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hellfire--cult · 2 months ago

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MafiaBoss!Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Fem!Reader

wc: 17k

+18, omegaverse, boss and secretary, possessive behaviour, jealousy, blood mentions, biting, rough, smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (both ways), slight dubcon at a point, mentions of nancy x reader, fingering, heat and rutting behaviour, breeding kink, spit, marking, degradation

Plot: Being the secretary of a Mafia boss was not easy, much less when you believed your boss was your scent mate and you knew he made your omega coworkers stay after hours to fuck them, yet he never called you to stay. It was time to move on, but your boss smelled the scent of another Alpha on you and decided to make sure you knew who you belonged to.

A/N: it was intended to be just a smut thing, never to be this long. Oh well, enjoy 9k words of pure filth out of that count. this isn't the header i intended, but it'll do

Don't be lazy and reblog.

AFTER HOURS

You didn’t want to pay it much attention.

You absolutely didn’t.

But you couldn’t help yourself as you smelled him, walking through the doors a room away. That scent was filled with ash and iron, yet it was intoxicating in the most addicting of ways. You didn’t want to be loving his scent, but you just couldn't avoid it. The omega inside of you always craved to go closer for a deeper smell, but you couldn’t.

He is your boss and you can’t want him this way. You can’t. You’re his secretary, well, one of them. There are four of you in total, always sitting outside of his office at your respective desks. Your coworkers are Omegas, just like yourself, and you have known them for over six months since you started working here.

You found the job offer through a friend of yours, Robin. Your beta best friend that told you her girlfriend was looking for a new secretary at her workplace. You were desperate to leave your old job, being dragged around by a misogynistic Alpha, telling you you were too dumb to be more than a mere assistant, even if you were great at your work and did it all so he would not have anything to do during the day.

You were shoving your resume in Robin’s hands the second she said that. You wanted out, you needed out, and Robin gladly passed it on to her girlfriend. You were called for an interview a week later, but you didn’t expect the job offer to come from one of the highest social buildings in the city.

You never knew what was inside but you could only guess it was a big company of some sort. When walking through the building, you could smell iron all around you, not blood to be exact, but just a strong smell. It smelled… powerful. A scent that intensified the more you walked through the office.

Then you finally saw Chrissy, going into a glassed room for your interview. You had met Chrissy before, but just a wave from afar. Robin told you Chrissy preferred to stay away from social events, or from meeting new people because of her work. That threw you off but your friend smiled apologetically and you didn’t press on the subject.

As the interview went on, the iron smell got stronger, sharper, only for you to turn around and for your eyes to clash against deep brown ones with dilated pupils. The smell was coming from him. From the man dressed in black outside of the room, his face almost touching the glass, his breath fogging it from how hard he was inhaling and exhaling.

You remember how awe-struck you were with him, and you remember how badly you wanted to get up from your chair to rush after him. But you saw him take a step back, giving Chrissy a nod and then walking away. You were confused and looked at Chrissy with a questioning look and that’s when you found out.

This was the Komodo mafia gang. They owned many businesses, residences, buildings… You were being interviewed to be Eddie Munson’s secretary. Eddie Munson is an alpha, and the boss of this gang. The owner. The leader.

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw the doors open, your head whipping to the side to see your boss walking in, ripping his blazer off, the smell of actual blood rushing into the room. All the omegas winced at the smell, as well as the other betas that were walking around with paperwork in their hands.

Your worry raised, unlike the other Omegas who were aroused or scared in the room, you were worried. Did something happen to him? Is the blood splattered on his shirt his own? Someone else’s? Your nose twitched as a sweet note of vanilla invaded you, and you saw Eddie walking by your desk, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Anything I need to catch up on?” His voice was low as he stood in front of your desk and you stood up as you tried to go back into your professional stance, shaking your head.

“No sir. I already knew that Kromstar’s dealership had to be sealed in the morning, so I took care of that.” You stood proudly, chin tilted up as you looked at your boss’s reaction. A small smirk was sent your way, followed by a single nod. You grabbed the paperwork from your desk and raised it towards him.

“Perfect. Good job my Rose.” He leaned forward, his hands reaching to hold the paperwork, but the tip of his index finger ran over yours and your breath left your lungs for a second as an electric shock ran down your spine. Your eyes locked with his as you saw his nose flare up slightly and then he took a step back from you.

“Do you– need me to get you some fresh clothes, Mr. Munson?” You kept your voice to a normal level, steady, professional. He shook his head as his eyes scanned your face, only to then look away and start walking towards his office.

“No, Chrissy already prepared stuff for me.” And like that, the scent slowly went away as he closed the doors to his office behind him. You turned your head to see the other omegas and betas looking at you and then returned to their business.

You sighed as you sat down again. Rose. His Rose. Eddie named his workers with flowers, but the only one that he called by her name was Chrissy. Steve, the male omega, he called Sunflower. Heather, the other female omega, he called Cosmo, and then Carol he called Carnation.

When you were named Rose you were surprised. You wondered what color of rose he pictured when naming you it. Was it pink? Red? White? A rosebud? A single rose? What colors were the other Omegas? Either way, your name caused a string of rumors that didn’t cease until a month later from your first day at your new job.

But he never referred to them as… his. You were the only one. You always wondered why.

You looked up to see Steve and Heather gossiping, and you wondered why you were never close to them. It was fairly civil, but you can’t say you shared a single lunch with them, nor with Carol. You guessed you were not part of their group because–

“Sunflower.” Chrissy’s voice made your head snap towards the big black office doors, her head peeking out. She sent a small greeting smile your way, which you reciprocated before she turned her head back to Steve, who was standing up from his desk so the Alpha knew she had his attention. “Stay after hours tonight.”

You heard a chirp coming from Steve’s way, the scent of lust filling the room as well as happiness. Heather’s scent soured as she received a shoulder wiggle from Steve, showing himself off. Your stomach twirled, moved all around, and you looked down at your paperwork, knowing your scent might be bitter.

You felt your body burn with anger, sadness, and jealousy, the omega inside of you wanting to let out a whine of distress. It was not fair. You were pretty sure you were the one who wanted him the most, you were sure of it… Six months you worked here, six months you’ve seen the other three omegas being called in for after hours, knowing damn well the Alpha was fucking them behind his office doors, and…

You were never called.

Not once. You came to the conclusion he did it to keep it professional with at least one of his secretaries, but– why did it have to be you? Why? His scent drives you crazy, so much so that after that first interview you went into a triggered heat, and you weren’t even near your heat date.

But you felt his stare. You felt it many times. You saw how his nose flared every time he came close to you, smelling you, taking in your scent just like you did with him. Your omega wanted to jump on the Alpha, and much more knowing he is a good man. He donates to schools and helps with the medical bills of many elderly people in the hospitals. Elderly people that have no one or very little. Not to mention how safe you knew you would be with someone like him. You and your pups would be cared for exceptionally.

Your Omega yearns to be submissive to this Alpha, to be bred by him, mated, protected… But Eddie can’t even see you as a random fuck. He sees you as just what you are. His secretary. You are nothing else but his dutiful, professional secretary. Nothing more, nothing less. You were the only secretary he didn’t fuck so that the job gets done, unlike the other three.

But later on, when you were already out of the office doors, you noticed you left your jacket behind. You would have not cared for it and just retrieved it the next day if it weren't for the fact that it was a friday, and it was your favorite jacket. So you went back up, all the way to the 23rd floor.

And god you wish you hadn’t.

The smell of sex filled your nostrils as you walked out of the elevator doors. His scent, spiked, aroused, strong, and fierce. You walked by the cubicles where a few betas were still typing away stuff, only caring for the job to be done. Guards stood by the door where your desk was, your office.

You were let in and you felt your knees weaken and tremble the closer you got to the desk, which was the closest to Eddie’s door. His office. You could hear the purring, the moaning, Steve calling Eddie’s name, and–

“Alpha– Knot me– Knot me, please–”

You felt like vomiting. You needed to get out of there. You needed to run. You needed to leave this place. Your hand snatched the jacket off the back of your chair and you rushed out of the doors and past all the cubicles. You didn’t want to think about it. You couldn’t bear to think about Eddie knotting someone.

As soon as the doors of the elevators closed, you let yourself whine and sob a couple of times as tears filled your eyes. Why do you feel so rejected? Nothing ever happened between the two of you. Nothing. The words were very little, and the most physical contact you had with him was the brushing of fingertips when he reached for something that was on your hand.

It didn’t make sense, but it might mean you found your scent mate… only that it’s one-sided. If it is that, you would have to leave the city. Leaving the job only won’t do the trick, you need to leave the city, fuck, even the state.

You felt your belly cramp less and less the more floors you went down and the less you could smell the aroused Omega and the feral Alpha. You can’t keep doing this. Maybe you need the distraction. You need someone else.

These six months you’ve been working here, there was this pull or this sense of respect that didn’t allow you to properly agree to dates or encounters with other people. Not even betas. You didn’t know why but you just felt like you needed to reject these advances. Your hands gripped your purse and zipped it open, taking out your cell phone and opening your Instagram.

Maybe this will help you feel better.

It did, yet it didn’t.

It did because Nancy was very sweet. The Alpha met you through Robin at a party once, and you chatted all night long, exchanging usernames on Instagram with one another. She messaged you a couple of times but soon after you started your new job and you didn’t feel the need to engage with her in such a manner any longer.

And when meeting with her she was kind, and respectful, and you were the one that had to initiate the flirting stance of the night out. Nancy was a good alpha. She looked like she could take care of you, so you didn’t mind when she asked if you wanted to go back to her place.

That’s when your mind couldn’t help but think of someone else when having sex with Nancy.

It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to imagine him, but you felt like if you didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to even suck her cock. You don’t know what to make out of it, but you wanted her to knot you. You wanted it so you could confirm if you had an unrequited scent mate situation, and by the looks of it, it seems you did… You didn’t let Nancy knot you. You backed out at the last minute.

Her knot bumped into your entrance a couple of times, but you couldn’t let it in. You just let out warning growls at her everytime it did and Nancy respected it. But, even amidst all of that, you at least had your thirst quenched. Even if a bit and with someone you didn’t truly want.

Now monday, back in the forsaken office you want to burn down to start a whole new torturous week. You were at your desk, putting your paperwork away as Carol talked to you from hers, steps away from yours.

“Someone had fun.” She snickers as she chews on her gum and you glance once at her and back down, Steve’s voice filling your ears.

“Carol, knock it off.” Out of the three omegas, Steve was the most tolerable one. You looked up at him and he gave you a nod and then looked back down at his papers. Carol scrunched her nose and then started writing down on her contracts.

You wondered if the three showers you took were not enough. You were sure it was enough. You didn’t have any marks on you, you told Nancy not to leave any. You sighed at how unprofessional this might make you seem in front of everyone. You tried taking the scent off but it seems it didn’t work and now everyone knows.

The iron scent filled your nostrils and you knew your boss got off the elevator. All of you got up from your desks to receive your boss, but your nose scrunched when you started smelling something bitter or pungent. The doors opened with Eddie, followed by Chrissy right on his heels. His hands were in his pockets as the four secretary omegas gave a nod and a greeting to their boss.

He was about to pass by you but he suddenly stopped. You tilted your head as you saw his nose flaring slightly. The scent in the room became a little suffocating, your knees feeling like they wanted to give up on you and it seemed that it was taking an effect on the other omegas because you could hear Heather whining in fear in the corner of the room.

You didn’t know what was going on, but then another scent joined in, spicy, alarmed. Chrissy was inspecting Eddie’s back and then she slowly turned to face you. Her eyes widened slightly as she took a deep breath in.

Your eyes were wide, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you saw Eddie slowly turning to face you. His eyes were black, pure black. You could feel your omega wanting to submit, to ask for forgiveness, but for what? You didn’t do anything wrong, so why is his anger directed towards you?

“Mr. Munson?” Your voice was small and worried, but you needed to know why he was looking at you like he wanted to… kill you?

“Mr. Munson, I think we should head inside.” Chrissy’s hand pressed on his shoulder as Eddie’s eyes kept scanning you, from head to toe. Did you do something? Did you forget to do paperwork on friday? Did you miss a client? No, it’s not like you… but who knows? You are human.

Eddie’s face got closer to yours as you stood there, looking at him as he towered over you, his presence bigger than this room, and you felt like you were being suffocated. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, his breath hitting your face as it came out of his nostrils in harsh puffs.

His face was tense, his jaw clenched, and a vein was popping out on his forehead. Then you heard a low rumble, a vibration and you realized that he was growling. Your boss was growling at you. You whined slightly now, knowing you had done something wrong. You didn’t know what but he was displeased with you, no, he was angry, furious with you.

“Sir–” Chrissy tried again, this time more alarmed, more pressure in her tone, but keeping her Alpha rank below Eddie’s. She sounded worried as she looked at you and then back at Eddie, and– was he going to fire you? What did you do?

Eddie growled loudly as a rough hand made your pen holder fly across the room and hit the wall with force. You gasped and jumped one step back at the sudden aggressiveness, never having seen your boss like this. You were scared, worried, alarmed, but you wanted to apologize, for whatever you did.

The male Alpha huffed once and marched into his office. Chrissy was breathing heavily and then looked at you, shaking her head to calm you down. You didn’t notice the whine that was leaving your throat until Chrissy tried to shush you.

“What– Did I forget to do something on friday?” You were trembling, and Chrissy shook her head and was about to press a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you, only to retreat before doing so.

“N-No… he– had a rough weekend. Please, don’t be alarmed omegas, just– Please, have a twenty-minute break and come back.” Chrissy gave you one last glance before she turned and rushed into the Alpha’s office. You looked at the other Omegas in the room and they were as confused as you but more scared. The guard nodded to you all towards the other door, and you wanted to barge into his office and ask if he was okay. Ask for forgiveness, or do something to make him feel better.

But as you were escorted out for your break, you started hearing things breaking inside his office as well as muffled yelling. You held a whine in as your body trembled and then you walked out of your office. You looked at the other three omegas who only crossed their arms at you with frowns on their faces.

“What the fuck did you do?” Heather asked and you shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I– I swear I don’t know, I– I did all my work on friday and I rechecked today and everything is fine?” Your heart wanted to explode and your stomach twisted with nerves and you needed to pace. You needed to let go of the energy that was consuming you. The omegas followed you as you walked towards the balcony to get some air, the murmurs of your other coworkers making your head throb. You didn’t need the speculations or people making more rumors about you. Not right now.

“You did something! Did you check properly?” Steve asked this time and you growled at them, taking them aback. Omegas hardly growled, only when purely distressed or displeased.

“I didn’t! Maybe it was one of you that lacked on their job to get their pussy wet with the boss and since I’m the only one that actually works, I get the fucking blame!” Your voice was loud, high-pitched, angry, and fed up. Carol cleared her throat and scoffed as she squinted at you.

“Don’t blame it on us. It’s not our fault he doesn’t want to touch a single strand of your head.” Your heart plummeted to the ground at that and Steve pressed a hand on Carol’s shoulder only for her to rip it out of his grasp and walk away.

You were looking down at the floor, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. You heard Steve and Heather mumble something to one another before walking away, and then all you could hear was the beating of your heart in your ears. What did you do? What have you done so badly, so wrongly, for him to get angry like this?

Will you get fired? Maybe… Fuck, what if you do get fired? But didn’t you want to? Wasn’t that one of the best decisions for you? You didn’t want to feel this anymore, this rejection, this pain in your gut. You don’t want to be near him any longer, not if you have to watch him be with others all the time. Watch him choose others before you. You can’t keep doing that to yourself.

So maybe if he fires you it is for the best. Whatever the reason might be. You would be able to move on at one point, leaving the city, away from him and his scent. Yes, it will hurt leaving Robin behind, but you can’t bear it. You can’t. Seeing him this angry at you, not only makes you feel little and useless, but also it adds up to the rejection. You feel unwanted, undesired.

You take your time, taking deep breaths before walking back. The other three already returned to their desks, but you took one more minute to yourself. You took a deep breath in before you walked through your office doors and you could hear your coworkers typing away, in silence.

The air was tense, the scent around you all was covered by sprays and blockers, yet you could still smell the bitterness, the sourness, the musk. You just wanted to head home. You needed to head home. Maybe you can call Chrissy and tell her you don’t feel well. Yeah, you’ll do that.

You walked towards your desk and slowly sat down on your chair. As soon as you did, Eddie’s door opened and Chrissy walked out, closing the door behind her. All the omegas snapped their heads to look at her, expectantly, except for you. You knew that when Chrissy walked out of Eddie’s office it meant–

“You’ll stay after hours tonight.” That. She always says that. Wait–

“Huh?” Your head snapped upwards to see Chrissy looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“You’ll stay after hours tonight. No questions asked, you cannot reject it. You must stay.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked at how she turned and walked back into the black doors, the guard moving away for her to enter. You looked at the door, and stared at it as if what just happened was a fantasy that happened in your head. There’s–

Your breathing accelerated as you looked down at the desk. This wasn’t like when he asked for Steve or Heather or Carol to stay, wasn’t it? You couldn’t smell anything, fuck, you couldn’t smell what he was feeling at all. You can still smell the bitterness despite the blockers in the room, but you don’t know if it is remnants of before or–

“Hey, hey, you need to calm down.” You didn’t notice Steve was in front of you with worry in his eyes as he rested his palms on your desk. You looked at him, frowning, lip trembling, and you didn’t notice the whines coming from your throat. Your eyes filled with tears as the anxiety consumed you, and you were in clear distress.

“I mean, Steve, she has every right to be like this, it’s not like he is calling her to do what he does to us.” Heather snickered on the corner, disguising her displeasure of you being called tonight, but also calm because the boss was not in a good mood at all. That comment didn’t make you feel any better, if anything, it made you feel worse.

The first time you are asked to stay after hours, and it’s because you might get fired or– killed? It looked like that. He looked like he was going to eat you or rip you to shreds, not sexually. It didn’t look like that for you at all, and the scent he was leaving was a clear giveaway.

“Heather, shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Steve bared his teeth slightly at the coworker and all you could do was stare down at your desk. You started frowning as you looked down at your papers. Everything is fine… You know it. You know everything you did was right and on time. Work wise? You were impeccable.

Your posture changed as you straightened up and took a deep breath in. You cleared your throat and gathered your papers and looked at your computer. You will recheck but, you know everything was fine. You looked at Steve and directed a soft smile his way.

“I’m fine. It was nice working with you Steve, I say this just in case we don’t see eachother after today.” Your voice became low, calm as your thoughts settled. Whatever you did, it wasn’t of your knowledge, or whatever someone else did and blamed it on you. You know you did everything right, so even if you’re scared… terrified, you will stand your ground.

Steve only cleared his throat and walked back to his desk as Heather and Carol looked back down to their computers as they shared one look. It wasn’t nice working with them, you weren’t going to lie to them, but Steve was the only one that helped you with stuff, despite him fucking your possible scent mate.

Now it was a matter of waiting, looking at your watch as the hours went by, and your nerves started eating away your intestines, your stomach, just everything. You felt like you were being consumed slowly but you had to keep your head straight. You were not going to be chewed for something you didn’t do, or a misunderstanding, or a rumor.

You might not return to your office tomorrow, so you started putting some of your stuff all together in your drawer, maybe someone will bring you a cardboard box for later on. Steve was looking at you from the corner of his eye, eyebrows frowned as he typed away.

And then, 6 PM arrived. Chrissy walked out from the black doors and looked at the other three Omegas with a sharp look.

“Leave immediately.” Your breath was taken out of your lungs as you heard her authoritative tone, her Alpha voice vibrating against the walls of your office. Steve gave you one last look before he got up from his chair and ducked his head as a goodbye. You stayed in your chair as you saw how the other omegas left the office giving you final glances.

Your heart was accelerated, wanting to break out from your chest and you felt the blood rushing through your ears like a waterfall. You looked at Chrissy and she turned to face the guard. Without a word, the guard that was on Eddie’s door walked out of your office, surprising you because the guards never left.

“Um… why is Geoffrey–”

“You must stay on this floor. The boss doesn’t want…” Chrissy bit her tongue as she looked at you with a frown. You didn’t know if it was stern, or worried, or a mixture of both. “Get inside his office once you do not hear anyone else. Good luck Rose.”

And then you saw Chrissy walking out of the door of your office. You sucked in a breath as you saw from the open door how all the betas were being commanded to leave, which never happened. There were always a few who stayed or did night shifts. Your breath was heavy as you realized Chrissy was clearing out the floor, leaving you and Eddie as the only people on it.

You heard the elevator ding many times as people left. You still couldn’t smell anything, and you didn’t notice you were scratching the wood of your desk from your anxiety. You sharpened your ear until no more dings came from outside. You gulped as you shakily stood up from your chair and looked at the big black double doors.

You stepped away and fixed yourself, wanting to appear unaffected or as professional as possible, not wanting him to know how anxious you were. You took a few steps towards his office, your heels clicking on the floor. You took a sharp deep breath in as your hand trembled, grabbing the door handle. You then opened it and– oh god–

The scent was strong, pungent, making your nose burn. It was a mixture of so many smells, including wood, lemon, ash, and leather? Musk? But you also noticed the hint of bitterness, of sourness. Strong and sharp. It was suffocating, yet– you could feel your belly turning, strongly, pulling you to him. You felt your body growing hot, just like it always did when you caught his scent but this time it was ten times worse.

You held your breath in order to concentrate on your task of walking inside, seeing his back turned to you, behind his desk, and looking out his big windows, going all the way to the very tall ceiling. His hair was tied up in a bun, wearing a black buttoned-up shirt with a loosened burgundy tie around his neck, with the sleeves rolled up just under his elbows and his black pants. He had a cigarette in his hand and you could see the smoke leaving him as it went over his head.

“Lock the door after you walk in.” His voice was demanding, not yet authoritative. You wanted to run away from this confrontation but you knew he would come in contact with you one way or another.

You slowly stepped inside, feeling like every step was one step closer to your doom, or to something unknown. You closed the door and took a deep breath in as you locked the door just as he ordered. Were you… going to die? Did you read something you shouldn’t have? You don’t remember anything that would have made you think you shouldn’t have, so–

“Come closer Rose.” His voice was strained, angry still. You gulped and followed his instructions, slowly taking steps closer to him until you were ten steps away from his desk. The scent was stronger and you felt like kneeling before him as you felt wetness start to pool inside your underwear. You were embarrassed, but maybe he won't notice if you don’t show it. Fuck his scent for making you this way, you might die right now, and all you can feel is being horny?

“Sir… What do you… need me for?” You asked, slowly and mostly submissive, to show him that whatever he says will go, at least for now. You heard a rumble, and you didn’t know if it was a groan or a growl. He took a puff out of his cigarette before speaking again.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Not really… Did I do something to make you this displeased?” It was a risky question, but someone had to break the ice for it.

“You did.” You felt your breath being knocked out of your lungs. Fuck, what did you do? What could you have possibly done? Whatever you did was no small thing, remembering how he threw your pen holder across the room.

“I– I checked everything I did on friday and I didn’t notice anything– Was it something my colleagues had to do that–”

“Did she knot you?”

Your mouth fell open as you looked at his back, your heart stopping completely at the question. How did he–?

“What?”

“I asked you a question, Rose, so you answer it accordingly.” And then your boss slowly started turning around, and you felt your blood leaving your body as his eyes, now all black, not a single speck of brown anywhere looked into your soul. You couldn’t see his irises from how dilated his pupils were. His features were clenched, eyebrows tense, and when he fully turned to you, you saw how his chest was moving quicker than normal because of his breathing. “Did. She. Knot. You.”

Your eyes looked into his again, noticing the anger, the rage, the desperation that lingers there. Your scent probably spiked right now because irritation coursed through you. How dare he? Why? You need confirmation that he has the information of your personal life, because, why the fuck would he need it?

“I’m sorry Sir, she?”

“Nancy Wheeler. 27. Journalist. Presented at the age of 15 as an Alpha, moved to the city of Chicago three years ago to pursue her career. She has two siblings, her father, and mother still alive, no Omega mated to her, so this is your last chance to answer. Did she knot you?” His voice was low, commanding, not yet authoritative in his Alpha tone, but it was coming to it. Your lip twitched at this man's audacity, not understanding the reason for the interrogation.

“With due respect, I don’t think my personal affairs are important at all.” And then Eddie’s hands slammed against the desk and your eyes widened when the Alpha’s teeth were suddenly bared, growling at you, the noise sending a wave of daggers across your entire skin.

“I CAN SMELL HER ON YOU!” His voice was loud enough that you felt like the walls shook from its vibration. Your heart was about to explode as you took a step backwards, your belly turning in fear as well as– arousal? Nerves? You couldn’t pinpoint it, but his scent was becoming stronger and stronger and it was making your mind turn hazy and your belly cramp slightly.

How dare he? How dare he ask something like that? Why does he care or why does he acknowledge it? Is it because Nancy’s Alpha scent was stronger than his? Was his ego crushed? You stepped back to the place you were standing, your face stern as you defied your boss, your senses on alert and sharp as you looked at him, trying not to glare to not create more discourse.

“I repeat, I do not believe my personal business has anything to do with you, sir. I do not meddle in yours, except work-related. All professional business.” Your voice was firm and assertive, yet there was a hint of shakiness behind it. Of course there was, Eddie was still baring his teeth at you, the air around you clenching your lungs, tightly, wanting to rip them apart.

He put out the cigarette on the ashtray, or one would say he smashed it into it from the force he sent his hand down. His nose scrunched up in distaste as he clenched his eyes tightly as if trying to contain himself from something. You were overwhelmed with all the Alpha pheromones that were around you, and you couldn’t understand the reason behind the question. You opened your mouth to speak again but he interrupted you with a rough tone.

“Why the fuck did you let another alpha touch you?” He asked but you didn’t know if he was asking it to you or if he was talking to himself because he was still not looking at you. He was clenching his eyes as his hands gripped the edge of the desk. You noticed the veins popping on his forearms, underneath the ink, you could still see the bumps thanks to the reflection of the soft lamps around you.

“Sir–”

“And you didn’t even take her scent off of you. You didn’t wash her fucking scent off your skin.” His eyes looked into yours again, his top lip twitching into showing off his teeth again but he was containing himself so it seemed. You gulped and looked down at your feet, trying to control your breathing as you felt yourself becoming smaller each second he stared at you.

“I– I tried. I thought I managed but– I’m sorry if it is unprofessional–” and you heard him let out a sarcastic chuckle, making you look back up at him.

“Unprofessional? Yes. You can call it that… so I’ll take that stench off of you.” Your eyebrows knitted together in the center of your forehead, not understanding the meaning of his words.

“You’ll– I don’t understand?” And the room became silent. You made a displeased sound when you felt some slick soaking your panties and it started being a little uncomfortable. You wanted to bolt out of here, you wanted to go away but you felt– you felt like you were being preyed on. You felt like fucking prey.

“I will take that putrid smell away. I will replace it with my scent.”

And you froze. You felt as if all the blood had drained from your body in just one instant. You couldn’t feel the tip of your fingers as you watched him as he rounded the desk, steps slowly taken, the sound muffled by the single large carpet against the wooden floor. You were breathing as best as you could as your mind processed his words.

His scent? Why? You two–

“We– Why?”

“Because you are mine.” And that made your blood come back to your veins, but it was burning now. His? You’re his? You saw how his eyebrow twitched at the change of attitude inside of you once again.

“Yours? I’m not yours, sir. I am free to do as I please… just like you are.” You saw his jaw clenching at your defiance as he stood in front of you, two steps away, towering over you. He smelled so good, but so strong, so dangerously strong. He squinted his eyes slightly at you as he scanned your body, and then back at your face.

“Time to change that. Strip.” You couldn’t process his words correctly in your brain. What did he say? Why–

“What–?” His eyes were staring into your soul as his hands clenched at his sides.

“Strip.” And you didn’t want to comply, you wanted answers first, or at least for him to realize how hypocritical he was being. Your body trembled with the need of submission but you prevailed, not wanting to fall for it.

“I don’t see the need to.” And that’s when you heard it, the growl, and his teeth were bared once more.

“I said, strip, Omega.” His voice, now authoritative in his Alpha command. You felt yourself become limp, your mind shutting off slightly from rationality and control. You could only tear up as your hands went towards the buttons of your blouse against your will. You wanted answers, you needed them, not do this.

His eyes watched you as you slowly undressed, and every try of you gaining control of your hands once again was useless. If it were another Alpha, you could have probably fought the command, but Eddie was your kryptonite. Now you are sure he is your scent mate, though you are not his. This is enough proof. Not being able to stop at all, even if there might be danger, that’s when your omega is in complete submission to THEIR alpha.

Your hands removed your blouse first, then you unzipped, and dropped your tube skirt, then got out of your shoes. You were not looking at him as you felt your eyes burning, your hands moving towards your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall down. The last piece of clothing were your black lace panties.

You didn’t realize you were trembling as your hand got under the elastic of your underwear, but a hand stopped you. A ringed, tattooed hand gently grasped yours and you felt yourself breathing again, for some reason feeling safe. You shortly realized it was him releasing calming pheromones towards you. His feelings were being a whiplash for you, not understanding the brutal change, not understanding if he wanted to intimidate you or rather calm you.

“You– You have your fun with the other omegas… why can’t I have my own?” Your voice came out small, but then you raised your head to look at him. His eyes were black, pitch black. His nose was flaring as he looked at you and his mouth was slightly open, and you took notice of his fangs being enlarged somewhat. You frowned at the display, at how– desperate he looked.

“I will ask… one more time…” His voice low, strained, and there was a hint of begging behind it. “Did she knot you?”

And your face twisted, your scent soured making his nose scrunch up, his eyebrow twitch as he scanned your features.

“Did you knot them? Sunflower? Carnation? All?” You hissed through your teeth, your displeasure known for once and for all, and then, the room felt as if it spun around you, oxygen was exchanged for his smell.

A loud snarl was heard from him, vibrating within himself and you swore you could feel it inside you as well from how intense it was. How alarming. How threatening. How empowering. How… possessive. It made you shiver, whimper, and look at him with eyes filled with uncertainty, fear, excitement, arousal, and nervousness– just a mix of many emotions.

And you knew he could smell you. You knew he could smell the slick, your juices just making a mess out of your thin thong, coming out from the sides and already dampening your inner thighs. You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t help how your limbs were trembling for his touch, and you didn’t have to wait long for it, just not how you expected.

Tattooed hands went towards the loosened tie around his neck and undid it in one single tug. Your heart skipped a beat as he put the tie in his mouth, biting onto it, while he grabbed your wrists, making you gasp at the sudden touch, but then– fear mixed with arousal. He held your wrists together in front of you with just one hand, while he used the other to wrap the tie around them, expertly, and then tying them up together.

It was tight, a small whimper getting stuck in your throat.

His right hand flew to the back of your head, clenching your hair in a warning and threatening grip, a hiss falling from your lips as he pulled your face closer to his. His hot breath falling on your lips like molten lava, his eyes long gone from rationality, and you know, you just know, you cannot defy him. Not now.

“On your knees.” He didn’t use his Alpha tone. He didn’t have to. Despite your fear, the twist in your gut, your dignity yelling at you at the back of your head to not do this, to not become one of his many toys just because his alpha pride was hurt, you still got on your knees. It was slow, and your eyes never left his as you sunk lower.

His hand left your head and went to undo his pants, and the zipper noise made your eyes move to the bulge that was in front of you. You couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to nuzzle your face against it, but you weren’t going to indulge in that feeling. You weren’t going to become putty, even if your omega was jumping happily, making you want to purr in delight and chirp because your scent mate was finally looking your way.

His tattooed hands, scarred even, pulled the zipper down and then his pants went downwards with a push. Your eyes were fixated on the wet stain that was over the dark blue hue of the fabric of his boxers. Your tongue tingled with the need of darting it out to lick on it, needing to taste it, to finally have his flavor in your mouth.

He could probably see it, how your eyes teared up, or clouded, pupils starting to dilate slowly, and how your own wetness was gushing out even more. You wanted to rip the tie off with your teeth, let your hands free to touch him, but– No. You cannot do this. It’s not fair. But it is what you have wanted all along, isn’t it? You closed your eyes to try to keep your brain to yourself, trying to control your body, at least regain a bit of it.

“Mr. Munson– I will not be one more for the collection.” You didn’t expect a low chuckle to escape him, but you could hear the angered growl behind it, expressing how disgusting that comment of yours was. Your eyes opened, looking up at him, only to see enraged eyes and bared teeth directed your way, which only made you tremble in fear, in anticipation, and in eagerness.

“You have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, My Rose.” His. Why is there so much anger coming from the Alpha that is now towering you? You cannot comprehend it. You cannot really understand it. His hands moved, you noticed, and then when your eyes went back to your front, your breath caught in your throat.

His cock sprung out and hit his pelvis as he pulled his boxers down enough to release it. It was thick. The tip was bright red, and it looked like it hurt. You couldn’t help yourself when your mouth started watering, seeing the drop of precum leaking out of the tip. You felt your saliva pooling on your tongue, your eyes fixated on it, and your body was suddenly set ablaze as your wrists tried pulling against the tie with no chance of success of untying yourself.

“Taste it.” Eddie’s voice was low, and commanding, and you didn’t really know if he was using his Alpha tone or not, but your body reacted instantly. Your tongue darted out, and the tip of it scooped up that drop of precum escaping him. You tasted it, mouth closed and if your mind was hazy before, it was now gone. Out of the window who you were before tasting him. Dead was the woman who could probably live without the need to know this taste.

Your eyes were closed as you moaned at how delicious he was. Everything made sense, puzzles were put together, that little earring you thought you lost was found again, you discovered the secret ingredient to a recipe you never got right. And then–

Your eyes opened, revealing that tears had filled them, slick dripping furiously down your inner thighs, body trembling, lip wobbling as you stared up at him. The Alpha that made you simply lose yourself.

“Please… Please…” You begged. You didn’t even need to probably, but you still begged. His hand went towards your head again, his fingertips softly digging into your scalp. His jaw was clenched, strained.

“Open, Omega.” Electricity rushed through your body at the command, at his voice calling you omega. He called you it. And how can you ever defy him? Not now. Not ever. Not after this.

Your eyes looked at the red tip in front of you, and you saw how his dick twitched, bobbing a little, as if anticipating your touch, your warmth. His hand was still on the back of your head, but was not pushing you. Not that it needed to.

Your mouth opened, tongue lolling out just slightly as you leaned forward. The tip touched your tongue first and then you kept going, finally taking him inside your mouth. A pleased growl vibrated through the room, and Eddie could only throw his head back in delight as your warmth finally started to engulf him.

Moaning is the only thing that could be heard from you the more you took him inside. Once you knew you couldn’t go further without choking, you moved your hands to help yourself only to whine at feeling them tied. You could only use your mouth on him, but it was no time to complain. There wasn’t any.

His grip tightened as you started bobbing your head, coating his dick in saliva, all over, slobbering it so much that it started running down the side of your mouth. You didn’t know it, but the Alpha before you was losing his mind, fighting against the animal that was inside of him.

Your moans helped with the vibrations around him, and you felt your entire body just burning inside out. You pulled away to be able to dip the tip of your tongue onto the slit of the head of his cock. He groaned loudly as he looked down at you and then you felt him guide you, which you obliged.

His cock went inside your mouth again, and you started moving faster, but not by choice. If it were your call, you would take your time to taste him properly, try to trace every ridge of his veins so that it burns into your memory because, you don’t know if you will ever have this opportunity again.

Even if your mind was knocked out of the park, you still remember how he has never called on you for months. How he slept with others and not you. How when the slight bit of his ego got damaged, he commanded you to be on your knees for him. So yes, you do not know if this will ever happen again.

So you’ll take this chance.

His hand guided you to move faster on him, your tongue slurping against the shaft, allowing him to slide in easily over and over into your mouth. Your pussy clenched with need around absolutely nothing. The scent of him filling you, sweaty, and with the distinctive little hints of cackling wood in the fire.

Your belly turned at hearing his grunts, willing your eyes to open and look up at him, still moving your head, swallowing him in. He was looking down at you with his eyebrows meeting in the middle, groaning, growling, grunting under his breath. He looked in pain, or was it desperation? You couldn’t figure it out, but it can wait, right now you just want to keep tasting him.

You closed your eyes again, and his hips started moving against your movements, making him go a little deeper, beginning to touch the back of your throat. You started feeling the beginnings of your gags, but you focused on breathing through your nose. His grip tightened at the back of your head and then out of nowhere, he pushed you into his thrust. You yelped, or rather choked a yelp in surprise, feeling the tip of his cock pushing further into your throat.

Your eyes started burning, raising your hands to grab onto his right knee, a silent plea to pull away before you start gagging. But at the same time you didn’t want him away, because your nose was now into his pubic hair, his scent stronger than ever and the omega inside of you was elated.

“Taking me so good in that little mouth of yours. Such a good omega for me.” His voice was strained but you could only purr at his praise, but that action made you lose concentration and you gagged on him, coughing, and his grip loosened for you to pull away. You gasped for air as he got out of your mouth with a pop. You breathed heavily as you felt tears running down your cheeks, looking up at him with a lost look in your eyes.

“Did you say that to them as well?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. Even in your delight, it seems the rejection you suffered these past months was not easy to forget. Not even if you were in the one thing you have wanted to experience all this time.

He was looking down at you in disbelief. He thought he was clear enough, but he was never good with words, and his actions could be better. He snarled down at you, his fangs showing in displeasure, but you didn’t back down and you hissed at him. Your omega wanted answers, defying the Alpha towering over you, and Eddie was taken aback by it.

You felt possessive, needing to know if he had knotted your coworkers, if he had called them omegas, if he had called them sweet yet nasty names. You felt this was your Alpha, and you were angry, saddened, disappointed. He wasn’t yours, but you certainly felt he was, and this is your excuse for the way you’re reacting.

“Dense as fuck. Cute, but aren’t you a dumb little thing?” You were stunned at his insult but you winced when he dug his fingertips into your scalp, pulling you up on your feet once more, and then he continued talking “-- let me do to you things I didn’t do with the rest.”

His lips were on yours in a frenzy, making you gasp in surprise, not expecting him to kiss you at all. He didn’t seem like the man to be keen on kissing, because most of the time people thought of it as intimate, or caring. Maybe he was not one of those people and you were completely wrong about him, because the fact is– You don’t know him at all.

But how could you complain when he didn’t care that you just had him in your mouth? His lips were hungrily devouring yours, tasting himself, and you. He groaned into the kiss, his chest rumbling in delight, resembling a purr that only made you whimper in need, your hands reaching up to grab onto his shirt. Your wrists started to hurt as you kept tugging at them to be able to touch, to feel more, but it seemed that he didn’t intend to take the tie off.

His teeth bit onto your bottom lip, and you winced as he tugged on it before pulling away. Your eyes fixated on him as he licked his teeth with his tongue and you could see the red tint on them. You were bleeding and he was moaning at the taste of it, which only made the slick overflow and run down your legs more than before.

You whined in need as you felt a cramp punching you in your belly. The need of his knot resembled that of a heat, but you knew you were not due yet. The last one you had, you asked for a week off, and it was a month ago. You had to wait for another month for your next heat, so you didn’t understand why you were cramping.

Was it because of him? Was it just his mere scent and touch enough to induce you into a placebo of a heat? Into the feel of it? He was clearly your scent mate, there was no question now. There were no doubts. To make you feel like a bitch in heat at any time of the month, that is only something scent mates are able to do.

His eyes found yours as you licked your bottom lip, tasting the iron of your own blood. It wasn’t a deep or long cut, but it was still a small one. His chest rumbled as he took a sharp intake of breath in, smelling you, your arousal, your slick. His eyes closed for a second as you stared at his features, wanting to grab onto his face and kiss him again, but– you were not able to.

“I need to fucking taste you.” You gasped at his words and then you were guided towards his desk. You saw him just throw everything on the floor, including important paperwork. You knew it was important because it was the same thing you have been working on the last week. Once the desk was cleared and he turned to face you again, you opened your mouth to complain, only to be interrupted by his hand gripping your bicep, tightly and pushing you against the desk, your hip hitting the edge of it.

You whimpered in pain, knowing very well that it would leave a bruise on your skin. Your breath got caught in your throat when his hands pressed on your waist and lifted you off the ground in order to place you on the desk. His breaths were heavy, looking at you with intensity and purpose. A shiver ran down your spine when his digits dug into the skin of your waist, fingernails seemingly sharper as it scratched your flesh.

A yelp escaped your lips as his hands pushed on your shoulders, making you fall back, laying down on the desk and quickly, his hands moved to your knees in order to spread your legs for him. You whimpered as you could tell there was a string of your slick connecting both your inner thighs, the cold air making it obvious. Tears of embarrassment filled your eyes as you turned your head to the side, hiding your face behind your tied hands.

“Don’t you dare fucking hide your face from me.” You didn’t listen, not caring for the warning growl he directed your way. Suddenly your hands were engulfed by a singular larger one and pushed upwards, over your head, your knuckles slamming against the hardwood of the desk. Your breathing hitched as your head looked back at him, a piercing and threatening gaze as he bared his teeth for your submission.

His eyes went towards your breasts, and without a second to waste, he dove downwards, taking your right nipple into his mouth. Your body jerked at the touch, and you bit your bottom lip to hold back a moan, only to whimper in pain as you remembered you had a cut. You realized he did it on purpose so you wouldn’t be able to bite onto anything to hold back your noises.

His tongue swirled on your perked nipple, making your stomach jump at the attention, his scent spiking up with a hint of sweetness, delight. An appreciative growl, a low purr vibrated in his throat at your taste, at your reaction to him. His free hand went to rub your left nipple, his calloused fingertips rough to the touch, and then he nipped on your right one, making you gasp as your back arched, his hand holding your wrists tightening.

He pinched and bit and sucked on your nipples like a man starved, like this was the one thing he had been dreaming about for an eternity. Your eyes widened in the haze of your lust as you saw him rubbing his neck against your breasts, passing his scent gland all over. He was marking you, putting a claim on you that you didn’t think he deserved even if you wanted it and wanted to chirp in contentment.

“Sir–”

“Alpha.” He demanded and your eyes clashed with his again. He was right on your face, eyes dark as he asked you to call him the one thing you have been wanting to call him the moment you smelled him six months ago. Why now? Should you comply? Should you call him what he wants, needs?

“A–A–” You tried, but you knew that the moment you called him that way, you were going to enter in a mild state of a hivemind. Your rationality will fade slowly, only caring for the knot of the Alpha that was towering over you right now. His knot, his scent, his bite. You felt his hand leave your wrists but before you could lower them, his hand grabbed your chin roughly, making you pucker your lips as you felt the rumble in his chest.

“I’m your Alpha, Omega, and you will call me as such.” He spat through his teeth and you could only whine, which got cut short when a moan replaced it. His hips pressed against yours and you could feel his cock pressing against your clothed, wet and throbbing cunt. You felt yourself clench at nothing. Absolutely nothing. You were fucking desperate.

“Y–You… are not mine… and I’m not yours.” Your voice was muffled by your puckered lips and he only hissed at you in complete displeasure, in disgust towards your words.

“We’ll change that tonight. Once and for all.” He removed his hand from your breast and held onto the elastic of your thong. You gasped in pain as he pulled, the lace digging into your skin the more he stretched it until you heard a rip. You hissed at the burn the pull left on your hip, and then his hand left your face, letting you move your jaw freely once more.

Your mind raced at his words, not knowing what he meant, looking at the ceiling as if it would whisper the answer to you, whisper the meaning of this whole act towards you, but your body jerked out of its trance when you felt his tongue running from the middle of your chest and downwards, tasting your sweat.

Your back arched as you held a moan in, trying not to bite onto your bottom lip when he pressed the tip of his tongue onto your belly. He was closer to where you had been wanting him the most for so long. You should stop this, but can you? Do you even have the willpower to do that? The answer was simple when you felt like puking at the idea of stopping him at all.

You felt his breath hit your pussy, your ripped thong still dangling on your right inner thigh. You shivered since the air made the wetness become cold, and you put your hands on your chest, not knowing where to place them. You heard him inhale deeply, a low rumble being heard from him.

“You smell so delicious… so fucking good My Rose.” You whined at the name, wanting to tell him to call you Omega, just like he demanded you to call him Alpha. You needed to hear it again, for your own sanity before you became someone that does not know the word ‘dignity’.

“I–” You couldn’t even start talking that his hot tongue licked your slick off your inner right thigh first, and he moaned in pleasure. Your eyes widened at the feeling of it, but mostly at the sound that came out of him, and it prompted your pussy to clench and more slick to come out on a string and down towards the table below you, at the edge of it.

He licked your left inner thigh now, slurped on it and then sucked on your skin, taking your cold juices into his mouth. Your breath was stuttering at the feeling as your pussy clenched and clenched, and you wanted to yell at him, to please touch you, lick you, eat you, just anything–

And your eyes widened when he flattened his tongue all over your slit to take a long lick from it. It felt divine, you were finally in bliss as your body felt like it was in flames. It felt as if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you, but it was a temporary relief. Unbeknownst to you, your boss was trembling at the taste of you as his dick twitched in absolute need.

The resemblance of a purr could be heard in the room, not coming from you, but from him. His hands dug into your inner thighs, fingertips marking you as he stared at your pussy, his breathing becoming slightly erratic the more he looked at it. And then, he didn’t hold back.

He went in, starved, desperate, his lips circling around your aching clit and sucking on it as he kept your legs spread for him. You gasped at the feeling and finally let a moan escape your lips, but Eddie was not even listening. You could smell his scent becoming stronger than before, and you couldn’t help but purr at the notice of high arousal, of pleasure, and it was all because of one lick on your pussy.

His tongue started lapping in between your folds, running all over and slurping all the slick that just kept coming out of you. He was moaning into you as you arched your back at every flick to your clit. He was making the most obscene sounds against you and you were loving it. You felt him pull away from you, a growl of pleasure escaping him and you wanted to look down but you couldn’t use your elbows to push yourself up to do so.

“You taste so good. So fucking good. I’m addicted, I knew I would be, but jesus fuck–” His tongue went back on you, a moan leaving you as he licked your clit and sucked on it to create that amazing friction you ached for. What does he mean? What does he mean by ‘he knew’? Did he want to do this to you before?

“Why– Why didn’t you ever–” You gasped when you felt his tongue sliding inside of you, your back arching towards the ceiling and the small of your back aching at the hardness of the desk below you. Your body was lit on absolute fire, burning you from inside out, not caring if you died in the process of it. It was almost unbearable.

He moaned loudly into you, his dick leaking precum each second that passed, twitching in need at the feel he has around his tongue. He wants to feel the fluttering of your walls that are on his tongue, around his cock. His nose rubbed against your clit as he shook his head a bit at you. He pulled away to run a finger over your slit, covering it in your juices.

“Look at it… So pretty for me. So ready to receive her Alpha.” Your pussy clenched on nothing at his praise, a purr vibrating in your throat as your hips moved against him, making the Alpha smirk in victory. “You want that, My rose? Want me to be your Alpha?”

You didn’t know if he was messing with you or not. How many times did he use this as his dirty talk when fucking Steve? Carol? Heather? How many times did he say these things to them? How many times have they fallen for this trick?

“Don’t– Don’t play with me.” A warning snarl was sent your way and your back arched as he roughly introduced his middle finger inside of you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I’m going to make you beg for my knot. I’m going to hear you screaming for me. I’ll make sure of this.” His finger twirled upwards as he started thrusting in and out of you in short yet striking movements. Your soft spot was rubbed on, over and over again, and the moans were coming out of your mouth without any self control.

Your mind started becoming fuzzy the more pleasure you felt, the more slick that came out of you, and the more he moaned against you at each flick of his tongue on your clit. You didn’t want to comply with his orders, but you couldn’t fight your omegan instinct much longer.

“Oh– fuck!” You yelled out as you felt his ring finger join his middle one, his tempo increasing as he sucked on your clit, and the gushing sounds of your juices could be heard around the room, mixing with your moans, with his groans, and the smell of pure arousal was intoxicating and just making the both of you feel as if you were high.

The coil in your belly started turning, wildly, and you knew you were going to have a strong one. The one person you consider ‘Your Alpha’ was touching you the way you’ve always wanted, and by him and him only. How could you not purr? Chirp? Moan loudly?

Your hands went down to grab onto his hair, who had the bun already a bit messy from his movements, and even with your wrists tied, you managed to cling to him. He moaned into your pussy and your walls started clenching all around his fingers and that’s when you felt him add his index finger, your eyes widening at the stretch, but you felt a certain relief, like a wave of cold air washing over you.

“You need to be ready for my knot. C’mon Omega, cum around your Alpha’s fingers.” You moaned when he called himself your Alpha. As if it were true. As if he truly was just yours and for a moment you believed him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the loud squelching of juices even more depraved than before.

“Ed–Ed–” You stuttered out in between moans only to receive a growl in response and then you yelped as pain and pleasure mixed as he bit your clit, and even if it was gentle, it was still a sensible area. It was a warning, a threat to comply with his previous order.

“Say it.” And he twisted his fingers upwards as he made short thrusts yet quick and you felt your belly about to explode, your fingers digging into his hair as you pushed his head into you. Your knees were now bent, and you saw them tremble on the sides of his head. Your body started to shake as your mouth fell open and your eyes started going to the back of your head.

“A–Alpha!” Your orgasm crashed on you like a train, shaking you all over, short circuiting your brain and leaving you gasping for air as stars filled your vision. Eddie only cursed under his breath as his mouth latched onto your clit to help you ride your orgasm out, your pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice, and your slick was just running down, dripping from you.

He moaned at the taste of your orgasm, different to your normal slick. It was sweeter, tastier, and more intoxicating. Your grip loosened once you felt yourself stop trembling wildly, your walls unclenching from around his fingers as you slowly came down from your climax. Your breathing was heavy, feeling drained from how hard your orgasm was just now. You called him Alpha. You gave in.

Your eyes were closed as you felt him leave your clit, and slowly pulled his fingers out from you, making an involuntary whine escape your throat at the loss of him. You felt defeated. You gave him what you didn’t want to give to someone who only sees you as one more notch in his belt. Another Omega he knotted.

Your nose scrunched up as the air around you smelled way too intense, so much that you felt it prickle your nose. You couldn’t quite identify what it could be, but you felt like the appropriate word would be, desperation. Your eyes opened and you saw Eddie looking down at you, your slick all over his mouth, his fangs enlarged, his pupils blown out, and–

Your eyes widened as realization hit you. You were in the presence of an Alpha that had a triggered semi-rut. Your eyes went down to his still exposed pelvis, and his dick was larger, and just purely red and pulsing with need. Precum just oozed out from the tip and dripped down the shaft, and it was all for you.

And your mind was gone.

“A– Alpha…” You whimpered as your hivemind took over. Your irises were gone from how wide your pupils were, and your slick was overflowing the edge of the desk and falling onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. You raised your knees towards your chest, letting you show off your pussy to him, presenting yourself in a semi mating press.

He licked his lips as he looked down at you, his chest moving up and down as he hissed through his teeth. Your Alpha, for some reason, you felt like he was fighting against something. It felt as if he was trying to fight off the rut. But you didn’t want him to. Maybe he knots you, and breeds you, hopefully. You want a pup with him, a pup from your scent mate, yes.

“Please, Alpha, my Alpha…” You begged and that was enough for Eddie to come out of his trance, his hands moving to the back of your knees for support as he moved his hips forward, and his cock ran over your slicked folds, making you moan desperately as you salivated in your mouth. “More, more, more–”

“Yes my Omega. My beautiful Omega… My Rose, your Alpha will give you more. Always.” His tip caught on your entrance and you gasped and you showed your Alpha your wrists, begging for him to take them off so your hands could touch him properly.

“I need to touch you, please, I’ll be good, I promise!” He immediately worked on the tie, yanking it off, probably ripping it apart in the process, and your hands shot up, trying to unbutton his shirt, whining with need to see, touch, feel his skin. His hands grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and he pulled, the buttons snapping and the shirt was ripped open, a breath of relief leaving his lips.

Your eyes scanned the tattooed chest, just a few tattoos here and there, scars that littered all over his stomach as well. You could hear your heartbeat into your ears, your body setting on fire at the sight of the layer of sweat covering his skin. Your hands, now with painful markings around their wrists but you could care less about that now, went forward to touch his stomach.

Fingernails scratched onto the flesh as another thrust of his hips made the tip enter you for just a second, a desperate whimper leaving your lips as you looked up at him with a pleading look. Why isn’t your Alpha taking you? Does he not want you? Are you not as pretty as the others? Your belly cramped, making you clench your eyes as pain shot towards your entire body.

“She didn’t knot you, didn’t she?” Your eyes shot open at the question and you looked at the man towering over you as his grip tightened underneath your knees. You wanted to tell him the truth, comply, but you were also feeling betrayed, used, and played with.

“D-Did you knot them?” Your voice was small and shaky, knowing you weren’t in the position to question the Alpha. You were in a vulnerable state, completely open for the kill.

And with a loud growl, the biggest one you heard him give yet, he seethed himself inside of you in one powerful thrust.

You threw your head back as you shrieked at the sudden stretch, at the sudden pressure and the pain. It wasn’t great, but it was still painful, yet, your cramps stopped, just a little bit. They stopped stinging like knives, leaving a pain that can only be calmed by a knot. His knot. Tears ran down your cheeks as you gasped for air, your mouth open while you stared at the ceiling, and he bottomed inside of you, inch by inch.

He was big, the biggest you’ve ever had and it felt good, yet painful even with the foreplay. You pissed him off with your response, and you knew it because you could still hear him growling inside of his chest, groaning at the feel of you around him.

His pelvis clashed against yours and you guided one of your hands towards your belly and you could swear you could feel him when you pressed. He was too deep inside of you and– and– you needed him to move. He needs to move. Your cramps are coming back as well as the cloudiness of your mind.

“P-Please Alpha, move–”

“I won’t move until you tell me.” His voice came out through his teeth as he looked down at you. More tears ran down your eyes as you tried to move your hips against him and he snarled at you in warning. “Tell me!”

“She didn’t! I couldn’t! The only– The only knot I want is–” And a sob ripped out of you as you looked at the man above you. It wasn’t fair, to be in this state and having no control, and knowing that after this, it would be forgotten, a fling of the moment because his ego got smashed.

“Is mine. The only knot you want is mine… And it’s the only one you’ll ever get from now on.” And his hips reeled back, only to slam themselves against you once again, making you choke up on a moan, your breath being knocked out of you instantly, the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part inside of you.

He felt divine, the burning of the first thrust slowly dissipating the more he moved his hips, going in and out of you as you adjusted to his size. The cramps were obscured by the waves of pleasure that your body started to feel, your limbs becoming limp for him to maneuver however he liked.

His fingertips were bruising your skin and his eyes were fixed where the two of you were connecting over and over again, and he grunted in pleasure at the sight, seeing himself disappear inside you, filling you up and feeling your cunt squeezing him, friction burning him from head to toes.

“Ah–” You gasped into your moan as he straightened up to pick up the pace, pulling his cock all the way out, leaving the tip inside, only to then go back in at a steady pace. Your hands flew to the edges on each side of the desk, trying to ground yourself as your mind reeled, your Omegan pheromones only making the Alpha in the room even more feral.

“So good, fuck, you feel so good baby. So, so, so fucking good.” He hissed out, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, a strained look on his face as his jaw clenched, still looking down at his cock going into your pussy, and he could see how your slick overflowed all around him.

You chirped at the praise as you bounced on the desk at each hit of his hips against yours, moans coming out of both your mouths and your rationality shut off once more as another cramp suddenly hit your belly. You weren’t being satisfied. Your needs were not being met and you were becoming restless.

“M-More…” You whimpered and he only tsked as he kept the same pace, not relenting to your begging.

“More what?” He knew exactly what you wanted, and he was playing with you. Tears of exasperation filled your eyes as you moved your hips in retaliation, making him hiss at you from the sudden action.

“More please? Please Alpha… I need– Faster, rougher– It hurts, it hurts–” And you were referring to that in so many ways. How your cramps hurt right now because your body needs and requires his knot, or how your whole soul hurt these past months knowing he never chose you for this before. He chose others, right in your face.

“Anything for my dumb little omega.” You didn’t know why he was insulting you, but you had no time to think. Your eyes widened as you gasped, followed by pleased mewls and loud moans as his hips started snapping against yours, the slapping on skin bouncing on every wall and bookcase, echoing thanks to the tall ceiling above you.

You now realize why he made everyone leave the entire floor.

His pace was rough, deep and fast, fucking into you desperately and your fingernails dug into the wood of the edge’s of the desk as you felt your insides being basically rearranged by him. Your cramps were still there but getting his cock inside of you helped somewhat, the pleasure overpowering it at times. You were loud, crying your moans out, your breaths, your huffs, and the yelling of his name.

His eyes were fixated now on your body, how it moved up and down thanks to his movements, your tear stained face, your open mouth that only let out filthy sounds, mumbling his name on the low in the haze of it all. You felt yourself start to flutter around his dick, the abuse against your g-spot making it an easy climax from the overstimulation. New tears prickled your eyes as your body jerked at every thrust, your belly coiling up, causing another cramp to happen. You whined loudly as your hips started meeting with his thrusts, desperately.

“Please, please, Eddie, my Alpha, more–” You were begging, pleading, imploring him to help you, because you were feeling good, but you weren’t at the same time because you needed more, your body still unsatisfied. You knew what it wanted, and it wasn’t just his knot. You wanted his bite.

“Tell me what you want.” You mewled as his thrusts turned deep, his hips coming to a slower pace and he circled them against you. You didn’t want to tell him, it is too embarrassing, knowing he is only doing this just for lust, and that he has done it with the rest, many times. Suddenly, a cry tore out from your mouth and you looked at Eddie with his teeth biting into your right calf. Your body jerked at the sudden bite, and your hands flew in reflex to try to grab him, but you weren’t strong enough to push yourself up and towards him.

“It hurts– Stop–” He growled as he pulled away from your skin, blood at the corner of his mouth, teeth glistening with a crimson hue. You looked at the bite, at his mark in your flesh and you chirped at the sight, wanting the same mark around your mating gland. It looked so pretty, so perfect, and it felt like you were owned. He hissed at you and his hips came to a halt, bottoming out inside of you.

“Tell me what you want. I won’t continue until you tell me.” His jaw was clenched, the vein on his neck popping out from how much he was holding himself back from continuing your very destruction. You whined once more as you felt the burning of his bite on your calf, a drop of blood oozing out.

“I– I can’t– Not when you knotted… the others– embarrassing, Alpha, it’s embarrassing–” You were sobbing now, the pain from the past six months rushing back to you in a wave, clashing against the happiness you feel now, making you a bit dizzy from the mix of emotions.

You heard him sigh and you dared to look at him through your tears, and he was looking down at you with a pained look. Why is he looking at you like that? Maybe it’s pity? Or maybe he feels sorry for how dumb you are? How naive? Or maybe–

“Oh my Omega… I have never knotted any of them.”

Your eyes fully opened at that, your heart thrumming in your chest as your body shook with excitement against your own will. What did he say? You saw his tongue darting out, his hand caressing your calf gently and pushing it towards his mouth so he can lick the wound clean. He side eyed you as he did this action, making your pussy clench around him, making the both of you hiss, remembering the position you are in.

“But– But I heard–”

“And I never complied.” He took his hands off your calf and the back of your left knee to lean forward. Your breathing was erratic, your hands immediately flying to hold onto his shoulders to pull him closer. His hands caged you in, one on each side of your head as he looked down at you. “-- I couldn’t comply.”

You blinked with confusion and doubt in your eyes. You wanted to believe him, you really wanted to, but–

“Why?” Was the question flying out of your mouth and he leaned down towards you, his lips finding purchase on yours and you could only purr out of instinct, your heart exploding with happiness and joy inside your chest, trying to take the spotlight off of the thunder raging in your head.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your legs around his waist, pushing him into you. You both groaned at the action, making him pull away from the soft peck, his pupils back to being completely dilated and you moaned as his cock twitched inside of you. A growl escaped him as he quickly wrapped his arms around your frame and lifted you off the desk, a gasp leaving your lips and your grip tightened all around him.

You knew his instincts kicked in again, his mind clouded once more, but the knowledge that he never knotted the others was starting to settle in your head, and it was slowly making you go back to that state of mind where the only thing that mattered was being bred and knotted by the Alpha that was holding you tightly in his arms.

You felt yourself being lowered and the carpet hit your back, your eyes finding the ceiling once again. His hands grabbed onto your knees and he pulled them away from himself, making you untangle your legs from his waist. He bared his teeth at you as you didn’t let go of his shoulders, and you quickly complied, submitting yourself to him.

“Good Omega. My Omega.” He suddenly pulled out from you as he kneeled back and you whined with a sob, lifting yourself with help of your elbows to look at him.

“NO! Alpha, please, I need your knot, please– Why are you doing this? I–” His hand pressed against your chest and pushed you back down, snarling at you to let him work. You gasped when he grabbed onto your knees, keeping them apart, but then roughly pushing them up towards your chest, and you felt your hips rising from the ground, bending your body slightly.

His knees were now on each side of your hips as he leaned forward, towering over your frame, his cock twitching and your eyes could see the base of his cock pulsating, ready for his knot to pop. You purred and salivated at it, wanting it, desiring it, needing it and then you realized–

You were put in a mating press.

His cock went in with one harsh thrust, and you swear you could feel him at the back of your throat as you threw your head back. Your hands grabbed onto the carpet below you for some grounding, but you only let yourself smile in pleasure, in bliss, as you felt him burn inside of you.

His knuckles were white from how hard his grip was on your knees to keep you in that position. A position that helps with fecundation. He groaned loudly when you clenched around him, your climax coming back to you as if it had never left moments ago. Your belly ached, cramped, turned, but most of all, it burned. It was burning you with the need of release, the need to be filled, the need of him.

His thrusts started quick and powerful, knocking the breath out of you at each jerk, the carpet burning your back as you rubbed it back and forth. You couldn’t care less. Not the burn of the back or the pain of your wrists or the bite on your calf. He could hurt you, bend you, break you, and you would be fine with all of that. At least, you mean something to him that way. Something different than the rest.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. You’re fucking mine.” He growled, over and over again while he fucked into you like a madman, like an animal. He was sweating, your eyes following every drop, his hair clinging to the sides of his face, and he was the most beautiful person in this whole wide world. He is calling you his, maybe thanks to his small triggered rut, but you had no time to feel the pain of that realization yet.

“Alpha, it feels so good. Fill me up, please, pretty please–” You didn’t recognize your voice. Needy, dripping with lust and pleasure, and you don’t remember a single time you talked like this. Not even when you shared your heats with your ex. You never begged like this. This is what a scent mate does to someone. It turns you fucking stupid.

The slapping of skin was filthy, wet sounds following them because your slick was being produced at each thrust of his. It was probably a mess, and you know it because you turned your head to see the edge of the desk you laid on moments ago, and the side had your slick dripping down in a single streak towards the floor, and a small pool of it formed at the foot of the desk.

His thighs were drenched in you, and you moaned loudly at the thought, your eyes returning to meet his. He moaned your name under his breath and you trembled at the sound of it. He called you by your name, not rose, not omega. Your name. It made your belly come closer and closer to the edge, pussy fluttering and clenching all around him as he continued his powerful thrusts.

Your vision became blurry as tears mixed with how cockdrunk you became, but you could see a thin silver necklace dangling from his neck, back and forth. Your nails dug into the carpet underneath you as your breath picked up a pace, feeling the coil in your stomach and belly turn wildly, your orgasm threatening you to explode at any second.

“Alpha– Alpha– I’m–” And he grunted as your eyes widened with a surprised gasp when you felt the beginning of his knot start to hit your entrance. You could feel it popping in and then back out, his teeth bared and he finally looked at you, a yellow glint flashing in his eyes as he stared down at you.

“I’m going to knot you. I’m going to knot you and breed you, over and over and over again… And I’m going to mate you.” You didn’t know if you were making it up, you didn’t know anymore. It sounded way too good to be true– “Oh, you don’t believe me?”

Your eyes widened, shock washing over you as you tried to talk, only for loud cries to escape your lips when his thrusts became hard, rough, and the knot started swelling more and more, making it a little painful when it started popping in and out of you. Your mind was a haze, the only need being his knot. His knot. His knot.

“Alph–” You couldn’t talk because of this position, which was a bit straining, and the air was just simply knocked out of you at each thrust. You couldn’t breathe properly, feeling as if you were going to pass out. His teeth were now bared, fangs just slightly enlarged, snarling as he huffed in pleasure.

“You’re mine. All mine. Forever mine, my omega.” Your pussy clenched at the words, your mind no longer your own, and you cried out as your climax finally hit you, tightening all around his cock and now, his knot swelling instantly, impossible to pull out without hurting you, so he braced himself on his knees to push deep into you, and then he moaned loudly as his breath trembled when he locked himself inside of you, his cum filling your belly.

Your pussy milked him as your cramps finally stopped, leaving you in the stars. Your trembling was intense as you felt him spill inside of you and the more you clenched, the more cum he let out. It was never ending, the both of you moaning, groaning, and purring. He moved his hips once, a whimper leaving your lips and a growl rumbling in his chest.

He let go of your knees, his breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring as he leaned forward, his upper body bending as one hand cradles the back of your head, while the other holds your left bicep. His eyes clashed with yours, breaths intertwining between the two of you, chests heaving as the scents inside the room made your head spin.

He leaned down and you felt him lick the scent gland on your neck, his cock twitching inside of you and you swore you could feel more cum leaking out from him. You groaned, your eyes closing as he tasted you. His chest rumbled as he pressed his own scent gland against yours, true to his word. He cleansed the other alpha’s smell from you, replacing it with his own. He then proceeded to scent your mating gland, which only broke you.

He marked you in ways he probably doesn’t understand. After this, the two of you will go back to boss and secretary. You will have to leave, leaving this, leaving him behind you. Turn him into your past. You will probably have to go to an omegan therapist after this, and you would also leave Robin–

And the world stopped.

Everything. The universe. The stars. Your own breath. Your heart. Time itself. What…?

And then, fire. Fire spreading all over you coming from your mating gland. Your mating gland that was suddenly bitten into by the alpha that had his knot deep inside of you. You were bitten. He bit you. He claimed you. You were now his.

A scream ripped out from your chest as another orgasm came crashing out of nowhere, clenching around him like a vice, milking him even more. He moaned into your skin, the hand on the back of your head holding you tightly as you shook underneath him. You didn’t understand anything. He was telling the truth. Eddie… Your– Your Alpha. He was your alpha now. For real.

He pulled away from you with a gasp for air, your blood all over his lips and teeth. You could feel his pleasure. His joy. His desire. His fear. His nervousness. His ecstasy. His delightfulness. Everything. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your shock still apparent, even if the kiss sent a million jolts of electricity through your body.

He pulled away with a chuckle and he proceeded to lean down again, pushing your head into his own mating gland this time. Your eyes were lost as you wondered what he wanted, his smell slowly bringing you down to earth once more, time moving again, the stars and the universe continuing their course.

“Bite me. Bite me back Omega.” Surprise was displayed on your features as soon as he said those words. It wasn’t common for omegas to bite their alphas back to seal the bond, the mating process, but people say it’s for the bond to be permanent, for eternity, for the mates to find eachother in this time and the next.

Your hands went towards his back, your nails dragging across his shirt, he never took it off. You could feel how damp it was thanks to the sweat, clinging to his body, and now– your eyes filled with tears, knowing now that he also knew you were his scent mate. This was never one sided. You have a lot of questions to ask him, but now… right now–

Your small fangs pierced through his mating gland.

He gave a small whimper as you felt iron filling your mouth. His blood. His scent. He was now all over you, and inside of you, in every sense and way possible. You moaned at his taste when you felt him twitch inside of you once more, his knot pulsing. You couldn’t believe it. As you retreated your mouth from him and laid your head back down on the carpet, you finally smiled.

He looked down at you, and you knew he was hoping you weren’t mad at him. He took your liberty and freedom in a single night thanks to his jealousy. To his possessiveness. To his fear of losing you. Your right hand moved towards his face, caressing his cheek gently, and he gave you a reassuring smile, closing his eyes, leaning towards your touch.

This is the first time you saw him like this. Vulnerable. A true smile of happiness on his lips, and it was all because of you. How could you be mad at him when he gave you what you’ve been wanting for the past six months you’ve known him? Something you didn’t think was possible, or that it was just in your head, or it was simply one sided? No… You could never be mad at him for it.

“My Alpha…” You whispered, your breaths starting to slow down as exhaustion started to wash over you, knowing your body will ache the following day, but you couldn’t care less. His eyes opened again, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips, a huff escaping his nose in pure delight. He pulled away a second later, his right hand caressing the side of your face, wiping your tears away. Tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your eyes.

“My Omega… Mine only… so dumb for not realizing what I was trying to say…” Your eyes closed as a satisfied sigh escaped your lips, relief washing over you. His hand kept caressing your face, his soft lips pressing on your forehead, your cheek, tender and caring. Keeping you safe in his arms, his embrace being your safest nest, at least for tonight.

“Eddie…” You mumbled as your consciousness started to slip away as slumber started to overtake you. You heard your name being called out by him after a soft kiss was pressed against your forehead. Your heart now filled with joy, your mating gland ablaze, but you could not feel the pain.

“Rest darling… I’ll keep you safe.”

And then, darkness.

His back was against the headboard of the bed hidden inside his office. He just had to press a button and a bookcase would fall down to reveal itself as a king sized mattress. He held his cellphone on his left hand, calling on Chrissy while his right arm was around your sleeping frame, completely knocked out as you laid on your side, your head on his chest and right hand over his heart.

Once he knew his knot had deflated, he got you both in a more comfortable position. He will have to explain himself to you but now, he had to–

“Tell me you didn’t boss.” Chrissy’s voice blasted in his ear, making him hiss and pull the phone away from him. His fingers were softly brushing your back, keeping you asleep.

“It is done.” His voice was low as he looked down at you, your breaths coming out from your mouth evenly and calm. A soft smile appeared on his lips, feeling the wound of your bite pulsing and burning on his shoulder, but it only made him happier. He heard Chrissy letting out an exasperated sigh on the other side of the phone, making his smile fall and look out the window.

“We haven’t solved the issue with the Hagans. You had to wait until that was finished! They will now know about your mate and target her!” His jaw clenched as his arm tightened around your frame, making you whimper slightly at the tightness but not in pain, just a sound in your sleep.

“I won’t let them touch her, you know that.” Chrissy sighed once more. He knew his right hand was right, but he couldn’t– “Chris, I couldn’t let her slip away from me. She is my scent mate. It was going to happen sooner or later, and the other omegas were not a useful distraction any longer.”

“I know Eddie…” There was a moment of silence before Chrissy continued talking, “but it doesn’t take away the fact that she will be targeted from now on. Something you were trying to avoid all this while by keeping your distance… So, what now?”

And Eddie pondered. He looked out the window as his mind worked, the need to protect you now ten times bigger, may he say twenty thanks to the bond. You two are mated for life now. In this life and the next, and the next, and he has to protect you with everything that he is, even if his own life is at risk.

“Then I guess I have to kill Tommy once and for all and take the clan for myself.” Chrissy remained silent on the other side. It wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He was going to do it peacefully, but Tommy was not a bright or reasonable leader. He was never happy about Eddie’s negotiations, always threatening him and his group, and Eddie knows he will threaten your life in order to get what he wants.

So he prefers to have Tommy’s head in his hands than wait for him to do something stupid.

“Alright… It’s settled.” He hears a rustling of papers, knowing she is taking down notes. He feels you stir slightly, but you just fixed your head on his chest, letting out a soft sigh as you kept sleeping. “And then?”

Eddie frowned in thought and looked down at your frame. A smirk spread on his face as he looked all over your body, his eyes resting over your waist, seeing your belly from the side.

“Get me a house. Somewhere residential, private, secure.” His voice was imperative, and he knew Chrissy was going to comply with no questions asked.

“Alright. How many rooms?” And his lips pressed on the top of your head as a smile spread on them, almost wickedly so.

“Let’s start… with four.”

End

a/n: time to get bred ig, hope u enjoyed, don't forget to leave a reblog, a comment on the reblog doesn't hurt either pretty pls

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #fanfiction #stranger things #alpha!eddie munson #alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #omegaverse #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #mafia!eddie munson #smut #omega!reader

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edenesth · 1 month ago

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By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer [Coming soon]

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

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sheyfu · 3 months ago

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yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.

feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)

cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos

note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ DAN HENG

about [name] [name]? what about them?

chat: significant other [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.

chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ AVENTURINE

about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.

chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.

chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ LUOCHA

about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now.

chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades.

chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JING YUAN

about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.

chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.

chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ GEPARD

about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.

chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?

chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JIAOQIU

about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.

chat: sweets oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.

chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ARGENTI

about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them.

chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment.

chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MOZE

about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.

chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...

chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.

tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3

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srslyblvck · 1 month ago

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── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

#divider by fairytopea #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans

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sugugasm · 5 months ago

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BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

#lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus romance #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lnds smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus qin #sylus smut

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ink-n-shadow · 4 months ago

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outlaw!141 and their kinks…😈 (i apologize for the woman i became after writing this)

𝜗𝜚 pairing: outlaw!141 x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), reader is fem/afab, poly!141, innocence/virginity kink, possessive!price, slight dacryphilia?, praise, corruption kink, anal, marking, gun play, throat fucking, pleasure kink, overstimulation kink, face sitting, allusion to forced (?) face sitting, unedited as usual

gang leader!price has an innocence/virginity kink through and through. he enjoys the innocence and sweetness that you exude, how pure and untouched you appear to be in his eyes. he knows you’re a virgin the first time you guys meet, can tell by the way your cheeks burn hot red with each sweet word he breathes and how your thighs tense and squeeze together beneath the heavy fabrics of your skirts. that’s why he’s the first one to sink his claws into you when you start staying at the camp with them, luring you into his tent with sweet words and the promise of a little drink from his hooch stash. you’re so pliant and willing to accompany him that you don't notice the way the other boys are leering at the both of you, the only thing stopping them from following behind being the revolver price has trained on them and the threat he'd told them earlier ("y'can listen all ya fuckin' want—but no peekin' in my tent unless y'want a fuckin' bullet between the eyes"). he would be all gentle and soft with you, easing your unused hole open with his tongue first before tenderly working you open on one, two, eventually three of his thick meaty fingers. he would kiss away the tears that begin to stream down your cheeks once he's got his thick cock stuffed inside of you (only after making you cum four times over), murmuring soft praises of just how good you feel, how sweet your cunt tasted, how tight you felt around him.

drifter!simon, on the other hand, definitely has a corruption kink. it all starts after your first night at camp, where simon was forced to lay in his bunk and stroke his fat cock to the sound of your broken mewls as price deflowered you. ever since then, he makes it his mission to corrupt you (much to price's dismay). when he gets you in his tent one night after dinnertime, he's not all soft and sweet the way price was. oh no—simon's filthy, pushing you face first into the pillows of his cot as he sinks to his knees and immediately spits a glob of saliva on your untouched hole. dirty words streaming from his lips as he bullies two thick fingers (much thicker and more rugged than price's) in your ass, smirking against the skin of the back of your thigh at the way your mewling whimpers sound more strained, filthy, debauched. you're a boneless mess against his cot, broken pleas for more dripping off your drooling tongue as you subconsciously squirm your hips back to take his fingers deeper. talking about how much of a slut you are for enjoying this treatment, cunt slick and dripping with arousal as he sinks in all the way to the hilt until his balls are flush to your drooling empty slit. he makes sure to leave marks, bruises that won't fade for days to come and imprints of his teeth that border on the edge of breaking skin—all so the other guys can see and know what you let him do to you.

it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that gunsmith!johnny has a gun kink. something about lapping messily at your cunt while your shaky hands fight to keep the muzzle of the gun pressed against his temple makes johnny's cock harder than a fucking rock. or bending you over the work bench in his tent after teaching you how to take apart his pistol, feeding his thick cock into you as he spits in your ear, “c’mon bunny—put it back together f’me. why’re you tremblin’? am i fuckin’ you that good right now?” or making you lay with your head dangling off the end of his cot, forcing your throat to swallow down his cock as he traces the muzzle of the gun around each of your puffy nipples before trailing it down to your slick cunt. he can’t help but chuckle at the way you start choking on his dick when he presses the barrel down hard against your throbbing clit, watching the way your body immediately bows and your hips buck up to find more friction. he likes the way he smears loose gunpowder and gun metal across your skin when you amble into his room once he’s finished making a new gun, chasing his dirtied thumbs with his tongue and lapping up the bitter substances from your sweet skin.

outlaw!kyle is such a giver. ik i usually talk about kyle and his overstimulation kink all the time, but outlaw!kyle literally lives and breathes to get you off. he’s so used to stealing and taking from others, his fingers sticky and grimy with the amount of things he’s looted or stolen, but he never takes from you (unlike the other outlaw!141 members). no, he lets you steal from him—wants you to take from him. absolutely loves it when you come to him all shy, thighs squeezing together beneath your skirts and fingers fidgeting with your blouse as you peer up at him with a wobbly lip and tell him how mean simon had been to you. and outlaw!kyle just clicks his tongue softly as he drags the tips of his fingers down your arms, lips frowning in faux sympathy as he pulls you towards his cot. “simon didn’t let you finish? left you high and dry, huh? s’okay, darlin’—shhh, shhh. i’ll take care of ya. come up here—sit on my face.” but little do you know he’s gonna have you up there for hours, not letting up until your slick and his spit are pooling along the cotton of his sheets and you can barely keep yourself upright. “thought you wanted to cum so bad, hon. why’re we stoppin’? i was just gettin’ started. c'mon—sit back down. don't make me force you.”

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jayke0 · 9 months ago

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Bunk Up

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem reader

Summary: Arthur invites you on a hunting trip, but you foolishly forget your tent. No harm done, you can bunk up with him, right?

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: a deer gets killed (camp's gotta eat), female masturbation, dry humping, fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 3,132

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………......................………………………………….

Why in god's green earth had you agreed to go on this hunting trip again?

Oh yeah, because you have a hard-on for Arthur Morgan… figuratively, that is.

It'd be alright if you could just tell him your feelings, but you'd prided yourself on liking more respectable, more rich men in the past; that's the easiest way to make a living, at the end of the day. You'd originally intended to go for the gang leader, but that man is oblivious and stubborn as hell, not to mention not actually rich, much to your displeasure.

Then Arthur had introduced himself to you. His stupid snarky remarks and silly outfits and disgustingly beautiful eyes all seemed to merge together into this gorgeous man that loomed in front of you and had your knees almost buckling.

Even worse, he'd noticed the way your demeanour changed and how your body seemed to crumble under the weight of his soft eyes.

“Hey! Are you even listenin’ to me?” His gruff voice breaks you from your trance.

“ ‘course I am, I always listen to your wise words, Mr Morgan.” You remark, looking up at him from the position you'd had your eyes trained on seconds ago. “Yeah, sure.” You feel his rough fingertips turn your chin back towards the deer in front of you, a gesture that makes heat rise in your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Take the shot, you got a perfect shot there, can't miss it.”

The cold varnished wood cools your warm cheeks as you bring it close to your face and grit your teeth.

“Always shoot on empty lungs.” His whisper sends shivers down your spine before you take the shot, a loud crack echoing through the trees as a clatter of birds ascends into the sky.

“You did good! That was perfect.” A soft grunt leaves his throat as he gets up and checks the prey. “Think Pearson will make a good meal outta this,” his eyes then meet yours. “Good girl.” he tips his hat to you.

Damn Arthur Morgan, with that shit eating grin that makes your stomach flutter.

“You know I ain't one for pickin’ on people–” Arthur starts, shoveling chunks of peaches in his mouth, “but I don't think I've ever seen someone forget their tent on a huntin’ trip.”

“Ok, for one, you're always picking on people, ‘specially if you don't like ‘em. And for two… just– shut the hell up.” You pull your coat tighter around your body to shield yourself from the cold rain drizzling down your neck, the soft fur bringing you some warmth and comfort to your otherwise shaking body.

“Easy girl, don't be gettin’ mad at me now. Besides, it means you get to share a tent with me, ain't that a dream?” A simple grumble from you makes the man chuckle lowly. “I won't take that personally.”

It was a dream, and you hated admitting that.

Luckily, you'd remembered your bed roll, so at least you didn't have to snuggle up under the cotton sheets with your rugged partner… but, admittedly, a small part of you is disappointed at that.

You try to forget about those thoughts that are festering in the back of your mind and making you squeeze your legs together, but as the cold seeps into your bones and makes yourself huddle further into the sheets, you find yourself backing up against the warm body behind you.

The soft rustle of trees keeps you awake, at least that's what you tell yourself at first, not wanting to give into those filthy images of the cowboy flashing behind your eyelids.

Soon, all too soon for your liking, you find yourself panting. It's barely audible, but it's enough to make yourself embarrassed and look back at the outlaw peacefully sleeping behind you, unaware of the pictures you have playing on loop in your head. It makes you bite your lip; the thought of touching yourself right next to the man you've been meaning to tell your feelings to for months.

Quietly and carefully, you slide your hand over your body and between your legs, rubbing your already damp cunt over the fabric of your underwear. The feeling makes you grit your teeth much like earlier, and a small noise sneaks past your lips. You look back at Arthur again to see his chest still rising and falling slowly… fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?

Your hand slips into your underwear before you're even registering it. It's too cold to take the blanket off, or even your underwear for that matter, so you just run your fingers through your wet folds under the thin fabric. The slick noise it makes sounds too loud in the quiet forest, but at this point you're pretty sure the man is asleep, so you continue teasing yourself.

Your fingers circle your hole as you imagine it being his thick digits instead, or maybe even his tongue, since he's usually so quick with it. Another wet noise fills the tent when your fingers slide inside your needy cunt, buried to your knuckles as you massage that glorious spot inside you. When you pick up the pace, and the noises get louder, you're practically praying, wishing it was Arthur's fingers instead. They'd stretch you wide and fuck you good, the thought makes you shove some of the blanket in your mouth.

You're teetering on the edge at this point, scanning your brain for that final image that'll send you descending down the cliff… but a thick arm wrapping around your waist has you freezing in place.

“What have we got here?” Arthur's low, sleepy voice has the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, raising goosebumps all over your body as if he'd just ripped the sheets from your body.

“Arthur!–shit, I'm sorry–." You start, but his nose pressing against the back of your neck makes you stop in your tracks.

“I ain't judgin’ you, girl. We've all got our urges, desires.” He shuffles up closer to you, closing in on your body till his chest is pressed against your back, and his crotch is angled perfectly against your thighs. “Just wanted to know what you were thinkin’ about.”

God, his voice is so soft and low, it could make you fall asleep if your fingers weren't still knuckle deep inside yourself. “I–uhm…” Should you admit it? With the way he's pressing against you, it makes you think you should.

“You.”

“ ‘s that so? And why ain't you told me about this before, sweetheart?” His breath is hot on the back of your neck, pushing out any coldness that was left in your body as his large hand splays across your stomach and strokes your soft skin.

A huff escapes your nose a little louder than you expected. “Because… I'm embarrassed, I don't wanna be thinking about you like this.” You mumble ashamedly, but as those words leave your lips, you start moving your fingers inside your cunt again; a ‘come hither’ motion that makes you bite your lip to contain your noises.

“Oh, that ain't very nice. You ain't exactly a saint ya'self, Darlin’.”

Fuck, the way his words roll off his tongue makes you roll against your hand with a soft noise.

The action must've pleased Arthur, because he lets out a pant and presses his hips closer to yours, grinding in tandem with you as your hips roll on your fingers.

This feels so strange and wrong, but you aren't sure why. It's not like Arthur is married or even has a girl, he's just as lonely as you, and maybe that's exactly why you're so drawn to each other.

“Mmm, been dreamin’ ‘bout this for months, pressing against you like this.” He groans softly. His chin is placed neatly on your shoulder, cheek pressing against yours as his stubble itches your skin. He feels so warm and big behind you, like he's shielding you from any and every burden, and as his hips rock against yours more, you can't help but do the same. You grind back on him with short, soft pants, tilting your head to just get a glimpse of his blissed out face.

“When was the last time you did something like this, cowboy? You're acting like you're gonna cum in your night clothes.”

That makes a soft chuckle leave his red lips, flushed face pulling away from yours to look down at you.

“Long enough to be needin’ you.”

His words make you shiver, but he's quick to distract you with his hand taking your wrist and swatting your hand away.

“Lemme do it for you, sweetheart, please?”

Before your brain can even question or think about it, your body is telling him yes, your head nodding almost instantly. His fingers are quick to dive into your under garments and slide through your slick folds, a groan from him ringing in your ears.

“Dammit girl, you must have one hell of an imagination to make ya'self this wet… Jesus.” He grunts, looking down at his hand in your underwear with only the dim light of the lantern making your skin glow.

“I always get like this when I think of you, Arthur.” You tell him as your hand wraps around his wrist. “You're the only one that can make me cum.” You moan in his ear, making him dive his fingers into your needy cunt.

The stretch is wonderful, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it, and it's just how you expected, if not better. His thick digits curl and glide over your walls until he finally feels you squirm against him as they touch that delicious spot.

“Yeah? You like it there, darlin’? Want me to keep goin’?”

Again, your body simply speaks for you, nodding quickly and grinding down on his fingers. You feel him grind his hips against you again, his body seemingly wanting to get impossibly closer to you as he ruts against your ass.

“You're such a pretty girl, y'know that? Been waitin’ to tell you that since the day we met.” He rests his chin on your arm so he can peck the exposed skin and continue curling his fingers inside you.

The tent is once again filled with the filthy sounds of your hole taking two fingers, sloppy wet sounds that would make you feel ashamed if it didn't feel so fucking good. It feels like all your nerves are being stroked at once, each time his fingers brush against your tummy or stroke your walls feels like you can't get enough of the electricity that runs through your body. You grip his thick arm, looking back at him as moans fall from your lips.

“You're damn good… shit.” You whimper as he looks up at you, big round eyes meeting yours to show he's there.

“Well, I appreciate that, comin’ from you.” He chuckles lightly, his own words breathy while his hips start to snap a little faster and become sloppy. “You gotta lemme feel this cunt for myself, please sweetheart, lemme feel this cunt clench around my cock.”

You find it hard to stop rocking your hips when he's talking to you like that, but eventually you take a deep breath and stop yourself. His fingers slip out of you with a lewd sound, and you feel him shuffle to get his night clothes off.

Your own are gone within seconds, your body too hot and needy to worry about if you'd thrown them outside to the wolves to get torn to shreds, all you can focus on is the man behind you.

As much as this position made you wet before, you desperately want to see his handsome face, even if it is barely visible. So, you flip onto your other side and rest your hands on his chest, the warmth spreading through your fingers. You can practically feel his excitement buzzing off of him and through your body, and it makes you giggle a little. “Jesus, you really ain't done this in a while, have you?”

“Not with a girl as pretty as you, sweetheart.” One hand slides over your cheek while his other finally gets his clothes off.

Just his tone alone makes your cheeks heat up, but as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself taking in a breath of surprise. It's easy to melt into his arms and get lost in the feeling of his lips; they're surprisingly soft and sweet, and they feel like they fit perfectly on yours.

You're so swept up that it takes you a second to notice his hand snaking around the back of your knee and pulling your hips closer to himself.

That's when you feel it.

His length rests against your slick pussy lips, your leg now cocked over his waist to get him close. It feels bigger than you expected, thicker than you expected, it makes you whine softly on his lips.

You hate his little grin that you feel spread across his face. “Impatient, ain't you?” He teases, slowly rocking his hips against yours to let his cock slide through your sopping folds. His tip manages to butt against your clit each time, making you furrow your brows and moan softly on his lips.

Your hand is still resting on his cheek as you feel him push in for the first time, and god are you glad you're holding onto your bedroll with the other, because the stretch and the way he fills you makes you almost cum on the spot, a loud moan spilling from your lips to make you whimper embarrassedly.

“Oh sweetheart, don't be embarrassed. I love the noises you're makin’ for me, they're makin’ me so goddamn hard, can you do it again for me?” He asks as he pulls his hips back before sliding inside your warm, slick walls again.

You're quick to oblige to his plea, your body automatically reacting with a soft choked moan at the surprise of his thick cock stretching you once again. You can feel his calloused fingers still gripping the back of your knee to hold your leg up, giving him the perfect angle for his length to hit every nerve you have inside you and send sparks of arousal up your spine.

“Thaaat’s a good girl, look at'chu.” The man purrs, his warm breath making your eyes flutter shut so you can focus on his cock spearing you with each slow, deep thrust.

“Holy shit, Arthur, f–feels like you're splitting me in half.” You moan as your hands slide over his thick biceps and along his broad shoulders, finding that the perfect place for you to grip on for dear life too.

Arthur groans before leaning forward to press a kiss on the top of your head as he pants softly. “Biggest you've had, huh? Never felt somethin’ like this inside you, have you?” He doesn't accept the simple shake of your head, instead giving you a sharp thrust that has your nails dig into his flesh and a whimper spill from your lips. “No! No, I haven't… I love it, dammit, I love your cock.”

Something inside him seems to click as you say those words, a long moan slipping from his throat as his grip becomes tighter on your leg to pull you closer to him, his cock burying deeper inside you. He doesn't give you time to adjust before his hips are colliding with yours and the sounds of both your arousal soaked thighs are filling your ears and sending waves of pleasure from your head to your toes.

“Listen to those filthy noises, girl, that's all you. That's your wet cunt..” Arthur manages to moan out. He tilts his head down to watch your hips connecting, his head resting against your collar bones. “What a pretty cunt it is too… shit, I ain't ever felt somethin’ as good as this, miss.” His words seem to roll off of his tongue with ease, as if he's a erotic poet reciting the words he's scrawled down on the page. Maybe it has something to do with that journal he's writing in all the time… lord above how you'd love to read that.

“For you, Mr Morgan,” you blabber without even thinking about the words coming from your mouth. “I'm all for you, want you to take me like this over and over–.” It's funny how worked up you get over your own words, but it seems to have an even better effect on Arthur.

His brows knit together as his jaw hangs open a little, and dirty blonde strands of hair fall in his face and stick to his forehead perfectly.

“Shit, girl, you're gonna make me finish inside you if you keep talkin’ like that…” The man groans, his lip finding its way between his teeth to give him something to chew on. Somehow, his thrusts get faster, impossibly better as you feel the molten heat spread through your body and up to your throat to make you moan his name, along with any other expletives that come to mind.

Before you can stop yourself, you're saying dangerous words that, with any other man, would be like handing a loaded gun to a baboon.

“I want you to do that Arthur! Please– please cum inside me–” Your entire body tenses up before you come crashing down, whaling and grasping onto him for dear life as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm and make sharp thrusts that have you whimpering loudly. Your walls clench him tightly in pulsing rhythm, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

It's only a few more seconds before he's tearing his body away from yours and fisting himself, white ropes shooting all over your tummy as groans and growls rumble in his chest and his head throws back.

You watch the whole scene in front of you in awe, as if you're at the goddamn theatre watching a play… no, it's better than that. You'd never had time for the theatre, but you always have time for Arthur, despite how he gets on your nerves sometimes.

You smile softly at him as he lifts his head to look down at you, a smug grin on his face as he leans forward and pecks your lips.

“Hey, what's with the grin?” You huff softly and hit his chest playfully.

“Nothin’ just been waitin’ for you to admit your feelin's for me for a while now.”

An annoyed growl leaves your lips as you feel your face heat up with embarrassment, burying it in his chest instead to save you from his teasing.

“Shut the hell up, Morgan…”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader

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callmeagardengnome · 12 days ago

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✗ mob mentality ✗ | ATEEZ (series masterlist)

pairings ✃ individual! mafia! ateez ot8 x fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, one-shots, angst here and there, romance, potential yandere behaviour, romance

details ✃ a collection of (unique…?) mafia one-shots WITH NO SMUTTTT created by yours truly.

۶ blood in the clouds ৎ

[mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader]

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong hijacks a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

poll | deleted scenes

۶ sugar and sin ৎ

[mafia! seonghwa x fem! reader]

seonghwa goes above and beyond to eliminate his targets: going undercover in places they go to most. when you happen to spend your time in a secluded bakery, seonghwa decides to bake your treats with doses of poison - yet somehow, you keep surviving.

in which you thought you made a new friend in your local bakery, when in reality - your ‘baker’ keeps mistaking laxatives for poison.

۶ marathon extravaganza ৎ

[mafia! yunho x rival! fem! reader]

yunho has been a professional shooter for all of his life. he’s killed lawyers, federal agents and even highly-protected politicians. so why does his shots keep missing you?

in which you and yunho become obsessed in a stalking game of cat and mouse, and it turns out that you have a lot more in common than you thought.

۶ under the hood ৎ

[mafia! yeosang x car mechanic! fem! reader]

as a mechanic, you tend to see clients on the daily - some new, some old. but when one of your regulars leave a $100,000 bag of cash on your counter, it seems like you’ve turned from ordinary citizen to wanted criminal.

in which yeosang accidentally gave you the bag of money he stole instead of a ten dollar tip.

۶ fries in the bag ৎ

[mafia! san x fast food employee! fem! reader]

san’s most effective method of killing is by using his looks to lure his enemies - making many powerful women (and men) fall for him. but when a regular person seems to be unfazed by his charms, san decides to do anything to make you fall in love with him.

in which you finally got through your 2am shift, only to find the severed head of your abusive manager at your doorstep.

۶ voice of crime ৎ

[mafia! mingi x anime VA! fem! reader]

when you entered the voice acting industry, you knew that there would be people that either loved you or hated you. but what you didn’t expect was to get shot at an anime convention by a weeb in cosplay.

in which mingi accidentally shoots his favourite voice actress instead of her boyfriend that was beside her.

۶ money makers ৎ

[mafia! wooyoung x fem! reader]

day and night, you work in a shitty multi-million dollar corporation that doesn’t care about you. and to make matters worse, you had to find out that the whole company is in debt to a mafia gang by getting kidnapped during office hours.

in which wooyoung tries to torture information out of you, only to realise that he’s found his kryptonite: a suicidal intern.

۶ siren’s call ৎ

[mafia! jongho x jazz singer! fem! reader]

as the newest addition to the mafia, jongho got assigned to the boring task of scoping out a random bar in town. annoyed, he decided to leave early. or so he tried. when the singer stepped on stage and sang into the mic, her voice pulled jongho further into the bar than out.

in which you begin to notice a regular in your gigs, though you can't ignore that your male audience seems to be disappearing one by one.

hi yall! i initially only wanted to make one hongjoong oneshot until i realised how much i love mafia aus. there will be no smut in these stories and at most, there will be a detailed kissing scene. also do not expect regular updates!

if you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask!

series taglist [OPEN] - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2

other fics

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salem-witch-slut · 2 months ago

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These Trembling Hands(18+)

Sevika X Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of past sex (very minor), breast fondling (also pretty minor), only rated 18+ because dirty things were mentioned. Pretty tame overall. Brief mentions of SA of a minor (TRIGGER WARNING)

WORD COUNT: 4K (EXACTLY OMGGG)

A/N: This is a sequel fic to my Prostitution kinktober prompt. I loved it too much to hang it out to dry. And damn, you guys are eating that fic up. Over 1K notes in 2 days. Bunch of whores, the lot of ya!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

You had heard rumors of Silco being killed, but that was all you heard of it. You could see from your shitty home terrace deep in the underground of the Undercity. People were scared, things were chaos, and the gangs were at war with each other. Without their leader, the Zaunites were rogue and killed whoever they saw fit. Luckily for you, you weren’t exactly a target as a brothel employee.

It was more valuable to keep you alive, and everybody knew you were loyal to one Zaunite in particular that even after everything, she’s still as powerful as ever. Still a force to be reckoned with, but does not act unless prompted to.

Sevika hadn’t been back to see you since Silco’s confirmed death. You simply assumed she had far too much work to do as the leader of keeping the peace between the gangs. Which was insane, because peace talks were never her job.

You hated to admit it… Oh, fuck that, you would scream it from the rooftops. You missed Sevika so bad. You missed her touch like it was what kept you alive. She saw you nearly every single week before Silco’s death and now the only way you know she’s alive is from the whispers on the streets.

Every day you would come in and hope for her presence, but you were never lucky. You never got to see her handsome face and your body begged for an actual release, or that cool metal from her cybernetic arm. You loved the chills you got from the sharp talon like fingers raking over your rear and leaving marks in your skin.

God, you missed her. You missed her husky voice, how she held you when you came on her fingers, how she encouraged you to bite her, the praise she gave, mixed with degradation… You were addicted to Sevika, and it was embarrassing.

The entire staff knew about your obsession with her. She once left a handkerchief of hers in your room after she used it to wipe the sweat from her face and you kept it. Oddly enough, it smelled just like her and you simply enjoyed having it in your presence. Sevika made you feel wanted. Was that so wrong to love?

You kept it with you all the time. You had it in your pocket even as you walked into work that day.

It was just like any other morning as you entered through the backdoors and got set up in your assigned room that you had, over time, personalized to fit your personality. You had a thing for dark candles and burning herbs that had been known to have relaxing properties. It made your life much, much easier and Babette encouraged it so you wouldn’t need to call out of work once again for your bruised cervix.

You chewed on your thumbnail as you sat yourself down, prepared to get dressed in your signature outfit of dark colors that the clientele loved, when the curtain pulled back to your room without warning. Your entire body went rigid as you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat.

She came back! You tried to not let your excitement show as you stood up from your seat, cursing at your frumpy outfit. Baggy sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt that kept you warm in the dark underground city. Your hair was a mess and you hadn’t done your makeup yet but she barely even blinked as she stood in the doorway.

“S-Sevika, I–” You stuttered, looking at the cloak on her shoulder and then up to her face… Oh, she looked so, so tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, partially bloodshot and her cheek was cracked, evidence from the overuse of shimmer from her cybernetic arm. She had a fading bruise on her brow, and healing cuts over her neck and near her cheeks. “Sevika?”

The tall woman finally made eye contact with you and you watched her toss off her cape and throw it to the floor. You noticed her arm was missing, and there was a frayed wire sticking out of the socket. It looked like it was ripped out of the mechanics on her shoulder as she slowly approached you and made you stumble backwards until your legs smacked into the bed.

Sevika watched you fall onto the bed, your face turning pink as she let out a long, big sigh and got down on her knees. For a second, you thought she was going to eat you out… But then you simply felt her head rest on your thighs and her arm wrap around your waist.

“Sevika, are you–”

“I’m tired,” She said, her voice wavering and cracking. You could smell the alcohol on her body and you could feel your heart almost breaking for her. “I’m so… so tired…”

“Oh honey,” You cooed softly, your hands reaching up and gently rubbing at her scalp. The crime lord visibly relaxed, feeling you remove the hair tie from her brown strands as you slid it on your wrist and raked your fingernails over her head. “You must be just exhausted… You’ve been doing everything out there.”

“Shit never stops,” Sevika pushed her nose into your thigh. “It’s always something… Someone is always getting killed, and I have to fix it. I used to be the one with the blood on my hands, and now I’m cleaning it off someone else’s.”

“I know,” You said, combing your fingers through her hair. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“What I did,” Sevika scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now… It’s just me holding it together.”

Words seem to fail you as you simply rubbed at the back of her neck, one hand sliding from her hair and down the back of her shirt, nails crossing over her skin and making the muscular woman shiver in your hold. This was completely different from what you two had grown used to.

Normally, Sevika would be making you scream at this point. She would stretch you on her fingers and praise you as you pulled on her hair and called out her name like it was the last thing you would ever say. But now? Sevika was too exhausted to do anything… Why was she here then? Why not at her home, sleeping?

You sat there with her for almost ten minutes, simply playing with her hair and rubbing her back. After a while, you could feel her breathing get a bit heavier and you frowned, looking down and seeing how she was almost asleep in your lap.

“Sevika,” You said gently, feeling her hand flex in your shirt as she looked up and then visibly relaxed at seeing your face. You smiled sweetly before scooting back on the bed and removing your sweatshirt. You flopped backwards in your plain white tank top before patting the space next to you. “Come here.”

“Y-You know, this isn’t what I pay for,” Sevika stuttered, her ears going pink for a second. You had never heard her stutter before! It was adorable. You simply rolled your eyes and reached out with both hands, undoing the fasteners on her shirt. The woman’s breath hitched as she went tense for a second, her hand reaching for your wrist out of instinct. “What are you–”

“Just relax,” You spoke softly, reaching up and sliding the shirt from her body down onto the floor. Underneath was a simple black stained shirt with tears near the collar. You scooted back once again and patted the mattress. “How long did you pay for this time?”

Sevika hesitated as she sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching down and undoing the buckles of her boots. “All day?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around her waist. Sevika looked down, used to being able to reach down with her cybernetic arm but now it was simply phantom feelings.

In seconds, you two were crawling into bed as Sevika immediately wrapped her arm around your waist and pushed her head against your soft chest, basking in your warmth and listening to your heartbeat.

If there’s one thing you didn’t expect from today, it was this. You were expecting another hard, rough day with no rest and no breaks between clientele, but this was a very, very pleasant surprise. Your hands stayed put, rubbing at her back and holding her forearm that was draped across your middle. You could feel her breathing become more heavy, and you simply looked down before smiling.

She looked so peaceful… Her lips were parted slightly, the gap in her front teeth more prominent as she breathed heavily, a snore escaping her as she dug her fingers into your side. It was then that you realized something. Something that you definitely should have realized before after all these months with Sevika being your favorite client– No, favorite person.

You felt something for her. It went beyond simple affection or fascination with the woman. It was every time you saw her come in. You felt your heart skip a few beats and you were wrapped up in her arms almost immediately. Sometimes she stops by just for an hour, sometimes she’s here for almost four hours. But no matter how long, she never neglected your feelings.

Sevika was a rough lover, but she was so good at taking care of you, even if her aftercare was slightly condescending. She would wipe you off while calling you a messy whore. She would wrap a blanket around your shoulders while gently slapping your cheek. She would laugh at you as you lay in the pile of pillows on the floor, but still managed to get you water if you asked nicely.

And yet, even after all these months, there was one line you two had yet to cross, no matter how badly you wanted to. It felt too personal… A big jump between client and lover. Sevika couldn’t possibly see you like that. She pays for this. She has never attempted to see you outside of working hours, and you were sure she could easily find you. Not like you went anywhere outside of work and home and the occasional food stop.

The thoughts plagued your mind as you watched her sleep on your chest, seeing her lips move as she mumbled something and pushed her face deeper into your tits. You raked your fingernails slowly over her back, being gentle enough to keep her sleeping, but not so light that it tickled and woke her up. You were fully content with being like this all day long. If she paid for an all day session, this would be more than enough to keep you happy. She didn’t even need to touch you to make you happy. Sevika being here was good enough for you.

As the time went by, you could feel your eyes growing heavy with every passing second. You wanted to close them so bad, but every moment with Sevika felt precious to you. You wanted to kiss her. You had never been able to do that before… you wanted to so badly, it was eating at your soul and making your heart race. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and part of you felt like you would throw up, but it was simply eating at you.

Would she push you away? Would she refuse to come back? Or worse, would she retaliate? It felt like Sevika liked you too beyond just a body to play with, but you weren’t sure… Well, asking was out of the question. You knew words would fail you and you would sit there stumbling on your sentences like a moron. This was your only option.

Very carefully, you slid down the mattress and felt her lift up her head so she could rest it on the pillow as you moved. Sevika made a face of disappointment as she opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to readjust to the soft lighting of the room. From this close, you could see how the candles reflected off her irises and you could see the flecks of purple around the corner from when she would use shimmer.

She stayed quiet, simply looking at you as you slowly reached down and grabbed at her hand. Her brows creased, seeing your slight distress and scooting herself slightly closer. Her body heat had your breath hitching. “What’s wrong, doll?”

Fuck, that nickname made your heart flutter. It felt like a rabbit was kicking at your chest behind your ribs as your hand slid up the length of her arm. You could feel the muscles underneath flexing, almost like she was teasing you on purpose. Her body was solid muscle and all strength; with sharp edges and tough skin. You loved every single inch of her.

“Sevika, I–” You tested your voice, and felt it crack like glass. Your face went pink as the smirk that did reside on her face slowly began to vanish. The silver irises glinted with confusion. She was genuinely concerned now as she saw, and felt your hand shaking as it slid up her arm and carefully rested on her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Sevika asked, her voice barely above a whisper. You blinked slowly, biting your lip before scooting closer.

A moment passed, and you simply couldn’t take it. “Screw it.”

You grabbed the back of Sevika’s neck under her hair and pulled yourself upward, your lips finally connecting with hers. The woman went stiff, her entire body rigid against yours as her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. A noise you had never heard from her before. It made your legs press together as you refused to breathe until you separated from her.

It scratched an itch deep in your brain that you didn’t know was eating at you. It felt like a hot shower after a cold day. It was like breathing after being underwater. It was everything you had expected… Minus Sevika not reciprocating…

When you broke off from her lips, you saw that she was laying there in pure shock. Her eyes were wide and the hand on your hip twitched as you looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. You were worried now. She looked almost upset with you as you refused to meet her gaze, scared of the repercussions.

“I’m sorry,” You said, close to sobbing. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to overstep and I was just– I don’t know what I was–”

Your words were cut off as Sevika gently tucked her knuckle under your chin and tilted your head back up to meet her eyes. And you saw her cheeks tinted a soft pink and her eyes were sparkling. And that was the last thing you saw before she was jolting forward and recapturing your lips like she couldn’t live without it.

Instantly, your hands went around her neck and you pulled her close, drowning in everything that was the woman named Sevika. How intense she was with every aspect of her life and how she gave 100% with all her actions, and that included kissing. Her tongue gently teased at your lips and you responded with your own, pressing it against hers and slipping it passed her teeth.

Sevika groaned, grabbing at your hip and pressing your entire body against hers, allowing you to feel how warm her skin felt on your own. It was like touching a livewire; you couldn’t break away even if you wanted. You couldn’t get enough, and you wanted more. So, so much more…

Your stomach twisted in your gut as you began sitting up off the bed and before you could stop yourself, your legs moved until you were sitting on Sevika’s hips, holding her down and breaking off from the kiss for a brief second.

There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was challenging you. Her brows knitted together as she panted, her hand curling against the bedsheets and her chest rising with each harsh inhale she took. Dear fucking Gods, she was sculpted by deities you didn’t even know existed. Her taut abdomen sucked in with each breath and you saw the outline of her abs through the shirt riding up on her waist.

Maybe someone else would have been put off with her only having one arm, but you didn’t care. It didn’t diminish her strength, and she could fair fine without it. Even with just a hand, she was able to break you and you would thank her.

“Someone’s being bold today,” It was that same flirty condescending tone she used with you all of the time. You ate it up as your fingers traced down her chest, between the valley of her breasts before stopping to trace a few little patterns into the flesh showing below her shirt. You felt her abdomen tremble at your touch, and you smirked. “Get that smile off your face.”

“I can’t help it,” You said, fingers twitching as you reached forward a little more and began sliding her shirt upward to expose her stomach and staring at her chiseled muscles in full view. Your breath hitched and you felt your toes curl up. “So perfect…”

Sevika groaned, putting her hand over her face and covering her eyes. Almost like she was embarrassed of your words, but that would be silly. Sevika doesn’t get embarrassed. She isn’t capable of that. Is she?

The veins almost popped in her forearm as she grabbed her face, feeling your soft, uncalloused fingers stroke along her ribs and slide up even more. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as you breathed hard, licking at your lips. This was a huge moment for both of you.

You had never seen Sevika without a shirt before. Never seen all of her and hardly ever got to touch her like this. You felt like you were in control. This was insane.

“S-Stop me if it’s too much,” You said, voice wavering as you pushed the shirt up the rest of the way. Your insides damn near melted at seeing her breasts for the very first time. You had a feeling it was just as strong as the rest of her, but you didn’t have proof until now. And another suspicion you had? Yes, her nipples were pierced. You fucking knew it.

“You done?” Sevika snapped, looking down at you and narrowing her eyes. You blinked, not realizing just how long you were staring at her until she knocked you out of your stupor. “Not some sideshow attraction here, doll.”

“Really?” You chuckled, reaching up and cupping her breasts with both hands. “Because I think I should be paying to see you.” Your fingers traced over her piercings and Sevika gasped, her body jerking towards your touch like she was desperate for it.

Sevika was a vision. And you were desperate to see more.

It wasn’t long until you were reaching down for her belt and unzipping her pants when she reached out with her hand and grabbed at both of your wrists. You immediately stopped, looking down at her and seeing the wild look in her eyes and how her body was almost on the offensive.

“Wait,” She pleaded. Your heart broke. “Just… just wait, please, give me just a minute.”

“Sevika,” You frowned, releasing her belt and scooting closer towards her. Something was off about this, and you just had to know what was going on. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s just that… I just…” Her entire face fell as she sat up and dropped her head down. Her hair covered her face as you reached forward and pushed it away to look at her. “No one has done that before. I haven’t… let anyone touch me like this.”

“Honey,” You cooed, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Sevika pressed her lips into a thin line and looked up through her lashes, the bruises under her eyes more prominent from this angle. “Talk to me.”

The woman scowled. It was an internal battle for her to admit any of this, especially to you. Sevika knew how you saw her, and this was just crossing some kind of line in her mind. You saw her as a strong, unmovable force that could never be injured or taken down. You saw Sevika as a god, and she was about to shatter that illusion.

“It was when I was a kid,” Sevika admitted. “I was a scrawny little shit, you know? A gutter rat… an easy target,” For a brief second, her eyes watered but she blinked it away. “I didn’t stand a chance back then.”

There was a moment of confusion before the pieces clicked into place and you felt your entire body go rigid. You felt sadness, empathy, compassion… rage. Pure, blood-boiling rage as you pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. You couldn’t show your anger, but you wanted to hunt whoever it was down, and watch them bleed out slowly. How could anybody do that to her? To a child?

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Don’t,” Sevika looked away immediately, her lips curling into an almost snarl as she looked down at the sheets, trying to distance herself. You tried not to flinch as you scooted back in the bed and gave her space. “I don’t tell people shit for that reason. I don’t need pity. I don’t want it either.”

“Okay,” You bit down on your lip, tucking your legs under your body and putting both hands on your thighs. Sevika noticed your sudden change of attitude and she stood up from the bed. Before you could ask what she was doing, she started pacing back and forth, rubbing at her jaw and trying to sort out her thoughts. You sat there silent, scared if you said a word that she would snap and the moment you two shared would be over.

It was almost three whole minutes before she stopped pacing. You felt like you were trapped in a cage with a wild animal. So unpredictable and volatile, but just scared of what you could do to them and they feel the need to defend their existence. Your heart went out to her, and you wish you could take back your actions because now everything was shattered, just as you feared.

“What the hell are we doing?” Sevika muttered into her hand. She turned to look at you and saw that you weren’t looking up at her, and almost like it was happening in slow motion, a tear slipped down and splattered onto your leg. You didn’t look up… until she said your name. Your real name, not a nickname or pet name.

“Look,” Sevika said, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take your face in her hand. You leaned into her touch and held back a whimper. “This all got out of hand… Somewhere between us, the lines started blurring. Went beyond me paying to fuck you–”

“You’re not coming back,” You shivered. Sevika visibly recoiled at your words. “Are you? I ruined this, and now you won’t come back again.”

“Hey now,” The woman immediately grabbed at your chin and forced you to look up. “Don’t put words in my mouth, doll. I never said that.”

You whimpered. “Then… What are you saying?”

A gasp left you as she pressed her lips into yours once again and sighed, her hand tangling in your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck. It was just as fucking amazing as before and you were visibly upset when she broke off.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know? We just… have to keep this quiet, understand?”

“You mean,” You said. “Like a secret?”

“See?” Sevika chuckled before kissing your cheek. “I knew you weren’t dumb, sweetheart.”

#lgbt #lgbtq #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika #my fic #arcane league of legends #arcane #fluff #this is so cute #sevika just needs a fucking hug #that poor woman #give her a break #trigger warning #tw mentions of sa #lesbian character #wlw fiction

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ilovespec · 4 months ago

Text

Dangerous obsession ~

| Yandere FEM ! Dangerous gangster × FEM civilian reader. | part 1

WARNINGS !!! : YANDERE BEHAVIOR !!! disrespect of a guy to a girl (to you) , illegal penetration , non - con touching, non - con kisses , your boyfriend here is a gangster, YANDERE IS FUCKING THE MOST DANGEROUS GANGSTER OF MY STORIES!!! Yandere = hot mommy. You can't change my mind about that.

Yandere description

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, standing next to your boyfriend. Judging by what he said, you will meet with the MOST influential criminal human in the entire region... (The region in Russia is something like a small state , to put it very briefly) . Your boyfriend may be a gangster, but he's a good man!! He even bought flowers for this "criminal human"! Well.. Sometimes he may not come home for several days, but the main thing is that he loves you, really....? You wrapped your hand around his, squeezing tightly. And he just looked at you wearily

- Your bf (boyfriend) : (your name), don't be so nervous, she won't eat you.

- You : I really hope so....

Your boyfriend snorts and looks away from you. Clutching a bouquet of flowers. But when a limousine parked next to you on the road, your boyfriend got weird... More active ? He immediately approached those who got out of the car... They were two women. One looked to be about 40 years old. She has short blonde hair, dark turquoise eyes and very impressive muscles and height. And next to her is also tall, but slightly shorter than her "friend" girl. She has white hair with black tips at the end of each strand, slightly pale skin and blue eyes.. By the way, 1 woman has a strange eyepatch, which is strange...

They came up to you, and your boyfriend immediately came up to them trying to give them a bouquet and ... Smiling? He rarely smiled even at you... And he immediately started talking.

- Your bf: Boss... uh, this is for you, please take it..!

But none of these women even paid attention to him at first. 1 the woman who was the most intimidating came right up to you.

- Creepy woman: Good evening to you. As far as I understand, are you this guy's girlfriend?

You nod awkwardly, blushing slightly. She has a German accent, and her appearance up close has... An adult charm ..?? She just smiles, and gently takes your hand in her MUCH larger and stronger palm. And then she kisses the back of your hand, with a half-smile on her face..!!!

- Creepy woman: my name is Belinda Blank, and what is your name, meine Liebe?

- You : I... I (your name)..

Then the second girl connects. She comes up to you and hugs you around the waist from behind. Which clearly angers 1 woman.

- A beautiful girl : And I'm Agafya. I'm Belinda's right-hand . She is the boss of all 4 gangs in this city ;)

- Belinda: So get away from her, I'm your boss, and that's an order.

Agafya just grins and walks away from you, and Belinda doesn't waste a second asking you questions (while hovering over you, unknowingly scaring you.)

And your boyfriend, meanwhile, is trying his best to earn their attention too. And he did it anyway. When he stupidly pushed you away slightly, there were obvious changes in their facial features instead of you standing in front of these two. And Belinda grabbed your boyfriend by the shoulder and hissed.

- Belinda : Junge Mann...Respect your girlfriend..

And Agafya added, laughing softly.

- Agafya : otherwise our boss will take her away ~ BUGAGAGA * loud villainous laughter*

Because of this phrase, Agafya got an elbow in the ribs. But she still kept laughing from that... Because this is absurd ! Her boss hadn't liked anyone for almost 20-25 years!! And this is the young girl of some new up-and-coming gangster... hahaha!!!

After that meeting, you were lying in bed. Alone again. And your boyfriend is away on business... Again, he's fighting with someone, or whatever they do in gangs... You sigh softly and close your eyes.. With the hope that he will return in the morning.

The next morning, surprisingly, you woke up... With slightly swollen lips, and the other side of the bed rumpled...? Maybe your boyfriend finally came at night...!!! You really, really hope so... But when you came to the kitchen, there was a huge bouquet of flowers and an expensive necklace on the countertop! And there was a note next to them... Which wasn't written in your boyfriend's handwriting. Here's what was written in the note:

" Honey , I've been watching you for several months <3 And yes, don't sleep at night in your underwear, it's already getting cold. And I'm sure I'm better than your boyfriend. ❤

From your future lover "

Were you shocked when you reread the note and looked at the gifts, someone broke into your house...? You were scared and shocked when you dialed your boyfriend's number on the phone to tell him what happened...

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miniimight · 1 year ago

Note

can you write one where mikey tries so hard to hide your relationship but he lets you into toman without you really being all that strong (he just wanted you around) and some members try to hit on you and he teaches them a lesson?

I LOVE YOUR WORK BTW!!!! OMG

HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP ! but some new toman members make it not-so-hidden

with mikey + fem!reader

warnings unwelcome attraction, they corner you and try to force you into a date, a guy puts his hands on you against your will

notes i love this request !! :D i think i went overboard tho lol

mikey was the epitome of attention as the leader of the growing toman. he really couldn't help the fact that emma was known as his sister, but he desperately tried to keep the fact that you were his girlfriend under wraps. couldn't have dumb kids trying to use you against him or get you caught up in gang wars.

every time he dropped you home, you slid off his bike and handed him his spare helmet (more like his only helmet, cuz he didn't wear one).

"bye, mikey." you hummed. "pick me up tomorrow?"

you didn't even have to ask. "yeah." he leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the bike handle while the other was held in front of you, palm towards the dusky sky.

you slipped your hand into his and he squeezed it, lingering as if he were contemplating something. you waited patiently.

he was so tempted to pull you back into his arms. who cares about the toman meeting when it meant a few more minutes with you?

he sighed and gave in, pulling you closer to the bike bashfully. he looked shy to ask. he'd never spent much time with you after school as he usually ran with his friends. but this time... he just wanted you close.

"ride with me?" he mumbled. "...again?"

you tilted your head slightly. "but... i thought you were gonna hang out with your friends?"

he tugged you forward, forcing a little yelp out of you as you fell into his shoulder. he hugged you tightly, his voice muffled against your chest.

"we never get to hang out for long..." he said. just this once, and no one will notice. maybe he could introduce you to his close friends this time? "it'll be okay. trust me."

you smiled and climbed on again, clasping the helmet buckle under your chin. "okay."

his bike roared to life, zooming down the streets.

[]

he parked his bike nearby, but far away enough so that it'd look like he walked to the meeting spot. your eyes drank the sight of the crowd down there. you knew who mikey was and what he was involved in, but never actually saw it for yourself.

he pouted. "why do you look so surprised?"

you chuckled. "aw, don't pout. i know you're a hotshot, mikey, but seeing all your guys is a different thing."

"not all of them are my guys." mikey whipped out his phone. "anyways, i want you to meet my sister."

you blinked, whipping your head to face him. he already had the phone to his ear. "now?!"

mikey grinned mischievously. "hey emma? i've got someone here, come to where all the bikes are parked."

after a few minutes, his sister came running up with a groan. "what do you want mikey—oh!" emma's jaw dropped. "a girl?!" she pointed an accusatory finger at mikey. "explain yourself!"

mikey smirked proudly and pulled you closer, his arm strung around your shoulders. "a girlfriend."

"girlfr—?!" emma paced in a frustrated circle. "and you didn't tell me?!"

"yeah, cuz it's supposed to be a secret!" mikey retorted, huffing. "and i know you'd just tell ken-chin or something."

emma gaped at the two of you for a moment. you waved meekly, squeaking a "hi, emma. i'm y/n."

she rushed towards you, clutching your hands in hers. "tell. me. everything."

mikey smiled despite his front of annoyance, ruffling both your heads as he walked by. "come on."

as mikey walked, gang members scurried away to make ample room for their president and the two that flanked him: his sister and who they assumed was her guest. he soon reached the platform where all the captains gathered. his crew looked more curious than confused at your presence.

"oi, emma," draken narrowed his eyes at the blonde, the first to pipe up. "you can't just bring whoever you want to these things."

emma opened her mouth to retort, but mikey nudged her side. that was enough to make her revise what she was going to say. "whatever."

you, on the other hand, were confused, thrown into a whole new environment that you knew nothing about. seeing all these violence-prone tough guys made you feel so small and weak.

mikey observed you as your eyes nervously darted across the crowd of toman. he leaned towards you to whisper while his friends were occupied by a chatty emma, his hair brushing against your ear. "just stay where i can see you and you can see me."

"so, at the front?" you gave him a skeptical look.

"wherever you want, i just wanna see your face." he smiled, eyes closed. heat rose to your face as you cast your gaze elsewhere. dork.

you and mikey were pulled from your own little world when emma huffed and puffed at draken.

"ugh, this is boring anyway!" emma turned on her heels. "come on, y/n!"

"oh! okay..." you blinked and gave mikey a parting glance.

the boys watched the two of you race down the steps.

draken scoffed, standing at mikey's side. "why was that girl looking at you like that?"

mikey smiled to himself, his heart thrumming happily. "dunno. might be in love with me or something."

they all laughed at him. yeah, as if!

"emma, slow down—!" you grunted as you wove through all the boys gathered, ignoring their smirking or curious faces as you desperately tried to keep her flowy blond hair in your sight. but it was dark and the black uniforms didn't help one bit.

you paused, looking around.

you lost her. you cursed and just focused on making your way to the back, being alone around all these weird teenagers didn't sit well with you.

"hey."

the firm grip around your wrist sent chills down your spine. you tugged once in a hopes to slither away but with no luck.

"what're ya doing here?"

you turned to see a group of guys surrounding you. your heart dropped into your stomach. your eyes drifted upwards. you couldn't see over their heads; you couldn't see mikey.

"oh, just hanging out with a friend..." you answered. "i'm gonna go now..."

"hold on, you think we buy that?" the one doing all the talking scoffed. "you're a girl here at a gang meeting, what 'friend' are you visiting, huh?!"

you flinched at the tone, unable to find the words.

"wanna know what i think?" he bent down to look you in the eye. "think you're just looking for attention. what, need a boyfriend, sweetheart?"

you hurriedly shook your hands, staring at them with panic. "no! no, i have one! i have a boyfriend." you hoped that would deter them, you desperately hoped they would leave you alone. your head swiveled around. some were taking amusement in the interaction, others were turning a blind eye.

"really?" he asked.

you found yourself glaring at him, despite the uneven match. "yeah."

the boy paused and surveyed you, his nasty gaze raking over you. his lips curled into a smirk. "ha! why should i believe you?"

you resolve crumbled. you whimpered at the failed attempt to get the fuck out of here which did nothing for your case.

"aw, sad you got found out?" he grinned down at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. "it's okay, we can go somewhere together after this, how about that?"

you scoffed, crossing your arms. "i said i have a boyfriend." who, for all the class he lacked, had way more class than this piece of shit.

that seemed to anger the boy. "quit lyin, we know you ain't got shit."

mikey, please just notice me. you begged silently, hoping for some miracle that'd get you out of this situation.

"did you hear me?" the boy hissed, grabbing your wrists. you gasped and glared at him, pulling against him with all your might. "quit—" he grunted. "cut that out!"

you felt cornered and tears pooled in your eyes. your heart felt almost cold as you let your impulses take over, screaming, "let go!"

mikey was eagerly listening as his captains addressed the gang, but his mind was still looking for you in the crowd. he searched for minutes and still couldn't find anything.

he wilted. was he just a bad boyfriend? not being able to recognize his girl in a crowd?

then he heard murmuring, hushed whispers, before he heard your voice.

"let go!"

his face scrunched and he rose to his feet. let go? who had their hands on you?

he marched to the front of the platform, scanning the crowd with newfound intensity. draken seemed to notice and did the work for him.

"oi!" draken's voice made the gang fall silent. even the guy who acted big froze in front of you. "why the fuck do you have your back turned to your leader when he's addressing you?"

mikey saw a couple boys distance themselves from the commotion, where he saw. anger flared into his body and he itched to beat someone to death.

you were looking at him, completely distraught.

he flew down the stairs, shoving past the members towards you. hatred radiated off him in waves as his eyes never left the sight in front of him. someone—his gang members—were fucking disrespecting you. he felt embarrassed and enraged.

the boy who had pressured you immediately let go. you stumbled backwards before looking at mikey. even now, you didn't know if you should run to him in front of everyone.

your doubts were squashed when he opened his arms. you inhaled deeply. your breath shook as you blinked the tears from your eyes, speedwalking towards him. the silence was killing you. what a reveal, you thought. you didn't care though, just happy to be in mikey's arms.

mikey hugged you tightly, pulling back to observe you for any damage. he ghosted his fingers over your wrists. "did they hurt you?"

you gulped at the menacing edge to his voice. you shook your head. he gave your wrists a soothing squeeze.

the aggressors' eyes flickered between you and their leader.

you smiled sweetly and pointed at mikey, mouthing boyfriend!

they paled.

you grinned. get fucked.

"do you know what you just did?" mikey asked, shrugging off his coat and putting it around your shoulders. he walked past you.

"h-hey... i didn't know—" the guy scrambled backwards, his voice dripping with desperation.

"who cares?" mikey's eyes were cloudy. "even if she weren't mine, are you trying to make toman look bad? if you're gonna be pathetic, do it somewhere else."

the guy took that as a cue to leave, quickly turning around.

"who said you could leave?"

you blinked and he was on the ground, mikey's foot landing gracefully.

"huh?" you mumbled. before you could even process it, he was standing over the other bystanders, holding them by their shirt as he landed punch after punch.

when they were all piles of bones on the floor he stood up, dusting his pants and slipping his hands in his pockets. "you're not welcome in toman. you better not let your faces be seen around here any more or i'll bash your head in."

you pulled the wings of mikey's coat closer to your body. despite the violence, you felt... warm and soothed by mikey's actions.

draken dismissed the meeting and the gang practically ran out of there, eager to get out of mikey's area of impact. the founding members and emma remained.

mitsuya looked sheepish when he asked, "i guess she really was in love with you, huh?"

mikey turned his nose in the air. "of course. why would i lie about that?"

pah scoffed. "do you even know yourself?"

you inched closer to mikey, unsure of your place here. he held you by your waist, reassuring you. your racing heart slowed down, little by little.

"hey." surprisingly, draken looked a little embarrassed, probably because he treated you like some rando when you were mikey's girlfriend. "you... we're not like that brat, okay?"

"yeah, what a disgrace!" pah interrupted, huffing.

"you don't have to be afraid." draken continued, glaring at pah. "just like mikey, we'll look out for you."

you smiled, coming out of mikey's side just a little. "thank you. i'm y/n, by the way."

mitsuya groaned. "oh, now it all makes sense." you voiced a confused hum and he elaborated, telling you that mikey would always go on and on about you. his friends thought you were just a crush of his, and since they'd never saw you they honestly thought you were a figment of his hormonal imagination.

your cheeks burned. "oh... no, i'm totally real."

emma peeked out from behind draken. her eyes were glossy and she sniffed, toddling towards you. "y/nnnn!" she wailed, hugging you. "i'm so sorry!"

you pat her back. "emma, it's not your fault! oh my god. please don't cry!" you looked at mikey for help but he just smiled. that smile faded when he realized that his friends and sister were slowly pushing him outside their little circle, wanting to know everything.

"okay, get off." mikey's demeanor changed in an instant. he slipped in under draken's arm and grabbed your hand, tugging you behind him.

"hey, no fair!" emma exclaimed, running after her brother. "you had her for who knows how long but i can't even get to talk to her for five minutes?!"

mikey sped up, laughing. "she's my girlfriend, not yours!"

"mikey!"

his bright laughter brought a smile to your face. he mounted his bike and made sure you were secure before revving off into the distance, his friends hot on his tail.

you gripped mikey's torso, nuzzling into his back. "thank you."

"don't thank me." mikey replied, quiet. "should've never happened in the first place."

your cheek rested on his shoulder blade, staring at him. his hair cascaded just enough to obscure his eyes from view. "i'm glad i have a strong boyfriend to protect me." you giggled.

his chest puffed with pride. "i am pretty strong."

you rolled your eyes.

"but it's not just us anymore." he turned his head to meet your eyes. "you have a new family, now. and they're all gonna look out for you."

your jaw hurt from how hard you smiled. your heart fluttered. resting your head on his back again, you squeezed him tight.

[]

the peaceful drive soon turned into a competition when the toman captains tried to race mikey down, determined for answers. emma, who rode on draken's bike, was especially vicious.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers #tokrev fluff #sano manjiro #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #mikey fluff #mikey imagines #mikey sano #tokyo manji gang

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edenesth · 1 month ago

Text

01. The Captain — By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

Pairing: gang leader!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Word Count: 18.1k

Summary: The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, scars, mentions of murder and SA, language, contains dark themes in general

SERIES MASTERLIST | ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The dim glow of lantern light flickered across the room as the gang leader held the letter between his fingers, turning it over with a scrutinising gaze. His brow arched slightly, the ivory wax seal bearing the unmistakable insignia of the White Serpents—a gang notorious for their cunning and deception, their pristine image masking venomous intent. Silent but deadly, serpents poised to strike. And Hongjoong knew them well.

"Well?" His voice was calm, almost amused, as he studied the coded message in his hand.

Yunho exhaled sharply with a shake of his head, frustration etched across his face. "She's stubborn. Won't admit to a thing. Twenty-four hours, and still nothing."

The Captain's smirk widened, dark amusement playing in his eyes. "Really? Even with this treacherous letter in her possession?" He tapped the envelope lightly. "Twenty-four hours… that's impressive. No dog has ever lasted that long." His tone was laced with mock intrigue. "Perhaps she's an especially loyal one. How interesting."

He leaned back, nodding toward the heavy iron doors leading to the basement, his voice low and confident. "A tough one to crack, no doubt. But they all crack… eventually." The distant echo of chains rattling and the creak of the doors opening sent a chill through the air. The game had only just begun.

Let's see just how long you can last.

The room was dim, suffocating in its silence, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of damp stone. Your breath hitched as consciousness clawed its way back, and the cold, unforgiving chill bit at your drenched skin. You blinked through the sting of icy water clinging to your lashes, your trembling gaze rising to meet the source of the voice that shattered the oppressive stillness.

"Congratulations, miss!" The sudden, mocking boom made you flinch, fear coiling tighter around your chest. "You're the first to last a full day in these chambers. How very impressive!"

The man before you was smaller than the one who had been 'questioning' you earlier—a tall, lanky figure whose blows you could still feel—but this one's presence was far more terrifying. Cold authority radiated from him, his smile a twisted mockery of warmth. He stepped closer, his sharp eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "I trust my boys have treated you well."

A shiver tore through you, body wracked with uncontrollable tremors—whether from the bitter cold or the malice in his voice, you couldn't tell. His grin widened, and the false politeness only made it worse. "Fear not, my lady," he purred, his tone soft and deadly. "I'll treat you even better… until you decide to be honest, of course."

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, despair crashing over you. You tried to shake your head, but your body was too weak and cold to offer feeble resistance. And yet, you knew—this was only the beginning.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wished for the thousandth—no, the millionth—time that this was all a nightmare. The cold seeped into your bones, but it wasn't just the chill that made you tremble. It was the gnawing fear, the hopelessness that clung to you like a second skin.

How did it come to this?

You replayed the events over and over in your mind, searching for an answer, but all you found was confusion. Just a day or two ago, you had been weaving through the bustling port, arms laden with imported goods for your employer. The crowded streets were alive with noise—merchants shouting, sailors hauling cargo, smugglers slipping through the shadows. You had only wanted to return to work, unaware that fate had already marked you.

Then it happened. A sharp turn into an alley. The sudden grip of rough hands. Black-clothed men cornering you like wolves circling their prey, eyes sharp and merciless. Their accusations—espionage, treachery—made no sense. You tried to explain, voice trembling, but they didn't listen. Not until they tore through your belongings and fished out a letter—one you had never seen before.

The blow came swiftly, a fist to your face, and the world went dark.

Now, here you were. Broken. Bleeding. Trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

"P-please… I d-don't know who the Wh-white Serpents are," you stammered, forcing your swollen eye open to meet the man who seemed to command the room, his presence suffocating. "I s-swear…"

Hongjoong's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his irritation barely concealed behind a mask of feigned calm. "You know," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous softness, "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that again." He exhaled in a mock sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Now you've left me no choice."

With deliberate steps, he moved toward the glowing embers at the far side of the room. The fire crackled, and your breath hitched when he wrapped his hand around a hot branding iron, its tip glowing ominously.

No, please...

Panic surged through you, and tears spilt uncontrollably down your cheeks. You didn't even have the strength to sob anymore. You could only watch in frozen terror as he turned back, the iron in his grasp radiating heat and menace.

"Come on," he cooed, voice deceptively gentle. "I'd really hate to ruin such pretty skin. All you have to do is be a good girl—tell me what this blasted letter says. Tell me the name of your boss." His grin was sharp, dangerous, but beneath it, you sensed his patience was threadbare.

The White Serpents. The name alone ignited his fury. Their faces were always hidden, their identities a mystery. Even their leader remained a ghost, a phantom in white. And that infuriated him more than anything—an enemy he couldn't see, couldn't predict.

And now, you were his only lead.

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his frustration. The dim light flickered over the cold stone walls, shadows dancing like spectres of every soul that had suffered here before you. His grip on the branding iron tightened, the metal searing hot in his hand, glowing with menace. He didn't want to take this step—truly, he didn't. But the memory of how they found you replayed in his mind, solidifying his certainty.

You were guilty. You had to be.

He clenched his jaw, recalling the chaos at the port. The Black Pirates were in the midst of a crucial covert operation, tensions strung taut like a wire. They had been waiting for the White Serpents to make a move, for the elusive spy to slip through their defences. The streets were crowded, the perfect cover for deception.

Then there was you.

A simple girl, or so it seemed, navigating the busy market with unsuspecting ease. Unbeknownst to you, the real spy—the one they had been hunting—moved silently through the crowd. In a calculated move, the informant slipped the coded letter into your bag and vanished into the sea of bodies before anyone could catch him.

Hongjoong's men, sharp-eyed and vigilant, saw the handoff. They reacted swiftly, believing they had caught the elusive spy. You were cornered in the alley, fear etched across your face as you begged for understanding, your confusion only cementing their suspicions. The letter was damning enough. Evidence was evidence, and the Captain trusted his crew's intelligence.

But now, staring at you—broken, trembling, tears staining your bruised cheeks—he felt the edges of his certainty fraying. You persisted in your pleas, clinging to innocence with a desperation that should have crumbled by now. And yet… you hadn't.

"Last chance, woman," he said coldly, his voice like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. The heat from the iron radiated, the threat palpable. "There will be no going back from here. I'm sure you know that."

He meant the words as a warning for you, a final offer before he left mercy behind. But deep down, perhaps they were a warning for himself, too—a foreshadowing he didn't yet grasp.

You shook your head weakly, trembling from exhaustion and terror. Still no confession. Still the same maddening persistence.

Hongjoong raised the branding iron, holding it close to your battered face. His eyes burned with something dangerous, something teetering between anger and frustration.

"Well then," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the finality in his tone sealing your fate—or so he thought.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The air in the torture chamber hung heavy with the acrid stench of scorched flesh, mingling with the damp chill of the stone walls. His cold, calculating gaze never wavered as he watched you, unconscious and crumpled on the floor, your body trembling even in unconsciousness. The mark of the Black Pirates seared into your back, raw and angry, a testament to the brutality you'd endured.

"That'll scar for life," one of his men muttered, a mix of awe and amusement in his voice.

Hongjoong let out a low, humourless chuckle, his eyes dark with unrelenting resolve. "For life?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "How optimistic. I doubt she'll live long enough to see the next sunrise if she continues to be this stubborn."

His voice was void of emotion, laced with a chilling indifference that sent a shiver through even the most hardened of his men. He didn't enjoy this—not exactly—but he had no patience for weakness. If you wouldn't talk, you were nothing but a liability, and liabilities were dealt with swiftly.

He turned away for a moment, tossing the branding iron back into the fire with a careless flick of his wrist. Embers exploded in every direction, but he paid them no mind. "We've wasted enough time on her," he said, voice cold and final. "If she doesn't confess after this, end it. Finish her."

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire, the finality of his words hanging in the air like a death sentence. One of the guards nodded, his expression stoic. "Of course, boss."

Hongjoong motioned toward the bucket of dirty water beside you, its murky surface rippling with the slightest movement. "Wake her," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy, anticipating the agony that would soon follow.

The guard lifted the bucket with ease, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he approached. Without hesitation, he tilted it, the filthy water cascading over your battered body. The moment the contaminated water hit your wounds, especially the fresh burn, your body convulsed violently.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and guttural, piercing through the oppressive stillness. It wasn't the kind of scream that came from fear—it was the sound of pure, unfiltered agony.

The Captain didn't flinch. He stood tall, arms crossed, watching with a detached curiosity as you writhed on the floor. "That's better," he muttered, almost to himself. "Now, let's see if you're ready to talk."

He crouched down beside you, his face an unreadable mask. "Final chance," he said softly, almost tenderly, as if mocking your suffering. "Who sent you?" His voice dipped lower, dangerously calm. "Or would you prefer to die in this filth, unloved and forgotten?"

The only response was the ragged sound of your breath, broken sobs wracking your body. His patience was wearing thin, and though he was a man known for his control, he was ready to end this.

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, each gasp searing through your lungs like fire. The icy water clung to your battered body, every drop seeping into your open wounds, amplifying the unbearable pain. Your vision blurred, the dim room spinning into shadows and smoke, but you clung to the fragments of your thoughts, the last remnants of who you were.

This is it, you thought, the realisation settling over you with a strange, hollow calm. This is how it ends.

You didn't know why these monsters had dragged you into their nightmare, why they believed you were a spy. You didn't understand the cruel fate that had brought you here, only that it had. And now, there was no escape. The man before you, with his cold eyes and cruel smirk, had made that clear.

Your body trembled violently, not from the cold but from the acceptance creeping into your heart. Death will be a mercy, you thought. Better this than more agony.

Closing your eyes, you let the numbness wash over you, a strange kind of peace taking root beneath the layers of fear. You thought of your friends—the laughter shared over simple joys. You thought of your family, their faces blurred by memory but still holding warmth. And you thought of your employer, the one person who had seen worth in you when the world turned away. You prayed they would not grieve too long. You prayed they would find solace.

I'll watch over them, you promised silently. From wherever I'm going.

The wet, acrid air filled your lungs, heavy and suffocating. Every second stretched into eternity, and you waited for the final blow, the one that would release you. Your heartbeat slowed, the frantic rhythm giving way to a dull, distant echo.

And then, the room grew deathly quiet.

Hongjoong remained crouched, studying you, his iron grip on control unwavering. He didn't speak immediately, and that was almost worse. The silence pressed down, a suffocating weight, as if the world was holding its breath.

"Still nothing?" His voice was soft now, eerily gentle, like a predator savouring the last moments before the kill.

You didn't respond. Couldn't. There was nothing left to say. You were ready for the end.

And then, with a slow exhale, you heard him murmur almost to himself, "What a shame."

The gang leader let out a long, slow breath, his head shaking slightly, a humourless smile curving his lips. His eyes lingered on your broken form, slumped over, trembling and soaked, but utterly still, as if you had already crossed into death's grasp. Your eyes fluttered shut, the last spark of defiance extinguished. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, dusting off his coat with deliberate care, and with a curt nod, gestured toward his men.

"Finish it."

The words were cold and final, slicing through the room like a blade. One of the guards stepped forward, the metallic click of his gun cocking echoing in the dim space, followed by the low scrape of his boot on the wet floor. Hongjoong turned his back on you, jaw tight, waiting for the shot to ring out, waiting for the moment to pass so he could move on from this wasted effort.

But then— footsteps. Quick and urgent, echoing down the stone stairway.

"Wait."

The voice was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a sudden gust of wind. The room froze, the guard's finger hovering over the trigger as all eyes turned toward the stairs. Yeosang emerged from the shadows, his usual cool composure replaced by something unsettled. His sharp gaze darted toward your barely conscious form before locking onto his captain, his face unreadable, but his unease unmistakable.

Hongjoong's brow lifted in mild curiosity, though his patience was wearing thin. "What is it, Yeo?" he asked, voice clipped as the Phantom strode forward, his expression grave.

Yeosang leaned in close, his voice low but firm as he murmured something into the gang leader's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. Whatever he said, it landed like a blow. Hongjoong's entire posture shifted. His jaw clenched, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides as he processed the whispered words.

The room held its collective breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the Captain straightened, his eyes dark with a new kind of frustration, though there was no mistaking the glimmer of something else—regret? Anger? It was impossible to tell.

His voice, when it came, was sharp and decisive. "Release her."

The room erupted in a flurry of confusion, but no one dared question him. The guard with the gun hesitated for only a second before lowering it, stepping back. Another moved to untie the chains binding your wrists, the cold iron clattering to the floor as your limp body crumpled forward.

Hongjoong's gaze never wavered, his face carved from stone as he watched you collapse. His men obeyed without question, though their confusion was palpable, the tension still thick in the air.

As you slumped to the ground, barely conscious, he let out another breath, slow and controlled, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Take her to the infirmary," he commanded, voice icy but steady. "And keep her alive."

His men exchanged uncertain glances but quickly moved to obey, lifting your frail body with care as they carried you out. He remained rooted, his eyes lingering on the bloodstained floor, his fists clenched once more as Yeosang watched him silently.

"I hope for your sake," Hongjoong muttered under his breath, "this wasn't a mistake."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The heavy oak door to his office slammed shut behind him, the echo reverberating through the grand but cold space. Hongjoong paced across the dimly lit room, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls, but offering no warmth. His hand shook slightly as he poured another shot of whiskey, the amber liquid splashing over the rim. He didn't care. He downed it in one swift motion, the burn doing little to drown the bile rising in his throat.

Wrong person.

His brother's words replayed in his mind like a curse, each syllable a dagger to his pride.

"Hyung, we got the wrong person. She's not the spy—the real one escaped. This woman was just... there. A scapegoat."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The whiskey glass slammed down on the desk, the sharp crack of glass against wood making his men just outside the door flinch. But none dared to enter. They knew better.

His fists balled at his sides, trembling with suppressed rage—at Yeosang, at his crew, at himself. The sight of your bloodied form flashed in his mind, the raw agony in your voice as he pressed the searing iron into your skin. He could still hear the echoes of your pleas, the desperate, broken words you had whispered over and over: I'm not who you think I am... please...

He should have known.

How could he have missed it? The way you had looked at him, not with defiance or guilt but with pure, unfiltered fear and confusion. He was Kim Hongjoong, the Captain of the Black fuckin' Pirates—his instincts had never failed him before. Yet this time, he had been blinded by rage, by the need for control, and it had led him to commit an unforgivable mistake.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk, the polished surface groaning under the strain. No amount of wealth or power in this city could erase the image of your battered, broken body lying on the cold floor. The branded mark he had burned into your back would scar, not just on your skin but in his mind, forever.

The Black Pirates were ruthless, yes, but not reckless. Innocents were not meant to be collateral unless there was no other choice. This... this was different. It was unacceptable.

He let out a low, bitter laugh, hollow and laced with self-loathing. "How could this happen?" he muttered to no one, his voice cracking. "I'm the one who doesn't make mistakes."

But this was a mistake. A fatal one, if Yeosang hadn't intervened.

The storm inside him raged on, unrelenting. No amount of whiskey could drown it, no fire could warm the cold knot in his chest. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong felt something foreign and unwelcome searing through him.

Regret.

He sank into the leather chair behind his desk, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His hands covered his face, shaking as if he could scrub away the guilt, the shame. But it was branded on him now, just as deeply as the mark he had scorched into your skin.

After what felt like hours, he remained in his office, standing by the window, the golden light of the waning sun casting a sharp contrast against the deep shadows in the room. His gaze pierced through the glass, locking onto the tall, black gates of their mansion—gates that symbolised power, control, and security. Yet today, they felt like bars of a prison. He imagined how those gates must have looked to you, cold and foreboding, as you were dragged inside, far from the life you knew, thrust into a nightmare you hadn't earned.

He clenched his jaw, fists curling at his sides as the weight of his guilt continued to press down on him. One mistake. One mistake. That's all it had taken to bring you here. A mistake from his men, from him, and it had led to your torture. His throat tightened as those cruel memories clawed at him: your ragged pleas, your broken body, and worst of all, his voice—cold, detached, ruthless—demanding answers you didn't have.

Remorse surged through him, an agonising tide that refused to ebb. His own words echoed in his mind, venomous and unforgiving: "Be a good girl and tell us what this blasted letter says." His stomach twisted, the taste of bile bitter on his tongue.

He turned away from the window, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if the pain could drown out the memories. But it only intensified the haunting vision that consumed him: his mother's lifeless eyes, staring into nothingness, wide with fear and betrayal. She had died for nothing—used, discarded, and left to rot by men who saw her as collateral damage. All for debts that weren't hers to pay.

He had been just a boy—useless and powerless—as he watched her lifeblood seep into the dirt, all because of his degenerate father, who had left them behind with nothing but mountains of debt. The loan sharks had spared him, a mistake they didn't live to regret. Hongjoong had spent years rising from the ashes of that helpless child, becoming the monster who hunted monsters, the leader who swore to tear down anyone who preyed on the innocent.

Yet now, here he was, no different from the men who had taken his mother from him.

He slammed a fist onto the desk, the sharp crack splitting the heavy silence. His breathing was ragged, uneven, as his mind spiralled into the past. He had sworn not to harm the innocent.

But he had failed. He had repeated the very sin that had shaped him.

They weren't heroes. The Black Pirates were thieves, smugglers, outlaws. But they lived by one code: never harm those who didn't deserve it. They stole from the corrupt, the greedy, those who exploited the powerless. They were not saviours, but they were not supposed to be butchers either.

And now, because of his blindness, you lay broken and scarred—an innocent woman caught in the crossfire of his rage.

His hands trembled as he dragged them through his hair, staring blankly at the dark wood beneath him. His reflection in the glass across the room looked unfamiliar—haunted, lost, and consumed by a regret that would never fade.

How can I ever make this right?

The oppressive silence in the room was broken by a familiar deep voice, one he always sought when the weight of leadership became too much. "She's stable," Seonghwa said, his tone calm yet sombre.

Hongjoong exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, relief flooding through him like a tide that couldn't quite wash away the guilt. "Stable," he echoed, the word offering little solace.

His brother stepped closer, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound between them. "They've patched her up... but I don't think some of the scars will ever go away." His voice dipped into something quieter, almost apologetic. "Especially not that mark."

The gang leader winced, his fingers tightening into trembling fists. The brand—his brand—seared into her back, a permanent testament to his cruelty. "The mark," he muttered, voice hoarse with regret. "She'll carry it because of me."

Seonghwa leaned against the edge of the desk, folding his arms, watching him with a measured gaze. "Because of us," he corrected, though the words offered no comfort. "But this isn't like you. You don't make mistakes like this."

Hongjoong let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "And yet, I did. I fucked up. She begged, Hwa." His voice cracked, raw and ragged. "She begged, and I didn't listen."

The eldest's face softened, but he didn't look away. "Regret is pointless if it doesn't drive change," he said quietly. "We can't undo what's been done. But maybe... maybe we can still make it right."

Hongjoong looked up, his eyes hollow but desperate. "How?"

Seonghwa met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "By giving her a choice. Her freedom. Protection if she wants it. You can't erase the scars, but you can make sure she's never harmed again."

The Captain's jaw clenched. "And if she wants nothing from us? If she wants nothing to do with the Black Pirates?"

"Then you let her go," Seonghwa replied simply, his voice steady. "With the assurance that she'll never have to fear us again."

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tension coiling in his shoulders. "I don't deserve forgiveness."

"No," the Gentleman agreed softly, his voice firm but kind. "But it's not about what you deserve. It's about what she does."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any weapon, cutting deeper than any blade.

Hongjoong dragged his hands through his hair, the tremor in them betraying the turmoil within. "Tell them to keep her comfortable," he whispered, voice barely audible. "And... let me know when she wakes up."

Seonghwa inclined his head, moving toward the door but paused before stepping out. "You may never forgive yourself, Joong," he said, his voice softer now, "but that doesn't mean you can't try to do better."

As the door clicked shut behind him, the leader was left alone with the echoes of his guilt—and the faintest, most fragile glimmer of hope.

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The quiet hum of the infirmary filled the air, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the bedside table. Hongjoong stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked on your still form lying on the cot. The sight twisted something deep inside him, the sharp pang of guilt slicing through him once again.

"Hyung?" Jongho's voice pulled him from his reverie, soft but laced with surprise. "Why are you here?" His brows knitted together in confusion as he stepped closer. "Seonghwa hyung said to only inform you when she's awake. She's not—"

The gang leader cut him off with a subtle shake of his head. "I had to see if she's okay... for myself." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "You're dismissed. I'll take over."

Jongho hesitated, his eyes searching his leader's face, filled with concern and something unspoken. "Hyung..."

"I won't..." Hongjoong's voice faltered, his throat tightening. "I won't hurt her any further, Jongho."

The youngest sighed softly, the tension in the room heavy between them. "That's not what I—"

"I know," Hongjoong interrupted, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It's fine. Just... go thank the doctor for me."

Jongho lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the Captain's worn expression. Finally, he gave a respectful bow of his head. "I'll be nearby if you need me."

With that, the Anchor left, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving Hongjoong alone with the stillness once more.

He stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and sank into the chair beside the bed. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, resting them on his knees. He could barely bring himself to look at you, the bandages wrapped around your body stark against your pale skin, the ghost of the agony he had inflicted still lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words breaking like fragile glass. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

The apology felt hollow, inadequate, but it was all he had. He sat there, staring at you, hoping that somehow, even in sleep, you might hear him. But the only response was the steady rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic proof that you were alive.

Alive, but not whole.

He leaned back, his head tipping against the wall, the weight of everything crushing down on him. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong—the feared Captain of the Black Pirates—felt utterly powerless.

His eyes, unwilling to linger any longer on the bandages covering your wounded body, drifted downward. There, beneath the cot, something caught his attention. A crumpled, dirt-streaked tote bag sat neglected, its once vibrant fabric marred by careless fingerprints—his men's fingerprints.

He furrowed his brows and leaned forward, retrieving the bag with careful hands as if it might break apart at any moment. The stitching was amateur but charming, the drawings simple yet endearing. Scrawled in bright, cheerful lettering at the centre were the words Marigold Gift Shop.

It looked so out of place here in the dim and sterile infirmary, like a splash of sunlight drowning in shadow.

He set the bag on his lap and gently pried it open. The contents were jumbled, chaotic, but it was clear that everything inside once held meaning. Trinkets, small souvenirs from the port—a handful of seashells, a hand-painted keychain, and a delicate glass charm in the shape of a flower. These were not the belongings of a spy.

He reached deeper and pulled out a tiny notebook, its edges worn from use. His fingers brushed over the cover before flipping it open. The pages were filled with neat, dainty handwriting—simple lists:

Small wooden carvings

Candles (lavender & sea breeze)

Handmade bookmarks

Seashell jewellery

It wasn't just a list of purchases—it was a routine, mundane, innocent.

Hongjoong's throat constricted, and his hands trembled as the realisation struck him anew: you had been working. You had been on an errand for your job at the Marigold Gift Shop when they dragged you into their nightmare.

His vision blurred, his breath catching in his chest.

You had no idea who they were. No idea what danger you had stumbled into. You were just there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it cost you everything.

Hongjoong squeezed the notebook shut, resting it against his forehead as though it could somehow absolve him of the crushing guilt. People must be looking for you—your friends, your family, your employer. The ones who had sent you on this errand, trusting you would return safely.

And now, what could he give them? A broken, scarred version of the vibrant soul they had lost. How could he face them? How could he return you to them like this?

He sat in silence, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional drip of water from the infirmary's ceiling. His gaze lingered on the crumpled tote bag resting on his lap, its cheerful colours muted beneath the grime. His fingers traced the fabric absentmindedly before he noticed the bucket of clean water and a spare rag near your cot.

For reasons he didn't fully understand, he stood and reached for the rag, dipping it into the water. The cloth came away damp and cool, and he squeezed out the excess with slow, deliberate movements. It was a strange sight—Kim Hongjoong, feared leader of the Black Pirates, bent over a bag, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime.

He worked in silence, the world narrowing to this singular task. Each stroke of the rag against the fabric felt like an apology he couldn't utter aloud. Slowly, painstakingly, he cleaned the tote, rubbing away the stains until the bright colours began to peek through again. The cheerful drawings and stitched patterns reemerged, fragile yet resilient beneath the care of his steady hands.

Piece by piece, he began to arrange your belongings. The trinkets were cleaned and carefully set back in place—each seashell, the delicate glass flower charm, the hand-painted keychain. He smoothed out the tiny notebook, the pages no longer crumpled but straightened with the same precision he reserved for the most critical of plans.

As he worked, he felt a strange lightness settle over him. He hadn't noticed the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips until it faded, replaced by the weight of reality as his gaze shifted back to you.

The bag, now pristine, sat neatly on the table beside you, a quiet testament to his care—a care no one, not even his brothers, had seen in years.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at you, at the bandages wrapped around your broken body, and the regret clawed at his chest again. His smile had vanished entirely, replaced by the grim determination that only guilt could bring.

How could he make this right? How could he even begin? Would you ever be able to forgive him, or himself, for what he had done?

The questions lingered unanswered in the stillness as he sat back down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together.

He didn't know the answers. All he knew was that he had to try.

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The world swirled in an agonising haze as your consciousness began to claw its way back. Every inch of your body screamed in pain, each bruise, cut, and wound making itself known like fire crawling beneath your skin. It was almost impossible to grasp the full weight of the agony—how could anyone describe the sensation of pain this overwhelming? It was a deep, suffocating thing that made every breath feel like a battle.

You tried to open your eyes, but even that small movement was an assault on your senses. The brightness behind your eyelids was too much, the pressure of it sending a wave of dizziness crashing over you. When you managed to blink, your eyes watered uncontrollably, the effort alone nearly too much to bear. The burn on your back, the curse of that mark—his mark—lingered like a red-hot brand, the pain compounded by the memory of it being tainted with filthy, contaminated water. You couldn't even tell if the pain had dulled or if it was just the agony of everything else making it seem like the worst of it. Even if you didn't die from your injuries, you were certain that infection would claim you before long.

Slowly, with a whimper that barely escaped your cracked lips, you arched your back, instinctively trying to relieve the burning pain from the mark. The movement was weak, your body screaming in protest, but the sensation was a small reprieve. As you forced your eyes open again, blinking over and over to get your bearings, your vision began to sharpen, and the haze of confusion began to recede, bit by bit.

The white ceiling above you was a sharp contrast to the hellish basement you had been trapped in. A sterile smell filled the air, the kind that only came from a medical facility. You were no longer in that filthy, oppressive place. Were you safe now? Had someone rescued you? Was it the authorities? Or perhaps your friends, your family, or your employer had noticed you were missing and raised the alarm? Had they found you in time?

You desperately hoped for any answer that could bring you some sense of peace, but the sight before you shattered that hope in an instant.

Turning your head slightly, you froze. The tears that had started to retreat at the thought of safety now rushed back with full force. There, sitting in a chair beside your bed, was the man who had nearly ended your life.

His face was shadowed in exhaustion, his posture slumped slightly as if he'd nodded off in his seat. His presence hit you like a blow to the chest, a knot of raw fear twisting in your gut. The man who had tortured you, who had burned you, who had broken you was right there. The man who was responsible for every inch of pain you'd endured.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and despite your body's desperate need to remain still, the fear surged within you. You couldn't help but tremble, a silent cry of terror rising in your chest.

But even in your panic, something else stirred—a strange, foreign confusion. He was here. In this room. But he wasn't hurting you. Was he... watching over you? Was this some new kind of torment? A psychological game? The thought made your head spin.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you tried to shift, but your body refused to obey. You were broken in every sense of the word, and now, trapped by your own fear and pain, you couldn't make sense of anything. All you knew was that the man who had caused all of this—the man who had dragged you into this nightmare—was right there, inches away from you.

And you had no idea what it meant.

Your attempts to keep your sobs quiet failed, the soft, broken sounds escaping against your will. Each tremor in your chest seemed to echo in the sterile room, and despite the pain, your body recoiled in fear as you saw him stir. His brow furrowed, eyes fluttering open slowly, the grogginess of sleep fading as he registered the sound—and then, his gaze locked with yours.

Panic surged through you, your breath hitching violently as his dark eyes met your own, wide and trembling, your irises blown out with terror. You wanted to scream, to run, but your body betrayed you, too weak and broken to do anything but sink further into the thin blanket covering you. All you could do was shrink back, the ache in your body drowned out by the overwhelming fear coursing through your veins.

Hongjoong froze, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, he sat up straighter, slowly, deliberately, as if trying not to startle you further. His jaw clenched, and for a second, the silence stretched unbearably between you. He raised his hands carefully, palms facing you in a universal gesture of peace, his movements measured and cautious, like one might approach a wounded animal.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice low and careful, as though it might shatter you further. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

You didn't believe him. How could you? The fear in your eyes deepened, your body curling instinctively beneath the covers, though every movement brought fresh waves of agony. Your eyes darted around the room, seeking escape, seeking anyone else—but it was only him.

He sighed, a heavy sound filled with something that almost resembled regret. He stayed seated, keeping his hands up, as if showing he was unarmed would make any difference to the scars he had already left on you. "Nobody will hurt you again," he said, and his voice trembled, just barely. "That... that includes me."

You watched him, breath ragged, your body trembling with the effort to stay still. He swallowed hard, the guilt written in every line of his face as he continued, his tone thick with something you couldn't name—shame? Guilt? Desperation? "I know this is all very confusing, and you have no reason to trust me, but we made a mistake. I made a mistake."

He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed again, struggling with the weight of the words. "You're not who we thought you were. And for that—for everything we... I put you through—I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air, but it did nothing to ease the terror in your heart. It sounded sincere, but sincerity didn't erase the pain, the scars, the nightmare that still lingered in your mind. It didn't change the fact that this man, who now sat before you looking so remorseful, had been the one to destroy you.

Tears continued to stream down your face, and all you could do was stare at him, disbelieving and broken, the word sorry echoing hollowly in your mind. He had taken everything from you, and now he expected that word to make it right?

The silence stretched between you, fragile and suffocating, as you lay there—shattered, terrified, and unsure of what came next.

As if your body had decided to break the unbearable silence itself, your stomach let out a loud, insistent growl. The sound was jarring in the stillness, so absurdly out of place that it caught both of you off guard. You gasped, clutching the thin blanket tighter to your face, cheeks burning despite the pain radiating through your body. Humiliation and fear clashed within you. Would he be disgusted? Would he regret sparing you? Was this the moment he'd change his mind?

You couldn't help but brace yourself.

But instead of anger or disdain, he simply blinked in surprise before his lips parted, and he mumbled softly, "Oh, right. Stupid me. You must be starving." His voice carried a gentleness that was almost foreign, as if the words were meant more for himself than you.

The wooden chair scraped lightly against the floor as he pushed it back, the sound startling in the quiet room. He stood slowly, the motion casual, almost hesitant. "I'll bring you something to eat," he said, the words so ordinary, so kind, that they felt unreal.

And then, just like that, he walked out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

You lay frozen, staring at the spot where he'd been moments ago, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Your mind spun in confusion, trying to reconcile the man who had tortured you with the one who now spoke softly and promised food. Was this some twisted game? Was he really going to bring you food—or was it laced with poison, a final, cruel trick?

But if he wanted you dead, why not just finish it when he had the chance? Why tend to your wounds, only to kill you later? The questions swirled relentlessly.

You bit your trembling lip, tears pricking the corners of your eyes again. He could have killed you. You had seen it in his eyes that day—the moment he gave the final order. You had accepted it then, surrendering to fate, your body succumbing to the darkness.

Yet here you were. Alive.

Still shaking, you turned your head to the door, trying to comprehend the reality before you. Was this real? Was he truly changing—or was this a prelude to something worse?

The confusion and fear gnawed at you, but beneath it, a glimmer of something unfamiliar lingered.

Hope.

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"Here," he said softly, holding out a spoonful of chicken soup to your lips. The aroma was heavenly—rich and savoury, exactly what your starved body craved after days without food. Your stomach clenched painfully in response, desperate for sustenance. Yet, despite the temptation, you frowned and turned your face away.

He sighed, his hand lowering slightly but not withdrawing entirely. The bowl in his other hand trembled ever so slightly as if he wasn't sure what to do next. Finally, he set it gently on the table beside you, the warm liquid inside rippling quietly.

Eyes trailing after his movements, you caught sight of your bag resting there. It wasn't in the state you remembered—no longer a crumpled, filthy mess. It had been cleaned meticulously, every stitch visible and tidy, the fabric now free from dirt and grime.

His voice interrupted your thoughts, soft and almost hesitant. "Oh yeah, your bag. I... got busy while you were sleeping and cleaned it up."

You clutched the blanket tighter, sceptical. Him? Cleaning your bag? It was absurd.

"Everything inside too," he added, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You have some pretty cool stuff."

Your eyes widened, heart racing. He touched your things? Against your better judgement, you reached out, wanting to verify the state of your belongings, only to let out a sharp cry as pain flared through your body with the movement.

He was beside you instantly, his hands hovering, unsure whether to touch or retreat. His face twisted in something that looked suspiciously like hurt when you recoiled, sinking back into the bed to avoid him.

Clearing his throat, he asked, voice soft, "You want your bag?"

You nodded timidly, watching him closely. His small smile returned, gentle and relieved. "Let me help you," he murmured, pulling his chair closer. He placed the bag on the bed between you both, unzipping it carefully for you to see inside.

For the first time since waking up, your eyes softened. Everything was as he said—clean, neatly arranged. Trembling fingers reached out for the glass flower charm nestled inside, your favourite trinket. But before you could touch it, your stomach betrayed you again with a loud, desperate growl.

Humiliated, you drew your hand back, shrinking into yourself.

He chuckled softly, reaching for the bowl again. "I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't," he admitted, his tone gentle and sincere, "but I can assure you, this is safe to consume." To prove it, he scooped a generous spoonful and took a bite himself, letting out an exaggerated hum of satisfaction.

You swallowed hard, the sight and smell tormenting you. Still, you hesitated when he held out another spoonful.

"If you won't eat it," he said with a sigh, "then I'll finish the rest." He raised the spoon toward his own mouth as if to follow through.

Before he could, you opened your mouth quickly, and his grin softened. Gently, he fed you, the warm broth sliding down your throat like liquid gold, soothing and comforting. The flavours were simple, yet after days of deprivation, it felt like the most luxurious meal you'd ever had.

He remained calm, every action slow and deliberate, offering care despite your fear and mistrust. His patience was unsettling, yet... somehow, in that moment, the terrifying man you had known felt like a distant memory.

But the pain in your body lingered. And so did the scars.

Hongjoong felt a warmth he couldn't explain swelling in his chest as you finished the final spoonful, the empty bowl resting between you both like a fragile truce. His eyes softened as he watched you, vulnerable yet still defiant, the faintest remnants of tears glistening on your lashes. He reached forward, hand poised to wipe the corner of your lips, but before he could, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

He blinked, and it was as if a mask fell into place. The softness in his gaze vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding demeanour you knew too well. He set the bowl on the table, the clink of ceramic against wood too loud in the heavy silence. Straightening in his seat, shoulders squared, he uttered a firm, "Come in."

You shrank back into the bed instinctively, your body curling as far from him as your injuries would allow. The door creaked open, and another man stepped inside—his brow raising slightly when he noticed you were awake.

"Hyung," he said, his tone both respectful and urgent, "you're needed at the meeting. To discuss our next steps, now that the..." He hesitated, casting a brief glance your way, as if unsure how much to say in your presence. "The actual spy remains at large."

Hongjoong nodded, the authority in his posture unwavering. "I'll be there. Thank you, Jongho." His voice was clipped, businesslike, a stark contrast to the gentle tone he'd used with you only moments before. "Summon the doctor. Have her checked thoroughly and ensure she's comfortable."

The man named Jongho gave a short nod and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a moment, the Captain remained seated, his back straight, tension radiating from him. Then, as if reminded of your presence, he turned to you once more. His expression softened, just for a second, as he offered the faintest smile—fleeting but genuine. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "No one will hurt you again. I won't let them."

Before you could react, the smile vanished, his face hardening once more as he rose to his feet. Without another glance, he strode to the door and exited, the soft thud of his boots fading into the distance.

You lay there, staring at the closed door, heart racing, mind spinning. The man who had nearly destroyed you had just promised your protection. And despite everything, a single, terrifying thought whispered through your mind:

I believe you.

The room felt unnervingly quiet after his departure, the air still heavy with the remnants of his presence. You stayed frozen for a moment, listening to the silence, your pulse still thundering in your ears. Slowly, cautiously, you shifted beneath the blanket, every movement sending fresh waves of pain rippling through your battered body.

But you endured it, your gaze locked on the bag resting beside you. Trembling fingers reached out, brushing against its fabric, now pristine compared to how you last remembered it—torn, dirtied, ruined. Carefully, you pulled it closer, clutching it to your chest like a lifeline, tears welling up as you stroked the surface. Your fingers traced over the familiar stitches and doodles, remnants of happier times, of days spent working, laughing, living.

Were your loved ones searching for you? How frantic must they be, wondering if you were still alive, hoping, praying for your return? The thought broke something inside you, and you wept silently, the tears streaming down your face as you reached inside the bag.

Piece by piece, your belongings greeted you, neatly arranged—your keychain, your tiny souvenirs, even the little trinkets you'd collected on that ill-fated day. None of them bore the grime and cruelty you had last seen, each one painstakingly cleaned, cared for. Despite yourself, a hollow sob escaped your lips, and you hated how much it affected you.

At the very bottom of the bag, your trembling hand closed around the familiar worn edges of your notebook. You pulled it out, your tears falling freely as you held it close, opening the cover with a sniffle. Flipping through the pages, you found the list you had written, the innocent to-do list that had led you into this nightmare. Your thumb traced the ink of your handwriting—dotted with tiny stars and hearts—and you almost smiled through the pain.

But it wasn't your handwriting on the newest page. You froze, blinking through your tears as you stared at the words, scrawled in a neat, unfamiliar script:

I'm sorry. I will make it right again, I promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, a sob escaping that you couldn't suppress. He had written it. The very man who had branded you, broken you. And yet here, in this quiet, fragile moment, his apology was inked into your most personal possession.

It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

But it was something.

The notebook fell from your hands, landing on your lap as you curled around it, weeping not just from pain, but from the deep, agonising confusion that tangled with it. You didn't know what to feel anymore. Hatred? Grief? Or some terrible, unbidden hope that his words weren't just lies?

As the tears blurred your vision, you whispered brokenly to no one, "Why does it hurt more now?"

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The days stretched into a haze of silence and uncertainty. You hadn't seen him since that moment when he fed you soup and scribbled his apology into your notebook. In his absence, Jongho became a constant presence—a quiet sentinel, always bringing what you needed but never lingering too long. Aside from him, the kind doctor, with her gentle hands and soothing voice, tended to your wounds, her care meticulous and soft. But it was always just Jongho and her. Never the Captain.

At first, you felt like a prisoner, wondering what the end of this strange hospitality would bring. Would they let you go? Was this kindness a façade before some darker fate awaited? But as the days went on, your thoughts turned inward, your hands finding comfort in writing. You filled parchment after parchment with letters—letters to your parents, your best friend, your employer. They were full of reassurances you weren't even sure you believed. I'm alive. I'm safe. I will come back. But the ink soothed you, even if you knew they might never be sent.

Today was no different, except for the soft murmurs between you and the doctor as she changed your dressings. Her hands worked deftly, the cool air brushing against your skin as she peeled away the layers of gauze and replaced them with fresh, clean bandages. You let your mind drift, thinking of the promise he had scrawled in your notebook. He said he'd make it right. But how? Will I get to leave? Will I ever see my old life again? And if I do… will I ever be the same?

The faint creak of the door interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up instinctively, expecting Jongho's usual unhurried entrance. But it wasn't the Anchor.

It was him.

Your breath caught, and you froze, eyes wide as you met the gaze of Kim Hongjoong. He, too, stilled in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps? Regret? His gaze fell to your back, to the horrid brand etched into your skin, and you saw the way he flinched.

He wasn't the only one.

Your body trembled involuntarily, an instinctive recoil from the man who had caused you so much pain. The doctor, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air, glanced up with a warm smile. "Oh, you're here! I'm almost done, just give me a minute."

The gang leader nodded stiffly, but he didn't speak. He quickly averted his gaze, turning away as if the sight of you was unbearable. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it should be.

But not for the same reasons as before.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, clutching the edge of the blanket as the doctor finished her work, her hands light on your skin. She hummed softly, her presence a soothing balm to your raw nerves. But your focus remained on him—on the way his shoulders tensed, on the way he refused to meet your eyes again. When he did chance a glance, he caught your gaze, and you saw it clearly: shame.

His lips parted, but no words came. You wanted to demand answers. Why are you here? What do you want from me? But your voice remained trapped in your throat.

The doctor stood, packing up her supplies with a satisfied smile. "There we are," she said brightly, glancing between the two of you. "I'll leave you to rest now." She nodded respectfully to Hongjoong before quietly excusing herself, leaving you alone with him.

The door clicked shut, and the silence between you thickened. You stared at him, your heart pounding, as he stood there, still and unsure. He finally spoke, his voice low and rough, as if it hurt to say the words.

"I didn't mean to... interrupt." He looked down, hands clenched at his sides. "I only came to see how you were."

You didn't know what to say. Under normal circumstances, perhaps a thank you would have been appropriate—but this wasn't normal, and he didn't deserve that. So you kept quiet, your lips pressed into a thin line, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

He sighed softly, the sound barely audible, before clearing his throat and moving to sit beside you, just as he had that day with the soup. He settled into the chair with a quiet grace, attempting a small, hesitant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze flickered to the books, papers, and pens scattered across the nursing table beside your bed.

"I hope Jongho managed to get you everything you asked for," he said gently, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to startle you. You nodded, but kept your eyes downcast, focused on your wringing hands.

His gaze followed yours, landing on the letters you had written—the stack of parchment covered in your careful handwriting. For a moment, you tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Would he order his men to burn them? Would he scold you for daring to think of leaving, for daring to hope?

But instead, his voice was soft. "Would you like me to deliver them?"

You froze, lifting your head slowly, your wide, disbelieving eyes meeting his earnest gaze. He gestured toward the letters with a slight movement of his hand. "The letters," he clarified. "I could send them for you."

Your disbelief must have shown on your face, the way your brow furrowed and your lips parted slightly in shock. He saw it. He felt it. And it cut deeper than he expected. Of course, you still saw him as a monster. Why wouldn't you? He had given you every reason to believe that. If he wanted to change that, he would need to do more—much more.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, before looking at you again with an expression that was raw and unguarded. "Look," he began, voice heavy with something that felt dangerously close to regret. "You're not trapped here, in case you're wondering. You're free to leave whenever you want."

You blinked, your heart racing at the words. Could you believe him? Could you trust that freedom was within your reach?

"It's just that…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "After everything we—I've done to you, the least I can do is help you heal. To nurse you back to health, to give you what you need. I need to make it right. That's all I want. For you to get better, to return to yourself. And if there's anything you need to make that happen… just say the word."

His voice dropped to an almost pleading tone. "So tell me—do you want those letters delivered? Is that it?"

You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of deception, any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was honesty. Whether or not it was real, you didn't know. But the sincerity in his tone, the earnestness in his eyes—it was undeniable.

And you couldn't lie to yourself. The letters were what you wanted. To set your mind and heart at ease. To reassure your loved ones that you were still alive, still here, even if only barely.

So you nodded.

He exhaled slowly, as if relieved, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a glimmer of something softer in his expression. "Okay," he said simply. "I'll make sure they're delivered."

You struggled, the words stuck in your throat like stubborn stones, not fear this time—but something else. Something unfamiliar and unsettling. You nodded again, the gesture small and hesitant, and to your surprise, he seemed to find it… endearing. His smile softened further, and though you wanted to resent him for it, there was something disarming about the warmth in his expression.

Noticing the way you hesitated, as if wanting to speak but unsure how, he shifted in his chair, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward, careful in his every movement. He stopped just short of your space, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to avoid overwhelming you. His eyes, soft and patient, held yours, and the corners of his lips tugged upward in that same gentle smile—a silent reassurance: I won't hurt you. It's okay.

He seemed aware of how much he was smiling, almost as if surprised by it himself. His eyes glimmered with something that felt out of place in a man like him—genuine kindness. It struck you then, how foreign that smile must have been on his face, as if it had gone unused for too long. You wondered who he had once been, before this life of cruelty hardened him. And you hated that part of you, the part desperate for softness, wanted to know.

"It's alright," he said softly, his voice gentle and warm. "You don't have to be afraid. Just tell me—what do you want?"

The tenderness in his tone felt unreal. This was the same man who had once stood over you, cold and unyielding, ready to snuff out your life. And yet here he was now, speaking to you as if you were fragile, precious even. It was maddening. Confusing. And yet, damn you for being nothing more than a frail human aching for kindness, your guard cracked, just a little.

You didn't know why you asked it, why this question had been sitting in the back of your mind, waiting for its chance to escape. But when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. "Your name."

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, silence stretched between you, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost regretful. And then, in that quiet space, he realised the truth: from the very beginning, through everything he had put you through, he had never once told you his name.

He sat back slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Hongjoong," he said, his voice steady but tender, as if offering you something sacred. "My name is Hongjoong."

Your lips parted, and though you had imagined feeling hatred for this name, it didn't come. Instead, all you felt was the raw ache of everything left unsaid.

"Hongjoong," you repeated, tasting the name on your tongue like a fragile thing, and the way you said it felt like the start of something neither of you could yet name.

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Hongjoong had made it a point to visit you every evening, just before the world outside your room fell silent for the night. At first, you dreaded those moments, unsure of his intentions or what he might say. But as the days turned into weeks, those visits became routine. He would sit beside your bed or across from you at the small table, his demeanour always calm, his tone soft and steady, and slowly, piece by piece, he unravelled the mystery of who he was, what this place meant, and how you had been drawn into their world.

His name, you learned, was more than just a name. He was the leader of this place, a sprawling mansion that served as the heart of a powerful syndicate—a gang, as you quickly realised. The people here, the ones who moved with deadly precision and cold efficiency, were his crew. Not just criminals, but men who had pledged their loyalty to him and each other in the face of a world that sought to destroy them.

You had been caught in the crossfire of a feud between two factions, mistaken for an enemy spy in a moment of chaos. It explained the brutality with which you had been treated, the mistrust that lingered until the truth emerged too late. "You weren't supposed to be hurt," he told you one night, voice thick with regret. "I didn't know who you were. If I had known..." He never finished those sentences, leaving the unsaid to hang in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

And now, the pieces fit. The puzzle you had struggled to solve finally made sense, but with that clarity came an unsettling reality: you were surrounded by criminals. Even if Hongjoong had promised safety, you were in a den of people capable of murder, of violence, of unspeakable acts committed in the name of survival and loyalty. It went against everything you believed in—your sense of morality, the honest life you had led until now.

Yet, despite your fear and discomfort, you knew you had no choice. What had happened could not be undone. The only hope you clung to was for a swift recovery, a chance to leave this world behind and return to the life you had once known.

As your injuries healed, you grew stronger. The sharp, constant pain dulled to a distant ache, and with the doctor's meticulous care, you were soon able to move around. Hongjoong had a proper room prepared for you—one more fitting, spacious, with large windows that let in the light. It was more comfortable than you dared to expect, but you knew better than to interpret it as anything more than a gesture of atonement.

Still, you couldn't deny the strange, unspoken connection that had formed between you and him. You wouldn't call it friendship—you couldn't. He was still the man who had brought you to the brink of death. But there was something. Something fragile, a bond woven through shared guilt and reluctant trust. You found yourself relying on him in ways that shamed you. You hated it, hated how you felt a strange sense of calm when he was near, as if the very person responsible for your suffering was now the anchor keeping you steady.

It was complicated. Confusing. And worst of all, it made you question whether the lines you thought were so clear—between captor and captive, between right and wrong—had begun to blur.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong wrestled with the same confusion—especially about the emotions that had begun to surface lately. He couldn't shake the persistent need to be near you. It gnawed at him like an unrelenting tide, wearing away the walls he had built over the years. He told himself it was duty, responsibility. After all, he was the reason you had nearly lost your life. If he hadn't acted so quickly on false information, none of this would have happened. He reasoned that it was only right to take full responsibility, to ensure your recovery—physically and otherwise.

That logic gave him something to hold on to, but it didn't explain everything. It didn't explain why his eyes instinctively sought you out whenever he walked the halls or the strange calm that washed over him when he saw you safe. It didn't explain the warmth that bloomed in his chest when he heard your voice or glimpsed your rare, hesitant smiles. No, it wasn't just responsibility anymore. It was something deeper, something he wasn't ready to name.

After another gruelling meeting filled with discussions of crisis management and strategies to track down the elusive spy, the Captain's head buzzed with tension. His face remained a mask of cold authority, his steps measured, his shoulders squared. He passed his men without sparing a glance, his thoughts elsewhere. Always on you. The dining hall was empty, your room vacant, and the painting room—where you often sat doodling, lost in thought—was deserted. A strange, unwelcome worry tightened in his chest.

Relief only came when he pushed open the heavy library doors and saw you standing there. You stood in a sunlit aisle, the golden light streaming through the tall windows, bathing you in a soft glow. The light illuminated your features—now mostly healed, the bruises reduced to faint shadows, the cuts mere whispers of what they had been. You were beautiful, he realised, and the realisation ached in a way he hadn't anticipated. He closed the door quietly behind him, the sound muted, careful not to startle you. His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, his heart inexplicably racing.

You were focused on a pressed flower bookmark tucked between the pages of a book, your head tilted slightly as you admired it, your fingers gently brushing the fragile petals. The scene was simple, ordinary. Yet it stirred something in him, an unspoken truth he wasn't ready to confront.

"Marigold," he said softly, his voice low to not disturb the tranquillity. "That's my favourite flower."

You looked up, startled at first, but your expression softened when you saw him. "Really? It's mine too," you replied, your voice steady, though a hint of curiosity lingered in your tone.

A small smile tugged at his lips, softer than usual, though it carried the weight of everything left unsaid. "It is? Then you should keep it," he said, nodding toward the bookmark, surprising even himself with the offer.

"But—" you began, gesturing toward the marked page.

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I never had time to finish the book anyway. Can't even remember what it's about. Just take it. It's yours now."

Anything you want, it's yours.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched, fragile yet profound, like a delicate thread holding more than either of you dared admit. Hongjoong didn't know what this feeling was, only that it was growing. And being near you eased a part of him he hadn't realised was broken.

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The evening air was still, and the faint glow of the lamp in your room cast a soft halo beneath the door, a beacon that drew him to check on you one last time before retiring. He knocked gently, expecting the usual soft response or even a brief acknowledgement, but there was only silence. His brows knitted in concern, and he knocked again, the sound a little firmer this time. Still, no answer.

Then he heard it—a muffled yelp.

Panic surged through him. He couldn't wait. "I'm coming in," he called, his voice urgent but not harsh, and without hesitation, he pushed open the door.

The sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your shirt halfway unbuttoned, exposing your shoulder and part of your back. The fresh bandage you had been attempting to wrap around yourself lay unravelled on the floor, a tangle of gauze mocking your efforts. Your face was flushed with embarrassment, and the moment you realised he was there, you scrambled to pull your shirt back up, your movements frantic and clumsy.

He didn't look away, not out of disrespect, but because he couldn't ignore the mark on your back. That cursed brand. Every time he saw it, it felt like a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of his failure. If he could change one thing in his life, it would be that—undoing the moment that left such a permanent scar on you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, before finally speaking, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Do you need help?"

Your immediate response was a firm shake of your head. "I'm fine," you insisted, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. He could see it all: the mess of your hair, the exhaustion etched into your face, the slight tremor in your hands. You had been at this for a while, stubbornly trying to do it alone, and it was clear that you were anything but fine.

Hongjoong sighed quietly, stepping closer, each movement deliberate and gentle, as if afraid he might scare you away. "You're not," he said softly, without accusation, without pity, only quiet understanding. He knelt in front of you, eyes level with yours, and held out his hand, palm up, an unspoken offer. "Let me help."

You hesitated, biting your lip, your pride warring with the exhaustion. But eventually, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, your eyes downcast. He reached for the discarded bandage on the floor, his movements slow, deliberate, as if trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

Carefully, he unbuttoned your shirt just enough to reveal your shoulder, his fingers never straying more than necessary. The moment felt intimate but not in the way that made you feel vulnerable. It was gentle. Respectful. As he wrapped the bandage around you with practised precision, his hands were steady, careful not to brush against your skin more than needed.

"You don't have to do everything alone," he murmured as he fastened the bandage, his voice like a balm. "I know you're strong, but you can let someone help you."

You didn't respond immediately, the warmth of his words sinking in as you sat in silence. Finally, you whispered, "Thank you."

He gave a faint smile, one you didn't see but could hear in the softness of his voice. "Anytime."

You finally turned to face him, your breath catching when you realised just how close he was. His face, so much softer now than the man who had once been your captor, was mere inches away. As if more modest than you, he quickly moved to help button your shirt, his fingers deft but gentle, avoiding your gaze as if giving you privacy in a moment that was anything but private. Your eyes, however, couldn't stop following the sincerity etched into his expression, hating the way it made your heart race. How could your body betray you like this, reacting to someone who had once been so cruel?

You swallowed hard, trying to banish those thoughts, and lowered your gaze. That's when you noticed his wrist peeking from the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. It was the first time you saw them, the scars that twisted from his elbows to his wrists like angry, jagged reminders. Your brows furrowed, curiosity—and something deeper—propelling you forward. Without thinking, your hand reached out and grasped his as he pulled away, holding it gently.

"H-how'd you get these?" your voice trembled, more from the vulnerability in the air than any fear.

Hongjoong stilled. The small smile on his face faded, replaced by a haunting stillness. He pulled his hands back gently, as if realising for the first time he had no right to be near you, no right to touch you. He placed your hands carefully back in your lap, almost reverently, and turned toward the window, the fading sunlight casting shadows across his face.

A humourless chuckle escaped him, low and bitter, as he glanced at the scars on his arms before shifting his gaze to the darkened horizon. "Let me tell you the story of a boy," he began, his voice void of emotion but heavy with pain, "who had everything taken from him. Not that he had much to begin with—only a mother who loved him more than anything." His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, but you caught it. "Even that wasn't enough for fate."

He didn't look at you, eyes fixed on the darkening sky, as if it held all the answers. "My father was a worthless drunk with a gambling problem. He left us with nothing but debts, and my mother… she worked herself to the bone, trying to keep us afloat. But it was never enough. The loan sharks came one night." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I was too young to understand what they wanted, why they were shouting at her. But I remember… I remember watching them beat her to the ground."

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it cut like a blade. "I watched them strip her, violate her, and when they were done, they slit her throat as if she were nothing." He exhaled shakily, his jaw tightening. "They left me there with her body. Taunted me. If they had known what they created that night… maybe they wouldn't have left me alive."

You sat motionless, your heart aching at the raw truth of his confession. Suddenly, everything made sense—how he had become this way, hardened and cold. You could understand now, even though it hurt to. Perhaps you would have become the same if you had endured such horrors. No one is born evil. We are all blank canvases, shaped by what we experience, by the pain life forces us to endure.

His eyes fell to the scars on his arms, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips. "These," he murmured, flexing his fingers as if feeling the memory burn anew, "are souvenirs from that night." His voice grew colder, distant, as if reliving the moment. "I remember their nails clawing at my arms, desperate to cling to life. But it didn't matter. Those bastards were never going to escape."

Despite the chilling edge in his words, you felt no fear. Instead, you saw the boy hidden beneath the armour, a boy the world had broken too soon. He turned back to you, his eyes no longer cold but filled with a deep, aching regret. "And that's why," he said, voice trembling with emotion, "I wish I could undo what I did to you. I swore I'd never harm the innocent, never become what they were. But I failed." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Nothing I do will ever make this right."

To his surprise, you reached out, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering comfort where he expected none. He turned to you, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall.

"It's okay, Hongjoong," you said softly, your voice unwavering yet gentle. "Everyone makes mistakes."

And then you smiled—a small, genuine smile, brimming with forgiveness. It shattered something within him, but it also healed something far deeper, a part of him he thought was long dead.

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Things had shifted significantly between you since that fateful night when he first bared his soul, revealing the shadows of his dark past. Your understanding unlocked something in him, and in turn, you also began to open up. Little by little, you spoke more, smiled more freely, and allowed yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. Hongjoong, too, had changed. What once were brief visits to check on you became shared meals, quiet conversations, and the gentle ritual of him changing your wound dressings daily. It had become a routine—a comforting rhythm filled with tender moments, lingering touches, deep gazes, and countless almosts.

Almost kisses. Almost confessions. Almost something more.

Just a little longer, he told himself, fighting the constant urge to feel your lips against his. He needed to earn your trust fully before daring to take that step. He knew he didn't deserve you—but the heart wants what it wants.

But of course, just as he allowed himself to believe things were finally settling, reality reminded him otherwise. He should have known better than to think peace could last in his world. You and he had grown closer, but the life he led was never one to offer tranquillity for long. Conflict loomed on the horizon. An important meeting was fast approaching—a meeting arranged long before you had entered his life.

The Black Pirates, an organisation that had always operated with an exclusively male force, had struck a delicate negotiation with the Red Room, a renowned spy training facility specialised in producing elite female operatives. Though both syndicates had thrived independently, they saw mutual benefit in an alliance, especially as the shadowy threat of the White Serpents continued to grow. A treaty was in the works and was supposed to be one of Hongjoong's top priorities.

Yet, things had changed. You were here now, and part of him refused to leave you. The thought of being away, of leaving you vulnerable even for a moment, gnawed at him. So he made a decision: Seonghwa would attend the meeting in his place. The eldest, the Gentleman, was their best negotiator, and if anyone could secure a favourable outcome, it was him.

"It's set then," he said, his tone final. "Seonghwa will represent me for this." He leaned back slightly, eager to conclude the meeting and return to you.

But he should have known better than to expect it would be accepted without protest.

The moment the words left his mouth, Mingi's hand slammed onto the table, the force reverberating through the room. "Really, hyung?" he spat, his voice heavy with frustration. "You're going to send someone else on your behalf for something this important? I was already fed up with this nonsense, but enough is enough!"

The screech of the temperamental member's chair echoed as he shoved it back, rising to his feet, the fire in his eyes blazing. Yunho reached out, gripping his arm in warning, but Mingi shook him off, his glare fixed on their leader.

"No!" he growled, his voice rising. "When will this madness stop?! I'm sick and tired of you being distracted by her. At first, I understood—you felt guilty, like you owed her something. But now? You're letting it go too far! You've been wasting precious time hovering around her, growing soft! And now you're putting our work at risk. When does it end, huh?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with the weight of Mingi's accusation. Hongjoong remained seated, his fingers interlocked on the table. He met the taller man's gaze with a cold, unwavering stare.

"Sit down, Mingi," he said quietly, his voice calm, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

Mingi didn't move, his jaw tight, defiance radiating from him. "Answer me," he demanded. "When does it end?"

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"You think I'm neglecting my responsibility," Hongjoong said, his voice low, even, and far colder than before. He rose slowly, pushing his chair back with a deliberate grace. "You think I'm growing soft. Maybe you're right." His eyes, sharp and cutting, bore into Mingi's. "But everything I do is for this gang's survival. Including ensuring her safety."

Mingi scoffed, disbelief written across his face. "Her? She's not one of us. She's a—"

"Enough," Hongjoong snapped, the steel in his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He stepped closer, towering over Mingi now. "You question my judgement again, and it won't be this quiet." His voice softened, but the danger in it was palpable. "I trust Seonghwa to handle this. And I trust you to remember your place."

For a moment, it seemed as if Mingi might push further, but his best friend, the Enforcer's hand tightened on his arm, a silent plea. He growled in frustration and, after a tense beat, finally sat down, seething but silent.

Seonghwa's calm voice broke the heavy quiet. "I'll handle it, Cap. You've made the right call." He shot a glance at Mingi. "We all want the same thing: to be stronger, united. Let's not lose sight of that."

Hongjoong's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his eyes never left Mingi. "Good," he said, his tone final. "Then it's settled."

As the others filed out, Mingi lingered near the door, shooting one last glare at his leader before leaving without another word. The Captain remained behind, letting out a long breath, the weight of the confrontation pressing on him.

He should have known peace wouldn't last. But as his thoughts turned to you, one question echoed in his mind.

How much more would he have to sacrifice to protect you before it all fell apart?

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you had already found the answer to his unspoken question.

"Hongjoong," you whispered, your voice trembling as it cut through the stillness of the dimly lit library.

The soft glow of the lamps cast gentle shadows over the shelves, wrapping the room in an intimate quiet. Across from you, he sat, his eyes warm and attentive, watching you with that familiar, close-lipped smile—the one that always made your heart stutter. His expression was gentle, full of a quiet tenderness that you both craved and feared.

But tonight, that smile felt like a dagger. It broke something inside you, making what you were about to say hurt even more.

"Yes?" he responded just as softly, his voice a soothing balm you didn't deserve. He leaned forward slightly, the care in his gaze evident, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as they clutched the delicate bookmark he had given you, your lifeline in this moment of unbearable heaviness. "I'm… I'm all better now," you began, the words sticking in your throat. "I wish to leave. I want to go home."

The change in him was immediate. His smile vanished, and his hand shot across the table, grasping yours before you could pull away. His touch was warm but trembling, desperate. "Wha—where is this coming from?" His voice cracked, panic threading through every word. He hadn't known how long he'd have you by his side, but he never imagined losing you this soon. He wasn't ready. "Was it Mingi? Did he say something to you? I swear to god, if he—"

"No," you interrupted, shaking your head firmly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "He didn't do anything." You squeezed his hand, trying to draw strength from the contact. "I just… I think it's time. Time for both of us to return to our own lives."

His grip tightened, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No," he whispered, shaking his head as if refusing to believe your words could make them untrue. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to leave yet. The doctor—I'm having her work on something for the mark. You're not healed, not really."

You bit your lip, his raw emotion tearing through your resolve. You wanted to stay—God, how you wanted to stay—but the memory of that argument was too fresh. You had stood outside the meeting room earlier, waiting for him to finish, only to hear Mingi's voice raised in anger, accusing him of neglect, of weakness. And you had heard Hongjoong's silence—heavy, burdened. You couldn't be the reason for his pain. You couldn't be the weakness he couldn't afford.

"I heard it all," you confessed, voice trembling. "The argument. I know how much I'm complicating things for you." Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away. "It's not fair—to you, to them. We're from different worlds, Hongjoong. You and I… we were never going to work." Your voice softened as you finally named what had been unspoken: the feelings between you both.

His face crumpled, the pain etched into every line devastating to witness. "Don't do this," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please… don't."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "This is how we make things right," you whispered. "You wanted to fix what you did, to give me a chance at freedom. This is it."

Silence engulfed the room, thick and suffocating. Slowly, he let go of your hand, as if releasing it would break him entirely. His head bowed, shoulders slumping under the weight of your decision.

"Oh…" It was all he could manage, and the raw pain in that single word nearly undid you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The quiet of the library, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating. You had made your choice, and you believed it was the right one.

So why did it hurt so much?

"I'm sorry," you whispered, standing from your chair. You hesitated, wanting to offer some kind of solace, but knowing it would only prolong the pain. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

With every step you took toward the door, it felt as though pieces of your heart were left behind. And when you reached the threshold, you heard it—his broken, whispered plea.

"Don't go."

But you didn't stop. You couldn't. Because sometimes, love wasn't enough.

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As if running from you could change the inevitable, Hongjoong buried himself in work, pouring over plans and strategies like a man determined to forget. Meetings stretched longer, tasks multiplied, and he worked late into the night, ignoring the hollow ache growing in his chest. But no amount of work could silence the truth—or erase the memory of your soft, breaking voice.

He could only run for so long.

One day, the quiet was broken by Jongho's hesitant knock on his office door. The youngest cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under the Captain's tired gaze. "What is it?" he sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to mask the weariness in his voice.

Jongho straightened, his eyes darting to the barely open door behind him. Hongjoong followed his gaze and froze. There, framed by the narrow gap, was the unmistakable outline of your back.

"It's her, hyung," Jongho said softly, his tone more hesitant than usual. "She... she asked the doctor to give her one final check. To make sure she's fully healed." He paused, as if reluctant to continue. "She expressed her desire to leave."

The words struck like a blade, sharp and final. For a long moment, Hongjoong said nothing, his eyes locked on the empty doorway as if he could will you to return. But deep down, he knew there was nowhere left to run.

He had been a fool to believe that anything could make you stay. He put himself in your shoes for a fleeting moment, imagining what it must be like. You had a life beyond these walls—a life waiting for you to return. And even if you chose to stay, how long could he truly keep you safe in his dangerous world? How long before the life he led consumed you, too?

And even if, by some miracle, you stayed—would your loved ones ever accept him? A gang leader with blood on his hands and sins too deep to cleanse?

No. The answer was clear.

As much as it tore him apart, he knew this was the mercy you deserved. He couldn't chain you to his darkness, couldn't selfishly hold on when letting go was the only way to truly love you.

"You're right," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "You have a life of your own. I can't ask you to stay."

The Anchor remained silent, watching his leader with a rare softness in his eyes.

Men like him were never meant to love. Not after all the sins he had committed, all the lives he had taken, all the wrongs he could never make right. He didn't deserve you—not your kindness, your laughter, or the warmth you so effortlessly gave.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the door, his voice steady but hollow. "Thank you, Jongho. I trust you to make the proper arrangements for her departure."

The youngest hesitated for a moment, but when he met the finality in Hongjoong's eyes, he nodded and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence settled over the room again, heavy and oppressive—until the door creaked open once more. The gang leader's head snapped up, irritation flashing in his eyes, but it melted away the instant he saw who it was.

You stood hesitantly in the doorway, peeking in like you weren't sure you belonged there anymore.

He shot up from his seat, his movements hurried. "O-oh, it's you. Come in..." His voice softened, and you offered a small, tentative smile as you stepped inside. He gestured toward the worn leather couch. "Please, have a seat."

But you shook your head. "No, I shouldn't stay long. I just… came to thank you for respecting my decision."

He exhaled, a bitter sound escaping his lips. "Don't thank me for that." His voice was low, laced with frustration, though not at you. "It shouldn't have taken me this long to agree. You were right." His lips curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. The pain there was unmistakable, and it clenched your heart painfully. "This… it has to end eventually. After all, I'm the one who did this to you. I can't possibly expect you to return my feelings—"

"Stop," you whispered, closing your eyes, shaking your head as if to ward off the self-loathing in his voice. Too late. You already had returned those feelings, and hearing him like this shattered you. "No, Hongjoong, don't say that. I just..."

He stilled, his gaze searching yours as you opened your eyes and met him, resisting the desperate urge to reach out and cup his face, to pull him into the comfort you knew he craved. But you couldn't. So instead, you smiled, soft but trembling, and extended a hand toward him.

"I'm feeling a little hungry," you said gently, your voice trembling just enough to betray your emotions. "Want to have dinner together?"

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if unsure if he had heard correctly. But how could he possibly say no? Besides, this could very well be your last meal together. Everything else could wait—damn it all.

Until the moment you were safely returned home, you were all that mattered to him.

Just until tomorrow.

Jongho had arranged your ride back tomorrow.

Hongjoong couldn't pretend anymore. He knew this would likely be the last time he'd have you like this, in this fragile peace. So, tonight, he let the walls fall. He no longer resisted the urges that had haunted him for weeks. When he reached out to feed you, gently wiping a stray bit of food from the corner of your lips, you didn't flinch. When he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your skin with a tenderness that made his chest ache, you didn't pull away.

And you didn't say a word. You just let him.

By the end of the meal, when he saw the glimmer of hesitation in your eyes—knowing you were preparing to retreat to your room—he acted quickly, grasping your hand before you could leave. His touch was firm but not forceful, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost pleading.

"Would you like to… walk with me?"

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes searching his as if trying to memorise everything about this moment. Then, wordlessly, you nodded. He led you through the grand halls of the mansion, out to the sprawling, maze-like garden, where the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the paths.

Your hands remained entwined the entire time.

The garden was silent except for the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He guided you to the centre, where a marble fountain stood, the gentle sound of water trickling into the basin adding to the quiet serenity. Clearing a spot on the cold concrete, he shrugged off his blazer, laying it down carefully before gesturing for you to sit. You did, settling beside him as the horizon stretched before you, bathed in soft, silver moonlight.

"This is nice," you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice almost lost in the cool night air.

He smiled, his gaze softening. "It is, isn't it?"

For a while, neither of you spoke. The dim lanterns cast a golden glow, wrapping you both in a warmth that felt almost unreal. Slowly, as if afraid you might slip away, he placed his hand over yours once again. This time, your fingers intertwined naturally, effortlessly, as though they had always belonged that way.

No words were necessary. Every touch, every glance, spoke of everything you felt but couldn't say.

Your heart raced as you turned toward him, only to find he was already watching you. His eyes were dark, filled with emotions you didn't dare name. He leaned in, bit by bit, closing the space between you. Your breath hitched, trembling, but you didn't move away.

"Just for tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and raw. "Can we be together? Just for tonight."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your heart aching with the weight of the unspoken goodbye. You nodded, your voice barely above a breath.

"Please."

And then, there was no more distance between you.

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The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Hongjoong stirred awake, the weight of sleep heavier than usual, but a comforting warmth grounded him. Instinctively, he snuggled closer, burying his face into the inviting scent that had become his solace.

It took only a moment for the realisation to hit him. The feminine scent, delicate and intoxicating, filled his senses. His heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes to find you still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, your breathing soft and even.

For a long moment, he stayed still, simply taking you in—the way your hair spilt over the pillow, the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the warmth that radiated from you. Leaning closer, he pressed a tender kiss to your bare shoulder, the memory of last night rushing back like a tidal wave.

Kisses. Endless, intoxicating kisses, your lips against his as if you were trying to fill every unspoken word between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, your hands gripping his shirt, neither of you willing to let go. The clumsy, desperate stumbling through those kisses until you landed on the expanse of his king-sized bed—so often feeling too big, too empty for just one.

Articles of clothing had been shed piece by piece, carelessly scattered across the floor. And then… pure, unrestrained bliss. The feel of your skin against his, the soft sighs and whispered names, the way your bodies moved together like they were meant to fit. It was a night he would never forget, and one he knew he could never have again.

He swallowed hard as reality settled in. It was bittersweet, finally knowing what it was like to have you this close, only to face the cruel truth that he would have to let it all go soon. His gaze fell on the mark on your soft skin, the one that started it all, and he sighed deeply.

It was the right thing to do.

He repeated the mantra in his head, clinging to it like a lifeline. You deserved more—someone who could give you the kind of life you were meant to have, one without fear, without shadows. Someone who wasn't him.

But for now, just for this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to be selfish. He tightened his hold on you, his arm curling around your waist as if he could stop time by keeping you close. He etched every detail into his mind: the way your warmth seeped into him, the way your presence calmed his restless heart, the way this morning felt like a fragile dream he never wanted to wake from.

Because soon, it would all be over.

And he would have nothing left but these memories.

His temporary haven shattered with a jarring intrusion. The door to his bedroom flew open, and Jongho rushed in, his expression a mix of concern and urgency. "Hyung, she's not in her room—"

The Anchor's voice faltered mid-sentence as his eyes landed on you, curled up in his leader's embrace. The man sat up quickly, pulling the blanket to cover you to your neck, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. Jongho froze like a deer caught in headlights, his usual composure obliterated by the scene before him.

You stirred at the commotion, blinking yourself awake. It didn't take long to realise what had happened. Your cheeks flushed a deep red as you scrambled to free yourself from the blanket and darted off to the attached bathroom. "Excuse me," you mumbled hastily, your voice barely above a whisper, before closing the door behind you.

Jongho stood awkwardly, visibly cringing under Hongjoong's icy glare. "I didn't mean to—"

"Out," the Captain growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The youngest didn't need to be told twice. With a quick bow, he fled the room, muttering apologies under his breath.

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as the weight of the morning settled on his shoulders. Deciding to give you the privacy you needed, he rose from the bed, grabbed his robe, and slipped it on before leaving the room.

As he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by none other than the Firestarter, leaning casually against the wall with a smirk plastered across his face.

"Had fun, Cap?" Mingi drawled, his voice laced with mockery. "Hope that pussy was worth everything."

Hongjoong's expression darkened instantly, his eyes narrowing into a glare that could rival a storm. "Speak for yourself, Song," he shot back, his voice steady but laced with venom. "Come mock me when you don't need an exiled noblewoman to save your ass time and time again."

Mingi's smirk faltered as Hongjoong took a step closer, his words cutting like daggers. "Don't think I haven't heard about your multiple near-failures. At least I haven't fucked up anything critical. Also," he added, his tone dropping into something bitter and final, "she's leaving today. I hope you're happy."

The weight of Hongjoong's words left Mingi speechless, his cool façade crumbling. His jaw tightened as he struggled to muster a response, but nothing coherent came to mind.

Clearing his throat, he straightened and forced a shrug, attempting to reclaim his composure. "About damn time. Good riddance," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge. Without another word, he turned and stalked off, leaving the gang leader standing there, his chest tight and his mind racing.

As much as he loathed the confrontation, he couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of satisfaction. At least now, Mingi might think twice before throwing careless words around. But the victory was hollow, his thoughts quickly returning to you.

With a deep sigh, he leaned against the wall, his fingers tracing the edge of his robe. The hours ahead loomed like a storm on the horizon, and he knew they would be some of the hardest he'd ever faced.

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The air was thick with the weight of unspoken emotions as the black car idled behind you, its engine a soft hum against the gloomy backdrop. The overcast sky seemed to mirror the heaviness in both your hearts, the grey clouds threatening rain at any moment. You stood before Hongjoong, your trusty tote bag slung over your shoulder, dressed simply but beautifully, your hair pulled into a messy yet endearing style. You tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges, betraying the storm within.

Neither of you spoke right away, the silence filled with everything you wanted to say but couldn't. Instead, you reached into your bag, pulling out the glass flower charm—the delicate token you had cherished for so long.

"Give me your hand," you murmured softly.

He stepped closer without hesitation, his hand extended between you. The roughness of his palm contrasted sharply with the fragility of the charm as you placed it gently into his hand. His fingers curled around it instinctively, the same hand that once had only known destruction now cradling something so delicate with utmost care.

"For you," you said, your voice steady but laden with emotion. "It's no marigold, but—"

He cut you off with a bittersweet smile, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. "I'll cherish it," he promised, his voice quiet but resolute, as though the words themselves were a vow.

He didn't let go of your hand, his grip warm and steady. You nodded, returning his smile. "Good. Treat it with care," you said, stepping closer, your proximity making his breath hitch.

The scent of his familiar cologne wrapped around you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed against his skin as you whispered, "You did it, Joong. You made it all right."

His eyes fluttered closed, savouring the moment, the warmth of your presence etching itself into his memory. But then, as much as he wanted to keep you there, you pulled away gently, slipping out of his grasp.

Your backward steps toward the waiting car felt like a slow unravelling, each step tugging at the threads of his heart. He fought every instinct to run to you, to pull you back into his arms and beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't.

As you slid into the car and shut the door, he stood rooted to the spot, his chest tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He watched helplessly as the car began to roll forward, taking you further and further from him until you were nothing but a distant blur.

"It's for the best," he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. "You did the right thing."

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through his haze of sorrow. Turning, he found one of his men standing hesitantly nearby. "Boss," the man said carefully, "we received an update from Seonghwa. His visit to the Red Room is going to be extended due to... undisclosed circumstances."

And just like that, Hongjoong was thrust back into the chaos of his world. He nodded, his voice cold and detached. "Got it. I'll speak with the others."

He turned and strode back toward the mansion, his steps purposeful despite the turmoil inside him. His men watched him carefully, unsure if the heartbreak would erupt into anger, but he remained composed, his demeanour unreadable.

Once inside, he glanced down at the delicate charm still resting in his palm. It caught the dim light of the hall, glinting faintly like the remnants of a dream. His grip tightened around it, not enough to damage it, but enough to ground himself.

It hurt—god, it hurt—but he found solace in the fact that he had been able to love again, even if only briefly. He didn't know how long it would take for the ache to fade, perhaps it never would, but one thing was certain: he would never forget you.

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The dim light of the room cast long shadows across the walls, the flickering of a single desk lamp providing the only illumination. The figure leaned back in his chair, his gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood of the table. Before him lay a folder, its contents an intricate web of intel painstakingly gathered. At the very top, clipped securely, was a photograph of the Black Pirates.

The leader's face was circled in white ink—a mark of vulnerability disguised as power.

"Seems we've secured the Captain's weakness right from the start," the figure murmured, a sinister grin spreading across his face. His tone carried a disturbing mixture of amusement and certainty as he flipped the folder shut, the sound of paper against paper breaking the tense silence.

A subordinate stood nearby, his posture stiff, his eyes darting to the file with barely concealed curiosity. "Should we proceed then, sir?" he asked, his voice low but eager.

The figure chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth, and shook his head. "There's no hurry," he replied, his gloved hand resting atop the closed file like a predator savouring its next move. "Time is what we've got. Let them believe they've found their footing. Let them think they're safe."

He pushed the file to the side, leaning forward, his grin widening as his eyes gleamed with cruel intent. "We'll gather them all, one by one. No need to rush—it's always better when the prey doesn't see the trap until it's too late."

The subordinate nodded, though a hint of unease flickered across his features. "Understood, sir."

The figure reached for a glass of whiskey sitting untouched on the desk, swirling the amber liquid as if it contained the answers to every question. "Patience," he said, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. "Patience wins wars. Let's see how far the mighty gang can go when their carefully constructed world begins to crumble."

He raised the glass in a mock toast, the light catching the golden liquid. "To the Black Pirates. And to the beginning of their end."

The room fell silent again, the only sound the faint creak of the leather chair as the figure leaned back, eyes fixed on the file. Somewhere, far from the machinations of this dark plot, Hongjoong might have felt a shiver down his spine. But for now, he was blissfully unaware, the weight of his loss still fresh, the memory of your departure his only torment.

And so, the game began.

Would you believe it? About 90% of this was drafted in a sleep-deprived state HAHA the first thing I do as soon as I get home from work is write this, so I genuinely hope this met expectations!

Are you or are you not surprised by the lack of a happy ending? If you know me well (especially readers who have been here since TWTHH), you probably saw this coming🤠

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @quailbagutte @astudyoftimeywimeystuff

By Order of the Black Pirates Tag list:

@bethelighthalazia @tsunchani @starboyyoongi @soulphoenix1618 @dimeb29

@naps-over-degree @uniq-tastic @baeksofty @hanoishere @star-my

@skteezcursed @soocore @mountiiny @londonbridges01 @lemon-sage17

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#edenesth #by order of the black pirates #the captain #ice on my teeth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #gang au #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #ateez fic

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wttcsms · 4 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ you know i'll take you there

ᝰ.ᐟ shinsuke isn't too happy after your little escape attempt, and he makes it known. (fem!reader)

word count 2.5k content contains mating press, creampie, yakuza au, yandere themes, dubcon, praise kink, pet names (good girl), depictions of violence (not towards reader) author's notes sorry for lack of context; this is meant to take place after this fic concept

Shinsuke Kita doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger on a gun.

The recoil doesn’t even register for him; when you do something for so long, eventually, it just becomes second nature. Like the mechanical movements you do when you brush your teeth, or the way you can tie your sneakers without having to actually look at the laces — shooting someone in the head is a mundane thing for Kita, for his line of work. He does it so often, has practiced it ever since he was a young boy, that what he does after is muscle memory. He removes the handkerchief from his suit and wipes the tiny splatter of blood that ended up getting on his cheek. He folds the sullied handkerchief neatly, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his suit. He makes sure the safety on his gun is in place, and he nods for Aran to drag the dead body away.

When Aran takes his leave, the still-warm corpse in tow, the only people left in the room are Kita and a very scared young man.

One of these men will be leaving this room, and the other will be hoping for a death as swift and merciful as the flawless execution Kita just delivered.

“I told you there would be consequences,” Kita doesn’t taunt his victims. He’s not the type to do so. Cold and calculated — his own gang considers him to be a robot, and for the longest time, Kita agreed with them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Kita has a reason to drag out his torture. Now, Kita understands what it’s like to find his very reason for existing. His purpose isn’t to lead one of the biggest yakuza families in the underground criminal world of Japan. His purpose is to devote his very being to you, and vice versa.

So imagine how heartbroken he felt when he caught you trying to escape from the farmhouse he built for the two of you. And this man, a low-level runt in his group, had been foolish enough to give in and help you.

“Please, sir, I wanted no part in the escape! She begged me, she—”

“She’ll receive her own punishment. I value fairness, after all.” Kita interrupts him, sounding as cold as the blood running through the young man’s veins. He’s frozen in fear as he tries to stammer out more excuses, more explanations, more promises to do better in the future but—

—there really isn’t much of a future for him. Not one that he’ll be happy to live in, at least. Kita is fair; having you slip away would have killed him internally. So now, Kita has to kill this man internally. Crush his spirit. Make him dream of death, dangle death in front of his face like a treat to a dog, but never, ever allow him such a kindness.

(Kita is a fair leader, but very rarely is he kind.

Kindness will get you killed.

The boy dumb enough to help you — he’s kind.)

Kita retrieves a knife from one of the inconspicuous cabinets in this room. The fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling casts a warm glow over the both of them, but the blade of the knife reflects back the light, makes it shine in the poor boy’s face. He flinches.

“Do you remember?” Kita asks him, turning the knife as if to inspect it from every angle.

“Wh-what?” He stutters out, sounding breathless. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. That’ll make things messier than they need to be.

“Do you remember what hand you used when you held hers?” Kita clarifies. He sounds calm, but the sight of another man holding your hand had him seething. Even now, it takes everything in him to not plunge the knife right into this young man’s heart, to twist the blade ‘round his insides, make him hurt like how Kita hurt when he witnessed it.

“It was your left hand.” Kita answers for him. “Fortunately, you’re right-handed. Surely it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you after I’m done sawing it off.”

Kita’s chopped off a few fingers and one hand before, but never has he attempted to do it with a medium sized knife. A knife with a purposely dull blade.

He smiles faintly. Sometimes, it can be fun to break routine and try new things.

You’re in bed by the time Kita returns home. He’s back later than he expects; it turns out, his little experiment with the dull blade is very, very messy. Maybe with practice, he’ll perfect that, too. That boy still has another hand to spare, after all.

Feeling satisfied with himself, Kita starts humming gently as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Before you, Kita never bothered making unnecessary noise. He rarely listened to music, but now—

The sting of your betrayal has lessened considerably. Kita isn’t even upset with you anymore. It’s normal for couples to fight and want to storm out on each other, but what matters most is that at the end of the day, he’s coming home to find you warming his bed.

In his line of work, simple pleasures aren’t usually so sweet.

You don’t stir when he joins you in bed, the mattress dipping just the slightest bit due to the sudden shift in weight, but he makes his presence hard to ignore, even in your slumber, when he presses his chest against your back, his lips nipping gently on the soft skin of your ears.

You whine, your eyesight blurry as your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. You’re instantly aware of Kita’s body covering your own, and when he feels the subtle shivers of your body, the both of you know it’s not because of the chill of the air conditioner.

He makes a tiny grunt of disapproval. Even after all this time, you’re scared of him? Silly girl — he’d never do anything to hurt you.

Well, nothing that would hurt you too badly.

“Did ya have a good dream?” He asks you, breath warm against your ear.

You swallow hard, not brave enough to shift your body. Ever since the truth came out, the fact that sweet Shinsuke is more than just an average overworked businessman but is a yakuza crime boss, things have never been the same between you two. Kita is nothing if not persistent, though. He still cuddles up against you, he still whispers sweet nothings in your ear, he’s still affectionate and downright loving in every action he does towards you.

He knows not to expect an answer from you, especially when he plays with the bottom hem of your silk nightgown. “Wish ya would tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You can picture him frowning; as perceptive as he is, you know that he prefers hearing your thoughts directly from you.

“What happened to Goto?” You dare to ask, and the air seems to shift in your bedroom.

Kita is gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his hand large and imposing, rough with calluses and forever red with blood. You never really learn, you suppose, about how there’s a time and place for such questions.

“Goto received his punishment.” Kita answers calmly, voice steady but cold. “And I nearly forgot about yours.”

Liar. You want to call him out, but you at least have enough self-preservation to bite your tongue. As if Kita would ever forget. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since your little escape attempt.

Kita adores you, loves you, because in a world of greedy, nasty, spiteful little creatures, you are kind and caring and full of the sugary sweet goodness he’s always going to have a taste for. It’s why he’s not surprised when you ask him,

“Is he… alive?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that what you’re really worried about? Goto, over the broken heart of your husband?”

When you don’t answer, Kita tightens his grip on your thigh, contemplating his next move, before he lets his hand travel to the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing against your bare cunt. He’s pleased to find out that you’re still his obedient, sweet girl, following his direct order of going to bed without a bra or panties. Some nights, he’s so tired, any excess fabric is a hindrance.

“If you have a heart, you’ll tell me what happened to him.” You mumble, trying to ignore the way your body craves for Kita’s touch. Before the truth of his second life came out, you were an addict for him. No one has ever touched him the way he’s touched you, and even now, when you want to ignore him and try to remind yourself of what an awful person he truly is, you can’t.

There’s a traitorous part of your heart and soul that still longs for Kita, no matter the truth.

“It’s because I have a heart that I didn’t kill him.” Kita isn’t lying. The torture was for his pleasure, sure, but he knows how upset and inconsolable you would be if you felt like you were responsible for Goto’s death. The register of his voice lowers as he speaks again, though. His warning leaves you frozen in fear.

“If his filthy hands ever touch you again, I’ll kill him.”

There are a litany of reasons why you find yourself in the position you’re currently in: wanting, waiting, whining for Kita. Fear, for one thing. You feel compelled to do whatever he wants, considering the sheer difference in strength and power between the two of you. But try as you might, it’s hard to ignore the tiny, nagging voice in your head that lulls you into a state of docile desire. Kita’s always taken care of you, right? You were in love with him, for fuck’s sake. And as you ride his fingers, content to wrap your warm, wet heat around three of his digits as he chuckles at your wanton display, that nagging voice reminds you that you still do — love him, that is.

Three fingers buried deeply in the warmth of your cunt is enough to make you forget about the events leading up to tonight. He withdraws his fingers, much to your displeasure, and you whine out for him to continue with his ministrations before he shuts you up by forcing you to suck his thumb. You can feel the rough skin of his finger on your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, treating this situation as if you were about to suck his cock, and your tongue laps at the pad of his thumb before he removes it from your mouth.

Without any preamble, he’s back to burying his fingers into your pussy, his thumb — wet with your saliva — pressed firmly against your clit.

“Do you wish it was my cock filin’ you up?” He grunts out, rubbing mercilessly against your clit as you continue to writhe against the bedsheets. Your cheeks feel warm, blood rushing up to your chest and face, and you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing your answer. A shameless, pitiful yes.

“You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so kind.” In his world, kindness gets you killed. Kita’s no different from any other man in his line of work, and it’s why he’s ravaging you right now. Pumping his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making a mess of his fingers, of your pussy, of the bedsheets, of you. It’s why every time he brings you to your climax, you cum violently. You’re letting out a string of stuttered, fractured fucks mixed in with sharp intakes of breath and Shinsuke’s, and you buck your hips wildly against his fingers, pushing his digits even further in as you cum.

With your mind hazy from pleasure, your brain scrambled from sleepiness and an intense orgasm, Kita wastes no time pouncing on you. There’s no chance for you to beg for him to wait, and you register that this must be your punishment.

Shinsuke is going to fuck you without any of his normal restraint.

He slides in your sopping wet cunt in one sharp thrust, burying his thick cock deep into your warm, snug hole. He likes having a routine, he likes having set boundaries and rules, he likes being a man of practicality. But right now, he’s fucking you like a wild beast. All you can do is just take it; take his relentless thrusts, his anger, his need to dominate you, to remind you who you belong to.

“Open up.” He demands, his voice rough and thick with desire. You comply; it’s so easy, considering that you haven’t been able to hold back a single moan as he has his way with you. He spits directly into your mouth, watching the way his saliva sits on the surface of your pink tongue. He doesn’t need to command you to swallow, because you do, savoring the taste of him.

He makes you look him in the eyes as he fucks into you relentlessly. One hand is gripping your hip, practically crushing you as he pounds into your pussy. You’re so fucking wet that the sounds of him moving in and out of your cunt are so lewd, so loud. The inescapable burn of pain and pleasure, the sensitivity of your cunt having to endure his insatiable lust, has you moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Shin— Shinsuke! G-gonna cum!” You squeak out, and it only motivates Kita to double down. He holds up your legs, your limbs burning from the stretch as he continues to get rougher with his movements. You’re looking at him with a dazed, fucked out expression, and he has the audacity to let out a chuckle.

“There’s my good girl.” He praises you, spitting into your open mouth once more.

With your legs trembling and the foggy haze of pleasure clouding your head, you greedily, happily accept his praise. Your legs press tightly against his sides, and with his spit in your mouth and his cock drilling into you with even sharper movements than before, you cum.

Kita lets out a grunt of approval as he finishes inside of you, a load of hot seed pouring deep inside of you as he keeps your legs folded, his hips pressed against yours, as if he wants to plug you up with his cum. He kisses your forehead that’s glistening with sweat from the heat of his body colliding with yours; it seems the two orgasms he wrung out of you have taken its toll on your body. You’re a pliant, fucked out little mess — his pliant, fucked out little mess.

“Good girl.” He murmurs sweetly. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say it back. He just pulls out his cock a bit before thrusting back into you. This action causes you to let out another long, drawn out moan. He’s absolutely relentless, and as tired as you are, you realize that you don’t want him to stop.

(Pity that you’re not capable of speech at the moment.

Because you would have told him that you love him, too.)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #shinsuke kita x reader #kita x reader #hq smut #kita smut #hq x reader #one shot #drabble #yakuza au #yandere haikyuu #ahhh the first drabble since my lil event LOL #sorry for the wait i just haven't been writing and wow #im so out of it

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Hello!

I have a request idea

Fem Yuu who is a princess- Crown Princess, in fact, of an empire far away across the sea that hasn't made contact with Twisted Wonderland's mainland for the past 200 years- and the reason the Dark Mirror pulled Princess!Yuu to NRC was to reconnect the lost magic from the Empire to the mainland because they very much need this magic to restore order to the world

Can this be with the Overblot Gang (including Malleus) + Ruggie, romantic hcs about the boys finding out Yuu's a princess after they start dating, and include the boys and Yuu finding out her mission of reuniting TW's magic with the Empire magic from the Dark Mirror? Thanks!

Overblot Gang + Ruggie x Princess! Reader

hi, i love the intricacies in your request! i made them mini fics instead of hcs. i hope that's alright! if this not what you wanted then just let me know <3

Riddle Rosehearts

The crisp autumn air wafts through the window of Heartslabyul’s dorm, and you watch Riddle pacing by the window. His usual composed demeanor is fraying at the edges, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. The letter, the one with the broken seal, sits accusingly on the desk, a constant reminder of the secret you’ve kept for far too long.

A Crown Princess. That’s who you are. Or rather, that’s who you’ve always been, but here, in Twisted Wonderland, you’d managed to push it aside. Until now.

Riddle has always prided himself on knowing everything about the people around him. Rules and order are his guiding principles, but you’ve been an exception to that. You know this must be eating him alive—how could I have missed something so important?

You take a breath, steadying yourself. You’ve faced worse than this—court intrigue, magical politics, centuries-old prophecies—but this feels heavier because it’s him. And he’s looking at you, brow furrowed, his usual clear-cut logic fraying under the weight of the revelation.

“I received a letter,” Riddle finally says, breaking the silence. His voice is sharp, but it wavers at the edges, betraying his frustration. He gestures to the letter, the Dark Mirror’s seal still visible under the broken wax. “From the Dark Mirror. It… told me everything.”

Your stomach churns, but you’ve prepared yourself for this moment. You knew you couldn’t hide your identity forever. “So, you know,” you say softly, stepping toward him.

“I do.” His words are clipped, tension taut in every syllable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You move closer, offering a tentative smile. “It wasn’t about hiding anything, Riddle. I just… wanted to keep things simple between us. I didn’t want you to treat me differently because of my title.”

“You’re a Crown Princess,” he repeats, disbelief laced through his words. “Of an empire that hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years. And your magic—” His voice catches, and you see his expression darken as he recalls the moment of his overblot. “The magic you used to save me… that was your empire’s magic, wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip as memories flood back. The moment you had stepped in, wielding the ancient, pure magic of your kingdom to pull him back from the brink of his overblot. You remember the desperate glow in your hands, the way his distorted form had stilled under your touch, the pure energy surging through you. No blot. Just light.

“It was,” you admit. “That magic is what our kingdom has safeguarded for centuries. Pure energy. Untainted by the corruption of blotting.”

Riddle’s brow creases. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I could have helped.”

“It’s not something I wanted to burden you with,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “You have so much on your plate already. You’re the dorm leader, managing all of Heartslabyul, and on top of that, your own studies. I didn’t want to complicate things.”

He steps closer, his posture rigid but his eyes softening as they meet yours. “You’re not a burden,” he says quietly but firmly. “I want to help you. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Your heart tightens at his words. He’s always been so strong, so in control of everything. But here he is, offering to share the weight of a secret that could shift the balance of the world’s magic.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to say. “There’s more to it. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here wasn’t just to attend NRC. It’s because the balance of magic in Twisted Wonderland has been… fractured. Our magic—the Empire’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago, and now the Mirror believes it’s time to reunite them.”

His eyes widen, the seriousness of the situation settling in. “Reunite the magic? How?”

“I was chosen to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s,” you explain. “My kingdom’s magic is pure and powerful, but without the balance of your world’s magic, it’s unstable. There’s an imbalance, Riddle. It’s why overblots are becoming more frequent.”

He winces at the mention of overblots. He knows that all too well. “So… the Dark Mirror sent you here as part of a prophecy? To fix the magic?”

You nod. “Yes. But I didn’t want to drag you into that. I just… wanted to be normal for a while.”

There’s silence for a moment as Riddle processes everything. His mind must be spinning—ancient kingdoms, magical prophecy, a mission that spans centuries. But then, slowly, he reaches for your hand. His fingers brush against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I’m in this with you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

He straightens, his usual air of authority returning. “We need to make a plan. There’s a lot that needs to be done if we’re going to reunite the Empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s.”

You chuckle softly. “You’re already thinking ahead.”

“Of course,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is too important to leave to chance.”

You squeeze his hand, grateful for his support. You’ve known all along that this mission was going to be a monumental task, but having him by your side makes it feel more manageable.

“No more secrets, alright?” Riddle adds, his tone softer now.

“No more secrets,” you promise, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like the weight of the world isn’t yours to bear alone.

Leona Kingscholar

You’ve always known that keeping your true identity from Leona wouldn’t last forever. He’s sharp—far too sharp to miss something as big as the fact that you’re not just any transfer student. But so far, you’ve managed to fly under the radar. Leona’s laziness and your tendency to avoid unnecessary confrontation have kept your secret under wraps. Until now.

It’s a typical sunny day in the Savanna, and Leona is lounging on his favorite spot in the botanical garden. You’re sitting beside him, staring at the letter in your hand, the seal of your empire unmistakable. The weight of the truth presses on your chest as you glance at him, knowing you can’t keep this from him any longer.

“Oi, herbivore, why you fidgetin’ like that?” Leona drawls without even opening his eyes, his voice deep and lazy, though you can sense the undercurrent of curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around the letter. “Leona, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He cracks open one eye, barely lifting his head to look at you. “If you’re about to tell me you broke one of Ruggie’s bones or something, I really don’t care.”

You let out a small laugh despite the nerves swirling in your stomach. “No, it’s not that. It’s… bigger than that. A lot bigger.”

Leona raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move. “Bigger than the time you saved me from my overblot with that weird magic of yours? You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Your breath hitches at the memory. The power you’d unleashed back then—the pure, non-blot magic that had surged from your very soul to pull him back from the edge. He’d never asked too many questions about it, which had always struck you as odd. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how close he’d come to losing control.

“I’m not who you think I am, Leona,” you say, feeling the weight of the confession settle in. “I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire across the sea. One that hasn’t been in contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Leona’s other eye opens now, and he shifts to sit up, his attention fully on you for the first time. “What?”

You offer a weak smile, holding up the letter. “This is from my family. They’re reminding me of the mission I was sent here for.”

“Mission?” His voice is lower now, a growl edging into his words. “What mission?”

You take a deep breath and begin to explain. “Our empire’s magic… it’s pure energy. It doesn’t generate blot like the magic here. But centuries ago, we lost contact with Twisted Wonderland, and the Dark Mirror believes that the magic of our two worlds needs to be reunited. That’s why I’m here.”

Leona’s eyes narrow as he processes this, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “So that’s why your magic didn’t cause blot. And why you’ve been so secretive.”

“Yes,” you admit. “I didn’t want to complicate things. I just wanted to be normal here.”

Leona lets out a scoff, running a hand through his hair. “Normal? In this place? You should’ve known better, herbivore. Especially being around me.”

You sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk. “I know. I should’ve told you sooner. But I didn’t want you to see me as just another royal.”

Leona gives you a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Another royal? Like I care about all that. I’m barely interested in my own kingdom’s politics. Why would I give a damn about yours?”

You blink, momentarily stunned. “Wait, really?”

He shrugs, lying back down in the grass, his arm draped lazily over his eyes. “Look, princess or not, you’re still you. That’s what matters. And as for that mission of yours—” he lifts his arm to peer at you, “—I’m not getting involved in that mess unless I absolutely have to.”

You laugh softly, relieved that he’s taking this much better than you expected. “Thanks, Leona.”

He grunts in response, already seeming half-asleep again. “Whatever. Just don’t make me do extra work.”

You smile, lying back beside him, your heart lighter now that the truth is out. Somehow, you knew Leona wouldn’t care about your title. He’s never been one to get caught up in the pomp and circumstance of royalty. But now, with him beside you, it feels like maybe this mission won’t be so impossible after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

You sit in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the sleek furniture and polished surfaces doing little to ease the anxiety swirling in your chest. The letter from your family rests on the table between you, the wax seal broken. Azul hasn’t opened it yet, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

Azul likes to know everything. He likes to have control, to understand the pieces in play so he can manipulate the board to his advantage. And now, here you are, about to shatter his carefully constructed perception of you.

“So,” Azul begins, his voice smooth as ever, though you can hear the underlying tension, “what’s in the letter?”

You swallow, glancing down at the envelope before meeting his gaze. “It’s… from my family. My real family.”

Azul’s eyes narrow slightly, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world, Azul. I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire far across the sea. We haven’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

Azul’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering across his usually composed face. “A princess?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “You? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit. “I just wanted to fit in. To be… normal.”

Azul stares at you for a long moment, his sharp mind already racing through the implications. “And the magic you used to stop my overblot…?”

“It’s my kingdom’s magic,” you explain. “It’s pure energy, uncontaminated by blot. That’s why it didn’t corrupt me.”

Azul’s fingers tap lightly against the arm of his chair as he considers your words. “So, you’ve been keeping this from me the entire time.”

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” you say, your voice soft. “I didn’t want you to treat me any differently.”

Azul lets out a soft chuckle, though there’s an edge to it. “You didn’t want to complicate things? Darling, you’re a Crown Princess from a lost empire with magic that doesn’t generate blot. Things were already complicated.”

You wince, but he’s not wrong. You knew keeping this secret wouldn’t last forever, but you had hoped for a little more time.

“And this letter?” Azul gestures to the unopened envelope. “What does it say?”

“It’s from my family,” you explain. “They’re reminding me of my mission. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here.”

Azul’s curiosity sharpens, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Mission? What mission?”

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “Our magic—my kingdom’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago. The Dark Mirror believes it’s time to reunite it with Twisted Wonderland’s magic. That’s why I’m here.”

Azul leans forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Reunite the magic? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

You shake your head. “I’m still figuring that out. But… it’s why I was brought here. And why I used my magic during the overblots. I was trying to restore balance.”

Azul’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I see. This… changes things.”

You tilt your head, unsure of what he means. “Changes things how?”

Azul’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Well, if you’re a princess, that means you have access to resources. Power. Connections. I imagine there’s a great deal of opportunity in this… alliance.”

You sigh, giving him a wry smile. “Always thinking about business, aren’t you?”

Azul chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “It’s what I do best. But—” his expression softens slightly, and he meets your gaze, “—I won’t push you. Not on this. It’s… a lot to take in.”

You relax a little, grateful for his understanding. “Thank you.”

Azul nods, though the calculating glint never fully leaves his eyes. “Of course. Just… keep me informed. I’d hate to be left in the dark again.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sense of relief in your chest. The truth is out, and while Azul is already scheming, you know he won’t push you too far. At least, not yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

Jamil Viper

Living in Scarabia means heat, sand, and secrets. You and Jamil have grown close—close enough that hiding your own secret from him has become a heavy burden. He’s already shared so much with you, trusted you with his frustrations, his ambitions, his deepest thoughts. It’s only fair you do the same.

The two of you sit in the common room of Scarabia, the afternoon heat baking the walls outside. Jamil is making tea, his movements precise and efficient, while you fidget with the letter in your lap. He’s been keeping an eye on you, even though he hasn’t said anything yet.

You can feel it in the air—he knows something’s up.

Finally, as he pours the tea, Jamil’s eyes flick over to the envelope in your hands. “You’ve been staring at that for a while now,” he says casually, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his voice. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate, but you know it’s time. You can’t keep this from him any longer. “It’s… from my family,” you begin carefully, watching his reaction. “My real family.”

Jamil’s brow furrows slightly as he takes a seat across from you. “Real family?”

You nod, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’ve been keeping something from you, Jamil. Something big.”

His gaze sharpens, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. We’ve been isolated from Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Jamil’s eyes widen, just for a second, before his expression smooths over into something more neutral. He sets his tea down carefully, though you can see his mind racing. “A princess.”

“Yes,” you say, your voice steadying. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to live normally here.”

Jamil leans back, crossing his arms. “So, why tell me now?”

“Because I trust you,” you admit. “And… because there’s more.”

Jamil’s eyes narrow slightly. “More?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “The reason I’m here… the Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot, and it’s powerful. That’s the magic I used to stop your overblot.”

Jamil is silent for a long moment, processing your words. You can see the tension in his posture, the way he’s trying to make sense of everything you’ve just told him. “So, all this time… you’ve been hiding this from everyone.”

“Yes,” you say softly. “I didn’t want you to think of me differently.”

He lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Differently? You’re a princess from a lost empire, wielding magic that could change the entire world. Of course I’m going to think of you differently.”

Your heart sinks at his words, but Jamil quickly shakes his head, as if realizing how harsh he sounded. “I mean… it’s a lot to take in. But I get why you kept it a secret.”

You exhale in relief. “Thank you.”

Jamil’s gaze softens, though there’s still a guarded look in his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If this mission of yours… if it starts to get dangerous, tell me. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

You smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I promise.”

Jamil nods, his expression still thoughtful as he takes another sip of tea. “Good. Now, about this magic of yours… I’m guessing you’re not just going to leave it at that, are you?”

You laugh softly. “No, I’m still figuring it out. But I’ll keep you posted.”

Jamil smirks, leaning forward. “You’d better.”

Vil Schoenheit

Of all the people you’ve hidden your secret from, you think Vil is the one who would be the least surprised by the truth. He’s always been perceptive, always seen through the facades people try to present. And yet, as you sit in the elegant parlor of Pomefiore, you feel more nervous than ever.

The letter from your family rests on the table in front of you, its royal seal broken but the weight of its contents still pressing heavily on your mind. Vil sits across from you, perfectly poised as ever, sipping tea with the grace of someone who expects perfection in every aspect of life.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Vil remarks, his violet eyes fixed on you. “Something troubling you, darling?”

You swallow, your fingers twitching nervously. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

Vil raises an elegant brow, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. “Oh?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s about who I really am.”

Vil leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Go on.”

“I’m not just a transfer student from another world,” you begin, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. An empire that hasn’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

For the briefest moment, you see a flicker of surprise in Vil’s eyes before his expression smooths back into its usual composed elegance. “A Crown Princess,” he repeats, as if tasting the words. “Well, that certainly explains a few things.”

You blink, caught off guard by his calm reaction. “Wait… you’re not surprised?”

Vil smiles, though there’s a sharpness to it. “I suspected there was more to you than met the eye. You’ve always carried yourself with a certain… grace. It makes sense now.”

You let out a small laugh, relief flooding through you. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you figured something out.”

Vil’s smile softens, and he tilts his head slightly. “But why tell me now? Why reveal this secret after all this time?”

“Because it’s not just about me being a princess,” you say, your voice more serious now. “There’s a mission. The Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot. That’s the magic I used to stop the overblots.”

Vil’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze sharpening. “So that’s how you managed to stop those overblots without succumbing to the corruption.”

You nod. “Yes. But it’s more than that. I was sent here to restore balance. To reunite the magic of our two worlds.”

Vil is silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he processes this new information. “I see. That’s quite the responsibility.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Tell me about it.”

Vil watches you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over you as if assessing something. Then, with a graceful movement, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his. “You’ve carried this secret for long enough. I imagine it’s been a heavy burden.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. “It has.”

Vil’s gaze softens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this. If this mission is as important as you say, then you’ll need support. And I intend to be that support.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you squeeze his hand gently. “Thank you, Vil. That means a lot.”

Vil smiles, a genuine smile this time, free of the sharp edges he usually wears. “Of course, darling. Now, about this magic of yours… I imagine it’s quite powerful.”

You chuckle softly. “You have no idea.”

Vil’s eyes gleam with curiosity, and you can tell that he’s already thinking about the possibilities. “Then perhaps it’s time we start planning. After all, if you’re going to reunite the magic of two worlds, you’ll need to do it with style.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Vil.”

And as you sit there, your hands still intertwined, you realize that with Vil by your side, this mission might just be possible after all.

Idia Shroud

You’ve always known Idia Shroud to be an enigma wrapped in blue flames and social anxiety. It’s what made him so interesting to you. His genius and quirks drew you in, even if he spent more time online than in the real world. You started off as friends, but somewhere along the way, things changed. Despite his reclusive nature, you’d found yourself growing closer to him, enough to know there’s something deeper between you two now.

But you’ve been keeping a secret from him. A huge secret. And today, sitting in his dorm room, surrounded by the blue light of his computer screens, you feel that familiar anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

You glance over at Idia, who’s completely absorbed in some new game. His fingers move with lightning speed across the keyboard, his eyes flickering with concentration. “Hey, Idia,” you start, keeping your tone casual, but your hands feel clammy.

He doesn’t look up from his game but hums, acknowledging you. “Hmm? Yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He pauses the game—actually pauses it—and turns in his chair, looking at you, his eyes wide with curiosity and maybe a little bit of nervousness. “Uh, this sounds like a boss-level conversation. What’s up?”

You fidget, trying to find the right words. “I’m… not exactly who you think I am. I’m not just a student here at NRC. I’m actually the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea.”

For a second, Idia just stares at you, and you can almost see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. Then, very slowly, he says, “You’re… what now?”

“A princess,” you repeat, feeling awkward under his intense stare. “My empire hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years. The Dark Mirror brought me here because I’m supposed to reunite the magic of my empire with this world’s magic.”

Idia blinks. Then he blinks again. “So… you’re like, a real-life anime protagonist?” He tilts his head, and his eyes widen even further. “Wait—does that make me… the side character? Or am I the support role??”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “You’re more important than that, Idia. And there’s more. The magic I have—it’s different. It doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

The room goes silent, except for the quiet hum of his computers. Idia’s mouth drops open, and his hair flares a little brighter, flickering with blue flames. “Wha—huh?! You did what?!”

“I used my empire’s magic,” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s pure energy, and I used it to pull you out of your overblot. It’s part of why I’m here. I’m supposed to reunite this lost magic with Twisted Wonderland.”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to have a full system crash. “Hold on, hold on. So, you’re a princess, with special magic, and you saved me with it? Like, an actual OP protagonist moment?!”

“Well… yeah, I guess,” you say, chuckling at his reaction. “It wasn’t exactly easy, but…”

“You’re insane,” he blurts out, his voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. “I mean—cool! But also totally insane. This is like something straight out of an otome game or a fantasy RPG. And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?!”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Idia’s fingers twitch at his sides, and he turns back to his desk, muttering something under his breath. “A real princess… crazy… and you saved me with magic… seriously, this is like level 99 plot stuff.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a bit lighter now that the truth is out. “So… you’re not mad I didn’t tell you sooner?”

He spins back around, shaking his head. “Mad? No way. I mean, okay, a little blindsided, but this is cool. Way cooler than anything I’ve ever played! And—wait—” He pauses, eyes narrowing, “Does this mean I have to start bowing or something? I don’t do that royal etiquette stuff.”

You laugh. “No, Idia. You don’t have to bow.”

His shoulders visibly relax, and he sighs in relief. “Good. ‘Cause, yeah, not happening.”

There’s a moment of silence as Idia processes everything, his brain probably running a million calculations at once. Then, very quietly, he says, “You really saved me, huh?”

You nod, feeling a soft warmth spread through you. “Yeah. I couldn’t let you go.”

Idia looks down, his cheeks flushing pink, his flames flickering more erratically. “Th-thanks. I guess… I owe you, big time.”

You smile, reaching out to gently take his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Idia. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He glances at your hand in his, eyes wide, and then back up at you. “So, uh… does this make me, like, your royal confidant or something? Sidekick? Player two?”

You laugh again, squeezing his hand. “How about just you? That’s more than enough.”

Idia blushes harder, his hair flaring a bright blue, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Okay… I guess I can live with that.”

As you sit together in the soft glow of his room, the weight of your secret finally lifted, you feel like everything is falling into place. Maybe the Dark Mirror knew what it was doing after all.

Malleus Draconia

The air in the halls of Diasomnia feels different today, charged with a strange energy. Malleus Draconia, the formidable heir to the Thorn Fairy legacy, has always held an aura of mystery, but you’ve come to know him as someone who protects his friends fiercely. You’ve grown closer with him, and the bond you share has blossomed into something deeper.

But there’s one truth that still lies between you—your identity as a princess from a lost empire. You’ve kept it hidden for so long, but now it feels like the right moment to reveal your true self.

As you and Malleus stroll through the gardens, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you decide it’s time. You can feel your heart racing, but the beauty of the moment encourages you.

“Malleus,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence that’s enveloped you both. “There’s something important I need to share with you.”

His emerald eyes focus on you, curiosity piqued. “What is it, my dear?”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a student here. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea, and I’ve come to reunite the magic of my empire with Twisted Wonderland’s magic.”

For a moment, Malleus is silent, his expression unreadable. “A princess?” he finally says, his voice low and smooth. “Is this why you have been avoiding the subject of your past?”

You nod, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “Yes. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Malleus tilts his head slightly, his long horns catching the light. “You think I would judge you for your title? You are the same person I care for, no matter your origins.”

A rush of warmth floods through you. “Thank you, Malleus. I was worried you might think I was hiding something from you.”

His expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “You carry a great burden, and it is only fair that you share it with those who hold you dear. But there is more, is there not?”

You bite your lip, hesitant. “Yes. The Dark Mirror brought me here for a reason. I must reunite our two magics—the magic of my empire, which has been lost to time, and the magic of Twisted Wonderland.”

His eyes gleam with interest, and he nods slowly. “And you possess this magic?”

“I do. It’s pure energy that doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

Malleus’s expression shifts from curiosity to admiration. “You wield such power? That is remarkable.”

You feel a rush of pride at his words, but also an ache of vulnerability. “I want to do this, Malleus. I want to restore balance and reunite our worlds.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Then you shall not do it alone. I will stand by your side, and together we shall see this through.”

Your heart swells at his support, and you nod, feeling a sense of determination wash over you. “Thank you, Malleus. That means the world to me.”

As the sun sets behind you, casting a golden hue over the garden, you realize that you are no longer alone in this mission. With Malleus by your side, the path ahead feels bright and full of possibilities.

Ruggie Bucchi

Life at NRC is never boring, especially when you’ve got Ruggie Bucchi at your side. Dating Ruggie had been an unexpected twist of fate—he was sly, resourceful, and could charm his way out of any situation. Plus, his loyalty and sharp wit made him someone you could always rely on. And after Leona’s overblot, when you had used your strange, powerful magic to stop him, you and Ruggie had become even closer.

But there was something you hadn’t told him. Something that’s been weighing on your mind. Sitting on the worn couch in Savanaclaw’s lounge, you glance over at Ruggie, who’s happily munching on some snacks he’d stolen from the kitchen.

“Hey, Ruggie,” you begin, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “Can we talk about something?”

He looks up, still chewing. “What’s up?” His tone is casual, but his sharp eyes pick up on your serious expression. “You look like you’re about to drop some heavy news.”

You take a deep breath. There’s no easy way to say this. “So… remember how I stopped Leona’s overblot? How I used magic that wasn’t from this world?”

Ruggie stops chewing, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, how could I forget? You were shining like the sun and stopped him without a scratch. Pretty wild stuff.”

You swallow. “There’s a reason for that. I’m not from Twisted Wonderland, but that’s not the whole story. I’m actually a princess—the Crown Princess—of an empire across the sea. The magic I used is the lost magic of my empire, and the Dark Mirror pulled me here to reunite it with this world’s magic.”

Ruggie freezes, the snack he’s holding slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he just stares at you, blinking. Then he bursts out laughing. “Ha! Good one! You really had me for a sec there.”

But when you don’t laugh back, his chuckles die out. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re… a princess?”

You nod, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. “Yeah. The Dark Mirror brought me here because it’s time to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. It’s my mission.”

Ruggie blinks again, his mouth hanging open slightly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” He rubs his head, as if trying to process everything. “You’re telling me I’ve been dating royalty this whole time?”

“Well, technically, yes.” You manage a small smile. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Ruggie is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to compute what you’ve just said. Then, with a sly grin, he leans back against the couch. “Well, I guess I always knew I had good taste. Didn’t think I’d end up with a princess, though. What’re the odds?”

You laugh, feeling the tension in your chest loosen slightly. “Does it… bother you?”

He shakes his head, though he still looks a little dazed. “Nah. I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I’ve always been good at rolling with the punches. If anything, it explains a lot about you. That magic of yours is on a whole different level.”

You sigh in relief. “I was worried you’d think it was too much.”

Ruggie grins, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Too much? Nah. I mean, I’ve dealt with Leona for years, right? Besides, this just means I gotta up my game. Can’t have a princess thinking I’m slacking off.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you’ve ever slacked off.”

He smirks, but then his expression softens. “But for real… you stopping Leona’s overblot? That was something else. I’ve never seen magic like that. You saved him.”

You nod. “It’s the magic of my empire. It doesn’t generate blot. It’s pure energy. I’ve been trying to figure out how to use it properly, but it’s… a lot.”

Ruggie leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. But hey, you’ve got me now. I’ll make sure you don’t burn out or anything.”

You smile at him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “Thanks, Ruggie. I really appreciate it.”

He winks. “Anything for you, Princess.”

You playfully punch his arm, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. Despite everything, Ruggie always knows how to make you feel at ease.

As the day goes on, you both continue lounging around the dorm, the weight of your confession already feeling lighter. And as you sit there with Ruggie, you can’t help but feel grateful that, out of everyone, it’s him by your side.

Later, when you return to your room, you find yourself thinking about everything that’s happened since you arrived at NRC—the overblots, your magic, the Dark Mirror’s mission. You’ve been carrying this secret for so long, but now that Ruggie knows, it feels like a burden has been lifted.

But then you remember the rest of your mission. You have to reunite your magic with Twisted Wonderland’s, and that’s no small feat.

Still, with Ruggie by your side, you feel like you can handle whatever comes next.

Masterlist

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