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daemour · 12 days ago

Text

MDNI

➳Pairing: mafia boss! Wooyoung x f! nightclub owner! Reader

➳Genre: Mafia au, angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff, smut, E for explicit

➳Summary: The line between hate and love is thin. You're aware of this, and yet you can't help but love Wooyoung, no matter how badly he treats you.

➳Word Count: 15017

➳Warnings: Violence, toxic behaviour from a romantic partner, guns, death, murder, minor injuries, Wooyoung can be read as yandere-he's extremely possessive, manipulation, language, coersion, sexual innuendos [smut warnings under cut]

This was written for @sanjoongie's Year of the Villains: Year of the Snake collaboration! It was extremely fun to write for, despite all the emotion rollercoasters I went on (mostly of my own doing)

This is indeed a chonker of a fic, so I'd like to formally apologise >v< but please enjoy! It's got very dark themes, so please make sure to read the warnings amply!

A big thank you to @thelargefrye for helping me out with the plot!

➳Smut Warnings: Public touching (no intercourse), slight drunken sex (do not do this), some breast play, praise, degradation, dom/sub (Wooyoung dom, reader sub), unprotected (do not do this without prior discussion), oral (m), deepthroating, fingering (f), riding, !! UNDERNEGOTIATED GUN PLAY !! (do not do this)

➳Please Note: Some scenes will appear dubcon. In one, YN is tipsy, and in others, she has been in fear of Wooyoung prior. Please read at your own risk.

!! If I've missed any, please let me know !!

“C’mere, doll,” Wooyoung purrs. His lips pull into a wicked smile he has reserved for you, devoid of any softness. His eyes glint as he rakes his gaze up and down your body, every bit the kingpin of the drug scene in his city.

You step forward, your heels clicking with every step you take. You don’t remember how you ended up in this position, starting as a measly nightclub owner. But you hadn’t realised your club ran right in the strip he controls, and one day you were late with rent.

When he came personally, infamous drug lord Jung Wooyoung, something about you just caught his favour. And you can’t refuse his favour, not unless you wanted your club burnt to the ground.

As you move to take a seat next to him, Wooyoung tsks, raising a hand. “Not there,” he instructs, and you hesitate, your false confidence wavering.

“Where would you like me to sit?” you ask, although you know what his answer is going to be.

A smirk plays on his lips as he takes notice of your hesitation, clearly amused by the way you’re trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “On my lap, doll,” he commands, patting his thigh expectantly. His eyes gleam with a predatory intensity, making it clear this isn’t a request but an order from the man who holds your livelihood in his hands.

The air seems to thicken with tension as he waits for you to comply, the weight of his dominance palpable. It’s a subtle reminder of just how much power he wields, and how helpless you are against it.

You hesitate ever so slightly before moving towards him, your movements stiff. As you carefully settle yourself on the edge of his knees, you cross your ankles to try and keep some semblance of your composure.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes, displeased with the minimal contact between you two. Before you can do anything else, he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against his chest, his fingers digging into your body.

“Now, that’s better,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear as he presses a light kiss to your temple. His hand slides up your side, splaying across your waist possessively. “You look even prettier when you’re squirming under my touch.”

Your eyes flick nervously towards the other crime bosses lining the table. Although none of them are as influential as Wooyoung, you still never would’ve expected to see them so close. As Wooyoung’s hands continue to roam your body, you try not to flinch or squirm so much, not willing to hear lewd comments or see the leering from the others.

“Your rings are cold,” you mutter in Wooyoung’s ear as you lean away from his touch ever so slightly. It’s a bid to get him to focus his attention elsewhere, although you know it’ll be in vain.

At your quiet comment, Wooyoung chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, they’ll be warmed up soon enough,” he retorts, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to brush against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is deliberate, meant to break your fragile attempts at appearing demure. “If you’re truly feeling chilly, maybe we should find a way to heat things up, no?”

With that, he pulls your head towards him, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss that leaves you breathless with no doubt about his intentions. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming it as his own.

Fidgeting, you turn your head to whisper to him, “There are men here…” You turn your eyes down, avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Let them watch, doll,” he purrs, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment before shifting to the assembled men. “They all know who you belong to.” Despite his words, he does have business to attend to, and he reins in his affection, though his hands still wander your body possessively.

As the meeting progresses, as much as you try to pay attention, he leans in to murmur something in your ear, reminding both you and everyone else that you’re his plaything.

When a particularly heated discussion arises, Wooyoung’s grip on your thigh tenses, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin in a twisted comfort. It’s a silent message—stay close, stay quiet, and remember your place in this world.

You keep your eyes trained on the wall, although you can still feel the stares of everyone on your body. Wooyoung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. The unspoken warning is clear; keep your eyes and hands to yourself, lest he shows exactly why he’s the kingpin.

As the meeting winds down, Wooyoung rises to his feet, pulling you up with him. He keeps a firm hold on your waist, guiding you through the crowded room, the men parting for him. Once outside, he releases you abruptly, stepping back to light a cigarette.

“You did well tonight, doll,” he remarks, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Remember, you’re mine to flaunt or hide, whenever I please.” With that, he turns to leave, expecting you to follow without question.

Before you can move to follow, a hand grabs your wrists and yanks you back. You come face to face with a face you’ve seen on papers Wooyoung leaves out rarely—an up and coming drug lord, one new enough to not realise exactly how damning it can be to cross Wooyoung. You quickly yank your arm out of his grip, holding back from striking the man in his neck. “Now, hold on,” he grins like a cat waiting to swallow a bird. “Why don’t we share?”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrow to slits as he spins around, his expression deadly calm. “Sharing isn’t exactly my style,” he drawls, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Especially when it comes to what’s mine.”

His gaze flickers to the man holding you captive, a silent threat hanging in the air. After a tense moment, you’re released, the man stepping back with a sheepish grin.

“I was just joking, kingpin. No need to get testy,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Wooyoung watches him for another beat before nodding curtly. “See that you keep it that way,” he warns before turning back to you. “Let’s go, doll. We have business to attend to.”

As we start to leave again, the man mutters under his breath, apparently just wishing for death, “Why bring your plaything along if we can’t use it? Might as well ask us to lick your ass.”

Unfortunately for him, Wooyoung’s hearing is sharp.

His expression darkens further at his subordinate’s crude remark, his grip on your arm tightening almost painfully. “You want a piece of my action, huh?” he sneers, spinning to face the insolent man once more.

Before you can even react, Wooyoung’s fist connects with the lord’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. The sound of cracking bone echoes as he delivers a vicious kick to his ribs, pinning him beneath his boot.

“You forget your place, fool,” Wooyoung snaps, his face contorting with fury. “My ‘plaything’ is off-limits to every last one of you. Touch her again, and you’ll wish for death before you even have time to blink.”

With a final, brutal stop, Wooyoung lends down and presses the butt of his cigarette to the lord’s forehead, branding him with shame before flicking the ashes onto the floor and straightening up.

“Apologies for the interruption, doll. Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to try me,” he hums, his voice softening until it’s almost unrecognisable.

He leads you away from the scene, his pace quick and purposeful. The silence is heavy, the tension from before still simmering in the air. As you reach his car parked a block away, Wooyoung finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “That was a mistake, letting him get under my skin like that. But you saw how quickly I dealt with him, right? Don’t worry, no one touches you without my permission.” He glances at you sidelong, his eyes intense.

You nod shakily, legs trembling from the biting winter wind. “I know…I just wish you wouldn’t lose your temper like that,” you mutter. His bursts of anger always scare you, but Wooyoung’s still riled up and your timing was wrong.

His grip on your elbow tightens, his knuckles whitening as he pulls you closer. “You think I enjoy losing control?” he snarls, lips curling. “I do it to protect what’s mine, including you. It’s my responsibility as the kingpin. How do you think you’ve remained safe? If you can’t handle that, maybe you should find somewhere else to be.” There’s a challenge in his tone, daring you to defy him.

You stumble a little, heels slipping in the ice as you shake your head quickly. You can’t afford to lose his favour. “I meant nothing of it,” you squeak out, shivering at both his intense stare and the wind blowing through your bones. You regret forgoing a coat. “I’m just worried for you.”

Wooyoung heaves a sigh, his expression softening slightly at your words, some of the aggression draining from his stance. He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your chilled skin. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Just focus on staying by my side, and let me handle the rest. You care too much about people, with disregard for yourself.” Oh, how false his words are.

He steps closer, enveloping you in his warmth as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, get in the car and warm up. We need to head home to get you out of the cold.” He guides you forward, his tone reassuring, but there’s an underlying edge that suggests he won’t tolerate any further dissent.

You try to keep yourself from tripping as you hurry forward to slide into the passenger seat. Your face is warm from his touch, but your heart is twisted at his sweet words. The back-and-forth of his actions always confused you, and today is no exception. A constant question in your mind is why he keeps you around.

As Wooyoung slips into the driver’s seat, he pauses for a moment, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Get comfortable, doll. We’ve got a long ride to the apartment,” he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the air.

Once you’re settled and the car is heated up, he pulls out of the parking spot, merging seamlessly into the late-night traffic. The silence between you stretches, punctuated only by the hum of the tires and the occasional blare of a horn.

Your hand twitches as you debate whether to indulge yourself and reach out to hold his hand resting on the console. It’s not wise to entangle yourself further into his web, but as much as you know you shouldn’t, you crave his touch as well.

Wooyoung notices your hesitation, his piercing gaze flickering to your hand before returning to the road. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as he senses your inner turmoil.

“After all these months, you still can’t decide whether to bite or run, hmm?” he muses, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of something else you can’t place. “It’s cute, really.”

Without looking away from the road, he lifts his free hand, extending his fingers invitingly. “Come on, doll. Go ahead.”

Tentatively, you reach out to interlock your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth his hand brings to you. As soon as your hands connect, Wooyoung’s thumb begins to rub gentle circles, applying gentle pressure. “There you are, doll. Just relax,” he coos, his voice dripping with honeyed persuasion.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. You can’t help but lean into his side, craving more of his comforting heat.

As the miles fly by, Wooyoung continues to play with your hand, his caresses gradually becoming bolder. His fingers dance across your palm, tracing intricate patterns that leave goosebumps in their wake.

Despite the intimacy of the gesture, there’s always a quiet reminder in the back of your mind that he’s a dangerous man, and that in his world, you belong to him. Both body and soul.

Weeks pass, and the nightclub is hosting a private party for Wooyoung’s closest associates. Instead of attending as an owner, you’re Wooyoung’s guest. It’s almost embarrassing to be seen as this by your employees, but there’s enough liquor in your stomach that it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

Wooyoung stands beside you, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as he surveys the crowded room. The dim lighting casts a flattering glow on his features, making him look every inch the powerful kingpin he is.

You’re doing great, doll. The place looks amazing tonight,” he praises, his lips curling into a smile. “My boys are enjoying themselves.”

He nods towards a group of suited men, their clothing a stark contrast to the colourful lights and their wives’ pretty dresses. They’re clearly mafia men, and the way they watch the room with calculating gazes makes it clear they’re always on high alert.

Wooyoung leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “And don’t forget, you’re my doll tonight. So behave yourself and make sure everyone knows it.”

You nod happily, the alcohol in your system making you more responsive to his commands. Although you usually do end up bending to his will, there’s always pushback at first. Tonight, however, you’re content with being a good doll.

Wooyoung smiles fondly, chuckling low in his throat as he pulls you closer. “That’s more like it, sweetheart. I like seeing you happy and compliant,” he purrs, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm.

As the night wears on, Wooyoung keeps a possessive grip on you, ensuring everyone present knows you’re his. He introduces you to his associates as his “wife”, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a casual ease that makes your stomach flutter.

When a particularly bold associate approaches, thinking he can steal your attention, Wooyoung’s reaction is swift and decisive. He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him with an eyebrow raised and a sharp statement on his tongue. “Hands off. She’s mine.”

The man backs off, and Wooyoung turns his attention back to you, a smug grin playing on his lips. “See, doll? No need to worry, or fight for yourself. Just remember, I’m always going to protect you.”

He guides you towards the bar, ordering another round of drinks for you. As the bartender prepares the cocktails, Wooyoung’s hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing gently. “It’s a successful party,” he informs you, his tone businesslike despite the gleam in his eye. “But after this, we’ll celebrate in style…privately.”

His words leave no room for argument, not that you want to. He’s been in such a good mood since the last investment meeting with the other mafia families, and you’d like to try and take advantage of this rare occasion.

You nod agreeable, face flushed warm as you lean in to press your cheek against his. “Okay,” you hum, a slur to your words. “Want me to clear a room here or go back to th’ apartment?”

Wooyoung’s expression morphs into a quiet amusement at your state, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Leave the club to my people. We’ll head back to the penthouse,” he instructs, his voice low and husky.

As he steers you towards the exit, Wooyoung’s hand never leaves your lower back, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch. Once outside, he flags down a waiting limousine and helps you inside before sliding in beside you.

During the short ride, the tension between you builds, the air thick with unspoken desires. As soon as the car pulls up to the building, Wooyoung opens the door and assists you out, his strong arms wrapping around you to support your weight.

Inside the lavish penthouse, he hands you a glass of water, sobering you up a little more before leading you straight to the bedroom, closing the door behind you with a resolute click.

You smile dopily at him, the alcohol flushing itself out of your system but the high of a party still lingering in your bones. Wooyoung’s gaze rakes over your dishevelled appearance, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Looks like someone had a bit too much fun tonight,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

He starts to undress you slowly, his fingers deftly working to free yourself of the dress. As the fabric falls away, revealing your body, he lets out a low whistle of approval.

“You look delicious like this doll,” he murmurs, his hands skimming your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. “All pretty and pouting for me.”

With deliberate slowness, he peels off his own clothes exposing his chiseled physique to your eager gaze. Once naked, he pulls you into his arms, pressing his hardening length against your lower stomach as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

Happily, you let your mouth drop open for him to take from, whining quietly as your hands tug lightly at his long hair. He groans into the kiss, his tongue diving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. As he deepens the kiss, he walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before gently lowering you into the plush mattress.

Straddling your hips, he breaks the kiss just long enough to trail his lips along your jawline and down the column of your throat. “I’ve wanted you all night, baby,” he admits, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

His hands roam your body, mapping out every inch of you with a reverent touch. His cups your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, coaxing needy moans from your parted lips. His touch is gentle, and you crave it.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Wooyoung demands, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me you’re mine, completely and utterly.”

“I’m yours, completely and utterly,” you parrot, before mirroring his title for you at the party. “Please, ‘husband’. I want you so bad, Wooyoung.”

A triumphant smirk plays on Wooyoung’s lips as he hears your plea. “Good girl,” he praises, his words tinged with dominance. “Now, be a good wife and spread those pretty legs for me.”

As soon as you do so, he settles between your thighs, the tip of his erection teasing your slick entrance. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, mingling with your own feverish arousal.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember your own name,” he promises, his voice a husky growl. With that, he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan escapes him as he savours the wet heat enveloping his cock.

You moan in tandem, back arching as he stretches you out so well. “Ah– please,” you whine.

Wooyoung sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with each powerful thrust, smacking against your cunt with wet sounds. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his deep groans.

Leaning down, he captures your mouth in another bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing intensity. One of his large hands grips your thigh, using it as leverage to drive himself even deeper.

When he breaks the kiss, he nips and sucks at your neck, marking you as his. “Look at me, baby,” he commands, eyes blazing with hunger. “Watch me while I claim this pussy and mark it as mine.

His gaze locks onto your face, the raw lust in his expression sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

You slowly raise your eyes to meet his as your hips stutter and your eyes well up with tears from the please. “Wooyoung– ah–” you moan his name repeatedly like a prayer on your lips.

The sight of tears glistening in your eyes only spurs Wooyoung on, his thrusts becoming more erratic and forceful. He leans down, his forehead resting against yours as he pants heavily.

“That’s right, baby. I’m your ‘husband’, your master,” he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending release. “This cunt belongs to me, understand?”

To emphasise his point, he reaches down and rubs tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge. His movements become more targeted, hitting that spot inside you with each snap of his hips. “Come for me, doll. Let me feel this sweet pussy clench around me,” he demands, his thumb pressing insistently against your sensitive bud.

It doesn’t take much before you come easily with a shriek, creaming around his cock as you squeeze around him like a vice. It’s almost like you’re sucking him in deeper, and it triggers his own release. Wooyoung throws his head back with a guttural moan as he presses his hips against yours impossibly close. His cock pulses and throbs, shooting thick ropes of searing hot come into your cunt.

“Fuck– take it all, you perfect, pretty wife,” he snarls, grinding against you to prolong your pleasure. Wave after wave of pleasure crash over him, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.

As he finally relaxes, he leans on top of you, careful to not crush you with his weight. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses along your sweat-dampened skin between heavy pants. “Thank you, doll,” he murmurs, his voice still rough but a hint of gentleness in it.

You hum, turning in his arms to smile at him. The alcohol is almost out of your system now, and it’s been replaced with a warmth in your belly from his sweet treatment. Your hand moves to cup his cheek gently as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I wish you were like this all the time,” you hum, more to yourself than anything. Maybe it would’ve been easier to love him.

Wooyoung stiffens slightly at your words, a flicker of something—Guilt? Regret?—passing over his features before it’s quickly masked. He rolls off of you, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

“You know I can’t be soft all the time, doll,” he says, his tone carefully neutral. “The world I live in, it requires a certain ruthlessness. But this…” he gestures between the two of you “this is real. You’re the only one who gets to see this side of me.”

His words shock you, a sincere admission of the feelings he hides. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t ask for things you don’t fully understand, doll. My love may not be conventional, but it’s not false. I protect what’s mine, even if I have to do it in ways you don’t always like.”

You nod slowly, hurt flickering in your eyes, although it mixes with an understanding. “I know, Wooyoung. Just…grant it to me in private. Please.”

Wooyoung sighs deeply, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. After a moment of contemplation, he sits up and pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“Alright, doll. I’ll try,” he agrees softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “But you have to promise me something in return. Promise me you’ll never leave me, no matter what happens. Out there in that cruel world, you’re my only light in the darkness.”

His arms tighten around you possessively, as if afraid you might disappear. “I know I’m not an easy man to be with, but you’re stuck with me now. We’re bound together, for better or worse,” he states like it’s what makes the world go round, tilting your chin up with a finger to get you to meet his intense gaze.

You smile at him, eyes shining with an unspoken emotion. Although there are times you question his feelings, moments like these remind you just how much he truly does love you, in his own way. Guilt gnaws at your gut, but it mixes with the warmth of your misplaced love, and you lean up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll stay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

Wooyoung returns the kiss with a tenderness that belies his usual rough exterior, pouring all his pent-up emotions into the gentle caress of his lips against yours. When he finally pulls away, his dark eyes are filled with a rare vulnerability.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with genuine gratitude and affection. “I know I don’t say it nearly enough, and I show it even less, but…I love you, doll. More than anything in my fucked up world.”

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, his touch gentle. “Get some rest now, baby. Tomorrow’s a new day, and I want you well rested.” WIth that, he settles back against the pillows, pulling you flush against his side.

You curl into him, throwing an arm around him as you press your face into his neck. “I love you too. My love,” you murmur, as much as it pains you to admit.

A contented rumble emanates from Wooyoung’s chest as he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you close and enjoying your warmth. “That’s right, my sweet doll,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing purr. “Sleep now, and dream of a world where we love each other freely.”

Despite his tone’s roughness, there’s a tenderness in his words and actions, a loving protectiveness that you’ve craved for so long. You feel cherished, and as it overwhelms the sadness in your heart, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of his heart and the comforting weight of his arms around you.

As your breath evens out, Wooyoung remains awake, watching your face with a fierce devotion. His mind wanders to the enemies he must confront and the dangers that lurk in every shadow. But for now, in this quiet moment of peace, he allows himself to enjoy the feeling of having you by his side.

Gently, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. “I’d do anything to keep you,” he vows under his breath, a claim over your heart. “Anything at all, to make you mine.”

With that thought, he closes his eyes, his dreams filled with visions of a future where you’re safe, and forever his perfect doll. A world where his darkness is gone and your love is pure.

When morning arrives, you roll over only to be met with an empty bed and a note on the bedside table.

‘Good morning, doll.

I had to take care of some business today, but don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, treat yourself and have a bath. We’ll have a busy evening ahead of us.

Wooyoung’

There’s a faint scent of his cologne lingering on the paper, a tangible reminder of his presence even though he’s not here with you. You can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and trepidation, wondering what pulled him away so suddenly. Nevertheless, you decide to follow his advice and indulge in a leisurely morning routine.

As much as your heart aches waking up alone, the bath relaxes you, and you fall fast asleep, sinking deeper into the water.

Hours pass unnoticed as you nap peacefully in the warm, fragrant bathwater. Each soft breath makes your body relax more and more as the sun starts to set.

Just as you begin to stir, a sudden commotion erupts downstairs, the cacophony of raised voices and scuffling feet jolting you awake. Startled, you sit up abruptly, sending water splashing over the edge of the tub. The cool air hits your damp skin, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

Concerned, you quickly dry off and slip into a robe, hurrying down the hall to investigate the source of the disturbance. As you reach the corner, a hulking figure emerges from the shadows, blocking your path.

The imposing man steps forward, revealing a bruised and bloody face, one that is vaguely familiar. He’s clearly been in a fight, and judging by the menacing glint in his eye, he’s far from finished.

“Well, well, well,” he sneers, his gaze raking over you with a lecherous hunger. “Looks like the boss’s little puppet is all grown up and ripe for the taking.”

His words spark panic in you, but before you can react, he lunges at you, grabbing a fistful of your robe and yanking you hard towards him. His hot breath fans your hair as he growls, “Seems Jung has been neglecting his duties. Time to show you what real men can do.”

You struggle against his iron grip, but he’s far stronger than you. You don’t want to go back, and you scream, “Wooyoung–” before stomping on the man’s foot and biting into his hand in a bid to get away.

When his grip loosens, you book it to the bedroom, diving for the loaded gun Wooyoung keeps in the bedside table.

Bloodied and enraged, the attacker gives chase, his heavy footsteps thundering down the hall as you frantically search for the gun. Just as your fingers close around the cold metal, he slams into the doorframe, leaning against it heavily.

“Foolish bitch,” he snarls, reaching out to grab at you once more but missing with his clumsy movement. “You think a little toy like that will save you? You belong back with us.”

His words confuse you, but you don’t falter, whirling around in a flash and aiming the gun at his head. “Stay back! I won’t hesitate to use this!”

The intruder scoffs, unfazed by the weapon. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. Go ahead, shoot me. It’ll just make the boss angrier. You’ve stalled for too long.”

Your finger twitches but you don’t shoot, not yet. Deep down, you realise what he’s talking about, and your arms shake, but your aim remains steady. “I’ll take Wooyoung’s wrath over returning,” you snap. “I’m his doll.”

The man’s smirk fathers for a split second at your declaration, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his battered features. He seems to weigh his options, calculating the risks and rewards.

“I’ll give you credit, sweetheart,” he says slowly. “You’ve got spirit. But that won’t save you from me, or the boss. And it certainly won’t save you from anyone who wants a piece of whatever Jung owns.”

He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his movements measured and menacing. “Now, either you hand over that gun and come with me willingly, or I’ll take it by force and make you regret ever double crossing me or the boss.”

As he advances, you find yourself backed against the wall, the gun still clutched in your white-knuckled hands. Your mind races, desperate for a solution, but the reality of your situation is grim.

Just as the man reaches out, you fire a bullet straight between his eyes. Blood splatters across the room as the intruder crumples to the ground, dead before he even hits the ground. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. And as the gunshot rings in your ears, the door crashes open to reveal Wooyoung, blood streaming down his face and his nose crooked, but alive.

For a long moment, Wooyoung stands frozen, his gaze locked on the lifeless body at your feet. Then, with a low growl, he stalks towards you, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous. “Who sent this bastard?”

Before you can respond, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. “And why the hell did you think you needed to defend yourself? You’re supposed to stay hidden and safe, not play hero with my fucking guns.” His grip tightens, a hint of fear staining the anger in his voice and gaze.

Your eyes dart between him and the body, the adrenaline wearing off and the weight of what you’ve done settling in your stomach. “I…I didn’t know where you were,” you try to explain, your voice sounding foreign even to yourself. “I killed a man. I killed him…I’m a murder.”

As you start to panic, your voice raises in pitch, hands shaking as you drop the gun. Your knees start to buckle. With a swift motion, Wooyoung catches you as you collapse, holding you upright against his broad chest. He strokes your hair soothingly, his touch gentle despite the turmoil raging in his eyes.

“It’s okay, baby,” he coos, his voice a stark contrast to the fury that had consumed him mere moments ago. “You didn’t murder anyone. This son of a bitch had it coming. You defended yourself and me.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he tries to calm your frantic heartbeat. “I should’ve been here to protect you, or brought you with me. Instead, I left you vulnerable, and this is what happens.”

His own breathing grows ragged, the weight of what happened finally crushing him. “We need to get out of here, clean up this mess. Can you stand for me, doll? I need you strong right now.”

You scramble up, leaning against the wall to steady yourself. You can’t keep your stare off the body, even as Wooyoung is hurriedly stuffing a handful of belongings in a duffle bag. He tosses fabric—a dress—in your face. “Put it on. You’re still in just a robe. We don’t have time for anything else,” he commands.

You quickly follow his instruction even as your mind whirs. As you slip into the dress, Wooyoung’s eyes roam over your stiff and stilted movements, a mix of concern and possessiveness flashing across his features. Satisfied that you’re covered, he nods curtly and zips up the duffle bag.

“Let’s go,” he orders, gripping your wrist firmly and leading you out of the room and then the penthouse. The sound of sirens wail in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

He hustles you through the darkened streets, keeping to the shadows as they navigate the labyrinthine alleys of the city. The cool night air does little to calm your racing heart, and you can feel the tension from Wooyoung radiating through his taut muscles.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally slows, guiding you into a nondescript building. It appears abandoned from the outside, but as Wooyoung ushers you inside, it becomes clear that it serves as a secret hideout. The space is sparse but well-equipped, with surveillance monitors lining one wall and a cache of weapons mounted on another.

Wooyoung sets the duffle bag down and turns to face you, his expression grave. “This is our safe house,” he explains, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s where we go when shit hits the fan.”

He steps closer, cupping your face in his calloused hands. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “That will never happen again. I swear it on my life.”

Wooyoung’s words hang heavy in the air, a promise forged in the heat of adrenaline and desperation. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck as if seeking solace in your warmth. For a long moment, he simply holds you, his breaths uneven and ragged against your skin. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes burn with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I need you to stay here, lock yourself in the back room until morning,” he instructs, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for disagreement. “I’ll deal with the aftermath of tonight, but you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “Rest, doll. I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help yourself and reach out to take his wrist, a pleading look in your eyes. “Please promise me,” you beg. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

At your desperate plea, Wooyoung’s resolve falters. He looks down at your hands wrapped around your wrist, then back up at your tear streaked face. A pained expression crosses his features before he forces himself to nod.

“I promise, doll,” he vows, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll come back to you, no matter what. You’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” With those words, he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his love, fear, and determination into the passionate embrace. When he finally breaks away, he presses a final, tender kiss to your forehead.

“I mean it,” he whispers fiercely. “Wait for me, and I’ll return to you.”

As soon as he exits with one last glance towards you, you quickly follow his instruction, locking yourself in the back bedroom and shoving a dresser in front of the door for good measure. While you wait for his return, your mind wanders back to the moment you shot the man, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Hours pass in tense silence, the only sounds being the distant hum of the city and the occasional creak of the old building settling around you. You pace the cramped confines of the room, your thoughts jumbled mess of fear, guilt, and anticipation.

The memory of pulling the trigger replays in your mind like a macabre filmstrip, each detail etched into your brain with painful clarity. The feel of the gun’s weight in your hand, the click of the safety disengaging, the sudden bloom of crimson as the bullet tore through flesh and bone…

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shake off the haunting images. But they linger, refusing to be banished. Just as despair begins to creep in, you head the sounds of footsteps approaching, followed by the rattle of keys unlocking the door.

When it tries to open, but thuds against the dresser instead, you can practically see Wooyoung’s exasperated but fond expression in his voice. “Really, doll?”

You quickly rush over to shove the drawers away, thankful for a distraction from your spiralling thoughts. Wooyoung pushes past the now-cleared barrier, his face a mask of exhaustion and relief. The blood is still on his face, but his nose is set back into place, a bruise blooming over the mottled skin. He cans the room, ensuring you’re unharmed before letting out a sigh and collapsing on the edge of the cot.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he chides, reaching out to tug you onto his lap. His strong arms envelop you, cradling you close as he buries his face in your hair. “I thought…God, I thought I’d lost you.”

He rocks you gently, his breaths evening out as the adrenaline fades. After a moment, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We need to talk about what happened,” he says, his tone serious but not unkind. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up and sleep. You’ve been through enough for one night.”

You lean into his touch, body relaxing despite your racing heart and mind. “We’re safe?” you want to confirm.

Wooyoung nods solemnly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm like he did in his car not even a month ago. “Yes, we’re safe. The body’s been taken care of, and the police won’t find anything linking us to the scene.”

He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “There might be some repercussions within our organisation, but I’ve got everything under control. You don’t need to worry about that right now.” Leaning in, he places a soft kiss on your temple. “All that matters is that you’re here with me, alive and unharmed. That’s all that matters.”

At his reassurance, your lips wobble, and that’s the only warning he gets before you burst into tears, sobs wracking your body. You can’t even form coherent words as the events of the day hit

Wooyoung’s arms tighten around you as you break down, holding you close while you cry. He doesn’t try to comfort you with empty words or false promises; instead, he lets you pour out your emotions, offering only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the solid warmth of his body.

After a while, your sobs gradually subside, leaving you gasping for air and clinging to him like a lifeline. Wooyoung strokes your hair soothingly, his own eyes red-rimmed from the stress of the night.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Let it out, baby. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

He waits patiently until your breathing evens out, then gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. Since you’ve calmed down more, Wooyoung helps you stand and leads you to the small bathroom tucked away in the corner of the room. He starts running warm water in the shower, gesturing for you to undress and step into the stream.

As you wash away the grime and blood of the night, he keeps watch, his eyes never leaving you. When you emerge, dripping and shivering, he wraps you in a towel and dries you off himself, his hands gentle yet possessive.

After you’ve dried off properly and changed into a set of clean clothes, he brings you to the tiny kitchen area, making a warm meal for you. As you eat, he sits beside you, occasionally feeding you bites from his own plate when you’re too exhausted to manage to eat more than a few spoonfuls.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, eyelids heavy as you fight to stay awake and chew mindlessly. “I fucked it up, didn’t I?”

Wooyoung sets his fork down, his expression melting into one of sadness as he reaches out to cup your cheek. “No, baby, you didn’t fuck it up. You did what needed to be done to protect yourself. I’m proud of you, doll.” He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pushing your bowl away. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We both need rest after tonight.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his soft touch. “Okay,” you mumble, yawn escaping your mouth. “I’m sorry,” the apology leaves your mouth again without thinking, and Wooyoung chuckles with no amusement, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. Your safety always comes first, okay?” He stands, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. “Besides, you’re mine. Shouldn’t I be the one handling everything? Rest tonight, doll.”

Carrying you to the small bed, he lays you down gently and pulls the covers over your chilled form before climbing in beside you. His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back against his warm chest. “I’ve got you, doll,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear and his heartbeat lulling you into a relaxed state. “Sleep now, and dream of better days.”

As your eyes shut and sleep claims you, Wooyoung remains vigilant, his eyes never fully closing as he watches over you. Despite the weariness etched on his face, his grip on you remains firm, a silent promise of protection.

Hours later, the first light of dawn creeps through the grimy windows, casting a pale glow over the room. Wooyoung’s hold on you loosens slightly as exhaustion finally overtakes him, and he drifts off into a fitful slumber, still cradling you close. The sounds of the waking city filter in, a distant reminder of the world beyond this cramped sanctuary. But for now, in the quiet moments before reality sets in, a fleeting peace is found.

A few hours later, you awaken, blinking away the sunlight shining into your eyes. Wooyoung stirs beside you, your minimal movements waking him up easily.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning before turning to regard you with a serious expression. “We need to discuss what happened last night,” he begins, his voice calm yet authoritative. “You were targeted because of our closeness, which means our situation just got a little more complicated.”

There’s a long pause as Wooyoung studies your expression intently. “Doll. I need you to be truthful with me. Did you know that man…the one you had killed?” His gaze is piercing, searching for an answer in your face. In this moment, he looks every inch the powerful kingpin, but there’s a vulnerability lurking beneath the surface—a fear that you had betrayed him, turned your back on him.

Your hesitation gives him the answer he needs, and you flinch, waiting for his usual anger to snap, but there’s a long silence. When you crack your eyes open, Wooyoung’s gaze hasn’t left your face. He’s waiting for your explanation.

“He…he’s part of your rival’s gang. The one I was a part of.” Your voice grows more and more timid as you continue talking, but Wooyoung still does not make a noise. “I was selected to take the place of the old owner of the nightclub, and my job was to try and feed information. When you took favour to me, they thought it would be a good opportunity. But I changed my mind at that point. I didn’t want to betray you, and I swear I didn’t do anything against you for the last few years—not since I was allowed to attend meetings. I didn’t want to betray you because–” you cut yourself off.

A flicker of something you can’t place crosses Wooyoung’s features, replaced swiftly by his usual stoic mask, making you wonder if you were just seeing things. “Good,” he says simply, before leaning in and pinning you still with his gaze. “Because I’m not letting you go anymore, no matter what happens.”

He rises from the bed, extending a hand to help you up. “First things first, we need to get you some proper clothes and supplies. Can’t have my doll looking like that, now can we?”

The smirk on his face is playful, but there’s an underlying steel to his words. This is a man who always gets what he wants, and right now, he wants to see you looking the part he wants you to play—a symbol of his power and status, and the failed attempt to rattle his spot as kingpin.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” he urges, not letting you wonder about his unbothered attitude at your confession. You let him lead you towards the door with a firm grip on your hand, just happy he hasn’t killed you on the spot, and is returning to his confident self.

“Wooyoung…” you can’t help but to ask as he unlocks his car parked behind the old building “...I understand if you can’t trust me, so you don’t have to answer. But what was the business you were taking care of? It said in the note you left for me last night, and then when you came, you were hurt. What happened?”

Wooyoung slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a smooth hum. As he navigates through the early morning traffic, he glances at you sidelong, his expression unreadable. “I went to see my associates. And it got a little out of control. Nothing to worry about.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, a habit that betrays his agitation. “Last night was a warning, doll. Someone thinks they can challenge my authority and test loyalties. But they picked the wrong man.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he accelerates through a yellow light. “Rest assured, I’ll deal with them accordingly. But for now, let’s focus on getting you settled and comfortable. That’s my priority.”

There’s a subtle emphasis on the word ‘my’, a reminder that, despite the lie you had lived, Wooyoung will always put your needs first. At least, that’s how Wooyoung sees it.

As you arrive at a high-end boutique, Wooyoung parks the car and rounds the hood to open your door, offering his hand to assist you. Inside, he browses the racks with an expert eye, selecting pieces that showcase your body in the most flattering way possible.

“You look stunning, doll,” he murmurs, helping you into a sleek black dress that flows around your figure like second nature. The material drapes elegantly across your hips and thighs, the neckline plunging just enough to make his pulse quicken.

He steps back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Perfect.”

You smile slowly at him, finally feeling more and more secure in your relationship with him, the murder you committed pushed to the back of your mind. “As you wish it, I shall be whatever you desire.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darken at your words, a thrill of possession coursing through him. He steps closer, his large frame enveloping you as he trails his fingers down the side of your neck, leaving a tingling path in his wake.

“Indeed,” he rumbles, his breath hot against your ear. “My beautiful, obedient doll. Always dressed to please me, ready to fulfill her duties.” His hand slips lower, grazing the swell of your hip before settling on your thigh. The contact is electric, sending sparks dancing along your nerve endings.

“But remember, doll, you’re mine, body and soul. Don’t you ever forget that,” he continues, his voice low and menacing. With that, he releases you, stepping back to survey his work once more. “Now, shall we continue on, my dear?”

Your face flushed, you nod. “Yes, Wooyoung.” In moments like these, it’s easy to pretend that the two of you are a normal married couple, and it’s somewhat comforting. “Where to next?”

Wooyoung leans down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Come, there’s a surprise for you. One to mark you as mine, truly and irrevocably.” He leads you to a jewelers, the woman behind the counter handing him a beautiful glass case.

Inside, a delicate necklace adorned with an intricate diamond pattern sits atop the velvet cloth. As he opens it and fastens it around your neck, his fingers press into your skin. Your breath catches in your throat. “Thank you, Wooyoung,” you gasp, quiet awe in your voice. You twist and lean in to peck his lips gently.

His lips curve into a smug smile as he accepts your kiss and your thanks, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Anytime, my doll,” he murmurs against your mouth, his own lips brushing yours with a hint of hunger.

For a moment, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy, imagining that his is indeed a relationship built on love and affection, rather than power plays and manipulation. But reality soon snaps him back to attention, and he steps away, clearing his throat. “Let’s finish up here and head back to the penthouse,” he suggests, his tone returning to its usual commanding cadence. “I have some business to attend to, and it requires you to be by my side.”

It’s an unspoken reminder that your safety depends on your compliance and proximity to him. He still hasn’t quite given you a reaction to all the truth you had revealed to him. You nod with no further comment, reaching out to grasp his hand quietly as he leads you through the district.

Wooyoung glances at your pensive face, his eyes roving over your features. “You look stunning, doll. Like the queen you are,” he compliments you quietly, the last soft moment he allows you. And with that, the spell is broken.

As you step out of the area, Wooyoung’s demeanour shifts, his gaze hardening as he scans the\ surroundings. His grip on your hand tightens, a silent warning.

“We need to move,” he growls, ushering you to the awaiting car. “I’ve received intel that someone may be tracking your movements. Can’t be too careful these days.”

Once inside the car, he checks his phone with a frown, clearly displeased by whatever message he’s reading. Without saying anything, he speeds off, carrying you both towards the towering skyscraper that serves as Wooyoung’s second lair. The tension in the air is palpable, a stark contrast to the earlier intimacy.

As the two of you walk into the opulent penthouse, Wooyoung’s presence commands every inch of space. The cityscape stretches out before you, a glittering canvas painted by the setting sun. “Welcome home, my doll,” he declares, gesturing grandly to the lavish interior. “Make yourself comfortable while I attend to some urgent matters.”

He strides purposefully towards his study, pausing to glance at you over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss your role in this mess later. For now, sit tight.”

With that, he disappears behind closed doors, leaving you alone amidst the splendor of his domain. The weight of his expectations settles upon you, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between your roles as lover and pawn in his game of power.

The couch is comfy, but it does nothing to soothe your nerves at Wooyoung’s words. As you lose yourself in swirling thoughts and the view outside of the penthouse, a gunshot rings out every so often, echoing through the halls even through closed doors. Each sharp bang makes you jump, although your expression remains neutral.

Under your facade, every shot reminds you of the night you wielded the gun and shot a man dead. As much as you’d never regret keeping yourself and Wooyoung safe, you can’t help but wonder what if you had never gone so far in the first place.

Hours pass, the sound of gunfire punctuating the otherwise tense silence. You try to occupy yourself, browsing through the expensive art books and designer magazines scattered across the coffee table, but your mind keeps drifting back towards the bloodstained memories you’ve worked so hard to bury.

Just as you’re starting to feel the strain, the study door swings open, and Wooyoung emerges, his suit immaculate despite the violence that likely transpired within. He approaches you with a calculated stride, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and something darker.

“Well, that took care of the problem. Our little rat won’t be squealing anymore.” He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the brutal nature of his actions. “But enough about that.”

You can smell the iron of blood off him, but you hold your tongue, waiting for him to continue.

Wooyoung’s gaze lingers on your face, searching for any signs of distress or hesitation. When he finds none, a hint of relief flickers in his eyes before he turns to pour himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard.

He takes a seat beside you, his thigh pressing against yours and sending heat through your body. Your heart pounds in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, hands fisting the fabric of your dress, waiting for him to deliver your judgement on the way you had worked against him, even for just a short while.

Instead, you hear a low chuckle, fingers brushing against your chin as he tilts your head upwards. “Look at me, doll,” he commands. When you raise your eyes to meet his piercing gaze, he continues. “Back when you were talking about your past, you said you didn’t want to betray me, and you stopped short at the why. Finish what you were saying.”

There’s an unspoken understanding in his eyes—he knows what you were going to say, the depth of your affection for him. And yet, he wants to force you to articulate it, to acknowledge the bond that has grown stronger each day.

The room seems to shrink, the weight of his expectations pressing down on your shoulders. Confessing it could either solidify your place by his side, or only bring you more suffering, depending on what he chooses.

You bite your lip, tasting the sting of blood as you look back down at your hands quivering. “I…I love you,” you finally admit, your words quiet enough you swear Wooyoung will be able to hear your heart pounding. “I stupidly fell in love with you.”

For a long moment, the only sound is the steady thrum of the city outside and the ragged beat of your heart. Then, suddenly, Wooyoung reaches out and cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your trembling lip.

“I knew,” he murmurs, his voice so low you almost don’t catch it. “I’ve known all along where you came from, your mission, and…and the change in you. I’ve seen it in your eyes for a while now. The way you look at me? It’s no secret.”

His fingers trail down to press his thumb against the junction of your neck, showcasing his power against you, and yet it is still soft, gentle, and reverent. “I have to admit, it pleases me. Having you by my side, loving me…it’s a treasure I hadn’t anticipated.” But beneath the tender words, a thread of hardness remains, a reminder of the ruthless world he rules. “Yet, as much as I enjoy keeping you close, you’ve lied to me. You’ve used me for your own gain, and you must be punished for that, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you deem as proper, I accept it,” you comply, ready for a sharp hit, or even a gunshot as well. You fight to keep your eyes on him, unable to read his expression.

A heavy silence hangs in the air, the seconds ticking by like hours. Then, unexpectedly, Wooyoung pulls you into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“You’re mine, doll,” he declares, his voice a deep rumble against your ear. “Whatever happens to you, you belong to me. And I won’t let anyone, including who you were, threaten that.” His hands roam possessively over your body, a claim of ownership, a reminder of the twisted dynamic that binds you to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m absolving you of your sins,” he adds, his hot breath ghosting against your skin. “You’ll still face the consequences. Just perhaps not the ones you’ve feared.” He holds you tightly, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as if trying to burn away the shadows of your past. His hand drifts down to the small of your back, pressing you closer.

“You understand, my love? I’m offering you a reprieve, but you must learn to trust me completely. To obey without question, and you will be spared. I’m offering you a chance, and that is not something I give lightly.” Wooyoung leans in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “In return, I’ll ensure your safety…and pleasure.” The implication sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

His grip tightens, as if to reinforce his claims, and yet also a silent allowance for your answer. Not that you need any time to deliberate. Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You nod, a silent agreement, your heart racing in your chest.

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you whisper, the name feeling like a prayer on your tongue. “I understand. I’ll follow your lead, as well as any and all decisions you make.”

You press yourself further into his embrace, craving the sense of security and belonging he offers. Even if it means surrendering parts of himself, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to stay by his side. “And…I trust you,” you add sincerely, the admission slipping out before you can stop it. The words hang in the air, a declaration of faith in the man who wields such power over you.

A satisfied smile plays on Wooyoung’s lips as he hears your whispered submission. He nuzzles your hair, inhaling your scent deeply.

“That’s my good doll,” he praises, his voice a low purr of approval. “You’re back in the game. Soon, you’ll be perfecting the role of my devoted wife.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and his wands begin to wander once more, tracing the contours of your body with a deliberate slowness.

“But first, let’s celebrate our new arrangement, shall we?” Without warning, he spins you to face him, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a flush creeping up your neck. “Get on your knees for me, doll. Show me the respect and obedience you’ve promised me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire.

Without hesitation, you quickly comply, falling to your knees in front of where he sits, looking up at Wooyoung with wide eyes and awaiting his next instruction. Wooyoung’s eyes follow the line of your body, a predatory glint in his eyes. He leans forward, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.

“That’s a good doll,” he repeats, his voice dripping with approval. “Now, open wide. Show me how eager you are to please your husband.”

With that, he releases the button of his trousers, allowing them to sag slightly and reveal the impressive bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. You can practically taste the musky arousal, making your mouth water.

You can’t help but to shift forward until your face pressed against his clothed cock, mouthing at his underwear until he’s groaning at your ministrations. A low growl rips its way out of Wooyoung’s throat as he frees his thick cock from its confines. It slaps against his abdomen, obscene wet sounds making you hunger even more as you watch his precum bead out of the tip.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around the base to guide himself into your waiting mouth. “Take it all, my doll. Every inch.”

As he pushes past your lips, you feel the heat of his flesh, the firmness of his cock stretching your mouth wide. The taste of him floods your mouth—salt and a little sweetness that makes your cunt clench and drip out more wetness to soak your underwear through.

Wooyoung begins to thrust slowly, savouring each vibration you send through his length as you moan and gag around his dick. Each stroke is deliberate, using your mouth for his pleasure and his pleasure only. And that in itself brings you into a heady mindset.

Your hands squeeze your thighs as you try to ignore the increasing wetness between your legs, focusing on sucking and licking as best as you can around his thick cock. His hips rock steadily, sliding in and out of your mouth with lewd sounds echoing through the penthouse. Groans and sighs spill out of his mouth, clearly enjoying your mouth working him to his orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide your movements. “Take every bit of my cock. You look so perfect with it stuffed in your mouth, truly my perfect wife.”

The praise sends a thrill down your spine, even as you choke around his girth. It only serves to heighten your arousal, your cunt throbbing more and more as you swallow around him. You can feel his cock twitch, but before you can react, Wooyoung’s hands tangle in your hair. He holds your head down as he comes, shooting ropes of hot come down your throat with his head thrown back.

Eagerly, you swallow it all, licking the head of his length to coax every last drop out of him. Before you get very far, Wooyoung pulls himself free, his cock slick with saliva. “Stand up,” he orders, a smirk playing on his lips. You scramble to your feet, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, and you can see his eyes roam over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re worked up,” Wooyoung hums, reaching up to cup your breasts with his large hands, thumbs ghosting over your nipples. “Look at you, so cute. All for me, aren’t they?” His tone is teasing as he pinches the flesh.

As he continues to toy with your tits, he snakes a hand down between your thighs, pressing against your underwear. “So wet too,” he notes approvingly, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to slide into your cunt easily. “You really are my eager wife, aren’t you?”

“Always, for you,” you gasp, hands reaching out to grasp his wrists. “Your wants are my wishes, please.” Your voice lilts into a whine, Wooyoung chuckling low in his throat at your desperate plea.

“That’s right, doll,” he agrees, his fingers pumping slowly in and out of you as his palm rubs circles on your sensitive clit. “You’ll give me everything I want, whenever I want it.”

The pressure applied to your clout becomes more insistent, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Come for me, babydoll,” he demands, although he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice anymore. “God, you’re squeezing me so good with that greedy cunt of yours.”

The mix of praise and degradation sends you over the edge of pleasure. Shivers wrack through your body as you grind against his hand. “Wooyoung–” you gasp, legs trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut, moans cutting through your breaths.

As you tremble and quake through your orgasm, Wooyoung’s grip on your hips tightens, holding you still as he works his hand in you to help you ride out each wave. “That’s it, let go for me,” he hums, his voice silky smooth. “Give it all to me, doll.”

You lean forward, tears dropping out of your closed eyes and onto his thighs, Wooyoung easing his fingers from your pussy, licking your release off of the digits. “You taste even sweeter when you’re mine,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming with possessiveness. He holds the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue pressing past your lips to claim every inch as his own.

Happily, you drop your mouth open to let him swallow every whimper and moan that tries to escape you as you chase his lips. Your core still aches but also craves more of him as your arms wrap around him.

Wooyoung breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with every breath as he gazes down at you with an intense passion. “I think it’s time we consummate this marriage,” he suggests, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as his hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

Before you can even react, he hoists you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to his bedroom. “We have a lot to discuss, my dear wife,” he hums, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a contrastingly gentle kiss to your cheek. “And I plan to thoroughly discuss every inch of your body.”

He pushes open the door and stalks towards the bed, his strides long and purposeful. Deftly, he drops you onto the soft bed, crawling over until he looms over you with a confident smirk.

Your eyes don’t leave him as you reach up to stroke his cheek gently, pulling him into a soft kiss. “I love you,” you can’t help but to say again, your gentle words lightening the hunger coursing through your veins.

At your whispered declaration, Wooyoung’s expression shifts, a flicker of something almost tender passing through his dark eyes as he captures your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam your body, mapping every dip and swell as if memorising you.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is heavy with emotion. “I know, YN. And I love you too. It might be in ways you don’t understand, but I do.” There’s sadness in his voice, an acknowledgement that his love is complex, and toxic. He leans down to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, teeth scraping at your delicate skin as he tries to take both your minds off of the seriousness. “Come on, let’s get comfortable. I want to show you exactly just how I love you.”

His hands slide up your dress, his calloused palms gliding over the expanse of your stomach as he lifts the garment over your head. You shiver as the cool air hits your body, goosebumps littering you.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the side of your breast, sending a shiver through your veins. With a fluid motion, he flips your positions, drawing you close to sit in his lap. His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down to grind against his hardening cock.

“Ride me, doll,” he commands, his eyes burning with desire. “Show me how much you want my touch.”

Carefully, you reach down and grasp his hard length, letting the head push into you slowly. A broken moan leaves your mouth as you sink down more and more.

Wooyoung grunts, his hands gripping your hips as you envelop his thick length, your cunt gripping him like a velvet vice. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, his hands digging into your flesh as he helps guide you down further, sheathing himself fully inside you.

For a long moment, he simply savours the sensation of being buried to the hilt in your warm folds. Then, with a sudden thrust, he rocks you against him, setting a brutal pace that has you bounding on his cock with a needy cry. “There we are, doll, take it all,” he groans, his lips pulling into a fierce grin. “You were made for me, wife. This cunt is just for me, right?”

You bite your lips, trying to quieten your moans as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you drop your head into the crook of his neck, pulling him even closer.

At your movements, Wooyoung chuckles, his hips snapping upwards in a relentless rhythm. “Such a good doll, taking all of me like this,” he hums, his voice low in his throat.

One hand slides up your back to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the slender column of your neck. He latches onto the tender skin, biting and sucking marks into your flesh as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. “You’re mine, doll,” he growls against your throat, his words punctuated by the lewd sounds of his hips meeting your ass. “Every inch of you belongs to me, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

“I’m yours,” you repeat dumbly, eyes rolling back in your head. “Wooyoung, please…”

Wooyoung’s grip on your hair tightens as he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you,” he prompts, his voice a seductive purr. He slows his thrusts slightly, allowing you to feel every inch of his thick cock as he grinds against you. “Or maybe you just need to come undone on my dick, screaming my name?”

His free hand trails down to tease your sensitive clit, circling the bud with maddening slowness. The stimulation is nearly too much to bear, your core coiling tighter and tighter until you sink your teeth into his neck. “Please, Wooyoung,” you whimper, unable to string together a coherent sentence. “I need– I need–”

With a wicked smile and a nip to your ear, Wooyoung pinches your clit firmly, sending waves of pleasure through your nerves. “You need what, sweetheart?” he taunts, his fingers still mercilessly tormenting your aching cunt.

He picks up the pace once more, driving into you with ruthless abandon. The room fills with the symphony of your ragged breathing, his groans, and the obscene sounds of him working his cock deeper into you.

You throw your head back as you reach the cusp of pleasure again, body tensing as your cunt squeezes in a vice around him. “Fuck– Wooyoung–” you cry out before your core snaps and you come, creaming around his cock as you whine and whimper.

Wooyoung’s control slips at the feel of your pussy clamping down on him. With a feral moan, he buries himself to the hilt and holds you down on his cock, the length of it pulsating as he fills you with enough come that it bubbles out of your conjoined bodies.

“Fuck, take it all,” he hisses, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out his climax. His fingers dig into your hips and thighs, marking you with crescent shapes as he buries his face in your hair.

As the waves of pleasure ebb, he collapses back onto the bed, dragging you down with him to nestle against his chest. His heart thunders against your ear as he strokes your hair soothingly, a rare display of tenderness from the usually dominant man.

“That’s it, doll,” Wooyoung continues to pet your hair softly, his breathing gradually evening out and his heart slowing to a lull. “Just relax now. Let me hold you, my wife.”

Despite the lingering ache between your thighs, his cock softening inside of you, you find yourself relaxing in his embrace, his warm body surrounding you. After a while, he tilts your chin up to capture your lips in a slow, languid kiss, his tongue sweeping across the seam of your mouth to taste the remnants of your passion. When he finally breaks away, his gaze is almost affectionate.

“Come on, doll, let’s get cleaned up,” he says, although there’s no real conviction behind his words.

You press your lips against his again, enjoying the soft domesticity of this. “Let’s stay like this for just a little longer, please,” you ask, voice tinged with timidness as if scared he’ll leave again.

Wooyoung’s expression turns thoughtful at your request, a small furrow appearing between his brows. For a long moment, he simply looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your emotions. Then, with a subtle nod, he enfolds you more securely in his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the world.

“Alright, doll,” he agrees quietly. “Just a little longer. We’ve got all night, after all.”

He presses another tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if savouring the simple intimacy of the gesture. In this moment, the ruthless kingpin seems to fade away, replaced by a man who craves connection, however fleeting or unconventional. Time seems to stand still as you both bask in the afterglow, the world outside your intimate bubble fading into insignificance. It’s a fleeting reprieve from the harsh realities of their lives, but one they cling to desperately, savouring the precious few moments of tranquility before the storm inevitably returns.

“Doll, come here.” You can hear Wooyoung’s voice from across the apartment, his tone low and commanding. It leaves no room for disagreement, so you quickly slip out of the bedroom where you were going over the financial reports of your club.

Wooyoung stands in the living room, arms crossed and face guarded. “It’s time for your punishment. Come with me.” You nod quickly, body tensing. It’s been weeks since you admitted your feelings, and Wooyoung had made no move to punish you for the disloyalty. Now, it seems he has finally decided on a fitting end.

Without waiting for a response, Wooyoung turns and strides out of the apartment, expecting you to follow closely behind. He leads you to a nondescript car, different from his usual automobile, the interior far more luxurious than the exterior would suggest.

He opens the passenger door for you, his expression still unreadable. “Get in,” he orders curtly, not offering any further explanation. You quickly follow suit, and Wooyoung walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and starting the trip.

The cityscape blurs in the windows, an uncomfortable silence settling uncomfortably over the car. After a few tense minutes, Wooyoung finally speaks, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. “Doll, whatever comes, I want you to know this isn’t a reflection of how I feel about you. This is a necessity for you to understand I can’t let anyone cross me.” He glances at you sideways.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s waiting for an answer, and you quickly nod. “Of course, Wooyoung, I understand.” Your voice sounds quiet and foreign even to yourself, but your words are true.

Wooyoung’s jaw clenches at your obedient response, a flicker of something akin to pride crossing his features. He reaches over to squeeze your thigh reassuringly, his touch firm yet gentle.

“You’re smart, doll. That’s why I chose you,” he hums, his voice taking on a tone of affection. “Now, just sit back and relax for now. We’ll be there soon.”

As promised, you arrive at your destination in a short while—a seedy, rundown warehouse on the outskirts of town. Wooyoung parks the car and exits, motioning for you to join him. He leads you through the dark halls to a room, akin to a dungeon. The heavy wooden door creaks shut behind you both, enveloping you in an atmosphere of dark anticipation.

Once inside, he produces a dark cloth, wrapping it around your wrists and binding them in front of you. You twitch, wanting to bat his hands away, but you hold back. When he finishes, he steps back, his piercing gaze raking over your form appraisingly. “I’ll strip you,” he orders, his voice devoid of emotion. “Then I want you on your knees when I return.”

Without waiting for a response, he quickly rips your dress off of you and exits the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. The cool air feels thick with tension, each second ticking by agonisingly slow as you hastily comply with his demands.

After what feels like hours, but is probably only ten minutes, the door swings open once more, and you register Wooyoung’s breathing before you even see him as he stands in the threshold. It takes you another moment to realise he’s got a heavy bag slung over his shoulder.

Before you can even question what’s in it, Wooyoung throws it to the ground in front of me, and the bag lets out a muffled grunt. You recoil as you realise there’s a human being in there. “Wooyoung–” you start to talk, but Wooyoung shakes his head and you snap your mouth shut.

“I don’t think dolls can speak, can they?”

As soon as you nod shallowly, Wooyoung reaches out and undoes the bag, pulling the person out roughly. It takes you a moment to register, but when you see it’s your old boss, Wooyoung’s rival, you can’t keep the sharp gasp from exiting your mouth. He’s got a black eye and a busted nose, but he’s awake, shifting uncomfortably.

“Say hello, doll,” Wooyoung hums, his voice light but dangerous. “Park here wants to apologise, right?”

He kicks his rival in the ribs, a glint in his eye that can be seen even in the darkness. You can see the figure of Beomjun scramble to his knees, a strong contrast to the terrifying leader you once knew. “I’m sorry,” he repeats what is a clear script, his voice tense and teeth gritted, “for using what wasn’t mine. Wooyoung’s property is not to be touched.”

You can hardly keep your eyes off the grovelling figure, so you don’t notice when Wooyoung approaches you until he presses a cool metal object in your hand. A gun lays in your hand, and your hands shift to hold it properly automatically. “Shoot him,” Wooyoung’s voice rings clear, his mock whisper meant to be heard by Beomjun.

“Wait, please, you said you wouldn’t–” Beomjun’s words dissolve into whimpers and sobs. You never thought you’d see such a strong leader in the black market appear so…pathetic. “I won’t bother you anymore, I’ll leave YN alone, please– let me live– I’ll give you all my assets–”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue. “Either way, I’ll get all of your offers, Park. Your incentives are nothing but dust.” He leans forward to brush his lips against your ear. “Shoot him, doll. Show me that you put all your trust in me, now. He is nothing to you.”

His hand moves to your waist, and the other one lifts your arm that’s holding the gun until it’s aimed at him. Although you hesitate just a moment, Wooyoung’s words wind around your mind like a snake, and your finger twitches on the trigger.

You don’t even register the sound of the gunshot as Beomjun’s next plea is caught in his throat and he collapses against the concrete, eyes open wide and blood pooling around his body. You can hardly think as Wooyoung presses a chaste kiss to your cheekbone, taking the gun out of your hands and shoving it in his waistband before leading you to a small sink in the corner of the room, where he wets a paper towel to clean the specks of blood that landed on you.

As he wipes gently, he leans in close, lips pressing against your temple. “Remember, doll, my patience has limits. Don’t ever test them again.” With that warning, he brings you to a different room, where it’s decorated simply with a bed and nothing else. “Come, sit on my lap,” Wooyoung commands, his voice strangely gentle.

Carefully, you follow his direction until you’re nested up against his chest. You can feel his boner through his slacks, curious as to where this is headed. Before you even have time to gasp, Wooyoung flips your skirt up and pushes aside your underwear before pressing his fingers into you.

He’s not gentle by any means, but the roughness only brings you pleasure as tears fill your eyes. You’re sure the wetness trickling down your cheeks only makes him hard, and you can feel it beneath you as well.

“Are you going to try to betray me again, wife?” Wooyoung asks, the pet name spoken without affection, although you know it’s hidden under the punishment you deserve.

You quickly shake your head, eyes wide. Killing someone still has you shaken up, but you’re in no mood to piss Wooyoung off ever again, and you want to enjoy the pleasure of his fingers. “No, Wooyoung, husband, I promise–”

Your quick response and lilt of a whine in your voice gives Wooyoung pause, his fingers slowing. “Good doll,” he croons, leaning in to give you a proper kiss, gentle and loving despite his rough treatment earlier. “You’re so pretty and perfect for me, let’s keep it that way.”

The gentle touch of his lips has you whining and twitching your hips, and you can feel the gun tucked away pressing against your thigh. The thought of it has you whining, and you must be easier to read than you think, your eyes flickering down to where it sits, because Wooyoung chuckles and reaches down to pull it out.

“Look at you, so dirty, wife,” Wooyoung preeens, pressing the barrel against your thigh and dragging it up until it’s hooked through the gifted necklace and pressing against your chin. “Begging for my cock, begging for my gun. Aren’t you a pretty picture for me? So pliable.”

You whine, nodding eagerly even as the gun knocks against your chin. “Please,” you gasp out, hips grinding against his hand even without his prompting.

Your begging only makes Wooyoung’s smile wider as he moves the gun until it’s pushing your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. “Did I tell you to speak, doll?” he grits out, hand stilling his movement. “Be a good doll and open your mouth for me.”

When your mouth drops open almost immediately, a delighted chuckle leaves Wooyoung’s throat at your eagerness. Without saying a word, he pushes the tip of the gun into your mouth, forcing you to taste the metallic tang of the barrel.

Your cunt leaks around Wooyoung’s fingers, your eyes glazing over as your mind drifts away and all you want to do is please. The gun doesn’t push too far past your teeth, not like Wooyoung’s cock would, and you lick and suck at it gently as you rock slowly against Wooyoung.

The amusement in Wooyoung’s eyes only increases as he reaches down to unfasten his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out. “Come on, baby, ride me,” he commands, pushing your hips up until his cock aligns with your cunt. “Show me how much you want to be used.”

With the gun still in your mouth, you drop down, his length spearing into you until you whine around the metal. Saliva drips out of your mouth and down your throat, pooling in your collarbones and slicking up your breasts. Your eyes roll back as you start a slow pace, bouncing up and down as best as you can.

Wooyoung’s hang grabs your hip tight enough to leave bruises, pushing you down to take him even deeper. The whine you let out is cut short as he slams his hips up into you, fucking you with wild abandon.

You can hardly feel anything except searing pleasure as he thrusts into you, the gun now resting in your mouth too far gone to continue sucking on it. But then Wooyoung leans in closer, nose brushing against your ear. “The safety’s off.”

It’s a lie, a bald-faced lie. You saw him lock it before sliding it into its holster. You know that it won’t shoot, the trigger wouldn’t even budge. And yet, the idea of it makes you groan around the barrel, cunt spasming as you come around Wooyoung’s cock, squeezing it so tight your core aches.

Wooyoung gasps at the feeling, pulling the gun out of your mouth and tossing it to the side as he pulls you closer into a bruising kiss, teeth scraping at your lips. “Fuck–” he moans into your mouth “–you fucking slut. You love having a gun in your mouth and a cock up your pussy? Maybe next time I’ll shove it up your cunt while I fuck your ass, such a perfect dumb whore.”

The kisses he litters on your lips betray his harsh words, and he comes with a groan, cock twitching as his hands grope your tits roughly. You’re limp, leaning against you as he uses you for his own pleasure. He grinds into as you pant against his collarbone, drawing a few more weak drops of come out of his cock.

As you lay against his chest, Wooyoung chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “You know,” he hums, “a punishment isn’t supposed to be so pleasurable for you. But I’ll let it slide this time.”

There’s no way you can register his words properly, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he lays you down and lets you regain your mind and energy. Your eyes flutter shut as he strokes your hair softly, his gaze transfixed on you, a mix of possessiveness and adoration flickering in his eyes. “Rest now, and we’ll talk later,” Wooyoung hums more to himself than anything else. For now, he’ll enjoy the calm of this moment.

The ride home is silent, the only sound is the hum of the engine and your ragged breathing as you try to grasp what just happened. You don’t know what to say or do, hands grasped together as you try to wrap your head around the events of today. After shooting Beomjun’s lackey, it never occurred to you that it might have to happen again, much less that it would be Beomjun himself. But something in you burns at the power you held over the gang leader.

Upon returning to the penthouse, Wooyoung ushers you inside, his demeanour softening slightly as he removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He glances over at you, noticing your conflicting expressions, and he sighs through his nose.

“Doll, you okay? It was intense, but you needed to understand the world I live in, through its entirety.” He pads over to you, closing the distance, reaching out to pry your fingers apart and weave his own through yours. “It’s late…let’s get some rest. I want to hold you.”

He’s trying to divert the topic, and you grasp at it, following him like a sheep led to slaughter, letting him gently change you into pyjamas. He even brushes your teeth, treating you like you’re fragile and may break at any moment. When he slides into bed, he pulls you alongside, wrapping his arms around you.

As you settle into the warmth of his embrace, you let out a sigh and your body finally relaxes and sinks into the mattress. Despite the tumultuous relationship he provides you with, his presence still gives you a sense of safety and security.

“Wooyoung…I love you,” you breathe out, turning to press your face into his neck.

He stiffens slightly at your words, his hold on you tightening almost imperceptibly. For a long moment, he remains silent, processing your words. He’ll never be truly used to hearing you say it out loud, his line of work stunting his emotions. But, it still gives him warmth.

In low tones, he responds, “You’d better, doll. You’re mine, body and soul.” Despite his gruff words, there’s a hint of vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the hardened kingpin. He strokes your hair soothingly, his other hand tracing gentle patterns on your hip. “Sleep now, doll. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

Despite the complexity of your relationship, you drift off easily, feeling a sense of belonging. For better or for worse, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. And one day, you’ll have him grovelling under you.

#snakesandplottwists #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez mafia au #ateez smut #wooyoung fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung smut #wooyoung mafia au

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crappycamille · 1 year ago

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a/n: gasp, i actually wrote something. be easy on me okay, i haven’t done this in a while. just some fluffy conjecture tbh, although there is one suggestive line but that’s why all my stuff is 18+, minors dni please… enjoy <3

Bakugou Katsuki had never experienced touch.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He had been touched before: punched and hit by those desperately trying to escape his pursuit, clung to by those fearing for their life, gentle yet encouraging pats on the back from friends, loving but annoying pinches of the ear from his mother. He’s even been pawed at and caressed by lust-filled women that satisfy temporary needs. And even more dangerously, he’s been fondled by the promise of love disguised as lust… But never had Bakugou been touched.

At least until you.

The first time you touched Bakugou is a memory he will never forget. He was bone tired having worked an incredibly grueling month-long mission.

Instead of going home to catch up on much-needed sleep, he immediately went to his office to get the paperwork done. Most people don’t know that a lot of things on the legal side can’t go through until his side of the paperwork is done. Bakugou constantly feels like he’s never fast enough. No matter how fast he can get to the victims. No matter how fast he catches the villain. No matter how fast he gets things done he wasn’t fast enough to prevent the victims from becoming victims in the first place. So, in his mind, the least he could do is get his paperwork done as fast as possible so that those involved can get their justice.

But, of course, the moment the mission is done—before he’s even had a chance to change out of his hero suit—he’s met with nothing but a mountain of news articles and tabloid headlines ridiculing his name. They find joy in villainizing him over the smallest of details.

Most of the time, Bakugou ignores those things. It doesn’t matter to him what others think. They can nitpick whatever they want because despite that he won. He saved the people who needed to be saved. To him, that was all that really mattered… usually.

It must have been his level of exhaustion, but he couldn’t help the way his brows furrowed in disappointment reading the headlines. The words for the public sitting heavier on his chest than normal. His emotions got to him more than normal as he walked down the hallway from his official, finally heading home.

It was late.

Far too late for anyone else to still be there. Yet, he swore he could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels clicking against the floor. As he turned the corner he was met with the sight of you packing up. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he watched with confusion as scurried around filing documents, turning off computers, and locking doors.

“The hell? Why’re you still here?” He internally cringed as his voice boomed more than he meant it to since you nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing him.

“Oh Dynamight, Sir! I apologize I meant to be out of here before you noticed I was here.” Exhaustion seeped through your voice, giving you more rasp than normal.

“That’s not what I asked you. The hell’re you still here for?”

“Well…” you scratched your head feeling a bit shy, debating on whether or not to tell him the real reason why you were there. “I stayed to make sure all of the paperwork you submitted just now went through. As head of your legal team, it’s my job to make sure things on the agency’s side are squared away. I understand you like to get things done immediately after a mission, Sir.”

Bakugou was speechless. So many questions riddle through his head he wanted to ask. Had you done this after every mission and he never noticed you? yes When had you noticed that he came in after missions to do paperwork? Why did you care? Instead, he watched wordlessly as you gathered your things.

“You don’t need to do that.” He finally spoke. His tone was unusually soft, nearing sweet if you squinted hard enough. You breathily chuckled. You had been working for Bakugou long enough to know that was his way of saying thank you.

“It’s really no problem, Sir. No reason you have to be the only person in the office so late, especially after working such long missions.” You softly smiled at him. With you being so close, he could see the exhaustion prominent in your own face.

The two of you worked your way out of the building together in silence. Bakugou felt that he had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but they all muddled to the back of his mind.

It was only when you guys reached the front lobby exit that he became aware of the incessant buzzing of his phone. Countless mentions, tags, reposts, and message requests were flooding in from every social media app. He could’ve sworn he turned his notifications off a long time ago, but there they were. Those same articles that called him a corrupt hero, a heinous/reckless man, and nitpicked things down to the way he breathed were being sent to him over and over again. A constant reminder that so many people disapprove of him.

He hadn’t noticed how tightly he had been gripping his phone. How clenched his bicep was until he felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. Your hand was small in comparison to his but its presence was overwhelming.

Your thumb subtly rubbed soothing circles on his clenched bicep. “If it’s worth anything, I think you’re incredibly kindhearted. The world is lucky to have a hero like you protecting it. Goodnight, Sir. Get some rest.”

Bakugou thought he was going to melt the second you pulled your hand away. Your words rang loud in his ears, but his skin buzzed even louder at the lingering effects of your touch. He had to stop himself from sobbing in the lobby that night.

There was something oh so special about your touch.

From the first time you ever touched him to the way, you touch him now as his wife. He swears he has to stop himself from sobbing every time. It’s the overwhelming love that pours out of you every time your skin connects with his.

He was so incredibly touch-starved before you came along. Starved from the kind of touch that doesn’t come from platonic relationships. Starved from the touch of someone that didn’t expect to gain something from him in return. Starved from the intimate touch of true love.

He revels in every little touch you grace him with. The way you hold his hand under the dinner table. The way you pinch him lovingly, reminding him of his mother, when he says something out of pocket.The way you squeeze his thigh and rub soothing circles on him when tensions get high in a meeting. The way you nestle your face in his back as he cooks. The way you lightly slap his shoulder as you laugh hysterically. The way you drag your hands along his sides as he lays on you. The way you claw at him desperate to somehow bring him impossibly closer as he thrusts into you.

In all honesty, he still has a hard time fathoming that you are his. That you are in love with him. That you choose to be with him every day. He feels undeserving, but you always definitively object. He believes that you are so much more than anything he could ever be, but that’s exactly how you feel about him.

Your touch is just one of the things he obsesses over you. Because he is just so incredibly in love with you.

#would you believe that my love language actually isn’t physical touch BHAHA #bakugou thoughts #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou comfort #my beloved #crappy writing

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cosmicdahlias · 4 months ago

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Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You’re so tired and overworked from trying to prevent Weirdmageddon. Ford proposes some much needed stress relief.

warnings: rough sex, choking, slapping

okay so full disclosure the title is ripped from a seether song, i’ve been rediscovering the music i listened to as a teen and i was immediately inspired.

You sat hunched over your desk, going over the journals. You were reviewing every possible way to prevent and stop Bill. You hadn’t properly slept in days, working yourself to the point of exhaustion until your body gave out and forced you to sleep. You stared at the rift, how could such a small thing be such a looming threat?

Ford descended the stairs with a fistful of unicorn hair, seems like Mabel’s quest was successful.

“Afternoon, y/n, how are things goi-“ He stopped, a look of concern spread across his face. “Oh honey, you look so exhausted.”

He came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. “You need a break, burning the candle at both ends won’t do you any good.”

Your brow furrowed. “Ford, how can you say that? The whole world, no the universe is at stake.”

He turned your chair to face him. “And what good are you to the universe if you’re too exhausted to even keep your head up?” He said taking your cheek in his hand.

You leaned into his touch, covering his hand with yours for a second before the grave reality at hand set back in, you shook your head.

“Ford, I- we don’t have time for this. What if Bill-“

He kissed you hard. “Forget about Bill for just this moment, focus on me, only me. Listen, you’ve been so overworked and stressed out. I can sense it immediately from across the room. And I think I have a solution. Use me, let out all of that pent up emotion out on me. I know you need this”

“Ford, seriously, I can’t. I really need to go over the journals.”

He took your hands in his. “Stardust, I love you, but I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

You blushed. “Ford, no, what if I-“

“Hurt me? Baby, there’s not a thing you could do to hurt me.” He chuckled.

You weighed the pros and cons. No, you couldn’t. Preventing Weirdmageddon was your top priority. You refused to let yourself be distracted, not even for a second.

“I’m sorry, but really I need to get back to work, you should too.”

You turned around, returning to the task at hand.

He cocked and eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What? Are you scared?”

You buried your face into the pages, electing to ignore him.

Ford let out a huff. “Fucking say something, come on!”

You put up a hand, a clear signal that you were too busy for this.

“Don’t be such a cunt.” He said, knowing full well how much you hated being called that, but it worked. You turned around in your chair, holy fucking shit you wanted to tear him apart.

“Excuse me?”

He could see that he got to you. “Ohhhohoho, you don’t like that, do you? What are you gonna do? Are you just gonna stand there and take it?”

You stood up, knocking your chair to the floor. You seized the collar of his trench coat, pulling him into a furious kiss. You felt him smirk against your lips, he had won.

You broke away, grabbing his wrist and basically dragging him up the stairs, leading him down the hallway to his room. You passed by Stan, who laughed his ass off when he saw your face.

“Oh geez, what’d ya do this time, sixer?”

“Shut it.” You seethed through gritted teeth.

“Whoa, touchy. Guess you’re in for it now.” He said, patting Ford on the back.

You slammed the door behind you, pouncing on Ford. You practically ripped his clothes off and they scattered to the floor. You shoved him onto the bed and you began removing your clothes. You looked down at him, still seeing red.

He wanted you to hate fuck him? Fine, you were going to rock his shit so hard that he wouldn’t be able to see straight for months. You sat next to him on the bed and spat in his face, his cock twitched wildly.

“I like this side of you. I should call you a cunt more often.”

That did it. You reeled a hand back, slapping him in the face. It barely registered.

“You call that a slap?”

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, you yelped.

“THAT’S a slap.” He growled.

You reeled your hand back for a second time and struck him hard on the face. His head snapped to the side, he blinked a few times, vision blurry.

You gave him a second to recover before moving to straddle his face.

“Are you gonna sit on my face? Do it, fucking smother me.” He growled.

You sank yourself down on him and he took your clit in his mouth.

“That’s it, grind on me.”

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, trying to pull you as close as he could, eating you out like it was his last meal. You bucked your hips as he lapped at you. He loved this, he loved having his mouth on you, the way you bucked your hips against his tongue. He could spend all day between your thighs if you’d let him.

Your breathing became shallow, you were close. Ford took notice, quickening the pace of his tongue.

“That’s it, cum on tongue, cum on my fucking tongue.”

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, grinding yourself desperately on him, feeling yourself cum on his face. You threw your head back in ecstasy, moaning loudly. He tightened his grip on your thighs, trying to coax a second orgasm out of you. You rocked your hips as you came again.

You slid yourself off his face, sitting on his hips, his cock pressed against your ass. You looked down to see his stubbled chin covered in your cum, god he looked so hot like that. You leaned down and kissed him sloppily, licking yourself off him. You reached your hands down and pinched his nipples, tugging them hard. He moaned loudly and his cock throbbed on your ass.

You hovered yourself over his length and sank yourself down onto him. He reached his hands up to grip your waist and started to buck his hips into you. You seized his wrists and pinned them above his head, you weren’t going to let him have control, not this time.

“I knew if I pissed you off enough that you’d get like this, you’re such a slut, riding my cock like this. You- mmf.”

You covered his mouth with your hand. He seized your wrist and pulled it off of him.

“What’d you think that was gonna do? You wanna shut me up? Make me. How’re you gonna do it, huh? How’re you gonna do it?”

You slapped him hard across the face.

“Oh yeah? You think slapping me is gonna work? Because I’m still talking.”

You pulled yourself off of him and he whined at the loss of your pussy around his cock. You picked his belt up off the floor, returned yourself on top of him, sliding him back inside you and slipped the belt around his throat.

“Are you gonna choke me? Do it, fucking asphyxiate me.” He growled.

You pulled the belt, it dug into his neck. He managed to choke out a moan.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” You taunted.

He nodded submissively. It wasn’t often that he showed you this side of him, opting to be the dominant one, but god you loved having him under you. You pulled down the belt, temporarily loosening your grip. You leaned down and bit hard on his neck, he whimpered loudly.

“God I love when you hurt me like that, stardust.”

You tightened the belt again, his cock twitched wildly inside you.

He tried to speak, but with the belt the words were unintelligible, you released your grip again.

“Can I cum in you?”

“Grammar, Ford.” You teased.

He chuckled. “May I cum in you?”

“Good boy, that’s better.”

You picked up your pace, giving him the ride of his life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, dear god you feel incredible.” He said, breathing ragged.

His moans were deafening as he came inside you, filling you with his cum.

He laid his head back on the pillow panting, words failing him. All he could do was look at you, god you were so beautiful.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. “Feel better?”

“Regrettably, yes.”

“See? I told you that you needed this. Next time don’t be such a cunt.” He teased.

You slapped him lightly.

“That was very much deserved.” He chuckled.

You pulled yourself off of him, removing the belt from his neck. Ford laid on his side pulling you into a spoon, sighing deeply. You laid with him for a moment before the anxiety over Weirdmageddon returned.

You moved to get up. “Okay I really need to get back to researchi-“

Ford pulled you back against him. “I know, I know, but just stay with me for a while, please.”

You huffed, but knew this is what you needed. You began to feel drowsy, you tried to fight it, but felt sleep overtake you.

When you awoke an hour later you both got dressed and went to make your way back downstairs, passing by Stan again. He smirked.

“Heh heh, sorted things out did ya?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Stanley. I can always count on you to be mature.”

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #ford pines fanfic #gravity falls #my fics

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shidouryusm · 1 year ago

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One new notification from Reddit

・❥・Toji x f!reader

・❥・content -> nsfw, minors dni, sugar daddy-sugar baby dynamic, ceo!Toji, explicit smut, lore and lore, manipulation kinda, roleplay, kinda voice kink if you squint, spanking, blowjob, cunnilingu$, t!tplay, p -> v penetration, m@ting press, kinda mirror sex(?) , a liddol plot around megumi, creampie, lmk what I missed

・❥・word count -> 5.5k (mwuah mwuah)

・❥・a.n: here’s my first take on @k9nto ‘s reddit collaboration (Tal baby Im so sorry it took like half our lifespan to submit lol). Entries are open, participate! and find the masterlist here . It took so long than I expected it to be sobs. I got into a massive toji brainrot and just poured every rotting thought in my brain in this. dividers by @/cafekitsune . Hope y'all like it

“Weren’t you supposed to be in Sweden today for a business meeting or something?” Megumi’s drawling voice was what broke the layer of silence on the breakfast table. Toji peeks from the shield of newspaper, eyebrows raised in a gesture of mulling over the question before he spoke out.

“Ahh yes. I cancelled the flight.”, his tone nonchalant as if he was explaining why he skipped breakfast. The words, simple as they might sound, held a sense of power and unbending authority as if mere words of his are capable of turning the tide. Which is true considering most businesses in vicinity are under the palm of his hand ;therefore, cancelling such meeting, losing few million yens of deal here and there isn’t gonna bother him in the slightest.

The board is majorly his and what he says goes around that circular mahogany table. Besides, staying at home today was more of his priority than listening to some mind numbing presentation of a business which earns meagre profit to live by.

No, he had something important on his mind.

“Are you sure? Last time I heard, this meeting seemed important for the merger or something”, Megumi’s inquisitive voice once again drew Toji’s attention. His dark teal eyes twinkles with amusement at his son’s newfound curiosity.

“Showing interest in business, Megumi? How about you go instead of me, what say?” His teasing, booming voice flustering Megumi as he ignored the comment, suddenly being ten times more interested in his breakfast.

“You usually don’t cancel meetings like these, that’s why.” he mumbles, earning a gruff laughter and a pat on the back from his father.

“The managing director can handle it well enough. Besides, I get to sit with you for breakfast after so long. I’d say it’s much better than some boring meeting, isn’t it?” Megumi nods, a tight smile on his lips at the silky warmth of his Toji’s voice.

Toji folded the newspaper, setting it aside and concentrating on the breakfast table for the first time ever since he sat down. Tsumiki’s chair is empty, indicating she already left for her work. Megumi stalls his breakfast, seemingly waiting for something. He fiddles the spoon around the soup bowl, silent engulfing them once again before a ping of his phone reverberates through the dining hall.Toji flickers his eyes at his son, who answered his phone quite eagerly, but no sooner than that, his face was crestfallen.

“Anything on mind, Megumi?” his voice is soft yet carrying. Megumi shakes his head quickly, denying any disturbance that ever flashed across his face.

“Nothing…’m off to college. See you later.” his voice ebbs away even before he finishes his sentence as he steps out of the house in one go, leaving the older man in his extravagant dining all by himself.

Megumi has always been a little inside his shell, not wearing emotions on his sleeve so such behaviour wasn’t new for Toji. However, seeing that flicker of sadness in his eyes sparked curiousity in the elder Fushiguro’s mind and he almost guesses what piqued that reaction off him. Toji finishes up the leftover tea before a sharp shrill of the doorbell rang through the house as the househelp scutters toward the door to open it.

Moments later, Toji’s eyes catches the sight of a girl, around Megumi’s age, wandering around the vast space in living room right across. A face anyone would call exceedingly gorgeous and beautiful eyes which are zooming, scanning for something or someone, a thin line peaking between her brows. She is gorgeous, not to mention the way Toji’s eyes wandered all over her figure, one of the very few instances in his life where a woman captivated his attention for longer than a minute. Toji prods closer towards the girl, who still hasn’t noticed his presence; or rather is pretending not to.

The woman being Megumi’s one and only bestfriend throughout his sad 21 years of life – you.

Meanwhile, your eyes drank the expanse of the house. High ceilings connected with neutral coloured walls gave an aura of extravagance yet not too flashy. The grandeur of it catching you off guard. Your heart leaps with faith and hope.

“May I help you?” a deep cough followed by this question startles you as you turn around. Your eyes level with a broad expanse of chest before you trail them upwards, a small scar slashing the lip coming into view before finally meeting the set of dark, emerald teal eyes.

“Ummm…is Megumi at home?”, your voice is laced with timidness which intrigues as well as entertains Toji. He steps closer, invading your space, your eyes widen at his closeness but you stay silent.

“No, he left just now. You might be?” If voices could be measured in depth, this would surpass Mariana Trench. It seeps down the skin, melting with every fiber of your being, the resonance of his voice almost soothing your body, reaching into parts where it shouldn’t.

You give out your introduction, voice shaky from the arm’s distance Toji is at. He hums at your reply, “Well Megumi left not so long ago, if you want I can give him a call and–”.

“WAIT! NO.”, your cried out, not noticing you grabbed Toji’s forearm on the pretext. “I…I actually hoped he’d be out. I wanted to talk to you.” you mumble, voice not rising over few decibels, stark contrast to his abysmal apmplitude. Toji quirks an eyebrow, not pointing that you are still holding on to his arm. Tight.

“And what that might be, sweets?” you squirm a little at the petname. A little apprehensive on how to address the situation, “Actually…”

You attempt to cower yourself by rubbing your arm with your left hand. Toji notices the tension that is radiating off you, your eyes darting everywhere but on him, your legs are pressed against each other, covered with a pleated skirt barely covering till your mid-thighs. You lick your lips a few times, an action that sets Toji’s mind into a drive of inappropriate train of thoughts. You look so diffident, like a turtle without its shell desperately finding a shelter to mask itself. And he’d be happy to provide you that.

He wanted to pause you there, catch your lips in between his slightly chapped ones. Hands that itched to roam and explore around your body, surely that baggy hoodie is hiding an exquisite piece of art underneath.

Yet, he stops himself from swaying out of conversation, listening to your pleas of despair.

“Y’know, college fees are due by this month…and it’s pretty expensive too. I-I thought I'd apply for some financial scholarship but it got rejected.” you mumble. Toji has an inkling of what your issue might be and solving it with a snap of his finger wouldn’t be of any issue. But the devil on his left was at its peak, enveloping Toji’s mind with an idea that could only be called sinister.

“I-I really tried to apply again but I keep getting rejected. Plus there’s my house rent and a debt I took-” your voice was breaking off in the middle, trying hard to suppress the sobs that threatened to spill out. Toji understood your dilemma.

“If you could grant me any well paying job, I’d take it. No matter how hard it might be. Just please, anything works. I will be homeless otherwise. I could even work here as a househelp. Megumi wouldn’t know, I’d come when he got classes-” you were rambling, desperation dripping out of syllables.

Toji felt a little pinch in his heart. You were in dire need of money. He could help if he wanted, any intern job would put your issues at ease but having a girl as pretty as you slave around anywhere, under anyone (but him) was blasphemous for him. You look like you were meant to be taken care of, to be spoiled with the riches there is. Your trembling lips needed love and it looked nothing less than an enticing invite for the older man. Your tears and soft sniffles shot a wave of arousal directly down his cock.

Fuck. who looks this hot while crying.

Toji is an influential man. His sense of leadership and commands in a rich baritone forced anyone to comply with no rebuttal. His shrewd mind knew all sorts of cards in a dirty business and his ability to play them and naturally bring the ball in his court made him what he is today. And like the cunning businessman he is, Toji knew when to make the best of the situation. Just like now.

“Well, you say you could work any job but any high paying job requires expertise. Are you sure you can cope with the little experience of a retail store you have? I can only appoint you somewhere but who says you wouldn’t be fired within the first week”, your eyes flew open in panic, heart dropping like free fall. Facing rejection at his hands was like the last nail on the coffin.

“n-no no no, please, please! I promise I won’t. I told you even helping around your house would do. Surely it will suffice.” Toji could only laugh. Oh how naive you are, readily walking towards the trap Toji is discretely luring you in.

Toji contemplates with closed eyes for a while. A deep hum leaving his throat as if he’s actually pondering over how to help you. He opens his eyes. A layer of darkness now shrouding his orbs. His face scrunches into a smirk as he leans in even more close.

“Come to my room. There might be something of your interest.” your face lightens with hope. Fuck. Anything will interest you as long as you can pay your bills and repay that loan. You follow suit, mindlessly getting yourself into the fox’s burrow.

Toji’s bedroom is vast. Long white curtains frame the window, sunlight dancing through them, giving the room a warm golden hue. A massive bed is placed in the middle, opposite to a wall length mirror, reflecting both you and Toji. You notice how small you look compared to his muscled back donned in just a cashmere grandma sweater. Still, he looks ridiculously handsome and enticing.

You swallow a gulp, his presence is as alluring as he is, taking up every air in the room, leaving you breathing heavily for the lack of it.

Your sea of thoughts are so deep that you don’t notice how Toji is just inches away from you now, his hands rest on your shoulders, jolting you back to the reality of your predicament. You glance at him, his eyes are were blazed with a newfound passion.

“You know that you are extremely beautiful? Probably one of the hottest women I’ve seen so far.” his voice is low, a whisper that swirls around your ear.

You feel goosebumps flesh out all over your neck. His hands on your shoulder still firm, thumb rubbing over the junction of skin where your clavicle ends. The pads of his thumb is calloused yet glides smoothly across your skin.

“Sir?” you tilt your head, not understanding where he is going. He doesn’t reply, rather dips down his head, bringing his face closer to you, directly underneath your ears. Meanwhile, his hands trail back, the tips of his finger ticking the skin of your back until it rests over your tailbone. He pulls you closer, flush against him. You squeak out of surprise yet don’t act against it.

“A pretty girl like you slaving away? Tsk tsk tsk”, he teases, “lemme take care of you the way you need, princess.” his murmurs were salacious. words dipped in a pot of sins.

“B-but-”

“Sshh..” Toji presses a feathered kiss over your jaw. A small whimper escapes your lips as you felt his lips gloss over your skin. He is so close, you can see every detail of the side of his skin. The hint of his cologne tickling your nose. The scent is subtle, not noticeable until he came this close. It’s woody – with a hint of burnt caramel and notes of amber and spice blends in with it perfectly. The perfume complements him like perfection, as if the flavours were hand-picked and specially concocted for him. Toji continues pressing light kisses over your jaw, till he reaches upwards, hovering beside your right ear.

“You know, I can and I will pay your full tuition fees till the end of your graduation as well as repay whatever that stupid loan was” his sudden offer dropped you off a height, a choked out gasp leaves your lips and Toji couldn’t conceal his amusement. His hand coming up to your cheek, cupping it gently.

“Wha-, sir? What’s going on?” you were falling short on words. Hearing his offer, you think he might be some sort of guardian angel, offering to banish every financial barriers you had in your life. Who does that?

Toji laughs under his breath, one of his hand cups your cheek while the other snakes down your waist. “But…” he trails off.

“But?”

“Don’t I deserve something in return as well? See, I am only just a man. A man with riches way bigger than I expected myself to have. I provide my kids with all the comfort they need but a man like me also needs some loving, what say?” Toji nips at your earlobe, wanting some sort of response from you. you nod.

He’s right. Toji has always been somewhat of a star in your eyes, as heard from Megumi. He had taken up the role of a father as well as a professional businessman with effortless ease ever since the demise of toji’s mom when Megumi merely joined middle-school. Such multitask would sure wear anyone out and considering this man never involved himself in relationships or such. He also must crave love, some desires, some unfulfilled wants.

“So…I propose you a transaction of being my whatever that term is – sugar baby or something. Main thing is, I’ll give you whatever you want or need anytime and in return, you provide me of my desires.”

To say you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. Having a sugar daddy who pays for every worldly desires there is was almost like a fairytale to you. Never in your wildest dreams you thought such an incident would ever occur in your life. Such a transaction that woud not only free you from your debt shackles but also indulge you in every brands you’ve only seen from the other side of the glass. Every set of clothing that a mannequin dons on can now be fitted in your body.

“There’s win for you too, princess. You’ll get to know how a real man treats a woman. Especially a woman like you deserves it just as much as I. Do you agree?” Toji cajoles you silkily. His honeyed words fucking with the second voice in your head. Your heart melts at his compliments, almost coaxing yourself into the offer.

But, it comes with a price of your body, of your chastity. Then again, a man like Toji, with hands such burly and veiny. Back toned with muscles that are even prominent with loose clothing, such confident aura and sweet words, could only have a gifted member down below, right?.

A man you could only imagine participating in the lecherous acts with you. But would you let yourself participate? Did you have it in you?

Fate plays different. Fate plays dirty because here you are, on your knees, engulfing the entirety of his cock down your throat. Morales flying right across his large window.

Toji watches you from the mirror, sitting on the edge of his bed. Your head bobs up and down asyou smear spit all over his shaft. Your lips wraps around his cock while your brows furrow together as you concentrate on relaxing your muscles to fit more of him. The curve of his vein hits your tongue and you let out a gargled sound, almost relishing the taste.

Toji is well blessed down there, with equal measures of girth and length, ending with a fat mushroom tip. The tip which occasionally imprints on your throat while you deepthroat him. A gag leaves your mouth as you feel his cock drives past your uvula.

Your skirt is hiked up from behind and Toji notices the peek of red underneath. His hands were stretched behind his back, to buck his hips up towards your face. They now go down towards your skirt, flipping it upright to expose the flesh of your ass in the mirror. The rounded mound was laced with a red thong that barely ran across the crack, hiding the pretty pussy underneath it.

“F-fuck…baby your mouth feels like heaven on my dick. You suck like a slut.” Toji groans, burying himself deeper into you as he feels you move faster on his length.

Hands pawed his balls, which were heavy with his load. You release his cock with a pop, a string of spit connecting you with his tip, oozing out pre-cum.

You gather a glob of spit on your mouth before dropping it right across his shaft. Your hands work along his length as you pump ferociously. Switching your roles, your mouth takes over his balls, giving each of them a long suck, tongue flicking out to kitten lick across the skin. You hear Toji hiss, his hands finds your hair, grabbing a handful of your locks in his palm.

“You were sent for me, angel. Look at your mouth and hand fitting my cock so well. God, I wanna dump my load inside your mouth.” the room was filled with the occasional gags and moans while you generously sucked from his tip to base. Nose tickling with the little tufts of pubes when you bottom out. Hands that never stopped to either stroke his length or fondle his balls.

Toji could feel himself busting anytime, hips raised more against your face, his hands grab both the sides your face, taking charge. He thrusts inside your face with a pace that was animalistic. His own eyes rolls at the scrape of your teeth, the sensation doubling up his orgasm that was already rushing. Tears pooled at your waterline but the sensation of his dick imprinted on your mouth was heavenly. Your panties were drenched around your slit as you try to rub your heels against your cunt for some added friction. You look up at him, sweater raised over his chest to expose the skin of the stomach, taut with the tension.

With one final thrust, he shoots his warm load inside your mouth, spilling inside your cavern with ropes of milk. Your lips and chin is painted white while some shoots right down your throat as you feel the taste of his cum – salty with a bitter aftertaste. But it wasn’t unpleasant, rather there was a pleasurable sensation. Something raw and unforbidden but still so rousing.

Toji releases your head. His hands dips down under your sticky chin, thumb tracing your lower lip as he pulls it down, urging you to open your mouth. You do as instructed, showing him the lewd view of your cum filled mouth before he orders you to swallow, which once again you do wordlessly. Toji hikes you up from your seating position, hands resting on your ass while he kneads your flesh. He turns your around, with you facing the bed. He pushes you against the pillowy mattress. You fall face first, head hitting the cloudy pillows. You feel Toji behind you, not doing anything but staring at your lace clad ass that was bared open.

Soon, you feel his textured palm on your ass and before you know it, his hand leaves and connects against you again, followed by a resounding smack filling the air mixed with your loud squeak.

“Ahh..mr.fushigu-” . another smack. You fall silent as the impact of his hand hits you again. But why was this so titilating? Why, with each of his smack, you could feel more arousal drooling out of your pussy lips?

“It’s daddy for you, princess.” He rubs the area where he just spanked you earlier, massaging the skin for some comfort. His hands work slow, tantalising, that makes you whine. Like a game of push and pull. He pushes away while you pull for him.His hands reach your thin panties, tracing over the fabric and reaching towards your pussy lips. His hands carress you through the fabric, two fingers dips down on each side while his middle finger prods in your slit, right over the damp lace.

His hands fit perfectly against your hips as he grabs your sides, harshly hiking your ass up in the air, back arched in the most posture ever. The position causes your hoodie to slip up, showing the same shade of bra. It didn’t take him more than two second to snap open the hook, baring the entirety of your back and causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. Your lower back dimples greet him and he couldn’t help but place kisses all over your lower back, gradually gliding down. He removes the skirt that obstructed his ministrations in one go, finally facing your pussy from behind. His warm breath falls over your inner thigh as you feel his finger hook around the thin cloth, putting it in a side to face your clenching cunt.

Toji nuzzles his face against your cunt, his nose hitting right against your clit as he once again blows breath, this time right over your aching slit. You let out a moan, feeling him slowly place kisses all over from the gaping hole to your hood, smothering his face with your juices.

You head tips back from the numbing sensation of his mouth on you. His tongue laps up every drop of arousal that seeps out of you, and diving inside your cunt, thrusting in your gummy walls. His hands continues to massage the globes of your ass mixed with soft smack over the mounds.

Your whines were bouncing off the walls, the euphoric feeling of his tongue was keeping you afloat. You try your best to not cross your eyes from the overwhelming actions. Toji also ensures to give equal attention to your clit, the buttoned nub swollen and aching for some release. He wraps his lips around the hood, his tongue circling around the bundle of nerve endings, releasing a hundred sparks inside your body. You moan wantonly, teeth digging inside your lips to leave it red. Your hands grip the sheets like death, grounding yourself.

Toji keeps on flicking his tongue over the clit, adding the work of his middle finger to dive right into your pussy. The dance of his tongue, lips and fingers create the perfect dance of debauchery. The sensation being too much for you as you try to scutter away before the harsh tug of his hands brings you closer. His mouth not leaving your cunt.

“Don’t run, princess. You signed up for this.” words ending with a smirk right against your skin, he releases your clit before getting at your inner thighs. He nips at the flesh, sucking the skin for a while before a dark purple splotch brands itself on your skin.

You whimper in pain and pleasure as you hear his gravelly voice, vibrating right against your skin. “This is for trying to run away, princess. Don’t do it, ‘kay?”

You knew you were close, his fingers were relentlessly pumping inside you, bringing more and more closer to the edge. His mouth was doing wonders all over the thighs and along the flesh of your cunt, replacing his fingers once in a while to prod his tongue against your squishy walls. His pace was chronic, increasing with every passing moment, and before you knew it, the tug on your stomach snapped and your whole body shook to release the built up orgasm that Toji artistically brought to action.

Your juices sprayed in his mouth while Toji shamelessly laps at it, his tongue working you through your orgasm, bordering overstimulation. His other hand smoothes your thighs from the shaking. Your head dips down to hide yourself from the embarrassment but Toji couldn’t give a damn. To him, you were never any more beautiful than now, all spent under him. For him. By him.

Toji flips you on your back, your tongue lolls out when you breathe heavily, bringing yourself back to this Earth which you were sure you left momentarily. Toji leans down to capture your lips between his, feeling both his and your taste on his tongue. His hands comes to massage every crevice of your waist and hips. He tugs at your hoodie, breaking the kiss for a while to remove this material off of you.

Your already opened bra follows suit, leaving your breasts to spill out in front of the man, who feels his cock stirring. His head dips down to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking the bud harshly while his other hand plays with the other breast, fondling the mass and tugging the nipple between his thick fingers. Slapping the fleshy mound to watch it jiggle. Making his exposed cock twitch. He alternates his treatment on other tit, leaving the nipples to form hard, swollen buds.

“Some pretty pair you got, darling.” Toji smothers his spit all over your breasts, leaving it glistening under the golden light of the day that veils his room. His hardened length grinds against your cunt, the tip smacking your clit at times.

“D-daddy…put…put it in.please.” you whine, yearning for something to fill up your walls again. Toji smirks, hooking his hand under the band of your underwear before he tugs it out of your hips. The bunched up fabric curled in his hand as he shamelessly gawks at them.

“These are some expensive lingerie, princess. This is where you blew money off? Being a little slut?” Toji bunches the panties before stuffing them in his pant pockets. You turn your head to the side, from sheer embarrassment. A scene of beautiful vulgarity unfolds itself in front of you.

Toji separates your legs by your knees, your slick covered pussy clenching at the sudden wave of air that brushes past them. Toji’s cock jumps at the sight, his thick length sliding against your lips, drenching itself with pre-cum and remnants of your previous orgasm. He nudges the tip into your slit, slowly pushing the head inside.

You throws your head back against the sheet as you moan, the intrusion of his head alone stuffing your cunt. You clench around him, hips subconsciously bucking to add the extra pressure.

Toji hisses at you squeezing him, bullying more of his girth into your walls. He has half the wish to ram the whole cock in you, till the tip bruises your cervix but he goes steady, closing his eyes and moving painfully slow to stretch the time. He grabs you by the under of your knees, propping both legs on each of his arms to get more leverage as he pushes inside. Bottoming out to the hilt.

Once he feels himself completely sheathed inside you, he opens his eyes, meeting your already fucked face, his mouth hangs open while your left arm drapes over your eyes, head tipping back to expose the dainty collarbone, he bends down to press kisses over the clavicle just as his cock nudges more inside of you, making you whine.

“You sucked me in right like a champ, princess. Too eager for this cock. Well, can’t deny the feeling of this pretty pussy either. Making me bust a nut right now.” Toji groans, talking you through it while he begins to rock himself against you, pulling out completely till the tip before fucking inside of you with one thrust.

His thrusts were slow and powerful, making your body jerk from top to bottom. Your tits lurched and bounced from the intensity and Toji wanted to burn this image in his mind. He increases his pace, letting you feel the veiny shaft of his cock all over your cushiony walls. He adjust himself in the middle, angling the tip in a way which made you drawl a precarious moan. His cockhead settles right against a bundle of muscle sending sparks of shockwave to your brain before it moves away again. Only to assault there again.

“you feel so good inside me….ahhh…” moans fills the air along with the lewd slick sounds of skin slapping against each other. You could feel his balls hitting your ass as he bends you in half, knees squashed against your tits to get a better look at his cock slipping right inside you. Your arm splays over your head, eyes squeezed shut just as you feel the familiar tug building up inside your stomach. Is he gonna make you squirt again?

Toji sloppily thrusts in you, your insides clenching down on his dick causing his orgasm to roll down as well. His thrusts are erratic, constantly hitting on that sweet spot inside. You mewl loudly, craving and craving for more. Your body turning limp under the burly weight of his as he turns your brain into a puddle of mush with his long strokes.

“Wanna cum, daddy…hnnghh.” Toji goes at an animalistic pace, wanting to make you squirt again, “whatever angel says”, he husks. You feel your insides almost bruise, firstly for how thick he is already and secondly, from the power at which he slams himself inside you. His tip brushing your cervix at the position he had you in.

You feel your body shake from the pleasure as one last thrust of his snaps every rope inside you and lets your orgams flow like a dam breaking down. You squirt for the second time, not long after the previous one. You finish right on him as he languidly fucks you, coming at the same time. Warm ropes of cum paint your insides white.

Toji could feel his body shake from the amount of cum he releases inside you. Gripping the back of your thighs with enough force to leave marks and dips. A myriad of whines and whimpers and moans fill the room as you feel him filling your insides with white. Toji gently plants your feet down on the bed, watching as pools of his cum dribble out of you, staining your thighs and sheets. He takes two of his fingers, scooping them out to push it back inside you, the feel of his fingers overstimulating.

“Got plan b, baby?” you nod, words unable to escape from your throat as you try to bring yourself down from the fervour. Toji rolls off you, laying by your side as his chest heaves with the strenuous workout he had in a while. Once you feel composed, you prop your arm on your elbow, one hand gently tracing the ridges and contours of his abs with your finger.

“Didn’t know you were that good at acting,darling.Should have landed into acting.” you giggle, pressing a small kiss to the side of his lips, right above his scar. Toji breathily chuckles, grabbing you by the waist to pull your upper body flush on top of him, “Says you. “Something of your interest?” Almost tearing the lingerie that you brought me in the first place. Which porn did you watch before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our first ever endeavour 8 months ago. Didn’t it eerily go like this?” your chortles fills the room as Toji lazily joins in, a gentle kiss placed right on your temple. Comfortable silence blankets you both before Toji speaks up,

“Was it you who texted Megumi at that time?” he inquires as you gently hum and nod.

“I told him I won’t be coming to class today. Why?” you nuzzle on his chest as his hand rubs circle on your bare back as he continues, “he looked quite down with your text, I had half the mind to let him know you would be here.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, “Thought you didn’t kiss and tell?” you quip yet deep down a tinge of sadness peeked at your heart as you had a slight idea about how Megumi actually feels about you. Capitalising off you best friend’s dad, especially when the said bestfriend might have some sort of feelings for you isn’t exactly an ideal situation.

Likewise, Toji ponders over this whole setting, without a clue on how, out of everyone, his son’s bestfriend ended up being his sugar baby after years of almost zero sexual endeavours. And simultaneously catching slight feelings over the girl he knows his son has a slight pining for. The whole situation is as fucked up as it can without any conclusions that isn’t ugly.

Yet, the bodily desire. One of the seven deadly sins- lust, becomes too powerful to cloud him of any moral judgement as he pulls you over to his lap. Straddling you right over his crotch, he grabs one of your tits, “Oh honey, I do a lot more than kiss.”, you smirk, indulging for the second round before a familiar voice rang through the house and through both your ears like an alarm.

“I’m home.”

a.n-> as long as you get the bag girl 🫡🤚🏽

event -> @k9nto’s reddit collaboration.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

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decoraskei · 2 months ago

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pairings ⸺ university student!fem!reader x university teacher!part 4! jotaro summary ⸺ your biology university teacher who you've been eyeing almost your entire time there finally decided to take notice to you despite you being known for a.. well, slut. tags ⸺ student and teacher (university), age gap, man handling, semi-public, brat taming, tit fucking/boob job, gagging, oral sex, biting, light choking, marking, discreet sex, fingering, provoking, cunt-slapping, rough sex, masturbation (?), riding, degrading, praising, slut shaming, making out, size kink, thigh riding, pinning, spanking, squirting, edging, eating out. word ⸺ 1,955 words 10,053 characters notes ⸺ this was another one i made before my joseph one so technically this was my first lol. again thank you to anyone who wants to read this EXCEPT for minors, minors please dni.

The silence in this classroom was unnerving.

It was the fact that your friends all changed their mind last minute and once you had already settled in the biology classroom, we all agreed to go to before they ditched you. now here you were, stuck with the biology teacher you have had a crush on ever since you started going to this university and two other classmates…

Mr. Kujo. From what you know and heard, he's going through a divorce and even has a daughter. He was 6'5 and muscular. It was safe to say he was attractive since he got most of the girls hot and bothered. It wasn't just that he was a hot divorced teacher though, it was the way he spoke down on the people who didn't take their classes seriously and it almost made me wonder if he could do just as well in bed.

So here you are, sat staring and dazed by the drop-dead gorgeous man's voice echoing through the classroom. It was bad enough that none of your friends were here but it got even worse when the two others had good excuses to leave which left just you and him. You were snapped out of your thoughts when he asked you a question directly.

"Are you listening?" His tone was low but not like he was angry, or maybe but you were too entranced to pay attention right now.

"Yes Jotaro." You smirked and made direct eye contact with him. Seeing the annoyed expression slowly filling his face in when you called out to him by his name.

"Watch it." This time his almost dangerous and sharp words sent a shiver down your spine and straight to where you needed him most, an almost pulsating feeling taking over for a few mere seconds before you looked back to him and noticed the unmistakable boner straining at his pants and goodness gracious was it large.

It was impressive how he managed to compose his emotions and speak clearly despite his little issue. You stifled a laugh and he knew you knew now. He huffed and sat back down in his seat, shifting rather uncomfortably and leaning back. Standing up and the heels of your shoes clicked as you made way over to his desk to sit on it and make yourself comfortable.

"Is that cause of me?" He stayed silent and you knew he'd never dare to admit it but he didn't have to cause you could already tell, it made you a little prouder. Maybe being ditched wasn't that bad.

Your gaze quickly shifted to the key on his desk and you could only assume it was for the door, so without thinking you took it off the desk, snatching it and quickly moved to lock the door. When you turned back around, you saw he looked shocked but intrigued and when you saw him pat his lap, I knew what was going to happen next.

Tossing the keys onto the desk you straddled one of his thighs and he messily slammed his lips onto yours. Between the noises of muffled groans and the sloppy making out was you lightly grinding onto his thigh and feeling myself get wetter and wetter with every second. Your lips parted with a pop then he went to attack my neck and lay out a series of hickeys which you already accepted that you'd feel proud of after this. It was until he picked you up and put you onto his desk that everything was calm, it caught you by surprise the way he split your thighs open and stared at the now wet fabric standing in his way of where he was obviously headed but don't fret, he solved this by ripping the panties off you and you couldn't help but gasp at how easily he did it.

With no warning or preparation, he went at it with his tongue flickering on your clit intensely, it wasn't unexpected just too quick and as embarrassing as it was to admit it but it almost made you want to cum from just that, the way his tongue flexed against the folds and ate you out hungrily like a starved man made you want more. Your hand wandered to take his hat off him and grab at his hair pathetically almost like a futile attempt to stop him but he could see from the way your back arched that you wanted otherwise.

All was well until you felt two long and slim fingers prodding at your entrance before making their merry way into you and you swore you felt your soul leave your body when he made eye contact for a few seconds before refocusing on what was now his meal. Of course you weren't quiet during this, who would be silent if you had someone going at your pussy like you were their biggest enemy? You were loud and he furrowed his brows in obvious annoyance that you couldn't hold back the obvious string of whines and moans which he solved by stopping and giving a few soft slaps to your already puffy and swollen clit. Then you felt it -- something snapped and you threw your head back against the table and got louder, gripping his hair and the edge of the table with a painful hold. Your eyes were going back and you could see stars for a split second before you blinked and realized he stopped only to look down and see his face completely wet and you realized you had squirted and began crying.

"Good grief." Something about the way he said it made you quiver and before you knew it and although the tears from the aftershock of the orgasm were still pouring a little he straightened up and reached out to rub them away and as if you didn't just have the best orgasm of your life, you felt yourself get horny all over again. He sat back down on his chair obviously spent but you weren't done yet and instead you took off your blouse and unclipped your bra to let loose to your tits as he watched with a certain desire in his eyes you couldn't quite make out. You get onto the ground in front of him and you make an effort to try and get the two belts off, struggling a little bit and fumbling but you manage, you take in the sheer length of him and wished he'd put this glorious thing in you first before anything and then you had an idea. You pumped his chair down a little and squeezed your tits together a little before taking his shaft into your hand and oh lord was it even bigger when you held it.. You slide his length in between the two soft mounds and do your thing as he leans his head back and groans with his grip on the arm rests looking severe.

The more you moved up and down the length of his dick the more precum started to leak out of the pretty and nicely shaped tip, you started to wonder what kind of demented woman would divorce her husband when he was someone like Jotaro. You were zoning out and you only snapped out of it when he came all over your tits and to him you looked like you were in a trance.. You scooped up a little of the liquid off your cleavage and tasted it whilst maintaining eye contact and it only seemed to drive him more… You were about to stand up when he grabs a load of your hair, you let out a gasp and he grabs a hold of his shaft to smear some of the left over cum onto your lips and slap it a little before prodding open your lips and shoving you down which made you gag and sent tears nudging at your eyes again.

"Slut." You heard his words echo in the empty class but also felt it echoing through your head as he forced your head up and down on his cock like a ragdoll. It almost felt right the way he was using your throat like this and you looked up at him to see him smirking before taking his other hand to wipe the tears away again and caress your cheek almost like he was trying to comfort you through this. He continued bringing you up to the point where your lips reached his tip and then down to where your nose touched his pelvis and you could tell he was enjoying this rhythm since the small grunts and groans were giving it away, eventually he came down your throat and you didn't even have the option to swallow because he decided for you.

He pats his lap again for you and you straddle him quickly on the chair reaching down to grab a hold of his cock to line it up to your entrance before you slowly lowered yourself, he held a dangerous grip on your waist before it slid up your side and massaged your tits a little, playing with the flesh and the nipple between his index finger and thumb. You couldn’t help but let out a loud string of moans as you started to move up and down on him, the feeling of him slipping in and out of me was way too much and he yet again solved this issue by taking his hand off my tit to reach it up to my neck to lightly squeeze it with a warning.

“Quiet down.” You swallowed the rest of the moans prodding at your lips and just moved up and down silently as his hand stilled at your neck and the other going to your waist and pulling you forward so that you could wrap your arms around his neck and he could have easier access to grab your ass with a rough grip on it.

“We have thirty minutes left, hurry.” With that you started going faster and it got even harder trying to hold back the lewd sounds since you were close. Sooner or later you came and he ended up cumming inside.

You pull off him and think you were finished, the feeling of relief and satisfaction left completely when he stood up and pushed you against the wall so you were facing it and pinning you to it. You understood without him having to say much and bent over so your ass was pressed against his still hard cock and you felt him slip in quick.

“Good girl,” He muttered before he leaned down and pressed kisses to your shoulders as you held the wall with one hand. He wrapped his arms around your waist and began plunging into you, you yelped out and moaned loudly but he was quick to silence you and cover your mouth. The sound of skin on skin was now audible as he bullied your insides, his pace quick as if there was no tomorrow. He bit down on your shoulder as if trying to silence himself and you reached your free hand down to your clit.

Sometime later his thrusts got sloppier and uneven, though he was still quick and you couldn’t keep up yet. Then he slowed down and with two more thrusts he came with his hips stilling. Your hips connected together like puzzle pieces before he pulled out to rest his now softening cock on your ass.

The worst part was he put on his pants on then kissed you and left, you were in disbelief but it was hot how he used you. Your gaze flickered to the paper on the table and you took it.

“Come by tomorrow.”

thank you sm for reading!! i know it may not be the best considering my overusing of 'before' & 'and' but i hope to improve in the future!! (i hardly have motivation to write) if you have any requests for the next one just send a few tag suggestions/what you want in the fic and if its a character i dont rlly know then ill look at some clips or read about the character so i can try make it possible 4 u! tysm <3

#jotaro smut #jotaro kujo #jotaro kujo smut #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo x you #jotaro kujo x reader smut #jotaro kujo x you smut #jjba #jjab smut #jjba x you #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure diamond is unbreakable #jojos bizarre adventure part 4 #jojos bizarre adventure smut #jojos bizarre adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure x you #jojos bizarre adventure x reader smut #jojos bizarre adventure x you smut #evafics

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flowerfreya · 6 months ago

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Emotions

Part 6 of The Office AU

Pairing: John Price x Soap x Ghost x Gaz

Content: I saw a post that said a lot of poly 141 is actually just RH , which made me want to give backstory on the 141 and the lore

There is gay smut in this so minors DNI

Masterlist

They all met each other when they got recruited to be in a special task force that was made up entirely of SPECOP soldiers, Johnny for explosives, Gaz for communications , Simon for security, and John was the leader of it all. They trauma bonded, hard. They got close, closer than a lot of other special groups usually do. They were away from other humans other than themselves for almost 6 - 9 months out of the year. They went through everything together. One mission changed everything.

It was cold , they were in Serbia doing recon in a safe house that maybe housed the spies that the brass has been looking for when they were spotted. A gunshot pierces Johnny in the leg and then another shot appears where his foot just was. Price is yelling , trying to get a nine line out here but it’s too hostile, too remote, too far. Johnny thinks he’s going to die, he sees all his blood in the snow and thinks this is it.

“I love you”, he whispers, to no one specific because he is saying it to all of them. Gaz is trying to stop the bleeding, making a tourniquet, shakes his head with a grim look on his face doesn’t respond, can’t respond. Sounds like a goodbye to him so he doesn’t respond and continues to try to stop the bleeding.

“Shut the fuck up”,Ghost growls. He looks down and sees that Johnny's eyes are closed and gives him a little slap, “you're not dying that easy on me”. He sounds mad but his eyes are frantic, looking from Price to Gaz, to Soap’s leg and then back again. He can’t lose him because he knows if they lose Soap , they won’t recover after this they won’t. Price is screaming over the radio, just flat out ignores Soap goodbye because it’s not to him and he will be able to say it back tomorrow. They won’t give him the evac, stating that a helo won’t be able to land there without being hit by the hostiles.

“We can clear the hostiles”, Price affirms.

Ghost isn’t the best sniper out of the group but compared to the rest of the division he is ranked top three. He takes them out with three bullets, one for each person. When he lift the mirror from the quickly built cover and nothing happens , they quickly and carefully as possible haul Soap to the safe house. It’s bare, only a fire going and almost expired can be good but it’s a shelter. The evac takes 5 hours to get there. Johnny is sweating but every once in a while would complain of being cold. He’s pale and exhausted. He doesn’t get mad when they shake him away every time he closes his eyes. He knows he’s close to death but when he looks at Price’s face and it purr agony anytime he looks at him, Soap knows that he needs this, if this is all he can do to make him feel better he will do it.

“After this, I’m done”, Simon speaks up, he looks down at the floor but he sounds resolved like he’s made up his mind.

“Me too”, Gaz argrees.

“Me too”,Soap whispers , he tries to raise his hand but Ghost gives him that if wasn’t already dying, Ghost would do it. Price just nods because even though his career is his life, what is the point when the people that he loves are not there with him. There is none.

“Me too”,Price says.

When Soap finally gets out of the hospital after three weeks and two surgeries , he’s prescribed physical therapy and an honorable discharge. The rest of the boys take a minute to get that same honor but when they do , they take the night to celebrate.

They are drunk, having brought the most expensive bottle of whiskey and mead that Price has. And they get drunk, they get horny. Someone suggested strip poker, “I don’t know how to play poker”, Gaz exclaims.

“Come sit in papa’s lap , will help you”, Price is patting his lap and Gaz takes a seat already feeling his length against his ass. The game doesn’t even progress past the first pass before they migrate to the bed. Gaz lets out a mewl as Soap licks from the top of his cock and then gives the best rimjob that he’s ever received in his life. He grips Price’s shoulder as he lets out a needy hum into his mouth, thrusting up into the air looking for any type of friction and receiving none. “Please”, he whimpers.

“Please, what”, Simon says. But Simon already knows what he wants and is prepped enough to give it. He swings his legs over Gaz and gently lowers himself onto his cock letting a low and slow growl as Gaz lets out a curse , “so warm, feels so good”, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Price grabs Gaz’s hand and places it on his hard cock and envelopes his hand to move up and down, he lets out a broken gasp , “Keep doing that baby”, he whispers in his ear. Ghost grabs the back of Soap's head and holds him there, Soap makes a filthy wet noise, his hips moving up and down against Gaz’s leg getting off the all the noise and just rimming him in general.

Gaz hips stutter inside of Ghost, Ghost grabs on to his own cock and sets a bruising pace , which Gaz matches on Price’s cock. Let out a collective variety of curse words before warm cum is all over Gaz and inside Simon. Soap lifts off of Gaz and gives a dirty kiss to Simon and then Simon gives a nasty and loud kiss to Price with Gaz reaching over Simon’s shoulder to give Soap a kiss.

Price get’s up to go to the bathroom to get them all cleaned up with Soap going to the kitchen to get a large water bottle. Ghost and Gaz are cuddling, with Gaz holding Simon talking sweet nothing in his ear with him already dozing off. Price gets everyone cleaned up and Soap makes sure everyone gets some water, then they get into a giant ass bed that of course Price custom made and goes to sleep , because tomorrow Price has an interview for a new permanent receptionist.

#smut #john price x soap x ghost x gaz #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon x johnny #Kyle gaz Garrick x simon

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 9 months ago

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Part four of Mean Eddie x Reader series.

Part one Part Two Part Three

Minors shoo! Tiny hint of fluff, Wayne to the rescue, Eddie's po.v.

💌

Eddie is quiet when he isn't in Dungeon Master mode during the latest campaign. He's been like this for a while now and Gareth is worried.

He's sure it's something to do with you, observed the tension between you and Eddie earlier this week with Billy.

Gareth isn't the only one to notice this. Wayne does too. He knows his boy and every one of his moods, knows when something is eating at him. So when Eddie comes back from the campaign that night he's there with a smile and ready to listen.

"What's going on son? You okay? You're quiet and you ain't been quiet since you learned how to talk" Eddie smiles faintly and grabs a beer from the fridge, Wayne pretends not to notice this and grabs one for himself.

"There's this girl I've been seeing and she... We... I thought we were just this casual thing but she wants more and we ended things but I... Shit I miss her uncle Wayne" he says it all in a rush and Wayne listens intently.

"You'll fix things son. Just gotta give it some time" Wayne pats his shoulder and Eddie feels his whole body relax. Wayne's always been the one to calm him down when his emotions got to big, when he needed to soothe the chaos in his mind.

Well his mom did that too but it's been so long without her now, the memories are vague and he clings on to the things he can remember, the smell of her perfume, the way he felt safe and protected when she held him and those big brown eyes that were so much like his own.

For a moment he gives into the memories then speaks again, comes back to the present and the mess he's made with you. At first when the two of you stopped seeing each other he assumed he'd be fine and move on.

Big mistake. He missed you and your laugh and the way you would listen enraptured to his stories, asked him to make ones up for you all the time.

It snuck up on him but he began missing the smell of your perfume and the way you would play with his hair when the two of you were wrapped up together after incredible sex. Or the sweetness you showed to him even when he was a grumpy ass if he was in the middle of a campaign.

Eddie even missed the way you would excitedly tell him the latest gossip about Jason and his band of buttheads, and he missed the way your eyes lit up and you would smile when Eddie couldn't help but be tender with you, the way he would hold you for a few seconds and feel comfortable and relaxed with you.

Fuck he was a major douchebag.

"I don't know if I can. I messed up and said stupid shit, I made her cry", his hands tighten on his mug as the thought of your tears physically pains him. Wayne gives him a "son, I love you but I'm disappointed with you" look and Eddie's stomach sinks. He hates disappointing Wayne.

"Boy I raised you better than to mess around with girls hearts. You gotta stop moping around and apologise to her for being such an idiot. She obviously means something to you if you're missing her like this"

As always Wayne was right and Eddie was anxiously wondering if you would even accept his apology. Would you move on to Billy who was always flirting with you? Or maybe Steve. Steve didn't make girls cry, he treated them like princesses.

That's what he was going to do with you, treat you like a princess. Swallow his pride and admit he fucked up.

Well if you ever spoke to him again he would.

...

You're late for school on Monday and rush to your locker. It doesn't even register that there's something stuffed into your locker that wasn't there before. Doesn't register until the pretty wildflowers fall to the floor.

Gently you pick them up and find them tied together with a simple black hair tie.

Eddie's hair tie.

🫶

...

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson

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solivagant242 · 5 months ago

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losing you pt. 1

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, minor swearing (?)

my first fanfic ever!!!

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you like <3.

pt. 2 is out!

_______________________________________

Amberly was used to Remus’ bad days by now.

At least, that was what she thought.

The days before the full moon always held an unspoken tension, like a thick, sticky film that hung over their relationship and slowed her every move and action. She’d learned how to handle it- leave food and tea and chocolate on the counter, curl up on the sofa, and read or study to let Remus rest. Trying to talk gave him a headache, and being in any position that wasn’t lying down left him irritable and short of breath.

She was used to it.

What she wasn’t used to was the feeling of isolation that always accompanied it. Of being left behind, forgotten, all the happiness and expectation she’d been harboring dashed in one moment and left for nothing.

“Love, we’re leaving at seven, right?” Amberly’s hair swished against one shoulder as she tilted her head to slide in a pearl earring. An excited smile lifted her lips- glossy, for once, as she was finally wearing the makeup Lily had gotten her for Christmas. “I think Pads said he might be there early. We could stop by Flourish and Blotte’s, maybe”-

His gravelly voice sighed from the bedroom. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling so great.”

Concern flooded Amberly as she hurried out of the bathroom, sitting next to him where he was lying on the unmade bed. His eyes were dull and his hair was dry and messy, not soft like usual. “Are you doing okay?” She rested a hand on his forehead.

Remus jerked away, closing his eyes. “Your hands are cold.”

“Oh.” Amberly stared at her hands, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry. Do you not want to go, then?”

“I don’t know,” he replied wearily, turning his face to the wall. “I’ve got such a headache.”

A pit grew in Amberly’s stomach. But it’s our anniversary.

She quickly pushed those words away, guilt flooding her at even the thought. Putting a smile on her face, she leaned forwards to pat Remus’ foot beneath the blankets. “It’s okay. We can stay home, watch a movie? Would you like that? I could order us food. Or make some brownies”-

“Can you just- stop?” came Remus’ voice from under the blanket. His head appeared a second later, hazel eyes blinking at her with a trace of remorse. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s just kinda loud, and I’ve got a monster headache”-

Biting her lip, Amberly nodded, sliding off the bed. Turning back to the bathroom, she pulled out her earrings, tugged her hair up into its usual messy bun.

It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s just having a bad evening, that’s all…

It’s not always like this, of course. When it’s not the full moon, when it’s not that fateful week leading up to it, he’s the sweetest boyfriend known to mankind. He holds her hand, kisses her hair, swings her around and buys her roses that he charms to smell even sweeter from the little corner shop down the road.

But now…almost every week now. It feels like the full moon weeks have been growing longer and longer, taking away her Moony and replacing him with an irritable, cold stranger.

She knows that it’s hard for him. She knows how he pushes people away when he’s hurt or in pain, not wanting to show any emotion, receive any pity.

But why does it always hurt her too?

Now, she sits at the kitchen table and stares at her dark phone.

Remus hasn’t answered her text for the better part of three hours.

Nothing even serious, just a question: hey, do you wanna go to that bakery down the street? It might be fun, I saw they have the hazelnut cake you like so much.

Even though what she wants to say is I miss you, I feel like you’re slipping away, I’ve had such a long week and I want to spend time with you, I feel so lonely and pathetic waiting for your response…

The clock ticks loudly on the wall. 6:27 p.m., two and a half hours past the time he was usually home.

A single tear slides down Amberly’s cheek.

He hasn’t answered. Still.

Something clicks at the door and she jumps, sitting up straight. He’s home.

Hurriedly wiping at her face, Amberly slides off her chair and goes to the door as it opens, a smile cracking her face for what feels like the first time that day. “Hey. How was work? Bad traffic?”

Remus pulls off his coat and slings it over the counter before answering her. “Fine.” His voice is short, clipped.

Amberly’s chest twinges. “Are you okay?”

He shrugs, kicking off his shoes. “Just tired. Long day, and full moon soon. All that shit.” Glancing around the kitchen, he rummages in one of the cabinets. “Did you get that chamomile tea?”

For a moment Amberly remembers how he used to come home, how she’d throw her arms around him and he’d bury his nose in her hair, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg flooding her as he held her to his chest.

She can’t remember the last time he held her like that.

Biting her lip, she moves towards him and opens the cabinet to pull out the little yellow box of tea, holding it out. “Here. It’s Twinings.”

Remus blinks at her before taking it. “Thanks.” He turns his back and pulls out a mug, filling up the kettle.

Tears fill Amberly’s eyes and she blinks them away before they can overflow in a hot, sticky waterfall over her sweater. “Do you- do you want to sit for a while? I can make us dinner.”

Remus shrugs, a tiny movement beneath his button-down. “If you’d like. I’ve got an awful headache, though, so I’ll probably lie down.”

“Okay.”

The word wobbles and breaks as it leaves her lips, but she knows he won’t notice. Turning, Amberly makes her way to the little library they made down the hall, just beyond their bedroom. Every single picture, every cushion, every book was one they’d picked out when they had moved in a year ago.

A year ago…

Had it really been a year?

It felt like much, much longer.

“Someone’s going to see us!” protested Amberly, laughing as she tried to push Remus away. The white blanket she’s holding slips to the floor of the little furniture shop.

He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. “So what? I can’t kiss my girlfriend now?” Reaching out, he picked up the coverlet and draped it over her dark hair. “You look like a bride now. My Mrs. Lupin.”

Amberly smiled up at him, big brown eyes melting into the warmth of his hazel ones…

Now, she blinks tears from her eyes, pulling off her glasses to smear them away.

It’s not his fault. That’s the thing, what she keeps telling herself. She should be grateful he wants to be with her, for trying to manage the beast within him and still have a relationship at all. He’s trying, isn’t he? She would never be able to manage the pain that he has to endure.

But it hurts for me, too.

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tainsan · 1 year ago

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misfits VIII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: verbal and physical abuse, anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of blood

⇥ word count: 11.1k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive situations, please read with care. this chapter is very angsty.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“Wait backtrack, you have known them for years?” Jisung questions, extremely confused by the story you are telling him. Jisung's touch on your back provides a faint sense of comfort amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs you. His hand moves in a soothing rhythm, gliding up and down your trembling spine. The sobs that wrack your body become a symphony of sorrow, echoing through the air, and intertwining with Jisung's soft touch. With each tremor that courses through you, he maintains a steady presence, a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. His touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture.

Sniffling, you answer, “Yes, they were that group I was with in high school, the ones who I got friendly with just before my mom died,” you explain, best you can with tears falling down your face and your voice shaking in your throat.

“Huh? You said they died?” Jisung asks, confused by the sudden confession from you, your words not making sense in his head that the eight you used to love were alive.

“I knew it wasn’t true.”

“But if the police said they died, then surely it would be true?”

“I never heard it from the police, I heard it from a guy who claimed to be a family member of ‘captain’. Who is apparently Hongjoong, I guess? It never made any sense, there was no proof, only this stranger’s word.”

“That makes more sense,” Jisung admits, nodding at the information before he realises something, “that’s likely why they changed their name from KQ Fellaz and ‘faked’ their death, so they could have a fresh start.”

“I suppose so, they wanted to start anew,” you conclude, trying to find any excuse or reason for them to have lied to you.

“That’s probably why they didn't tell you then.” Jisung raises his hand to rest on your head, patting it gently in an attempt to comfort you, yet all it does is remind you of all the times Wooyoung or San would do it to you, making your eyes sting even more than before.

“But why would they hide from me? I was their friend, they said I was one of them. How could they lie to me?”

“I am sure they had their reasons. You likely weren’t that close to them back then.”

As your gaze meets Jisung's, a profound realisation settles within you. In order for him to truly grasp the gravity of the situation and provide the support you need; you understand that it is necessary to lay bare the entirety of your journey. With a resolute breath, you begin recounting everything, from the very first moment you crossed paths with them to the heart-wrenching instant when they departed from your life. Every memory, every cherished moment, to the painful goodbye.

It all began in the middle of your Senior year in high school.

“Okay, class please pay attention we have a new student.” Your homeroom teacher announces, yet you pay zero interest to the familiar lady talking at the front of the classroom, simply continuing to draw in the sketch book you brought from home.

Immersed in the classroom setting, you find peace and concentration with a single wired headphone nestled in your ear. As the sounds of commotion and chatter from your surroundings gradually fade away, your attention becomes laser-focused on the small details of your immediate environment. The rhythmic strokes of your pencil on paper create a soothing melody, harmonising with the gentle hum of music seeping into your left ear, creating a personalised soundtrack to your inner world.

Positioned near the back of the classroom, you find yourself beside an open window, inviting the outside world to merge with you. The autumn breeze delicately sweeps through the window, gracefully brushing against your skin and delicately tousling your hair. The serene atmosphere in the air instils a deep sense of tranquillity, infusing your being with an irrefutable sense of ease and contentment.

Momentarily shifting your gaze outside, you are captivated by the sight before you. The warm wind, with its tender touch, continues to playfully tickle your face as if inviting you to fully embrace the present moment. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with the crisp and refreshing scent of fall, a refreshing reminder of the beauty and change that accompanies this season.

“Could I sit here, please?” a soft voice speaks out from your right, if you were even an inch to the left, you would have not heard the boy, who seems to be looking at the chair on which your bag resides. Locking your gaze upon the boy standing before you, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you, and you mentally berate yourself for your sluggishness in comprehending his inquiry. A rush of frustration washes over you as you silently curse your own slowness, your mind now grasping the meaning behind his words. With a mere nod, you hastily seize the bag lying on the nearby surface and hastily tuck it away beneath your own chair, your movements reflecting your urgency. Turning your attention back to your sketchbook, you purposefully avoid glancing at the boy who wordlessly settles into the seat beside you.

Despite the absence of spoken words, you sense an adamant intensity radiating from the boy to your left. Internally, you let out a groan, fully aware that you must address this unfamiliar stranger and request that he mind his business. Tentatively, you direct your gaze towards him, annoyed you have to speak despite, yet before you can utter a single syllable, you are captivated by the sight that unfolds before you.

The boy's face beams with an adorable smile that engulfs his entire face, rendering you momentarily speechless. This unexpected display of pure charm effectively silences your intended retort, leaving your lips tightly sealed.

“I like your drawing.” His voice is incredibly soft and serene, yet the smile on his face speaks thousands of more words. The boy's unexpected compliment catches you off guard, causing a rush of warmth to surge through your cheeks, the telltale sign of an invading blush spreading down your neck. Your expression betrays a mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as you struggle to process this unfamiliar gesture of kindness. In that brief moment, you find yourself momentarily taken aback, incredulous that such a genuinely kind individual exists within the confines of this school.

Observing the boy attentively, you notice a complete lack of any hint of teasing or mockery behind his eyes, further deepening your astonishment. A flicker of uncertainty twinkles within you as you realise that he is carefully examining the paper before you, his gaze fixated on the meticulously crafted sketch of the mesmerising person you encountered during your morning journey to the classroom. A momentary sense of insecurity flits through your mind, as you worry that he will spot every small detail and flaw etched within the artwork. Left momentarily speechless, you can only offer another nod in response, silently conveying your gratitude without the need for words. Exhaustion from the past few days weighs heavily upon you, especially the funeral, leaves you unable to form words. You aren’t sure if it’s from the grief or the exhaustion.

Returning your focus to the sanctuary of your sketchbook, you resume the gentle strokes of your pencil upon the textured paper, desperately trying to capture and preserve the exact essence of the enigmatic person you encountered earlier. Each deliberate movement of your hand serves as an attempt to etch their features into your memory, ensuring that no captivating detail eludes your artistic rendition.

“I’m, uh… Hwa, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy called ‘Hwa’ speaks out, his voice is still quiet and you’re somewhat glad that he’s so soft-spoken, not wanting to deal with loud and obnoxious people right now. Once more, your eyes drift towards the right, where the boy sits with an endearing smile that effortlessly melts a fragment of your heart. Despite the warmth elicited by his expression, you find yourself limited to another nod as your sole means of communication. This time, your gesture conveys a silent acknowledgement, silently reciprocating his unspoken sentiment of "nice to meet you too." Without delay, you pivot back to your artwork, realising that this marks the third time you have redirected your attention in the span of a mere five minutes.

Hwa, perceptive in nature, detects your unwillingness to engage in conversation and graciously accepts your silent response. His smile remains untouched as he shifts his focus towards the front of the classroom, where your teacher begins recounting events from your weekend. While he respects your preference for silence, a sense of curiosity lingers within him, compelling him to wonder why someone as captivatingly beautiful as you would choose to remain in the shadows of social isolation.

From that crucial moment onward, it became apparent that Hwa had undertaken some sort of personal mission to forge a friendship with you. Each morning, he would approach you, eager to share anecdotes about his day, all about his close circle of seven friends, and his positive experiences in the new school. Puzzled by his unwavering interest in your life, you couldn't fathom why he found you intriguing, and it began to grate on your nerves. Despite your initial annoyance, you gradually learned that he had recently relocated from his father's home and was now residing with his mother, who he seems to prefer much more than his old man. He would go on and on about how his father was a horrible man, someone who he is very glad to not have in his life. From this information, you find yourself relating to Hwa and you almost feel grateful for his honesty and for the way he trusts you to relay this information.

As days turned into weeks, then months, Hwa's relentless efforts to elicit conversation and draw you out of your shell continued persistently. Initially, his persistence irritated you, but over time, his endearing gestures and genuinely kind manner began to chip away at your defences. Though your interactions remained devoid of spoken words, you found yourself gradually warming up to him, unable to resist the charm of his sweet antics. Each day, you maintained your steadfast silence, wordlessly lending an ear to his stories and offering the occasional nod to assure him of your attentive presence.

Hwa, driven by an unquenchable desire to hear your voice and witness your active participation in conversations, incessantly peppered you with questions. He longed for the day when your voice would join him in harmonious dialogue, surpassing the limitations of mere nods and smiles.

On a particular day, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon as you make your way home from school, the hour growing later than usual. A detour had become necessary as you sought out one of your teachers, embarking on a conversation regarding an assignment that you had fallen behind on. This particular instructor, well-informed about your personal home situation, swiftly understood the situation and granted you some much-needed leeway, even extending the offer of utilising an empty classroom for writing, while she occupied herself with grading tests. This teacher you trusted fully, her being the only person you speak with verbally. She understands why you are fewer with your words, not prying you ever. Grateful for the understanding and opportunity, you had seized the chance to make much-needed progress on your assignment.

As you traverse the familiar path home, the ambient noise of your surroundings blends with the music resonating through your headphones, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. Engrossed in your auditory world, a distant voice manages to penetrate the barrier, capturing your attention. Swiftly turning your head, you catch sight of Hwa, jogging towards you with an infectious smile illuminating his face. The sun, in its gradual inclination, casts a warm glow upon his features, accentuating his sincere enthusiasm as he closes the distance between you.

“___.” He yells, excited to see you outside of school. When he reaches you, he is panting slightly and you realise he must have sprinted pretty far to catch up with you. Giving him a confused look, you wonder why he is near this area, never have seen him come this way before. Luckily, after months, Hwa has become accustomed to your familiar actions and wordless antics, being able to recognise what your different movements and expressions indicate. Your feelings for the man have developed immensely and you find yourself becoming extremely fond of the guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that the more you get to know him, the more you realise how handsome he is.

“What are you doing here?” Hwa questions, walking next to you as you continue to head towards your house.

“Going home.” You mutter your voice nothing above a whisper, you are shocked yourself by the words coming out of your mouth. You suddenly wonder why it is that you can suddenly speak freely around Hwa.

Immediately, Hwa’s eyes open hugely upon hearing you talk for the first time, he stops walking next to you, his mouth hanging wide open widely. Looking back at him, you giggle at his dramatic reaction, before speaking again.

“What?’’ You say, your body turning fully towards him, walking backwards, and scanning over his every reaction.

Quickly, the male bounds towards you, the smile resuming as he makes his way to you, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“So, what did I do to deserve the ___ to finally speak to me,” Hwa asks, his voice giddy as he skips next to you.

“I don’t know, I feel safe around you...” You admit, trailing off and becoming slightly insecure about the way your voice sounds. Hwa seems to notice the turmoil of thoughts running through your head and instantly pauses your walking by grabbing your hand lightly, pulling you to look up at his warm eyes.

“You have a nice voice, please keep on speaking.” His voice is soft and peaceful, like usual, but at this moment, it sounds like music to your ears. Feeling your cheeks getting warm, you turn to look away, continuing your walk home. The both of you turn back to moving forwards and you realise you didn’t reciprocate the question Hwa had asked.

“Why are you here?” You ask, curious as to why Hwa would be in this area, never having seen him before around here.

“Ah, I’m seeing my friends, we are meeting at that abandoned warehouse just around the corner from here. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret hideout.” The male explains a small chuckle leaving his throat as he turns to you to put out his pinkie finger. Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is pointing his pinkie finger at you.

“Pinkie promise that you won’t tell anyone.” For a moment he looks incredibly serious, and you wonder as to why he is so stern about the hideout of his friends. It makes you feel soft that here, an eighteen-year-old boy is so seriously making you pinkie promise something. The innocence of the action has you smiling widely, your heart melting.

“Okay, okay.” You reluctantly say, linking your pinkie with his, the both of you letting out gentle laughs. It is quiet for a while as the two of you continue on your way to your separate destinations when Hwa suddenly asks you a question.

“Would you perhaps like to come with me?” The tall male asks, hoping to spend some time with you outside of school, especially since now you are finally fully conversing with him.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you worry as to what would happen if you don’t show up on time home, worrying as to how your father would react. However, you realise tonight he should be out with some of his friends, drinking and knowing he will be out until the early hours of the morning. Today, it seems as if luck is in your favour. Not having any friends, it seems somewhat beautiful that Hwa invited you along to hang out with his friend group. From what you have heard from him, the group is very close and doesn’t usually spend time with outsiders. Yet at the same time, you have heard about how kind and fun they are, which makes it extremely easy to decide.

“I’d love that.”

So, you met the rest of the boys, and it was almost alien how quickly you hit it off with all of them.

“So, you must be the pretty girl who never speaks.” A cute boy with light purple hair speaks out and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you realise Hwa has talked about you to his friends, even calling you pretty. Feeling your body start to get hot, Hwa places a hand on your shoulder in an effort to let you know that it’s okay and his friend is just teasing.

A jolt of surprise courses through you as your eyes land on a face that feels oddly familiar, instantly triggering a spark of recognition. It dawns on you that this is the very same male figure you had been sketching on the day you first encountered Hwa. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as the realisation hits home, leaving you acutely aware that Hwa must have noticed you discreetly capturing his friend's portrait. Yet, to your immense relief, Hwa remains tight-lipped about the situation, his mischievous wink the only acknowledgement he offers in response to your stunned expression upon seeing the familiar face.

As you meet each friend individually, a remarkable sense of astonishment washes over you when you realise how effortlessly you connect with the boys. It's as if you're engaging in conversations with Hwa himself, the connection and company flowing naturally between you. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of new acquaintances, you find comfort in only observing their banter, occasionally opting for quiet observation rather than actively participating in the verbal exchange.

Watching them interact and revel in their shared friendship fills you with inexplicable joy, for it is a feeling you had longed for—an authentic sense of belonging among friends. The ease with which you seamlessly fit into their circle surprises you, and it's not ignored by boys either, they immediately grow fond of you. They sense the immediate connection, as if destiny had intended for you to be a part of their lives all along.

This remarkable harmony that you effortlessly slot into makes it a natural progression for the boys to invite you to join them in their hangouts. The invitation comes easily as if it were given that you should be included, reinforcing the notion that you have found a place among them—a group of friends who accept and appreciate you just as you are.

There is a pure glow from each of them, yet you notice the blank, pained expressions and feelings on their faces, and it feels as if you are looking in the mirror and it is as if they can understand and relate deeply to who you are without needing to utter a single word.

Many days after this you find yourself spending more and more time with the group, finding yourself loving each of them the way you have grown to love Hwa. Turning up the music and dancing was your favourite part of your hangouts, watching as they all chanted to songs and moved to the beat. It made you feel some sense of belonging, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Writing and singing to songs was one of the very things you loved most about the hang outs, every time they start a verse having to say the words “fix on”, or finishing it with “passion, young, fever”. The very words starting to feel as if they are engraved in your mind.

One peculiar aspect that strikes you is the fact that none of the boys have ever shared their actual names with you. Instead, they refer to each other solely by their unique and endearing nicknames. Yet, strangely enough, this detail doesn't bother you in the slightest. The absence of birth names becomes inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What truly matters is the profound contentment you feel, having finally discovered a group of individuals with whom you can fully be yourself with.

In their presence, you experience a rare sense of comfort, as if you've known them for a lifetime. Walls crumble, masks fade away, and you can simply exist as your authentic self. The love and acceptance that enters the air create a seemingly unbreakable bond. The absence of formal introductions and conventional names becomes a trivial detail, dwarfed by the depth of connection and genuine affection that binds you together. As your relationships with each of the boys deepened, an unexpected shift occurred within your heart, surpassing the boundaries of familial affection, and evolving into a profound form of liking. You were well aware of the impropriety of harbouring such feelings for all eight of them, understanding that it was highly unlikely any of them reciprocated those same emotions. Yet, you couldn't help but acknowledge that your heart seemed to act independently, beyond the constraints of reason.

What made matters even more complex was the knowledge that two of the boys were nursing shattered hearts, their pain etched deeply upon their souls due to a girl you had never met and who, in all likelihood, you had no chance against. The stories that circulated among the group painted a picture of a messy and agonising heartbreak that had left them both broken in its wake. Despite the overwhelming depth of your feelings for them, you made a conscious decision to suppress your own desires, opting instead to provide solace and support as they navigated their heartache. Every time you witnessed their tears, mourning over the faceless girl who had captivated their hearts, an ache resonated within your own chest. It was an ache born from unrequited emotions, an emotional reminder of the distance that separated you from the love they sought. Nonetheless, you steeled yourself, pushing those yearnings aside, focusing on being the shoulder to lean on, the one who offered unwavering support and understanding during their darkest hours. It was a choice fuelled by selflessness and a desire to ease their suffering, even if it meant struggling with your own unspoken longing.

The warehouse was an unusual sanctuary for you, a place of solitude amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its towering shelves of empty boxes and the faint scent of cardboard, rust and moss, it offered a kind of comfort you couldn't find elsewhere. It was where you escaped to when you needed a break from the world.

Today, you arrived early, finishing school ahead of schedule due to a teacher falling ill. Alone in the vast expanse of the warehouse, you found peace in the quiet, engrossed in the pages of a book. The soft rustling of paper and the distant hum of the outside world being the only noise surrounding you.

As you turned another page, lost in the world of words, a sudden, screeching noise sliced through the calm. Startled, you look up just in time to see the massive metal door at the far end of the warehouse creaking open, a thin beam of sunlight piercing the dim interior.

The sudden blast of light makes you squint, shielding your eyes with one hand as you try to discern who or what had interrupted your solitude. Your heart raced slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution welling within you. The warehouse wasn't a frequented place, and the unexpected visitor had piqued your interest.

Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside, rising from your makeshift reading spot. As your eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, you made out the silhouette of a person framed by the open door.

Recognition washed over you like a gentle wave, replacing your initial unease with a sense of relief and surprise. The person at the door was someone you hadn't expected to see in this unlikely place.

“Oh sorry ___, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Yeo’s voice reaches your ears and you see his cute face pop around the corner as your eyes get used to the sudden flash.

“Tiny is here?” The man you know as Woo follows behind Yeo with a wide smile on his face.

“What are you doing here so early?” He jumps up to you and lays on the couch, nuzzling his head onto your lap, the action sending a rush of butterflies into your body.

“I finished early, sorry for not letting you guys know I was coming.” You apologise, feeling bashful for intruding in their personal space without their knowledge.

“It’s okay, you are always welcome here.” Yeo smiles as he says quietly and makes his way over to you and Woo on the couch.

Smiling back at him, you observe as he pushes Woo’s legs to the side before sitting at the other end of the couch.

“So what are you doing here?” Woo asked from underneath you.

“Oh I just needed some peace to read my book, this is the only place I actually feel calm.”

“I also have that.” Yeo exclaims, a bigger smile on his face, “when we are here it feels like the outside world doesn’t even matter.”

“Exactly.” You smile at him, his relatable statement causing your chest to swell for some odd reason.

“I’m going to sleep, school was far too much today.” Woo's announcement about his exhaustion draws a soft giggle from you, a gentle sound that fills the room with a sense of warmth. He snuggles further into your lap, seeking comfort after a long day. His actions create an intimate moment that's both endearing and heartwarming.

The soft giggle that escapes your throat is like music to the ears of the two men beside you.

“Where do you guys go to school? I’ve never seen you at mine.”

“Oh we go to the one just around the corner, only Hwa goes to your school.”

“I see.”

Gazing down at Woo nestled in your lap, a fond smile graces your lips. Your feelings for him have also grown deep, and his flirtatious nature has become both endearing and exhilarating, adding a touch of excitement to your interactions. His playful personality has woven a unique bond between you, one that's filled with affection and a sense of familiarity.

With a tender touch, you reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from Woo's face, your fingers gentle and caring. The small gesture elicits a soft grin from him, a silent acknowledgment that your action made him feel delighted.

Turning your attention to Yeo, you find yourself captivated by the subtle details that make him unique. His gaze, focused on the two of you together, holds a certain warmth and depth.

Yeo and yourself engage in a quiet conversation, and you find yourself relishing this rare opportunity to connect with him on a personal level. In the larger group, he often keeps to himself, a quiet presence in the midst of the lively discussions. It's exciting to finally have a one-on-one conversation with him, a chance to peel back the layers and get to know the person behind the reserved exterior.

The hour or so that you spend chatting is a revelation. You discover a shared interest in books, a passion that he's clearly enthusiastic about. Yeo's eyes light up as he shares recommendations from his personal reading choices, and you're captivated by the depth of his knowledge and his love for literature.

As the conversation flows, you delve into the world of books, exchanging thoughts on favourite authors, genres, and memorable reads. The exchange of recommendations feels like a treasure trove of new adventures waiting to be explored. It's a conversation that transcends the boundaries of the room and opens a door to a shared passion that you both cherish. In this moment you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu, as if you have been in this position before, or have yet to be in this situation.

During this intimate moment, you realise that beneath Yeo's quiet demeanour lies a wealth of knowledge and a genuine enthusiasm for the things he loves. The connection you share through your shared interest in books is a testament to the richness of human connection and the beauty of discovering common ground with someone you might not have expected. It's a reminder that there's always more to uncover about the people around you, and that even the quietest among us can hold hidden depths waiting to be explored.

Immersed in the creative haven of your bedroom, you find comfort in the rhythmic strokes of your pencil against the textured paper. For the past week, you have poured your heart and soul into a meticulously crafted drawing of your eight friends, their features coming to life with each delicate line and shading. It has become your labour of love, a tribute to the cherished connections you've formed with each of them. As melodic tunes echo through the room from a speaker perched on your desk, the dulcet melodies provide a gentle backdrop to your artistic activities. The song, suggested by Woo himself, serves as a bridge, connecting your creative energy with the vibrations of the soundscape. You find yourself instinctively bobbing your head in time to the rhythm, your body swaying with harmony.

However, the tranquillity is abruptly shattered as the front door slams shut, the unexpected noise jolting you from your reverie. Your heart skips a beat, a surge of both dismay and fear coursing through your veins. The unmistakable thudding of footsteps echoes up the stairs, sending a shiver down your spine. It is your father's arrival, a presence that always harbours an air of tension and unpredictability.

With nimble urgency, you reach over to the speaker and swiftly silence the music, plunging the room into a weighted silence. The absence of melodies only amplifies the unease that lingers in the air, adding an oppressive weight to the atmosphere. Your sanctuary, once filled with the joyous sounds of music, is now stifled by the solemn hush that envelops it.

A palpable tension fills the room as you desperately hope for a stroke of luck, silently pleading for your father to bypass your closed door, his footsteps continuing down the hall to his own room. In the stillness of the moment, you remain frozen, your very breath restrained in anticipation.

But, as fate would have it, luck turns a deaf ear to your silent wishes. The door creaks open, swinging inward with a reluctant motion, revealing the formidable figure of your father standing on the threshold. His presence alone fills the room with an air of trepidation, his imposing stature and crossed arms creating an impenetrable barrier that demands attention.

Struggling to maintain his balance, you notice the slight wobble in his stance, a sign of the tumultuous emotions that brew within him. His arms remain tightly folded over his chest; a physical shield that matches the sternness etched onto his face. The weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding, seems to pierce through the silence, weighing heavily upon the room and those within it. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety coalesces within you, causing your heart to race in your chest. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as if any attempt at conversation might trigger an unexpected tempest. You hold your breath, awaiting the next move, your entire being poised on a precipice of hesitation.

“What are you doing?” He questions, his voice slurred and unclear.

“Drawing,” With a sense of urgency, you respond hastily, your words chosen carefully to minimise any potential escalation. The desire to avoid the volatile whirlwind of his unpredictable moods propels you to seek a rapid conclusion to the interaction, hoping that your brief responses will prevent the conversation from lingering any longer than necessary. The burdensome weight of the situation and the fatigue that grips your spirit urge you to retreat, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous presence of your father. You are caught off guard by your father's presence and the disconcerting aura surrounding him, you find yourself yearning for a swift end to the interaction. Your own emotions, a mix of weariness and apprehension, compel you to seek an expedited resolution. The weight of his unpredictable and volatile emotions, amplified by the telltale signs of his consumption of alcohol, looms heavily in the room, intensifying your desire to disengage from the conversation.

“When are your exams?” The man asks as he stumbles into your room, clearly fumbling around on his feet, unable to find balance on his feet, very clearly a side effect of the heavy consumption of alcohol.

“Next month.”

A wave of unease washes over you as your father's brow furrows once more, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. The subtle creases on his forehead deepen, forming a stark contrast against the lines of tension etched upon his face. At that moment, your heart sinks, a heavy weight settling in the pit of your stomach. The intensity of his displeasure, evident in the way his features contort, sends a surge of apprehension through your veins. Your own emotions waver on a cliff, poised between a desire to appease and a need to protect yourself from the potential fallout. As his annoyance penetrates the room, you brace yourself for what may come next, keenly aware of the precarious nature of your current situation.

“Then you should be studying.” He booms, his voice echoing off the walls of your small bedroom.

“I was going to study when I finish this.”

“Do not back talk to me.” The sound of your father's voice reverberates through the room, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Avoiding direct eye contact, you shift your gaze downwards, unable to bear the intensity of his drunken rage. The urge to roll your eyes at his exaggerated and unjustified behaviour becomes nearly irresistible, as you struggle to comprehend why he is directing his anger at you for such a trivial matter. A sense of exasperation builds within you, fuelled by the stark contrast between the magnitude of his reaction and the insignificance of the situation at hand. The weight of his misplaced frustration leaves you bewildered, questioning the logic behind his anger. It feels like an unwarranted attack on your being, leaving you grappling with a mix of resentment and confusion. Yet, mindful of the volatile nature of the situation, you tamp down your instinctive response. Instead, you silently navigate the treacherous waters, attempting to maintain composure and seeking a swift resolution to this senseless confrontation.

“I’m sorry.” In a desperate attempt to defuse the escalating tension, you respond, your words laced with a mix of pleading and a longing for tranquillity. Your desire to return to the serene solace of your artistic endeavours intensifies, fuelling your efforts to restore a sense of calm. However, your heart lurches upward, lodging itself in your throat, as your father takes a step closer, intruding upon your personal space. A shiver snakes its way down your spine as his hand reaches out, settling heavily on the back of your neck. The weight of his touch feels oppressive, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Fear dances within your veins, mingling with a sense of vulnerability. The boundaries that should protect you have been violated, leaving you acutely aware of your powerlessness at this moment. Your instinctive longing for escape intensifies, urging you to seek refuge from this dangerous environment and the touch that sends chills down your spine.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” Your father's whispered words cut through the air, a chilling undertone accompanying them, as his nails dig into the delicate skin of your neck. The sharp pain shoots through your body, an unwelcome reminder of the power imbalance in this unsettling encounter. Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a mixture of pain and anxiety churns within your chest, constricting your throat. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, intensifying the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that envelopes you. The weight of his grip and the raw discomfort that courses through your body serves as a stark reminder of the control he applies, amplifying the helplessness that grips your being. You yearn for release from this distressing moment, desperately seeking an escape from his oppressive presence and the escalating pain that continues to coil around you.

A lump forms in your throat, constricting your voice as you manage to summon a weak response, uttering a subdued, "Yes, Dad." The weight of fear and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, making it difficult to find the strength to speak or express yourself fully.

The knowledge of past experiences with your father looms in your mind, serving as a reminder of the potential consequences that could follow even the slightest provocation. The disparity between the magnitude of his reaction and the seemingly insignificant trigger leaves you confused, the fear of setting off his anger further stifling your genuine thoughts and feelings. The urge to voice your true thoughts, to stand up for yourself, simmers within, but the fear that accompanies it serves as a heavy muzzle, silencing the words you long to say. In this suffocating atmosphere, you decide to bite your tongue, for now, choosing self-preservation over the risk of inciting his explosive rage.

“What is this shit?” Your father's voice cuts through the air with a biting edge, his disdain is evident as he questions the worth of your drawing. His harsh gaze fixated upon the paper on your desk, the discarded pencil serving as a silent witness to his disapproval.

“Just something I’m working on.” In an attempt to diffuse the situation, you reply with a hint of defensiveness, your words laced with an eagerness for him to cease his interrogation and retreat from your sanctuary. The desperate plea for him to leave you be, to preserve the sanctity of your safe space, hangs heavily in the air between you.

As he snatches the sketchbook from the desk, your nerves intensify, your pulse quickening as his scrutinising eyes peruse the paper. The tension in the room becomes almost suffocating, amplifying your anxiety to new heights.

“Who is this?” His bitter and slurred voice reverberates, the words barely coherent.

Fear floods your veins, and knowing the truth would lead to misunderstanding and potential danger. Hastily, you weave a web of lies, your words rushed and unsteady, hoping to divert his attention away from the genuine connection you share with the boys.

The man's anger escalates, his words morphing into a piercing yell that reverberates within the confines of the room. The intensity of his outburst pierces your ears, each syllable hammering into your consciousness. The weight of his disdain for your artistic talent lands heavily upon your heart, his belittlement serving as a painful reminder of the limitations he imposes upon your aspirations.

Panic grips you as your father's hand inches closer to the paper, and a sense of dread fills every fibre of your being as you realise his malicious intentions. Frantically, you reach out in a futile attempt to stop him, but your efforts prove futile as he ruthlessly rips the page from the book, tearing it down the middle. Tears well up in your eyes as a profound sense of disappointment and pain courses through your body, your hard work treated with callous disregard, tossed aside as if it were nothing. With a surge of determination, you rise from your chair, driven by an instinct to protect what remains of your creation. However, your resistance is met with ruthless force as your father forcefully pushes your body, causing you to crash onto the floor, the impact jolting through your hip and radiating pain throughout your entire being. The anguish of your shattered artwork pales in comparison to the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon you at this moment.

As you lie on the floor, a broken mess of tears and anguish, your father's rage reaches new heights. He towers over you, his face contorted with anger, grabbing the back of your head painfully once again. The proximity of his enraged face leaves you trembling, his piercing scream reverberating through your ears, assaulting your senses with an intensity that feels unbearable. In this horrifying moment, you are forced to confront the painful reality of his control, the overwhelming weight of his anger eclipsing any semblance of safety or peace.

“If I ever see you sketching again, I will not be as forgiving.” Spit flies from your father’s mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol, making you even more disgusted. Tears fall freely from your eyes as you try to maintain your composure, so as to not enrage the man even further. Your father continues his words, “Clean this mess up. I’m going to sleep.”

With an abrupt exit, the man stumbles out of your room, his unsteady footsteps resounding on the wooden floor, echoing the turmoil that lingers in his wake. You can only surmise that he retreats to his own bedroom, likely collapsing onto the bed in a drunken slumber. The abruptness of his departure offers a temporary respite, but the emotional scars and residual fear remain, haunting the air within your room. Weeping silently, your trembling hands pressed against your face, you struggle to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threaten to overcome you. In the midst of your despair, you survey the scattered remnants of your destroyed drawing, yearning for a miracle that would restore it to its former glory. Each torn piece becomes a painful reminder of the shattered gift intended for your only friends.

With shaky resolve, you begin the arduous task of collecting the fragmented remnants, moving them from the floor to the bin next to your desk. Each movement brings fresh waves of tears, your heart aching at the irreparable loss of the heartfelt gesture. The realisation that the memento meant to convey your appreciation and friendship now lies in ruins only amplifies your sense of devastation. As you meticulously dispose of the torn pieces, your tears fall even harder, tracing a sorrowful path down your cheeks. The weight of the ruined gift presses upon your soul, a profound sense of loss mingling with the lingering pain of the recent encounter. In this moment of vulnerability, you find solace in your tears, allowing yourself to grieve the destruction of your artistic expression and the shattered connection it represented.

As the silence envelops the house, you breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the man who instils such terror within you is finally lost in the depths of sleep. Drawing strength back into your trembling legs, you hastily slip on your shoes, a desperate urgency compelling you to escape the confines of the place you dread most.

Stealthily, you navigate the familiar hallways, your movements shrouded in silence, driven by an intense need to distance yourself from the haunting presence that lingers within those walls. The weight of your fear propels you forward, guiding your steps towards an uncertain destination.

In your frantic search for solace, you find yourself stumbling upon the empty warehouse, its vast expanse providing a sense of respite and comfort that you yearn for. Though devoid of human presence, you know deep within your soul that the very atmosphere within this cavernous space will envelop you, granting a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you.

Stepping into the familiar warehouse, the sound of the large metal doors scraping against the concrete floor reverberates through the cavernous space, creating a symphony of echoes that dance along the walls. The rhythmic noise seems to announce your entrance as if beckoning invisible spectators to witness your raw vulnerability. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness, the absence of your friends accentuates the solitude that envelops you, amplifying the bittersweet comfort of this cherished sanctuary.

Staggering towards the worn-out couch, its faded fabric hinting at the countless memories shared upon its cushions, you allow your body to collapse into its familiar embrace. The soft cushions yield beneath your weight, conforming to the contours of your tired form. You lay down sideways, finding comfort in the familiar haven that holds so many cherished moments. The tears flow freely from your eyes, tracing glistening paths down your cheeks, as if the very fabric of the pillow beneath your head absorbs the weight of your sorrow. Every sob that escapes your trembling lips reverberates within the expansive metal room, each one a witness to the depth of your pain. The echoes reverberate through the space, intertwining with the ethereal remnants of laughter and friendship that have painted the walls with a subtle warmth. The traumatic event that has left you bruised and broken resonates within the vastness of the room, its hollowness a haunting backdrop to your vulnerability.

Time becomes a fluid concept as you lose yourself in the catharsis of your tears. The exhaustion weighs upon you like an invisible burden, the weight of the world pressing down upon your weary shoulders. Each sob drains your energy, leaving your eyelids heavy and your body craving a respite from the relentless ache. Gradually, the exhaustion takes hold, its grasp tightening around your consciousness. The drowsiness seeps into every fibre of your being, your mind and body surrendering to the lullaby of weariness. As the golden rays of the setting sun filter through the cracks in the metal walls, casting an ethereal glow upon your tear-stained face, sleep claims you, offering a temporary escape from the harsh realities that haunt your waking hours.

As the coils of sleep begin to loosen their grip on your consciousness, you are jolted awake by the sensation of being gently shaken. Blinking groggily, you try to push away from the source of the disturbance, a low groan escaping your lips. To your surprise, the sound is met with a soft chuckle, a deep voice calling your name with tenderness. A hand comes to rest on your head, its touch gentle and soothing, patting you in a comforting rhythm.

Startled, your heart skips a beat, your body tensing at the unexpected touch. The fear of encountering your father floods your mind, sending waves of anxiety coursing through your veins. In a swift motion, you sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, your eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the warehouse. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, and when it does, you realise that you are still in the familiar confines of the warehouse, resting on the worn-out couch. The realisation washes over you, relief mingling with lingering fearfulness.

Peering around, you notice that darkness has descended upon the space, replacing the golden hues of the setting sun with a blanket of shadow. It dawns on you that you must have been asleep for several hours, the passage of time slipping by unnoticed as fatigue overcomes you. Your gaze then falls upon the source of your awakening, the boy known as 'Yu,' crouched on the floor before the couch. His soft grin illuminates his features, his dishevelled brown hair partially hiding his eyes, his cheeks adorned with a gentle blush.

“Are you okay? What are you doing sleeping here?” Yu asks, looking you tenderly in your eyes, causing your heart to flip in circles.

“I needed to get away from some stuff.” You answer truthfully, not being able to find the strength to lie to the boy in front of you.

As Yu's concerned gaze meets yours, the worry etched on his face, the smile that had adorned his features fades away. The depth of your distress is evident to him, and he can sense the heaviness that weighs upon your weary soul. It's as if he can see through the facade you wear, peering into the depths of your eyes to witness the pain and exhaustion that lies within.

At this moment, any trace of anger or frustration that had accompanied him to the warehouse dissipates entirely, replaced by a newfound tenderness and empathy. He is drawn to you, compelled to offer comfort and relief in the face of your evident struggle. Moving closer, his larger hand finds its way to rest gently atop yours, a gesture that sends a cascade of butterflies fluttering within your stomach. The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin, offering a respite from the coldness that had entered the warehouse. It's a simple act, but it carries a profound weight, communicating a silent message of support and understanding. In this shared moment of vulnerability, you feel a glimmer of hope and connection, as if a lifeline has been extended to you in the midst of your despair.

“What happened, Tiny?”

The nickname was bestowed upon you by the boys when you first joined their group, a playful teasing inspired by the absolute height difference between you and Yu. It quickly became a term of endearment that all eight adopted, using it to address you with affectionate familiarity. However, at this moment, as Yu's tenderness envelopes you, the meaning behind the nickname takes on a new layer of complexity, evoking emotions that elude your grasp. It's an unfamiliar sensation for Yu to display such genuine care towards you, considering his infatuation with another girl that has kept him at a distance. Yet, at this moment, you can't help but yearn for his tender presence to be a constant, for him to act as if no other girl holds his attention. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, torn between the desire to keep this fragile connection intact and the fear of revealing the recent traumatic events that unfolded hours ago, uncertain of how Yu would react.

Your attention shifts to where your hands meet, and your heart lurches at the sight of gashes and blood staining Yu's knuckles. Concern overtakes you, the worry carved upon your features as you contemplate the cause of his injuries. Questions buzz in your mind, begging to be asked, but the fear of intruding upon his personal struggles holds you back. The realisation that pain has marked his hands, mirroring the pain that has scarred your own being, intensifies your sense of worry and empathy.

In this delicate moment, a silent exchange of emotions hangs in the air, unspoken words lingering between you. The weight of unspoken truths and shared vulnerabilities creates a bond that is both fragile and powerful, leaving you uncertain of what course of action to take next.

“What happened to your hand?” you inquire, pulling his hand into your lap, and observing the wounds on his pretty hands.

Peering up at Yu, concern etched across your features, his heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It's a feeling he struggles to decipher, a gentle tug that seems to pull at the depths of his being. His eyes lock with yours, and at that moment, time seems to stand still as he finds himself captivated by the curiosity and vulnerability reflected in your gaze. There's a tenderness in Yu's eyes, an almost loving quality as he studies your appearance. His gaze lingers on your swollen eyes, evidence of the tears you've shed and the burden you've carried. The worry radiates from him, manifesting as a protective instinct that seeks to shield you from further pain. It's a sentiment that surprises even him, the depth of his concern far surpassing the bounds of friendship.

In this silent exchange, a subtle shift occurs within Yu, as if the barriers he had carefully constructed around his emotions begin to crumble. The walls he had built to guard his heart start to crack, allowing a glimmer of something deeper to emerge. Though he may not fully understand the extent of his own feelings, the way his gaze lingers on you with tenderness and compassion speaks volumes.

In this moment, a connection forms, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. It's as if a silent agreement is forged, promising support and comfort amidst the challenges you both face. The weight of unspoken words and shared empathy fills the space between you, laying the foundation for something more profound and transformative.

“Have you been crying?” His voice is gentle and calming, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable by the inquiry, wishing for you to answer.

“Why is your hand hurt?” you retort, his hand still resting in your lap, you trying to wipe away stray pieces of dirt in the cuts. Your hand lingers atop Yu's, a gentle touch that he usually guards against, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he allows you to maintain the contact. It's a rare occurrence for him to let others freely touch him, his personal boundaries carefully shielded. Yet, at this moment, he feels a sense of comfort and acceptance in your touch, as if a barrier he didn't know existed has been effortlessly breached.

The surprise intensifies as he realises that he enjoys the sensation of your hand resting upon his, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of connection that he hadn't anticipated. There's a certain serenity in your presence, a quiet assurance that draws him in, inviting him to let down his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable. His gaze remains fixated on you, his attention solely focused on your interaction. The world around him seems to fade into the background as he becomes absorbed in this shared moment, his own emotions swirling within. It's unfamiliar territory, one he hadn't expected to find himself in, yet he can't deny the pull that you exert upon him, the magnetic force of your presence.

In this newfound vulnerability, Yu begins to question his own reservations and the walls he has built around himself. Your touch, your unwavering attention, opens up a space where he can explore and discover a different side of himself, one that embraces connection and allows himself to be seen. Hands remaining touching, a silent understanding passes between you, unspoken words painting the canvas of this intimate moment. The depth of your connection holds the promise of something extraordinary, an exploration of emotions and possibilities that neither of you could have foreseen.

“I asked first.” Yu teases, trying to lift the mood, wanting to see the smile he has grown to adore appear on your features.

“I don’t want to bother you.” You reply, your voice shaky and quiet, answering truthfully, not sure if he would be able to handle the information you so desperately need to disclose to someone.

“You never bother me,” As Yu contemplates his next move, a surge of courage courses through him. Without hesitation, he uses the hand that rests in your lap, gently interlocking his fingers with yours. He takes care to avoid smudging his dried blood on you or your clothes, a subtle gesture of consideration that doesn't go unnoticed.

The unexpected act of affection catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. Heat rises to your cheeks, a blush betraying the fluttering emotions that swirl within you. You meet Yu's gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that resonates deeply. A small smile graces his lips, a wordless reassurance that speaks volumes. In this simple gesture, he communicates a willingness to bridge the gap between you, to traverse the uncertain territory of shared vulnerability. It's a brave step forward, an offering of trust and a declaration of his sudden growing feelings.

“It’s okay, ___.” Yu whispers, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as his words become more serious, “You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you decide maybe it is okay to confide in one person.

“It’s my dad.” You admit, looking down at the hand that Yu has gripped gently in his own, his fingers wrapped around your smaller hand. Yu gives you a puzzled look, not sure what your father could have done to make you so upset. Noticing his confused expression, you continue speaking, “It is dumb, but I was working on this drawing, and he came in drunk out of his mind and started yelling at me for not studying,”

“Hold on, he was drunk?” Yu questions, starting to feel anger build up in his body.

“Yeah, but when is he not.” You attempt to joke, yet the look on Yu’s face doesn’t look amused, causing you to sigh gently, “he ripped up the drawing in front of my face and said if he ever sees me drawing again, he ‘won’t be as forgiving’, whatever that means,” you mumble, the weight of vulnerability settling upon you, you become highly aware of the depth of the information you have just shared.

A sense of unease and apprehension begins to gnaw at your insides, uncertain of how Yu will react to this newfound revelation. The silence that follows is deafening, and you can't help but lift your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes.

What you see takes you by surprise, an expression of absolute disbelief etched across Yu's features. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find the words to respond. The moment hangs suspended in time, the tension thickening the air between you. Questions swirl in your mind, uncertainty threatening to unravel the fragile connection that has been forged. Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over the vulnerability you have exposed. You find yourself questioning the wisdom of sharing such intimate feelings, fearing the potential repercussions it may have on your friendship. In this charged moment, the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for Yu's reaction. The uncertainty weighs heavily upon you, your heart pounding in your chest as you anxiously await his response.

Preparing to question the impact of your confession on Yu, your words catch in your throat, suspended by the sudden movement of his embrace. In a swift motion, he pulls you towards him, enveloping your body in a tight hug that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your head is gently guided to rest in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. His hand finds its place on the back of your head, his fingers tenderly stroking your hair with a soothing rhythm. Yu's sensitivity to your tense form prompts a fleeting hesitation within him, a flicker of uncertainty about having crossed a boundary or making you uncomfortable. But when he feels your entire body relax and melt into his embrace, a surge of emotions courses through him. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, swelling with a feeling akin to absolute adoration. It's a moment of defencelessness and connection that surpasses words, forging a bond between you that almost feels unbreakable.

In response to his comforting presence, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace. Nestling into the curve of his neck, you revel in the sensation of being held, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you in the present moment. Yu adjusts his position, rising to sit on his knees and drawing himself even closer to your body. Your chests align, rising and falling in synchrony, as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens around you, afraid that you might vanish from his embrace.

In this intimate cocoon, it becomes clear that you weren't the only one in need of a hug. The mutual longing for comfort and reassurance binds you together, transcending the complexities of your individual experiences. In this tender moment of shared vulnerability, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence, the solace of a genuine connection, and the promise of healing.

Basking in the comfort of Yu's embrace, time seems to suspend, creating a sanctuary where worries and troubles momentarily fade away. However, your heart sinks when you feel him slowly pull away, a pang of disappointment seeping through your being. Yet, his hand continues to stroke the back of your head, his touch lingering, serving as a reminder of the tenderness you experienced.

Meeting his gaze, locking eyes with him, and at that moment, the connection between you deepens. It's as if the world around you dims, leaving only the intensity of his brown eyes that seem to hold a universe of emotions. Every fibre of your being is drawn to him, falling deeper into a feeling you've been trying to resist.

A hint of reluctance lingers in Yu's actions as he clears his throat, a signal that the intimate moment must come to an end. He slowly removes himself from your embrace, settling back into his previous position. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on you, unyielding and intense, as if he's afraid to look away, afraid to lose the connection that has formed. You find yourself lost in his gaze, a swirl of feelings and unspoken words passing between you. There's a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that something profound has transpired between you. It's a delicate dance of emotions, a dance that neither of you can fully comprehend but are unwilling to let go.

In this halted moment, the air crackles with anticipation, as if the next words spoken could alter the course of your relationship forever. The intensity in Yu's eyes speaks volumes, a testament to the depth of the bond that has formed between you.

“If something like this happens again, please let me know,” Yu says, breaking the silence, his voice serious, needing to protect you from whatever your father could possibly do in the future.

A meek smile graces your lips, an expression of gratitude that conveys more than words ever could. Deep within, you carry the weight of unspoken pain and secrets, understanding that some experiences are difficult to share, especially the ones involving your father. You appreciate Yu's offer of support, even though you know you can't burden him with the full extent of what you've endured.

In this moment of silent acknowledgement, you convey a deep sense of gratitude for his presence, for the solace he has unknowingly offered. It's a silent understanding that goes beyond words, a recognition of the unspoken connection between you. Despite the barriers that may exist, you find solace in knowing that there is someone who cares, someone willing to extend a helping hand.

“Now your turn.” You exclaim, causing Yu to give you a confused look, “Your hand. What happened?”

Yu lets out a sound of realisation, his expression matching it. Looking down at the gashes in his hands, Yu makes an expression similar to embarrassment.

“I got in a fight,” Yu explains, his cheeks heating up, realising you might be disappointed in him.

“Another? Why now?” You question, your voice is soft and caring, making him realise you aren’t upset at him, just worried, making his heart warm slightly, despite the war and heartbreak going throughout his entire body.

“The girl that Yeo and I used to like… she has said some stuff, some stuff that isn’t true. It’s tearing us apart, all of us.” Yu’s voice is shaky, and you can tell he is deeply affected by the circumstances.

Immediately, your interest is piqued, and concern envelops your being, you can't help but wonder what could have been said by the girl to have such a profound impact on Yu and the entire group. The realisation that her words have caused a collective breakdown weighs heavily on your mind, triggering a surge of curiosity and a deeper level of concern. Thoughts whirl through your head, seeking answers and understanding. What could she have revealed that shattered their spirits? What truths or revelations could have struck a chord so deeply? You can't help but ponder the significance of her words and the implications they hold for your friends and their emotional well-being.

In the midst of your thoughts, a mix of emotions floods your being, concern, empathy, and a deep desire to alleviate their pain. The bond between you and the group becomes even more heartrending, a reminder of the connection of your lives and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity.

“What did she say?” You question, your hand coming to rest on his like he did earlier.

“She said we laid our hands on her, we hurt her, physically, sexually. But I swear on everything, I have never put my hands on her, on anyone. None of us have, we have only ever acted in self-defence. I don’t know why all of a sudden, she is making up these stories. It is tearing us apart. Every single person believes her, they are coming after us, with their fists. Someone tried to come at Captain and I with a baseball bat, and it’s terrifying us, we don’t know what to do.”

“Wait what?” Your voice trembles with a mixture of shock and disbelief as you contemplate why this girl would suddenly feel the need to falsely accuse the boys you have grown so close to. In the time you've spent with them, you have come to know each of them as kind-hearted individuals, devoid of aggression or abusive tendencies. Your experiences with them have left a deep imprint, and you find it unfathomable to believe that any of them would ever lay a hand on someone, especially a woman.

The weight of this accusation hangs heavily in the air, and you struggle to reconcile the image of your friends with the words that have been spoken. It feels like a betrayal, not just to them but to the bond you have formed, as your faith in their character and integrity is steadfast. The disbelief fuels a surge of protectiveness and a fierce desire to defend them against these baseless accusations.

When Yu raises his gaze to meet yours, the shimmering tears threatening to escape, your heart aches with empathy and compassion. The vulnerability etched across his face mirrors your own inner turmoil, as you share a profound connection and a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. At that moment, your heart breaks for him and for the rest of the group, as you witness the weight of their pain and the unjust burden they must bear.

“I don’t know why this is happening, or why she said it was all of us. Only Yeo and I have spent time with her, she has never even met the boys. Plus, we haven’t seen her in over two months, she said it happened last month. It makes no sense.”

“Yu, if it’s not true then you do not have to worry about anything. It will get sorted, okay? You are innocent.” All you can do is bring the man into your arms once again, this time letting him weep into your shoulder, his body limp against yours. It breaks your heart to see him so vulnerable, so broken because of deadly rumours.

“We will get this sorted, Yu. I promise.”

------

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finniestoncrane · 4 months ago

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Hello Finnie...

Curious...how do you think the rougues would talk to someone who is facing having to move back in with their parents at age 30 due to financial/personal reasons after years of living independently and their self esteem is taking a mahoosive hit 🙃🙃🙃

(I know it's becoming increasingly common nowadays due to cost of living but still...😣)

Asking for a friend...👀

Rogues Headcanons aw anon i feel you, there's nothing like a perceived setback to knock your self-confidence HOWEVER i think you're just being a little harsh on yourself, since you know that it's super common!! but you still deserve comfort and encouragement, and i apologise for how completely sappy i was with this lol 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff, and sickeningly sweet sentiments i hope!!

two face

i think every rogue can say they've suffered setbacks, but none like harvey

by all accounts he was living the perfect life, doing exactly what he wanted to

and then everything kind of crumbled, and he lost it all

but he built himself back up (albeit... maybe on the wrong side of morality depending on the coin flip)

so he considers himself a figure of encouragement to you!!

and he's also gruffly reminding you that self-esteem can be rebuilt

little by little, piece by piece

whether you feel like you're moving "back" or not

you can start fresh and new

scarecrow

his suggestion is a little less than helpful

mostly because his solution to his own financial issues were to... rob people while wearing a costume

and if you want to go down that route he is MORE than happy to help

but if you want to be sensible about it, he can offer support

someone to listen to you while you talk it all out

and he promises he won't psychoanalyse you too much

or talk in his therapist voice

but if after all that you're still lost, he has extra straw and fabric

poison ivy

is your parent's home like a garden? is it nurturing and safe, with a balanced ph level? do you feel comfortable and familiar?

is your parent's home like an unattended back patio made of slabs? cracks with grass? minimal space to thrive?

either way, plants will grow and plants will live

nature pushes on!! and little flowers take pride in pushing their heads up, their stems stretched

to see everything that's good beyond the things that seem so close and current

and with a little help from her, anyone can grow and become their best self, even if they've been uprooted

mad hatter

nothing in this world is perfect, and nothing goes according to plan

trust him, he knows that. he has experience in that. plenty of it

but you have to believe that it's an integral part to your story

what good would alice in wonderland have been if there had been no conflict

if she hadn't been forced to learn about herself, to undergo traumas and difficulties

all in order to get home, which she did

and you will too! he knows you have a happy ending waiting, your own wonderland to get to as a reward

bane

he's never really known a home, so to him it's actually a nice idea

you've got a backup, a safety net

and yeah, you might never have wanted to use it

but it's never a bad thing to know there's another option

and it takes strength to ask for help, and even more to accept it

and while he's pretty sure he's strong enough physically to do most things

even he has to admire the emotional strength it takes to do what you're doing

so he's giving you a pat on the back and reminding you that things could always be worse

(and that pat on the back might cause bruising)

penguin

what do you need? you need money? you need a place to stay?

he'd be offering it all up to you immediately

what good is money if he can't throw it at his favourite people

keeps them under his thumb, yknow? if they own him one

so yeah it might be a favour he'll call you out on eventually

but rest assured he's not thinking of anything else but "how can i help" and "what do you need/want"

far before he'd make any judgements

it's hard to get where you want in life, he knows that very well

zsasz

have you thought about straight up just murdering everyone?

he's kiding, he's kidding!!

besides, that's his thing. don't steal his thing, or you'll end up as a little tally mark on his skin

HOWEVER his advice would be to find something to focus on that takes your mind off of the perceived negatives

it doesn't have to be wiping out humanity in a nihilistic rampage

it can be anything!! and saving some money on rent and having the comfort of home might be all you need to find something new to become skilled at

just as long as it's not murder!!

mr freeze

it might feel like you're losing something, but there's always something to be gained too

and you never really lose what you had, because it lives on in memories and hopes

it stays with you in your plans for the future, in your dreams of what you want when you get back on your feet

or in his case, frozen in time in a glass tube

not lost, just temporarily out of reach

but he's a vehement believer in perseverance and never losing hope!!

you'll both have what you want soon enough, whether that's something new or gaining what you had

riddler

i won't lie i think he's the most likely to turn his nose up at you

like what do you mean there were unforeseen events that you weren't prepared for?

you didn't have 1588729 backup plans, one of which was for that exact chain of events!?

foolish of you really, though he will concede that not everyone has the brain power to strategise like that

in fact, it really is only him who can... so maybe he should lay off

and offer you some comfort instead, since the thought of having to move in with his parents...

well, it literally terrifies him

harley quinn

listen, she's no stranger to "set backs" in your plans

she's had everything taken from her!!

freedom, lovers, career plans (both respectable and criminal)

but she bounces back! and not just because she's a gymnast

(and also deeply out of touch with the trauma it all caused her)

but she manages it because she believes it'll all get better

and it'll all work out

and she believes that for you too!!

63 notes · View notes

coveholdenmyluv · 5 months ago

Text

I. Midoriya - New Beginnings

Synopsis. Stained and calloused, the commission has nurtured your palms into silent artillery and trained you to fight the wolves they throw you in with. Not at all accounting for the possibility that you too might learn to bite the hand that feeds you.

Or alternatively - in which the Hero Commission recruits YOU to go undercover as a student in UA to keep a certain class, who already seems to be a magnet for trouble, in check...

It's safe to say you get a little more than what your briefing covered.

A story of the finding of self love, a family, and a new beginning.

Series masterlist.

Chapter warnings. emotional manipulation, minor death, this is sort of a set up chapter?, kind of a long chapter, the latter half is very chill. pls read prologue first!

Chapter synopsis. You’ve been summoned to the HPSC headquarters! Hopefully they’re planning on giving you that vacation you dream of.

1| Only in Our Dreams. 10.9K words

"Mercy, please! I swear, we meant no harm. It was just for some extra cash, I've got my girls at home!"

The man cowered near the back wall as you intimidatingly stepped towards his hunched position. The leisure steps you took barely made much noise at all, yet the soft pats of your boots were deafening. His whimpers reached their maximum volume when the soles of your feet came into contact with a limp limb laying on the concrete, and his head flew every which way to gaze at the lifeless bodies of his companions strewn around him.

He feared to meet the same fate.

"Do they have a mother?"

"No!" The man shrieks, "That's the reason that I'm doing what I'm doing. I just want to give them a better life." He explains honestly. "I've barely even found a babysitter, I've got my ma watching them!"

You chuckled bitterly at his justification - instantaneous hysteria that you've heard countless times before.

"Illegal drug trafficking, right? How's that working out for you and your girls?" You asked in a sneering manner, to which he simply sputtered as he struggled to elucidate any further. "I've gotta say, you're good at what you do. The police are having a hard time tracking you down. But of course, your little side hustle has been causing the citizens in Kyushu to grow rampant. The heroes based in the area are beginning to go into overtime, thus leaving them tired and malnourished. We can't have our dutiful saviors walking around enervated, can we?" Your right palm lifts into the air and a crisp chill invades your palm whilst the radiant gleam of your dainty sun mark begins to swell.

"No, please! My girls- You're a hero aren't cha'? You can't- you wouldn't!" He squeals and squirms as you corner him. His eyes gape at you in horror and look to nearly burst out of their sockets as his pitiful cries reach their peak.

"Your girls will be better off with your ma." You state as your palm draws near his face. "Scum needs to be dealt with, you understand, don't you? This is for the good of our cause."You rasp, steeling yourself to proceed with the actions that will surely haunt you until the moment you reach your deathbed composed of wilting and withering black dahlias.

"You're no hero, you're the devil incarnate. An angel of death! You'll get what's coming to you, Aeron. Mark my words, I'll be cheering for your downfall from hell-" He begins, only for his ardent proclamations to dwindle in their power as your palm finally makes contact with his rugged skin.

You watch as his limbs go limp, surveying his body for the telltale signs of the remaining life to dispel. Though, those aren't what notify you of your completed mission, instead it's the warm draft that floods your body and inhabits every crevice available.

The feeling is supposed to invigorate you, supposed to bring forth newly born vitality, but in reality it makes you nauseous to the point where you yearn to clutch that wretched right palm onto your lips.

"Go ahead and save me a spot then. If those are the consequences of fulfilling my purpose, then so be it." Your excruciating voice grinds out. You can nearly taste the bile adhering to the walls of your throat, forcing your retreating hand to clutch into a fist and fingernails to pierce into the skin of your palm.

Nausea.

You hate the rising feeling of nausea - with nausea comes profuse perspiration, retching, dyspnea, and remorse.

Your line of work bears no room for penitence.

With corpulent and dense inhalations, you gather your bearings to go forth with the completion of your mission. Slipping your cell phone out of the pouch strapped to your waist, you dial the numbers ingrained into your muscle memory - carved and sealed with cement into your bones.

"Assignment fulfilled. Another clean job." You state in a low tone into the speaker.

"Nothing but the bodies is being left behind, correct?"

"Affirmative. Not an ounce of blood spilt."

"Heavenly. Flawless work once again, Aeron. Attain the photos and head west once more. We have more to discuss, my dear."

"Roger that, ma'am. Arrival time should be soon, expect my appearance at ten past eleven hundred."

"Noted. You've done us well, hero."

The long tone indicating the call had ended allows the knot in your chest to lessen its grip and release the breath you hadn't quite heeded before. The hand clutching your phone lowers itself to your side as the corner of your lips soften and warmth fills the apples of your cheeks. The crease to your brow alleviates and you can feel the effect the praise has on your conduct.

It's almost pathetic how easily your nausea fades at the approval the woman expresses for your actions.

After you comply to your post mission orders, you make your way to the vehicle delegated to take you to and from your superiors. There, a very much not unexpected ring tone chimes in your ears.

"Gooood morning!"

Your hand instinctively pulls the device away from your ear drums, a wince creasing your face. "Well, it was just a second ago." You grumble into the speaker.

"You left the house before I could tell you, punk. What did we say about wanting to start having breakfast together again?"

Your eyes soften and guilt paws at your insides at his reminder. "I know, I'm sorry. I had an early mission and didn't want to wake you. It was very last minute too." You explained.

"They aren't overworking you again, are they?"

"What? No, it's fine- I'm fine. It was an easy one today, so."

Keigo audibly sighed on the other end of the line, "I still don't like how all of your missions are classified. You'd think that I of all people would be spared some info, but alas, I guess I'm not trust worthy enough for that."

"Don't say that, it's just... different." You attempt to expound without unveiling what the commission deems as too much. Tip-toeing the edge of compromise and divulgence. "Besides, I'm never allowed any details pertaining most of your missions either. It'd be unfair if you were the sole exception. You're not as special as you think you are, Hawks." You subtly tease.

His buoyant guffaw resounds in the confined space of the cabin you sit in, forcing your lips to purse in amusement. "Ouch, I'd beg to differ." He retorts. "Anyway, where are you headed now? It sounds like you're in a car." He asks.

"Yeah, I'm heading west. Wish me luck. Do you think they're finally summoning me for that vacation time I requested? Bali sure is calling my name." You suggested sarcastically. In reality, you knew the notion was far too good to be true, though that never stopped you from entertaining the idea.

"Only in our dreams. Maybe if you told them you were going somewhere nearer than Indonesia? What about Honshu? Mount Fuji might be cool to see, right?"

You appreciated Keigo's willingness to join your wishful chants, even if it was all for naught. "Do you think it's possible to build a house directly on it?"

He laughs at your question and you can almost visualize the way he clutches his stomach, which he is definitely doing considering the slight wheezes you caught lingering in the sound. "No sane person would risk their life to live on a volcano, psycho." He berates.

You shrugged, "But, just imagine the view. Hell, even a home at the base would be divine." You suggested, telling yourself these were merely words, though deep down you know that some amount of truth laid hidden in the thick of their woods.

"Tell you what, in a couple of years we'll actually start looking into it. Who knows? Perhaps by some work of a miracle we'll be in a situation that allows exactly that by the upcoming." He offers, and a fond smile paints the skin of your lips as your eyes soften once again, though this time it was not because of grasping praise. This time, your cheeks filled with warmth at the thought of one day living in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but yourself and the man you see as your own blood. Well,him and Kitty. "By the way, I'm talking about the vacation thing, not the living in a volcano idea. That is suicidal."

"Only in our dreams, big bird." You sighed in resignation. "Anyway, how's Tsukuyomi doing?" You asked.

"He actually just walked into the office," He announced and you could hear the faint excited greeting he dealt the boy with upon his arrival. "We might head out on a patrol soon." He informed you, which you assume was his way of making the teen on the other side of the line aware of as well.

"Alright I'll let you go, but take the boy out for a walk along side you, at the very least. Don't leave him behind, you know he's the only one who genuinely still attempts to sustain the same pace as you." You reminded. The intern had expressed his annoyance with his lack of contribution towards any successful arrests during his time at the agency so far, and to be frank, you couldn't blame him. To most, Hawks moved too fast to be able to cooperate with properly.

The man also continued to claim that his interest in mentoring a student from UA was nothing short of a sudden change of heart, which you still don't quite believe. While your trust in him runs deep within your veins, with every passing day you grew more wary. Something in your instincts warns you that there has to be some underlying issue revolving the situation. An issue you wouldn't be surprised to be signed and dated by the Hero Public Safety Commission themselves.

But, you knew when not to pry.

"Yeah, yeah." He had begun to leisurely waft away your advice, before his tone of voice differed from any he had used in your entire short conversation. "Hey," The words he spoke next were low and dangerous.

"Be careful."

The leisure grip on your cell phone tightened, your fingers acting as the bars to the cell withholding the quiver of your lip, masking the trepidation creeping its way up your throat and replacing it with insouciance.

"Aye aye, captain."

Heavy footsteps coming from yourself and the guard behind you reverberated off of the long barren walls of the hollow hallways in the Heroes Public Safety Commission headquarters. The aroma that filled your nostrils was overbearing with the scent of recently used cleaning products and your dead dreams...

Okay, perhaps you were being a tad bit dramatic, but not without good reason!

Although you pledged your life to the commission's cause and would never dream of disobeying your saviors, you were still at the peak of your adolescence - with raging hormones that demanded an eye roll every fifteen minutes. Every time you trudged the same path down the abyss hallways, a minuscule portion of your soul would wither. It was not always like this, though as you aged, the officers that directed the trails that which your life would take grew bolder. So much so, that the last dozen twists and turns had left a sanguinary in their wake.

The exchange would go as such: you would receive the orders and complete them without error.

It's what you are a paragon at, obeying orders was a phenomenon that was drilled into you as a small child. These missions and interactions with the higher ups were meant to stay within the walls of this very building, meaning you couldn't even vent to the sole person that could possibly understand. Keigo was excellent at keeping the two of you in check for the public, while you were the perfect underlier pulling the strings to keep the public in check for the commission.

After all, it's what you were born for. The reason you were gifted with the quirk that you wield; your inherent purpose.

Knuckles meeting cold metal pulls you away from your thoughts, muscle memory working in your favor, having knocked on the slate grey door innumerable times before. It doesn't take long for it to be slid open by another man dressed identical to the one behind you. They donned all black attire bar the small pieces of armor in different locations of their body, presumably to better suit their specific quirks. Once all of the weapons strapped in various places on your body were removed and within the safe keeping of their arms, the guard behind you turned his stance to guard the door you stepped through.

Security doesn't abate for the higher ups anymore, not since the incident with the former chairman years ago.

The slight shuffle from the black boots of your hero costume announced your arrival. Near the wide windows and before the ash colored desk placed in the vacant room stood the woman you've acquainted yourself with since you were young. A woman well into her fifties dressed in a lilac pencil skirt, and matching button up with white heels, crossed her arms and upturned her nose well into the air at the sight of you. She had always done that, you presumed the reason was to assert her rightful place above you, something you found that you never minded and had coerced out a side of you that forced your own nose to face the ground in submission.

A man not too far behind her in age was also a ways away from her side, though you had never been in contact with him as you were with the woman. He sported light slicked back grey hair and a black suit, with a stern expression gracing his wrinkly features. You had met him over the years, but due to the strict rules of your earlier tutelage, you were never given the chance to interact with many other than the few you are still allowed to now in the present.

"Good morning, Aeron. Thank you for coming here on such short notice, and especially after a mission so well done." She spoke gently.

Aeron is who she spoke of, your hero name and the only moniker attached to you to exist. Whether she still remembers your birth name or not you were clueless of. The only person you knew of with that knowledge was Keigo, albeit even he only made use of it in the safety of your own home. Though he never failed to remind you he thought it suited you better than, 'Aeron, goddess of battle, slaughter, and war', chanting about how smoothly the name you were born with rolls off the tongue.

'Always the charmer, that one.' You reminisced with an affectionate smile.

"Good morning, Madam President. As always, I am glad to have been of aid to you and make it my duty to meet your expectations." You say as you bend over in a bow to present your respects.

"We're enrolling you into UA High." The man spoke curtly.

Sustaining your position while nodding your head, you reply, "Yes sir, UA High- wait what?!" You end with the raise of your head as you direct your shell shocked irises their way. The woman herself froze along with you, it seemed as if she was going to keep the small talk flowing before her intentions were thwarted. It was almost comical how large her turquoise eyes had widened. Standing upright, you clear your throat and speak with noticeable cracks littered in your question. "P-pardon me, could you repeat that?"

'Hooooly shit, oh my gosh. Okay, I've never asked for shit but just this once, can any celestial being work their magic or whatever and make them not make me kill a kid!? I'm gonna need so many vomit bags if I were to go through with this. Screw that, would I even be able to? Well... maybe if one were to turn out to be a sick pervert with no boundaries and god awful balls on their head, than yeah okay I can roll with that-'

Not without giving the man a dirty glance, the chair woman tries her best to mend the unraveling situation before her. "What he meant to say was that, we need you to go undercover as a student at UA High." She says, satisfied and clearly very confident that her statement would be enough to ease you into compliance.

It's safe to say that it was far from enough, very far. Like, miles away. What ever happened to 'hello' or 'how was your day'?

"Right, uhm... If you don't mind me asking, why would I need to do that?" You ask, masking your dubiousness with a forced comprehensive expression.

"I'm sure you've heard of the recently infamous class 1A, correct?"

"Yes, they're all the citizens are speaking about. Especially, due to the recent events of the sports festival a few weeks ago." You answered, before the realization dawned upon you. "Wait a minute, are you trying to tell me that my mission is to enroll into class 1A? I'm not understanding, why the hell would I need to do something so distressing?"

"Calm yourself, Aeron. We simply want you to be and act like a mere late enrollment. We need someone on the inside to keep an eye on those children. They need to be kept in line." The president says.

"I assume you're aware of the USJ incident? After their performance at the sports festival, we know for a fact that the USJ won't be the last of the trouble they get themselves into. Most recently, we have reason to believe that a group of three students, all from class 1A, were heavily involved in the Hosu incident which involved The Hero Killer: Stain. Far more involved than the reports state they truly were. Of course, we don't know this for a fact, so we won't act on this situation specifically, but that alone is enough to raise alarms for us." The man explains.

The Hosu incident happened just two days ago, in which The Hero Killer: Stain was finally apprehended and sent to Tartarus Prison. The reports stated that The Flame Hero: Endeavor was the hero that defeated and arrested him, saving three student interns. You hate to admit it but considering the class was only in their first year, if what they were suspecting is true then these instances were very alarming.

"The group of three students you believe to be heavily involved, they were the interns, weren't they? Who were they specifically?" You ask.

"If the reports were telling the truth - Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and Izuku Midoriya. All of which made it to the top ten in the Sports Festival."

You hummed in thought, "Tenya Iida and Shoto Todoroki... both of these students hail from powerful families. I'm assuming if your theory is true, the cover up was not purely for their sake. Something like this could tarnish the reputation of hero society as a whole, considering one of them is the youngest son of the number two hero. Someone had to have taken this into consideration..." You deduce, but these thoughts only thrust you into confusion once more.

The only person you could think to make the decision of fabricating headlines for the sake of hero society's reputation is the woman before you. But if that was so, why was she acting clueless?

"Aeron, I know that look. Don't go poking your nose in situations you have no place in, this isn't the first time and I can certainly make it so that it ends in the same way it did last time, if you're so hellbent on making this a habit." She warns in a sickeningly sweet tone, her voice contradicting the fangs presenting themselves in her eyes.

"Apologies, President." You hastily correct yourself and force yourself to redirect your attention to the situation at hand. "That won't be necessary."

"We simply need someone to act as a sort of bodyguard for the time being, as well as giving them slight shoves in the right direction. If even one of them shows signs of acting up, you know what to do. You'll need to send reports of your time with them and if any extra measures need to be taken, we'll handle it. It won't be forever." The woman said in an attempt to ease your worries, though you couldn't tell if her sympathy was authentic or spurious, which admittedly frightened you to no end, considering one of your redeeming qualities involved easily reading the people around you.

"So... a spy?" You point out, which was not far at all from the truth. They want you to send reports of your time at UA, which more than likely will be done in secrecy.

"Well, more of a bodyguard spy sort of situation..."

"They would never let me in this late into the year, they're most likely gearing up for final exams right now. Not to mention, babysitter was never on the resume that I turned in." You state matter-of-factly.

"Except, you never turned in a resume, Aeron."

"...My point still stands."

"You're the only one we could trust with this, and the only one with the skills to pull this off."

"That's just because everyone else here is an ancient geezer-"

"Aeron." The woman cuts you off sternly, and in another much softer tone of voice, she tries another tactic. "Remember, we're the ones who saved you from your old home. Don't you want to repay us in the form of your loyal services? You've pledged your life to our cause, you certainly remember what that cause is, correct?"

In a matter of milliseconds, your expression alters itself. Your eyes soften their natural edges and your body translated every form of meek. Almost robotically, you site the words ever so familiar to your tongue. "I pledge to lie my life down for the cause of protecting and serving our society, bettering the lives of the many civilians housed on our soil."

"That's right, and you were cursed with a quirk that directly contradicts life as we know it. We're the only ones that can aid you in putting it to good use and help you repent. After all, the only thing that it's useful for is death, you're lucky that I'm here to guide you and allow you a way to do good things with it. You're already on the route to becoming a true hero." She explains and then gifts you a gentle and motherly smile. "This is your purpose."

She poke the truth, and that fact was the reason you sometimes despised the ability you were born with.

"Right," You utter softly, and after a few more seconds of your pondering, in a voice more fragile than before, you ask, "And this is absolutely necessary? Those kids are training to become heroes, you saw their performances. In my opinion, they're more than capable of taking care of themselves. I'm not so sure they need my guidance." You say sincerely.

This time, the man speaks up. "It is just a precaution. You said it yourself, those kids are very promising, they're our future. You and Hawks are the best of the best that we have had here with us, but that just isn't enough. It'd be a shame to see such talent go to waste."

You allow another round of seconds to escape your grasp as both adults await your response in silence.

"I'll think about it."

"..."

"Oh, you're not asking me, are you?"

"No no, we'll allow you to think it through this time." The woman assured you. You nod in appreciation and let your gaze fall to the ground as even more beats of silence gloss the room. Both adults seem to find the ceiling highly interesting.

"Have you thought about it?" They ask in unison.

"Why bother calling this a proposition when you know that I can't possibly refuse?"

"Well, technically we never called it a proposition-"

"Fine, you're right. We won't try to deny it." The woman admits, suddenly getting serious.

You exhaled in exasperation, giving the idea further thought. This particular mission differs from any of the others you had ever embarked on. The closest experience you've had to attending a class is the sporadic lectures run by Mera you are required to attend whenever your superiors see fit. Actual school is something you had never thought you would have the chance to experience, and you were unsure if you ever truly wanted to. Though, this would allow you to brighten society's future without using your quirk for sin. A path to brighten Keigo's future and aid in the accomplishment of his long term goal, something you longed for:

Aiding in the achievement of his dreams, his prosperity, and his happiness.

You bow once again, the small wisps of hair on your forefront falling forward along with you. "Enrolling into UA High School - If babysitting some brats is what it takes to ensure a bright future for our people, then I'll gladly take on that task."

You are Aeron, a mere girl whose hands have been stained alizarin crimson with sins that could never be undone. You long to live in a world where peace and tranquility are innate, especially to the person you hold dearest. You've pledged to lie your life down for the sake of society's future, but you intuit that you'd lie down society's future for his.

"Wait wait wait, can we hit the pause button for a sec?" You blurted as you sat in a cushioned rolling chair. Your elbow was propped onto the table as your palm held the weight of your right cheek, and countless files with the words 'Top Secret' stamped in red ink were sprawled across the table before you. "I'm still not so sure this can truly be considered top secret, taking into account how frequently I'm seen with Hawks. I don't mean to sound like I've got a big head, but we can't ignore the fact that I'm not a complete nobody. People are bound to recognize me as Aeron and word will get around that I've joined UA... not that I'm doubting these orders, but wouldn't that just garner more attention towards these students? Bringing further problems their way?"

The last two weeks have been filled with back to back meetings regarding your mission. Yokumiru Mera, a member of the HPSC that you had come to know since your youth, was dictated as your supervisor for your time at UA and he is not enjoying the responsibilities it entails anymore than you are.

His heavily lidded eyes gradually slid to acknowledge you without so much as an ounce of enthusiasm painting his dark irises, and in a weary voice he replies, "The mission's endgame itself is the aspect we consider to be top secret, Aeron. Your identity wouldn't, nor could it, be kept a secret. We understand that you're no stranger to the public's eye, and although you might not be as relevant as Hawks currently is, you certainly aren't too far behind."

You brow quirks curiously, "Right," you hum, "So, I'll keep being regarded as my hero name for the entire time that I'm enrolled into UA... because that isn't suspicious at all." You mutter.

The man was either too sleep deprived to recognize your sneering or he was purposely ignoring your attitude. "Yes, that's precisely what you'll be doing. Since your birth name has ceased to exist for a while now, it'd be far more suspicious to suddenly present yourself with a newly constructed alias. You'll just be the Aeron the citizens have already acquainted themselves with - a late enrollment with no connection to working directly under the commission's command as an agent aiding the next generation of heroes and making sure none of them get themselves or anyone else killed. At all costs."

You sighed dreamily, "Ah, yes. Aeron: the alluring, mysterious, up and coming, symbol of hope, poster girl-"

"Aeron." Mera grumbles harshly. "You haven't even been in any posters." He mumbles.

Your concerns made sense, there was no doubting that fact. But, like always, the commission had already taken care of most details, so in full transparency- it was the hours upon hours of sitting in meeting chairs and browsing PowerPoints that was inducing your complaints.

"We've taken care of your admission, so there is no need for an exam to determine your eligibility. According to these documents, you were enrolled through recommendations." He assures you.

"What about my living situation? Am I expected to walk to Musutafu every morning?" You question, and then move to thread your fingers together and wring them pleadingly, "If that's the case, can I pretty please with an ice cream sundae on top be assigned a driver?" You plead.

"We've already secured your housing in an area near the school. Of course, you'll be living on your own for the time being." Which wouldn't be a problem, considering independence is lulled along with the territory of being a child soldier.

"Did you get me an Airbnb?"

"That is irrelevant. Now, onto the next topic that we need to cover." He diverted and then altered the screen being projected onto the wall to display the first of many files you were expected to review and memorize.

"These are the students you will be required to befriend in order to make the job easier."

That is a detail that should not prove to be difficult for you, having had interpersonal skills drilled into your psyche from a young age, making you a master at deception and infiltration... if only you were taught how to wield those skills against the teenage mentality and intellect.

"First up-"

A photo of a boy with lustrous blond hair parted on its side and gleaming amethyst eyes appeared on screen, along with a list of various details regarding the flamboyant adolescent.

"Yuga Aoyama. Age is fifteen and birthday is May thirtieth." Mera begins to read the information on the list whilst you held a copy of the file in your hands.

"Oh, I know a fake French when I see one." You mutter to yourself, squinting at the photo.

"One hundred and sixty eight centimeters tall, or five foot six. His quirk is Navel Laser, which grants the user the ability to fire sparkly twinkling laser beams from their navel." He continues in a drowsy tone. "His recently chosen hero name seems to be 'Shinning Hero: Can't Stop Twinkling'."

With your brain already working on committing every possible detail to memory, your eyes narrow in inspection, "Okay, that weirdly makes sense. I just hope he doesn't regret that when he's older."

"He seems to highly value vanity, as well as always have a smile engraved onto his face. He can usually be seen eating alone, by choice, and is an overall highly flamboyant person."

You internally questioned how they had even acquired such personal information, including his eating habits. Given the numerous photos to support these claims, you guessed that the commission already had their eyes trained on these students far before they decided to ask for your support.

Though you soon would be replacing those exact eyes acquiring the information they deem necessary, and the thought of such espionage left a bitter taste on your tongue.

This time, the screen flickered to display a girl with a rose colored complexion that matched that of her hair. Her irises, though portraying a vivid yellow, contrasted the pitch black of her sclera.

"Next, this is Mina Ashido. She is currently fifteen years old and her birthday is July thirteenth. Her quirk is called Acid which is pretty self explanatory, it allows the user to create corrosive liquid from their skin, with it being naturally resistant to the acid it produces. Her chosen hero name is 'Pinky', and she seems to be highly outgoing. She doesn't excel academically, but more than makes up for that in her athleticism."

"Mina Ash-i-do." You drawl out the syllables of her name. "These first two students were matched up for the first round of the one v one battles during the sports festival. If my memory serves me right, Ashido displayed her athleticism by swiftly dodging Aoyama's spurious attacks, leading to her victory." You ponder aloud.

"Having a quirk that conveys power has little to do with victory. If you're loaded with stamina, that alone has the ability to take you a long way, as you know." Mera adds with a knowing lilt. "Moving on."

The photo faded to display a pale skinned girl with pitch black pools for eyes and swamp green long pin straight hair.

"Tsuyu Asui is fifteen years old and was born on February twelfth. She's on the shorter side, at one-fifty centimeters tall, making her four feet and eleven inches."

Your head tilts and your eyes squint as you inspect the image before you. "She... sort of looks like-"

"She wields the quirk called frog, which is so self explanatory that I won't even bother to elaborate. Her hero name also hints at this, being the 'Rainy Season Hero: Froppy'."

"Kermit." You finish.

"She's a straightforward and aloof child who can sometimes come off as very blunt. She's the eldest of her siblings and would quite frequently act as their main caretaker, this resulted in the molding of her very mature and responsible ethics. She also excels in aquatic environments."

Before Mera had uttered a peep about her quirk, you had already held an inkling of what it might be. While she was still undeniably human, her appearance did, oddly enough, resemble that of a frog.

From what the man in front of you has told you, she, nor the prior two students, would not pose a threat to your mission. This was a good sign.

"Next, Tenya Iida."

This boy being shown had inky navy blue slicked down hair and eyes the color of freshly bloomed saffron, framed by a pair of silver eyeglasses.

"He's fifteen years old with his birthday being August twenty second and he is one hundred and sixty nine centimeters tall, or five foot ten and a half."

"This is one of the students who made the top five in the sports festival, though I don't recall seeing him at the award ceremony." You utter aloud.

"Because he didn't attend the award ceremony, I'll get to that soon." Mera answers your obvious question. "His quirk is engine, which allows the user engine-like protrusions somewhere on their body, allowing them to move at extraordinary speeds. This child has them on his calves,"

"Which is almost too perfect for the intended use." You finish.

"Precisely." The man agrees, "His hero name was formerly 'Tenya', but has recently been changed to 'Turbo Hero: Ingenium'."

"Like his older brother, which if I remember correctly, had those engine-like protrusions on his arms. He was also a recent victim of the Hero Killer: Stain, wasn't he?" You ask.

Mera nods his head, "Correct, unfortunately we have yet to know if or when he will make his recovery, but it seems that Tenya has taken the liberty to keep the legacy going."

"I see."

"You are to keep an extra eye on him, Aeron. After all, he was one of the three children who encountered the Hero Killer, and we still don't have a clue if the reports were tampered with. If it comes to be that he engaged in combat with Stain, that means he is more likely to break the law once more in his deluded sense of justice. You are to prohibit that, by all means possible. Or, at the very least, do what you can to keep him from being caught." He whispered his last sentence underneath his breath, though he couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes.

"Essentially, I am to act as his PR specialist..." You mutter in return. Was all of this simply a ploy to make the President's job easier for her? You suppose you shouldn't complain in that case, as you were grateful for any opportunity to repay your debt towards the woman.

Still... you couldn't stop yourself from internally groaning at your new job description.

"As you know, he comes from a family of successful heroes, which means he doesn't fall short on the topic of wealth. An influential family like that should not have their name tarnished by the scar of a mischievous adolescent. See to it that it doesn't." Mera continues swiftly, "He is also the class representative and extremely dedicated to his studies. He previously attended Somei Private Academy, and placed sixth in the UA entrance exams, with fifty two villain points and nine rescue points. He is a stickler for the rules, ironically, and will snitch on you if given the opportunity."

"How fitting."

The photo then transitions to that of a female with short auburn hair and doe auburn eyes. Her full cheeks were adorned with a natural rosy blush, adding to her enchanting charm.

"Wow, she is beautiful." You utter breathily.

"Ochako Uraraka, age fifteen, with her birthday being December twenty seventh. She is one hundred and fifty six centimeters tall, which translates to five foot one and a half. Her quirk is called zero gravity, which allows the user to remove the effects of gravity from solid things upon touching them with the pads of her fingers."

Your brows raise at the description of her power, "That has a grand amount of potential, if honed correctly."

"Her hero name is 'Uravity', and she placed third in the UA entrance exams, with twenty eight villain points and forty five hero points. She is bubbly, empathetic, determined, and a quote 'cutie patootie'."

"A what?-"

"Unlike her previous classmate, she received the short end of the stick when it came to her financial situation."

'She reminds me of Kirby...' You entertain yourself.

A boy with blond hair slicked forwards, instead of the common opposite direction, and pitch black eyes came next. "Mashirao Ojiro is fifteen years old and was born May twenty eighth."

'Kind of plain looking.' You think.

"He stands at one hundred and sixty nine centimeters tall, five foot six and a half, and has a quirk named tail, which grants the user a prehensile appendage that extends from their lower posterior. His chosen hero name is 'Martial Arts Hero: Tailman'. The only other notes we seem to have gathered are that he has a quote, 'wack quirk and wack look that certainly won't help him climb any ranks after graduation' end quote."

"Oof, so harsh yet so true." You wince.

"Don't be rude." Mera offhandedly scolds. "Moving on, Denki Kaminari is fifteen years old and his birthdate is June twenty ninth. One hundred and sixty eight centimeters tall, making him five foot six short."

"He was born with his future merch logo imprinted in his hair. I'm not going to lie, that's kind of iconic." You comment regarding the boy with blond hair, and a unique black lightning bolt on his left side. His eyes, which were arguably the most striking thing about him, were a shade of metallic yellow that nearly mimicked pots of gold.

"His quirk is called electrification, which grants the user the ability to charge in electricity and emit it out of their body as a sort of protective aura that electrocutes anyone who attempts to form contact."

"Which they'd be stupid to do." You comment before shaking your head in disbelief, "So many powerful quirks with so much potential in one place, it's almost unreal."

"His hero name is 'Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt', and he's a very friendly himbo with excellent social skills. He's a well meaning jokester that hits on women, and sometimes men, respectfully."

You give yourself a moment to digest the information, pondering if this was actually imperial to your mission, which you realize is probably not the case.

"Who is writing these notes?" You ask.

"Irrelevant." Mera answers curtly, "Next is Eijiro Kirishima."

"Oh, this was one of the guys who had the only tie in the sports festival. If my memory serves me right, he won that tie breaker, correct?"

"Very correct, like the others, he is fifteen years old and was born on October sixteenth. He's one hundred and seventy centimeters tall, making him five foot seven. His quirk is called hardening, which gives the user the power to harden any part of their body. This quirk protects them from most physical threats. His hero name is 'Sturdy Hero: Red Riot'."

"That's my favorite one so far."

"He is a beefy himbo that placed second in the UA entrance exams with thirty nine villain points and thirty five hero points."

Your brows raise slightly, "Impressive."

"He has a scar right above his right eye and... hmm..." Mera seemingly begins to trail off, his dark eyes squinting at the file he holds in his hand.

"What?"

"These notes are stupid, I don't want to read them." He states and the screen flickers as the next student's portrait is displayed instead.

"No way hold on, I want to know everything Mera. What if I need this information one day?"

"Trust me, you won't need to know this. Much less, see it in writing. Let's move on-"

"You know, you saying that is just making me want to know more. Come on, I thought we were cool."

"I am cool, you just wouldn't leave me alone since the day you learned my name."

"It's a cool name, I like names that roll off my tongue like that."

"I digress, if you want to know so bad, read it yourself." He says and slides his version of the file across the table, having it land directly before your eyes.

"Oh." You sigh, reading the bullet point that Mera was being dramatic about, "He has a 'big ahh forehead'..." The urge to look at the small photo of the red head at the top of the page was instinctual, anyone would have done the same. So that's exactly what you did. "Well, they're not wrong."

"Aeron." The man grits, rolling up one of the many files he had left and bopping you on the top of the head with it. "Don't be rude. You have to learn to be their friends, that can't happen if you don't learn to filter your opinions."

Fixing the hair at the top of your head, you groan, "Aren't you supposed to be able to be yourself with friends? What's the point of establishing myself as their companion if I can't even do that?"

"Not in this case, no. Keep in mind, this won't be a normal 'friendship', your relationship with these children will be completely fabricated. Fake. You need to put a leash on yourself and, if needed, present yourself with an entirely new persona in order to fool them."

You grumble, "Well, don't be surprised if I don't end up their friend at all. I'm not going through with this to make friends."

"You kind of actually are, that's sort of the entire mission."

"Well, I won't be enjoying it."

Mera chuckles, "There's no harm in milking this for what it's worth, why not go and bask in the positives your mission might bring you? Friends your own age would do you some good, at least I think so, anyway. Not to mention, a break from whatever the President has cooking up for you in the future."

You stutter, "What? Don't state it like that, I'm very grateful for the opportunities the President has granted me."

"Sure, kid." The man relents, and for a moment, if you were somehow a passerby watching this moment from the outside in, you could have see the turbulence, or perhaps guilt?, knotting and twisting itself in the visible disruption on his face. The hesitation he feels in continuing to push you so far, in aim to create some robotic servant who would never even think to make the same mistakes as the ones before her.

"Let's continue," He decides. "Now, Eijiro Kirishima is known to be a very kind student, and his hair takes a full three minutes to set. He is also a fake red head."

"What's his natural hair color?" You ask, intrigued.

"Black."

"I could see that."

"Next, we have Koji Koda. Age fifteen and birthday is February first."

This student's appearance surprises you, as it seems his body is a permanent version of Kirishima's hardening quirk. This boy has no hair at all and was only blessed with small beady irises.

"One hundred and eighty centimeters tall - six foot one. His quirk is anivoice and it allows its user to communicate with and command animals through speech. His hero name is 'Petting Hero: Anima', and despite his quirk, his personality is much mellow, as he rarely ever utters a word."

Mera doesn't waste time exploring this student further, as he swiftly moves onto the next. This student dons dark brown spiky hair and black eyes. Though, his lips were the most attention stealing aspect about him, considering they were bigger than the average pair.

"Rikido Sato. Age fifteen, birthdate June nineteenth. One hundred and eighty five centimeters tall making him six foot one. His quirk is sugar rush, which allows the user to multiply their strength five-fold for three minutes for every ten grams of sugar they ingest. His hero name is 'Sweet Hero: Sugar Man'. Due to his quirk, he has developed a grand skill for baking."

"I'm so jealous right now." You mutter, "Do you think he'll make cake when I join the class? Considering I'll have to be their friend, it'd be stupid to decline, right?" You ask Mera.

"I'm glad you're taking my advice of milking this for what it's worth, though I'd prefer if you went about it for the interactions these children could bring you." He answers.

"So, is that a yes?"

"Probably." He answers, "Next, Mezo Shoji."

This student had silver hair that was parted and styled to obstruct his right eye. A light blue mask consumes the rest of his face, leaving very little of his actual face to see the light of day, and unlike the two most people are born with, this boy has six arms.

"He's fifteen and one hundred and eighty seven centimeters tall, making him six foot two. His quirk is named dupli-arms and it grants the user a set of arm-like tentacles adjacent to their arms that can transform into duplicates of any other body part. Hero name is 'Tentacle Hero: Tentacole'. The only notes we have of this one are: always has a mask on, gentle giant, selfless, and empathetic."

"This quirk just screams that he'd be an ideal scout." You determine.

"Kyoka Jirou," This time, there was a girl on screen. She has short length indigo hair and triangular onyx eyes. Cables the color of her pale skin were connected to her earlobes, making her quirk a simple guess. "Age, fifteen, birthdate, August first. She's one hundred and fifty four centimeters tall, making her five foot one and three fourths. Her quirk is names earphone jack and it grants its users long controllable earlobes that work like headphone cables. Jirou's earlobes are shaped like jacks at their ends, allowing her to plug them into a variety of objects. Her hero name is 'Hearing Hero: Earphone Jack'. She has a very laidback personality, is a talented musician, and can be empathetic towards those she deems her friends."

'She has bottom lashes to die for.' You notice, though you decide to keep that thought to yourself.

"Hanta Sero is fifteen years old and was born on July twenty eighth. He is one hundred and seventy seven centimeters tall, which translates to five foot ten." This student has pin straight black hair that went to about his neck, and matching color eyes. He also has probably the most straight teeth you had ever seen. "His quirk is called Tape, and it allows the user to eject adhesive tape from openings located on both of their elbows. His hero name is 'Taping Hero: Cellophane'. The notes on him are claiming that he is very sociable and laid back, though also loud and humorous."

"Tape elbows?" You hum, and Mera could have sworn he saw a visible question mark floating above your head. "I'll admit, I like the hero name. It's catchy."

The next student was someone that has recently become very familiar to you, given his internship at the Hawks Agency.

"This is Fumikage Tokoyami, he's fifteen years old and his birthday is October thirtieth. He is one hundred and fifty eight centimeters tall - five foot two inches. His quirk is Dark Shadow, which grants the user a shadowy, monster-like being from within his body that they can materialize and de-materialize at will."

It's almost comedic to hear Dark Shadow described as some sort of vicious 'monster', considering during which the time that you had acquainted yourself with its owner, he was anything but.

"His hero name is 'Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi'." Mera continues.

"Hearing his hero name in full is always so damn cool."

"He is relatively reserved, noble, dependable, and regarded as a very strong student. He placed ninth in the UA entrance exam with forty seven villain points and ten rescue points."

"Considering the amount of aspiring contenders, he placed pretty high in those rankings." You point out.

As the screen transitioned to another student, you realize that you recognize this one immediately as well, his two toned hair being a dead give away.

"Shoto Todoroki is fifteen years old, and stands at one hundred and seventy six centimeters, making him five foot nine inches tall. His quirk is named half cold half hot, and it allows the user to generate ice, frost, and low temperatures from the right side of their body and fire, flames, and high temperatures from the left. However, the user is unable to manipulate either element that comes from an external source; additionally, they can only create them from within their own body. His hero name is 'Shoto'."

Pursing your lips, your fingers tap against the desk as you squint your eyes at the portrait. "A boring hero name is bad for marketing. Though, at least he's good looking."

"He would formerly come across as cold or aloof, but he has recently noticeably grew to be more open and friendly. Although, he is highly intelligent in his studies, he is on the denser side when it comes to social interactions. He is wise, powerful, intelligent, popular with the ladies and also very fortunate when it comes to his parent's financial situation. Which is expected as the son of the number two hero."

"It seems he underwent character development?" You ponder, "I support that, I guess. Wasn't he also one of the students that was implied to have been involved in the arrest of the Hero Killer: Stain?"

"Great memory, Aeron. Indeed he was, which is why he is another you will have to keep a mindful eye on." Mera advises you, "I've heard he is a tough one to decipher, but I trust that won't pose too much of a problem for you."

"It won't." You confirm.

"Now this next student is," He changes the photo displayed on the wall, but for some reason it seems the projector has ceased to function.

"Mera, what happened?"

The man gives you a blank stare in return, "What do you mean?"

"The projector isn't working. It's not showing the photo, I've told you before, this thing is ancient. Who even uses projectors anymore?"

"Nothing is wrong, the student is right there."

"Are you blind? There's nothing there."

"Aeron, that is the student. Toru Hagakure, age fifteen. One hundred and fifty two centimeters tall, making her exactly five feet. Quirk, invisibility. Hero name is 'Stealth Hero: Invisible Girl'."

You remain silent, mouth slightly ajar and eyes anywhere but the man before you. "Well... now I feel bad."

"Take it in stride, Aeron. Don't embarrass yourself any further. Anyhow, moving on, she is very outgoing and girly." Mera continues, not at all deterred by your glare.

"Whatever." You grumble as you cross your arms before your chest, "She totally stole my brand with the stealth part."

"Next up, Katsuki Bakugo. Age is fifteen years old, birthdate is April twentieth."

Though, your pouting doesn't last long as you almost explode with laughter at the arrival of the next photo.

"His quirk is called Explosion and this quirk allows the user to emit explosions from their hands by detonating the nitroglycerin like substance that they sweat. His hero name is still undecided and he placed first in the UA entrance exam with seventy seven villain points and zero hero points. His personality seems to match his quirk. He excels both physically and academically. He perfected reading at the age of four and is considered a natural born genius. Though, he has trouble working in teams and is victory thirsty. Due to his parents both being fashion designers, he grew up very fortunate."

"They should have kept his photo blank like the last student, they did him so wrong using the one from the sports festival." You murmur, before you begin to dwell on the information Mera had provided you. The blond seems very well off. Granted, the only view you were granted of the boy was at the surface, but if you were to judge him at that level, you wonder why he looked so angry all the time.

The photo of the blond boy then transforms into another, creating an almost comical contrast.

"Izuku Midoriya, age fifteen. Birthdate is July fifteenth. Height is one hundred and sixty six centimeters tall making him five foot five and one fourth. His quirk is a physical enhancement type of quirk that boosts physical abilities. His hero name is Deku, and he seems to be timid, polite, determined, and he also talks to himself a lot. He placed seventh in the entrance exam with zero villain points and sixty rescue points."

You hum as you inspect the photo, the one that Keigo had pointed out had made him look as if he desperately needed a toilet, and yet again you get that annoyingly nagging feeling creeping up the back of your neck.

Why does he always give you goosebumps?

"This one and the one before look as if they are total opposites, even their points in the entrance exam were basically inversed." You point out.

Mera chuckles slightly, "It's funny you say that. According to our espionage, they've known each other since childhood."

Your head tilts in curiosity, "So, they're close?"

"You could say so."

Your eye twitches in irritation, "I still don't think I like this guy. He gives me the heebie jeebies. I mean, come on... nobodies hair is that fluffy." You grit.

"I think there are more pressing matters regarding this one, Aeron. For example, this was one of the other students involved in the arrest of the Hero Killer."

"Yeah well, I had already gathered that he's someone I needed to keep on my radar even before the president had informed me of that incident. Considering the fact that he uses a quirk like a toddler first manifesting their own. It's so weird. I don't know of any other quirk that hurts someone as much as his hurts himself, and especially as a teenager. You'd think he'd have a grip on it by now."

"It'd do you well to keep in mind that, that is what UA is for. Helping teens learn more about and improve their quirks. Perhaps he was just a late bloomer? Or maybe that's just the card he was dealt. Quirks evolve with each generation, implying we cannot rely solely on past records. We have to learn how to adapt with the new age of heroes we are being dealt. And, considering this year's sports festival performances, we've got a long way to go in regards to preparing for the year they graduate and become pro's." Mera continues to school you, only forcing your pout to grow in volume. You hate it when he makes sense.

"I'm still going to be wary of him. That much you can be sure of."

"Well, why not make it apart of your mission to aid him in learning to control this quirk? Since his inability to handle it is bothering you so much." He suggests.

"What? No way. I'll avoid him every chance I get."

The blond man simply sighs in resignation, probably deciding the argument was not worth whatever he was getting paid to be here. "Sure, let's move on." Mera alters the photo to display the next student.

"Oh, brother." You mutter, recognizing and already feeling the incoming headaches this next student would bring you.

"Now, I don't want to spend any more time than I have to on him. So, forgive me if I skim over his file." Mera decides, and his dark under eyes only seem to deepen. "Minoru Mineta, fifteen years old and born October eighth. He is one hundred and eight centimeters tall making him only three feet and six and a half inches short. His quirk is called pop off and it allows the user to produce sticky spheres from their head that they can pluck painlessly. His hero name is 'Fresh-Picked Hero: Grape Juice'. Mineta is perverted, small, and surprisingly intelligent. He is one of the ones you'll need to keep an eye on the most. Specifically because you are female, a quality he takes great interest in."

"Blech."

"And finally-" Mera begins, the screen displaying the photo of a girl with long silky black hair tied into a high pony. "Momo Yaoyorozu, age fifteen, and birthday is September twenty third. She is one hundred and seventy three centimeters tall, making her five foot eight. Her quirk is called creation and it allows the user to materialize different objects, such as weapons and tools, from any part of their body. Her hero name is 'Everything Hero: Creati'. She is highly intelligent, self conscious and another one fortunate in the money department. She is also the Vice Class Representative and gained some popularity due to her recent internship. You can probably see her on a billboard due to a popular commercial." He finishes with a sigh.

Your brow raises in intrigue, "Really? Good for her. Not to mention she is rich, pretty, and smart. Whoever sits up on the high throne certainly does pick favorites."

"Now Aeron, I know I've already reiterated this plenty of times, but I feel like I need to do it once more. The key to success is to gain the favor of at the very least, most of these students. That means, you'll have to appear affable and sociable towards them. So you know... not yourself." Mera explains, gesturing towards your slumped form.

His words have you rolling your eyes in order to hide the way in which your jaw almost dropped at his blunt words. Though, Mera certainly was never one to filter his own sentences. "I know, Mera. I have to learn to get along with them."

"Not only that but we want you to become someone that they can rely on. It is both beneficial for the mission end game and for the information that you are expected to relay back to us." He elucidated. "Think of it as becoming, somewhat of an older sister figure towards these kids."

"I could never be an older sister to anyone."

"Well, try."

"That reminds me, I'm a year older than all of them, what's up with that?" You ask.

"Paperwork is very easy to forge miss Aeron, during your time there, instead of a sixteen year old, you'll go back to being a fifteen year old instead. Which shouldn't be too much of a change, there really is no difference."

What he said was true... to most. But to your sixteen year old mind, there was a colossal gap between the cerebrals of a sixteen and fifteen year old. Withholding yet another eyeroll, you simply nod your head as stiffly as you could.

Mera stifles a yawn and rubs his eyes in exhaustion. "Alright, let's call it a day and get some food into our systems, yes?" He offers and you swore you could've kissed his feet.

"Yes, please." You say exasperatedly. "What do we have on the menu today?" You ask, expecting the normal portions that included your protein, carbs, fibers and vitamins. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Why don't we get sushi today?" The man offers, and you can almost see the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "My treat."

"Wait, really?" His offer understandably astonished you, leaving you gaping at the older man, before you narrow your eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"Don't make me regret this, just come on." He says and wearily starts his waltz towards the door.

Your eyes widen in shock at his kindness, and an excited smile embraces your face. Not needing to be told twice, you very quickly gather your files into a pile and place them into your bag.

Madam President and as well as Mera had made it crystal clear that if these files were to fall into the wrong hands, it'd be the demise of UA...

...so they very wisely let you, a teenager, handle them.

And so with another day of review complete, you make your way to the sushi place across town for the first time ever.

As you step foot into your eerily quiet penthouse, you yawn and stretch your arms high above your head, feeling as though you could touch the clouds even though you were nowhere near your elevated ceiling. The only word that roamed your mind as you thought of your subject today was... unique? Or perhaps interesting was a better way to describe the class, but one thing you knew for sure is that they were bound to be a handful.

You briefly wondered if they had ever heard your name in passing, or perhaps glanced at a photo online that the paparazzi had taken of you. What was their opinion on you, a mere stranger, and how would that opinion change when the day to meet them face to face had arrived?

For a second, you even pondered if your opinion of yourself would some how alter itself.

But, that was obviously a stupid thought. There's no way a measly group of teens would ever affect you that much. Not that you've ever met or interacted with a group of teens before. In fact, if not for Tokoyami, you would have never interacted with someone your age up until this point. You hoped the rest of his class was at least somewhat as tranquil as that boy had came off in your short interactions.

Soft snoring suddenly reaches your ears and forces you to follow the sound. Those snores lead you to your couch, and as you walk up behind it, you take in the sight that was Keigo, fully decked out in his silk sleepwear, sprawled out on the cushions. Though, the detail that really makes you reel is the fact that he's not alone.

Kitty is curled up on his back as Keigos supple wings cradle her slightly. Kitty seems to have awoken, blinking her sleepy eyes up at your form. And for the first time since you've been recruited for the mission, the fact that you'd have to leave them behind, even if just for a short while, fully marinates within your brain.

And it hurts you, because they're the only constants you have in your isolated life. The only constants that you don't mind, and the only ones that bring you peace.

You detest the fact that you'd be leaving Keigo alone, yet again, due to the commissions orders. But what else was there to do but accept it? It's not as if you could go against their commands, and even if you could, you don't think you'd have the will to. Because, as independent as you truly are, it doesn't escape your mind that at the end of the day, Madam President is a person you would always recognize as one of your main dependents. It was simply the way in which you were raised.

After slipping out of your clothes and replacing them with what was, coincidentally, a matching set of silk sleep wear as Keigo, which was totally not done on purpose? You have no idea why anyone would suggest that, you grab two blankets from the closet, and carefully drape the first onto the form of the man currently snoozing and use the other for yourself as you settle in beside him.

And after one large red wing subconsciously decides to drape itself over your frame bring you closer to his body, you decide that no matter how many expensive or fluffy blankets you coddled yourself with, none would compare to the warmth that this moment brings you.

You're grateful for the peace you are allowed and you secretly hope that your slumber isn't intruded on by the horrors of your nightmares once again.

As you allow your mind to doze off, you can't help but wonder how school- or your mission would go about. You don't quite recognize the feeling that is in your chest at the moment but you know that what ever it is, you don't want it to flee.

A/N: two chapter set up is DONE. Let’s get into some canon content next! The next two chapters are out now!! Lmk if you want me to make a tag list!

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 8 months ago

Text

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 8 - Locked Out

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.5k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

Chapter 8 - Locked Out

Few things about post-outbreak life had come easy to Joel, but one thing he never struggled with was silence. He was a man of few words, he relished in solitude, and his years as a father made him excellent at moving quietly. While he’d developed that skill to avoid waking Sarah as an infant, it also proved useful for avoiding Infected. He never thought he’d get another chance to use his light tread for anything other than survival, but here he was. Carefully climbing the creaky wooden steps to his brother’s front door, stepping over the squeakiest one he’d been meaning to fix for ages now.

Knock! Knock!

Joel rapped softly on the warm oak door, just loud enough to announce his presence without risking a screaming baby.

Tommy answered a moment later.

“You look like shit,” Joel cracked an amused smile. Tommy had said something similar the first time he’d greeted Joel after Sarah was born.

“Gee, thanks,” Tommy rolled his eyes. He stepped backward, holding the door to usher Joel inside. He hung his filthy patrol jacket on a peg and turned to take it all in.

It was as if a tornado had swept through. Dirty dishes were scattered across every horizontal surface but the floor, and the burp cloth situation wasn’t much better. By the looks of it, Maria was currently making do with a bath mat.

A smile crept across his lips as the baby finally spit up and then descended into soft, easy snores. It was peaceful in the way only small children could be.

“Congratulations,” he said softly, patting his brother on the back far more gently than Tommy had when he’d been freshly uncled.

“Thanks, Joel,” Tommy smiled. There was exhaustion in his eyes, but also a familiar, joyful satisfaction Joel recognized. It was the look of a father.

“Fatherhood suits you, you know.”

“You think?” Tommy asked.

Joel nodded. “I know.”

Maria chimed in from across the room. “You wanna meet her?”

Joel beamed. “Can I?”

Maria nodded, and he crossed to where she stood beside the fireplace. She jutted her chin toward the couch, and he took a seat in his usual spot.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered as Maria placed the sleeping babe in his outstretched arms.

It didn’t look right, all his wrinkles and scars and gray hair against such pure, unbridled innocence. He didn’t expect the tears that slipped down his cheeks as he beheld her.

Tommy came to stand behind him, watching with newfound respect for his brother as he met his niece for the first time.

“What’s her name?” Joel asked.

Tommy looked at Maria. She nodded, giving him silent permission to proceed.

“Margaret Sarah Miller. Maggie for short.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what he saw in Joel’s eyes as his head snapped to look at him. All he knew was there were tears and something undeniably raw in there. It moved him.

“Maggie, like our mom Maggie?” He asked.

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “And Sarah, like your daughter.”

Joel rolled his eyes through the tears. “Well, yeah, I got that part.”

Maria barked a laugh, and Tommy couldn’t help but follow suit. Joel of all people giggled, and then before they knew it little Maggie was opening her eyes. Her skin was dark like her mother’s, but her eyes—those were Miller eyes. It wasn’t the color that confirmed it, but the tenacity within them. The spark. The wildness that would forever refuse to be tamed.

“She’s gonna be trouble, this one,” Joel mused. “No doubt about it.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, she’s got Ellie as a big cousin. I’d expect nothing less.”

Joel smiled wistfully. “I’ll have to get her over here tomorrow or the next day. We’ll help clean up so the two of you can get some rest. Would’ve been by sooner, but patrol ran long.”

“Speaking of which,” Maria chimed in, retrieving the baby from Joel to bounce on her hip. “Where’s Doe? I figured she’d be with you.”

Joel’s smile fell then. He still couldn’t make heads or tails of the way you’d stormed off earlier. He sure as shit didn’t know how to explain it to Tommy and Maria.

So he gave them a total non-answer.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “Probably went to bed. It was a long patrol, I’m sure she’s tired.”

Maria cocked an eyebrow at the lame excuse. “Too tired to meet her niece?

* * *

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You awoke to the sound of thuds on your front door.

What now? You thought to yourself as you sat upright, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Doe, open up. I know you’re in there,” a gruff male voice called out to you.

Joel. What the fuck does he want?

You rose from your nest of blankets on the futon and padded towards the door in your slippers, stepping over the piles of dirty laundry that littered your floor.

It got like this, sometimes. You tried to keep things under control, but life had a way of thwarting that endeavor at every available opportunity. You shoved the clutter out of view as best you could and opened the door a crack.

“What?” You eyed him through the opening.

He was dressed casually, a light brown t-shirt giving way to denim down below. He was sweaty, and his hair was mussed. And the look he was giving you, when paired with crossed arms, was downright murderous.

“Office doesn’t open ��till eight.”

“It’s ten-thirty,” he said, his voice rife with exasperation.

Shit, you winced. I can’t believe I overslept by that much.

You sighed, then opened the door a bit more. Your outfit was messy, but nothing out of the ordinary for pajamas.

“How can I help you, Joel?”

“Wanna tell me why Tommy says you still haven’t been by to see Maria? You’ve been back three days, Doe. She had the baby damn near a week ago. What gives?”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d never been one for excuses, but they were particularly elusive now. You broke eye contact, instead opting to try your hand at staring a hole through the corrugated metal outside your door. It didn’t work.

Joel reached forward and grabbed the door handle, yanking it open to expose you to the fresh morning air and bright sunlight that hurt your unprepared eyes. You stepped forward quickly, shutting the door behind you before Joel could get a good look at the depression pit formerly known as your office.

“I’m not leaving until you give me an answer,” Joel drawled.

You leaned back against the door and looked up at him with a frown. “You weren’t this mean back at the fire tower.”

“That was different. You needed coddlin’.”

“Who’s to say I don’t need coddling now? You don’t know me. You don’t know my life.”

“That’s the problem.” Joel dropped his hands to his sides. “I don’t know. Because you won’t tell me.”

“You assume there’s something to tell. There’s not.”

“What, cause you got amnesia or somethin’? I saw how you signed your name in the logbook. Either you’ve got real shit taste in aliases or there’s something more going on here.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “That’s private.”

“Clearly,” he spat. “Just tell me, are you planning on ignoring her forever, or are you gonna get your ass over there and go meet your niece?”

“That’s not my niece.”

“Maria begs to differ.”

Your eyebrows shot upward, and Joel seized the opportunity to continue.

“You’re her best friend. Her right-hand woman around here. She thinks of you as a sister, Doe.”

Something seized in your gut. “I don’t have a sister. Not anymore.”

You reached for the door handle and pulled, but–

“Fuck.”

It wouldn’t budge. Your heart rate picked up. You resisted the urge to vomit.

You pushed past Joel and scanned the flat expanse between the base of the building and the large wooden gates that enclosed the community you’d dedicated yourself to protecting. It was busy this time of day, but there was one person in particular you were looking for. You spotted her by the stables.

“Casey! Hey!” You waved your arms over your head to catch her attention.

“Doe? What’s wrong?”

You jutted a thumb over your shoulder. “Got locked out again.”

She sighed. “That’s the third time this month, dude. You gotta get a doorstop or something.”

“I know. Sorry,” you called down as she stopped beneath the wraparound balcony that surrounded your small office perch.

She tossed the spare up, but before you could catch it, a hand reached out and snatched it from the air.

“Thanks!” Joel called down to Casey. “I’ll help her get inside.”

“I could’ve caught that, you know.” You scowled, striding back towards the door.

Joel walked right past it and set off down the stairs that led to ground level.

“The fuck—Joel, where are you going?”

“To Tommy and Maria’s. And if you want to get back into that office of yours, you’re coming with me.”

You took a shaky breath. This was so not what you needed right now. You peered through the door's small wire-infused utility window and gazed longingly at your office. Or was it your apartment? You guessed it was technically both, since you slept on the futon. You locked eyes with the crusty rat plushie perched tall atop your mountain of cozy blankets, and whispered a solemn vow.

“I’ll be back for you soon, Ratty. I promise.”

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taglist: @aspecialgreenie, @guelyury, @amyispxnk, @picketniffler, @hiroikegawa

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Note

Do simon and bones ever get that night where they don’t have to be quiet?? And maybe simon loses himself and goes completely feral trying to pull as many noises from her as possible that make his brain melt?? 🥺

Ohhh anon. Yes, yes they do.

Love Is a Sin (Part One)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Smoking, mention of war and military lifestyle, use of weaponry, dirty talk, mask kink, size kink, tiny praise kink, cockwarming (kinda?), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, fluffies and vulnerability, secrecy, protective Ghost (I yearn). Lmk if I missed anything!

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A/N: Enjoy part one my babies! Part two gets a little darker... I'm so excited.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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It’s not often that you find yourself here, this is actually your first genuine invitation. Any other reason was to simply grab materials for a craft or files from a desk. And whenever you did that, it was by yourself. Because when the boys were in here, those doors were locked tight, their voices a muted drone in the halls. No one was allowed access into the debriefing room unless given specific clearance from Price.

“Grab a seat.” The man of the hour speaks, motioning toward the table.

They’re already gathered around the captain’s spread of plans, all three of them. And when Price speaks to you, each and every one of their heads turn, eyes and brows moving with bewilderment. None of them knew you were attending this meeting, not even Ghost.

His eyes, above anyone else’s, widen. No one moves for a moment, not until Simon stands. Rising to his feet, he towers over every man, brows narrowing before he turns, grabbing one of the folding chairs leaning against the wall. With a quick jerk of his hand, the chair unfolds into its natural position. And then, he’s setting it down beside his own seat, lowering himself once again.

Johnny cocks an eye at his somewhat gentlemanly act, and although it’s done with sweet intention, you can practically feel Simon’s aversion to your presence. You knew this would upset him.

“Uncharted territory.” Price declares, a single, thick finger slamming down onto the map. “And that’s why we need her.” That finger is then directed at you. And as each man turns their head, you don’t feel intimidation, but pride, swelling within you.

But your partner, on the other hand, finds his insides rotting with disapproval. They knew where they’d be going, they knew what they’d be risking, but they had no idea they’d have to bring you. But aside from Simon, everyone there seemed thrilled.

“Finally get to see what yer all about.” Soap grins, giving you a rather rough pat on the back.

Gaz smiles, leaning onto the table with his forearms. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“Damn right.” And when you look up, Price is beaming with pride. He brought you to the base for a reason; he always knew you’d be a reliable member. “She’s the best we’ve got, and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

All this talk and Simon’s head hasn’t turned once, his eyes fixed completely on you. His stare is almost blank, lost, void of emotion as he begins to dissociate from this. Before you, only his family had gotten so close to him. And even now, you’re more important to him than they ever were. He’s never let himself get so wrapped up in this type of thing, an actual relationship. And now he’s going to be bringing you with him? He’s never even so much as trained with you. You’re not ready for this, and neither is he. But your unpreparedness is clearly developing in different ways.

“Ghost.”

Snapping his gaze toward the captain, he jostles his head. “Yeah?”

“We’re gonna need your head in the game for this one.”

“Always.”

And just like that, you’re running through the plans. No man’s land, disputed ground between your team and the enemy. Many squadrons have been deployed and just as many have died. With the team specializing in infiltration, counter-terrorism and covert assignment, they were the next group to be tasked with the mission. This wasn’t going to be a simple assignment.

But honestly, you’re not here for any of that. You don’t specialize in any type of infiltration or counter-terrosim techniques. Right now, you’re a medic, and with the zone they’re invading, Price wants you on deck in case anyone gets hurt. They have a better chance of making it through if they have someone that can quickly wrap up a wound. It also helps that you have experience in the field, but both physically and mentally. Before becoming a medic, and now lead medic at the base, you specialize in close quarter combat and weapons tactics, traits Price found just as valuable. He knows you won’t hold them back.

Simon knows all of this, he knows better than anyone just how good you are at this. But you’ve never experienced this kind of warfare, and he doesn’t want you to witness it. He also doesn't want you to witness the kind of man he is during it.

“We’re due to set off tomorrow evening. We’ll use the cover of night to be dropped in over the mountains, where we’ll then hike. It’s about a twenty kilometer trek from there to the safe house. There, we’ll get our rest, reconvene and set out for the building.”

Sliding his finger to one portion of the map, he displays the safe house’s location. Continuing to move, he then shows just how close the targeted building is.

Price’s voice dips dangerously low when he explains, “Only eight kilometers away.”

“How is it a safe house if it’s that close to enemy lines?” Soap asks, twisting his face in confusion.

“The enemy has yet to infiltrate that forest, they know nothing of its ground or the layout. They wouldn’t risk crossing uncharted territory just to explore a piece of land they aren’t interested in. Besides, the house is surrounded by landmines and snares, something we’ll need to pay attention to and avoid.”

With emphasis on his last word, those deep baby blues then drift to Gaz, who’s trying to duck away like some embarrassed tortoise. “I know, I know.” The team remembers Gaz’s mistake far too well, tossing a rock to test the space before nearly blowing himself to bits.

“Any other questions?”

About a million, though he doesn’t say it. They all revolve around you, anyway.

“Right.” Slapping a hand against the table, he then stands. “We’re clear to move out tomorrow evening, eighteen hundred hours. Am I clear?”

“Clear.” The three men proclaim in unison, prompting you to jump slightly in your seat. And Ghost chuckles.

“C-Clear.” You repeat, feeling foolish doing so by yourself.

Price grins, giving you a cheeky wink. He knows you’ll fit in given the right amount of time. “Night lads.” Your captain then states, giving you a nod. “And lass.”

Everything feels thick and heavy - your clothes, the air, the shaft invading your most intimate space. His sighs are full of spearmint and tobacco, hints of his cologne floating up to your nose. Every sense feels invigorated, the emotions of embarrassment and exposure melting away just from being in his presence. Simon calms you, he grounds you.

“Christ,” His breaths come out in humid puffs, seeping out through the top crack of the window. It intermingles with the nighttime air, the darkening atmosphere as it fades to dusk. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Bulky arms wrap around your midsection, one hand dipping down to fist your ass. It’s then that you feel him pulse against your walls, prompting a delighted sigh from your throat.

“I think I know.” Your sultry voice responds, hips moving gracefully over his pelvis. But your breaths are still heavy, enjoying the cool breeze that occasionally drifts in. And those heavy wafts of air soak into his neck when you lean in, running your lips over his ear. “I think I know exactly what I do to you.”

Those sweetly sinful words give the allusion of rough and quick sex, all teeth and tongue and torn clothes. But that’s not what this is about, not right now, not at all. It’s passionate, sensual, but slow and needy, too. Your motions are relaxed, Simon’s hands encouraging the gradual roll of your hips. And when you’re not speaking to him, or him to you, you’re lifting yourself up to his mouth. Here, the tips of your tongues touch, just barely dancing together as you tease one another, before inevitably falling back down to mouth tenderly at his neck.

“You’re so fucking good,” He praises, thick fingers pressing into your backside as he pants briefly. “Give me more, oh, god… more.”

Rocking his hips upward, he meets your sensual rolls, finding unison with you. From the moment you crawled onto his lap in the backseat of his Jeep, his eyes were on you, on your pretty face and every expression you make. Even now, he reaches out, cupping your cheek and bringing you down to him with a gentle force that screams Simon.

His mouth consumes your own, his entire tongue sliding inside while his moan vibrates down your throat. It’s then that he twitches against your delicate channel, gasping into your mouth, breathing in your air. Holding you down on his lap, he forces you to still, now choosing to thrust up.

“Simon,”

“God,” He groans, shoving himself up into your center over and over again. And at this point, it’s a familiar feeling, the sensation of being overly full, stretched to your limit and still wanting more. “Love it when you say my name.”

Leaning backward against the seat, he urges you to put your weight on his chest, planting his feet on the floor of the car to gain better leverage. Here, he punches himself into your sex, reveling in the way it squeezes hotly around him.

“Fucking C-Christ.”

The Jeep rocks from the force of it, your collective moans spilling out into the nighttime air. But neither of you are worried. You’d found this spot to be particularly secluded, even from the constant patrols. Parked amongst the trees with the car off, at nearly midnight, seemed to be your new routine. It was the closest you could get to feeling free.

“Take it off.” Your Lieutenant then requests, one hand lifting to your chest.

He palms you roughly, slowing the action down as he then decides on a tender rub; he wants to show you how gentle he can be. So, while considering both his actions and words, he moves carefully, speaks gently. “Can I see?”

“Mhm,” With a wide grin, you nod, glancing down to undo the front of your quarter zip. The easiest way to give him access is to guide your sports bra up and over the tops of your breasts, exposing yourself to him.

“Oh,” Ghost groans, ducking his head into the crook of your neck. “Lovely.” He says it as his hand returns, doing his best to not let the material of his glove scratch you too rough.

Your lover’s touch has grown quite accustomed to your feminine features, your smooth skin, your most delicate places. Instead of running over it with quick motions, his thumb touches your nipple gently, just barely rubbing tiny circles into it. And he listens to your breath, too. The lungs give everything away.

“Baby, please…”

“What d’you want, love?” Mumbling into your neck, he kisses it, loosening his grip and allowing you to move again. And instantly, you do, wrapping your arms around his neck and bouncing down onto him.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Now that your shirt is open, it leaves you vulnerable to the roughness of his tac vest. And it scratches you harshly, zippers and velcro scraping across your sensitive skin. But in truth, you like it. It’s almost like another mark he can give.

“Fuck, those whimpers… that’s gonna make me bust right inside.”

Regardless of your place in the woods, you still have to keep yourself quiet. You and Simon have yet to have a night where you can fully be yourselves, where you can fully indulge in each other. This has been the closest thing to it.

“S-Simon,” Your voice is light, airy and shaky. And you’re clinging to him for dear fucking life, because not only has he matched your fervent pace, he’s exceeded it. “Baby.”

“Take it,” He nearly growls, “Take it in your tight cunt.”

The muscles lining your insides flutter from his words, from his brute force. Sex with Simon was always so passionate, so intimate; it was a different type of experience. And you’ve fully leaned into it since the first night you got to experience him.

“Fucking hell, princess, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum on me.” And he really can; your velvety center pulsing around him, around the thick intrusion repeatedly splitting you open.

But the way he says it almost embarasses you, and he chuckles when you duck down to hide your face from him. Smooshing your cheeks against his neck, your quiet grunts come with his every thrust.

“C’mon, baby.” He coos with a grin, encouraging you. And something about Simon using the word baby makes you absolutely swoon. “Like it when you cum on me… you know that.”

It’s then that you finally give in, a sense of pleasure bursting from your lower pelvis and reaching into every limb. The entire sensation is a true release, mentally and physically. Both of his hands find your backside as he rides you through it, squeezing harshly while your pelvis ruts over him, your entire body trembling.

“That’s it…” Eyes rolling back, he drops his head against the seat’s headrest. But his hold on you hasn’t given up just yet.

His own euphoria shoots from his insides when your fingernails find him, digging into his skin. Your slender digits scratch at his neck, at the tendons between his throat and shoulder, and it just fucking sends him.

Ghost has gotten quite comfortable releasing inside you. The two of you had forgone condoms fairly quickly. And in the beginning, it was due to the rush of things, the need to have the other right then and there, or at least, as soon as you could. But now, it’s for the feeling, the intimacy. There’s really nothing else like it. In truth, he always hated the latex barrier when it came to you.

Shivering briefly, you release an affectionate breath, a shaky inhale before cuddling into him. Used to this reaction by now, both of those bulky arms wrap around your back, holding you against his chest. He finds it endearing, your need for closeness, especially as the two of you come down.

Smoothing a hand over your head, he kisses the top of it, rumbling to you in that deep, entrancing voice, “You’re so good for me.”

And he means it in more ways than this. Truly, you bring out the niceness in him, whatever amount of it he has left. The longer you and Simon stayed together, the more you connected, the more you felt like you could really do this. Your relationship could be sustainable, and you could be vulnerable.

Every chance Simon got, he took to your side. In the training yard, he’d lift weights adjacent to your station. In the cafeteria, he always saved you a seat next to him. And in the debriefing room, he pulled up a chair for you beside him. And while the two of you were busy gravitating towards each other, your teammates were busy with eyeing your movements. It was starting to look suspicious.

“You alright, love?”

Even when he’s done, and his breaths have steadied, he rests inside you. He did this often, especially when you rode him. While your need for closeness was expressed with words, his was expressed with actions. And this action, was one of his favorites.

“Mhm,” Grinning, your eyes shut, your body weight resting comfortably on his chest. Removing your arms from around his neck, they instead loop around his wide midsection, hugging him.

He’d been trying to ignore the issue at hand, the issue that’s only an issue to him. And while you riding him was more than a good enough distraction, now, he was now in his head again. Feeling you wrap your arms around him softens something inside his heart, and now more than ever, he wants to keep you protected.

With a small grunt, he shifts, arms lifting behind your back. Listening closely, you can hear the velcro separating on his hand, and then the drop of a single glove onto the seat to your left. Simon’s warmth then envelopes your chest, the slow drag of his naked hand across your breasts. He caresses them fondly, before focusing on the right.

“Didn’t get to enjoy these much.” Your soldier murmurs, cupping your tit and pushing it up toward his waiting mouth.

Lips, warm and wet, wrap around your nipple, sucking softly on it. His palm is warm, fingers pressing into your smooth flesh. It’s his favorite part of you, after all. He knew it before even seeing their bare skin.

“Hm…” Reaching up to the back of his head, you release a relaxing breath. Your head drops back as you cradle him against your chest, feeling the passionate massage he begins to give them. “Love this, Si…”

“Mm,” He moans in response, eyes closing as he enjoys you.

He feels surrounded by you, and you by him. Resting like this together feels so special, almost sacred. You crave it. A profound sense of longing fills you, and you feel foolish, because he’s right here. He’s here with you and still, you can’t get enough.

Sliding your hands around to his cheeks, your head turns as you lean in. Lips press sweetly to his second skin, the black fabric covering his temple. And it makes him chuckle quietly, kissing the slope of your breast.

“Like my mask?”

“Mhm,” Your lips curl into a devilish grin while pressing against him, holding his head even closer to you.

“Do you…” With a deep breath, he lifts his head, eyes finding you. “Do you ever wish you could see my face?”

With this question, you still, looking at him with a quietly shocked expression. Swallowing, you think before speaking, knowing that your words need to be respectful and calculated. But it only takes one for a decent response that can also be truthful.

“Yes.”

Just barely nodding, Simon’s heart pounds inside his chest. Now that he knows this, he feels like he’s disappointed you.

“But I know you don’t want to show me.” You continue, surprising him. “And that’s okay.”

And you think this is the most innocent those deep brown eyes have ever looked. His brows raise beneath the mask, taken aback by your reaction.

“It really is, Si.” And your sweet smile capitalizes on your sentiment.

Your presence in Simon’s life, the grace you give him, it all still astounds him. Some six months later and still, you continue to bring purpose to his life every single day. He hasn’t quite realized it, but that’s exactly how he sees it.

Without another word spoken, his hand rises to the back of your head, bringing you down for a passionate kiss. Your own hands slide down to his jaw, petting lightly at the blonde stubble he has. And you count yourself lucky he’s even let you see that.

“Want a smoke with me?” Simon asks against your lip, nipping at your lower one when you grin.

“Sure, baby.”

Shifting onto one side of his hip, he grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket before settling back onto the seat. With one item going to his lips, the other is held up to you, quick to be taken by one of your hands. It’s endearing when he does this, silently asking for a bit of help, even if it’s as small as this.

His face, the features you’ve been allowed to see, light up from the small fire. The quiet sizzle of the joint hums in this small lull before he takes a breath in, fingers grabbing the end. Turning, he releases the smoke into the air, feeling your hand drop the lighter onto the seat beside him. And while this hushed pause should resemble a sense of peacefulness, it prompts a certain worry inside you.

“Si?”

“Yeah?” When his eyes return to you, they’re squinted slightly, eyebrows furrowed. But not in anger or annoyance. What’s bothering him?

“Are you okay?” Lifting your hand, you lay it over his cheek, fingertips brushing over that black mask. “You seem…quiet. Quieter than normal.” And your small poke at him makes both of you grin.

With a sigh, he lifts the cig, offering it to you and then watching you take it. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes when he says, “Don’t know how I feel about you tagging along, sweets.”

Without meaning to, he questions your abilities, the same abilities you’ve trained for years to gain. But you take his comment better than he expected.

“Yeah?” You chuckle, raising a brow as you tease, “Afraid I’ll show you up?” Another puff and you’re handing it back to him, curious about what’s going on inside that skull.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that.” Casually, he shakes his head, inhaling on his pass. “Place we’re going is… it’s not a place for you to be.”

“I know it’s dangerous, Si. That’s why I’m going, so I can help you guys.” You knew it, you fucking knew he’d have an issue with you coming. You just weren’t sure how deep that worry was.

And now, he’s silent for a minute, a long minute. Looking away from your gaze, those deep eyes wander to the window, searching for the right words to say. Something along the lines of… “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Awe…” Again, you’re teasing, poking fun to avoid the real conflict. Neither of you want to have a serious conversation, not when your entire life is one giant critical discussion. But you have to admit, you like seeing this side of him.

Leaning in, you nuzzle his temple, your voice turning quiet and sweet. “I like it when you’re soft with me, big boy. Makes me feel like you care.”

“‘Course I do.”

And when you snuggle even further into him, his eyes close, a heavy breath released from his nose. It’s a silent response, his body reacting to your genuine adoration for him. He makes sure to keep his head still, wanting you to continue the loving motion. And you do, reveling in the way his arm returns to circle around you.

It’s not about him doubting you, it’s about him protecting you. He knows you can handle yourself, and he found that incredibly attractive when you first met. But now? He just wants to keep you safe, make sure you stay on base and never have to see combat again. But Price was the one to call the shot this time.

On the other hand, Ghost is also worried about the team. Specifically, he’s worried about them discovering your relationship. No one knows about the two of you except for Johnny, and neither of you want anyone else to find out. And if you somehow get hurt out there, his emotions are sure to expose themselves. There’s not a single chance his affection for you won’t show, his angry and possessive nature sure to shine through. After that, they’re bound to figure it out.

“I’ll be with you,” Comes your gentle response. “How could I ever get hurt when I’m with you?”

Sweet, he thinks. But it’s not enough to reassure him.

The helo ride is easy, nothing that gives you jitters in any sort of way. The only thing you wish was different, was the view - there isn’t one. The entire ride is done with complete cover, not a window in sight as you all sit in the far back, strapped to your seats and waiting to be told otherwise.

Johnny had insisted you hunker down with him, he honestly wants to get to know you a bit more. Especially now that you’re dating his best friend. He also wanted to distract said friend; Simon needs to keep his head on straight. But Ghost wasn’t having any of that. Not because he was worried Soap would make a move, but because he promised himself you wouldn’t be leaving his side for even a second throughout this trip.

While sitting beside each other, you find yourself wanting him, yearning for his touch, to lean against his shoulder or even hold his hand. But the closest you two settle for is the touching of your knees. Around the boys, you manspread just like them. So, while leaning back in your seat, you do just that. And of course, Simon doesn’t move an inch. He likes your need for touch, it matches his quite nicely. It might even make him smile beneath his mask.

“Drop point,” Price announces, “Comin’ up fast.”

And upon command, the four of you release your buckles, standing to correct your straps. Simon eyes you from his peripheral as you adjust your vest, leaning down to check the pistol in your thigh holster and then the one secured to your stomach. He finds it attractive, watching you train your knowledge of weapons. But he shakes those thoughts out of his head. Right now, he’s making sure the way you’re loading them is correct.

Hovering above the designated location, each of you approaches the sliding door. Once Price tosses the rope down, he’s the first one on it, landing on the ground with a firm thud and immediately securing the area. Then, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. You’re last, and it’s for your best interest. It gives you the advantage of watching them, taking notes on how to do this. And when you finally secure your gloves and grab hold of the rope, you look to them on the ground. But it’s not the team you find. Grinning, your eyes immediately lock, his trained on you beneath that stoic mask. He’s standing at the bottom, staring up and waiting for you. And all he wants to do is tell you to stay, or at the very least, catch you. But all he can do is watch as you slide down, restraining himself from wrapping his arm around you once you’re on the ground.

His Reckoner gear is menacing, though his attire usually is. The black jacket matches the shawl slung loosely around his neck, draping down onto his chest. Shielding him from the rapidly growing winds is his outfit’s hood, tight around his head and mask. You find yourself favoring this look, so dark and mysterious. It’s how you first saw him when you met. And you’re dressed similarly, your entire outfit made up of black and gray canvas, a scarf around your neck and gloves on your hands, with your own hood up, too.

Only a small part of you tries to separate yourself from him, but it doesn't reach surface level, not even close. Regardless of wanting to hide your relationship, you stick to each other like glue. Taking his position at the rear of the group, he makes sure to keep his strides in line with you, matching your pace expertly as you continue forward.

The silence between you is comfortable, familiar, and again, you find yourself longing for him. With a devious thought creeping into your mind, you let your hand fall to your side, wandering further enough to swipe your pinky across his thumb.

“Think you’re ready for this?” A deep, Scottish accent suddenly asks.

Jumping sharply, your hand instantly flinches away from your lieutenant. “W-What?”

“Bit jumpy, there?”

Smirking, you roll your eyes, hands grabbing the straps of your vest. “I’m just fine, Johnny.” And then, you nod, feigning an air of smugness. “What about you?”

“Born ready, sweetheart.”

Ghost huffs. “Born a pretty boy.” But even he’s grinning as he says it.

“Fuckin’ grump,” Soap teases, walking backward and just ahead of you two so he can continue talking. “We’re only an hour in.”

“And still needing to secure our position.” Dad - Price, snaps, reminding Soap to keep his voice down.

At this, Johnny’s eyes widen, his body jerking around before jogging forward to catch up with the rest of the group. You chuckle at his reaction, but Ghost doesn’t make another sound as you continue. He’s too busy with his own thoughts to converse with you.

Flurries of snow buzz around your covered heads, sticking to the fabric of your scarves, the hairs of your eyelashes and the scruff on the boys’ chins. It brings about a certain childlike bliss, a winter wonderland in the midst. Smiling innocently at the beautiful landscape around you, those joyful emotions soon dissipate alongside your captain’s voice.

“Ice ahead.” He declares, signaling for the rest of you to ready yourselves. And with a deep breath, that’s just what you attempt to do.

“Grab your ice axe.” Simon murmurs, twisting around to grab his own.

“I know.” You sass, reaching back for the tools in your pack.

Easily, he dismisses your attitude. All he wants is for you to be prepared, adding on, “A bundle of rope, too.

Approaching the mountain, you ready yourself. Almost as if staring a beast in the eye, you stand flat on your feet, staring up at the vast landscape. It’s intimidating, this imposing piece of nature. Familiar winds sweep across the rocky edges, brushing the snow from its various levels. And beneath it lay thick layers of ice, sheet after sheet sliding down the summit’s side.

“You and I can go first, get to the top fast as we can.” Simon decides, planting a hand on your lower back and ushering you toward the front of the group.

“Why?”

“Let’s go.” Easily, Simon pushes his way forward, right beside you.

His added attention to your every move is noticeable within the group. And honestly, it’s starting to irritate you. To an extent, it’s insulting, especially in front of the other men. But you need to focus on the task at hand, and that doesn’t include any of your emotions about him.

Reaching up, a small grunt is released as you swing your pick, digging it into the ice. And once Simon is sure you have your footing, he starts up right alongside you. He’s below your stance and slightly to your right, watching your steps while trying to keep his own in check. But to his surprise, you’re doing fairly well for your first time. The burn in your muscles is nothing compared to the determination to prove Price right. He won’t regret bringing you on this mission.

However, repeatedly hoisting your body up while trying to find your footing is becoming increasingly difficult as you go on, gravity beginning to weigh heavy against your body. Every step is met with a disgruntled groan or grunt, with Ghost’s echoing below you. Eventually, you start to hear the rest of the team’s noises, each man climbing up at their own pace.

“You alright, lass?”

“Ye-ah,” Comes your breathy response, releasing an airy laugh. “This isn’t so h–hard.”

You’re speaking as you climb, with every other word coming out between some type of guttural noise. And further beneath your feet, Johnny laughs in return.

“McTavish, watch your footing.” Price chides, his voice hurried and a bit frantic. It startles you. “McTavish!”

Breaking open your seemingly sound world is the sudden cracking of ice, your eyes going wide. The sound of frozen water splitting between the five of you echoes along the summit’s climb, and soon after, your teammates’ yells, too.

“Soap!”

Glancing down, you barely have time to react before Ghost is barking at you. “Head up!”

Instantly, your head snaps upward, breaths labored as worry consumes you. Your ears ring with the sudden spike of adrenaline forcing blood through your veins, heart pumping from the appearance of your base instincts.

“Keep going!” He continues to shout, “That’s an order, Bones!”

With everything in you, you want to look down, especially when you hear the boys’ continuation of panicked shouts. But beside you, Ghost’s movements pick up, your own now excelling forward, too.

Simon’s chest heaves beside you as he scrambles up the side of the mountain, your movements now just as fast. Stab after stab, you hurl your arms upward against the ice, forcing the axe into the thick sheets.

“S-Simon.”

“Keep going.” Is all he says, all he’s able to say.

And in the blink of an eye, you’re at the top curve. Simon hauls himself over the side, immediately leaning over the cliff’s edge to reach for your hand.

“Take it! Take it now!”

“Price!” Gaz yells in the distance, a heavy thud heard at the bottom of the cliff.

“John.” You barely whimper, thinking the worst has come.

The firm grip of your lieutenant’s hand suddenly wraps around your wrist, yanking you up and over the edge. You land on your stomach with a hard unff, Simon’s hand now settling over your lower back. He can’t see anything, a thick dusting of snow covering the lower half of their climb. For a moment, he thinks about yelling, but chooses to flick on his comms instead.

“Price?” He questions into the mic, eyes searching frantically for any one of them. “Soap?”

“We’re here.”

“What the bloody hell happened?”

“Wrong, wrong move.” Johnny huffs through the link. “Ice cracked, Price fell. Me shortly after; Gaz was still close to the ground.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Just a bit.” Price finally answers, and this is when you move to sit up. But Simon’s firm hand on your back keeps you down. “I’ll be fine, just a sore back.”

“Orders?” Now that he knows no one is severely injured, he needs to know the team’s next moves. He is second in command, after all.

“Simon?” Again, you try to push yourself up, but the pressure he applies becomes firmer, his fingers curling into your jacket.

“Stay.” He demands, his voice dark and stern. If you were anyone else, you’d think it was a warning.

“We’ll have to trek around, but…” Trailing off for a moment, the captain finishes with, “It’ll add a day to our hike.”

A moment of silence passes, and Simon leans away from the cliff, settling beside you. Finally, he lets you up, turning his head as he watches you gather your bearings beside him.

“Hike on,” Price decides. “Secure the safe house, we’ll be a day behind. This path is lost.”

“No reconvene?” Ghost clarifies, wondering if the team should get their heads on straight after being separated like this. And upon this suggestion, Price grows silent in thought.

“Setting up camp would be smart. Give us a rest, some time to calm down and gather ourselves.” He finally agrees, then declaring, “We’ll stay for the night; right thinking, Ghost. We’re to be up and moving no later than dawn, am I clear?”

“Clear. I’ll expect your comms in twenty-four.”

“Affirmative. Bravo Six, out.”

With that, Simon stands, your eyes trailing up his large figure while he adjusts his gear. Labored breaths continue to form within your lungs, now stung from the harsh winter air.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re heading off on our own.” Your partner confirms, brushing the snow from his pants.

“How are they? Is anyone hurt?” The comms transferred to his earpiece, you were only able to hear his responses.

“Nothing severe, they’re choosing a different path. It’ll add a day, but Price wants us to continue on.” Tilting your head, your curious expression prompts further information from him. “We’ll make camp for the night though, give us time to rest.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll locate and secure the safehouse, wait for them to arrive.” Leaning down, he holds a hand out, helping you up once you take it. “You alright?”

Now that you’re alone, he grabs your shoulders, rubbing them for both comfort and warmth. “You’re shivering.”

“Just cold.” Shrugging, you brush it off as just that, feeling chilly. Though, it’s partially due to shock, and Simon knows it. It’s been more than five years since you were last in the field; maybe you weren’t fully ready for this.

“You’re alright, love.” Guiding you to his chest, he sighs, holding the back of your head. “No one’s hurt.”

All you do is nod against him, pulling up your big girl pants and shoving aside your emotions. He’s right, everything’s fine, just a small bump in the road.

“We should make camp.” He suggests, the surrounding scenery darkening as he speaks.

Your current location is far enough away to make a small fire and not draw any attention from the targeted enemy. So naturally, it’s the first thing Simon does, right after finding a small patch of brush for you to set the tent. It’s a small thing, just barely big enough to fit one man. But neither of you mind squeezing inside together. You don’t have sleeping bags, but what you do have are Mylar thermal blankets. Which will have to do, and are actually useful in these situations.

“Bones.” Ghost quietly calls, and when you look over your shoulder, you find him huddled near the fire. He then jerks his head to the side, beckoning for you. “Cm’over here.”

While rubbing your hands together, you make your way over to him, sitting down by the little fire he’s built. It’s enough to bring you warmth, though, the pulsing embers doing wonders for your frozen appendages.

“Any better?”

“A little better.” With your hands outstretched toward the flames, you nod, eyes trained on the wispy bits of fire floating through the wind.

Upon your response, he scooches closer, positioning himself behind you. Here, he spreads his legs, laying them on either side of your own and pulling you in between them, right up against his chest. You smile as he drags you back, allowing him to hold you between his legs. His cold, covered chin then finds your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your midsection.

Rumbling to you quietly, he asks again, “Any better?”

The smile on your face burns brighter than the fire. “A lot better.”

Shifting slightly, you relax into his body, basking in the fact that you can so openly cuddle up together. And when he feels your entire weight fall into him, he hums, kissing your shoulder through the mask. He’s become such an affectionate man around you.

Inside, your heart beats for him. Thinking back to the scenario on the cliff, you replay Simon’s protective acts in your head. His verbal directions, both before and during the event, his physical motions of pulling you up to safety and then keeping a hand on your back.

“Si?”

“Hm?” He returns, mouth full of a protein bar. While you ponder your question, he hands you one, too.

“Why did you hold me down? By my back?”

He chews his food much slower now, thinking. Never before has he thought through his responses so thoroughly before meeting you. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing; he’s quite frightened of it, actually.

“Didn’t know if anyone was hurt.” He eventually returns, and you’re confused until he finishes his statement. “Didn’t want you seeing something like that.”

And while you appreciate the meaning behind his actions, it prompts a certain fear within you. He can’t continue to fight your battles for you, not when you’re out in the field. He has to be himself, not a modified version just because you’re here. He can’t be Simon, he has to be Ghost. And still, you can’t help but feel grateful for him, all of him.

“Thank you.”

The day was cold but the night was frigid, your thermal blankets doing little to shield you from the frozen hell you were in. What helped build heat beneath the metallic blankets, though, were your bodies. It was Simon who suggested it, and you didn’t think twice once he did. There was nothing sexual behind it, only concern and genuine care.

As soon as you were at his side, huddled within the tent, his arms snaked tightly around your stomach. Naked beneath the crinkly cover, Simon hugged you to his body, not only for heat but for comfort. His masked face easily found its way to your neck, body curling around yours like a protective outer shell. And in this way, he warmed you, inside and out.

Feeling Simon’s naked body served to bring you a sense of relaxation you didn’t think you’d find on this mission. Being able to sleep beside him was also an incredibly relieving act you didn't think you’d get to experience while deployed. Now that it’s just the two of you, you’re free to bask in each other’s company, reveling in the sweet way your souls connect. It’s not just about physical attraction for you two, not anymore. What you have is chemical. You’ve become each other’s best friend - companions; it’s just natural for you to be together. Even like this, pressed against each other in complete nakedness without an ounce of sexual intention in the air, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, not for either of you. Those bulky forearms nestled right beneath your breasts, feeling the smooth curves lay against him. And his flaccid length pressed against your backside, his strong hold keeping you nice and close throughout the night. Neither of you cared. There wasn’t room for insecurity between the two of you, not after all you’ve been through.

“You’re my girl.” Simon whispered to you, mask lifted just enough for him to kiss your ear.

His eyes were closed as he spoke, body tired and sore and lulling him to sleep. But not before murmuring, “You’re mine; mine to keep.”

But that was last night. This morning isn’t so sweet.

While Simon continued to display his ever-growing and extremely doting personality, the weather was still acting like a petty bitch. Wild winds surged through your small camp when you awoke, gathering your things once dawn hit the sky. Simon stamped out the fire, you packed up the tent, and off you went.

“How much farther is it again?”

“About twelve kilometers.”

The dramatic groan you exude makes his lips curl beneath the mask, eyes turning to witness your adorably irritated face.

“C’mon,” He teases, that smirk revealed through his tone. “You can make it.”

“Can I borrow your mask?” You then ask, a grin curling on your lips.

Rolling his eyes, they land on you, an unamused expression swirling within them.

“Look, you’re being stingy with it.” Continuing with your charade, you then add, “It’s freezing out here. My cheeks are getting all chapped.”

At this, he huffs out a single laugh. “Looks pretty damn cute to me.”

It’s interesting, you think. All of this started with you making fun of his mask, and now, you adore it. You adore him.

Both of you are thankful for the common knowledge of swift and silent movement as you trek on through the harsh, mountainous terrain. The quicker you get there, the quicker you’re able to rest. Price mentioned that the cabin even had heat and running water, a true reprieve for you all. At least, for the time being. Besides, you can’t get too carried away just yet. You still have to secure the area before enjoying it.

“Looks to be a bit easier from here.” Ghost announces, coming to stand on top of a ridge you haven’t yet arrived at. But when you do, you’re met with flat, snowy terrain.

“Thank god.”

“C’mon, hasn’t been that hard.”

And he’s right. Aside from that icy cliff incident, this hike has been a piece of cake. Nothing to complain about on your end, really; messing with Simon was just fun sometimes. He always fell for your antics, too. Something about you acting weak and frail just made him want to care for you. And that’s something you’d never protest.

Walking with you was nice and easy; you understood him and his preference for silence. It’s a trait you both shared. Why speak if there’s nothing to be said?

“Have we got a plan?” Simon then says, deciding this is something that should definitely be said.

“About?”

“The safe house, how we’re going to secure it.”

“Well, I don’t really have any experience in searching for and disarming traps. I think that’s on you, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Buddy, it makes him chuckle. “And what will you do?”

“Cover your six?” It’s a suggestion; you can still be helpful. “I can scope out the treeline, make sure Price was right about enemies not crossing over the lines.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

And what a good plan it was. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine as soon as you arrived at the safe house, finally reaching your destination in the early evening. Either you just work well together, or you were simply eager for some rest. Likely both.

“Scanning.” Keeping your eye on the surrounding treeline, you speak into your comms, listening to Ghost rustle through the brush not too far off in the distance. “Movement.”

“Friendlies?” Ghost immediately returns, fidgeting with something on his head. You can hear it through your small speaker, assuming he’s handling a trip-wire.

Upon further inspection, you release the tight breath you’d been holding. “Deer.”

“Copy.” He returns, going about his given task.

Knowing you have his back makes his job that much easier. And if he’s being completely honest, seeing you with a gun in your hand, your expert eye skimming the treeline, it was attractive. Turned him on, actually, as much as he needed to focus he just couldn’t help it. He admires your work ethic. Even when he had watched your body climb up the sheets of ice, he admired it, eyeing the way your muscles twisted and flexed beneath the canvas of your pants, the way he could see right up between your legs. It’s a wonder he didn’t get even a semi while climbing. But he’s thankful you hadn’t distracted him to that extent.

“Clear.” Simon grumbles into the comms, “Moving south.”

Shifting in the trees, you stay adjacent to him, watching his figure from behind. You’re ready to face any possible enemies, but are thrilled to find this portion of the job has been just as easy as the rest.

“Clear.” He then repeats, finalizing his task. “Moving in.”

Desperately, he wants to relax, find his way inside and just be for a moment. Price said there’d be heat and running water, and Christ, is he looking forward to that.

“Bones?”

“Copy.”

“You following?”

“Coming in.” You confirm, walking up from behind, your position still crouched and eyes zeroed in on the treeline.

Walking into the clearing toward the small home, you almost feel naked, exposed. Every step you make is in Ghost’s footprint, following his every movement to avoid the traps. And once Ghost is on the wooden steps at the front, you glance over your shoulder, taking one last look at the perimeter.

“C’mon,” Simon almost coos, fatigue seeping into his voice. “We’re clear, love.”

Typing in the code Price had given him, Simon unlocks the door and with a harsh nudge, makes his way in. The house is made up of one central room, a side bedroom, bathroom, and small kitchen space. In the living area is a single couch, and further in the bedroom you see a mattress. Hopefully something to help Simon’s back.

“Might hear a bit of noise,” Simon says, walking off toward the kitchen. “I’m kicking on the furnace.”

“That is fine by me.” Breathing out a sigh of relief, you let your body fall onto the couch, dropping your pack to the floor. “I could use some warmth.”

An abrupt thud rattles the baseboards as the rusty furnace burns to life, a small whoosh of dust fluttering from the vents. The soot briefly filling the air disturbs your lungs, a small bout of coughs overcoming you. But for Simon, it does nothing, his mask guarding him from any of the pollen-like pollution.

Casually, he strides your way, plopping down beside you on the couch. He sits alongside a long and raspy sigh, his body right against yours as he wraps his arms around you. Apparently, one of his favorite things to do.

“C’mere,” He says quietly, pulling you to lean back against his chest. And he enjoys it when you snuggle into him, resting against his firmness.

Placing his fingers beneath your chin, he lifts your head, and when you turn to meet him you discover his bare lips. They’re dry and chapped, both of your mouths as they press together, but neither of you really care. You’re yearning for each other, and very suddenly aware that you have an entire cabin to yourselves. And as Simon holds your face with his gloved hand, his kisses become sweet, sensual slides and meetings that make your heart beat.

“How are you?” He asks in that deep, rumbly tone, still full of genuine care.

“Tired,” You breathe out with a short laugh. “Sore.”

“Mm,” Your love nods, gifting you with another small kiss. It’s short and sweet, the gentle stamp of his lips. “Why don’t you have a shower with me?” He’d eyed the bed in the backroom, too, thinking about how wonderful it might feel to lay down in it after washing yourselves clean. But in this moment, that’s not at all what you’re thinking about.

Is he going to let me see his face?

You’re shocked he even asked, you never thought you’d get an opportunity like this with him. And so, with your eyes flickering up to meet his, you nod. “Okay.”

“Won’t be too luxurious,” His voice rumbles across your skin, dark eyes staring down at your charming little face. “Grimy shower, no soap. Just enough water to wash the sweat off our skin.”

Sleepily, you smile. “That’s good enough for me.”

The strength he continues to use even beneath the weight of fatigue is astounding. You’re not quite sure how he has it in him, but he holds you up from behind, cradling your body in his arms. And it’s not like you weigh much, but it still impresses you. There’s not much Simon does that hasn’t impressed you.

Warmly, the water cascades down your body, droplets rolling over the hills and valleys of your skin. And it’s so pleasurable that you moan, eyes closing as your head tilts back to rest against him. Briefly, it frightens him, his eyes dipping down to your relaxed face. He’s reassured by the small flutter of your lashes, a display of respect for him. Before getting in, Simon told you not to look at his face. And while it made your heart sink, you really should’ve known better than to expect that from him.

On his end, this is just as nice, if not even more. With his mask off, he uses one hand to run down his face, then ruffling it through his short hair.

“Simon?” You ask, feeling him reach up, brushing water through his locks.

“Mm?”

Still temporarily blind, you ask him, “What color is your hair?”

That deep laugh bounces off the tile walls, and it makes you smile, heart beating with a certain affection you’re not yet ready to admit to him.

“What color do you think it is?”

“Well, your stubble is blonde, and your happy trail…” Grinning, you reach behind you, fingers petting at the damp patch of hairs leading down to his groin.

“Blonde.” Simon repeats, both hands returning to your hips.

Leaning down, his head tilts, lips brushing your cheek as he says, “That’s what I am.”

For a moment, when you feel his hands roam, you assume it to be sexual. But it isn’t, not at first anyways. While you bask in this new knowledge, Simon washes your body, hands running over your shoulders and arms, your stomach, your hips and thighs.

“You’re tense.” That grumbling voice says, rubbing your shoulders. “Give you a proper rub when I bring you back to base.” And the way he says it makes you swoon, something about his wording making you feel cared for, protected.

“You’d do that for me?”

For a flash, you consider the danger of your situation. You’re both living in a fantasy right now, showering together for the first time, enjoying each other’s company while you’re supposed to be guarding the safe house. But apparently, Simon’s quite sure of the absence of any danger.

Shifting slightly, your Ghost’s broad palms rise to cup your tits, groaning softly into your ear as his head dips down to your neck. Here, his lips work over you, kissing you sensually beneath the warm spray.

“‘Course I would.”

When you sigh, your head falls back a bit further, truly exposing your neck. And this gives him the perfect opportunity for his dominant hand to lift a little higher, fingers encircling your neck. A spike of adrenaline hits your blood, your pulse jumping when it happens. You keep your eyes from flashing open, instead flashing him your grin.

“I want you, sweetheart.” Simon openly admits, his firmly toned body pressing against your back. “While there’s no one around… no one here but you and me…”

“Baby,” Reaching back, you use one arm to wrap around his neck, fingers combing up through his hair. It sends a tingle down your entire spine, feeling his full head of hair for the first time. “I want you.”

“Just us, alone…” He’s trailing off, voice murmuring beneath the shower’s loud stream. “Pull as many pretty sounds from you as I like.”

Chuckling, you return with, “How are you not exhausted?”

“I’m never too tired for you.” He easily responds, “Cheesy, but it’s true. I want every second I can get with you.”

It’s really strange to you, seeing your relationship now versus the start of it. At the beginning, Simon was cold, completely cut off from any outside communication, and that’s how he liked it. He didn’t have anyone close to him, and so, he didn’t have anyone to lose. A man free of commitment, free of any domestic responsibility; tied to his military base, and nothing more. But then you showed up, and made him feel things he never wanted to experience. It was something he blocked out, but his defenses weren’t strong enough to daunt you. And now, instead of avoiding your affections, he returned them tenfold every time he could.

Another pull in your chest, muscles tightening, stomach fluttering. You want to tell him, be open and honest just as he’s pushed himself to be with you. But you don’t know if this is the right time, you don’t know if there will ever be a ‘right time’ with him.

But before you can fully process that, Simon finishes washing your body and his, wiping away the sweat and grime of the past couple days. He even snakes a hand down between your legs, bringing water to rinse you while pressing his lips to your ear.

“Turn it off.” Gentle breath brushes over your skin, both broad palms on your hips as you bend over to do it. “Stay here.”

There aren’t any towels in the cabin, there isn’t much of anything, really. But he moves out into the living room to grab a random blanket from the couch, returning to wrap you in it.

“All we have.”

“That’s okay.” Your smile is sweet as you stare up at him, now with his mask on again. He’d dried himself briefly before coming back to you, and now, he guides you to the bedroom.

“C’mere,” Turning you around to face him, Simon sighs, lifting his mask. “Give me those lips.”

Easily, he pushes forward, guiding you down to the bed as he distracts you with his mouth. The blanket lays open around you as it happens, revealing your naked body to him once again. And on either side of your head, those strong forearms hold your soldier up, his mouth delicate as he begins to consume you.

One large hand finds its way to your thigh, parting your legs. With gentle eagerness, he settles between them, lowering himself to kiss your neck.

“So beautiful,” He murmurs, eyes closed as he shakes his head. “Even through all this, through the hike and weather.”

“Shut up.” You return, laughing playfully at his words.

“I mean it.” Simon instantly responds, voice gruff as he speaks to you in that lowered tone. “You’re the only woman to ever do this to me.”

Your loving lieutenant speaks with a sense of urgency, voice breathy and raspy and full of the deep accent you adore so completely. Truthfully, it’s the most emotional confession he’s ever given, and it stuns you to your core. In your eyes, he might as well have told you he loves you. It’s likely the closest you’ll ever get to it.

“Simon…” Reaching up, your hands cup his cheeks, wishing now more than ever to see more.

“You mean something to me…” He admits, slowly moving down your body.

As he creeps down your frame, your hands pull away from his face, feeling his own explore you in the most intimate way. Both of them secure to your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze before his lips find them. He’s soft with it, mouthing at the delicate bends of your body.

“A perfect treat,” Ghost grins, lips curling over your skin. “All for me.”

That devilish smirk only grows wider when you spread your legs for him, watching with bated breath. Simon always made this such an event, laying you out on any surface or bed and making you wait for his every move.

“Just look at that,” Your sharp inhale makes him hum in admiration, using his thickest digit to thumb at your glistening lips. “Those creamy juices just leaking out of your cunt…”

“Simooonnn,” Thrusting your hips up, you huff dramatically, tossing your head back onto the bed. “Please.”

Usually, he’d laugh, but he doesn’t want to drag it out this time. He wants to indulge in you while he can, before anyone else shows up. And so, he fully parts your lips, tongue laying out to swipe through them. His breaths waft heavily across your center, smooth lips engulfing your sex. He sucks on you, already slurping up the combination of your slick and his spit. Steadily, he strokes you with his tongue, digging it deep inside your warmth. But then he’s pulling himself back, using both hands to spread your legs, pulling apart your sticky lips.

“Christ, I love this.” His voice is thick, eyes unwavering from the space between your thighs. Licking through these delicate petals… right down into that hole.”

Lifting himself ever so slightly, he laps at your clit, tongue circling the hood as he toys with it. The way your hips quiver gifts him with encouragement, with confidence. He knows your body, and he’s going to use that knowledge against you.

“Come on, babe. Make those beautiful noises for me.” Reaching forward, he grabs onto the meat of your ass, squeezing it in hand. “There’s no one here to listen but me, just me…”

“Ngh,” Arching your back, you cry out for him, both from the force of his hand and the way his tongue flicks against the peak of your sex. “Fuck.”

“Come on.” His breathy encouragements continue to flow, his lips soft and wet as he licks through you. “Moan for me.”

“B-Baby, yes…”

He’s sucking on you, lips smacking against the wetness of your cunt as he basks in its taste. The more you writhe beneath his face, the firmer his grip on you becomes, until you’re unable to move yourself at all. Your hips still, crushed comfortably beneath his weight as both of those veiny forearms settle overtop them.

“Yes.” Reaching out, you wish so desperately to be met with the wonderful sensation of his golden hair. But alas, it’s that goddamn mask. Fingers curling tightly into the fabric, you cling to him, chest puffing out sultry gasps into the dusty cabin air. “I, I ca…”

“More.”

“Simon,”

While mumbling against your skin, Simon’s deep, dark eyes flutter up to your gorgeous face. His hands dig into your hips, fingers pressing into the muscles that make you so delicious. Every time you’re near, whether it’s sexual or otherwise, he adores the way you say his name. The way you call for him, reaching out for protection, for friendship, for love. You reach out to him for love, he knows it.

Massaging you with his hands, Simon’s grunts vibrate through your legs and hips, his mouth insistent. And when you meet his eyes, meet that possessive, predatory gaze, you’re done for. The entire sensation of it rushes through your body, opening up and completely letting go. Your back arches, jaw dropping as you listen to him mouth at your quivering cunt like it’s a feast. Heavy grunts and humid breaths, the wet sound of your juices mixing with his spit. Your hips shake from it, lungs constricting from the euphoria tightening your veins.

“Si-imon!” Eyes pinching shut, you revel in it, hands pressing to the back of his head as you reach out for more of his touch. But it’s as if you can’t bring him any closer than he already is.

He lets you hold him, lets your body roll through the motions. But it takes everything in him not to immediately crawl over your body and capture your lips. So, he continues to lick you, letting himself get lost in the taste of it, the smell of it. Shoving his tongue inside, he can feel your hole quiver around him, can feel the way his taste buds react to your cum.

“Baby, baby.” Simon’s tongue swirls around your clit, menacing orbs trained directly on you once again. “Baby…”

And all at once, he’s on you again, lifting himself from between your legs and reaching out to wrench your jaw open.

“Give me those fucking lips.”

Crashing his mouth to your own comes alongside his heated moan, the sound of wet gasps and hot breaths instantly filling the air. He’s pressing himself into you, crushing you comfortably beneath his weight. And the hand he has on your cheek only further secures its grip, keeping your mouth open for him.

“You want me?” He always loved to hear you say it.

“Yes, yes baby, please.” When he pulls away enough to speak, your hands shoot up to his cheeks. “Simon, please.” But then you see him pause, the glimmer of a smirk pulling on his lips. Those deep, mocha orbs stare down at you as he waits. He wants to hear you say it, and you know it.

“I want you.”

If it were any other situation, Simon might’ve held back, might’ve made you repeat a few more words just to really get himself going. But he’s already throbbing against your leg, precum leaking onto your skin since the moment he laid you on the bed. The rest of them could be here any moment, likely in the morning but you never know with Price. He has to take advantage of this while he can.

Leaning on that decorated forearm, Simon’s free hand lowers to his shaft, gripping the base. With his eyes dipping down, he takes a beat to lick his lips and catch his breath. He’s hot, swollen, his pleasure pulsing as it slides across your outer lips. And you pull him in while he does it, mouthing at his neck and trying your damnedest to keep his skin free of any visible sin.

“Such a perfect pussy…” He whispers, sliding his entire length in.

It stretches you, prompting your legs to widen as you take him. The sight of this makes the corner of his lips quirk, a devilish glint in his eye twinkling from your submissiveness.

“That’s it,” A rough sigh is punched from his chest when he’s fully seated, when the firm drag of his cock slows to a dull throb between your legs.

Through the carnal desire clawing through his chest, he pauses, heart beating fondly from the way you nuzzle against his skin. It’s intimate, it isn’t just lust. And as soon as he comes down a bit from that blind passion and excitement, his arms encase your head, cradling you in them.

“Sweetheart,” Brushing the tip of his nose across your own, he draws your attention. Your soft breaths make you seem so small, and in contrast, him so large. You put so much trust into his hands.

Dipping down, Simon kisses you, distracting you with the sweet press of his lips while retracting his hips. Driving his pelvis forward again, he listens to your shrill gasp as it escapes your throat, fingernails already digging into his skin. Repeatedly, he seeks your warmth, pleasure flowing through his system as you give him this tempting sin. That’s really what it is to him; love is a sin.

But he takes every bit of it like a man that’s been promised to hell.

Steady and continuous is the pace of his hips, pelvis slapping between your open thighs. Repeatedly, he breaches your entrance with a girth you’ve desperately missed, his entire body pressing into you. And now that he’s inside, that free hand lifts, eyes watching your bouncing chest before grabbing at it. He paws at your seductive curves like it’s the first time he’s ever touched them, mouth finding the slope of your shoulder and neck as he kisses your skin with wet, parted lips.

“This is just what I need,” Simon groans, growls. “You’re just what I want. You know that, don’t you?”

The moans you once kept silent now burst from your lips, grinding your hips up in time with his thrusts as best you can. Grasping for his shoulders, you feel yourself go weak, the fat head of his cock hitting you deep.

“You know that, right?” He repeats, fondling your chest with firm grabs. But when you still don’t answer, he grunts out his disapproval, head lifting to dig his covered nose into your cheek. And you know better than to not answer him.

“Yes, Simon…” It comes out as a sigh, eyes fluttering open to see those deep, endlessly brown eyes.

And it makes him grin, chuckling breathily. You’re drunk on him.

“Good.” He mumbles against your lips, the hand on your chest now sliding down your side. It follows the dip of your waist and hips, smoothing over the side of your ass until he reaches your thigh. And then he’s grabbing you, hauling your leg further up on his waist, and in turn giving him access for a harsh smack.

“Pretty girl… you’re mine.”

“Simon.”

“Look at me.” Grabbing your jaw, he turns your head in his direction. And the force of it snaps your eyes open, staring up at your enormous soldier. “Look at me when you say my name.”

“Simon…”

Emotion swirls inside your chest until you feel like it’s about to burst, dire need and complete infatuation taking over your body. He’s all consuming, something you can't and wouldn’t ever want to run away from. It’s clawing at you from the inside out, your care for him, your genuine adoration. And you don’t want to say it because you’re sure he won’t react too nicely, he won’t accept it, but you can’t help it. You really can’t, and all at once, you’re saying it.

“Simon, Si, I love,”

Briefly, he stutters, both his hips and lungs. But he keeps going, he’s sure that’s not what you’re saying. It’s not what you should be saying.

“I love you, Si.”

The embrace you hold with him couldn’t be more intense, your chests pressed together as your arms loop tightly around his neck. Something inside him feels like it’s breaking, cold heart cracking with something akin to warmth. If he had the chance, he would’ve begged you not to say it. You don’t need to fall for him like that, not in this way, not in this lifetime. It hasn’t been kind to him, and he, in turn, hasn’t been a kind man. Any semblance of good intention left in his body has been given to you and… he figures that’s it, isn’t it? Is that what love is? Giving someone everything you have? Every piece of good you’ve been made with?

“Bones,” Simon eventually returns, hips slowing until he stills. Resting in this lull with you, he can practically feel your anxiety, your vulnerability. You’ve given him everything you have, too. “I… do.”

“You don’t have to say it.” Comes your instant, tiny squeak.

Out of either vulnerability or insecurity, his head finds your neck, stuffing its way into concealment. “I do.” He says again, squeezing you with his entire body. “I do.”

With a firm sigh, he decides to give this to you; you deserve this - he’s going to give this to you.

“I love you… too.”

“Baby, you really don’t have to say it.” You can practically feel the uncertainty seeping through his skin as he clings to you, seeking security. Stroking the back of his head, you hold him, wrapping your legs around his waist, too.

“I do.” He continues to repeat, now nodding. “I love you.”

“Are you joking me?” Soap practically scoffs, a look of disgust crawling across his face.

“Sorry?” Ghost returns, generally unphased as he inhales another drag of his cig.

“Could you be more obvious?”

At this, Simon’s face turns stern, snuffing out the joint on the couch’s arm before dropping his hand to your leg. A simple gesture of yes, yes I can.

You’d woken up in Simon’s arms, limbs tangled together beneath a worn and tattered scrap of fabric one might call a blanket. Counting yourselves lucky, you opened your eyes to an empty cabin once again. The team hadn’t arrived just yet.

It took some convincing, but you finally got Simon out of bed and dressed. You didn’t want to draw any suspicion should they walk in on you like this. And so, you settled together on the couch. While you laid down, snuggling your feet onto his lap, Simon pulled out another cigarette. It was relaxing, not only being alone but sharing this habit.

The morning was cold but comfortable enough for you to fall back asleep, body resting easily on his sturdy lap. It humored him, seeing just how tired this mission has made you; and you’re only halfway through. But while you were fine spending your time getting some shut eye, Simon was having difficulty fighting his natural instincts. Now that you’ve said it, admitted it, he’s worried. The place you’re in is dangerous and admitting something so precious makes the situation that much more stressful. It also makes him that much more protective.

And so, while you laid resting against him, Simon pulled out his pistol, resting it against his knee with the barrel pointed towards the front door. If anyone were to come in here, they’d have to go through him first.

Lucky for him, though, it turned out to be the boys.

“Lieutenant.” Price nodded, watching Ghost return the gesture.

Lowering the gun, Simon watched as Price and Gaz made their way into the bedroom to set their things down, leaving Soap with the two of you. And that’s when he voiced his concerns, that deep Scottish scoff making itself known.

“Real discrete.” He comments before hearing the captain shout from the room.

“Bit messy in here.” Price remarks, “Messier than I’d last left it. You two do some good sleeping in here?”

“Nah,” Ghost returns with a grin only Johnny can see. “Slept out here, Cap.”

When you hear Simon’s booming voice, you finally wake again, meeting the azure eyes of your friendly sergeant. “Hey, Soap.”

And he can’t bring himself to be any bit annoyed with you. “Hey, gorgeous.”

It’s meant as a friendly compliment, of course, but Ghost squeezes your calf, nonetheless.

“Alright,” Price booms, stomping into the room. “Let’s circle up. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

Already, he hates this. The entire atmosphere has shifted from light and lazy to dark and perilous. Simon can feel his heart rate increasing, his breaths deep and dragging. The mere thought of you in the field makes him want to jump up and wrap you in his arms, drag you away and hide you somewhere safe. What he hates even more than the possibility of that happening is the fact that he allowed it, he’s allowed this to happen. It wasn’t exactly his call to make, but he would’ve made it, and he didn't.

He’s made his bed, and this time, he’s got to lay in it.

So, without much choice, he watches his men regroup in front of him, with his partner sitting up to join in. Price tosses out the maps, Gaz whips out the compass, and Johnny’s already pulling out snacks. Pulling down his mask, Simon releases a harsh sigh, nothing that really draws anyone’s attention, though. He’s pretty much always cranky, and with you here, that trait has grown tenfold.

When Simon reaches for your hand on the couch, your eyes widen. What the hell is he doing? But before you can react, and before anyone else has a chance to see, Johnny tosses a protein bar at the lieutenant.

“Johnny, what the fuck?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Johnny scolds outwardly, scowling at his closest friend.

Price can feel something lingering in the air, an awkward silence, a secret. But he pushes it away. Glancing between his teammates, he clasps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

Here we go.

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