off his boots. You sit there stunned as he starts fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his perfectly tanned skin.

He glances up at you through his haze to see your shocked expression, and you watch as a lopsided smirk overtakes his features.

“You gonna strip or what, honey?” He asks you in a teasing tone as he continues undressing.

You roll your eyes and grin as you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks. As he looks back down to concentrate on the last few buttons on his shirt and you take that as a cue to tug your dress off. 

Left in only your bra, you take that off too as Jack is tugging off his pants. Donned in only his boxers, he looks back at you and you watch his eyes rake over your naked form. 

His smile falters and you think for a second that you did something wrong. 

“You are so damn beautiful darlin’,” he says, easing your worried thoughts. You smile 

sheepishly as he starts to walk towards the bed.

He leans over the side, wedging one of his knees between your own as he leaves a trail of delicate kisses up the column of your throat. You tilt your head up to allow his access and shiver as he brushes along your pulse point.

“Jack,” you say in a whiny tone, not really sure what you're asking him for. He seems to know better than you do though, because he lifts his lips up to yours as he slides a hand down between your bodies. 

You moan into his mouth as he uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit. The kiss turns sloppy and you bring your arms up to circle around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He moves the fingers from your clit to tease at your sopping cunt. He slides them in one at a time and you keen underneath him, making his cock twitch in his boxers. His erection is almost painful now, but he wants to get you ready for him before he gives in to his urges.

You feel yourself climbing closer to the edge as Jack adds a third finger and begins to work at your swollen bud with his thumb. He can feel you writhing below him and he smiles into your mouth, proud of the way your body reacts to his touch.

“Jack, im gonna-“  You don’t get to finish the warning as you feel him flick his thumb over your clit, pushing you over the edge. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as you mewl into Jack's lips. 

Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself clench around Jack's fingers, causing a guttural groan to escape from him. He pumps his fingers in and out, easing you through your high.

As you still, you lay your head down fully on the mattress and look into Jack's eyes. You feel like a schoolgirl as you smile lopsidedly at him, giving you an eager grin in return. 

“You ready, darlin’?” he asks. You take a deep breath and nod at him. He leans down to plant small kisses on your forehead and on the tip of your nose as he pushes himself off of the bed to shed his boxers. 

You scootch back a little, giving him more room as he climbs back up. Your stomach flips as you look into his eyes, feeling one of his hands come up to rest next to your head. 

He dips down for another kiss and you feel the head of his cock find its way to your entrance. You suck in a breath as he begins to slowly push himself into your dripping heat. 

“Oh- fuck baby girl,” he groans as he pushes deeper. You feel the hand near your head clench the sheets beside you as he sheaths himself to the hilt. His size takes your breath away and you are grateful when he pauses to let you adjust.

The stretch pinches, making you scrunch your eyes shut. When you open them again, you find Jack looking at you, concern written on his face. 

He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head, silently asking if you are okay to continue. You know that he would stop in a heartbeat if you wanted to, and the thought immediately makes you more comfortable. 

It warms your heart to think about how much of a gentleman Jack really is underneath that tough exterior, and how lucky you are to be able to experience this side of him.

“Start moving,” you tell him after the pain begins to dull. You watch his features relax as he pulls back out halfway before gliding back in. You appreciate how gentle he's being, at least until you can get used to the feeling of being stuffed so full.

“Your wish is my command, sweet pea,” he tells you, sending you a wink. The pain from earlier quickly turns to pleasure as Jack continues his gentle movements. You moan loudly as he hits something devastating inside you, spurring him on.

“Ah- fuck, Jack!” You scream his name as he begins to speed his movements up. You can feel every vein and ridge sliding on the walls of your soaked cunt. Already, tension begins building in your belly as he starts to ruthlessly pump his cock in and out of you.

The room is filled with both of your moans combined with the lewd squelching noises coming from where your bodies connect. It sounds like pure ecstasy. You can hear Jack's breath growing heavier with each thrust.

You decide as he lets out a whine that there is nothing sweeter than the sounds Jack Daniels makes when he's buried deep inside of you. His noises fuel you and you can hear your moans growing breathier as he pulls you closer to the edge.

You watch a bead of sweat slip down the side of Jack's forehead as he draws back until only the head of his cock is breaking you open. Before you get the chance to figure out what he's doing, he slams himself back into you.

You try to scream but find that all the breath had been knocked out of you with the force of his thrust. Tears of pleasure brim your eyes as he repeats his action, faster this time. 

Your arms slip under his own and you claw at his back as you get closer to release. You let out a moan as Jack grabs your thigh and throws one of your legs over his waist, allowing him to hit depths you didn't even think possible.

“Such a -fuck- such a sweet damn pussy d-darlin’,” Jack praises. You almost come right then and there.

“S-so good, Jack,” you say through a whimper as he continues his brutal pace. “Fuck!” You scream when he slams into a sweet spot. 

“M’ gon- gonna come, Jack,'' you tell him. He smirks and snakes a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. There's no way you're going to last between the new position and the assult on your sensitive bud.

“Go ahead darlin’,” He tells you as he lowers his head to slot his lips between your own, locking you into a messy kiss. “Let go for me.” 

That's all it takes for you to fall apart underneath him. Your eyes roll back and you feel your legs turn to jello as you come on Jack's cock. He continues to whisper sweet praise into your ear as he works you through your climax.

You feel his movements grow sloppy and uncoordinated as you come down from your high. 

“S-Shit, honey,” Jack gasps, “not gonna last.”

He gives about another half dozen thrusts before he's asking you “Where?”.

You don't answer him, and instead lift your other leg to wrap around his waist, bringing him into you. You whimper at the thought of filling you up and it pushes him over the edge. He stills and you feel the gush of warm seed spread throughout your cunt. 

The moan he lets out is absolutely feral as he releases inside of you, making your toes curl. You squeeze around him, milking rope after rope of cum from his cock. You stare into each other’s eyes as you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him down to you again. 

You bring your lips against his, closing your eyes as you both share the gentlest and most intimate kiss of the night. He lowers his body to lay on top of yours, being careful not to put all of his weight on you as he pulls away from the kiss to position his head next to your ear. 

“Fuckin’ perfect darlin’,” he says gently. “Thank you.” 

You smile at the ceiling as you wrap your arms tight around him, holding him close. You both lay there for a few minutes as your bodies begin to relax, you slotting your fingers through his hair, and him whispering sweet praises into your ear. 

He leans up to brush his lips against yours one more time before grunting and pulling out of you. You grimace first at the loss and then at the feeling of your combined release leaking out of your worn cunt. Your attention is dragged away from the feeling when you hear Jack flick the bathroom light on. 

He is only gone for a second before he returns with a warm cloth, using it to swipe along your folds, cleaning you up. You wince as the fabric runs along your sensitive clit. “Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a quiet apology. You squint at him but when you make eye contact you can't help but giggle too. 

Smiling, Jack gets back up to dispose of the cloth before he comes back to bed and lays down beside you, pulling you into him so you can set one of your legs over his and place your head on his chest. You hum in delight as he starts to pepper feather light kisses into your hair. 

“Not so bad for an old man,” you tease him. You feel him smile against your hair as he breathes in your sweet scent.

“Hey now,” he says in the same teasing tone, “it's starting to sound like you didn't learn anything from your lesson.”

You laugh as you roll yourself over to straddle his hips. 

“Well,” you say as you look into his hooded eyes, “I've always said I learn my lessons better the second time around.” He smirks at you and grabs your hips, bearing you down to his already half-hard cock and you whimper quietly. 

“That can be arranged, sugar,” he tells you as he scoots back against the headboard. “This time we’ll see how well you can follow instructions.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Title: Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader (Sunshine)

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: You lived your life on a schedule. Everything is planned out from sunrise to sunset. But what happens when you go out on a limb and out of your comfort zone? Will it have dire consequences?

Chapter Summary: Lloyd draws you a bath and prepares brunch.

Warnings: dacryphilia, fingering (f receiving), gun, implied/referenced stalking, oral sex (m receiving)

A/N: I barely edited this one. If you catch anything, tell me, please! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Lowering your restrained form, Lloyd’s upper body strength is on full display. As your back is finally flush with the ground, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You close your eyes and relax your breathing as you feel Lloyd’s hands roaming over your body before beginning the meticulous work of untying knots and working rope around your sensitive flesh.

As each limb is freed from confinement, you can feel the blood rushing back through your veins. You stretch out each muscle from your thighs to your toes, then again from your biceps to your fingers. Lloyd stands up to tie up the long lengths of rope while you sit up and finally get a good look at the state you are in.

You trace along the rope burns on your body. Trailing down to a purpling bite mark and a swelling “LH” on your inner thigh. You keep your face neutral as you examine your war wounds, careful that Lloyd may be watching. 

Speak of the Devil as he shall appear.

Lloyd crouches next to you, running a hand over yours before looking down at his work. “I bet that hurts like a bitch. But, it is hot to see my initials taking up space on this beautiful skin of yours. Come on, Sunshine,” His arms scoop under your knees and behind your back, standing up to his full height, “What say we get you fed and watered, huh?”

You didn’t like how small you felt in his arms. Too small, too close for comfort. “Sir, I…I can walk. You don’t have to carry me–” 

“I know, Sunshine. But if you think I’m gonna trust you to walk on your own, you’re dreaming,” He walks toward the steps and begins the climb, “First off, I don’t trust you not to run off just yet, forgive me. And secondly, I don’t want your blood getting everywhere.” As he gets to the top of the steps, you can see brightness coming from under the door. He turns the knob and the bright mid-morning sun makes you cover your eyes.

How long had you been here? Where is…here?

You are being put down on your feet, the plush rug is soft underneath your toes as you look around the lush bathroom. You weren’t expecting such a pretty display after being in that basement, but here you are as Lloyd turns on the water on the vintage claw-foot tub. He tests the water temperature and adds a generous amount of bubble bath from a bottle you recognize.

“Is that African black soap? I use that…at home…” Your words die as you realize the shelf is full of the same brands of toiletries you use at home. Shea Moisture shampoo and conditioner, Native Coconut and Vanilla body wash, Venus razors. The only way he could know what you use is–

–if he’d been inside your apartment.

If you freak out, he will freak out. Stay calm, and he’ll stay calm.

“Yeah, I know everything about you, Sunshine. Come on, get in the tub,” He holds out a hand and you take it and step slowly into the relaxing bubble-filled bath water, “How is it? Too hot? Not hot enough?”

“Sir…,” You trail off, sinking back into the soothing bath, “It’s so perfect. My entire body needed this.” Closing your eyes, you don’t notice the moan that escapes you as your muscles loosen across your body.

“Watch it, Sunshine, or I might get in with you making sounds like that,” He stood above you, reaching for the body wash and a fluffy bath sponge, before grabbing a stool and sitting on the side of the big tub. He shoves the scrubber under the water to soften it, then pours a generous amount of body wash onto its surface. 

Massaging in the gel, he pulls your left leg out of the water and begins to bathe you. Taking care to get every inch of skin he can reach, he moves to your left arm and then the right side of your body. He’s most attentive with your right thigh with the bite mark and initials. For a second, it looks like he wanted to spend more time fingering where the warm water opened your cut but he decides against it.

He slowly washes your back and neck, reaching around the front to cup your breasts. Dipping his hand under the water, his nimble fingers find your clit. Your swollen ignored button finally getting attention perks you up. Your hands go to the sides of the tub and water splashes onto the floor. 

Lloyd moves to kneel at the edge of the tub, the hem of his sleeve getting wet as his arm sinks further into the water. For someone so immaculate, he didn’t seem to mind his shirt getting soapy. He seems to only give a shit about getting you off at this particular moment.

“Relax, Sunshine. Just focus on coming for me,” Quickening his pace on your puffy nub, he groans as unshed tears appear at the corner of your eyes, “You gonna cry for me, Sunshine? Be a good girl and let those tears fall.” 

His other hand, suddenly at your neck, pulls you forward into his personal space. Looking into his bright blue eyes, the sliver of control over your body that you once had is now floating off into space. 

Your breathing picks up and fat tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm takes you over. You want to lay back but the hand around your throat pulls you even closer. Your moans of ecstasy are swallowed as Lloyd’s lips slot with yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, unsure if you wanted to press into him or push him back.

As your hands move from his shoulders to his neck, you realize that you want him so much closer. Your orgasm settles as he breaks the kiss, your foreheads touching as you both catch your breath. Your brain is still foggy when you speak.

“Sir? What was…that for?”

He just pulls back and smiles at you, but it wasn’t his normal asshole smile. It was almost…sincere?

“Come on, you must be starving. Think you can stand?” You nod and he helps you up, rinsing off what soap clings to your skin. As you step out of the tub, Lloyd grabs a fluffy white towel and dries you off. As he gets to your right thigh, he takes great care in dabbing the towel on the “LH”.

You watch as he lifts your leg and puts your foot on the stool he was sitting on. He moves to the medicine cabinet and comes back with a first-aid kit. He grabs a tube of what you assume is antiseptic cream and spreads it over the lines of his initials. When you wince at the stinging, Lloyd smiles and bends down to blow on the skin. And that feels so good.

This means he knew it would sting and he could have let you be in pain, but he didn’t. Which is…nice of him?

He applies a couple of gauze pads across the lettering and uses the bandage tape to hold it in place. He packs away the first-aid kit and comes back to stand in front of your nude body. He puts a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to look into your eyes.

“Sunshine, as much as I love looking at your tits and pussy, I don’t want my men to see it and get…distracted,” He grabs your hand, leading you into the attached master bedroom’s massive walk-in closet, and motions for you to sit on the bench in the center of the room. He walks over to a portion of the closet with obviously feminine clothing and you watch as he pulls out a long simple yellow silk dress with a slit up the right side, “I’d like you to put this on. Should fit perfectly.” He hands you the dress and he walks around you back to the bedroom.

Just like that, he left you alone to dress, as if he hadn’t seen every part of you already. You stand and pull the hanger off the dress and put it back on the clothes rail. Touching the dress, you realize it’s real silk, and you don’t recognize the name of the designer. Putting it over your head, you pull the material down your body and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Fit perfectly? No. This dress fit like a glove. As if it was tailored specifically for you. You push down the thoughts of how and when your measurements were taken and brush it off as just a lucky coincidence. You take one last look and then walk into the bedroom.

Lloyd sits at the foot of the bed and looks over when you clear your throat. By the facial expression, he thinks you look pretty good. By the sound that escapes the back of his throat, he thinks you look phenomenal. But it’s the words that come out of his mouth that cement what he really thinks of you.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” He gets up from the bed and meets you, “You are perfection.”

You can’t stop the genuine smile that appears on your face. It’d been so long since someone complimented you. “Th-thank you, Sir. I love my gift.”

“Oh, Sunshine, this isn’t your gift. You’ll get that later. As long as you’re a good girl, that is. Can you be a good girl for me?”

If this designer dress wasn’t the gift then what was it? You shook the thought out of your head to answer Lloyd.

“Yes, Sir. I can be a good girl.” 

Taking your hand, Lloyd leads you out of the bedroom and through a long hallway to the kitchen. Your feet are cold on the tile floor and you are ushered into a seat at the island counter. Just after you notice the time blinking on the oven, 10:19, you feel a presence behind you. Turning around, you see a tall, stocky man holding a very big gun. You can tell he can handle himself and you can see his finger is near the trigger. You slowly turn back around when you hear Lloyd speaking.

“Don’t worry about Tiny, Sunshine. He’s just here to make sure you don’t go running off while I have my back turned. You understand. Anyway, what do you want on your omelet?” There it was, the asshole smile. It was back.

For a moment, you were upset. But then, you thought about it. You’d been alone with him most of the morning and he had been in a calmer mood. Around his men, he had to appear to be the Boss. The asshole smile was just a front, hiding the genuine smile you caused.

“Peppers and onions, please Sir.” You answered carefully, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. You decide to keep them on the counter, lacing your fingers together.

“Coming right up.” Lloyd turns around and gets to work on cutting the vegetables, cracking and whipping the eggs, then combining the ingredients to pour into the pan. The smell of the omelet cooking causes your mouth to water, even though you weren’t all that hungry. 

Once the food is plated, Lloyd sits it in front of you. Your eyes light up and you go to take a bite but you don’t have cutlery. Looking up to get Lloyd’s attention, you notice that he is holding a fork and knife in his hands. But he’s not giving them to you. He’s bringing them around the counter and sitting next to you on a stool and pulling the plate closer to himself.

“You didn’t think I was going to give you a knife, did you?” He begins to cut off a bite of omelet and blows on it before holding it out to you, “Come on, eat up Sunshine.”

You debate putting up a fight, but instead, open your mouth and accept the bite of food. Once it hits your palate, you’re surprised that it’s so tasty. A funny thought hits you and you snicker to yourself.

“What’s so funny, Sunshine?” His face is calm, but you know it’s only a matter of what words you use that will make him sway into smiling or scowling.

“I was just thinking if you didn’t want to be…whatever it is that you are, you could always go to culinary school and be a world-class chef.” You smile at him and you see a glimmer of the man from this morning in his eyes.

He only squints before cutting another piece and feeding you. Once you take the offered bite, he studies as you close your eyes and savor the flavors within. Opening your eyes, you notice him watching you. You slowly dart out your tongue to lick your lips and witness as his jaw does ‘the thing’. Biting your bottom lip, you look up into his eyes.

Nothing but fire and desire in those bright blue peepers. He pushes away the plate and grabs your hand, walking before you even climbed down from the stool. He pulls you through the doors of the kitchen that open into a courtyard area with a big fountain. You don’t even get time to look around as you are coming back inside the house on the other side.

You enter what looks to be Lloyd’s office. He lets go of your hand and walks behind the big wooden desk in the center of the room. While he goes about his business, you look around the room at various knickknacks scattered on bookshelves and end tables.

You pick up a ceramic kitten with its tail in the air. It was a dead ringer for the one you had lost weeks ago. Putting it down, you notice a rhinestone hair clip on the corner of the desk. You would know this hair clip anywhere because it’s one-of-a-kind. You got it at the flea market from an old woman who handmade them. But you remembered picking out the iridescent rhinestones because you like the extra shimmer they gave.

You held the hair clip in your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see any more of your lost items in this room. And you knew that you would see more if your eyes were open. A hand at the small of your back has you going rigid in an instant.

“Sunshine, I have your gift,” He smoothes his hand over the curve of your backside and you yelp at the smack he delivers when you don’t turn around, “You really gonna make me ask you twice?”

You turn around, eyes downcast. Lloyd puts a hand under your chin, gripping you tight with his thumb and forefinger, and jerks your head up.

“Are you seriously this upset that I took a fucking hair clip?”

“It’s not the hair clip, Sir. I just, I thought we had a…moment. But since then, you’ve been nothing but mean to me. And I know you have to be a certain way around your men but I–”

You’re cut off when Lloyd’s mouth attacks yours. He sucks on your bottom lip, nibbling ever so slightly, eliciting whimpers from you. Lloyd licks into your mouth, tickling your nose with his mustache. When your moan turns into a giggle, you pull away to try and stifle it. But Lloyd feels you pull away and growls before conquering your mouth again and biting at your bottom lip just to the point of pain then stops and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Nothing but mean to you, huh?” His thumb glides over your bottom lip, your tongue snaking out to taste it, “Look at you, you can’t get enough of me even after I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Sir…you’re all I have.” You try and blink away the unshed tears in your eyes but they have a mind of their own and trickly slowly down your cheeks.

“I know,” Lloyd uses the back of his knuckles to wipe away your tears and puts on a small smile, “Let me give you your gift.” He pulls away and picks up a wide flat jewelry box, opening it to reveal a gold choker that read ‘Sunshine’ in pretty writing.

“It’s…beautiful, Sir. Can I put it on?”

Instead of answering, Lloyd takes the choker out of the box, putting it around your neck when you turn around, and securing it with a hex key. He puts his hand on your hip, turning you back around so he can look at you wearing his collar, so to speak.

“As long as you wear this, you’re mine. You won’t be able to take it off without the key. And I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes, past the hunger and the urge to rip your dress off and take you over whatever surface he sees fit.

“What would make you take it off?” Your tone held fear, even if you did get all the words out.

“Well, if you disobey me, I’ll just punish you. But if I get the feeling that you’re against me in any way, I’ll not only take the choker off, but I’ll kill you too. That answer your question?” A different kind of fire brewed in his eyes then, and you didn’t want to push him further.

“I understand, Sir. I’m yours. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” Instantly, you feel like you’re lying to his face. But when he smiles down at you, you smile back. You have no intention of non-compliance.

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you show me how grateful you are for my gift, Sunshine?” You don’t have to be told twice. You’re kneeling before he even finishes the sentence. 

His hands on your face as he cums down your throat scream romanticism and ownership all in one. When he pulls you up, he slides a hand into the slit in your dress and fingers his initials on your thigh.

“Mine.” He says as his other hand slides around your throat.

“Yours, Sir.” 

Maybe one day, you’ll reconcile the double-edged sword of being his. But for now, you can just relax and breathe in his Earthy scent while he claims you.

Part III

A/N: Good grief, this chapter took me so long to finish. Hope you enjoyed it!!! I think I still have more in me to give to this fic.

**Tag List**

@motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,210

Rating: M. This one is a LOT of plot, but there's some violence / weaponry / language in it

Summary: Flying with Frankie is everything you hoped it would be - and so much more.

But the longer you're in Tampa, the more you begin to question what you're doing ... and what you're not telling him.

Confirmation on your reason for choosing Tampa comes at a cost.

Author’s note:

There was a very long delay, but lucky for you, I've got 2 more full chapters written after this ... they just need some editing, so I am well ahead of where I want to be with this one. I promise this chapter will have a follow-up VERY soon.

If you have any questions or comments or just want to talk about Frankie, please feel free to reach out. I'm SO INTERESTED in any theories you may have about where this is going, too.

... Sorry about the cliffhanger.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

He made you watch a short video presentation about helicopter safety before you stepped out onto the tarmac. 

But instead of being stock footage, it was Frankie himself going over the parts of the aircraft, and Pope demonstrating the things he was saying while someone - you assumed one of the Miller brothers - filmed with an only slightly shaky hand. 

You bit back a laugh when you realized what you were watching, bending an elbow and leaning forward to look at the TV screen, chin resting on your palm. I can’t believe this. “You’re going to miss something if you laugh.” Frankie paused the video and murmured the words from where he was standing, leaning against his desk with both arms crossed over his chest and the remote held in one hand. “And then I -”

“Frankie, how do you expect anyone to pay attention to anything when the two of you are explaining it?” Glancing over at him, you scoffed. “Two of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in my life explaining how not to trip over the skids and that I can’t vault myself into the helicopter by holding onto the door? I -”

“Well you retained that information, so it must have worked.” He raised a brow and then pointed back at the TV with one finger of the remote hand. “Now pay attention to this next part, it’s important. Also, it took us like five takes to get it right because we were both laughing so hard.” 

The video started playing again and you watched Frankie demonstrating the harness checks, showing off just how securely passengers were fastened into the seats. Pope could probably strap himself in in his sleep. That was likely why they’d been laughing, but in an attempt to follow Frankie’s instructions, you kept quiet and focused on the screen, eyes on the way that even though you could tell it was awkward for him to be on camera, Frankie’s enthusiasm for flying shone though with every safety rule he explained. 

When the screen went dark, you were quiet for a few seconds and then turned your attention back to the man, grinning. “If you ever decide you don’t want to be a pilot, Frankie, I’m pretty sure that you’ve got a future in -”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, standing up straight and setting the remote down. He’s embarrassed but I can tell he likes it, too. “Beats havin’ to give that same talk four times a day. Cuts down on wait time before we can take off, too.” He pointed. “Usually I have a guy out there getting things ready so all we’ve gotta do is walk out and get in. But today, it’s just me.” 

“Why?” You stood, too, watching as he gestured for you to follow him toward a small set of lockers. “Won’t you need someone to -” He opened one of the lockers and you slipped your bag off from over your shoulder, sticking it inside. “To help get us off the ground and all that?” He shook his head and when you stepped back, spun the dial of the combination lock to secure it. 

“We’ll still have ATC. That’s all I need.” He put his hand on your shoulder and when you met his eyes, Frankie winked at you. “We’re good. I promise.” You trusted him, and so when you stepped outside and he locked the door behind you, you didn’t ask any questions. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” Grinning, you made your way toward the waiting helicopter - both doors open but firmly attached - Frankie directly next to you. The walk was short, and when you stopped next to the open passenger door, you felt his hand on your back, guiding you forward. “Just get in?”

“Yep.” He pushed, clearing his throat. “Go ahead and strap yourself into the front seat and then I’ll give it a once over.” You were acutely aware of his eyes on you while you settled, pulling your phone from your back pocket and reaching over to set it on Frankie’s side while you buckled in. 

You concentrated on what you were doing, wanting to impress him - and once you had all three straps fastened, you looked over, raising a brow. “Go for it, Morales. Tell me how I -” He moved while you were still speaking, stepping closer to you and reaching out with both hands. 

He was focused on what he was doing, too, but you were focused on him - the way his fingers deftly checked the straps and buckles, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips, the movement of his eyes as he assessed your status and safety. But he stayed quiet, even when he tugged on a strap to tighten it over your chest, and especially when his hands moved to your waist, fingers dipping beneath the harness to ensure it wasn’t too tight. 

“You did good.” He finally finished, raising his head to meet your eyes. “Not too loose, not too tight.” Your smile broadened at his praise, lips parting as you prepared to speak, but he didn’t let you. “I’m 80% positive you won’t fall out.” 

The smile turned into a scowl, one hand rising to shove him away, but Frankie caught that hand, fingers curling around yours and squeezing. Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted that hand toward his lips, but before he could kiss them, he froze, his eyes going wide. He let you go so quickly it was like you’d burned him, Frankie shaking his head back and forth as he stepped backwards, his fingers closing around the door handle and pushing it shut. I hope he didn’t see how disappointed I am that he stopped.

He disappeared moments later, walking around the back of the helicopter, and you realized he was taking a few extra seconds to compose himself. Shit. He didn’t need to stop. He … You heard him swear, though the sound was muffled, and when the man appeared by the other door, you saw resolve in his eyes. “I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t professional, and I -” Oh, Frankie. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” Shrugging your shoulders, you pointed. “Can you hand me my phone, though? I don’t want you to sit on it.” He looked relieved as he did what you asked, passing you the phone - which you tucked between your knees - before taking his seat and reaching for his own harness straps. 

He was quick with them, the muscles in his arms flexing and once again capturing your attention. But you were unprepared for him to turn his head toward you, tongue running along his lower lip before he spoke up. “Sunglasses?” Shit, I knew I forgot something in my car. 

“They’re in my glovebox.” You sighed. “Whoops.” He grinned, reaching down and unzipping a pouch between the seats. “I’ll be alright, Frankie, I -”

“You’ll need ‘em. Trust me.” Frankie nodded, holding out a pair of aviators to you - black lenses with gold frames. You took them from him and slipped them on, turning your head to the side and watching him put on a second pair. “You look better in those than I ever did.” So he’s still flirting, but … “And then you’ll need to put these on, too.” Frankie reached for one of the headsets near the console, passing it to you. “Otherwise we won’t be able to talk while we’re in the air.” He reached for his set then, his gaze breaking away from yours. 

Settling them over your ears, everything was muffled, but only moments later, after he started flipping switches and pushing buttons, you heard Frankie’s voice again, talking to what you assumed was the airport tower and beginning preflight communication. Getting comfortable, you leaned back in your chair and waited, your excitement building. 

The almost-knuckle kiss had been a blip on the day, but Frankie seemed to have recovered as he settled into a routine that he’d done countless times before, his confidence filling the small space  that you were sharing. 

“You ready?” He looked over, the man’s smile infectious. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Ready.” You held up your phone. “Can I take a picture of y -”

“I’ll take one in the air for you.” He nodded, and though his eyes were hidden behind tinted lenses of his own, you knew that the corners of his eyes were crinkled. Wish I could see that. “Alright, here we go.” 

There were a few seconds of shakiness as you rose off of the ground, the whirring of the blades above your head thrumming through the helicopter. Things evened out as you gained altitude, everything beneath you growing smaller except for the expanse of water, the surface of it glittering in late afternoon sunlight. “It’s gorgeous, Frankie. You leaned forward as much as you could with your restraints, eyes on the view in front of you, but you were speechless. 

You’d been on aerial tours before, but you hadn’t done it over water, making the experience entirely new for you. “It is.” He nodded, the motion visible in your peripheral vision. “We’ll head north so you can see the skyline and a couple of the parks and then circle back around west to the Bay.” 

You agreed, turning you camera on, and pointing it toward the windshield. For the next few minutes, you focused on what you could see - the buildings growing larger and closer, the scenery whipping by beneath you, and Frankie’s hands on the control stick and collective. He was in full control, and you were in awe of it, managing to sneak in a couple of pictures of him with the others you took. “On the right’s Lower Hillsborough, and then on the left, the other side of the highway?” He gestured with one finger, jutting his chin out. “Cypress Creek.” 

As you approached, you felt your heart sink. They’re both huge. I’ll never be able to narrow it down enough. It was beautiful though, the greenery stretching out almost as far as you could see. “I didn’t realize they were connected.”

“Yep.” He nodded, glancing over at you. “And there’s a campground at Hillsborough where Benny’s buddy does the tours from.” He pointed. “Starts up north, and comes down back toward where we are.” Good to know. You made a note in your app and then set your phone down, keeping your eyes forward. “It’s a lot of fun. I think you’ll like it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” You paused, thinking. “Since it’s Benny’s buddy, does that mean he’d be going with me?” 

“If you want.” Frankie looked over, shrugging. “I already told you, we’re all more than happy to keep you company.” What if I wanted it to be you that kept me company? “Gonna swing back around now, alright?” 

You agreed, shifting in your seat, and for the next few minutes you watched the sprawl of Tampa’s suburbs pass beneath you, the edge of the Bay looming in the distance. That attention turned to Frankie, though, when you noticed that the sunlight was changing, brightness dimming slightly. Is it already… “Frankie, did you time this so that…” 

“Maybe.” He smiled then - a wide one that lifted his cheeks, the man’s dimple on full display. “Definitely.” 

“I…” You didn’t know what to say, so you kept quiet, watching as you got closer to the Bay and the sun setting on the horizon. This is why I needed sunglasses. Lifting one hand, you bit down on your knuckle, phone forgotten as you eyed the sky’s changing colors. He stayed quiet, too, but your eyes drifted from the windshield to Frankie after a few minutes, the man silhouetted in light, his profile defined. 

Your breath caught again, and as your lips pressed together to keep from letting out a gasp, you nodded twice. He did this for me and yet he stopped himself earlier. It makes no sense. You understood that he could simply write off the sunset flight as wanting to promote the business and give you a good flight for your first one, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. 

“Hope you don’t mind we’ll be in the air for a little longer than you thought.” He looked over at you, his smile soft. “Figured you’d like to see the Gulf from a different viewpoint.” Your jaw dropped, Frankie’s smile growing. “And sunset’s the best time to do it.” 

When the Gulf came into view a minute or so later, you let out a surprised “oh!”, eyes widening. “Frankie it’s… wow.” He nodded, continuing to fly straight out and over the water, the waves there a little larger than the others you’d seen earlier. All you could see were water and sky, and in that moment, you understood why Frankie loved flying so much. If this is what he can see here, I can only imagine what he’s gotten to see in other places. “Thank you, Francisco.” You spoke quietly, hoping that he could hear you. “This is …”

You took a few pictures, but didn’t even know if they were in focus or not, and then switched to a video, panning across the interior of the helicopter and making sure to get him in there, too. He made a wide turn while you filmed, putting your side of the helicopter toward the sunset, and then, for the first time, he took one hand off the control, pointing at you. “Lemme have that.” 

You switched to the camera and then handed it to him, Frankie leaning in and you doing the same, the man’s thumb flipping the camera so that your faces appeared on the screen. He took a few - both of your smiles wide - and then handed the camera back, returning his hand to its previous position. “Hey, Frankie, look at me.” 

You took one from your side, the lighting much different, and then put the phone down again, deciding that you were just going to enjoy the remainder of the flight. I can’t believe he did this. As the sun continued to set, you glanced down, heart thumping. All he can do is tell me to stop, right? You reached over, settling your hand on Frankie’s arm and curling your fingers around it. 

He didn’t move. You felt his muscles tense - and then he relaxed, his shaky exhale and a hum of approval audible through the headphones. Neither of you spoke after that, and you focused on what you could see through the windows - shades of blue and pink and orange in the sly blending together as the golden orb sunk toward the horizon, casting the day’s final brightness across the waves. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen, and you fought against a lump in your throat as you thought about your situation. 

You were lying to Frankie - and his friends. You weren’t quite using them, but by being dishonest, you were cheapening the experiences you had with them, including the one with Frankie that day. Yes, you were writing the book and updating the site, but it wasn’t the whole truth, and you knew that if Frankie ever found out, he’d be upset. And so would his friends. 

In previous cities, you’d rationalized it by reminding yourself that telling the truth would lead to people shying away from you in disbelief and labeling you crazy, and you didn’t think that would be any different in Florida. But this is the first time I feel bad about lying. 

Frankie’s arm shifted beneath your touch, and you felt the helicopter turn again, putting him between you and the sunset, and without even thinking about it, you swung your head in that direction. It gave you a reason to look at him, and though you knew that he knew that it was happening, he didn’t react. The man’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm under the dark t-shirt he was wearing, his breathing even. I won’t be here long enough for it to matter. 

You kept your hand in place until Frankie swung the helicopter again, the flight path carrying you back toward the airport, but neither of you said anything else. 

The landing was smooth, Frankie putting you down a little closer to the building than you had been on takeoff. You watched in awe as he worked, his concentration never wavering until he’d flipped the engine off, silence surrounding you and made somehow deeper by the headset you still wore. 

You removed yours when he reached for his, hanging them back on the small hook in front of you, and then reached for the harness buckles, undoing them in reverse order. It was Frankie that broke the silence first, the man reaching up to remove his hat and run his fingers through his hair. “I’ll take you back inside and open that locker so you can get going before I come back out and do my post-flight check.” He nodded, glancing over. “That alright with you?” 

“Yep.” Reaching for the door handle, you pushed it open and then carefully climbed out, wobbling slightly when your feet made contact with the ground. Frankie joined you seconds later, the two of you making your way back to the door of his office silently. 

It wasn’t a tense silence, but you could feel that he was waiting for something, and as he twisted the knob, you decided to break the tension. “That was really amazing, Frankie. The view was … I wasn’t expecting the sunset or for us to be up there for so long, so you’ve … it’ll be hard to top that.” 

“Just doing my job.” He gestured for you to walk into his office, following close behind. “But that was a really great sunset, right?” 

“It was. Do you do a lot of the sunset -”

“Not like that.” He shook his head, taking the final steps toward the lockers and tossing his hat onto his desk. “Not as a surprise. My clients usually… they book a specific thing, and I stick to it.” You watched his back - shoulders pulling the material of the shirt tight over them. “But you seemed pretty open to whatever kind of flight I thought would be best, so…” 

The locker popped open, Frankie moving off to the side for you. “You were right, it was great.” Stepping forward, you reached for your bag and then stopped, turning the top half of your body toward him. “I do need to tell you, though, that a surprise sunset helicopter tour is pretty romantic. So I’m surprised you did that, especially after you stopped yourself from kissing my -” 

He moved again, Frankie stepping forward and then using both arms to cage you in against the still-closed lockers. The man lowered his head to press his lips against yours, sucking in a quick breath at the last second. The motion was swift but the kiss was not, the pressure of his mouth gentle as he made contact, though he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to deepen it. Oh. Oh, alright. You wrapped your arms around him and sighed, feeling relief that he’d been the one to make the first move that day. I wanted to, but … 

He backed away, just enough that you could see his eyes, and when Frankie opened his mouth to speak, you cut him off with a single shake of your head. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. I wanted it just as much as you.” He was surprised for a moment, the look in his eyes changing to something you’d never seen in them before - and then Frankie kissed you again, taking another half step forward so that his entire body was pressed to yours. 

He bit your lower lip that time, the pinch of pain causing your lips to part and giving his tongue an opening, Frankie slipping it through to meet yours. But that kiss was short and messy, one of his hands moving from the lockers to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and squeezing, the man groaning out your name when he pulled away a second time. “Wasn’t going to apologize,” he mumbled, lips trailing over your cheek and to your ear. “Was just gonna see if you were interested in continuing it somewhere else.” Somewhere else? “My truck’s outside, and my house is -”

“There’s a desk right there.” Your eyes flicked toward it and then back to Frankie’s, unblinking. “That’s good enough for me.” 

— 

In the days that followed your first flight - and second night spent - with Frankie, you settled into a routine in Florida. 

You spent your days exploring and researching, some of the guys joining you on hikes and excursions, pointing out restaurants and places to visit as they drove you around. They were animated, all three of them truly welcoming you into the little circle they’d formed in their Delta Force days. It made you happy to be included, because they were all just as friendly and genuine as they’d been the first night you met. 

They made you feel safe, too, ensuring you didn’t get lost in parks and nature preserves, or go too far out of your way when you were searching for things to see and do. And there was no shortage of stories told, either, Benny and Will and Pope telling you all about each other 

The only one you didn’t see on your own was Tom, and that was because of all five of them, he never reached out the way the others did. That was fine with you; he’d been friendly enough, but you could tell that he had little interest in getting to know you, even on a limited basis. 

And when it came to you and Frankie, you settled into that routine easily, too. You didn’t see him every day, and every time you were together didn’t lead to sex, but what you had between you was comfortable. You talked every day, though, text and voice messages sent back and forth while you were taking a break from whatever it was you were doing and he was between flights, and one long phone conversation while he was on his way to drive and see Carmen. 

You were closer to Frankie than you had been to anyone that you could remember. 

Even though you knew that would make finishing your assignment and leaving Florida hurt, you did nothing to keep yourself from deepening the connection. There were times when you wanted to tell him what you were really doing in Florida - usually when the two of you were curled up on the couch together, the TV playing quietly in the background, or when you were eating dinner together, recapping your days. 

But you never did. Common sense and concern over pushing him away outweighed the desire to be honest. So you kept what you were really in Florida for from Frankie in an attempt to keep at least some semblance of what you were used to intact for as long as you possibly could. 

By the morning of your third flight, you still hadn’t heard from Alec, though you’d seen your aunt post a picture of the three of them on her Facebook, their smiles broad. So you knew that not only had they made it to Nevada - she also knew about the pregnancy. Good for them. 

There was only a week until the next full moon, and you’d narrowed down the places you thought most likely for the wolf’s probable location from six to three, based solely on the previous attacks. One of them - Green Swamp - was where Frankie would be taking you that afternoon, but the problem was that it was so large, there were multiple campgrounds to choose from. 

You planned on asking Frankie which one was the most popular, but before you could even get the words out, he was wrapping you in his arms and kissing you hello, zero hesitation when it came to being affectionate with you. “We’ve gotta be on a little more of a tight schedule today.” He stepped away from you, resituating the hat on his head. “I have a flight after yours.” 

His eyes moved from your face to his desk, one hand reaching out to touch the wood. I wonder how often he thinks about that afternoon. “No defiling the desk today. Got it.” Wrinkling your nose, you gestured to the lockers. “Same one as usual?” He nodded and you twisted the combination lock into the correct series of numbers, stuffing your bag inside and  then shutting it, sunglasses held in your right hand. “Remembered them today.” 

He grinned at you and then reached out, waiting for you to take his hand. When the two of you stepped out into the sunshine, you turned your face up and toward it briefly, inhaling. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Frankie urged you forward, clearing his throat. “I have late flights a couple days next week, and my schedule’s packed because of all the people getting last minute vacations in before school starts again, so …” He waited for you to climb in and then leaned forward, reaching for the harness straps before you had the chance. “So it might be kind of hard to see each other, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m blowing you off.” 

You didn��t reply right away, instead focused on how quickly he got you strapped in, his fingers trailing over the straps - and in turn, your chest before dropping lower, pulling the one between your legs up and buckling it. “Dinner sounds good.” You nodded, waiting for him to look back at you. “Want me to cook?” Frankie shook his head and then leaned in, lips landing on your cheek. 

“Nope. Ironhead invited us to the bar.”

“Us?” He nodded, smiling as he backed away and shut the door, walking around the front of the helicopter and climbing in beside you. “I’m included in that now?”

“You are.” He handed you the headset and then put his on, leaning forward to flip a few switches after strapping himself in. “They’re not stupid. They know we’ve spent a lot of time together over the past couple weeks.” He pressed another button and spoke to air traffic, and then you watched him nod, switching the channel back, placing his hands on the controls. “So yeah, when he texted me earlier, he invited you, too… by name.”

You grinned at that, taking a deep breath as you lifted off of the ground and rose into the sky, Frankie maneuvering the aircraft just as smoothly as he had the previous two times. It was a twenty minute ride to the preserve, but you and Frankie filled it with conversation - the man pointing out landmarks every now and then and you making note of them, though you kept your eyes on what was in front of you for most of the flight. 

“So, Frankie…” You settled back against the seat, turning your head toward him. “Green Swamp is one of the places I want to camp. I know there are a ton of places in the preserve, but … what’s the best? Do you know? I want something that’s sort of … out of the way, you know? Isolated? Where it’d be really quiet?” He didn’t reply right away, but when he did,  he looked over at you smiling. 

“Our RV is actually permanently parked in Richloam.” His smile widened when your jaw dropped. “You’re right. There are plenty of places to camp, but we picked one that was pretty out of the way, and Pope talked the guy into renting out a space year round. There’s no generator or electric hookup or anything like that, we just use the RV itself and have a couple backup batteries and solar panels.” No, shit. “I’d be more than happy to take you up there, whenever you want to.” 

“Just not next week.” He nodded, returning his attention to the window. “Hmm.” You leaned forward as the city thinned out, an expanse of trees and other greenery appearing in front of you. “Whoa, that’s huge.” You blinked a few times in disbelief. “Frankie, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“It’s probably the biggest in the area. I’m not completely sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” He pointed. “Our RV’s at the north end, about an hour from home.” That’s not too far. “But if you’ve got someone that knows the area, it’s easier.” He veered off to the right, flying on the edge of the trees, and you looked out your window, eyeing the greenery below you. “If you wanted to get out here next weekend, I can probably …” He sighed. “You can ask Benny tonight. I think he’s…. Free next week. I know you probably won’t want to wait, but …”

“I’ll wait for you, Frankie.” Reaching over, you squeezed his wrist, careful not to jostle the control. “Unless it’ll be weeks, because in that case …” In that case, I could be onto something else, and … “Or I could just come out here by myself during the week sometime, you know? I don’t want to invite myself, but I also don’t want to inconvenience anyone, and …” 

“No.” He shook his head, his tone harder than you’d ever heard it. “Explaining how to get to the site is a little difficult, and the last thing I want is to have to send a search team out for you because you got turned around. Reception’s kind of shitty.” It made sense, but it was still disappointing. He’s just looking out for me. “We’re gonna turn back now, otherwise we’ll be flying straight to Disney.” 

“Ooh, that would be fun.” You laughed, nudging him with one elbow. “I’ll parachute out when we’re over Magic Kingdom.” 

“The Mouse Police would be all over that. And me, too.” He shook his head, frowning. “That is a definite no fly zone.” You laughed again, Frankie swinging the helicopter back and pointing it in the direction you’d come from. “You going to Disney while you’re here? I know you won’t put that in the notes or anything, but I don’t know if you’ve ever been.” 

“I have once, when I was a kid. I bet it’s a lot different now, but …” You shook your head. “I’m not sure I’ll have time, Frankie. I’m only here for three months, and … I have a lot to do.” 

“We could plan something toward the end of your stay.” He sighed. “Becca and I took Carmen earlier this year, and she loved it. Her boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled we were spending a weekend together, even though we had separate rooms and only saw each other in the parks, but that was something we wanted to do as a family.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Point is, you can’t go to Epcot and drink around the world with a toddler, so…” He looked over at you, his unease turning into amusement. “If you were into that, it would be a lot of fun.” 

“It would.” Is he asking me to go to Disney with just him? That would be … an overnight stay if we were drinking and there’s multiple parks so that would mean a couple days, and … “If you can get the time off of work.” 

“I think my boss would approve it.” You both laughed at that, and then it was Frankie’s turn to reach over and squeeze your knee - only briefly - before he put his hand back on the control. “Think about it, alright?” You nodded and told him you would, but for the rest of the flight back, the word liar repeated over and over in your mind. 

— 

He’d kissed you goodbye quickly once you were back on the ground, but there wasn’t time for much else - the helicopter needed to be looked over and refueled, and Frankie’s employee was impatient. 

He promised to pick you up on his way to Ironhead’s and you parted ways, but you didn’t go directly back to the apartment. Instead, you drove around aimlessly, fingertips drumming against the steering wheel. 

There was a chance - a small one, admittedly - that after the following week, you’d be on your way out of Florida and finding somewhere to regroup. I could stay here. Chewing on your lip as you sat at a stoplight, you closed your eyes. “No, I couldn’t. If I kill a wolf, I have to leave.” 

You’d never been in the scenario before, but you assumed that if you found and eliminated the wolf, others would come to check it out - and to look for you. You had no interest in sticking around long enough to find out if that was true or not, and so the plan was always to finish your business and then skip town if you ever made good on your mission’s objective. But I’ve never had anyone to leave before. 

Pressing on the gas, you drove through the light, Frankie’s smiling face flashing in your mind. He wasn’t yours to leave, but sneaking out under the cover of darkness without saying goodbye was one of the most unappealing thoughts you’d ever had. There was no way to explain yourself without clueing him in on your real reason for being in Tampa, and if you did that, it would potentially put him in danger, something else that you didn’t want to do. 

Even if he didn’t believe you, simply putting the idea into his head was dangerous. “And that’s why I can’t tell him anything.” Blowing out a breath, you nodded. “That’s why I’m lying.” It was a flimsy excuse, but it was enough. “And there’s no way I’ll figure this out in a week anyway, so I don’t have to think about leaving yet.” 

That was almost a certainty - you were closer than you had been but nowhere near close enough, and with all of the green, swampy spaces you’d seen over the previous few weeks, you figured it would take you at least one more moon cycle to narrow things down. And that means another month of … “Another month of Frankie.” 

�� 

He picked you up a little before 7 that night, Frankie getting out of the truck and walking to the door to knock. You did a double take when you saw him standing outside, your mouth falling open in surprise. “You shaved.” 

Frankie reached up and rubbed at his chin with his fingertips, nodding. “Just trimmed it a little. Why? Don’t you like it?” It made him look much younger, and though you missed the full scruff, you had to admit that he looked good with shorter facial hair, too - which you admitted to him, the man’s cheeks reddening with the compliment. 

“Have you ever thought about just the mustache?” Walking beside him, you headed for his truck. “Getting rid of the beard and the sideburns and all of it?”

“Yeah. I’ve done it before. I look about twelve.” You snorted, stopping at the front of the truck while Frankie did the same, leaning against the hood. “I went out on a date a couple years ago and the woman said she preferred no facial hair, so …” He shrugged. “We went out on one date, and I haven’t done that shit since.” 

“I’d never ask you to shave, Frankie.” You wrinkled your nose, reaching out and pinching his cheek. “Even though now that I know you’ve got these cheeks hidden under all that, I’m never going to let you forget it.” He rolled his eyes but you saw his lips twitch in amusement at the same time. “Same with your hair.” 

“Yeah?” The two of you climbed in, and when you were on the road, he glanced over and continued. “What about it?” 

“I like the way it curls.” You shrugged, resting your elbow on the door, hand dangling over your lap. “I bet, too, you like it long after so many years of keeping it short.” He nodded in agreement, looking back over at you. 

“Yeah. That was one of the best parts about gettin’ out and taking on private assignments. No one gave a shit about the length of my hair as long as I got my job done.” He went quiet then, reaching over to flip the volume on the radio up, and for the rest of the ride to the bar, you were both quiet, aside from him humming along to the music. 

You were stunned at how natural it felt to be with him and joke with him. It didn’t feel like you’d only known him for a few weeks, and once you’d gotten past pretending that you didn’t want to continue your physical relationship with each other, it was like a flip switched. 

The attraction was still there on an almost constant basis, but instead of forcing yourselves not to act on it, both of you let it free. He touched you often - a hand on your back, sliding his fingers between yours, draping his arm around your shoulders when you were sitting next to each other - and Frankie looked at you like he wanted you, even when you were doing mundane things. 

And you were more open with your flirting; complimenting the man at every chance you got, running your fingertips along the back of his neck, and making it apparent that you were into him, especially when you were around people that both of you knew. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to prove a point or keep anyone else from showing interest in you, because with the exception of the first night - and genuine friendliness and honesty, not even Benny had tried to flirt. You were doing it because you wanted to - and because you could feel the confidence boost it gave Frankie each time. 

His friends didn’t give you a hard time about it, either, and you wondered if the same was true for Frankie when he saw them without you around, though you didn’t want to ask. 

“C’mere.” He leaned over after parking, tipping your chin up with two fingers. “Before we go inside…” Nodding, you leaned closer and closed your eyes, warmth of his exhale hitting your lips moments before the kiss began. 

It was a tender one, and one that you nudged further, drawing his lip between yours and then licking along the seam, Frankie’s palm moving to the back of your neck and his fingers spread wide to keep you close. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking amazing at that?” You whispered the words when you pulled apart, your eyelids fluttering open. “Because you are, Frankie. I could kiss you until -” 

“You know you don’t have to stroke my ego, right?” He pulled his hat off and combed his hair back with one hand before settling it back into place. “I’m already planning on taking you home with me tonight.” You snorted, reaching for the door handle. 

“Fine. I won’t ever give you a compliment again. You suck at kissing, Frankie. The worst. In fact, I -”

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, and you’re a goddamn liar.” He climbed out, peeking back into the cab. “Now come on, I want a beer.” 

Hurrying to catch up with him, you met him just before he opened the door, Frankie putting his arm around your waist and guiding you through the crowd. 

Pope, Will and Benny were already sitting in one of the booths, but to your surprise there was another person there, too - Tom. 

You slid into the open space next to Pope, Frankie taking a seat next to you. Before you could even say hello, a full glass was pushed in front of you, Benny grinning from across the table. “Finally. Do we need to check the parking lot security cameras? Are we going to see anything that we don’t want to?”

“Yeah.” You took a sip, cocking your head to the side. “And if there’s volume, you might even get to hear me telling him that he’s shit at -”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Frankie reached for the pitcher, pouring himself a drink and taking a long sip while his friends laughed, Tom’s focus on the two of you. “Is there food coming, or should I go to the bar and order?” 

“We ordered.” Will waved his hand, shaking his head. “But if you want something that’s not an appetizer, you’ll have to go up and talk to Kay.” Frankie looked at you expectantly, and when you nodded, he stood again, staring down at the table. 

“Text me what you want and I’ll order ‘em together.” He looked at his friends. “Anything else? More beer?” Pope asked for another pitcher while you started typing, and it was only after Frankie had walked away that anyone else spoke, Tom licking his lips and saying your name. 

“Looks like you and ‘Fish are getting along well.” 

“We are.” You took another sip, setting your phone down. “We went on our third flight today, which was the last one I had scheduled. Went up toward the Green Swamp, and he said that’s where your RV is?” Pope nodded, and so did Tom, his thumb running up and down along the side of his beer glass. “I told him I wanted to camp up there at some point, but he said to wait so I could stay at the RV, and he’s busy all next week, so it’ll have to be after that.”

“Busy with what?” Tom frowned, a confused look on his face. “He doesn’t fly at night, and -”

“All the last minute vacations, Redfly.” Frankie slid back into the booth next to you, clearing his throat. “I opened up my bookings a couple extra hours a day until he second week of September, and then I’m taking little while off.” He took a drink, licking his lips clean. “Give myself a break before the holiday travel starts.” He’s taking a break? That means … 

It meant that after the second August full moon, if you were still in Tampa, you’d be able to spend more time with Frankie. But why didn’t he say anything til now? “A break? You never do that.” Tom scratched the side of his head. “Any special reason?” 

“Because he’s been flying almost nonstop since last winter?” Pope spoke up, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “We’ve all gotten to take time off in the last few years, except ‘Fish here, who…” Pope snorted. “He’s spent more time in the air since we got back from Colombia than he did the entire time he was enlisted.” The other guys laughed, too, Frankie casting a grateful look at his friend. “Good. Maybe with some time off, we can go do something fun.” 

“Like what?” Benny leaned closer. “Vegas? Mexico? Fuckin’ Barcelona?” 

“I suggested going to Disney a couple hours ago.” Frankie sniffed, taking another drink. “Last time I went, I was with my daughter, and that was great, but …” He smiled, looking over at you. “But I think it would be even more fun with other adults.” 

“Fuck yeah it would.” Pope’s grin was infectious, the man leaning closer to Frankie. “Yovanna would probably love that, unless it’s just for us guys, and -”

“There are plenty of hotels.” Will spoke up, swiping a hand through his short hair. “And I’m sure Tanya would want to come too. What about Molly, Tom? Could the two of you get away from Tessa for the weekend?” 

“Probably.” He took a long drink, nodding. “Would depend on when, though. Closer it gets to the holidays, the more shit we have to do with her family, so I can’t promise anything.” Everyone murmured in reply, beginning to talk over plans, but Frankie leaned in, whispering into your ear. 

“You’re invited too, in case you were wondering.” He nudged you with his shoulder, and then reached for your hand under the table. “And now I kinda roped you in, so…” 

“We’ll see.” Lips twitching, you squeezed his hand. “Thanks for putting me on the spot.” He laughed, straightening back up and letting go of your hand. 

“You’re welcome. And I’m about to do it again.” What? But before you could question him, Frankie reached over and threw a peanut at Benny, saying the younger man’s name. “Did you ever get ahold of the guy at Hillsborough with the boat?”

“I did!” He slapped his hand on the tabletop, looking from Frankie to you. “He said you can stop by whenever, it’s been pretty slow this month so far. All I’ve gotta do is let him know when, and you’re good to go.” 

“Really?” He nodded. “Thank you, Benny, I’ll figure it out, and let you know. Can I go out at night? That would be pretty neat. Maybe next week sometime?” You narrowed your eyes, pretending to think. “Isn’t there a full moon? You’d probably be able to see a lot on the water like that.” 

“There is.” Frankie spoke up, nodding. “Wednesday, maybe?” He pulled his lower lip back between his teeth, thinking. “I wouldn’t be able to go that night, since it’s about 35 minutes away and by the time we were done and home, I’d be in no shape to fly the next morning.” Pope nodded slowly, glancing over at Tom and then Will. “What about you, Benjamin?” 

Your attention moved between the blonde men, lingering on the younger one, Benny nodding thoughtfully. “I mean… yeah. I don’t have anything going on. Let me get ahold of Manny, and I’ll let you know, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” He nodded at you, his smile growing. “Can I have your number so we don’t have to play telephone through ‘Fish?” His eyes flicked over toward Frankie as he spoke, Benny winking at the other man before looking back at you. 

“Of course.” You recited it to him, waiting to see a text come through to confirm that you had his in return. “Thank you, Benny.” He held up his beer, nodding, and then the six of you were interrupted by the approach of two servers, their trays laden with food. 

“See?” Frankie leaned in again, his hand resting on your thigh. “Told you you’d always have one of us around.” 

— 

You had to admit that the airboat was a lot cooler than you’d imagined it to be, though it was no less terrifying. 

Benny showed up at your door late Wednesday afternoon, the man grinning from ear to ear, and escorted you to his car, talking a mile a minute. 

It was much different from the time you spent with Frankie, and even though you’d grown accustomed to the pilot’s personality, Benny’s was a welcome change. 

He’d kept you talking the entire way to the campground - mostly about your book and website, but he also threw in a few stories about the other guys, too, specifically Frankie and Will. It was like the two of you were old friends, and by the time he pulled a small duffel bag out of the backseat and the two of you headed for the dock, you felt a slight pang of annoyance that you hadn’t made as much of an effort to spend time with the younger Miller brother outside of him accompanying you on research missions. If I stay longer, maybe … maybe that can change. 

It was nothing like the attraction you felt toward Frankie, but you gladly took Benny’s hand when he helped you onto the boat, introducing you to his friend. 

The moon was just beginning to rise, and as the three of you got situated, you looked up, smiling at the sight of it. This is one of the locations I narrowed it down to. Maybe … maybe we’ll see something. “Alright, some rules.” Manny stood behind the two of you, hands on his hips. “Stay seated, even when we’re stopped or just driftin’.” You nodded and so did Benny, waiting for him to continue. “You’ll want to wear the ear protection, because this fan is loud.” Both of you nodded again. “When we stop, you can take it off if you want. That way you’ll be able to hear all the critters.” 

“Sounds good.” Benny nodded. “Anything else?” 

“Make sure you put on your bug spray, and I’d recommend long sleeves.” You already had your arms covered, but Benny didn’t, the blonde unzipping his bag and pulling out a hoodie. “Also, just a warning - there is a rifle on board. We shouldn’t need it, but …” But what? Your eyes widened, a breath sticking in your throat. “Just in case.” 

Only a few minutes later, you were underway, gliding away from the dock and toward the trees, the moonlight shining over the water and illuminating the area in front of you. There was no point in having your phone out, because it was too dark to take photos, so you focused instead on the water and what little of the shoreline you could see in the shadows. 

It was thrilling to feel the breeze against your face, and for a few minutes, you let yourself relax, leaning back into your seat while you scanned the area ahead of you. You felt Benny’s hand on your arm a while later, the man pointing with his other hand. When you followed the direction of it, you saw pinpricks of light at the surface of the water, gasping when you realized that they were eyes. Alligators. There are alligators ten feet from me, and … You shivered, though you leaned closer, Benny doing the same thing next to you. 

The boat kept moving, though it moved much slower, giving you a chance to take in your surroundings. Manny shined a light ahead of you, and you froze at just how many pairs of glowing eyes you saw, glancing over to see the look on Benny’s face. He was grinning, his head shaking back and forth in delight. 

You stopped a little while after that, the motion of the boat ceasing, and when you reached up to take the headphones off, you were stunned at how loud the animals around you were - the buzz and hum of cicadas, crickets chirping, the low croaks of frogs; you even heard the hoot of an owl in the distance. “Listen to that.” Benny spoke from next to you, voice low. “Reminds me of the jungle.” 

You looked over and saw that he was focused on the water in front of you, lips set into a frown. “It’s louder than I thought it would be.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything else, and when you heard something splash close by, your attention went there, eyes skipping over the moonlit surface and looking for ripples. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Manny spoke from behind you, waiting until you both turned to look to continue. “I can start the fan again, or we can keep drifting.” 

“You choose.” Benny shrugged. “I’m good either way.” 

“Can we just drift for a little while? This is relaxing.” Manny agreed, and the three of you sat in silence for long moments, staring at the darkness around you. “How many tours do you usually do every day?”

“One or two.” You turned back to look at him while he spoke, the man gesturing with one hand. “Most of ‘em during the day. Special cases closer to sundown. It’s harder to see at night, so this is a special favor for Miller here, but the moon makes it a lot easier.” You glanced up at his words, noting how the light filtered in through the breaks in the tree branches above you. “I have busier times, though. We have two boats, and -”

He was interrupted by a loud splash that sounded close, followed by a low growling noise that turned into what sounded like a motorcycle. Shit, what… “It’s fine.” Benny leaned over, settling his hand on your knee. “Just a gator.” The sound continued, Manny confirming Benny’s statement as other ‘voices’ joined the chorus, and even though your heart was racing, you felt excitement at the experience. This is really fucking cool. Not what I’m looking for, but… 

The rumbling roars continued as you drifted along with the current, and when you glanced over at Benny, he was grinning right back at you, his eyes wide with excitement. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“Not at night.” He shook his head. “Not like -” 

But then it was Benny that was cut off when another sound pierced the air, and you watched his expression change, his lips parting in shock. That’s not a gator. Your head whipped to the right and toward where you thought it was coming from as the sound carried through the air again - the unmistakable howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance. 

It was sustained, long and low, and you heard Manny swearing from behind you, the man scrambling in his seat. “Benny? What is that?” You asked the question even though you already knew, head shaking back and forth. “It sounds like a -”

“A coyote. Maybe a panther. It’s -” 

“That isn’t a panther. They scream, not howl.” Manny’s tone was serious, and when you looked back, you saw that he had the rifle in his hands, though his finger wasn’t on the trigger. “That sounds like a -” A second howl cut through the air, though that one sounded a little different than the first, the pitch higher. Two? There are two? 

“We’re hearin’ things.” Benny shook his head, eyes narrowed. “There’s no wolves in Florida. It can’t be -” But the sound came again, then, louder and closer, and when Benny moved that time, it was to reach for the bag he’d brought on board. The man’s hand dove in and came back out, fingers curled around the grip of some sort of handgun. Why did he bring a gun? You blinked quickly, an icy chill coursing through your body. 

It was possible that he’d brought it for the same reason Manny had - in case the gators got too close to the boat. But the other possibility was that Benny had anticipated another kind of danger during the ride, and had wanted to be prepared. There are a ton of animals in these swamps, so it’s possible, and… “Benny, why do you have a -”

“Keep that handy, Miller.” Manny spoke up as the howling continued, the man’s voice quiet but somewhat calmer. “I’m going to start the fan again and get us back to the dock.” 

“Yes, sir.” Benny nodded in agreement and then reached up to flip the brim of his hat backward, clearing his field of vision. His posture was relaxed, though you knew he was anything but, and you opted to stay quiet - heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’d moved closer to you, angling his body so that he could watch more of the shoreline, and you were thankful for it, though there was as large part of you that felt vindicated. 

It’s a wolf. There aren’t wolves in Florida, and that means … that means I was right. That means… The howling was cut off by the sound of the fan, and you blinked in surprise when a second spotlight turned on, aimed toward land. That’s fucking bright. Manny smoothly turned you back around, Benny’s position shifting again to partially block you from the side of the riverbank you were closest to. 

Wincing, you covered your ears with the protection again, reaching into your back pocket for your phone. You thought about texting Frankie, and then decided not to, instead bringing up Alec’s contact and typing out a message before hitting send and praying that you had enough bars to get it through. I’m on an airboat in the middle of the Hillsborough River and there is a wolf howling in the distance. I was fucking right.

When you pulled up to the dock, Manny cut the fan off again, anchoring the boat. You ripped off your ear protection, setting it down on the bench to the seat’s right. There were no sounds aside from the nighttime creatures, and when the men nodded at each other, you all stood, gathering your things and beelining it for the small building that acted as the tour office. The three of you listened intently as you moved, Benny in front of you and the other man behind. 

Once inside, Benny locked the door and pressed his back against it, he gun still held tightly in one hand. “We all fuckin’ heard that, right?” 

“Yes.” You swallowed hard, nodding. “It sounded like a wolf. But there aren’t any here, like Manny said. So what the hell is -”

“Whatever it was was close.” Manny frowned, looking around the room. “But maybe it was just a trick of the -”

“We all heard it.” You cut in, rolling your eyes. “No way all three of us heard the same thing and imagined it or warped something else to sound like …” You trailed off, closing your eyes. “It sounded like there was more than one, too. Did you hear the -”

“There’s gotta be an explanation.” Benny pulled his hat off, running his fingers through his hair. “Someone playing a prank, or some shit like that. Because I’ve heard wolves before, in Colorado. I’ve heard a pack of ‘em howling, and that sounded close, but it wasn’t…. Those sounds were coming from different places. If by some fuckin’ miracle there were wolves here, why and how would it be two different…” 

You watched his brow wrinkle in confusion, the man’s blue eyes narrowing. What are you thinking, Benny? You once again thought about calling Frankie, but after glancing at the clock, you decided not to - it was almost 10:30, and you knew that he was already in bed, his phone on Do Not Disturb. 

“I think I want to go home, Benny.” You blew out a breath. “Manny this was great and all, but -”

“Yeah, I’d like to get away from the swamp, too.” The man laughed, scratching the side of his head. “In twenty goddamn years, I’ve never … never heard anything like that out here, and I’d feel a little better just…” He sighed. “Being in my house.” 

The three of you parted ways in the parking lot a few minutes later, the gun only leaving Benny’s hand after you were both safely in the car and the engine was running. You hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary since you’d arrived back at the campsite, but you only fully relaxed once you turned onto 301 and were headed south, joining in a steady flow of traffic. 

Benny’s fingers were gripping the wheel tightly, the man’s jaw locked, and even though you had a ton of questions for him, you started out with one that surprised even you. “Are you going to text Frankie and let him know what we heard, or should I?” 

“Better question is what are we going to tell him?” He looked over at you, some of the tightness leaving his expression. “Because he’s not gonna believe it if we tell him what we think we heard.” We don’t think we heard anything. That was a … those were wolves. “Grab my phone for me, and dial Pope’s number, will you?” 

You reached into the backseat for his bag and pulled out the device, scrolling through his contacts and pressing the one for Pope before you handed it over. He took it, pressing the device between his ear and shoulder and waiting. Pope first? That’s interesting. Not his brother? 

“Hey. Where are you?” You watched the blonde man’s expression, catching a quick look of surprise that rapidly shifted into confusion, Benny clearing his throat before speaking. “Oh. Alright. Well, uh…” He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and gripping the wheel tighter. “We’re leaving Hillsborough right now and you’re not gonna believe what we think we heard.” He paused and then let out a laugh, though it wasn’t an easy one. “Wolves. We stopped the boat and were drifting, and something started howling and…” Benny’s voice trailed off and you saw him nod twice, reaching up to take the phone between his fingers again. “No, all three of us. Loud as shit, but it makes no sense, right? That’s impossible?” 

He was quiet for a long time, listening, and you pulled your phone out, swiping up on the screen. He’ll see it in the morning and he told me to let him know when we got home anyway, so… While Benny continued the conversation with Pope, you texted Frankie, trying to word things delicately. 

On our way home now. Heard some really weird shit on the boat. Sounded like wolves, but it couldn’t have been… scared the hell out of us. We heard and saw a bunch of gators, too. The boat was a great idea. Call me later if you want. “I think she just did.” You glanced over, finding that Benny was nodding, his eyes still on the road. “Yeah. He’ll see it in the morning.” He paused. “Yeah, Pope. We’re good. Have a good rest of your night. Stay safe.” 

It was a strange way to end the conversation, but you didn’t question it, instead settling back into your seat and looking out the window. You kept quiet until Benny cleared his throat, asking how you were doing. 

“I’m fine. It just freaked me out, I guess. I was expecting to hear the alligators and all that, but not … something howling.” He laughed, agreeing. “What the fuck do you think that was, Benny?”

“I donno. I’ve heard some crazy shit over the past couple years, but that …” He shook his head again. “No clue.”

You decided to joke with him, broaching the idea of what you knew to be the truth. “Maybe it was a werewolf.” He inhaled sharply, the steering wheel jerking in his hands. 

“What?” He looked over at you, the man’s shoulders stiff. “What are -” That’s an odd reaction. 

“Full moon and all?” You gestured at the moon, forcing out a laugh, though your heart was pounding again. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just trying to come up with an explanation for -”

“Maybe if it was October.” His voice softened, the man sighing. “Kids going out in the woods and camping and playing tricks on each other and all that shit.” Maybe. Or maybe not. “Happens all the time. People go out and get lost in the damn swamps because they’re tryin’ to scare themselves.” 

He went quiet again, the man’s deep breaths lengthening as he continued to drive. Instead of replying, you just stared out the window, arms crossed tightly over your chest. I have so much shit to add to my notes tonight. 

Neither of you spoke until he was parked in your driveway, the overhead light on as you gathered up your stuff. “Thank you for taking me tonight, Benny.” You looked over at him, hoping he could see the sincerity in your expression. “I’m glad you were there, and that you had a gun.”

“I’m glad I didn’t need to use it.” He smiled, the expression more genuine than any of them had been in hours. “I’ve seen too many videos of alligators getting curious and trying to climb into boats. I wasn’t gonna take any chances.” You laughed then, reaching over to squeeze his arm. 

“That’s a visual that’s going to haunt me.” He laughed, too, his eyes never leaving your face. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” Benny pointed at the front door. “You want me to walk you in?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Seriously, Benny. Thank you.” Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over and hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what the fuck we heard tonight, but I’m glad someone else was there to confirm that I’m not going insane.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know either.” His grip on you was solid, but he let go quickly. “Now go inside. I wanna get home, and I’m supposed to take a picture of you walking in that door to send to -”

“That’s weird as fuck, right?” He nodded, wrinkling his nose. “Frankie seriously asked you to -”

“Yes to both.” Benny held up his phone. “But he cares about you, so…” You gathered up your stuff and then got out of the car, ducking your head to peek back in. 

“Is it so he knows I got home safe, or so he knows you didn’t try to weasel your way inside with me?” Benny snorted, his laughter barely contained. 

“I’ve done a lot of stupid shit with women, but I’d never try anything like that with someone that ‘Fish was into, and he knows it.” You smiled and gave him another nod, closing the door and walking the short distance to the front of your apartment. 

Once it was unlocked, you turned halfway, giving Benny a wave. You held the pose until you saw him lower the phone, the man giving you a thumbs up in return. He was already backing out of the driveway when you stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind you and flipping the switch on to bathe the room in light. 

It was barely after eleven, and thanks to adrenaline, you were wide awake - itching to get to work. “I was fucking right. Holy shit!” You spoke to the empty room, nodding your head as you set everything down, slipping your shoes off. There’s a wolf here, and it was close. You sat down, pulling your locked suitcase out and opening it, reaching for your journal and a pen. “Now I just need to figure out why it sounded like there were two of them.” 

— 

The ringing of your phone woke you what seemed like only minutes after you’d fallen asleep. 

You blinked your eyes and groaned at the sound, trying to focus on the slivers of light peeking in through the blinds to figure out what time it was. Reaching for the device, you shot up into a sitting position at the sight of the name - and picture - on the screen. Why is he calling me so early? 

Pressing the button to answer, you raised the device to your ear. “Alec? What are -” A woman’s voice on the other end of the line said your name, the sound thin and shaky, and your fingers immediately tightened around it as you confirmed that it was you. 

“This is Ashley. I didn’t… I hate that this is how …” You stood, your body shaking with fear and all traces of sleep gone as you listened to her speak. “We were going to surprise you but we got in too late last night and I needed to find a place… you know.” She paused, taking another shaky breath. “Alec was attacked last night. He’s in surgery right now, and you need to … you need to come to the hospital.” 

— 

tag list reblogs coming soon!

[gaybitchfx]

-❄️ character(s): sephiroth

-❄️ type of reader: m!reader

-❄️ category: sfw

-❄️ warning(s): intentional lowercase

-❄️ idea from: @reallyromealone

-❄️ edited: ❌

“mr. y/n is very nice! he reads us stories for nap time!” one of sephiroth’s sons said as the single father drove them around in their stroller.

“really? that sounds nice.” sephiroth softly said to his four-year-old. “and, and! he’s so pretty!” another child of sephiroth said as he lightly bit on his lollipop. the third son nodded his head agreeing with his brother.

“papa you should come with us!” the third one recommended making sephiroth light-heartedly smile. “i don’t know..” he said but his sons continued to give him puppy dog eyes which he so effortlessly succumbed to.

and so here he was accompanying his four-year-old sons to see their teacher they talked so much about yesterday.

“good morning everyone.” you said softly as you walked into the room but surprised to see sephiroth here. “and you are?” “he’s our papa!” one of his sons said as he held onto his father's pants leg. “oh well, it’s nice to meet you.” you would say with a smile and hold out your hand for him to shake.

he only stared at you, jaw slightly slacked open and barely blinking. “is something wrong?” you hummed tilting your head a little snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “o..oh i’m sorry. i’m sephiroth.” he said and shook your hand ever so gently. you smiled at him softly.

“it’s alright. now everyone! we have a guest today so be on your best behavior understood?” you said and began walking to the little carpet where most of the children were. “yes mr. y/n!” they all said. when sephiroth’s sons said you were pretty they were not lying. you were gorgeous and just breathtaking all together.

“now how about we learn about the different kinds of animals today.” you said to the children softly and opened a picture book of different animals before you began to read them out loud to the children who repeated the words you told them to say. sephiroth would only stare at you, his body relaxed and his eyes containing a soft gaze towards you. seeing your smile was the best part.

before he realized it, it was already time for everyone to leave because the school day had ended. “excuse me?” sephiroth said, grabbing your attention as you cleaned up the fallen papers and crayons from the tables and floors. “is it alright if we meet again? i mean out of your job if that’s alright.” sephiroth asked, his voice was much softer than it usually was surprisingly.

“of course. i’d love the get to know my three favorite students’ father.” you said with a soft smile that made his heart feel like it was being strangled. he gave you his number before quickly leaving due to his sons telling him to hurry up.

“papa is smiling..” one of his sons whispered to the other two who nodded. this was the happiest sephiroth had been since the day his kids were born.

-❄️ tags: @jkloserdazai @secretivemessenger @lostsomewhereinthegarden

[illneverrecover]

static voice pt 2 | kth (M)

➛pairing: Demon Taehyung x Fallen Angel Reader (ft. bff Angel Jin) ➛summary: It's been weeks since his healing, and yet you still have a lingering demon house guest - something your best friend isn't going to let you ignore. However, with more time that passes, you realize... do you even want him to leave? ➛genre: Angel/Demon!AU, fluff, humor, eventual smut ➛word count: 3741 ➛rating: 18+ for this installment, please check each part for rating as there will be smut ➛warnings: cursing, some quick descriptions of violence, some heavy petting. ➛notes: Demon Taehyung demanded a full story line, and here we are. Shout out to static voice anon who started this whole thing by sending a simple ask -- you have no idea how much your encouragement means! And as always, sending love to @allbutmemorywillfade who sent in the original prompt which lead to the creation of these sweet dinguses, and who has been nothing but supportive & kind. You're too good to me 🖤 This is rough edited and unbeta'd bc I have no patience whatsoever. ➛song: Mine - Sleep Token & I Can See You - Taylor Swift ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @quinnkoo, @thatlongspringnight​

It’s Sunday morning, and there is currently a demon folding laundry on your bed.

Everything about that sentence should be blasphemous, and yet, it’s become normal. Well, normal for you. Certainly not normal for any other Fallen you’ve ever known. 

Taehyung’s brow furrows as he concentrates, sorting the mass of clothes first into piles before making way to fold each piece. His hands are precise, fingers lining up each seam as he works, eyes only leaving his work to dart towards the TV playing something in the background. He liked having something on for noise, he had explained, and who were you to question someone willing to fold your clothes?

Jin would say that your use of that argument is what led to having a demon for a roommate in the first place, which is exactly why you keep these kinds of thoughts to yourself - you didn’t ask for that kind of negativity. 

Not that there was any downside that you could see. Sure, you hadn’t asked Taehyung what his plan was yet, but you also hadn’t needed to. He was the epitome of a perfect house guest, slotting into your life easily and effortlessly. He was considerate, always offering to assist with any healings that he could; from triaging those who showed up at the door, to talking with them softly while you worked, easing their anxieties with a few kind words. And in those difficult sessions where there was nothing for him to do, he offered what he could - his presence, his reassurance.

It made you feel safe, knowing that he was on your side, no matter what you opened your door to. 

“Does this need a hanger, or am I supposed to fold this?” 

Taehyung holds the garment pinched between his fingers, eyes peering up to meet yours. It’s a black silky dress, mostly held together with string and a prayer, and you know for a fact it was something you hadn’t worn recently - let alone put in the wash. 

Heat creeps up your neck, and you fight the embarrassing urge to rip the fabric out of his hands and throw it out the window. The demon blinks at you with wide blue eyes, and you wonder not for the first time if he’s fucking with you. 

The other thing about Taehyung is that he’s impossible to read. His ability to go from the aloof affectionate demon who cuddles with your cat to the flirty winky man who drops innuendos in your kitchen leaves your head spinning. Worst of all - at least, to you - is that nothing has happened since that night at your place four weeks ago. Other than a few lingering glances that leave you questioning, Taehyung has made no more comments about his desires, which you try not to think about. Even if it’s driving you crazy. 

“That needs a hanger - though I have no idea how that ended up with the laundry, I haven’t worn it in ages.”

It was something you had purchased on a spontaneous whim, back when you had first become Fallen. It had made you feel sexy, powerful; and you had nowhere to wear it, so it had lived its life mostly stuffed in the back of your closet. 

“Oh, I put it there,” Taehyung says, nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I was going through your closet to see if there were some things you could donate to that shifter that you healed two nights ago and found it crumpled on the floor. It was too beautiful to leave in that condition.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, you instead fix him with a glare. 

“Oh? So you were aware it needed a hanger,” you grumble, though there’s no heat in your tone. “And what am I supposed to do with it now? It’s not very practical to wear for healing,” scoffing, you nod towards the dress. 

“I disagree,” Taehyung sniffs, placing the garment on the hanger before laying it down on the bed delicately, smoothing it over with a palm. “I think the sight of you in that dress could be healing in more ways than you could imagine.” 

Suddenly, the air in the room was stifling and you forget how words work, instead just blankly staring at the demon on your bed. He looks up at you, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, and before you can formulate a response, a loud sound interrupts from the other room. 

“HEY! Lucky, you asshole, I’m trying to walk!” Jin yells, clearly fighting a battle with the cat in the foyer of the apartment. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“In here!” you call out, moving to grab the dress off the bed and put it in the closet before the angel sees. You’re not sure why you feel the need to hide it from him, but the last thing you need is him doing something to embarrass you - especially after Taehyung managed to fluster you so thoroughly. 

Jin bumps the door open with his hip, his arms full of plastic bags, various groceries sticking out of each. “These are the groceries I owe you after eating all your last ones,” he announces, eyes scanning the scene he’s walked into. “I want it to be known for the record.”

“Hi, Jin!” your demon roommate greets, moving to stand. “Want me to put these away for you? I was just finishing up laundry.”

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, and you do your best to ignore the pointed question he was daggering into your skull, instead answering for him. “That would be great, Tae. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tae,” Jin echos, sliding the bags easily into the blonde’s arms. “We’ll  meet you out there in a second.” 

You’re about to mouth off about how Jin isn’t your father and he doesn’t get to order anyone around, least of all you- but Taehyung is already acquiescing, leaving the bedroom with the soft click of the door.

“So, he folds your laundry for you now, too? What’s next, he gets your dry cleaning? On Wednesdays, are you going to drink wine and do face masks?”

Tsking, you cross your arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jin. We both know I don’t have dry cleaning, and face masks are part of Smut and Skincare Sundays.”

This time, the angel doesn’t hide his annoyance in his glare.

“Come on, you know what I mean. I get why you haven’t kicked him out, but…” he sighs, plopping himself on the edge of your mattress. “What are you doing? What is he doing? What’s the end goal here?”

It’s what you’ve been asking yourself these last few weeks, and yet you’re no closer to coming to answer now than you were before. All you know is that you enjoy having him around, and something about the unreadable lanky demon being nearby gives you a sense of peace you haven’t felt since before becoming a Fallen. A feeling of comfort, of safety - and you’re terrified of losing it. 

“I don’t know, Jin. I just know that I don’t mind having him around,” you avoid his eyes, instead rounding the bed to finish putting away the clothes. “It’s nice having help with the healings, especially with the late night calls. You know I don’t like being alone here.”

You leave the other piece unsaid - that you don’t like being alone, at all. That Taehyung’s warm, infectious laughter and mischievous charm added light back into your once dark, monotonous days. That it felt like he belonged there - but that you have no idea how he feels, at all. 

The silence is heavy, as if Jin could read your mind, but if he does he doesn’t say anything, instead letting loose a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to be a hard ass or anything, but I am trying to look out for you.” 

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“I know that, too.”

“At least promise me you’ll talk to him about what his plans are? If he intends on staying here indefinitely, or…” Jin pauses then, as if he doesn’t want to even go down the route. “Whatever. But promise me you’ll discuss it?”

He reaches out then, stopping you in your tracks until you meet his eyes. There’s no longer any annoyance there, just genuine concern, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel any more at ease. 

“Yes, Dad,” you tease, shaking your hand free with a grin. “I promise I’ll talk to him. But it’s certainly not going to be in front of you, so it’ll have to wait for tonight.” 

“Fair enough,” Jin moves to stand, reaching for your door. “Just make it soon, okay?”

He closes the door behind him, and you hear his voice joining Taehyung’s in the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Why are you so scared to talk to Taehyung? It has nothing to do with his status as a demon, something you barely noticed outside of his beauty; you could tell he was a genuine being, regardless of his beginnings. And he’s easy enough to talk to, has been nothing but a perfect gentleman of a roommate. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s because it’ll be an awkward conversation, one that has the potential to make him feel awkward as well, something that you don’t want in the least. But if you’re honest - truly, deeply honest - it’s because you’re scared that he will leave, and you’re not sure that you want that at all, anymore. 

Actually, you know you don’t want that anymore.

The answer seems simple enough, then - have the discussion, ask him to stay. 

But why does the thought of asking him make you feel like you’re swallowing glass?

“You better come out here if you want to help pick dinner!” Jin yells, and shakes you from your thoughts. 

Joining them in the kitchen, you see they made quick work of putting away the groceries, leaving the counters clear with the exception of a few paper take-out menus. 

“Grocery shopping exhausts me,” Jin explains, nodding towards the array of menus. “It’s my treat, just let me know what sounds good and I’ll go pick it up. I promised Tae I’d stay for a movie.” 

After settling on a local Thai place, Jin calls in the order before heading out, demanding that you both are on movie selection duty in his absence. 

Plopping yourself onto the couch, Taehyung joins you, sitting side by side so close that your thighs are pressed together. Ignoring the building heat his proximity brings, you quickly grab the remote, scrolling through various streaming options trying to settle on something that you’d all like. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung interrupts, voice low.

“Of course.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?”

Tearing your eyes from the TV, you focus on his ethereal face illuminated in the flickering light of the screen, on the intensity in his eyes. He looks distant; his gaze still bright, but more serious than usual, more lost. 

“What do you mean, Tae?”

He sighs, a mixture of resignation and something more. “I mean, what if I wasn’t a demon? What if I hadn’t been injured, or it had happened in another district with a different healer? What if you hadn’t Fallen? Would our paths still have crossed?”

His eyes are a bright cerulean blaze, more solemn than you’ve ever seen him before, and it has you frozen in place. It feels like he’s asking you something much bigger, much more vulnerable than he’s letting on, and it makes your throat tighten. 

Meeting his stare, you reach for him, taking one of his hands into your own. “I believe that some connections are meant to happen, regardless of the circumstances,” you reply, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “We could have made different decisions, but ultimately, our souls found each other and brought us together.” 

It’s then you realize just how close you are, how close his face is to your own, how his body is pressed up against every inch of your side. The intimacy of your words and your bodies has you feeling exposed, and yet you can’t seem to pull away. 

Taehyung’s gaze meets yours, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “You really think that? That some connections are destined?”

“Of course I do,” you nod, and his answering smile is almost blinding. Sliding his hand away from yours, he instead launches into a hug, pulling you to his chest. 

“Thank you for saying that. You really have a way with words, you know,” Taehyung murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You have no idea how much peace your presence brings me, Angel. It’s something that I thought I’d lost forever.” 

His words have your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your tongue thick with the things you want to say. You’re even more affirmed in your decision to ask him to stay, pulling out of his embrace to do just that, when a loud knock at the door startles you both. 

“Hello? Is this where the Fallen healer lives?” a male voice calls out, one you don’t recognize. “Please, I just need some healing - are you home? Hello?”

Moving to open the door, you wait until you hear Taehyung follow in step behind you before answering. Leaving the chain lock in place, you open the door enough to peer into the hall. “Yes, how can I help?” 

A demon stands there – the tiny horns barely visible in his dark hair – black like his wrinkled suit. He was dressed like he either just left some sleazy bar or was on the way to one, though based on the stale whisky scent emanating from him, you’d guess both. 

He gives a low whistle, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Damn, they didn’t mention how pretty you are, just that you were the closest healer. If I wasn’t so hungover, I might try to shoot my shot, but at the present, I-” 

“Nevermind, I’m not home,” you deadpan, moving to close the door, when the demon's foot stops it from shutting completely. 

“Please, wait! I’m sorry, you’re right, that was rude of me–” he starts frantically, clearly not wanting you to leave. “Listen, I’m just really, painfully hungover, and I have a big meeting I have to get to with some guys that I do not want to piss off and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. I just need a little healing, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His hands wring together, and you notice how much his teeth are working his bottom lip, the tinges of his fear evident despite his bravado.

Glaring at him, you sigh heavily before peering over your shoulder to lock eyes with Taehyung. If all he needed was a little hangover cure, it should be simple enough of a healing without taking too much of your energy, and then he could be on his way. Easy enough. When your demon gives you a reassuring nod, you turn back to the stranger. 

“Fine, a quick healing, and then you leave me alone.” 

“Yes, of course! Thank you, seriously,” he continues, pausing as you unlatch the chain and open the door to let him inside. “I really appreciate it.” 

Standing in the entryway, it’s once he closes the door behind himself that the stranger finally notices Taehyung, eyes narrowing. “What’s another demon doing here?”

“He helps me,” you reply, giving the same simple answer you give anytime the question is asked by a creature looking for your services. At the end of the day, it’s none of their business who he is and why he is with you, and the less information given, the better. “We’ll do the healing down the hall.”

Moving to get your supplies, you go to show him to your workspace but he’s still paused, glaring at Taehyung. 

“What, he helps you, you help him, that kinda thing?” he sneers, speaking to you but still only looking at Tae. “Can’t say I blame him, you really are a looker. I bet you’re really fun to play with.”

Temper snapping at his words, you spin on your heel to point to the door. “That’s it, you’re done. Get out.” 

Before the demon can utter a reply, Taehyung is in his face, as if he was waiting for your unspoken signal to spring into action. Holding him in place with a fist in his suit jacket collar, he shakes the demon once, walking him backwards toward the door. “You heard her. Leave now, and do not return.” 

“Come on! Can’t you take a little joke?” the asshole shouts, any pretense of niceties fully falling away. “It’s just a quick healing, you sensitive bitch!” 

You can feel the change in the atmosphere when Taehyung tenses, his form seemingly trembling with restraint as his pupils blow out until his eyes are black. “You’re going to regret that,” he murmurs, a sinister smirk on his lips.

A bright light has you covering your eyes, slowly blinking until you can make out the form of Jin, his wings fully spread and an angelic dagger in tow.  The Thai food was still in bags in his other hand, Jin clearly returning from his trip only to walk into a different kind of battle.

Dropping the bags by the door, he saunters into the room.

“He’s right, you will regret that,” Jin says, voice even, “but you’re going to have to deal with me now, instead.” 

Plucking the demon out of Taehyung’s hold, Jin tugs him into a headlock, placing the blade at the bottom of his throat before turning toward the door. “Taehyung, why don’t you make sure our girl here is all taken care of while I take care of the trash, will you?” 

He waits for Taehyung’s nod, and then Jin looks at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you affirm, stepping closer to Taehyung. 

“I’ll come check on you guys later.” He nods, and then he’s out the door, a bright light streaming through the cracks as it closes. 

And then, it’s just the two of you.

Taehyung immediately springs into action, arms sliding around your shoulders as he guides you to the couch, draping a blanket around you once you settle. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, he continues his task, moving next into the kitchen to put the take out in the oven to keep warm before putting the kettle on for tea. Finally, he searches through the newly stocked pantry for a sugary snack, something that will appeal to your sweet tooth. 

“What sounds better, sour gummy bears, or those nerd cluster things?”

“Sour gummy bears, please,”

Soon, the coffee table before you has a cup of hot honey lavender tea and a little bowl of sour gummies, and Taehyung is settling beside you, reaching for the remote to find something to put on TV. You feel cozy snuggled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you and your overly affectionate demon beside you, and it’s then that you realize just how comforted you really feel.

Effortlessly, without you realizing, Taehyung knew what to do to soothe you, knew the actions that would bring you peace after something stressful had happened. He didn’t need to be asked, or told – just sprang into action to support you, asking for nothing in return. There was only one other person who had done that for you, even before becoming Fallen, and that was Jin. 

The thought has your heart thrumming in your chest.

Pressing play on some vampire show, he then leans back on the couch, pulling you with him until you’re resting cuddled into his chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, eyes questioning. “If it’s too much, I can go get some pillows instead.”

It’s his thoughtfulness that finally breaks you, has tears welling in your eyes as you stare into his depthless gaze.  You can’t hold it back anymore, the question you were going to ask, and you blurt it out before you can doubt yourself. 

“Taehyung, will you live with me?”

 His eyes widen in surprise, and you feel your stomach drop, scrambling to explain. “I don’t know what your plans are, or how long you wanted to stay here… But I’ve come to realize that I really, really like having you around, and I don’t want you to go. So I wanted to ask, would you stay here with me?”

The surprise in his gaze fades, leaving behind wonderment, adoration. 

“You want me to stay?”

Not trusting your voice, this time, you just nod, giving him a watery smile.

Taehyung scoops you up, practically pulling you into his lap and  immediately wrapping you into a big hug, squeezing you so hard your lungs fight for air. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to stay with you.” 

A deep chuckle reverberates in his chest, and you can’t help but join in, his laughter and joy infectious as he crushes you. “No one has ever asked me to stay before.” 

You go to pull away, to move back to your spot on the couch and to continue this conversation, but Taehyung’s arms lock you in place, holding you to him. 

Brow furrowing,  you go to question him, but then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is electric, sizzling down your spine and through your veins until you’re dizzy, until you’re consumed in nothing but the feeling of him and his mouth moving against yours. You’re drunk with it, on the precipice, and when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, you let him tumble into your mouth, salvation be damned. 

“Well, what do we have going on here?”

Jin's voice startles you both, interrupting the kiss. Breathing heavy, you go to slide off Taehyung’s lap, but he is having none of it; instead tucking you in closer and giving the angel a proud grin. Rolling your eyes, you stay put, working to get your heart back to a normal rate. 

“I would say I’m surprised about the whole kissing thing, but I’m not,” he continues, moving fully into the living room to face you both. “However, could you tell me why in the hell you were both glowing?”

[cowgurrrl]

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 4

Summary: you just don't know when to quit...

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explici

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, mean!Steve, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex (F&M receiving), slapping, choking, drinking, begging, tears, swallowing, spitting, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*tattoo edit by @randomagnes0210

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Steve?” Bucky pokes his head in his best friend’s office, and Steve tenses. Scowling as he looks up at him, “Dove is in class, and she is fine,” Steve stands up quickly, starting to walk towards the door. If Bucky didn’t want to watch you, then he would. He’d just make sure Bucky paid for it later., “Where are you going?”

“If you’re not going to watch her, then I will,” Bucky sighs, as he takes a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Leaning back, and propping his legs up. “I’m glad you don’t think this is important.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Please, don’t call her that. She’s not a child,” it’s the last way he would want to see you. The first way is underneath him, crying while he pushes into your warmth.

Bucky takes a slow breath as he covers his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. I call Sam a kid. She’s fine, Steve. She started her classes again. Nothing has happened, and I need a break.”

“And why do you need a break?” Steve huffs. His flair for quick anger rising up into his cheeks as his brows furrow. “What about my Dove?”

“And what about my girl?” Bucky’s voice raises, standing up and going nose to nose with his friend. “What about her being unprotected?”

“You never brought her into the fucking club. Nobody even knows about her! Dove….”

“You are the one that walked her through the club, drenched in her pussy juice, and your arm on her back. You are the one that has been seen out and about with her. You are the one that put the damn target on her back. But nothing has happened. She is in school, and she is fine. She’s being your good little innocent girl, going to class. And she’s still not fucking begging for you, you fucking prick.”

Steve takes a slow step towards his oldest and best friend. No one talked to him like that. His hand lifts, and moves towards Bucky’s neck, but Bucky is faster. Wrapping his hand around Steve’s wrist, stopping him, “I don’t want to fight, Steve. I’m just saying that I need a break.”

“You’re the only one I trust to watch her, and I think she’s getting used to you.”

Bucky starts lowering Steve’s hand. Trying to remain calm. Steve didn’t respond well to aggression, “You have her schedule. You can be the one to watch her when she gets out of class. Stop being a child,” Bucky growls when Steve lets out an exasperated puff of air. “Your little bird will be fine. I promise. It might do you some good to realize how annoying it is to sit and wait on her every move. You need to move her in with you at this rate.”

“I can’t have her in my fucking bed, until she begs for me. I can’t have her laying next to me knowing that I couldn’t just use her whenever I want.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. She was doing well after the cabin. Just stop being so damn hard. Poor Dove is overwhelmed with her head and her body. It’s a lot. Now. I am going to be off. Please, leave me alone,” he nods his head to Steve as he starts to leave.

Steve looks down to the floor, a mild panic setting in at you not having someone watching you. Bucky deserves some time off, but he needs you safe. Balance. He was trying to figure that out.

You step out of class, taking a deep breath before looking around. Eyeing each and every vehicle. He wasn’t here. No Steve. He was supposed to be here. You stand still for a moment, your classmates meander around you. All of them turn to give you looks. They all know who it was that dropped you off.

They all knew the rumors about him. And the stupid man decides to bring you to campus, and drop you off like a child. There were some ways he embarrassed you that was fine, for an odd reason, walking you to the front door was not. You set off walking towards your apartment. It’s a trek, but you didn’t want to wait to be humiliated, and questions asked by the large tattooed drug lord that had attached himself to you.

You had just enough fight left in you to piss him off delightfully, and pissing him off was fun. But there was one thing that bothered you. Eventually you had to tell him, you just had to. He scared you, overwhelmed you, but damn if he didn’t make you feel good. Too good.

And then there was that moment, however fleeting it was, but it was there. A tiny sliver of care. It’s the only reason why you haven’t fully pushed back with it. It confused you because it — it made him feel human. It made him seem like he cared for more than just your innocence.

Hearing a rev up of a SUV makes you tense up. You have gotten used to that sound. The hairs on your body stand straight up, and chill bumps arise over your skin. Feeling his eyes on you, before you see him. You keep your head looking straight ahead, but see the vehicle in your peripheral vision.

The heat from the motor tingles your body, but you don’t look. Even when you hear the back window roll down, and can feel his icy stare on you, you don’t look. Sam slows the car enough to ride beside you, and your breath shudders.

“Dove,” you gulp, but still don’t look at him. You could feel his anger. You didn’t wait. You walked away from the school without him.

“Dovey,” there is an annoyed sweetness wrapped into his voice, but you keep your eyes in front of you. “Dove, you better stop walking, and get your fucking ass in this goddamn car now.”

You shake your head no. It was going to be bad, and you weren’t ready for it. “Get in the fucking car!”

“No,” there is no confidence in your meek response. It was shallow, and pitiful.

The SUV stops abruptly, and when Steve jumps out of the car, your pace picks up. Only to be met with his thick hands pulling you into his hard body. Dragging you to the car, his nose nuzzles up against your neck. Whispering into your ear with a deep rumbled timbre “If you want me to spank your ass, next time just ask. There’s no need for this fucking show, when you know who is going to win.”

“Steve, please.”

“Have I not taught you anything? Quit fucking whining,” he hauls you to the car, and all but throws you in. “Stop telling me, please. Please, what, Dovey?”

“You’re an asshole!” You scream loudly as Sam starts the car.

Steve angrily bites at his lip as he cracks his neck. His hand tenses on his knee. Trying to scoot further away from him has Steve reaching over to pull you even closer. “And why’s that, Dovey? What makes me the asshole?”

“You…what don’t you do that makes you not be an asshole?”

“Explain,” he growls out. Brows furrowing, and you look away. Doing so has him grabbing you by the jaw, forcing your face towards him. “And you better fucking look at me when you talk to me.”

“You…you won’t let me hang out with friends.”

“You don’t have any. You have a roommate. You two don’t even go out together.”

“Because I’m scared of you! You always…you’re just an asshole.”

He spreads your legs apart, laying his own leg on top to keep you spread. Placing his hand on his thigh, he slides up and under your skirt, and cups your covered core, “And you’re walking around in a skirt.”

“I’m wearing the panties you bought for me,” your voice is flat and without emotion.

“Yeah, I thought I told you, you are only a whore for me. Those stupid boys you’re in school with aren’t even good enough to lick your cum off my pants. All the while I see their eyes. I watched them. Looking you up and down. Looking at what is fucking mine. Wondering just how good of a cunt you have. Don’t worry, I’ll soon remedy that.”

“Steve, don’t threaten to kill someone that looks at me. They’re not…nobody’s looking,” Steve lets out a low growl, and you tremble beneath his touch. Hating the way that it makes even more slick pool in your core. “What…what do you think is yours?” You challenge. There is something a bit more freeing with being the only person to talk back to Steve.

“You know what’s mine, Dovey.”

“Tell me,” your eyes roll up to meet him, and you give him a little smirk. “Go on, Steven. Tell me what’s yours?”

He slides your panties to the side, shoving two fingers into your wet heat, laughing when you whimper. He lays his palm over your clit, watching as you start grinding on him. “That right there. You, and your hot little cunt between your legs belong to me.”

“You…no, it’s not.”

“You sure,” he lets your body gyrate on his fingers for a moment. Smiling when your juices gather in his palm. The sound of your pussy echoing in the small car. “Even your pussy knows what you’re trying to deny. Does it feel good, pretty girl? Do you like the way my fingers stretch you out?”

You shake your head no, but moan shortly after, “Yeah you do. You’re a fucking liar. Go on, Dovey. Make yourself come since you’re such a needy little bitch. I’m the big bad drug lord, but you, sweetheart, you’re a liar. Why are you lying when it’s so obvious how greedy your pussy is? She’s crying for me, Dovey. Just like you do every night.”

“I don’t — I don’t cry for you,” you deny as your body moves faster. Your pussy sucks his fingers in so deep, and you get a high knowing that you are getting better.

“Was it just last night that you moaned out my name while you fucked yourself with two measly fingers in your pussy? It’ll take more than that, baby. Whose fingers feel better?” You move in silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“You don’t have to tell me. Your cunt wasn’t as loud last night. You were being so sweet putting on a show for me. Whimpering out my name, thinking you were teasing me. At least when I was fucking my hand, I got to come. Had my cum dripping down my fingers, you stopped yourself. It’s almost like you know that you could never fill the void left by me. You’re so much wetter right now. Is it because it’s my thick fingers, instead of yours?”

“Uh uh,” Steve chuckles as your body starts writhing hard over him.

“There you go, Dovey,” you pant, nearing stopping, but he pulls your body down the seat. Your legs spread even further, and his hand starts fucking into you. Destroying you with his fingers alone. “You’re going to fucking come like a good girl,” he grunts pounding into you.

Your voice goes from moans to desperate sobs, and Steve can only look at your pussy clinging onto him. Adding a third finger just for measure, and you scream out his name. Keeping your legs wide, and you lift up to watch him drive into you. A pleasurable pain at what he was doing, and your legs tremble.

Shaking at the amount of complete bliss that you were in. Steve pulls his fingers out of you, letting your juices squirt into the floor, before shoving them back in. Repeating the process until your ass is soaked and so is the floor of the car, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Tell me, Dove,” he demands, slapping his whole hand on your bundle of nerves. You thrash around, but he doesn’t stop. “Fucking tell them all, that I own this cunt!”

You have no idea how even the slaps was making you leak all in the car. Wet and pouring sounds light up the car, and you can’t think. “Who owns your pussy, Dove?”

“Y-y-you do!” Your whole body quivers, and you’re unsure if you can come again.

“Say it. Say who owns this pussy.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers owns…he owns my pussy!” You come undone again, and he leans over to feast on his prize. Sucking on your lips, and slurping up every bit of the release he made. Pulling off you with a smirk before sucking his fingers clean.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Steve…why do you want to just own me?”

“Mmm,” he moans at your taste. Licking his lips, and wiping off his beard. “I don’t. I want to destroy you. Only so I can lift you back up, and wipe away those tears that I earned. I want to own you. I want that virgin cunt to be molded to my cock so bad that you whimper when you think of me not inside of you. I want to take care of you, and worship you. I want you down on your knees begging for me to fill you with my seed, and I will gladly listen over and over again. I won’t stop until your belly is swollen with me. And then, Dovey, I will truly own you. And I have no problem with wearing you down slowly. Is that what you wanted to hear, baby? How I desire nothing more to be as much of a menace to you as you are to me?”

“You want to test me every part of the way. You enjoy breaking my rules, because you love this torture I’m giving you. You enjoy the fight, don’t cha? You think I don’t notice your fucking games you’re playing with me. If you need to fight me to finger fuck you or tongue fuck you, I guess whatever makes you wet, Dovey.”

“I — no, that’s not…”

Steve twists his head to the side, giving you an evil sneer before his eyes dart to the seat and floor, “You did that, Dovey. You made a fucking mess in my car, and I have half a mind to make you clean it up with your filthy tongue. Your fucking game of refusing me made you that wet. Because you like when I get angry, and take from you.”

“You’ve never kissed me,” you whisper, head dipping down. “You just want me to bow down to you, and I never see what you want from me, but my body,” he reaches over, pulling you over on him. Letting your ass settle in his lap while you straddle him. Pulling you close to his chest. So close you feel his heart pounding. He’s nervous. His inky hands run up and down your thighs as you take staggered breaths.

“Steve,” you whimper when his nose rubs up your jawline. Whispering a breath over your ear before pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear, “That’s not the kissing I meant.”

“I know, Dovey,” the deep growl he releases sends sparks throughout your body as everything heats up from the electricity the two of you create. “I don’t just give a peck on the lips. I claim every part of you. You will never desire anyone else, but me.”

His lips trail down your neck, and back up. Teeth nipping at your jaw before his lips hover over yours. Staying still while that devil may care grin turns up his mouth, “Are you ready to submit fully? Once I kiss you, I’ll own more than just your body.”

“No,” weak. You are a liar. Your voice couldn’t even lie for you.

Opening his hand, he slides it all the way up your body before his fingers that smell of you, tickle your neck. Flattening out his hand, he wraps his fingers around the sensitive column, and gently pushes you away, “Try again, Dove.”

“I’m not begging.”

“And that’s not what I asked. Are you ready to fully submit? You’re already…”

“Yes,” you squeak, nodding your head, “I’m ready to submit,” hand still around your neck, he crashes his mouth against yours. Immediately his tongue pushes past your lips, demanding entrance, and you grant it to him. Moaning, and starting to grind on his lap, his free hand squeezes your thigh, holding you still.

It was too good. Your body is reacting, but he needs you motionless as he dominates your mouth. Giving your tongue a suck as he slides off. His teeth grab onto your lip, and he adds enough pressure to cause some yummy discomfort as he slides off your lips, “Little bird, you’re too easy. One kiss had you a needy bitch in heat. What am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck me.”

“No,” you stare at him aghast. That wasn’t what you were expecting. “You didn’t realize we’ve been sitting in front of your apartment complex. You need to go home.”

“Fuck me!” You bite your lip as tears spring to your eyes. You asked, well demanded.

“No. You’re not begging, and I’m not rewarding your bad behavior. You really wouldn’t want me to for your first time. Go home, Dove.”

“Steve, fuck me, please?” Your lip trembles, but he shakes his head no.

“I have work to do. Go home,” opening up his door, the girl down the hall stares at you straddling him, and his hand still around your neck. “Clean yourself up. And change panties. They’re a filthy mess,” his laugh is sadistic as he releases your neck. Letting you awkwardly try to get off him.

Your legs still wobbly, and head dizzy with confusion, you stare at him. You hate him, and still crave him. “I won’t see you walking from school alone, again, Dove. Bad girls get punished. Good girls get fucked,” he closes the door in your face, but the car doesn’t leave until Steve sees you in your bedroom window, and you pull the curtains closed on him.

It was a beautiful day, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want him to see you live in person. He can watch his stupid little cameras. There were enough of them that he could see every angle, but you didn’t care. Fuck him.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens to some dealer groan about where his money was. They always thought they could get one over on Steve. “What the fuck?” He grits his teeth as he looks up at him. “Natasha, please make sure our guest gets what he deserves.”

She stands up from the shadows, walking over and ignoring his pleas. Raising her gun, she puts a bullet in his forehead, “Goddammit, Nat! Now who the fuck is going to clean this up?” She shrugs her shoulders and walks off. Never caring about the mini tantrum he pitches.

The couch was now tainted. He had visions of having you lean over the back while he railed into. “Get rid of it,” he commands to whoever was in the room.

“The man or the couch?” A particularly small newbie asks. He was learning, but had no sense of making an executive decision.

“Both of them,” Steve walks towards his office, looking at Bucky before entering. He needed a distraction. And the most perfect thing to distract him was you playing coy in your bedroom. Walking around in nothing but panties, playing with yourself, taking pictures that you never send him, “What she doing?”

“Still sleeping,” he gives him a nod while Steve looks at the monitors in his office. He trusted Bucky to back off of you for a bit. Still had him take you to school, and pick you up. But Bucky was right. He didn’t need to stand outside your apartment all night. There were cameras everywhere. No one could get in without them knowing about it.

His eyes dart around your body for a bit, “Why is her head covered?” Bucky shrugs his shoulders, and yawns. Leaning back into his chair. “Why is she not breathing?”

“What?”

“Fucking decoy,” his fist slams down on the desk. You never slept with your head covered, and you most certainly breathed. And yet there was a lifeless body on the bed. Oldest trick in the book, and Bucky fell for it. “Find her now! Bucky, I swear if something happened to her, I’ll have your other fucking arm!”

“Calm down.”

“No! She’s not in her fucking bed!”

“And I had to take a fucking piss. She…” he stops his train of thought, and pulls out his phone. “I know where she’s at. There’s a field party at Lakems old barn.”

“If…if someone touches her,” he scowls at his friend as he stomps out of his office. Fraternity parties at Lakems barn were notorious for random hookups. He’d have any man that looked or touched you ripped of their dicks.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll make me choke on my own dick. I got, your highness.”

Steve’s eyes zero in on you immediately and he growls. “I’m gonna kill her,” he slings his door open, walking straight towards you. Booze and horny fraternity boys are all around. You dance around giddily with a damn solo cup in your hands. Teeth stained a bit purple from whatever you are drinking.

He’d murder them all. They didn’t care. You stumble too close to the bonfire dropping your cup in the flames, and it angrily ignites more from the alcohol. And they just eye you up and down. Waiting on you to become too inebriated before they took what was his.

Grabbing your wrist, he slams you into his body, “Hey, Steven,” you giggle, puckering your lips for a kiss, but he hauls you into his arms instead. “Aw, you won’t kiss me, daddy. Won’t even fuck me, but he acts like my pussy is all his. Thinks he’ll be the first person to use my untouched cunt.”

His grip tightens on your body, and he growls, sending slick straight to your core. “Mmm, I like that, sir. You gonna fuck me in front of these people that aren’t my friends. That guy right there tried to take me deeper in the woods.”

“Hey, man,” he holds his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t know she was your girl. I don’t want,” you giggle when his words are cut off due to Steve punching him hard in the face. The boy stumbles back, and grabs onto his nose, and you continue to giggle.

“Ooh, that makes me so wet, daddy,” he rolls his eyes, that rumbling in his stomach making you so giddy. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t be saying as such, and you would know he was holding back.

“Can’t even have fun. Daddy wants me all to himself. Big bad…”

“Little bird, you’re pushing my patience,” he pushes past the overly drunk college students, wishing you’d just shut your fucking mouth for two seconds. “Keep running your mouth, baby, I’ve got something for it.”

“It’s that big fat cock, huh? You gonna fuck my face, daddy?” Oh he was about to destroy you. Every little slurred word coming out of your mouth was just making him more pissed off. It was making him want to steal your breath away by shoving his cock down your throat.

“You gonna give it to me? Gonna finally fuck my virgin cunt? I want it, daddy. I want you to fuck me in front of everybody so they realize who owns this tight pussy,” your hands try and tug down your shirt, but Steve grabs your wrist. “Only Bucky and Sam get to see my holes? Did Bucky enjoy looking at what’s yours? You gonna make him watch your cum drip out of my swollen cunt.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He screams as he climbs into the car with you. “Go, Sam,” you snarl your mouth at him when he sits you in the car.

“What? What is it, little bird? Are you trying to embarrass me? Didn’t work. You were embarrassing yourself.”

“You are such an asshol, Steve Rogers!” Your hand slaps the seat in between you. He put you as far away as he could. No longer frustrated, but now completely pissed off. “I hate you!”

“Why’s that, cutie? You were just bragging to the whole goddamn field how you wanted me to fuck you. Why do you hate me?”

“Because!” Steve cocks up his brow, smiling at your pouting. “You…you pull me away from my friends, and…ahh!” Grabbing your leg, he pulls you to lay flat in the seat lifting up your skirt, and those fiery eyes turn to look at you. “You like what you see? You didn’t buy these.”

“You want to know why I hate you?” He asks, his hand rubs up and down the sheer silky material that is drenched. The black gusset barely covering your cunt, and just string in your ass. With a skirt.

“Why? Because I refuse to beg for you? You treat me like a cocksleeve, and yet you won’t fuck me,” you wince as the slap on your pussy reverberates off the car. “Teasing me nonstop,” another slap. “Controlling everything I do, but can’t finish the fucking job!” A hard slap on your pussy, and he shuffles to lay over your body. Lowering his weight onto you.

Rolling his hips onto your center, and your legs spread fully to accommodate his hips. His large hand covers your mouth, but he never stops grinding into you. “I hate you because here you are walking around in a skirt and barely there panties. I have told you that you’re only a whore for me. After I fuck you stupid, I’ll buy you all kinds of trashy lingerie for me to see.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you grip onto his back. Unable to hear what he says with his ministrations. “Who were you hoping would see your sweet little cunt, Dovey? Who were you trying to be a whore for? Because I wasn’t there. Who?”

Steve moves his hand off your mouth, stopping his movements when you just mewl up at him. “Steve, I want to come.”

“Answer me.”

“I’m your whore! I’m Steve Rogers whore! Just fuck me!” He shakes his head no, starting to grind over your core again. His stomach is getting coated in your juices. “Fuck me! I’m begging! Steve, fuck me, sir! Fuck me! Claim me. Cum in my pussy!”

“No,” he deadpans, and your hands slide to his waist, attempting to undo his pants.

“I want to come! Steve, Please!”

“Aw, is this what this is? Did my sweet little bird get her some liquid courage, and now she wants to act like some bad ass bitch that wants to be fucked good and hard?” You nod your head rapidly, getting his button undone, and trying to jerk his pants down. “She let her walls down, and can’t lie anymore, and thinks she’s going to take my cock fully. Let Sam hear you cry as I cram myself so hard into you, that it makes you see stars. Licking the tears off your face as I take whatever the fuck I want from you?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Steve. Please, I'll be a good girl. Just fuck me! Fuck me!” He shakes his head again, and you can’t contain the tears that drift down your cheeks. “Steve! All you do is talk. Fuck me!”

“I said no, dammit!” Sitting up off you, he shimmies out of his pants and underwear, and his giant dick stands up in wait. “Take your fucking clothes off,” you shake your head no, but Steve starts ripping and pulling at everything he can get his hands on. Shredding at your clothes until you're trembling in the seat naked.

“Are you going to stick it in?”

“Yeah, in your dirty cock sucking mouth. Get on your knees, and let me fuck your face. You want to use that dirty mouth so much, have at it.”

You sit silently in the car, looking at the discarded mess of what was your clothes, and there wasn’t enough to cover you up. Vulnerable and shivering, and it had nothing to do with temperature. His long arm reaches over to you, and pinches a nipple. Pulling on you hard until you're on your knees. His cock stares at you, mocking just how inexperienced you were.

“Swallow me.”

“Steve…I’ve never…”

“No shit. This is your cock. Let me fuck your face. Wrap that pretty hand around the base. Go on,” anxiously you move your hand to him before he grabs you, forcing you to hold his cock in your hands.

It feels like steel covered in silky skin. His blood pumps so deeply in his veins, it makes you moan. Your fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around his girth, and you become terrified of Clarence. Heat radiates onto your hand, and you twist your neck to look up at him.

“Oh, this is a good angle, baby. Open your mouth. Come on, you can do,” he mocks, tapping his finger on your lips. “There’s a good girl. Got all quiet now, huh? Stick out your tongue, and taste me.”

Turning back to face his one eyed demon, you look at the beads of milky precum that drips down the spongy tip, “Dove, please,” he does a tiny thrust up to your mouth, close enough you smell him. “Dovey,” weakness. You hear it laced in his voice.

Nervously you give his tip a chaste kiss, and he whimpers. Hips bucking up into you, and the mushroom head opens your mouth, and you moan. Leaning down further you lick a stripe up his head, and swirl your tongue around him. Your mouth bursting with his musky essence, and you crave more.

“Baby, please,” you gulp before you open up wide, and sink down over his shaft. Closing your mouth around him, you suck hard as you pull off him. Taking him out with a pop, you turn back to look at him with a smile.

“You like that?” Little minx. Had you not been tipsy, you would have never challenged him.

“Yeah, keep going,” your ass wiggles around, and you repeat that process, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good,” he moans when you start bobbing your head over him. Your arousal leaks onto your thighs as you start moaning over him. The vibrations making his head lean back on the seat.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” his voice airy as you sink fully over him. His tip touches the back of your throat and you gag. Tears spring to your eyes, but you want more. “Hollow your cheeks, Dovey. Let me fuck you. Just relax, sweetheart.”

Steve’s hand smooths down your back, and swoops under your ass. Coming back up before he plays with your empty and begging pussy. “Oh, Dovey, does my cock make you this wet?”

“Mhmm.”

He slips three fingers inside of you, and you open up wide. Taking him about halfway. He thrusts up into you, while his fingers drive into your greedy cunt. Completely full of Steve as you let him have you. Every bit of you. Drool pools on his lap, and start appear in your vision. The fact that this was taking place in a car, and under Sam’s watchful eye makes it so much more alluring.

You let yourself fully sink into his depravity. He could have it. He could take what he wanted if it felt this good. Both sensations make you a sobbing mess. His moans are as loud as your wails. Neither of you care about the struggle to breathe. Barely notice how your lungs are screaming for some relief. This was glorious. It was heaven. It was Steve.

Backing your body up on him harder, he gives you one more finger to take. His whole hand is nearly inside of you, while he forces every inch of his cock into your mouth. Holding you down on it, while your lungs cry for air. Filling your throat with his salty cum.

He moves his hand off the back of your head, and you move your mouth off him. Sucking off every morsel of his cream before sitting up to smile at him. Mascara tears stain your cheeks, and your lips are swollen from his driving pelvis, and still you have a pretty dopey smile on your face. Nipples hard, and ready to be sucked while his fingers are drenched in you.

“Did I do good?”

“Of course, Dovey. Is that what you need? To be told how good you’re taking me?”

“Mhmm,” your heart swells with the praise, and you have a deep need to please him again.

“It was the best,” he moans, giving his thigh a tap. “C’mere. Let me look at you,” biting at your lip, you throw a leg over him, and he pulls you just so his softening cock feels your weeping cunt. “You sure are a pretty little thing, Dovey,” he moans, pinching your nipples.

“But if I ever catch you drunk with a bunch of trash again, I’ll make sure to spank your ass in front of them. That is the one and only time you get to see me stay calm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Will you fuck me now?” You need him. Wanted him. And you were right there.

“No, sweetheart,” even though you pout at him, he still shakes his head, “I’m not taking your cherry when you're drunk on…what were you drinking?”

“Blueberry cider.”

“Seriously? I’m going to have you throwing up later, huh? Here, let me give you my shirt, so I can walk you in,” he pulls off his shirt, and your dainty fingers trace his chest tattoos. Smiling when he shivers. You want to know every story to each one. Where every scar came from. You need to know him.

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please?” Your face is a wreck. Dribble of his cum dries around your mouth, and you look so pitiful, but more beautiful than he’s ever seen you.

“That was the plan, little bird. My god, your nipples are a work of art, pushing through my shirt. And Dovey, don’t ask me to fuck you for the first time when your drunk. I want you to remember each moment. I want you to know that I made my cock fit inside you. Open your mouth,” you gulp, looking up at him confused. “Why do you always do this? Just open. Please.”

Your mouth stretches open, and he spits into your mouth, “Swallow,” you listen. You didn’t argue. You did it. “Who owns you?”

“You do. Steve Rogers owns me.”

“And I’ll always take care of you. Even if you throw up blueberry cider. Only get drunk with me though, okay?” You whisper out okay, and he grabs you by the cheeks. “And never ever call me daddy again.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @softherveauxs @kandis-mom

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Sixteen

Moscow Nights

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Mori led you into the large tower, taking you to one of the upper floors. He gave you clean clothes to change into, a simple black turtleneck and red dress, along with a new coat, gloves, and scarf for when you’re ready to leave. You made a mental note to stop on the way back home to check for tracking devices, couldn’t have anyone else know where the Society headquarters are after the Guild incident. 

After you got changed you stopped by Mori’s office like he requested, just to talk he said. The office was just as nice as Miss Jane’s, a familiar decor, just a lot darker. Mori sat in a velvet chair, facing the window that looked over Yokohama, fitting. On the ground next to him was that little blond girl he asked you to help find all those months ago, Elise you think. Lastly in the chair next to him was that red head in the fedora, the one who bought flowers from your shop, that Fyodor went on to frame for breaking into your apartment, Chuuya. The two of them seemed to be discussing something important. You knocked on the doorframe which caught their attention. Mori smiled and waved you over, interrupting their conversation. “Miss (Name), please come in and may I say you look lovely.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Mori.” You stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long, I have to be back home, I promised William to-“

“I understand you’re a busy woman, Miss (Name). So I’ll get straight to the point.” Mori interrupted you, picking up something on the coffee table in between himself and Chuuya, it was a file. “I know about your charity ball, and I know there is an auction happening on one of the floors above. If any of the Port Mafia member goes in there they’ll be recognized. That’s where you come in.”

“M-me?” You should have realized that Mori was up to something when you came in here. Gaston was right, you can’t trust anyone outside of the society. 

“Yes, Miss (Name), come here.” You walked up nervously and took the file he was handing you, most of the information was blacked out but the lot number was there, lot six-six-five. “It’s files under the guise of a first edition book, you probably are not familiar with the organization the Rats of the House of the Dead, but I do trust you are familiar with their leader, Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Your eyes unknowingly went wide in shock and horror, this hasn’t gone unnoticed by Mori and Chuuya. Mori chuckled and Chuuya sighed. “Boss, now you’re just scaring her.”

“The first to make a move wins, but there is no need to fear about the demon. Earlier today I have received word from one of my executives that a bounty hunter he hired caught him.” Part of you calmed when Mori spoke those words, but you know Fyodor, he was almost able to outsmart Gaston, keyword almost. You know how Gaston triumphed in the end, making them all dance like actors on a stage, that composer scared you sometimes. But Mori’s words quickly caught you out of your thoughts. “Now, we’ll be giving you a cap of a million to bid on this item and afterwards you will meet Chuuya here outside the hotel to give him the files or report that you lost it and return the cash and tell us who bought it and we’ll deal with it as such.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well I could always make good of my promise of making sure you never see the light of day again.” A wicked smile comes across Mori’s face and you took a step back in unease at that. He chuckles and shakes his head. “But something about your reaction tells me that you’ll accept, and don’t worry for the information you’ll get us, you’ll be probably compensated, information perhaps? It’s negotiable.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, it’s a deal then.” You respond and Mori smiles, not as madly as before.

“Wonderful, now then you are welcome to stay and chat if you would like to, if not I can have one of my men escort you back-“

“No thank you, I’ll be fine. I’ll be calling one of the society’s chauffeurs to pick me up. I can’t be having you know where the Society’s headquarters is, now can I? I do wish you well, and I trust we’ll be in contact.” You cut Mori off with a smirk and pull out your phone, glancing back at the two of them before you step out into the hall. “Chuuya, one thing, a question.”

“Huh? What do you want?” He asked, not necessarily angry, even sounding too tired to be angry.

“That day when you bought those flowers, roses I remember, why and what did you do with them?” You looked away, still in thought. “It’s a weird question I know, but that same evening my apartment was broken into and framed to make it look like you did it.”

“Well, I got them because I felt bad cause I was just bothering you at work, I put them in my room.” He answered your question bluntly and almost a bit nervous. “Do you know who broke in?”

“I do, he’s the most dangerous individual I have ever met.” You began dialing up the number of your chauffeur as you spoke. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

You watched as a slight look of shock came across their faces. “But… how did he possibly know about the roses I bought?”

“Apparently he has been watching me, it must have been easy work for him to do so.” You stepped even farther into hallway, ready to hit the call button for your chauffeur. “My final word of warning if what you say is true about Fyodor being in your custody, I would be careful. This is a game for Fyodor that you are unknowingly pieces in, I have made that mistake of underestimating him before when I didn’t listen to Gaston’s warnings. So listen to mine, never let your guard down, never trust anyone outside your close allies for it you do it may mean your end and as much as I hate to admit it this city needs the Port Mafia. As a member of the Society this city can go on without me and it will one day when I leave it when the Society’s purpose is done here.”

“You’ll be leaving? I know you’re not from Yokohama but this is your home, isn’t it?” Mori asked, his curiosity peaked. You nodded with a smile.

“Yes, I will be. I was indeed born in England, and now I have mystery I want to solve. It’s the mystery on where my father is, call it a hunch but I think he’s still alive.” You laugh to yourself and wave goodbye. “Now, that’s enough of my crazy thoughts, I’ll be off now.”

—————————

You arrived back at the apartment building, it was late when you got back, practically everyone was asleep but judging by the sound of music from a certain composer’s room you knew someone else was awake. You walked over and knocked and the music stopped and Gaston answered, looking slightly disheveled like he normally does after working on his music. “Oh (Name), welcome. I was just composing but you are are always welcome.”

“Thanks Gaston, but I need to talk to you.” You stepped inside as you spoke. “It’s about Fyodor.”

Gaston grew silent for a long moment before sighing. “I’ll get the whiskey.”

You sat down on the couch in Gaston’s lounge as he went to the drink cart and poured two of glasses of whiskey for the two of you. He sat down on the couch across from you, setting your drink on the table in between the two of you. He took a long drink before sighing and setting his drink down on the table. “Now, what is this about Fyodor?”

“An unknown Port Mafia executive had a bounty hunter capture him, apparently it was successful.” You replied before taking a long sip from your own glass.

“And who told you this?”

“Mori Ougai himself.” And as soon as you said this Gaston took off his glasses and pinched his nose, and running his hand the his hair. You could hear small swears from under his breath.

“This isn’t good, he’s obviously playing them. He wants something.” He stood up from his chair and gripped his hair and swore even more under his breath. “You warned them, right?”

“I did, if they take me seriously not is up to them, they may not out of pride or a need for vengeance for what he has done.” You responded as you watched Gaston picked up his drink and downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t know what we’ll do, I don’t know what his ability or even how to deal wit-“

“I know his ability and someone to deal with it, he’s a Society of Protection member as well. He just tends to be a tad busy.” He sighs and looks out the window and the snowy landscape before you all. He stared out at it for a long time before walking over to the piano and he picks up one of the picture frames on it. He looks at the photo for a long time like he did with the snow. “I’ll give him a call here soon. We just need to have patience. The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience.” He paused and laughed to himself. “God, I even sound like him.”

 You downed the rest of your drink like him before standing up. “I’m going to bed, I’ve had a long day. Good night, Gaston.”

You walked towards the door and you heard his voice call out as well to you. “Sweet dreams, mon ange.”

—————————

In the snowy city of Moscow sat a young man. He lived in a large manor, no, palace would be a better word. He sat in a lounge chair, tea set out on a side table next to him along with a old telephone, like one of the roaring twenties and a photo of the young noble with an all to familiar Gaston Leroux, old friends. His eyes were firmly fixed on the storming city outside, snow so thick it was hard to see. The room was silent until soft clicks of heels broke it.

“My liege, there is call for you from a Mr. Leroux.”

The young man looked over his shoulder at the butler and nodded. “Put him on the line.”

The butler nodded and ran off and soon the phone next to him began to ring. The man picked up and a smile came across his face as he spoke. “What do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Leroux? It has been quite some time.”

Across the world on the other end of the line was Gaston standing in his luxury apartment all the way in Yokohama. “Good morning your highness, I was just wondering if you remember the job I did for the European Union three years ago?”

The Russian man paused at his old friend’s question. “Yes, I do. Is this about Fyodor?”

There was a hum on the other end of the line. “Yes, yes it is, see Fyodor is here in Yokohama and I believe he wants it to be war between us…”

“So you need peace to balance the scales…” The Russian man finished his friend’s sentence before taking a sip of his tea. “You realize that while I may be your friend and member of the society, I am still royalty.”

“Yes, I know.” There was a chuckle from Gaston. “But who better than a Royal to teach our friend that Crime and Punishment mean nothing to War and Peace. Isn’t that right, Prince Leo Tolstoy?”

There was silence as the Prince sat there, pondering the question before turning to his butler. “Make preparations, I shall be off to Yokohama tomorrow morning.”

“So I take it that you’ll be here soon then?” Gaston asked on his end on his phone. The Russian laughed and took a sip of his tea before setting it aside.

“Most definitely, my dear old friend.” He leaned back into his chair with a closed eyed smile. “It has been far to long, perhaps I have forgotten what my fellow man means so me. Fyodor may not carry a sentimental attachment to his own, but I don’t think I could ever loose my love I have for my compatriots. Especially you Leroux, after all, three years ago when you first faced Fyodor, you saved my life.”

“I know, no need to bring up the past. Gaston said with a light laugh on the end of the phone.

“Oh but how could I, after all the past is what keeps me bonded to you all. We must seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing we are interested in here.” The Prince sighed and smiled, eyes still closed. “I think it is time for Fyodor to learn that we can love a person dear to us with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love and that God may not smile on him for much longer.”

[demonsandmischief]

-Chapter 4: The Avengers' Therapist-

Bisexual Female Reader x The Avengers

Rated M for eventual sexual themes

625 Words

My Masterlist for Previous Chapters. Please note disclaimers in Ch. 1.

"Why didn't you tell her she had to complete our final evaluations for our government pardons, Stark?" Steve asked.

"It must have slipped my mind," Tony said absentmindedly, focusing on the wrench he was using.

"You know that's not true," Wanda said. "You would've never hired someone so inexperienced, unless-"

"Fine," Tony said, dropping the tool and straightening his back. "I knew you all would be the difficult, stubborn selves that you always are, and having forced you into some kind of sterile office with a fifty year old experienced therapist, each one of you would resist. You would never pass, and we would have a big mess on our hands."

"You lied to her." Wanda's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I did what I thought was best. There's no harm coming to her. She's starstruck. She'll sign off on your evaluations no problem, not to mention getting a fat paycheck, and the fact that she will never have to worry about getting another job again because she worked for Tony Stark."

"How arrogant can you be," Steve scoffed.

You hadn't meant to eavesdrop, honestly. After Wanda told you that they had to be evaluated for their government pardon, you were going to confront Mr. Stark yourself. Except, Wanda had told Steve, and they both confronted him without you.

You struggled to suck in a breath, hurt beyond belief. You were naive to believe that you got this high end of a job on good performance. There had to be millions of other therapists to choose from, and Tony chose you, to use you.

You hadn't been starstruck. You were trying to give everyone a fair chance. You didn't realize there was an end goal. You just assumed that you were there to be a therapist, a listening ear, to help, not to issue pardons for war crimes. You were no where near qualified for that.

And to think you had been making progress.

Tony could find someone else to do his dirty work.

You blindly stuffed your belongings back into your suitcase as quickly as you could. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming.

Nat saw it. She accused you of it, and she was right. You were there for resume building.

Beyond the hurt, you were also deeply embarrassed. You were a fool to try to prove yourself to people who could see right through you.

"Woah, where's the fire?" Bucky asked as you nearly ran straight into him.

You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn't.

----

Bucky went straight to Steve, who was looking for you.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked him.

Steve furrowed his brows, "What do you mean?"

"I mean YN just rushed out of here," Bucky frowned. "Did you or someone else say something to her?"

"She left?" Wanda asked, sounding hurt. She wrapped her cardigan protectively over her front. "Without saying goodbye?"

"You're right," Tony said, entering the room. "And I don't say that very often, so make note of that. It was wrong of me to use YN, especially when she had been so kind to all of us. I will take the blame, and tell her myself."

"It's too late for that," Steve said. "She's gone."

"Who's gone?" Nat asked, entering the common space, followed closely by Clint. "Is something wrong?"

"YN. I'm assuming she overheard our conversation with Stark."

Tony sighed. "I know it was really shitty. I was just trying to help all of us."

"You were helping yourself," Wanda retorted.

"I can fix this," Tony said. "Someone just needs to go and talk to her."

"Not somebody," Nat said back, dropping onto the couch. "It needs to be you."

----- AUTHOR'S NOTE----

"Nat's right," Steve said. "She needs to hear it from you."

Here's Chapter 5

I like this chapter. A different perspective.

Updates are MWF

If you want to be tagged, you MUST comment on CHAPTER 1 ONLY.

COMMENT HERE

if you comment on any other parts you won't be tagged. I put a lot of work into layout and editing, tagging is a huge pain and I need to make it easy on myself as the story expands.

If there are 20 chapters, it would take me a million years to review 19 chapters for tags.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk :)

Also, I appreciate all of the love you all have been giving me. I've been writing a lot on Wattpad, and my time here has dwindled. It feels good to be back.

I love requests and I love to chat! It's been pretty lonely over here

Tips, reblogs, likes and comments always make me so happy. ❤️ Thanks for making my blog come alive again.

Tags @inluvwithfictionalwomen @pancakefan7529 @sugarrush-blush @royalmuffinsworld @ichala @cricket-reader @almosttoopizza @wtsseb @ananyar1bughead

[asterekmess]

A Bit of a Conundrum

I've been waffling about this for a long time, and as I've already vented about it to my discord, I wanted to open it up to a possibly larger audience of my readers. And also complain about it more. XD I write. A lot. I have. A LOT of writing. We're talking like more than 2 dozen wips sitting in my google docs, some with 14k, some with 114k words in them. Some with a specific ending in mind, some with no plot beyond what's already written. Fuck dude, some aren't even Sterek/TW! I was fortunate enough to have someone go on my ko-fi and do a monthly donation to me for a few months. They stopped, which I'll never be mad at, but having them there at all, having someone say "I'd like to support your writing just for the sake of supporting it" meant a huge amount to me, and it made me think about all of my wips.

I don't post often, or regularly, or..well at all, for months and months at a time. This is because I almost only ever post fics when they're done. it's a personal rule of mine, and not one I used to follow when i first started writing fic. It's one I came up with shortly after finishing "Wanted" bc I felt terrible and pressured when I had to take breaks during that fic and when I couldn't keep up with a regular schedule for people. And for a long time it was a good rule for me. It helped me not to feel pressured or overwhelmed by the worry of abandoning a project on ao3 and getting bombarded with comments asking where the next chapter is. But as I've continued writing over the years, my wips have gotten more numerous, while my posted work continues to trickle in. I'm a chronic long-fic writer (though my currently posted fics don't reflect that), which means it takes way more time for me to finish a fic than it does for me to get distracted coming up with a NEW idea for a fic. It's hard to finish work. But that doesn't mean I don't love my wips. They're incredible. Some of them contain some of the best stuff I feel I've ever written. Poignant words and phrases and meaningful moments. And looking around at them, I realized that anyone who goes to support me on my ko-fi, or considers following me on Ao3, or even just subscribes to a series, isn't really getting to see what I"m actually doing. They see a fic posted every 9 months, or every year. There's no real indication that anything they do is helping me regularly, that they're even supporting a Current Active writer. In light of that, I've been considering starting to post wips of mine. The problems with that are numerous and a bit overwhelming, hence wanting to hear others' opinions and vent about it ad nauseum. I've got lots of wips, and if I were to start posting them, I wouldn't want to toss the whole wip out at once. But posting a chapter at a time every few days or even once a week, while it would mean a lot of content coming out, it would be a lot of content that I haven't finished. Cliffhanger chapters, and unfinished stories that I can't promise would ever be finished. And I know I don't owe my readers anything, but it's still unsatisfying to post something without an ending. Then there's the absolute overload of possibly too Much content for people. Getting an e-mail every other day about a new chapter for a fic you've no interest in reading isn't fun. And on top of all that, is the editing. Often when I'm struggling with a fic, I find that i need to go back and change the beginning. In honesty, part of why I wait to post until I'm finished with fics is bc semi-regularly I'll get to the end of a fic, go back to the beginning and edit it all over again to make it more cohesive. To me there is no such thing as a 'finished' chapter. only a finished fic. If I posted as I wrote, then I'd either not be able to go back and edit chapters, or if I DID go back and edit my chapters, they would then need updated, and people who'd read the first 4 chapters of something would end up needing to reread the fic to get the full sense of what I'm doing. But at the same time, posting my wips would mean finally getting to share some stuff that's been gathering dust for years in some cases, finally getting to see people's reactions to them. Finally getting to know that even if I don't end up finishing it, at least people can enjoy what's already been written. And of course, finally getting to show people that when they support me through donations or comments or what-have-you, they're supporting an Active writer, supporting work being made every day, even if it's not FINISHED every day. All of these things are stuff I'm trying to take into consideration, and it's been a hell of a struggle. Plus, as I'm unfortunately trying to manage doing a part-time job rn, just getting up the energy for this stuff is a big BIG task.

If you've got any thoughts or strategic ideas, I'd love to hear them. If not, s'all good, I mostly just wanted to vent. XD