#hard of hearing deceit

[coryosbaby]

I am BEGGING you to write about hannigram x innocent fem reader. mayyyybee featuring age gap and breeding? :) she just asks them "what does break my belt mean?" and oh..

Caretaker… Hannigram x fem! Reader

Synopsis: it’s up to Will and Hannibal to take care of you, however that may be.

Content warning . 18+, MDNI age gap (reader is in her early 20s), spanking/usage of belts, punishments, dumbification, threesome, cum play, daddy kink . hard dom! Hannibal, soft dom! Will

Author’s Note: I didn’t know how to go about this (my brain isn’t braining rn) so I did smth similar :) this is literally pure filth like Im ovulating sorry

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“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Will’s voice is soft as he gently rubs your sock clad feet, watching the small wince that you make when he grazes over a bruised toe. You adjust yourself on your bed, bottom becoming numb from how long you’ve been sitting. You slide the sleeves of your dress back up on your shoulders— they have a hard time staying up, and it’s something that annoys you incredibly.

“He’s right,” Hannibal chimes from the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the desk beside him. It’s funny, how different these two men look in your pink, frilly room. “You’re working yourself too hard, little one.”

You frown, feeling the bed dip as Hannibal joins you and Will’s side.

“But ballet is important to me.”

“So is your health,” Will replies, and notices the way you seem to fidget in your dress. “Is your dress bothering you, baby?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck when Will lifts the hem of it over your head. Now clad in your bra and cotton panties, you feel open and exposed. But since it’s Hannibal and Will, you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“Come here,” Will says, and you crawl over to the place in between his spread thighs as he leans against your headboard. Hannibal follows in quiet suit, moving to Will’s side and holding your hand in his much larger one. Will’s hands play with your hair as you think back to something you’d been wanting to ask the two for a while.

“Can one of you use your belt on me?”

The soft scrape against your scalp stops at the question.

“What?”

“I mean,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. “I was watching a video.. ‘n.. the guy, he—“

“You’ve been watching naughty videos?” Hannibal inquires. You shake your head, wide doe eyes flashing.

“No!” You reply, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm,” the man shifts, gripping the soft skin of your jaw gently with his hand. Looking into your eyes, he can see the deceit in them. “You have, haven’t you? You know what we say about those videos, darling. They’re bad for you,” he looks back to the other man in the room. “Maybe we will have to spank her after all. Don’t you think, Will?”

“Play nice, Hannibal,” Will warns, though his mouth pulls into a small, amused smirk. “She’s sensitive. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“I do.” you whine, pawing at the sleeve of Hannibal’s suit. He chuckles, thumb rubbing gently over your wrist.

“Come here then, little one,” Hannibal coos. “Over my knee.”

Your eyes widen, pouty lips dropping open in awe.

“Now?” You squeak.

Will rolls his eyes, patting you softly on the arm.

“You heard him, Bunny. Go on.”

Getting on your hands and knees, panty clad ass now revealing the puff ball bunny tail on the back of the fabric, the two of them think you’re the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and watch as Will hands over his belt to Hannibal. It’s your favorite one, plain black but with a belt buckle that has your initials imprinted. Will wears it often— he’s not one to have flashy accessories, but since it was a gift from you he cherishes it dearly.

Since Will is on Hannibal’s left side, you decide to position yourself with your face directed towards him. This leads to your arms and face being smooshed against Will’s thighs, and he gently rubs your head with his hands. Hannibal hums when your ass lifts up for him, bunny tail flickering as you move your hips to get his attention.

“We should keep these on, don’t you think?” He says, fingers grazing over the bunny tail. “Too precious to pull them down, lover.”

You nod shyly, letting out a puff of air when Will’s fingers begin fumbling with the hooks on your bra. He advises you to slide the straps off your shoulders when he undoes them, and you awkwardly shuffle them off. Will’s hands move around your back to grope one of your breasts. The feeling of cold leather against your backside makes you whimper, and Hannibal positions his hand on the bottom of your thigh.

“Move your hands behind your back,” Hannibal demands. “You aren’t in any position of control. If you want to stop, you know the rules.”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, almost immediately. You move your arms back to link them together, Will’s hands gripping the both of yours tightly to make sure you don’t move.

“Good girl,” and then, “You’re going to count each one I give you. We will stop at ten since this is your first time.”

You nod, as much as you can with your face buried in Will’s lap. You can feel the hardness in his pants, right up against your cheek, and your mouth waters.

There’s a comforting rub against your left cheek before Hannibal brings the belt down. It isn’t too bad, a slight sting that makes you jump.

“One.” You say, quietly. Your ass lifts up for more.

“Good,” Hannibal praises, soothing the skin once more. “Are you going to watch those videos again?”

You stay silent, contemplating but also being quiet on purpose. You can’t deny that Hannibal getting angry with you makes your panties drenched.

At this, Hannibal slams the belt down onto you once again. A warning. You cry out this time, feeling a burning sensation along your skin.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he says sternly. “And don’t make me have to break my belt on you, little one.”

“What does that mean?” you whine, ditzy little head genuinely confused by such a simple term. You inhale the scent of Will’s pants, and from above you, the brunette’s hands gently soothe your back.

“Told you, Hanni,” he singsongs. “Doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“Ignoring your interruption,” Hannibal says, annoyed (but not really). He directs his attention back to you. “Tell me, little one. Yes or no?”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks flaring as your arousal increases.

“Yes.”

Hannibal scoffs.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

The belt comes down on you again. You jump, tears beginning to pool along your waterline.

“What was that?” Hannibal demands harshly. “Was that a yes that I heard?”

“No!” You say. “No, daddy, I’ll never ever watch those videos again! I promise, promise…”

You thrash against the pain, and Hannibal’s palms rub the sore skin.

“Alright,” he replies. “but I’m adding five more. Naughty girls who don’t listen get punished.”

“Hannibal,” Will warns. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s a brat, is what she is, Will. Stop defending her,” Hannibal’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling your teary eyed face up and craning your neck. “Now count. Starting from three.”

The belt comes down again, and your hands ache, along with your bottom.

“T-Three.” You say. The belt comes down on you again, and again. You count to five.

“You really need to be harder on her,” Hannibal says to Will, who’s subtly grinding against your face as he watches you writhe below him. “She needs to learn that her actions have consequences.”

“I know,” Will sighs, then gently taps the tip of your nose, and smiles softly. “But look at how precious she is.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, bringing out the sixth then seventh hit. You can already feel the blooming of bruises by the time you hit number ten, and your aching pussy grinds down into Hannibal’s thigh. He seems to allow this, and by the twelfth hit, he’s teasing you about it.

“Is this arousing you, lover?” He asks, amused. “You only have three more to go. You better enjoy it.”

“Mm, she is,” Will cuts in, reaching down between your legs to feel your soaked panties. “Little pussy is so wet,” and then, “You ruined your panties, pup.”

Mewling, you allow another smack to come down onto your ass.

“T-Thirteen,” you whimper out. “Could.. could you buy me some new panties, Will?”

Another smack. Another number. Will tilts his head, staring at your panty clad ass.

“Mm,” he replies. “I don’t know, Hannibal. What do you think?” His fingers grasp the puff ball tail and tug it up. This makes your panties ride up in between your folds, and you gasp, humiliated. “I think baby blue would really suit her.”

“That, or lilac,” the eldest man replies. “We’ll get you a new set, little one. But only because it benefits us as much as it benefits you.”

You smile, giddy with excitement to take another shopping trip. Hannibal rubs your ass again, and Will kisses you on the head.

“One more for us, alright?”

You nod, perky ass throbbing with heat. Hannibal slams the belt down, and this time you let out a sob. It was the harshest hit, one sure to leave a welt or two. Hannibal coos when he sees your look of pain, throwing the belt to the side and gently massaging you.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Come here, darling.”

You maneuver your body to slide in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your smaller form, and he kisses your hair, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. You let out a few more stray tears while he and Will both soothe the ache on your bottom.

“You know we only do this because we have to.” Hannibal murmurs.

“I know, daddy.”

“Actions have consequences, and you asked for this sort of punishment. So we decided to give it to you,” he explains, and pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips.

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good,” he replies. “And since you’ve taken your punishment so well, I’m giving you the opportunity to ask for something. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lick your lips, contemplating your options with excitement.

“Hmm,” you say, and then finally come to your decision. You look over to your second boyfriend, who seems to be watching you with an almost love struck gaze. “I want Will… want his mouth. Please?”

Will licks his lips at the statement. Oral is one of his favorite things to give.

“Very well,” Hannibal says, then gestures for Will. “She can lay in between my legs. You lay between hers.”

Will nods, and you happily turn around and begin sliding off your panties. Spreading your legs, you look up at Will with doe eyes as he approaches you. His lips touch yours, sliding easily against the expanse of your mouth. When he pulls away, the scent of your arousal overtakes his senses. He groans, moving down in between your legs.

Hannibal’s big arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you still. Will flawlessly licks a stripe up your slit, making you whimper and hold onto Hannibal for dear life as he begins to eat you like a man starved. His mouth works wonders against your tiny hole and aching clit as he groans into your cunt, drinking your sweet juices like it’s nectar of the Gods.

“How does she taste?” Hannibal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He loves to go down on you just as much as the other man.

Will pulls away, chin dripping and hair disheveled.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he gasps out, nosing at your folds. His thumbs spread them apart, exposing your hole that’s coated in creamy slick. “Cutest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You clench, letting him see the opening and closing of your hole. You want him to stick his tongue back inside.

You don’t have to wait long for that, because a mere second later Hannibal’s big hand splays across the back of Will’s head and pushes him back down. Will lets out a moan at this, allowing Hannibal to guide his head up and down and every which way that brings you closer and closer to your peak. Hannibal smirks, watching the way you writhe under his tongue and watch Will with hungry, lidded eyes.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He says, and you can feel his hardness pressing against your back.

Drool seeps down your chin as you nod.

“Mhm..” you whine out. Your hands go to the boy’s hair, and he whimpers when you tug on the strands.

“He likes when you do that,” Hannibal observes, his tone low. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Do it again.”

You comply, watching the way Will’s hips grind down into the mattress when it happens and the way Hannibal lets out a heavy breath. Will’s mouth works harder, bringing your clit in between his lips and lightly sucking. You gasp out his name, hips moving against him in tandem.

“Will, Daddy.. ‘m so close..”

“Close, yes?” Hannibal taunts, and his grip around your throat tightens. His biceps practically squeeze your neck as you near closer and closer to your high, your throat gasping for breath. When your orgasm overtakes you, Hannibal loosens his grip, but not quite. You let out a raw, pleasure filled moan when you cum, Will working you through until the point of overstimulation, your legs shaking and your sock clad feet pushing on his shoulders. He chuckles when he pulls away, a pleased grin forming as he wipes his slick coated mouth on the back of his wrist. And boy, is it a sight. He licks up the remaining remnants of your arousal with his tongue, hands splaying on either side of you and Hannibal’s legs so he can move up and kiss you filthily on the mouth. Hannibal is next, a tender peck that makes the cock against your lower back twitch. It has him licking his lips when Will pulls away, his lashes fluttering as he sighs in content. He presses a kiss to your mouth, too, and relaxes even further.

It’s only a mere moment of rest before you can feel that familiar throb again, and the sight of your two boys bulging through their pants makes you drool. You spread your legs, overstimulated pussy on full display.

Will, who had been laying at the foot of the bed in front of the both of you, watches with hunger. You lean away from Hannibal, instead turning yourself on your knees and presenting yourself to Will, who’s already positioning himself behind you eagerly. Hannibal, the most patient out of all three of you, no doubt, finally takes his aching cock out of his pants and wraps a hand around himself at the scene. You hear the rustling of Will’s fly being undone, then his length is pressed against your ass and wet, oh so wet, even when he slides it in between your folds and sheathes himself inside your little hole with one swift movement. Your mouth drops open at the sensation of being filled, your hands finding purchase on Hannibal’s thick thighs in front of you. His cock is hitting his stomach, red and leaking drops of precum down the tip, and you watch as Hannibal rubs it up and down with his hand. You look up at him pleadingly as Will begins to pound you into the mattress.

“You want daddy’s cock in your mouth, is that it?” Hannibal teases, and you nod. He sighs, directing the tip of his cock towards you. “Open wide, sweet girl.”

You happily obey, tongue lolling out to lick at his tip, his stringy precum sticking to your bottom lip and the head of his cock, tasting absolutely divine. Will’s hands roam over your ass as his cock bullies your gummy walls.

“Mm, Hanni got you good, didn’t he, baby?” He says, examining the marks. “Gonna have to put some lotion on that later.”

The use of the nickname in Will’s mouth is a mockery of your own. You nod, however, pouting.

“Mhm. But Daddy knows what’s best for me.”

“That’s right,” Hannibal grunts out, when you take him fully down your throat. “Dumb little girls like you can’t think for themselves. That’s why you need Will and I to take care of you,” and then, “God, darling, your mouth is just perfect.”

You hum, choking on him. Will’s fingers bruise your hips now, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh thrust. Your pussy quakes around him, clamping down on his length. His breath is warm against your ear as he pushes in and out of you.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby..” as he watches your ass bounce back against him.

“Look at that tight little pussy, practically choking my dick.” as he spreads your cheeks apart, watching the way you take him.

“Hannibal’s cock tastes good, doesn’t it?” As you come up for air and gasp, drool soaking your neck and chin.

You can feel when he gets close by the way his hips stutter, and with a lewd whine hes babbling endlessly.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Gonna cum in this slut pussy��� god, squeeze me just like that.”

“Please,” you whimper endlessly, and you can hear Hannibal let out a breathy chuckle.

“She wants it. She wants you to cum in her cunt,” his voice drops an octave as he watches the boy. “Come on. I need something to lubricate her more once I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Oh—“

Will’s eyes roll back, his body tensing up as he finally releases inside her. She clenches down on him, milking him for all he’s worth as he shoots rope after rope deep inside her gaping pussy. Hannibal’s fingers nestle into the boy’s hair as he rides out his orgasm, gently twirling the soft locks in between his fingers. You watch with your mouth turned into an o, burying yourself deeper against Hannibal’s chest in retaliation.

“There you go,” Hannibal coos when Will sighs against your chest, spent. “Good boy.”

“Tease,” Will mumbles back to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. His eyes look up at you and he smiles. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, nodding your head.

“More than okay.”

He looks down at the mess between your thighs as he pulls out, grunting. A trail of his spend pools out of you and onto the sheets.

His fingers begin to move up to your drenched clit— you need release to, after all, and Will is never a selfish lover—but before he can, Hannibal’s hand grabs his wrist.

“No,” he utters. “Let me, once I’m inside her.”

“Like I said,” Will grumbles, moving out from between your legs to settle back against the headboard. “Tease.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, guiding you to turn around and face him. You bite your lower lip at the feeling of Will’s cum trailing down your thighs. Hannibal undoes his belt, pulling down his zipper so his pants are open and his briefs are exposed.

“Take me out, darling.”

She reaches into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his length out and giving it a few languid strokes. Will watches, his spent cock twitching against his stomach. He ignores it, instead deciding to move to your side and press a kiss to your heated cheek. His hand provides a comforting pressure to the back of your head as he settles it in your hair. Hannibal tilts his head, grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.

“Put my cock inside you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Be a good girl.”

Your lashes flutter at the vulgar term spilling from the usually polite man’s lips. Will’s hands scrape against your scalp and your brain is fuzzy with how good it all feels. Grabbing Hannibal’s length in your hand, you position your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock.

Sinking down makes your brows furrow. Hannibal isn’t as big as Will, but that isn’t saying much. The man still has a considerable size, and his girth stretches your gummy walls exceptionally. You whimper, settling down to the very base of his cock. Hannibal’s head tilts back and hits the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut to get used to the sensation of you wrapped around him. His big hands splay across your hips and Will nuzzles your throat affectionately.

“Daddy.” you whine, your little pussy beginning to rock onto Hannibal.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please?”

He smiles, pulling you further against him so he can brace his feet underneath you. His cock gives a few shallow thrusts, getting used to your heat, before moving into more dangerous territory. It isn’t long before he’s jackhammering into you, your head tilted back by Will’s big hands. He demands you open your mouth, and you do. A glob of spit lands on your tongue, which you swallow greedily. Hannibal groans as he watches the scene.

“Filthy little things,” he mutters, pulling you into a kiss. You both share Will’s saliva on your intertwining tongues.

Your thighs shake as Hannibal’s cock and balls leak with Will’s cum. The sound is utterly sinful— the gushing sounds of his cock pummeling your filled pussy, his balls slapping against your ass, the sobs tearing through your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and you’re sobbing.

Hannibal’s fingers reach down to your clit, deftly rubbing against the swollen nub exactly the way you like. It isn’t long before you reach your peak, your pussy clenching down as a string of filthy words makes its way out of your throat, burying your face in Hannibal’s white button down and staining it with salty tears. Will is an absolute sweetheart, guiding your hips with his hands to help you, cooing little sweet sayings in your ear. He cakes your throat in pretty red marks.

Hannibal draws closer to his orgasm, small grunts and heavy breaths spilling out of his mouth. It isn’t long before he empties inside you, filling you up with a second load of sticky, white cum. He pulls your limp body off of his length, your pussy making a gushing sound as both of your boyfriend’s dribble out of you. The two men sigh when they see it, their cocks both twitching at the sight.

But all three of you have had enough for the day— or at least for the next few hours. Hannibal disappears out of the room for a moment to bring back a glass of water and lotion. He holds the water to your lips and sweetly coos, “you’ve been such an obedient girl. Drink, okay?”

You do, of course. You drink the whole damn glass.

After going into the bathroom to pee and wipe your cum covered thighs, Hannibal lotions your sore bottom with gentle hands. After this you finally crawl back into bed, moving onto your stomach and hugging your pillow tightly. Will chuckles.

“You don’t want a bubble bath?” He asks, because that’s usually what you request. But you just shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Not asleep, but almost. Will nods his head. “Later then, sweet girl.”

The boy crawls to your side, wrapping his big arm around you and pulling you to his side. Hannibal soon joins, his tie loosened and jacket off, pants unbuttoned. It’s rare to see him in such a messy state, relaxed. Only you and Will can help him unwind like this.

He lays on his back, and you lay your head on his chest, inhaling his strong, expensive cologne. Beside you, you can smell the aftershave that Will wears— Hannibal teases him about it, but you’re quite fond of it. It smells like home.

They smell like home.

You smile sleepily, watching with barely open eyes as Hannibal and Will’s hands connect over you. As you fall into a peaceful sleep, the two men on either side of you stay wide awake.

After a moment, Will chuckles.

“So I’m assuming we’ll be using my belt more often?”

“Guaranteed,” hannibal confirms, watching you drool onto his shirt in your sleep. He never mentions it to you because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed. “Perhaps we can use it on you next time, Will”

The younger man scoffs, his cheeks flaring as he buries his face into your hair.

“Shut up, Hanni.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[diorcities]

snooze

jisung x you genre smut content friends with benefits, mention of mingi (hope you get why), cunnilingus, riding, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, wc 4k ── you always leave him and he plans to make you stay.

ever since you kissed him, he can’t get you out of his mind.

it had been useless, had it?

it didn't take long for jisung to figure it out. he knows perfectly well that he gets attached quickly, his friends always tease him about it.

much there was say jisung was very chill. he was fine with evasive looks just like fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. the short greetings at gatherings as well as soft sounds muffled against his lips.

jisung couldn't make his head to begin to describe you, and the closest he's come is a little charm at night.

he's been lost because of it. only you can make him fall in love, only if you say yes.

“oh, my god. you can't be serious.” nayeon, dressed like a cheetah, shouts making her way through the tide of people to you, her gaze lost behind you.

and it is both your gift and your curse to know what has her upset without having to look. a boy with fangs and light brown hair with blonde highlights dancing and making out a girl prettier than the previous one and uglier than the next he'll met. “it can't be that he got over you so quickly,” she says while glaring. and despite feeling upset just like your best friend, you can't help but feel this immense lack of something. because while mingi kisses her, he doesn't stop looking at you.

it's been a while since you two broke up. the normal thing would be to keep going, yet you're still in the same place, just without the same feelings except regret. “it's alright,” you hear yourself say, only it's not.

if it makes him feel good to kiss girls in front of you, then it's fine. either way, you're the worst traitor.

it was a bad idea to have come, but you're used to always making a mistake. big ones are just as much a part of you as are your bad decisions. “i'll go smoke a little. listen, if you see ghostface, tell him he owes me money.”

she winks at you, “sure thing, angel.”

you move out of his sight and it feels ridiculous to see himself following your trail with his eyes until you move outside. when he feels that you've ignored him for too long, he's the first to offer truce.

“you look like a dream.” he's been drinking for a while, so he knows he'd never, ever dare to talk to you. but he knows that a couple of beers and the bad influence of his friends must not mix up.

“why?” he wasn't sure if he preferred your obnoxious demeanor or your condescending eyes meeting him. “have you dreamed of me?”

he looks stupid, and you smile wide when a blush tint his cheeks. because yes, he has. despite all the grace and angelic energy that your eyes transmit, jisung is embarrassed that every time he thinks of you the first thing that appears in his dirty mind is those wet eyes trying to stay open while looking at him from under his body. legs wrapped loose around his waist and parted lips inciting him to taste them.

he swallows hard and without meaning to, his eyes feel like two wells. his mouth is dry or maybe he's craved your lips a bit too much. a tingling runs through his fingers and his fingertips buzz. you have no idea how much he wants you, or maybe you do, because you smile wider.

all your grace takes form in dreamy eyes before you kiss him. and kiss him. and kiss him. his emotions get tangled followed by your responsive heart. he can't beat it, the feelings.

it's killing him, and it would hurt him more to admit that he's used all his manipulative tactics; lies and deceit, pretty words, empty promises. but then he looks at you with his pretty pleading love-me eyes and you can't handle it anymore. he kisses the inside of your wrist as he looks at you from below and you almost hesitate.

because that's his curse, or perhaps it is yours. you always leave. you're an angel faced like yet you're full of haunting. with your condescending gaze, virtuous lips stretched in a smile; shiny eyes filled contempt, as if you regretted something that you both tried so hard to ignore so as not to feel guilty. when the truth is, jisung could hardly think of anything other than you.

and he plans to make you stay.

his hand intertwines with yours, and there it is again. a monstrous hesitation. every time this drags on, the more guilty you feel; for thinking of him when you were together.

jisung's kisses drift you to the surface. “is it because of him?” he pronounces, and you've been an idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice at some point. “mingi?” he asks, drawing your hand to his chest, and the gesture causes the devious swarm to disperse as you swallow.

you shake your head, and unexpectedly you chuckle lightly, “no.”

there's no one bound to you. you're not tethered to him anymore, yet it felt like you were betraying him. it seemed like you've made a big mistake a long time ago and now this monstrous thought of whether he will ever forgive you does not cease to haunt you.

you've never been good at keeping your emotions at bay, so guilt eclipses other feelings, it overshadows your heart, beating to the rhythm of his pulse under your palm, slowly moving towards his jawline.

these rendezvous were not going to end well, and even so... you always came back. to him. he smells fresh and manly. he smells familiar.

he likes to eat you out first. it is almost inevitable to do so, as if something were missing. as if he were obsessed. and yet he takes his tortuous time and start kissing your stomach, the soft taut skin of your hip bone, where his hands tuck underneath to place them over his shoulders. “think only of me.”

your full legs bury his head and your femininity is received by caresses. tongue roaming along your core, plump lips sucking you. the right angle makes you sigh, “yes.” your mouth opens in awe and your eyes flutter shut feeling that tingling forming in your guts. just where his hands hold you so you don't move. “yes...” he glances at you the moment he use his tongue to put pressure on the sweet bulge to see you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head back.

he hums, and your whole body shivers feeling the cocky smile on his lips around you, full of spit and arousal covering his face for constantly hitting his nose in your sweet spot. you dissolve into nothing, your blood becomes washy, and you arch violently as he ventures his tongue down your folds into your needy entrance. “a-ahg.”

something hot runs down your belly and explodes into pleasant waves when it tightens your grip and pulls you closer, diving deep to taste your silkiness, hissing when feels too good. “mmm... god.” your teeth grind and your eyes squeeze at the sound his mouth makes every time he rocks his tongue along your sensitive clit, roaming his lips and sucking you rhythmically.

“fuck, you taste divine.” his hot breath brushes against your femininity and the purr of his deep tone causes you to buzz synchronously, the core of your belly sinking and legs trembling at his voice. “so sweet, my girl.”

he shakes his head as he smiles against you, and you're losing your mind at the view of his pretty face enraptured in the aroma of your intimacy. eyes closed while he sucks you good and holds your legs apart from bellow your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

you twitch in delight and his eyes darken having you on full display, grabbing his hair and guiding his motion where you most need him. “oh, yes. there... there.” your back arches unconsciously as your shaking voice tells him where to lick, where to nibble, where to caress. “feels good, ji.”

you're so wet you can hear it every time he rubs your clit dexterously with tongue and teeth, your mind filling with a hazy sensation you can't help but tremble hard, “s-good,” you cry feeling sensitivity numb your hurting nipples once he cups them on his big hands. too much to keep quiet. too much to hold it all in. your shaky moans fill the room when a sharp sensation sink your belly and whip your breath away.

jisung hums thoughtfully in glee when you start pulsing around nothing. unshed tears fills your eyes as you succumb to pain from the pleasure that runs through you from head to toe, buzzing in your bloodstream and making you whine for a bit of friction.

you squirm and arch when he pulls away. and you gasp despite watching him take off his belt from his jeans while his eyes don't leave your pussy, throbbing for him.

he's left you so aroused it hurts, wet and willing, your eyes don't leave him while his are fixed on your ruined pussy, missing his mouth full of your silky excitement. jisung licks his lips in trance, undoing zipper to let out his painful, throbbing erection under his underwear. “want to take it?”

your mouth begins to tingle wildly and an impulse forces you to moan a yes. “all?” your eyes darken and it's almost immediately that your hands draw him to you when he leans just a little, as if he wants to play now to see who needs whom, as if not knowing perfectly well that it has always been you.

from the first time you met.

and deep inside him, having you under him guiding him inside of you, he thought it would give him some satisfaction, but the guilt spreads. of course he was terrified of how he felt about you, maybe you were too? were you terrified of what you might feel for him? what did you already feel?

“oh, fuck.” no matter how many times he buries himself in you, it always has the same effect; it always makes him want more. “you feel so good, fuck,” he breathes and takes a moment to feel you, all around him, squeezing him right.

your body feels light when he thrusts you twice, his breath hitting your cheek when he groans, “i can make you forget about him.” and makes your legs fail.

he feels so nicely thick. the mere friction of his cock inside makes a tremor run down your legs and an explosion of sensations in your lower belly, growing when he starts to penetrate you.

he holds over your stomach, he doesn't take it out completely before he puts it back in, the rhythm making you both sobble with pleasure. it's almost tortuous the way it's not enough, to having him fully, fingers massaging your swollen femininity as he hammers your pelvis with yours, sounding deliciously good.

you fall long after you need each other, ardently. despite being intertwined, despite being skin to skin, he's so far away from you, yet so close you can reach his chest, his sturdy forearm. you can reach his lips.

everything condenses, and you seem to be holding your breath. your stomach tenses and something furious flutters in your belly. rises hot through your bloodstream and you find it desperately luring closer to you, moaning “i'm close.”

the motion of his pounding change and become more violent and faster. “oh, god,” you whimper, feeling yourself collapsing. hands pushing on his stomach before he holds both wrists with one of his.

“be a nice girl for me.”

“ji, please.”

your head lolls back as you feel his cock pounding into you roughly. sharp thrusts eliciting sounds out of you. his big hands cupping your breasts as they bounce rhythmically every time he rocks his dick deep, not being able to fully put it out before coming back in. “fuck, you sound so good, angel. fuck.” he's blushed, mouth is part open and tongue slightly sticking out, in a deep state of ecstasy feeling you around him. “f-fuck.” he takes your leg and passes it over his shoulder, and you see the torturous grimace he makes when a shudder strike you so hard that you cry.

your hand covers your mouth when everything comes down. suddenly everything is overwhelming, rousing. your eyes see through your eyelashes to jisung staring at you, so deep in the intoxicating sensation of being full of you, and you being full of him too, you feel it.

you almost see the resemblance. in the brown hair, in the shape of their mouth kissing you. the way they tend to hold you the same way, frowning at you with saddened eyes from being close, drunk in you, but somehow greeny; as if he still possesses innocence to give you if you ask for it.

the feeling they're both in love with you.

yet so different. from the way they both end and begin, despite everything. if you close your eyes, you barely notice the similarity. if you close your eyes, you let yourself go and just feel.

bodies intertwined. mixed sighs. needy kisses. faster and faster, accelerating the pace of his thrusts, sinking hos fingers deeper into your skin until leaving his fingerprints tattooed, sinking into his neck when you feel the expected tingling of being close to the edge, undoing your inside and freeing a thousand wild sensations.

his cock is sweetly pressed into the swelling of your core when he starts to rub your clit with his eyes glued in your features contracting in a shattering pleasure. feeling all your body tensing and your teeth grinding into each other before the big o that explode your senses into a thousand pieces. dissolving around him in spasms that release waves and waves of liquid pleasure that wet his crotch and make him lose his mind.

you're still throbbing when he moans in your mouth as he kisses you, lips colliding with tiredness as you feel him move in and out, pacing the rhythm. your breath trembles from being so sensitive, yet you willingly spread your legs for him to bury deeper. “don't stop.”

your eyes water when he starts sucking your tit while roaming your sides. skin bristling as your fingers draw a line from his arm to the nape of his neck, combing his hair as he begins to penetrate you again. his hoarse voice making you shudder when you hear him moaning against your chest, fogging your skin.

“making me feel so good, angel.” your mouth parts open as he passes an arm under you and arches you toward him, tucking one of your breasts between his lips, using the new grip to make you go down full to his cock, sinking his teeth in the sweet skin of your tits.

he fucks you raw and your blood runs hot. moving you with ease to rest on your side as he align his cock and slide into your pillowy walls drenched in arousal, making you bite the pillow when he hits a different angle.

your intimacy burns sweetly, feeling the enticing sensation of his thickness filling you up every time he pounds into you with rough thrusts. his pelvis collide forcefully against the full skin of your thigh over his leg that your eyes cloud with tears of raw pleasure, buzzing inside.

the constant pounding of his length coated in your slick producing a squelching sound doesn't leave your mind as you come closer and closer to the edge. drowning out a hoarse groan as his warm hand lands on your belly and climbs up your chest to squeeze your breast before interlocking your fingers with his; then you remember the reason, and it makes you go numb from head to toe.

he feels the burning need to hold your hand when he's close.

your skin looks scarlet from the spanking caused by the hand that now holds you tightly while he accelerates the thrusts, getting audibly desperate. his breathing accompanies the sounds that slip from his open mouth as he tries to keep up, deep moans and elongated words leave his lips before he bites it once he sees you guiding his fingers down your clit as you touch yourself. your eyes fluttering and emitting a moan so exquisite that jisung explodes in spasms.

a sharp sensation expands through your body when he lets out the best sound you've ever heard, starting throbbing along with his cock just before he pulls out late and spills his seed on your entrance. you bite your lip feeling the warm cum between your fingers as you massage your sore core.

it's late at midnight when you pass your leg over his chest and gaze at him with crimson cheeks as he stare at the mess. and although his features seem tender to you, his eyes are darkened with pure perversity when he leans over you and make you go on top now.

“wanna stay a little longer?” he smiles lazily as he reaches for a condom, knowing he can't be trusted now. however, it's perhaps the evil and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that tell you that he already had it in mind.

do you seem like a dream now? something as tangible as it is real. or has it all been in his head, like all the times before?

his eyes half-closed with glee lethargy follow the path your lips do when going dangerously down to stimulate his cock with your mouth, and you finally fall into realization. “if you beg...”

between the two brothers, you should've dated jisung instead.

[themilfking]

wait I know why we hate AIPAC but what did ADL do? I thought the anti defamation League was good

The ADL is an Israeli/Zionist advocacy group at its core. It's main priority as an organization is to protect Israel and its mission for a Jewish Ethno-State. This is especially true under Johnathan Greenblatt's leadership who has said "antizionism is antisemitism" It's easy to think that the "Anti Defamation League" has no underlying agenda given its history as a "civil rights organization" but it has constantly used that as a screen for extremely right wing positions on Israel. Some of their greatest hits include: Equating Students for Justice in Palestine, JVP, and CAIR to "white supremacists" simply because they strongly oppose an ethnic cleansing of Palestinians. A leaked ADL memo revealing how ADL plans to "soften" the news to Americans that Israel plans to annex the West Bank. (Source). In this leak Greenblatt recognizes that the annexation is a violation of basic human rights. To me this is a clear indication that they are less concerned with civil rights and more concerned with shaping the public image of Israel, especially in the US. Really urge you all to read this leak! Supported South African Apartheid (surprise surprise) and participated in propaganda against Nelson Mandela and the ANC. They even employed a spy named Roy Bullock to infiltrate the anti-apartheid campaign in the US. They later settled a law suit for this. (Source) That's not even close to the only time they've utilized spies. THIS recent leak of Greenblatt talks about ADL having spies in Jewish Voice for Peace and other organizations. It also talks about how they are having a hard time with the global youth no longer buying into their propaganda. Another source you should give your full attention to. PLEASE listen to that whole thing. It's truly terrifying. You're gonna hear them talk a lot about why Tiktok is a danger to their mission.

HERE is an article about how the ADL has a long history of smearing black activists, working with Police/ICE, and its attempts to demonize the BDS movement. I could go on and on about how terrible and deceitful the ADL is. The sources above are a good start to understanding why we shouldn't trust the ADL but please look into all the other things they've done like working with the FBI to spy on Arab Americans, infiltrating student organizations they find to be a threat to "Israel's image", surveillance, the people who fund/donate to them etc.

The best way to fight orgs like this is to share/spread this info as much as you can. It's clearly working because they're losing global support especially with the youth.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 || Stanley Gleeful ||

A/n: no one asked for this,but had to write something for a reverse! Falls Stan

Stanley Gleeful was a greedy man, the people that really knew him might say he is a psychopath, mean and deceitful but you didn't see him as any of those things.

He didn't think that his charms would work that well on you. The man was honestly just trying to rob you of your money with you being tourist, it should have been easy.

You fell for his honeyed words easily enough so why did enjoy being around you so much. You were just some random broad, Stan should hate the way you smiled at him, how you giggled when he preformed one of his little tricks.

He really shouldn't take satisfaction in killing that piece of shit you were with though he had to admit how lax you were about it until you let slip how abusive the man was.

Maybe he loved you, maybe it was an obsession but Stan was going to show that you were his and his alone to all these bastards, to anyone that would dare to step in his office.

"Be a good girl for me." Stan muttered against your neck as his hand glided up your thigh pushing up your skirt. God he would love nothing more than to rip your clothes off.

A whimper escaped your lips feeling his fingers brush your warmth through your panties, teasing you.

"Stan."

Lips against your neck, his other hand held you firmly in place. "You're gonna look so good draped in nothin but my amulet doll face....I'm gonna fuck ya so hard you're gonna forget my name."

Breath hitching, your eyes slipped closed as you let your nails dig into his desk as he pushed your panties aside slowly teased your slit.

"Now, now darlin. Don't old back for little old me. I want those fuckers to hear what I am doing to you."

[strawberriesoup]

umbrella٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A sudden storm causes your evening plans with Jisung to be canceled.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff/angst, jisung x female reader, established relationship, comfort

warnings: cursing, crying, reader has a hard time vocalizing her feelings, kisses, super fluffy, jisung is best boyfriend, hugs

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Normally, the slight pitter patter of rain tapping at your window wouldn’t bother you so much. The droplets racing down the glass were usually your cue to brew up some tea and clear your mind whilst watching the headlights of cars whoosh by on the street far below.

Right now your mind is anything but clear. You pull your hand away from the window, leaving a print of condensation behind as the chill in the air picks up, warning of the upcoming storm.

If nothing else, the weather instills in you a newfound hate for the weatherman and his deceitful games.

Why did everything have to go wrong? First your dinner plans with Jisung were canceled because of “renovations” and now this? The forecast predicts thunderstorms the rest of the day and through the night as well. The rain and your mood are getting worse by the minute.

You miss him. You just want to see him. Is that really too much to ask? But the universe— like always—has different plans.

It was about two months now since you had met Jisung. You had been thirsting over his best friend, Minho, and Jisung had stepped in as your wingman. Needless to say, you weren’t so interested in Minho anymore after getting to know Jisung.

Technically, you met him at a party — said party you had only attended to stalk Minho— so your first impressions of Jisung were understandably questionable. Come to find out later that his friend group forced him there and he’s actually just a cheesecake-loving homebody who’s afraid of pigeons (“Those damn birds know too much”) and likes the show Nana a little more than he probably should.

He’s cute as hell though.

Your couch squeaks as you throw yourself down on it. That stupid squeaking. It incites more violence in you than it probably should, and you take that as a sign to take a deep breath and try to think positively.

Unfortunately you just end up thinking of Jisung and how, if he were here, he would be able to cheer you up with one of his stupid jokes and that goddamn pretty smile. Ugh.

Should you call him? Would asking him to come over be too much? It was raining exponentially hard and he probably wouldn’t want to bother. There’s always another day. But still. Your mind is hyper-fixated on the thought of him, his presence, his laughter, the way his eyes seem to sparkle when he rants about his latest obsession…

Fuck this. You’ll just go over to his place.

By now, the downpour is in full swing and practically roaring against the side of the building, the sound blocking out even the rush of traffic building on the road below. You feel a chill run through your limbs at the thought of trekking through that mess with only your umbrella as a shield.

Through the clamor of the rain outside, you swear you hear a soft knocking. Are you imagining things? You must be. It was probably just thunder.

After a beat, you hear the knocking again. Louder this time.

Yeah, that was definitely your door. You jump up from the couch, heart leaping hopefully into your throat as you rush to unlock the door. It can’t be.

It was.

There stands Jisung, sporting a soaked umbrella, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and a grin.

You must stare at him with an open mouth for longer than you thought because his brows furrow and he bursts out into a laugh.

“No ‘Hi Jisung’? No ‘Oh, how I missed you, I’m so glad you’re here Jisung’?”

He wraps his arms around you, his soaked umbrella thumping against your back. You return the hug tightly, coming back to your senses. He’s here! Wait, he’s actually here? The dots don’t seem to connect in your mind, but the arms around you, slowly rocking you back and forth in a warm embrace finally convince your stubborn mind that this is real.

“You came? But—“

“Yeah, duh! The rain’s pretty crazy isn’t it? Still sucks we couldn’t go to dinner, but look I brought snacks!”

He pulls away from you to shake the plastic convenience store bag in front of your face and sets it on the counter, the contents spilling out over the surface. All your favorite snacks. You feel tears prick at your eyes.

No. You are not going to cry right now. You clench your fists by your sides, trying to will the tears back into your skull. Unaware of your internal conflict, Jisung hums absentmindedly to himself while he shrugs off his drenched jacket and stows away his umbrella on the rack by the door.

“So what are we thinking?” Jisung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “Youtube? Card game?” He turns his attention towards you. The second he sees you, his eyes widen in confusion. Are you okay? What happened?

Before he has a chance to ask anything, the dam cracks and you break down into tears.

He’s right there by your side, following you down to the floor and kneeling in front of you. He takes your hand between both of his own.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Can you tell me?” He speaks in such a soft tone, but the worry in his voice leaks through. It just makes you sob harder. You bury your face in your knees. Stop crying. Stop it right now, this is ridiculous.

He squeezes your hand before flattening your clenched fist and kissing your palm. He lingers there for a moment, a warm and steady presence, while you collect yourself.

Eventually, you bring yourself to meet his eyes. His eyes flitter between your own, laced with obvious concern. Which makes sense because who in their right mind just breaks down sobbing with zero explanation as soon as their boyfriend walks in the door.

“I.. It’s just— I can’t believe you actually came here. To.. to see me. It’s— I don’t know, it’s really not a big deal I’m so sorry—” You stammer pathetically between gasps, wiping your tears on your shirt sleeve. Damn it. Why can’t you just pull your self together?

“Shhh. It’s okay, just take your time. I’m listening.” He soothes, pressing his mouth against your knuckles. You can feel his teeth through the soft skin of his lip as his breath ghosts across your skin.

“I just missed you.” You finish plainly.

It’s true, you did miss him. But you can’t quite bring yourself to say the whole truth. You want to tell him how much him showing up means to you. You want to thank him for actually caring about you and wanting to be around you, even if that means he has to go out of his way to achieve that. Nobody had ever treated you this way before. They wanted you when you were convenient. When you were easy.

Jisung just isn’t like that. How could you think otherwise?

Jisung huffs out a fond laugh at your answer and breaks into a half smile. By the knowing look in his eye, you can tell he understands you without words.

“Yeah, well, I missed you too. Come here.” He folds you into his chest, one hand behind your head and the other tracing circles across your back. You could stay here like this with him forever. Except that you might be getting snot on his shirt right now.

“Hold on, I really need a tissue,”you admit, pulling away from him and giggling. You excuse yourself to the bathroom while Jisung gasps and dramatically “ewwwuhh”s after you.

You avoid making eye contact with your reflection in the mirror as you blow your nose. Eventually, you glance up to take in your appearance. God. You look a mess. Your puffy red eyes squinting back at you agree. You rinse your face with some cold water just for good measure.

After you had taken care of business, you emerge from the bathroom to find Jisung sprawled out on your couch, limbs dangling about haphazardly. When he spots you, he pouts and makes grabby hands.

Mock rolling your eyes, you go over and lay on top of him, your couch complaining at the added weight. Straddling your legs, you place both of your arms around his head, cradling it. The feeling of his body underneath yours, the steadiness of his heartbeat, the curve of his waist, It just feels right. Like it should always be this way.

“You want to kiss me sooo bad, huh?” Jisung teases. He cocks an eyebrow at you and makes a kissy face. You cant help but laugh while you grab his face between your palms.

“And so what if I do? Huh?” The grin is evident in your voice as you dip down to give him a peck on the lips. It proves to be a little difficult to give a proper kiss to someone who is giggling through their nose and fighting back a smile. You kiss him once, twice, three times.

“You know,” you comment, “this would be easier if you just stayed still—“ Jisung abruptly surges upwards into a sitting position, nearly bonking his head against yours in the process. You find yourself straddling his lap while his hands shift to support your thighs.

Eyes brimming with admiration, he simply stares at you for a moment. Taking in everything that makes you, you. You’re perfect. And he wants nothing more than for you to just be able to see what he sees.

He leans in, slowly closing the gap between you two. You feel your heart skip as you lean to meet him, your eyes fluttering shut.

A bright flash blinds you and before you could even draw in a gasp, a deafening crack of thunder consumes your senses.

You can feel Jisung jump beneath you, his hands tightening around your thighs. Both of you pull away from each other in shock. He stares at you with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, looking so genuinely frazzled that you break into a fit of laughter and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He laughs breathlessly in shock for a few moments, hand coming up to his heart to ground himself.

“You good?” You lean back and brush his back the hair that had fallen in his face, peering into his eyes.

“Mhm!” Jisung nods with a tight-mouthed smile, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“Awhhh my poor babyy,” You coo, returning to your previous position and rocking him back and forth.

Eventually, you two settle into a comfortable position on the couch. You had tucked yourself into Jisung’s side, resting your head on his chest. He had recovered from his little heart attack and is now rambling on about the lore of Hollow Knight, with the steady beat of the ever-pounding storm at your walls as accompaniment. You sigh in contentment, bathing in the sound of his voice.

“Hey, Jisung?” You ask, after a moment of silence.

“Hm?”

“Stay with me?”

“Always.”

[elysianightsss]

RUN FROM ME DARLIN, YOU BETTER RUN FOR YOUR LIFE | PART ONE

Rejection. Open and hollow, stinging like a cat scratch, it’s monumental and abstract and it’s everything you never knew you wanted. Being rejected put you in this position, you could say it made you vulnerable but with the way his rough calloused hands manoeuvred over your skin, you could say it was worth it.

The way his half mast cerulean eyes rake over you, a prize to be earned. Something he’s going to win, not that he knows that yet. You’ll make him work for it, that much he does know though.

You’re deep in the infatuation of it even if you wish that’s not true. You relish in the feeling of his gaze on you, soft but yet somehow cold and distant. It sparks the interest you thought long gone. Dead and buried. The ends of it frayed like the neurons of your brain. Unravelled and worn at the edges.

Something dark and deceitful urges you to step forward, tempting you with the musky aroma of him. Something you’d like to devour whole if you could. The faint redolence of cigar smoke hung on his clothes.

He licked his thin chapped lips imagining the way his tongue would slide over your supple skin and despite the dull gnawing of insecurity that has grown since adolescence, you can imagine it too. His willpower hedging with every moment that slowly passes by, every moment that agonisingly ticks by.

The sweet decadence of your pulsing cunt lingers in the cold air, your nipples pebbling beneath your cotton night gown. He breathes in deep, harsh. A hint of mania colouring his grin as he groans at the smell of you, the scent you’re exposing yourself to him with. A poor little bunny trapped in the lions den….

Then he’s leaning in, parted lips inches from his. The thick beard on his face prickling against the skin of your chin. His breath mixing with yours, heat and desperation so present in the air. It hangs heavily around you, makes your knees weak.

Then his lips are moving, but nothing is coming out. He’s talking but it’s quite literally falling on deaf ears. You can’t hear a word he is saying. You frown, pulling away when a loud, obnoxious roar starts pestering you. It’s weaving its way behind your eyes, mixing with the light that doesn’t go no matter how hard you squeeze your eyes.

You’re soon fluttering them open, groggy and just the perfect amount of warm, you don’t want to move a muscle. You’re weak in a good way. In that, the duvet is heavy but not too heavy, you’re warm but not burning and if you pulled your curtains back into place so the moonlight wasn’t streaking through you’d fall right back to sleep.

That is if the thunder outside wasn’t annoyingly loud keeping you awake. Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a breath before sitting up not at all ready to start the day, especially not at four am in the morning but with the loudness outside you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon, so at least getting out of bed would be a start.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you comb through your wardrobe looking for something to throw over your pyjamas as a chill seeps into your bones, teeth beginning to chatter just as you pull on a soft, knitted sweater. You’re all long sighs, slow blinking and yawning every few minutes like you hadn’t just slept eight hours straight.

You feel out of it as you slide the sweater over your head, you’re practically falling back to sleep with your head resting on your arched knee while you pull on a pair of socks. It feels as though you hadn’t even slept a second when you’re pouring the milk into your tea, eyes all blurry and head starting to ache.

Your hands pause mid grabbing a spoon from your kitchen drawer, the dream. The vivid dream. The very real feeling of his rough calloused hands grazing over your skin, you can almost still feel the ghost of it on your arms. It makes you shiver. But you try to forget and by the time the sun comes up and a fog rolls in your successful.

October came in with golden days and silver nights, foggy mornings and coffee iced. It soothed your soul to see the harvest moon in the sky at night, brightened your heart when you spotted all the pumpkin patch picking signs dotted around town.

Town, you barely frequent it. If feels like a ghost town, hollow and not at all lived in. It’s more than an hour away from the cottage you were living in but there are these rare moments when you long for civilisation, so you put up with the drive there. Say hello to a few locals, grab some more food to stock your pantry with and leave feeling a little bit more socially charged than before.

This was one of those times. You smiled at the pumpkin patch and Halloween bash signs on the town events board. Hands full of bags after doing some food shopping. You even treated yourself to a new heavy weighted blanket, half off and so soft.

“Looks fun doesn’t it?” You jump, unnaturally on edge which the guy who spoke seems to notice. “Sorry, I come in peace I promise.” He smiles softly at you, American you noted, up here in the highlands. It makes your back tense and your shoulders stiff, a nervousness settling into your skin like a tattoo.

“It’s okay. I’m just a jumpy person.” You lie smoothly. You weren’t jumpy by far. You were highly trained not to be, but that had all changed after them. Maybe you were a little jumpy now.

“So you gonna go?” He asks and it makes your frown, you were so lost in thought about the monsters under your bed that you think you missed something. Then he points to the Halloween bash poster stapled to the board. His brown hair blowing in the cold breeze as he looks at you.

“Oh! No, not really my thing.” Another lie. You loved a good party, the dresses, the drinks, the dancing. You would love to go to one again, when you could be carefree enough to know you’re not being watched and no one was after you.

“So what is your thing?” He asks with a small smile, teeth showing and tender eyes. He didn’t look like a threat but you can never be too careful these days.

“I don’t know knitting.” You say outright before walking away but he follows you, you really don’t want to be rude to a local, maybe just this once if he doesn’t leave you alone? But it would draw attention to you, create whispers about you, the very thing you don’t want.

“Just knitting? You don’t have any other hobbies?” Interested or intel? You weren’t sure at this moment and maybe you’d never be sure again. You thought they were just interested and yet here you were hiding from them.

“Reading.” You don’t stop walking away from him, even hitting him with a ‘nice to meet you’ over your shoulder. He seems to get the message and stops following you. You keep looking back to make sure he goes away and he does, back to the town board thankfully giving you enough time to slip through the back alley of the store where you parked your jeep.

You load up the boot and get strapped in before you start driving off. You wouldn’t be coming back for a bit longer than usual, you didn’t want to create a pattern. Patterns are easy to track. You needed to be unusual. You do your regular checks, gun in one hand, knife in the other as you enter the cottage.

You were with them for months you know how they work and how they fight. You’re an outstanding tracker, they had noted. You would know if they were here and how to escape them. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. The place was clear. You really needed to get a dog or something.

You unpacked the bags and parked the car around the back hiding it under some waterproof tarpaulin. After putting all the food away, you made pasta for dinner and got cosy under the new blanket while you watched the next episode of Gilmore Girls.

This was what you did now, binged watched tv shows and movies you never had time to watch growing up. Who could blame you, when other girls were watching these shows and fawning over two vampire brothers and a human girl, you were fighting other unlucky girls and learning how to build bombs, resist poison and how to kill.

You were always jealous that Kate hadn’t been put in the red room by your parents like you had. She was their favourite you knew that, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she knew it too.

8 months ago ~

Your leg bounced as you sat in your designated seat on the Boeing CH-47 Chinook, new by the looks of it. You weren’t anxious, not that you’d admit it even if you were, you just know what happens every time you see Kate; all the feelings that come up that you’d rather not deal with. All the hurt you’ve tried desperately to avoid. It was all going to come rushing back, you just know it.

The helicopter landed and the ramp door opened, you moved from the main cabin following all the other passengers off the tandem-rotor helicopter. The sky was cloudy and atmosphere cold. It made you miss the heat of Malta, the sunbeds and cocktails but then again that’s how this whole mess got started.

A squad in camouflage gear were doing drills just off to your right, a couple of other teams were either coming back from missions or just heading out for them. Then you spotted her, Kate Laswell and her precious little 141. You practically spat the words in your head.

Slinging your duffle bag strap over your shoulder you stalked towards the group of five, past the soldiers jogging in a pack following a drill sergeant with a particularly loud mouth. You pushed though the crowds and descended on your target. Just as you reached her, she turned ready to walk inside the base only to find you blocking her path.

Kate gasped out your name, eyes wide with shock and body frozen. The reaction made you smirk, giving you a sick sense of pride for eliciting such a reaction from her.

“Hello sister.” The Russian accent swirling around your words was thick.

Kate stutters in her words not knowing what to say back to you other than an uneasy, “What are you doing here?”

“Well that’s not very nice to say to a family member who just flew 7 hours just to come see you.” You scoff looking her up and down with distaste.

“Wh-Why would you do that?” She cringes at how scared she sounds.

“I have some information for you, a mission too if you’re interested. All I know is I want nothing to do with it. This is something the military should deal with, not me.” You huff, eyes drifting to the bulky men stood behind her just by the four by four car.

“We should talk inside.” She says holding her hand out in the direction she wishes for you to go.

“You first.” You narrow your eyes, distrust burning in them. She nods and gestures for her team to follow.

You slam the haul of around thirteen red vials on top the table once you’re inside the debriefing room. Price and Ghost take a seat at the table to the left of where you stand, Soap and Gaz choose to stay standing by them. Kate rounding the table opposite you.

“It’s a chemical agent. The red dust is a gas used to free mind controlled victims from their subjugation. Dreykov has been trying to destroy it. One of the freed windows sent it to me and was killed for it too.” You stare at your estranged sister as she hangs on your every word, frown full of worry.

“What is a widow?” The man who was introduced to you as Soap MacTavish, while you walked inside the barracks, asks sounding genuinely confused. You scoff letting out a little laugh afterwards.

“God no wonder.” You shake your head the smile still on your lips but there was only anger on your face, “I kept checking in with my contacts to see if the famous Kate Laswell had taken down the red room for another one of those amazing promotions. But nothing.”

Kate looked speechless, unable to form any words without making the situation worse. Without pumping more hate into you, like that was even possible. The way you looked at her, like if she said one wrong thing you’d grab the knife in your thigh holster and throw it right between her eyes.

You turn to the four large men to the left of you, “A widow is a kidnapped girl who is brutally trained to become an assassin. The Red Room is the name of the place we are kept. The Black Widow program is one of the KGB’s espionage training programmes run by a man called Dreykov.” You explain, taking in their faces. They don’t look horrified but definitely suprised.

“Maybe one in twenty survives the training and becomes a window. The rest he kills. To him we are just things.” Your fists tighten, a dark look growing upon your face that makes even Ghost shift in his seat. “Weapons with no faces that he can just throw away because there is always more.” Your upper lip curls with disgust and for a moment Gaz thinks you’re going to let out a snarl. “He sees us as trash that is thrown away and he is simply recycling us.”

“Is this…” Kate takes a breath, short and shaky. The team thinks it’s the first time they’ve seen her waver, first time she looks unsure before speaking, gesturing towards the red vials “Is that what they did to you?” She looks at you through her lashes, her face pained.

“No. What I experienced was physiological conditioning for years.” You ignore the sharp inhale you hear to the left of you and keep talking,“I’m talking about chemically altering brain functions. They’re two completely different things.”

“You’re fully conscious but you don’t know which part is you,” you look down at the red chemical vials, “I’m still not sure.” Price takes in the lost look on your face, the frown that pulls your eyebrows so tight together it must hurt. He’s seen it before, in Simon’s eyes. “They could ask you to stop breathing and you’d have no choice but to obey.”

“Let my team do what they do best.” You raise an eyebrow in question. “Let them destroy this place and kill the man in charge.” Kate reaches for your hand but you’re quick to pull away as if her touch is furiously hot and would burn you. She feels her heart ache, missing the days you used to call her Katie and cling to her touch with nothing but happiness behind your eyes. Now there is nothing but bitter darkness.

“Even though the red room is impossible to find and Dreykov is too slippery to kill?” You scoff, leaning back from the table and crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“It’s what we do lass.” MacTavish gives you a little smile, almost trying reassure you that they could do it. That they could slay your demon.

“That sounds like a shitload of work.” Price barks out a laugh at your words.

“Maybe so. But it would save a lot of girls in the future.” Gaz countered, looking serious.

“Good luck fighting them. We’re trained specifically to copy our opponent’s fight style. Don’t underestimate them.” You try to warn them as best you can but you can see the cocky pride in them after winning the majority of their battles.

“I think we can handle them, you too.” Ghost declared with an air of amusement and a slight warning, one he’s wanted to say since you showed up. Your face drops, becoming void of all emotion as you lean forward, pressing your palms flat to the cold table. You lean in close to Ghost, eyes darkening as you do so.

“I was selected by a program that assessed the genetic potential in infants. A bargain was struck and they paid my parents off. They were more than happy to get rid of me in exchange for the cash.” You glance at Kate who has tears in her eyes, her sadness makes you glare, whipping your head back to the skull.

“I went on to become the greatest child assassin the world has ever know. Six hundred and seventy one confirmed kills by the time I was fifteen.” Ghost adjusts himself in his seat, moving back a bit and double checking to make sure his mask was on properly. Hiding his true feelings from the feral little thing in front of him. The way you stared at him, he felt like you could see right through him.

“They were so proud that no one could match my efficiency and ruthlessness. That’s the only reason they didn’t rip out my uterus and ovaries like they did to the other girls. Your pretty mask doesn’t scare me. Whatever nightmares you could conjure up, are dreams compared to what’s behind me.” You scowl, glowering at the man in front of you. He shifts once again, uncomfortable. The sight of this big man fidgeting under your gaze has a smirk crawling onto your face once again while you move back.

“I’m so sorry.” Kate chokes out, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “I didn’t know that-“

“Oh please.” You cut her off, “you must of known. That’s why you were more than okay to let our parents use me for that pathetic mission that earned you the promotion to your current position.” You spat before pointing to the vials.

Before Kate could refuse anything you cut her off, “Do what you want. It’s not my concern anymore, I have to leave now or I’ll miss the heli out of here. There won’t be another for a week and I’d rather not spend all that time with the five of you.” You go to turn but it’s a hand reaching for your shoulder that stops you.

The hand doesn’t even touch you before you’re reaching for it yourself, bending it once you’ve grabbed hold. You use your grip on the wrist to spin behind the person, twisting their arm behind their back and holding it there as you kick their legs swiftly. They fall to the ground, staring back up at you in surprise.

The chairs groaning against the floor fall on deaf ears, you��re still on edge, like a caged animal finally been let out and ready to fight anything that looks even remotely like a threat. Soap helps Gaz off the floor, ocean eyes never leaving you as he does so.

“I’m sorry that was stupid of me.” Kyle is quick to apologize though he isn’t quite sure why. Is it because his heart ached so much when you shared your painful story so casually just to shut Ghost up? Is it because he found you drop dead gorgeous? He’s not sure. All he knows is he wants to wrap you in his arms and never let the world touch you again, it had done so much damage to you already.

You breath in and out deep, slow. Calming yourself in the way you taught yourself. Meditation was one of the first things you learnt after you escaped the red room, it was either that or attack anyone who looked at you the wrong way.

You grab your duffle bag, with one last glance at Kate and the red vials still on the table, you left.

To be continued…

[rjthirsty]

"I'm Pregnant" with IkePri

We've seen how dating, their first time, and engagement proposals pan out, but what Cybird will never deliver to us is that pivotal moment that MC tells one of the LIs that she's expecting.

This is just my idea of how it will work out with each suitor. MC is AFAB, and all suitors are AMAB. Obvious mentions of pregnancy lie ahead. Just a fun little exercise to test out drabbles. 

[7/21] Jin, Chevalier, and Gilbert done

Jin

Jin is the king of pulling out, but somewhere along the line, he slipped up and it resulted in nothing so he started to get lax. Somewhere along the line, you two stopped worrying about it. More times than not he still denies you the creampie that it turns out he enjoys seeing seep out of you. But now you're late, and maybe you two should have been more vigilant.

It's hard to find the words. You confirmed it with a physician, and you know you need to tell him, but having a baby with a commoner churns up trauma for Jin, and you're afraid he'll turn you out.

He's worried. You have never looked so ashen. When you said you needed to talk, he dropped everything to give you time. His large hand palms your cheek. He dips down to look into your eyes. And in a voice that has helped you through countless times he says “Whatever it is, it'll be okay.”

“I'm pregnant.” You finally manage. 

Shock leaves him wide-eyed in surprise. It takes him a moment to zip through the thoughts that spring into his mind - a million possibilities, questions, and outcomes on what he'd do if this day had ever come. Then a grin lights up his face and you almost miss it as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you off the ground to hug tightly to him, spinning around from the sheer joy of having a child with you.

He's better than his father. And you're not his mother. And the world is a different place with the two of you together. He's more excited than you thought he'd be. He talks to your stomach even before the child can hear him. He wants to princess carry you everywhere. And he introduces you as the mother of his children.

Chevalier

The way Chev looked at you after you told him the news was chilling - not because it was his icy stare that had silenced rooms and struck fear in children, but because you had never seen him… scared. He was scared. The news was not happily recieved as you thought it would be.

As the two of you prepared for bed and you talked of your day, you broke the news with excitement and turned to see him stunned and staring. “Chevalier?” You called to him. His eyes cut from your belly to your face.

“It's okay. You're not a beast, and I'm not afraid of you.” Attempting to soothe his worries, you moved closer and slowly snuggled into his chest. “I'd be lucky to have a child just like you, because you're an amazing man.”

He relaxed in your arms, his own arms surrounded you as he dropped his chin to put his lips on your head. “I'd rather have a child like you who can love someone like me. You may never understand him if he's like me.”

“But I don't need to to love him.”

From that day forward, Chevalier dove into reading about medical studies and other literature on pregnancy, labor, and delivery. He stated checking up on you more often and bringing you all sorts of items said to help with pregnancy issues. He would have delivered your child himself except thankfully Clavis helped you talk him out of it. There are some things you'd rather he not be in the middle of.

Gilbert

“Do you want me to tell him?” Walter asked, a serious note in his voice.

“No. I want him to hear it from me.”

You knew the news of family was not a joyous thing in Obsidian. Especially for Gilbert. The land of deceit and decay, where families had murdered families for generations. Where the Emperor carried the sins of the Obsidian line that had wrought death and bloodshed countless times across this kingdom and others.

Gil had wanted to end it. To stop his line from continuing. And here you were, pregnant with his child. He wouldn't hurt you you were certain, but he might actually lock you up this time in order to prevent anybody else from hurting you. He could if he wanted. But living like that would leave everyone unhappy.

In order to prevent another bed-chaining, you visit him in his study. Before you made it two steps inside the room, he stood from his chair and moved towards you, worry clouding his face. He felt your anxiety. Something was not right with you, and he knew it.

“I'm fine,” you assured him as he quickly looked you over. “I just… have something to tell you.”

Gil's perfect smile covered up his momentary worry. “Surely, no one has bothered my little rabbit. Yet your heart is racing like the day we met.”

“No, no one has bothered me.” You step closer to him and wrap your arms around him, trapping him in place. With a lean of your back, you lock onto his single red eye to show how serious you are, and plainly explain, “I'm pregnant.”

His hands fly out, snatching you close to him as he squeezed you against his chest, holding onto you like you might somehow slip away if he were to let go. This is not the first time he has done this. You brace against him, giving him at least a few seconds of his desperate hugging before it begins to feel like he'll crush you. It always goes like this. 

“Gil! Gilbert, please. I can't breathe.”

He relinquished you, and as you gasped lungfuls of air, he scooped you up and strode out the door. “Wait! Gil! Where are we going?”

You were used to the palace by now that you knew he was headed towards his bedroom. Even if he didn't answer, you could already see how this was going to go. “Put me down! I am not going to be locked up and hidden away. That is not how you treat people you love.”

“Do you presume you can order me around?”

“No, but if you do this, I will never forgive you.”

Gilbert slowed his steps and came to a stop. In his eye you could see emotion wavering, and while you hadn't learned how to read him as well as he knew how to read you, you had learned to see the different sides of him that he only shared with you. 

“Now,” you began calmly, “I'll make some tea, and we can talk about this. At a table. With no shackles or rope.”

“I’m so weak to your requests. At least let me lock the doors so no one can bother us.”

“You can lock the doors if I get the key to them during our talk.”

Gilbert's biggest fear is losing someone he loves. He recognizes he has desires to control and cage MC to keep her safe from others, but he also knows those desires are not acceptable. He's at the mercy of his emotions, and despite being a genius, he often acts on whims, especially relating to MC. I'd love to explore this further. See how far we can push him.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

❥‧ not a word

in which: all the warnings were true. and he was the one guy you should've told no.

genre: angst. pairing: fuckboy!hyunjin x fem!reader. rating: mature mdni. masterlist

warnings: mentions of virginity loss, toxic situationship, reader is a simp, a whole lotta yap, not proofread, rough sex

a/n: im getting back into writing finally... no promises though. a lot has been gong on recently so sorry I havent posted. new style >.> someone tell me if you liked the other one better

There was two things you learned going through your sophomore year of college. The first was pay attention to the lectures and the second was list to the rumors. Maybe if you had listened to the rumors you wouldn't be stuck like this, stuck in this stupid cycle because the other girls had warned you. Warned you about his pretty full lips and infectious smile, his dark eyes and enticing voice.

Yet you fell.

And you fell hard.

And you let yourself be used. Apology after apology, and you forgave him every time. because he "could change".

You still remember that night, drunk after a party and he convinced you. "You're the only one for me, you're the only one I want."

You remembered how it felt clawing at his shoulders as he bucked into you, shattering your innocence in a cloud of what you thought was love. How he held you down and made you take very inch. You could still hear his whispered praises and soft moans, telling you how good you were for him, how you were made for him.

You.

Only you.

Yet it wasn't only you.

And even when you heard he was running around with so many other girls, you still forgave him when he came to your apartment with your favorite flowers and got on his knees before you. Begging you to forgive him like you were a god and he were a sinner plagued by deceit.

You still let him guide you to the couch and worship your body, his lips and mouth moving over your skin with such purpose and passion. Treating you like a princess the entirety of the day, showering you with his "love".

And he was walking with someone else not even two day later.

So what gave him the right to stop you from going around with someone new. Let that someone new into your apartment, let him flex that he'd made it between your legs.

Nothing gave him the right to stop you, or beg you. Yet he did. And you let him.

You let him get into your bed, legs hiked over his shoulders as he pounded into you, hand moving from your tit to your throat and applyingjust enough pressure to remind you. You were his.

Whatever it was you had going on, no matter how many times he'd hurt you, you still fell back into him.

It bothered you that he'd be with someone else. And it bothered him even more that you'd run to some other guy. But Hyunjin couldn't stop himself from wanting more. No matter how many times you whispered those words in the dark in his arms and he never spoke them back. Because he couldn't. Because he didn't.

You stared up into his eyes, dull ache in your chest as it weighed on you, this was fun and nothing more. He rubbed your nub furiously, drawing your orgasm out of you, fucking you through it as it hit you like a freight train. Right as his high built and his thrusts grew deerp, deep and sloppy, bruising your cervix from the force as if he wanted you to feel more than just his cock bullying into you. As if he wanted you to know even if he had all the girl he wanted in his bed, you were the only one he'd come back to every time.

"Fuck Y/n!" He groaned, throwing his head back, "I..." He shoved his cock in completely and groaned as he released his load into you.

He never spoke it once, but you felt it right as you started to fall asleep, the gentle kiss he left on your forehead before gathering his things.

You really should've listened to the rumors. Maybe you would've heard that Hyunjin would tell you a million things and more without uttering a word to you.

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK !

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[skrrts]

stairs & life, up / down (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x kim hongjoong ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, strangers to love interest, comfort, soft emotional ✧ word count: 10,4k ✧ warnings: adult language, smoking (don’t do it!), loneliness, end of friendships, moving on from a relationship, getting over heartbreaks, facing challenges in life, crying

The ripping sound of paper, the clicking of a mechanical keyboard. Loneliness sounds & feels different to everyone but somehow, Hongjoong feels like you understand his. Yet, you confuse him. Why was your first encounter so bold when he hears you crying at night when you think nobody is listening? The fire escape of the old building suddenly becomes a place of comfort he didn’t expect to find in the loneliest city, filled with millions of people but now, there is you.

a/n: when i think of summer, i think of spending long nights outdoors because it's still warm and you just talk for hours without worrying about whatever happens tomorrow. hongjoong & mc both went through some hardships with different types of relationships but they are where they want to move on, all they needed was a hand to grab them and help them going forward. thanks for reading 🤎

The sound of paper being torn apart was often how Hongjoong would describe what his own heartbeak felt like and maybe, if it wasn’t already in pieces, it would be now. Fifty hours of passion, sleepless nights, and love torn apart, a woman with an unpleasant face hissing when she dropped his art like it was a random document.

“There was no reason to destroy it just because you did not like it,” he finally stated and received glares for daring to speak up. “It was garbage, what exactly did you plan to do with it? In fact, every artwork you have shown me in the past few months has been just that. What was the point in hiring you when your social media works were all fake?!”

Hongjoong wanted to wince but somehow managed to keep it together, being called deceitful as an artist who had given up so much for his art was hard.

“My style is exactly the same as the work you saw when you contacted me and I work the exact same way,” he bit his lip when she stood up and seemed more interested in answering her phone which was constantly buzzing in her overpriced pouch. People of her rank often held no passion at all, they only faked it for the smiles and the press.

”You have another month, if you cannot come up with the proper concept, you are out and of course, we cut your payment in half again. After all, since you came here five months ago, you did not deliver anything we could work with. That’s all.”

Hongjoong was about to demonstrate but the director of the publishing agency just left him standing there. 

He never wanted to come to New York, he could not care less about the city everyone wanted to live in but there had been nothing left for him back home. When he found the girl he loved and dated since high school being with another, the one he had given his whole heart to so foolishly, telling him it was a pity that kept them together for so long because just like so many other people around him, she judged him for his passion and his income rather than his values and happiness. Sure, he could survive from what he was doing but in their eyes, it was not worth to be called living. She dreamt of a house with a pool, a nice car, and an expensive beach vacation, rather than a cozy apartment, taking the bus and weekend trips.

On that day, when he was crying and walking through his hometown without direction, his parents said that it was time to finally grow up and work for a mindless ad agency that would gladly take somebody with his talent rather than chase his dreams of being permitted to illustrate an entire children's book, one with a deeper meaning unlike all the projects he was part of so far, where he often designed characters but based on guidelines rather than freely.

The invitation of a publisher seemed to be a wink of fate but now, Hongjoong simply found himself trapped in a city of millions, yet never having been more alone. 

Maybe he always had been, considering how blind love made him, believing to hold the love of a woman who cheated on him for who knows how long, likely even making use of his nights of working and being home late.

He had been such a fool.

The small ringing of a bell announced his arrival as he entered the familiar small grocery store which always was the destination at the end of days like today.

One benefit in all of his misery, Hongjoong was used to managing his life with little money, he could live from the shortened salary with some tricking and ignoring cravings. There also had been savings for emergencies, put aside for better times.

“How do you even manage to survive when this is all you eat?” San frowned, pointing at the selection of instant noodles and a few cans as he scanned each one. The store belonged to his family and the student helped out frequently. 

Hongjoong offered him a playful little grin: “Magic, Sannie. Now…”

He bit his cheek and the man knew, frowning: “Another package? You said you meant to quit smoking for good… you rather should get dinner rather than spend it on this shit.”

Painted nails brushed through dark wavy hair as he shrugged: “I’m an artist, we need to have some kind of weakness, yes? Unless I suddenly find a muse and that one makes me go insane.”

He knew the other meant well as he sighed but added a package into the plastic bag, handing it to him. “Just look out for yourself.”

Hongjoong smiled at the younger: “I always do. See ya.” The guy did not need to know what he was going through, maybe Hongjoong himself was still trying to understand just that.

It was easy to smile for everyone, he had become an expert in that field. Maybe he should join those TikTokers who made seminars out of canvas pages about something that barely was a secret but called it ‘Guide to Happiness’.

At least, he was about to be home, his haven. Hongjoong had been thrilled when he found the under-the-roof apartment because there was no AC and the building was rundown, the rent was cheap but he loved it because he easily managed to access the roof, there was nothing more beautiful than allowing himself to sulk in loneliness while watching the never sleeping city.

It was almost poetic, wasn’t it?

There also used to be the benefit of being the only one who did not put some shutters on the window which was the entrance to the fire stairs. The view was ugly, but it was handy to simply take the stairs and get right up.

Well, it used to be because the new tenant who moved into the apartment right underneath him did not seem to share the sentiment of the others, the window was always wide open and it would be creepy if he would rush past it.

He lurked up but Hongjoong noticed immediately how it was open again and he sighed, muttering to himself as he made the way up to the longer stairs. Too many. He dodged a few abandoned shoes of children in front of one, a growling dog at the third, and survived!

“I am home.” 

When he unlocked the door, silence greeted him. There no longer was anyone who rushed over to smile and welcome him back but now, he was not even sure if that ever happened or merely being an imagination, an altered memory. 

His apartment was small but that was okay, he didn’t need a living room and only having a tiny shower made being short less tragic.

While Hongjoong lived up to the cliche of being a poor artist, at least he did not need too much space.

His gaze went over the sketches still scattered over the kitchen table, picking one up: “Guess, you aren’t it either, sorry.” Unlike that awful woman, he carefully formed a small pile and put it in a paper tray for all his rejected designs, so far it had been every single one he offered to them. 

Maybe it was time to give up…

No, this was not the time to cry and get sad! Urgh, hard enough to admit he had been such a crybaby when moving here, the way how his heart ached and he was lost among strangers. It was when he started smoking again, something he stopped years ago but now.

There was nobody who would complain about the smell.

Hongjoong slipped into the shower, running water always helped to wash away thoughts, he just imagined it as he carefully cleaned every inch before enjoying the feeling of a fresh pair of clothes and ruffling his hair with a towel. 

“Attempt number seven it is,” he sat down, pulling over his tablet when a loud ringing sound interrupted the early hours of the night, enough to make him jump.

“The fuck?!” Hongjoong blinked, looking around but he was sure he didn’t even own an old-fashioned alarm clock. As the sound wouldn’t stop, he rushed to the window, lurking out only to realize it must be coming from your place. Why would you have an alarm clock going off at nine?!

Nobody else seemed to be interrupted by it but Hongjoong and he was working best at night. As nothing happened, he figured you probably just forgot to turn it off before leaving, how reckless to leave your window open in New York!

There was clear hesitation before he climbed out of his window, taking down the stairs: “Screw this…”

Your window was wide open, the curtains softly floating outside, all lights on. Your place was just a little bigger than his but you surely put more effort in! The walls were painted in a comfortable olive green, plants matched perfectly with the white furniture and there was a large gaming setup he did not really expect but then, what did he know about you? The bed was covered with far too many pillows but there it was, the one causing so much trouble.

The alarm clock had the shape of a flower, it was cute and he wondered how somebody who liked such a style would move to this part of the city…

“What do I do?” Hongjoong looked around. He counted to one hundred. There was nobody in sight, the sound drove him insane and he did not want you to get back home just to find your expensive equipment stolen. The world was an asshole to him but he intended to be better.

He swallowed and slipped inside your home, quick steps leading to the damn noisy item to turn it off. At that moment, the bathroom door opened and you walked inside, holding likely a few bottles of soap you just switched out, your gazes met and he could see how your face turned red, just like his own, and the next second, there was a small scream and you started to throw shampoo bottles at him.

Hongjoong tried to dodge them, dropping the alarm clock in the attempt and grabbed one of your pillows to protect himself.

“Hold on! Stop throwing things at me”, he called out but now you seemed angry.

“Why would I do this?! You just broke into my apartment! A thief? Gosh, you are one of those perverts, aren’t you?” You were one burst of energy, he had to give you that. Hongjoong was about to say something when he fell backward over another pillow.

His hands lifted up into the air, praying you’d not murder him with hair conditioner: “Hold on, hold on. I live above you! Your alarm wouldn’t stop and I thought you left so I meant to close the window, lots of robberies in this neighborhood!”

While your face remained distrustful, you held your movement in the middle of the air, frowning, doubting.

“Which neighbor breaks into a place to turn off an alarm bell?” you questioned and that was a good question. Who would have done that? 

“Well, I actually work at night, I need a little bit of silence but how am I supposed to do this with that noise?” he pointed at the alarm once more and this time, you considered his words.

“Fine, let’s say it is the truth. It’s still weird, you could have used the staircase and just knocked on the door like any other angry neighbor would.”

That was… a very good point. 

“I should have done that,” he admitted and slowly stood again. You were looking at him, maybe considering how he barely looked like a threat, considering he was wearing pajama pants and a hoodie with a washed-out brand name.

“Alright, I will forget about it. Now get out!” you pointed towards the window and Hongjoong found himself blushing in embarrassment. he clapped his hands, bowing slightly: “I promise to knock next time.”

As you hurried over, you wondered if he had seen right and there was a small smile on your lips as he carefully slipped out. As he turned around on the fire escape, you closed the window, and your gazes met for a moment, he was giving you a tiny wave before you rolled your eyes and closed your curtains.

Hongjoong stood there, blinking for a moment until he sighed and made his way upstairs, just to be greeted with the wind likely having shut his own, forcing him to go all the way down like that and up to his apartment. Thankfully he didn’t lock the door yet when he came home earlier.

“Tch, such a reckless neighbor,” he smiled.

“Oh? Oh! This is new!” Wooyoung fished the box with flower-shaped chocolate out of the paper bag. Hongjoong made a face, trying to snatch it but the younger grinned, holding it up.

“They are also kind of expensive, do you have a crush?” It took some effort but eventually, he stole his box bag and gave it to San who was scanning them.

“I am not in love, I just kind of pissed off one of my neighbors and now I intend to make it up somehow since they live in the apartment right underneath me,” he put quite a bit of effort in leaving out as many details as possible because Wooyoung would be curious enough to just knock on your window to see himself.

“Right, you said somebody moved into the empty apartment? Took some time, you mentioned that it was already without a tenant when you moved in.”

He appreciated the cashier was offering some distraction to his best friend’s consideration of just going with Hongjoong, he did not need to say it out loud for the older to guess as much.

“Ah yeah, the landlord was surprised when he offered that one but I asked about the rooftop apartment instead. I just like the peace and quiet, nobody above me, all that,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his neck.

“The Lone artist above the rooftops of New York City, romantic if you asked me,” Wooyoung winked and grabbed his backpack. “Anyway, time for training, call you later San!” He waved and rushed off, the other just smiled before handing the grocery bag to Hongjoong.

“I am sure the person knows to appreciate it, this is the first time I have seen you try and … well, mention to interact with anyone outside of this store.” 

Hongjoong tried his best not to swallow hard. While San only was having a casual conversation, he called out something that the artist had tried to avoid admitting: he had dodged everyone and everything ever since coming here.

The hurt was still too deep, the way the person closest to him, he smiled at and kissed every day, threw him away like trash and everyone else saying he should understand how it certainly wasn’t an easy life rather than taking his side

or just offer comfort.

He could have used a hug.

Now, it was hard to let anyone in. San and Wooyoung were nice but they just were two guys working at a grocery store that was conveniently close to his apartment, as kind as they seemed. 

“I just really like living here, sure, the neighborhood’s a bit … tense at times but otherwise, the rent is really cheap and the place is great to work at, not much noise considering we are in a city of this size.” 

San was looking at you, it was hard to tell if he took it or simply decided to keep his thoughts to himself but he smiled: “Well, just make sure to also enjoy the city, not only busy yourself with work. I know, artists are said to do that but yeah.”

It was as if he wanted to say more but Hongjoong already waved in tiny, grabbing his bag: “Speaking of that, I have a deadline so I better be going. Thanks again.”

Hongjoong was out the moment after, he could not hear San’s deep sigh when the bell rang once more.

He spent a good amount of time drawing a little doodle that looked like your alarm clock, looking upset and cursing about that weird guy in a little thought bubble. Next to it, Hongjoong wrote, "Sorry for having broken into your place, heard this chocolate is great." He was pleased with the result and carefully stepped outside his window, placing the little delivery right by your window, knocking against the glass, and he rushed upstairs, jumping into his own home as he waited for the noise of you opening.

His heart was beating loudly when he lurked around the corner, hearing you sigh but in a pleasant way. He did not dare to fully look, biting your lip but after a very long minute, he could hear your voice: "Just knock next time you want to say hello."

Your laugh was so soft and cute.

He grinned when the window was shut a moment later and the chocolate was gone.

Hongjoong had a talent for forgetting about time when he was working and it was less about the deadline and more so about his passion. He always loved to draw, it had been his escape from a young age and he pushed through it, no matter the concerns of everyone around him. He never wanted to be rich, just do what he loved and make enough to be able to live from it.

In a way he did, his old apartment was small but nice with a lovely view and enough space for two. Looking back, he had been a fool how he thought that his ex would enjoy it, that she liked they took their time and both added to a dream of a larger home. The series he illustrated with a few other artists for a children's magazine was doing well then, he knew it was one of the favorites in consideration of being further produced with another spin-off when it happened, Hongjoong quit.

Just like most, he also worked digitally but when he was in the early stages, he often liked to reach out for old-fashioned paper, getting a few sketches done. It was when his pencil rolled from the table that he pulled the chunky headphones from his ears to pick it up when he heard it for the first time.

It was a quiet sob, the kind where you hated yourself and just wanted to stop but your body was boycotting you, ignoring your quiet pleas for it to stop. Hongjoong had done the same for a while after coming to New York but somehow, yours hit him more than he expected. The way you faced him when he came in, the conversation after.

He should know better than assuming you were a confident person just doing your thing.

His slim figure pressed against the wall next to the open window when he listened to how you cried.

It was strange, when the heart ached, even a city like this could fall in utter silence, making one feel even more alone. He bit his lip, it was hard to listen to it and when he finally convinced himself that checking on you was more important than his fear of interrupting, the small clicking sound to pull his window fully open seemed to be enough to chase you inside like a bird fleeing from busy human steps.

All Hongjoong managed to see was the way how your lights turned off and for a moment, he wondered if you maybe prayed that he did not come down to see, that the weird guy above you just opened his window to let him some refreshing air in at the end of Summer.

He was trying to recall all of those nights after you moved in, where he kept his window open and so did you. What did he hear then? There had been that clicking sound, he could hear it any time he ended up sneaking up to the roof to smoke a cigarette. He never put much thought into it but now, you always seemed to be typing on your keyboard and you were home all the time, just like he was.

When he returned from groceries, your lights were on, and when he lurked outside in the morning, the window open.

In a movie, he probably would have thought more about it and told himself to see if it would happen again. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe you were just going through a hard breakup.

Just.

Maybe, if anyone had been more gentle with Hongjoong, he'd not have felt the need to move far away in a desperate attempt of moving on.

No, things would have been different if people would have acted and wasted less time guessing.

"Screw this," he cursed and walked over to the mirror. He was trying to fix his hair but it was a mess so he grabbed a hoodie and put on some summer shorts, cigarettes shoved inside of his pockets, two bottles of soda in each hand.

If you thought he was insane after this, he could live with it, really. He preferred it above having to regret wondering what happened tonight.

Hongjoong took two stairs at once until he was in front of your windows, curtains closed and while it was dark, he could see a small gleam of light, likely from your phone. He took a deep breath before knocking again.

"Hi there, it's me. Again... Uh I am Hongjoong! I know I am probably starting to get annoying, and if you decide to not answer, please just do not call the police.... I was just thinking, maybe you want to have a soda with me? I can't slepe either, I tend to work through the night.

He rambled because this was how he found comfort, he did not need to hear specific words, just little affirmation, a gesture of love. It could be something silly.

When you did not answer, he bit his lip and looked around: "Uh, I will sit down here and smoke one cigarette. If you decide not to come when it's done, I promise I go back up. I'll leave you one bottle there."

He called, placed it down carefully, and moved over to the stairs, taking a few up before sitting down, opening his own drink before lightening the cigarette.

He was exhaling only for the first time when the window opened: "You know, smoking is super unhealthy?"

Your voice did not indicate that you were crying but he could see your eyes still being red and puffy. Hongjoong looked at you like you were amazing just like that.

"You are right, I admit, I only picked the habit up recently again."

He blinked surprised when you grabbed the bottle and sat down by his side, just to take the cigarette away and inhale the smoke. He was blushing, not having expected such a bold move after you cried.

"Guess, we can make it a bad habit just for tonight then," you breathed and used the stairs to open the bottle, drinking it more like it was a party drink rather than ordinary soda, offering the cigarette back.

Hongjoong was in awe, he did not assume you would be so outgoing, although he had no doubt you were brave considering the way you two encountered face to face for the first time. The thought let him grin a little: "Sounds good to me."

His gaze wandered back over the not-that-pretty view: "The sight from the roof is pretty amazing, not sure if you maybe want to have a look another night. I can show you how to get up there."

You laughed, relaxing back: "Why am I not surprised you went up there?"

The man looked innocently: "Well, I have a lot of time to think when I am settling for a design."

The word seemed to gain your interest and you leaned in: "You work at night and that doodle was really cute. Is it something artistic you are doing for a living?" The question was fair and straightforward, leading him to shrug just a little. Most people were disappointed about the answer, somehow it did not seem to be a popular idea when it came to art.

"I work as an illustrator for children's books or that is the preferred one, I also do magazines or commercial designs for such. As for books, I do both, the traditional ones for young kids where the images carry most of the story but I also occasionally take scenes from books for older audiences, you know, mainly those right before young adults where you find little images between the chapters? Mh, I dream to make one exactly in the design I want but for now, I am stuck to work with criteria set by the publishers."

Hongjoong learned to explain what he was doing right away because when it came to illustrations, people often thought about the really expensive artworks connected to infamous titles. You did not really seem to bother with the clichés, instead, your face was so bright and excited, that he was feeling shy.

"That's so cool? I only got into reading because of those kinds of books. I mean, I get it, you are supposed to go wild with your imagination when it comes to reading but I always preferred those pages that told me what to expect but that makes sense, I'm a number person. I like facts."

Numbers, huh.

"This is the very infamous part where I offer to you that if you ever want to see something, knock on my window any time or well, I guess. You have all the right to just walk in through my window. I am awful and my phone is my alarm clock tho," he teased with a more confident grin and you returned it gladly.

"I will keep it in mind, Hongjoong." You stretched.

"It's getting late and you wasted your cigarette, I will take that as a sign to withdraw," you smiled and picked up your bottle, standing. The artist was a little disappointed but it was fair, he knew it had been far after midnight when he heard you crying but now, he was happy to see you relaxed.

"Maybe I will come back to your offer," you hummed and walked down to your window. "Oh, by the way, I am __ and don't be too disappointed, I am a software engineer. That is also why I am home all the time, the bliss of being able to dodge offices but I feel, that you know well."

As you slipped inside, you were about to close the window before lurking out again: "The chocolate was tasty, thank you."

As the window shut, Hongjoong stood there, smiling to himself.

He didn't remember ever having felt as tense in the past when handing in drafts. His old publisher had been a guy in his early 60s and even in the early stages of Hongjoong's 'career', supporting them to test their own ideas within the limits of the work. Something about getting a poor payment but at least, being able to do their thing.

There was yet a small voice of hope, one that told him this piece of paper would not be torn apart because the woman was looking at it far longer than she had at any other of his earlier designs. After hanging out with you, Hongjoong had worked nonstop, a new adrenaline rush that helped him get done with it.

Finally, he exhaled when she leaned back, placing it on the desk: "Finally, something we can work at. I approve of the cats, I expect a more detailed version at the end of the week. The dogs are too ... basic. There is just nothing memorable about them, I want two pairs of options for them. That would be all, Mister Kim."

Hongjoong could live with that! The cats were the story's main protagonists about a pair of cat siblings moving with their owners to a new city and dealing with all of the changes. Yeah, maybe it did not seem like a deep story, just another book to offer comfort to kids moving but the name on both, the writer and label were big... opening doors. What else did he have left than his career and maybe, the nagging desire to show everyone how he could do it?

I would rather be happy tho, and loved.

He only gave her a quick nod as she seemed busy again, slipping out of the office. "Why is this such a pain...." he mumbled and checked his phone. Would it be weird or too early to ask you for your number? Hongjoong hadn't given it to anyone, well except San because he got permission to use the convenience store as a secondary address, should packages fail to be delivered to his door.

Hongjoong could not deny that he was tempted to look you up online but he did not log into any of his accounts since coming to New York. If anything... he did not even tell anyone. He just sold everything, quit his job, and moved. The only person who knew was his older brother, who had been supportive unlike the rest of the family but accepted his wish to remain hidden for some time.

"Honjgoong!"

Hearing his name out in the open made him wince and he blushed when he noticed it was you who called out for him. You were smiling, waving confidently, ignoring gazes. Maybe you really just had a tough day last night. It was so hard to imagine you being somebody who cried a lot.

"Seeing you out in the wild, I am scared," he teased with a grin, walking to your side. You pointed at the heavy bags with groceries, making him realize what you wanted.

"I see how it is, somebody asking me to make the stairs my workout," he chuckled as you looked innocently. "How about, we call it quits then, for good? And in return, you can use the fire escape as often as you want, no worries. You did start to avoid doing that because of me, didn't you?"

He was surprised by the question: "Uh... how do you know about that?"

You laughed and it was sweet, he preferred seeing you happy: "Well, when I signed the contract, the owner told me the guy above likes to take them so he advised me to put something in front of the window but then, nobody ever came."

It was your way to tell him you appreciated he tried to think of your comfort, wasn't it?

"If you are sure, I rather like walking them. I got one of those window locks, I found them on a website and they are really handy. I just prefer it because the dog from the lady on the third floor, he hates me," he admitted.

It seemed to amuse you: "Not surprised, you remind me of a cat or maybe more of a fox? Mh, I love them equally, pick the one you prefer." You rushed ahead while he took the bags, rubbing a hand over his face. Ah, it was a talent of yours, wasn't it? Making him blush.

Thankfully, it wasn't too far from the building and Hongjoong got up all the bags in no time.

"Do you want to come in?" your offer showed a hint of hesitation and Hongjoong was overworrying again. Would it be strange to accept it? Was he too keen on showing how he really would like it?

"Sure, I have some time until nightfall. I have to update some of the designs, they finally accepted two of them," he made sure not to stare, not only to be polite but he already had seen your apartment when he broke in last time.

You opened the fridge and offered him a bottle of cool water, one he gladly accepted. "You said, you do like computer things... Don't mind me, I do not know a whole lot about it. I admit, when I was here last time, I thought you might be a gamer."

His Ex used to watch Twitch streams, something about finding them relaxing.

He regretted the question the instant he asked because of how your expressions slipped.

"Ah, you could say I used to enjoy gaming? It was something I did with a ... former friend." The way you reacted hinted likely it must have been a really good friend, or why else would you look so hurt about saying such a thing` Friendships ended so often, yet this one must have meant a lot to you.

Hongjoong tried not to read too much into your expressions, he did not know you well enough to have a right of doing so, likely just misreading it.

"I am sorry to hear. My friends and family weren't always so keen on my obsession with working for book illustrations either. I would not say they meant to tell me to instead work a proper job but they thought, I should just work for some big company that needs them for ads and such but that is just so soulless, you know?"

His confession was too honest but he felt comfortable with you, sharing it. Maybe it really was because you were strangers and you did not know him or his past, you wouldn't judge him based on that.

He prayed you'd not. You seemed to think about it before saying with the kindest smile: "Following your dreams is important, Hongjoong. I get that, families always mean well but sometimes, we have to figure things out on our own."

He was too nervous to offer a good answer.

"Anyway!" the quick smile was forced but he accepted it. "You said, you know how to get up on the roof? I was thinking, we could do it tonight? It sounds silly but there will be a star shower... I do not think we can see it in a city like this but we can pretend to! I shopped for some snacks, we can make it our own little event."

Hongjoong blinked, eyes big when you invited him: "Oh! Sure! I can make some time, just knock on my window!" He did not have the time based on the deadline... but he would get it done for you! Sounded like time to fight the habit of sleeping in and work during sunlight hours for a change.

"Awesome, I'm excited then!"

There was not too much else to be said it seemed, your thoughts clearly elsewhere, and Hongjoong could only guess it was because of your friend.

The illustrator spent an hour trying to pick an outfit. Tanktop, skinny jeans, some jewelry, he even picked a barret he hadn't worn in ages but it seemed the best way to deal with his hair, even his nails were repainted before he climbed up and prepared a small cozy corner, a blanket, two pillows and a few LED candles.

By the time you knocked on his window, he was almost terrified he made it look too much like a date but then, he looked at you and it seemed, you had a similar mindset. You looked stunning, and the backpack hinted you got more than a few snacks.

"You look amazing," Hongjoong complimented, he liked your style. "Sush, you sure you aren't a model and just failed to tell me?" You brought up the cliche line but it made him laugh: "Well, I tried."

As he joined you, he led you up the stairs which ended abruptly. "If you pull here, there is actually a hidden ladder," he explained and showed it to you. "Very handy, and you can simply pull it up from up there so nobody sees it."

You seemed amazed just how simple it was and carefully climbed up first.

"Oh Hongjoong, this is so pretty!" you gasped, looking at his little setup. The sun vanished just a little while ago and the candles created a nice atmosphere.

"Well, how often does one get invited to star gazing at my age? I thought it would be nice," he explained, chewing his lip as he helped you take off the backpack.

"Well, I guess it is good then I brought an entire picnic!" Indeed, you did but it wasn't just snacks, you prepared the meal obviously yourself and it made him wonder. Did anyone other than his mother ever do this for him?

"This looks delicious!" he clapped his hands together, looking over it.

"Mh, I cannot promise the taste can live up to the looks because it has been a while since I made most of these dishes," you admitted and offered him a pair of chopsticks but he shook his head: "It already smells great, and nothing can betray that."

You seemed to enjoy how expressive Hongjoong was in showing just how much he loved your cooking. His face did not manage to hide it but it was to no surprise, not only because it was tasty but because he had been living off ramyun for the past couple of months due to his cut salary.

"This is so good, I will vote for you as home cook of the year," he mumbled between trying to chew and swallowing.

"Hongjoong, are you sure you ate in the past month or two? You are eating like you were about to starve," you smiled but there was a little concern in your voice as you ate slowly.

The artist carefully placed his chopsticks aside, contemplating if it was okay to be so honest but since he already shared quite a bit with you, it seemed fair.

"To be honest, I came here a little unplanned. I got this really amazing deal or it sounded like that but the publisher CEO lady has rejected all of my designs of the past few months and they cut my salary in half every time. I get around with some savings but food wasn't on top of my priority list."

Now you did seem concerned and sighed: "You know what? She is stupid! I looked up your work and it's so cute? I mean it! I know nothing about that business branch but I like it, they are cute and as a kid, I'd have loved them but also... I used to share a place with somebody and I have a hard time getting rid of the habit of cooking more than I need. How about you come over here and then, and pick up the rest? I hate to throw away so much."

Did you look him up? Oh, that was unexpected. Hongjoong was just looking at you in awe and you seemed a little confused by it.

"You do not have to, of course!" It seemed you both were good at misreading.

He hurried to wave his hands: "Oh no! I'd love that! I just... was a little shy when you looked it up. I appreciate it. If you ever need a doodle or like ... anything drawn, let me know. I like doing it for people."

As he looked at you somehow, it felt like you two were the same. Something happened which brought you here, leaving behind a very different life but now that you sat in front of him like that, Hongjoong was so grateful and he tried to place the meaning of his heart beating just a little too enthusiastically right now.

"You know, when I was in high school, I was befriended with this really amazing guy, Hwa. He moved away with his parents before graduation but after exams, when we both knew we screwed up really badly. He would drag me up to the rooftop of our school and play silly songs from the early 2000s we danced to. I know that sounds insane but how about... we do that?"

Hongjoong didn't think about Seonghwa in a long time. He tried to find him online a few years ago but it seemed the older did not think too much about social media either.

"You want to dance?" you chuckled and checked your phone: "Well, I'd say we have another hour until the promised star shower so let's do it. You will have to provide the music tho, I forgot to close my Spotify on my computer."

Hongjoong grinned: "No worries, I got us."

It was funny but he remembered the song and there was an entire playlist dedicated to the vibe he wanted to go for. Relaxed and soft, a little silly but not embarrassing. He ensured the volume wouldn't cause too much attention but you did not seem to care at all.

When the melody and the lyrics began you just let go. Hongjoong swallowed as he watched you and for the first time in a long time, suddenly he was feeling... excited? It was different from a grand job offer or moving, it was more like that telling himself life would go on actually was real. That good things still would happen if he just kept on going.

"What are you waiting for? Don't tell me you are getting shy now," you moved closer to him, taking his hands without hesitation before starting to dance together. The shuffle was doing a good job because it went from energetic, leading to the two of you just silly jumping and vibing to something a little slower and before he knew it, his arms were curled around your figure and you rested your head against his shoulder as you moved with the music.

"This is nice," you whispered, your gaze seemed to be far off in the distance. "I forgot how nice it can be just like that." You sighed deeply without saying anything else but Hongjoong quietly agreed as his hug tightened a little. "It really is."

It was only when your phone started to ring and you withdrew that he was a little disappointed. "Okay, time for the stars!" you smiled, looking around before glancing back at the blanket. "Let's do it like we are in the countryside!"

Without hesitation, you grabbed a pillow and laid down, looking up to the sky which was just dark, the light of electricity stealing the beauty of the night. Hongjoong laid down next to you, looking up.

"Isn't this the most beautiful night sky you have ever seen?" you gasped, pointing towards nothing: "There they are! Okay, time to make your wish but remember, you can't tell anyone!"

You were so bright and outgoing, Hongjoong envied you but also quietly was thankful how you tickled this out of him again. Even before his breakup, he had been so busy struggling with work and expectations, when did he act so carefree for the last time?

"Working on the wish," he whispered and closed his eyes.

His wish for life never changed: be happy, together with people who truly loved and cherished him and he'd do the same for them.

He winced when he felt your cool hand reaching out, squeezing him and his head turned around, the beret slipped from his hair as your gazes locked. There was another moment of hesitation but you rolled onto your side, your eyes saying what words did not manage but they did not need to as you slowly closed them. Hongjoong's hand was placed on your cheek and you met in the middle into a tender kiss.

It was nothing breathtaking like in the movies, much more a kiss between students who never kissed before but yet, were so lost in the moment that they didn't worry. It only lasted for a little before your lips parted: "Guess, my wish already came true just now."

Hongjoong blushed, he wanted to say more but there was a small quacking sound. The two of you sat up immediately.

"Did you hear that?" you whispered. Hongjoong nodded: "Nobody ever comes up here and I come here almost every day since I moved in." You exchanged a few gazes before carefully standing up, following him closely, hiding behind the chimney.

Suddenly, a large figure dressed all in black jumped up like a ninja in a movie. You gasped but Hongjoong just blinked.

"Wooyoung?!"

"Wooyoung?"

"Wooyoung!"

San's figure showed up right behind his best friend, who was tugging on his jacket, clearly catching his breath. "I told you not to do this!" The younger man was just grinning: "But I had to make sure I left an impression!"

You chuckled as Hongjoong pointed to you that it was okay.

"I take it those are your friends?"

The word made Hongjoong blink. He saw these two idiots almost on a daily base now, he talked to them and while he never shared any personal details, they never treated him like other customers or a stranger.

He really did a great job on distancing, didn't he? Considering he claimed to have nobody but just made friends without realizing it.

"Something like that," Hongjoong said with a quick smile but Wooyoung already pulled him closer, pressing his cheek against his. "Sh, he is just shy! We are the best buddies!"

Hongjoong yelped and now was sparring with Wooyoung while San rubbed a hand over the back of his neck: "Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt your date. Wooyoung has a hard time keeping his curiosity in check."

You hummed, knowing Hongjoong didn't hear it. Maybe it was for the better.

"That's okay. Actually, that's what I like about him. He's chaotic, just like me."

You clasped your hands together, cheering. "So Wooyoung! We got some food left, are you hungry?"

The younger stopped, grinning: "Always!"

Hongjoong groaned when he was woken up by loud noises coming from the staircase. He rolled onto his side, face lit up by his phone screen. It wasn't even seven but for some reason, it seemed neighbors decided to make a fuss. There was screaming, he was sure about that.

He grabbed a pair of sneakers, not caring too much about all else and decided to have a look because it seemed a little too loud considering you and an elderly woman lived the floor underneath.

The moment he recognized your voice, Hongjoong stopped all logical thinking, he took two stairs at once to face a very upstyled woman around his age. Expensive brands and overdone makeup, there was an envelope open, torn paper on the ground, and you were all in tears.

"What's going on?!" Hongjoong rushed to your side but you barely seemed to recognize him.

"How did you even find out where I live?! I won't sign this just go!" you yelled and it seemed to make the woman just more angry.

"___, stop being so stubborn! Just sign the damn rights! You are not part of the team anymore, you have no use for the brand name! Just sign it and we never have to meet again!"

By now, more neighbors had come and the least Hongjoong wanted for you was to deal with the police.

"Hey, get in. I will take care of it," he whispered to you, both of his hands on your cheeks to force you to look at him through teary eyes. It was when you finally realized you weren't alone, you swallowed hard, nodded but carefully withdrew. When the woman tried to get in, Hongjoong pushed her back.

"If you do not leave now, we will call the police! If you have any needs, use a lawyer!" he remembered how his mother watched those shows when he was little, they always just yelled about lawyers.

"Who are you? Loverboy? God, how can one person fall so low? Living in this shithole and now this?" she hissed, spitting on the ground before leaving. Hongjoong waited to ensure she'd not get back up before he slipped inside, closing your door.

You had curled up on your bed and he was a little overwhelmed but it did not matter. Hongjoong called out your name gently as he sat down on the edge of the bed, wanting to make sure you knew he was there, maybe his way of asking for permission.

When you did not move, he curled his arms around you to pull you tight like back on the rooftop, hand gently patting over your back. He wasn't going to tell you it would be okay or ask you to stop crying because he knew that sometimes, mind or body did not want to, couldn't.

All one needed sometimes, was a hug and somebody there with you.

It was hard to say just how much time passed when you turned around slowly. Hongjoong loosened the hug a little without moving back and you looked at him.

"You do not have to tell me anything," he assured in his soft voice but you shook your head slowly. "I want to... it just... it's embarrassing."

This time, it was he who shook his head: "Nothing that makes you feel sad ever is embarrassing, ___. Your feelings matter, you know?"

He was relieved to see it brought a little smile to your lips.

"You know, that also is true for you. If you are sad... it's okay. I understand it. Please don't feel like you have to hide it."

So you did look right through him after all: "You got me there... It is hard to admit weakness... I guess, for me at least. I was hurt by the people I cared for the most. Now, it is hard, like how to let them in again, how to trust?"

Your fingers gently reached out, brushing over his cheeks and he held still like if he moved, you might vanish into thin air.

"I get that," you admitted. "You see, that woman used to be my best friend since middle school. A few years ago, we started to stream together for fun. I made good money with my job, so I bought the equipment and I really was okay playing more of a background role. We worked on it together but she was the star, I didn't mind she also streamed a lot without me but then, numbers rose and there was a sponsorship she did not tell me about. One day, I got home from my office, and all the equipment was gone, together with my best friend. I was locked out of the accounts, the savings I kept at home for emergencies were stolen, and well. She spread some nasty rumors about how I was jealous and things got ugly... So I moved here. It is hard, your best friend is usually the person you rely on for comfort when something awful happens but now, there was nobody and I am stupid, the type of person that fully believes in a friendship."

It was sad, to think how money always ruined everything, love and friendship. Hongjoong watched you as you spoke, going more into the details and he made sure to listen well, to show you that he didn't only do it because you two kissed or because of you crying. He really cared about you and wanted to understand you better so he did not have to fear again, that imagine of you alone on the fire escape.

"There is nothing awkward or embarrassing about your feelings. You trusted and lost her. You tried your best to start over, leave it behind but she cannot let it be for selfish reasons," Hongjoong concluded and you finally relaxed.

"Thank you for listening.... that really helped," you whispered. "I... if you ever want to..."

Hongjoong wondered for a moment. Did he want to talk about it?

Yes, but...

"Honestly, I am not sure if I am really ready yet to talk about it but one day... I will," he promised and placed a gentle kiss on top of your head.

"How about I make you some tea?" he offered with a smile as you looked at him, you nodded and you two slowly sat up. Hongjoong was very determined to wrap you properly in a blanket burrito, ruffling your hair gently before moving over to your kitchen. He could feel your eyes on him as he moved but he did not mind it.

A few minutes later, he handed you a cup of yasmin tea and you hugged it carefully, sipping on it.

"You make a very cute blanket cat," he teased, hoping to cheer you up. "Maybe one day, you will let me draw you like that." And finally, there it was, your beautiful laugh. "I will think about it."

Hongjoong sat down by your side, he turned on the TV and you relaxed against him as you watched a random show just to get your mind off and sipped your tea. It wasn't until there was a more gentle knock on the door and the familiar voice of the elderly lady.

"I will get it," he offered and rushed over. She seemed a little concerned: "My, so much noise in the early morning. Such an unpleasant woman. I wanted to see if everything is alright but I also noted, that your door is wide open Mister Kim."

His cheeks flushed as he realized, he rushed out earlier without bringing his key or closing it. "OH! Yes, thank you so much," he bowed and it made her chuckle: "You are very welcome. Fear not, Mister Corner on the second floor left his dog outside, I have no doubt nobody will dare to make the way upstairs today."

As she wiggled away, Hongjoong turned around but you smiled. "It is okay, I am feeling better. Thank you for looking out for me. I will see you later?"

He did not want to go but it likely was a good idea to give you some space. "Count on it."

As much as he hated it, he needed to put some time into work if he intended to finish everything within the deadline but now that Hongjoong had a reason to work extra hard, he was doing it no problem and within a few hours, he finished a few sketches. Those would do for angry CEO and he could dedicate his evening toward you.

He was taking his phone from his charger when he noticed a small notification. Hongjoong turned off such with the exception of receiving one when somebody new followed him. To his surprise, the name of his latest follower was 'Hwastar' and there was only one person who would use something like that.

It took him a few minutes to remember his password, he ignored all other messages other than the one of the follow and he followed back. Within a few minutes, a message popped up. It really was Seonghwa and to Hongjoong's surprise, the man was in New York, asking to meet.

When Hongjoong knocked on your door and you did not answer, he guessed you were asleep and he decided to go for it. Seonghwa had picked a cute coffee shop, something that suited him. While he looked the same, he was yet a whole new man. Tall, well-built and stylish, the long hair suited him well but the smile was as gentle as when they saw each other for the last time. "Joong! It's been too long!"

There was a quick hug before they sat down, he was sipping on a drink. "You look good, Joongie!" Hongjoong glanced down, he barely could say he wore anything unique but then, he just really had gotten used to his style. "Not like you who seems to go to fashion week."

Seonghwa blushed a little before waving his hand: "Nah, I work for a small publisher." Hongjoong wasn't surprised to hear it. Seonghwa always loved to read and was great with all kinds of people "That's great! I am glad it worked out for you."

His old friend smiled before to the younger's surprise, he pulled out one of the children's books Hongjoong worked on as part of a team.

"I only recently moved to New York because we moved our office here. When I walked through some bookstores, I came across this one. I am glad to see you still do art... When I went home last time, my mom said you left and nobody really knew where you went."

So he did hear about it, huh?

"Breakups can be ugly, I guess I wanted to start over." Hongjoong finally said what he had not to anyone until now. It was hard to say it out loud because that way, there was no chance to deny it, to hide the truth about the why, and how it had come to this. Maybe because there was this old trust he had for Hwa that made him say it out loud now but it was impossible to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Seonghwa had an understanding, sad smile on his lips: "I know you loved her. You two already dated back then... but Hongjoong... I am also proud you are moving on, and didn't stop."

It really was difficult to let negative emotions take over when Seonghwa looked at him like that. He pulled out his business card: "I know you are currently working with a bigger name but we actually finally expanded to books that require some illustrations and my boss would love to meet you. Why don't you think about it? The offer is there, no expiration, whenever you want."

Hongjoong accepted it with surprise, looking at the cursive font he was sure was inspired by his friend's handwriting.

How did things finally fall in line? Was it because he was ready to let them?

Hongjoong looked up and smiled: "I will definitely call."

When he came back, it had gotten dark. As Hongjoong took the fire escape up, your window was wide open and you sat on the stairs, the wind playing with your hair and you seemed lost in thoughts but the moment you saw him, the way you smiled, he knew.

His heart finally exhaled, it held its breath for so long, scared of what would happen if it let go of all that was and no longer would be.

Now it knew it was okay. Breathing would hurt for a little while but eventually, the beat would fall back in line as it should. Painful memories remained but it would keep beating.

The wisdom wasn't wrong, life went on.

Hongjoong smiled back as you made space for him and he got comfortable, his gaze wandering over the cityscape of New York or the bit you managed to get from here.

"it really is ugly, isn't it? I mean, all we get to see are the lower side of those giant ass buildings;" you joked and he laughed, shaking his head: "No, we do not but we have the rooftop. Not that I mind this."

He closed his eyes: "It really is a great escape, I would say, we need those stairs everywhere in the world."

You hummed: "I agree. Just that we need little stickers on the windows, one that tells us that if the alarm won't go off and the windows open, just throw a shoe or something."

Hongjoong smiled innocently at you: "But how do I get my shoe back then?"

You grinned: "Well, by knocking, of course. Then, I have an excuse to invite you in."

You did not need an excuse, he gladly would come and visit you. As you looked at each other, a certain silence spread, and Hongjoong played with one of his bracelets.

"I got my heart broken very badly," he admitted. "I guess, I was blind? Maybe I just was so in a habit of having it that way, that I did not think it could change? It hurt a lot and I ran like a coward but now, maybe this is just how I am. Sometimes, I do stupid things that turn out to be good but I am also blind like needing forever to realize how I made friends just by being myself or that I can feel again."

As he looked at you, turning around, you suddenly hugged him tightly. "It is okay, you do not have to tell me everything, ever or just take your time. I will be here, whenever you are ready," you whispered and Hongjoong was surprised.

Argh, he hated how tears started to dwell up at the corners of his eyes. This was all he wanted for so long but now, here you were and you were so much more than comfort, the promise of a future where his heart was beating not only to live but love. Again.

"I really like you," he admitted, voice soft and husky. "I like you too," you repeated and for a moment, you just held each other.

Hongjoong looked at you before he swallowed: "I'd like to see where it goes... but I might... need a bit of time before I am ready to go all ..."

You placed an index finger on his lips and smiled: "It's okay. We have all the time in the world. Summer is not over yet, many nights on the rooftops. Then, when autumn comes, we go chase leaves in Central Park, and in Winter, we can wear big fluffy coats and share a scarf. Then Spring, we plant flowers on the rooftop, and when Summer comes again. We will be here, together. Close or as friends, I will be here, count on it."

You really were so dreamy, it made sense now why your room looked the way it did.

And he loved how you were bold and silly and this.

"I cannot promise not to be spontaneous, and I might would like us to be more than friends," he admitted and you smirked: "I love random and wild."

You squeezed his hand and Hongjoong was looking forward to all seasons. In this lonely city full of people but now he had friends, old and new but most of all, you.

As you leaned in to kiss him, your alarm was going off. Hongjoong groaned but you tugged on his jacket.

"Sh, you can throw shampoo at it later," you promised and Hongjoong laughed.

"This alarm, it drives me insane," he whispered, your lips so close.

"So do you."

In the best way possible.

[libertyybellls]

ONE FOR THE ROAD !

pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader

summary; you’ve been finnicks since the moment you met, after your interviews you break- who can fix you better than him?

contains; ANGST/FLUFF, two idiots in love, typical thg themes- i’m sure by now you know what i mean ;(

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

finnick watched you from behind the curtains of the stage, somewhere in a hallway with your face on the screen infront of you. watching you with your hand over your heart as you gushed about your faux-greatfulness to the capitol.

he watched your face drop as all of your kills were flashed onto the large screen, he watched the squint in your eyes, the way your brows furrowed, the way your jaw clenched. he pleaded now to you, through his mind- bury the hatchet sweet girl, don’t fall apart, you’ve made it this far.

his fingers were crossed his foot tapping anxiously until the milisecond your interview concluded.

your stylists crowded around the hallway, waiting to applaud you on how good you were- but finnick knew you better than anyone, he kept his distance.

your presence came with fury, tearing off your ridiculous headpiece- it falling to the ground in pieces with seconds. each step you took seemed to get angrier. your stylists behind you with a hand on their chest. something their dull minds couldn’t understand, how could she be so angry when it’s over with?

when you turned the corner and he saw you, when he saw the darkness in your eyes clouding your every move. desperate to be alone, to rot away- he twisted you around and into him.

you fought against him- struggling to release yourself from his hold. finnick only pulled you closer to him, with a tighter hold. “it’s okay, you’re okay.” he hushed into your ear, your arms softened. they found a home around his neck while your head hid away in his neck.

“no,” you only shook your head. how could he lie to you when you’re like this? “it’s not, it’s not fucking fair.”

he understand, if anyone- he understands. “i’m still me, you’re still you.” he said that and he wanted to believe it, wanted it to be true. thought maybe the cards would fall into the right lineup for him- to all be in his favor, but when had they ever been?

“no im not.” you didn’t believe him, and he couldn’t believe himself- maybe the two of you could build a city of lies in your heads.

you wanted to tell him what a monster you were, how awful you were-but he had to have already known .

he’d watched you be the most deceitful creature in the game, the most twisted, two fast creature. you’re sure he knew.

“yes you are princess, i know it’s bad but you’re safe, you’re with me.” finnicks voice always had this perfect serene pitch, even when you didn’t mean to- in a world of voices it would be the only thing you could focus on.

the tears cascaded down your face, black mascara indefinetly staining his white sweater.

he would never admit this out loud, it almost ate him up inside thinking it- and he would beat himself up for it for as long as he lived, but you were not the same- you never would be. but he could love you in any way you came.

you weren’t the same girl who would collect the seashells that reminded you of him and run up to his door with a basket full of them- you would never be the same girl who’s eyes would sparkle at the smallest conversation between you, him, and mags in her living room on a summer night. the same girl who’d laugh so hard that your stomach ached and you’d slap his shoulder.

you weren’t the same girl. and he knew that the moment your knife went for your allies neck, the way you screamed when the last cannon went off.

and you’d never say it, but you thought of him. every time someone would charge at you- desperate to hear the cannon. you thought about how all you needed to do was run home into his arm and scream at him for not letting you love him sooner.

and now, now he needed to think of you. think of your loving touch- your pure heart and the sound of your overjoyed laugh when he’d hug you too tight- or catch you off guard with a joke. he needed to think about brining all this anger- this hate, this disgust and guilt out of you- for he’d rather take it all on himself than watch it eat at you.

so he would hold you close when you woke up screaming, bathe you when your body was too tired to hold itself up, whisper sweetheart nothings into your ear as he cradles you back into a deep slumber.

-

a/n; very short, just wanted to get a lil angst out for u guys ;))

masterlist

INBOX OPEN!!

[starlessea2]

The Dawn Watch (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: As dawn breaks the morning after the tiefling party, you find a vampire basking in the sun. In the daylight, all of his pretty words start to unravel. (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N After a week of feverishly playing (and completing) BG3, here's my first Astarion writing. Part 1/3 of a WIP mini-series called the Sunlight Chronicles.

Masterlist

Sunlight was warm on your eyes. It coaxed them open and made you blink: once hard, twice fast. Your lids were heavy, yet you could hardly remember closing them in the first place. Neither could you recall dozing off in a pile of leaves. 

As you pressed yourself into the ground, the forest floor rustled beneath you. A cacophony of dried foliage and bark, made somewhat comfortable by the mossy overgrowth. It took you a moment to understand your surroundings.

The tiefling party had bustled on into the early hours. It was the first reprieve you’d allowed yourself since being plucked from Baldur’s Gate and thrust into this new adventure. But, perhaps you had overindulged… 

There was a fire in your belly still, laden with mead and lingerings of lust, and it had led you here: stark-naked and alone on the outskirts of camp. 

A chuckle sounded behind you. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d drank you dry.”

You sprung up to your elbows. Not alone, you suddenly remembered.

Your head whipped around, settling on the figure bathed in the light of the low sun. “But alas, you were just making good on that beauty sleep. Morning, pet.” 

Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you found Astarion. He was radiant. Rays of dawn had snuck through the trees, dappling between branches onto his pale skin. And his hair... Caught in that glow, it looked like leftover starlight. 

The only thing letting him down was his smile. It was utterly charming, as always. But it was more obvious in the daytime; that smile was well-practised.

“Umm, good morning,” you eventually croaked back.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, too nervous to wander over his body. He noticed, of course, and so he paced before you—a small strut, hands on his hips to invite your appraisal.

You looked away. Even in the warmth of the sun, you could feel the man’s contribution to your cheeks. It incited a laugh from him. 

“Oh now don’t pretend to be coy, my sweet,” he said. “Not when there was hardly any of that last night.”

You turned your head; any liquid courage you’d gotten from the party had long since worn off. But now sober, Astarion made your heart ache. His falsity was clear as day. He uttered the words you so desperately wanted to hear, but delivered them on the back of a deceitful voice. 

A sigh escaped you; perhaps the only time he hadn’t lied was when he’d called you naive. 

Awaiting your reply, Astarion became indignant. "What?" he asked. "Disappointed at the lack of morning cuddle? If you ask nicely, perhaps I’ll come back to join—”

"No," you said. "I just..." His eyes watched your every move, red and calculating. You took a moment to collect yourself. "I'm surprised that you stayed at all," you admitted. "Didn't take you for the type." 

His hand fell over his chest. "Oh, how you wound me! I try to do the gentlemanly thing, and yet you accuse me and look at me like that."

You cocked a brow. "Like what?"

Astarion let out an exasperated sigh. "Let’s just say it’s easier to know what you're thinking when your eyes are shut.” He made a face, mortifyingly reminiscent of one you’d likely pulled the night before, and your mouth fell ajar.

If you’d been wearing shoes, you would have hurled one at him. But embarassed and barefoot, you instead dug your palms into the soil, more than ready to depart.

Astarion was roused into action. "Oh come on, my dear," he said softly. He sunk to the floor beside you, coaxing you to stay. "All in good fun."

You deliberated for a moment, watching him in your peripheral. There was a smile on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a pang of hurt made itself known. You quickly squashed it down, hoping Astarion had not noticed it in his.

Whatever feelings had bubbled over last night were absent this morning, you could just tell. Perhaps he no longer found you interesting now that he'd conquered you. Maybe he'd pursued you just to break your heart, or gods forbid, he'd been put off after sleeping with you—

“It’s just so warm.”

The words left Astarion, quiet as a whisper. But then his eyes widened and his lips formed a taut line—as though they'd never intended to let anything escape at all.

"What?" you started. But with one small glance at the man, you realised; he was talking about the sun.

For a moment, you watched him, basking in the glow like there was no place he'd rather be. You hummed in agreement. “I guess it’s something we all take for granted here.” 

He nodded. It became obvious then; he hadn’t stayed for you, but for the sunrise.  

“Astarion, I–”

He snapped his head. The look in his eyes cautioned you—told you the two of you weren’t that close. But something behind that almost dared you to try.

Against your better judgement, you proceeded. “You might have already guessed, but I’m no early riser." A chuckle instinctively followed. “I know Lae’zel told us not to question the shifts she allocated, but..." you paused, "who wants to take watch at the crack of dawn? Certainly not me.”

It was silent for a moment—save for the soft lilting of birds and the occasional breeze. Yet even then, the morning dawned so quiet that your breaths felt loud.

It took a few seconds for Astarion to reanimate, but when he did, it was with a smile. “Oh, my dear... If you’re struggling that badly, you could’ve just said." He sat up, readjusting to meet you straight on. “It’s not a bother swapping with you—if the night shift is more to your taste.”

Your heart felt warm. Truthfully, you liked the dawn watch, but you had a feeling it would be better appreciated by him. “That would be wonderful, thank you."

You had an inkling that Astarion recognised your ploy, but but if did, he wasn’t making a show of it. His hand wove its way into yours, and pressed it into forest bed. “My pleasure," he said. Then he leaned forward with a grin.

You anticipated a kiss, but he stopped before your neck, tracing the bloody bruise he'd bestowed with his lips—worrying last night's sore between his teeth. “It's the least I can do...”

As he mumbled against your skin, a shiver sparked through your shared connection.

“I’ll be more gentle next time." His breath fanned hot over your ear. “Both ways.”

You let out a gasp. "It's okay, we don’t have to—” The words ejected from you, all flustered and not at all how you pictured them.

Astarion offered a smirk in return, but it was accompanied by an expression you now recognised.

He thought you naive.

“Precious,” he said beneath his breath, before returning your crumpled dress to you. “Now come. We best not keep the others waiting.”

And so you followed his lead and quickly dressed: smoothing your hair and attempting to rid your cheeks of their flush.

If anyone asked, you'd say you were sun-kissed.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ I AM THE KNIFE WHICH WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN ( part ii. )

IT IS YOUR PART TO KILL ME , MINE TO DIE WITHOUT FLINCHING.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ alhaitham ･ cyno ･ scaramouche. genshin impact. cw : violence ( non-graphic/descriptive ). angst. everyone is fighting, sometimes it's a little sad, sometimes there are 'but we could have been something' vibes ٩(ఠ益ఠ)۶. title cr : heiner müller. quote cr : epictetus. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network ଓ.°・・・ part i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"you've caused more trouble than you're worth. what did you expect would happen?"

a moment's notice : the swift approach of the acting grand sage, a collision of bodies, and the failed escape from his grasp as you both come crashing to the floor, books and documents scattered about as result of havoc. the back of your head makes contact with cold tile and you lose your senses ; it is suddenly hard to breathe, your chest rising and falling with vicious violence, and you are not sure if it is from the fall or the way alhaitham presses his weight on top of you in means of apprehension.

you blink once, twice, eyes wide and veins surging with an adrenaline unfathomable, let out a breathy laugh at his slipping facade of apathy. there's an unfamiliar rage, a quiet anger, one you almost desire to see more of yet despise all the same.

of course he knew all along. who would he be, after all, if he could not detect a spy sent to infiltrate the akademiya and bring turmoil to sumeru itself?

this is not a betrayal, alhaitham thinks, but there is a cruel brutality that makes itself known in the way the knife digs into your flesh. this is not a betrayal, he reminds himself, because betrayals are meant to hurt.

you expect him to rid of you with ease, press the blade just a little bit further. you expect this painful sensation, but you do not expect that strange flicker of reluctance -- of something else that you do not want to deem as grief, because that would mean something you do not wish to consider. but it disappears as quickly as it appeared, gone, replaced with utmost desolation.

"go ahead." the words are hard to speak, but you smile nonetheless, watch his humanity seep through everything he has ever preserved in the act of living. "one of us has to survive this, don't we, alhaitham?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ cyno

judgement day is never meant to be a beautiful thing, the granting of punishment a harsh and merciless being. cyno wears the role of the general proudly, a gentle heart turned stone when the trials of treachery fall before him. he does not bear the responsibility of deeming another as deceitful, leaving the akademiya to such matters, but this --

there is a ringing in his ears, a desperate beating in his chest, frightened.

he does not know what to make of this.

you stand in front of him, disheveled, crimson smeared across your skin. there is an uncertainty that hides beneath the sanguine as trembling hands rise in sign of surrender, muscles aching in protest from endless battles against cyno.

you do not know if any of this is right. you do not know if you are right or wrong; you do not know if he is right or wrong. you wish it could be that easy, see the world of knowledge in black and white.

you are unsure what to make of this. you are unsure if you're regretful, if you're sorry for your actions, but you know that you are sorry to him. you don't dare to speak of such apologies, know they have no place in the long friendship you have shattered and broken and ripped apart.

you have a job to do and so does he. how you wish you could have done it together, just as you did in the golden days where you were young and naive, oblivious to opposing ideals in a world where the worst was not the breaking of one's heart and soul.

"please tell me, general," and somehow, it stings to hear that and not his name and the tenderness that accompanies it, "what judgement will you pass upon me?"

there is a weariness in your voice, an admittance of defeat, because you do not think you can endure any more of this, and maybe you do not regret this, the surrendering of yourself for the sake of another. no, you will not regret this, you think, so you swallow hard, erase the fear in your heart in preparation for the end.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

"dearest balladeer," the title slips from your tongue, drips with venom and all things hideous, "you've betrayed us, haven't you? run off with your little treasure, gone against tsaritsa and everything you've ever known. wouldn't it be a better fate, granting your loyalties to her rather than falling by my hand?"

you tilt your head, observe the sword you wield with childlike innocence. in the reflection there is your delighted gaze, a semblance of the gnawing insanity the delusion has given as blessing.

"betrayal?" there is a hatred born from the depths of despair that resides in sharp tones, brings forewarning of the suffering you will endure, "what do you know of betrayal?"

you force a smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes and he notices this. how dangerous and daring his words are ; your hand aches, grasp on the weapon so tight that you almost feel it could shatter in all your fury. you do not think about the past or who you once were before you took on the glory of a harbinger.

no, you do not think about the past or who you once were because it matters not, yet there is something so damaging in his response that the memories surface if just for a moment -- just a moment, you think, but already that is too much.

it doesn't matter. you do not come in warning nor to retrieve a harbinger lost in his own greed. your intentions were to kill him from the start, bring forth the finale to one deserving of it all.

"you never fail to impress me, scaramouche." your words are filled with amusement, but there is nothing on your visage, a terrifying blankness : no anger, no lingering madness. "not only are you selfish in your wants, but you are selfish in the desire to be known as the only one who has suffered."

you raise your weapon at him, tilt your head up in gesture that he does the same. you bore of this nonsense.

"come, balladeer. i'll grant you the kindest ending, erase you from an existence you never deserved."

[lilacstro]

pac : what you need to know about this separation/no-contact

ok this was the second most chosen topic. here we go, sincerely hoping it resonates and brings some light. you can use this reading for anyone, just remove the romantic messages if any, though I have tried keeping it as clean as possible.

let me know if it resonated :) leave feedbacks/suggestions <33

decks used: biddy tarot, inquire within oracle, cupid says oracle

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

support me on ko-fi :)

Pile 1

Ok as soon as i started shuffling your pile, my sister started singing "fated trouble" by enhyphen. The first thing I would like to say is, it seems this relationship majorly ended because of internal chaos more than anything else. A stagnant situation. Someone being hung up on something. Cancer, or number 8 might be significant for someone. With 8, I am also willing to say Leo. There is so much fast and constant fear pile 1. So much of it. Were you guys very excited and hopeful about the future? Maybe you thought of getting married, and loving each other forever. I can say even if it was for a brief while, your love was reciprocated. One of the things I am being called to say is, there is a chance this connection matures into something you want, or you will find someone like that. Either ways, its time to give this a stop, I am getting clear messages about this. Let it go, and move forward. I am wondering if some of you feel alone or could be your person feels alone, but I am guessing its you. I feel that someone had to make a decision, a hard one to stay together. Someone needed to take a leap and they did not. There is a lot of inner conflict. Someone might have been in the victim mentality. This person, or you, may receive a lot of messages in your dream. Some of you may even receive flashbacks/dreams about all the good times you have spent together. I see both of you miss/missed each other while in this separation. An advice for you would be, to listen to your intuition. To yourself. I feel you have somehow caged yourself. Remove the blindfolds, its time to move forward and ahead. If you are overwhelmed with your emotions, know that its okay to feel what you are feeling pile 1. Giving me vibes of the one that got away.

If you resonated with anything I said, one of the reasons you might not want to go back, is that, you arent a hard choice to make. If this was not a life ending situation, someone being wishy washy about you is not what you deserve, You dont need to know how it WAS, you need to see, how it IS. Its surprising because tho I only see things being caught up here, and no forms of deceit, I am still being told now is not the time, now is the time to let go. And if your love is reciprocated, it will get the happy ending it deserves and I can promise that. Your situation wont end up with both of you having love but parting ways. IF your love is reciprocated pile 1, it will come back. But let it go for now. Let this rest. The lyrics from shy martin's songs are coming up:

"Do you remember how tangled we got in our feelings? Caught up on the small things And I know I thought that pain's part of love But I think I broke you, though I didn't mean to

But are you happy looking back at us When you met me? Would you go back and tell yourself to leave it Knowing what we know? Or are you happy that we happened in our 20s? So you know what you want isn't with me Would you go back and tell yourself to leave it Knowing how it goes? Or are you happy that we happened? Ah" Infact this song could describe your situation. I am listing it here, you might wanna hear it.

One advice I am strongly getting for you, is to go near water, if you can go to lakes, swimming pools, ponds and dip your feet in water, swim if you can and release energy. If you dont have access to watery places, stand in shower and do some standing meditation there. Water your plants. Collect seashells on oceans if possible.

I am promise you, you will be fine. Its time to start fresh and clear pile 1. I promise you it gets better. You will be fine, you will thrive. Dont make a mental prison, dont reflect about this over and over and think about what-ifs. Get up pile 1, i know you love them, but love yourself more. You need to move forward, its just one life, And if this person is supposed to be in it, they will be back. Your life is yours, they are just a part of it.

Advice:

Its ok to feel feelings Listen quietly yes, you can I have support Release.

Pile 2

Dissatisfaction. This is what that comes to my mind. Unlike the previous pile, this is ummm, weird. Lets get into this, One of the things I am getting is, you might be dealing with someone older. Money seems involved too. Did you take a break with this person? and come back? or something like that? Despite of whatever it is, this person seems immature, while you are much emotionally mature. Did you lose some money with this person? Its also giving me that their family had some issues with you, one of them possibly could be financial status. Since this is a general reading, multiple things come up, and i like listing all of them, since I dont know who this is for.

It could very much be that things changed overnight with this person, and what seemed a stable ground suddenly shook and went down all together. It gives me this vibe, that this person wanted to chose. They were not satisfied with what they had. I even feel you are dissatisfied with the overall outcome of this situation. I see someone walking away, most likely in disdain and despair. Strange how i am getting a song in my head for each pile until now, I am getting the lyrics from the song "are you bored yet?" by clario "Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie?"

this song might make sense to you, so I am listing it here

I was refraining from saying this but, gives me lowkey playboy vibes. Someone who just wants fun. Take it if it resonates. I am also getting its very much possible one of you was moving away, probably even overseas that could have caused some problems. Random but, did this person like being praised? seems so. This person seems so nonchalant and casual to me? Listen Pile 2, if you resonate with this so far, I am getting that this person will get their karma and they would see that the grass isn't greener on the other side, and then actually come back sooner or later. Giving me the lyrics "I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expires, and you'd be standing in my front porch light, I know you'd come back to me"

Cardigan by Taylor Swift might resonate. I swear this person could have tried to deceive you with sweet words in the past or will do that in the future. I cannot tell you what to do with this pile 2, you can chose, but I would suggest you refrain from entertaining this person.

As of the advice, I am getting going out into the nature, and connecting with your inner child. Did you like catching butterflies when you were young pile2? what i mean to say is, tap in with your inner child, make them happy and do things you love. Start enjoying small little things around you. Maybe do gardening, plant a little seed or maybe buy one small plant for your room. Water it daily and love and care for it like you would for yourself. Connect yourself to earth, maybe sit on the ground and meditate, hug trees, and walk barefoot on grass. Feel it under your feet. Go on cycling, laugh a lot. All is good. Although I usually say, that you will transform and change, I feel called to say, you are already beautiful and the lessons you learnt here dont seem to change much, you already are, everything pile 2. If this situation made you doubt your worth or compare yourself to others, just dont. You are wonderful and deserve the best love.

Advice: Look into the nature for healing You already, are Celebrate little things Plant a seed and wait Have curiosity, maybe start learning something new/always wanted to Be patient, love always wins :)

Pile 3

Ok, so I feel this person could be very confused pile 3, could be in the past a lot. It could be that you have experienced multiple cycles with this person. A woman was coming through, maybe the person you are asking about is a woman, or maybe some woman was involved. I am also getting you could have had multiple fresh starts with this person, You could have met them in school, colleges, or through your mother. Number 4 might be significant to someone. I am also feeling some of you made this decision to walk away gracefully, probably on advice of your closed loved ones. summer feels important.

This seems to have been built on a shaky foundation pile 3. I keep on accidentally typing pile 2, you may wanna check pile 2 out. Anyways, was this person someone who you knew from a while? maybe childhood? I feel there has been arguments with this person, This person could have ran away as well, and how it happens everytime smh, they think about this a lot and just think, hmmm what should i do now? what should I do next. They could very well be stalking your social media if you have one. Looking at old pics or wanting to see you somehow. It CLEARLY appears to me, this person was very questionable, you dont seem the first priority to them. They were/are obsessed with something, either past or money. Could even be they were hiding something from you. This person looks lonely in some ways, maybe they lost you over this obsession for something else. And whats worse is, they still seem to be thinking, to be able to make a choice, so much immature energy pile 3. This person seems so much in their head over what they even want. So much thinking, you are an easy choice pile 3, you dont deserve this much contemplation just to be chosen and loved. They want to bring "justice" and the right solution to the situation. I wonder how long this will take since this person is definitely in their feels, and looking over the past and what went down.

They seem to just, sit and think endlessly and proceed to do nothing. My advice, just don't wait for someone like this. I am getting this feeling this person has confused themselves about you to a point where it seems like false love. It seems some weird guilt tripped thing rather than wanting to make things right out of genuine love. Regardless, this person is very restless and doesn't seem to have any satisfaction with what they have.

My advice for you, is to get out of your head about this situation. Also, if you saw this person as a competition, don't. If you see/ hear them doing well, dont trust everything you hear. Infact, if you hear anything about this person that should not concern you anymore, dont pay attention. Move at your pace, people who start running wayy before the marathon, exhaust themselves midway. I have learnt and seen this in my life. What i mean is, be at your own pace and you will win pile 3. If you have lost faith, so be it, but emerge out of this situation. I understand you could have connected to this person, but dont take this seriously anymore. Get out of your own way pile 3. I am also getting a message of creating to-do lists for your day. Consider praying or writing in your journal if you wish to manifest something. You dont deserve deceit pile 3.

Advice: Its not a competition Emerge, dont lose faith Dont take it all too seriously Get out of your own way Ask and ye shall receive dont trust everything you hear

[lalunanymph]

BLACKMAIL KISS — h. ran

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a single night of rebellion against your husband, the mayor of Tokyo, in an underground Roppongi club, traps you right in Haitani Ran's web of blackmail and deceit—where every move you make could potentially be your last one.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a bonten!haitani ran miniseries inspired by hametsu no itte

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bonten timeline, fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is feminine coded (wears dresses, heels, makeup), heavy tones of cheating/infidelity, DARK CONTENT, blackmail, political drama, public play, b/d/s/m, collaring, b/allgags, d/addy kink, n/ipple play, s/quirting untouched, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol & drugs, e/dging training, tease and denial, o/rgasm control, body writing, d/ildos, throat training, petnames (princess, good girl, whore, slut), b/reathplay, s/pit kink, coercion, mentions of pregnancy, non-con recording, HEAVY TOPICS PROCEED WITH CAUTION

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bittersweet blackmail with this playlist

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── masterlist

#2: the way you bend, the way you break

“Have you ever been tied up before?” was how Ran Haitani greeted you the moment you stepped into the back of his Lamborghini. 

His hired driver in the front was trained to tune out his superior’s words, focused on beating Roppongi’s 7PM traffic. 

There was a red light blinking on the car’s dashboard, and you barely paid it any attention, too focused on restraining yourself from reaching over to choke Ran for asking such a perverted question. 

He eyed you up and down in your billowing black trench coat and shades, a flimsy attempt to avoid the public’s recognition. But, you didn’t have to worry. Ran had made you walk down an empty promenade about 200 metres away where he was waiting for you, careful to idle away from Mayor Tsunake’s residence.

Your husband had no idea where you were headed to or who you were meeting tonight, only aware that you had a dinner to attend with another trophy wife. Without warning, Makko’s expression swam in your mind, your husband’s greying hair and deep wrinkles a contrast from this younger man before you with his bleached-lilac locks and fitted expensive suits.

As if he could sense your ruminations, Ran changed his tune. “Has your husband noticed anything unusual lately?” 

You shook your head mutely. Last night flashed in your thoughts—Makko’s bigger body hovering over yours, thrusting deep into your slick pussy as you fought off the sensitivity from days of edging and denied releases. His thickset brows had knitted together, mouth falling open in a small ‘O’. 

You were so lewd tonight, Makko had murmured, smoothing his palm down your belly after he was done fucking you, looking both bewildered and delighted. Your expressions, your sounds… it’s like you’ve never been touched before. 

Swallowing hard, you peeled your eyes to your clenched fists on your lap. “Makko said I’ve been… more expressive lately.” 

Ran slid one hand down your thigh, feeling the soft satin of your coat give way to his touch. You hardly reacted when he dragged the hem up, a smirk spreading across his handsome face when your bare thigh appeared like a fleshy delight. He didn’t have to hike up your coat’s skirt further to chance a peek at the dark triangle between your legs; his attention immediately on the plush fat of your thighs chafing together. Satisfied that you had followed his orders, Ran straightened the hem back in place, giving you back your modesty with a curt nod. The blood roared in your ears, and you almost didn’t hear his soft, prodding question. 

“More expressive?” He reached for a cigarette in his breast pocket, lighting it up. Your nose crinkled from the smell of cheap tobacco, but you didn’t reprimand him for smoking in close proximity to you. Noticing your expression, Ran chuckled. “You don’t like the smoke, huh? Too low class for you?”

Just because you were being blackmailed by a Bonten executive didn’t mean you had to play nice with him or protect his ego. 

“Cigarettes are filthy. I hate smokers.” 

Ran hummed, absorbing your dignified profile. Your head was tilted at a haughty angle, your gaze resolutely on the road ahead; pretending to not pay attention to the man beside you. But, your efforts were futile—his citrus cologne and musk pierced your nose, you felt his body heat radiating even from your end of the seat. His steady breathing filled the silence and you tasted his cigarette smoke on the tip of your tongue.

“Fair,” he snorted, flicking the excess ash onto the car floor. “But, you still haven’t answered me about what your husband meant. I hate asking questions twice, Y/N.” 

You trailed your eyes back down to your hands set primly on your lap. “I… felt repressed. Before.” For a woman who spent most of her marriage doing what her husband wanted in bed, it felt strange to voice out your innermost desires. “But now, I’m more open. I feel him better. I—” you struggled to elucidate your words. “—it’s almost as if I’m a new person he’s… sleeping with.” 

Ran inhaled the cigarette down to its nub, putting it out against the car door and flicking the butt down to the floor. “You’re more free with him is what I understand. You’re more lewd and open for him because of your training. Denial is a strange thing like that—” his hand was back on your thigh, lifting the hem up. You flashed one, quick, panicked glance at the driver who had a prime view of you in the back seat. 

The Bonten executive shook his head. “Dayo is trained to not say a word about my affairs unless he wants a bullet in the back of his head. Isn’t that right, Dayo-kun?” 

“Yes, Sir,” the driver automatically retorted.

To you, Ran dipped his head closer, lips almost brushing your heated earlobe. “It’s okay to be lewd with me here, Y/N.” His hand reached further up your thigh, exposing your bare pussy to the cool, car air. “You don’t have to pretend with me, okay, my slut? Let’s see that pretty naked body. Pictures can’t compare to the real thing.” 

With his hands on you, Ran stroked your thighs, parting your legs and dragging you onto his lap. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth hungrily lapping at yours—it wasn’t a kiss as much as it was an attempt to devour you. His hair was stiff with pomade, but your fingers sank into them, tugging those purple locks with wild fervour. 

A tongue tasting of tobacco and musk plunged past your mouth, running across your teeth, the rim of your lips; licking your YSL lipstick off, sliding back in when you gasped to play with the twitching pink muscle—leaving a plasticky aftertaste on your tastebuds. 

Ran gripped your jaw in his steel grip, moving those intense stamps down your neck. After days of not feeling him, you were incredibly sensitive. 

A-ah mhmh! Your moans reverberated around the car when he sucked a mark onto your pulse point, and against your better judgement, you cradled his face closer to your neck like a mother letting her child feed from her. Ran was greedy indeed, trailing those bruising kisses and nips down your neck. Feverishly hot and large hands pried the panels of your coat aside to show off your collarbones and shoulders. 

The coat was barely hanging off your frame, your thighs wide and exposed, splayed on either side of his generous lap. Ran wasn’t a bulky man per say, but his height added a girth which made you feel dwarfed next to him in comparison. 

Those ring-clad fingers sent chilly jolts that tasted of metal pinches when they roamed down your bare thighs. He touched you everywhere except the place where you were dripping for him the most, continuing to kiss down your neck and between your breasts to tease you. 

“This coat is so thin,” he whispered against your skin. “I could tie a rope harness around you and your nipples would show up underneath this flimsy old thing.” He fingered the thin satin, smirking. “Should we test that theory out? After all, you didn’t answer my first question.”

His first question—?

Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when you felt him shift you aside, reaching underneath his seat to remove a coil of ropes.

“W-wait,” your squeak of protest was quelled by one elegantly groomed brow raising in question. Your mouth clamped shut, and you eyed the red bindings with open trepidation. 

“Remove your coat until your waist. You can keep the rest on.”

You dared not defy him. Ran’s voice was hard and cold—a hint of steel behind the civility. This was a man who had no qualms destroying your life if you let him. Slowly, like you were told a death sentence and were walking to the gallows, you shrugged off your coat, leaving the open panels at waist level while you tried to uncomfortably cross your legs together—hoping to not flash the poor driver whose eyes fell intermittently on your flushed face. 

As if he did this every single day, Ran looped the first coil underneath your heaving breasts. He circled it around your torso, careful to move your hair out of the way so it wouldn’t get caught, and tightened it enough till you were gasping for breath. Taking the two ends, he curled it under your arms, taking them behind your back and tying them together. Your limbs effectively out of the way, he tugged the ends back underneath your rib cage, criss-crossing it over your shoulders to form a tight cage around your torso. 

Finishing off a knot behind your neck, the excess rope slid against your bare body, and he took the other coil, this time intentionally grazing the entire length over your right nipple. He repeated the same movement on your left one, the sudden burn of rope on your most sensitive peaks leaving them throbbing and hard like little fleshy stones. 

The outside world faded into a monotony, your entire attention stolen from the rope wounding in between your legs. Ran was quick to tie a knot, and before you could wrap your head around it, he had connected the length of rope with the one binding your hands together.

You were effectively caught in his trap with nowhere to go; red diamonds patterning across your entire torso and belly. Every breath you inhaled felt like you were trying to strain your breath past a sieve, your entire body rigidly straight and tingling. Your breathing came out shallow—your mind going dangerously blank. You felt his lips under your ear, his hands massaging your hips.

“I won’t hurt you, trust me,” he crooned, hypnotising you with his smooth baritone. “You look so pretty with my ropes on. I think we should go for a walk.” As he spoke, he straightened your coat lapels, tightening them back to your front to cover up his jute masterpiece. Once he fixed your hem and slid his own coat over your shoulders, no one could tell you were all tied up for him under two layers of warmth. 

“A walk,” you whispered, your ears ringing. “W-where?” 

As if he had planned this entire scene down to the last minute detail, Ran tapped on the driver’s shoulder, signalling for him to stop. You looked out past the heavily tinted windows, finding a stretch of beach greeting you. It was empty, but you spotted a few families dotting the shores, and suddenly felt lightheaded. 

“R-Ran—I-I can’t—”

“Ssh,” he rubbed your shoulder, surprisingly tender in his reassurances. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry. Let’s take it one step at a time.” 

You were far away from the city, close to the beach, with a dangerous man who had the power to humiliate you with one single flick of his wrist. He had re-tied your coat sloppily and loosely, probably on purpose to hammer in how vulnerable you were without him beside you. 

Ran wisely didn’t say another word as he helped you out of the car, his hands steady on the small of your back. The first thing you noticed was the chill—your nipples instantly stiffened, but the cold wasn’t the only reason why. You had barely noticed the knot above your clit—too caught up with your own nakedness underneath the coat to notice how it rubbed against you with every step you took. 

“S-shit…” your soft whimper drew his smirk. 

Ran led you by the elbow, turning back to nod at the driver who obediently stationed his ostentatious Lambo by the curb. The day was pleasantly chilly, and it would’ve been the perfect time for a walk if you weren’t dying from every step.

“Fuck…” The knot moved no matter how mincing your walk was; everything you tried to alleviate the firm tension right on your aching clit was useless. Your thighs were burning, your breaths coming out in heated pants. You were sure you were going to pass out, your brain going fuzzy. 

“Hey, stay with me,” Ran’s low voice beside you caught your attention. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he drew you to his side. He was wearing a pair of large Versace shades, covering those teasing purple eyes lingering on your flaming face. “Do you need a hand?” 

Laughing at your mutinous glare, you would’ve kneed him in the nuts if it wasn’t for the crotch rope digging up your folds. Your arms were starting to tremble in their locked position, and you swore every breath you took felt like you were struggling to inhale through molasses. Your lungs were fighting to inhale a deeper breath, and the mild choking sensation wrapped entirely around your body was making you feel like you were floating on air.

It’s too tight, you stumbled a little and Ran caught you. I feel like I’m completely trapped.

It didn’t help that you were wearing heels, your steps wobbling on the pavement. A woman was approaching hand-in-hand with an older man, and she locked eyes with you. 

Panic slithered down your spine—your nipples were fully pressing against the thin coat, and you were limping to avoid squeezing your thighs in front of her. You saw it on her face, that single look of concern and confusion. Hot shame tore through you, and you thought you would cry out if it wasn’t for Ran tightening his hold on you, that easy smile never slipping off his handsome face. 

Struggling to mimic his grin, you fought off the urge to squeeze your thighs in front of the poor, unsuspecting couple, nodding uncomfortably when they passed by you. Ran’s arm was a warm weight, offering you both support and the pretence of a loving boyfriend in front of these innocent strangers when you knew otherwise.

The steel grip. The tightening fingers on your shoulder. He was holding you tightly in his reins; keeping you from dissolving. His control over you never wavered, not for a split second. 

“How do you feel?” Ran spoke close to your ear. You couldn’t help the shiver from his warm breath touching your neck, struggling to find the right word which encapsulated your tense emotions. 

“Restrained,” you whispered back, unable to look him in the eye. You trailed your gaze to the brilliant blue sea, hunching your shoulders closer to your chest to keep your hard nipples semi-hidden. Anyone who saw you would assume you were curling inwardly from the cold. 

Ran tsked and nudged your lower back, reminding you to stand straight and tall. You reluctantly walked with your chest pressed out, the light coat covering your entire body feeling like a flimsy see-through cloth. 

Almost everyone who walked past you stared at your pinched expression in open curiosity. You felt like the entire world held a spotlight under your clothes—that they could tell a naked, tied-up and submissive woman was fighting off the cresting pleasure right under their noses.

“Ran, please,” you whimpered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your neck. You had both been walking for the past ten minutes, and the pavement continued stretching ahead with no end in sight. “I-I can’t anymore.” You were breathing heavily, forehead and chest covered with a light sheen of sweat. Ran made you stop in mid-stride, and you set your foot down with a quiet whimper.

The closest sensation you could describe burning through you was as if your entire body was sore from struggling in towering heels all day. 

You didn’t know what was worse—the pain of constantly being in motion or the agony of coming to a halt to fully feel the throbbing ache crashing into you.

You shifted from one foot to another, but nothing you did could stop that pesky knot from rubbing your clit. 

Ran had tied it tightly, making sure it was stimulating you even when you moved your weight. 

“Do you want to sit down?”

The thought of bending and struggling to perch yourself on a bench while the rope continued to rub and stretch across your pulsing clit almost made you cry.

“Please,” you nearly sobbed. “I-I can’t take it anymore. It b-burns.”

Ran slipped his arm around your waist, and drew you closer to him—letting you sag against his side, like how a boyfriend would let his tired girlfriend rest on him. You closed your watery eyes, fighting to keep calm. 

“Good girl,” Ran whispered, rubbing your back, your shoulders in broad daylight. Your brain was in a constant humming state of panic and arousal, you almost forgot you were in public before releasing a hushed, unsteady moan. “Fuck,” he chuckled, and the smell of his citrus cologne under your cheek was driving you quietly insane. “I think we need to head back. You’re a few strokes away from cumming and I can’t have that.”

The agony resumed again, this time nearly consuming you as you traced your way back to his car. Ran was patient with your mincing steps, and you were sure your palms were bleeding from how hard your nails dug into them. 

One, two, three—you tried to count your breaths, casting your eyes towards the ocean to take your mind off the strain in between your thighs and the bondage around your arms. 

The car loomed in the distance, and you were so grateful you actually cried out softly when the driver stepped out to open the door for you. Ran made sure to watch your head as you tumbled into the backseat, sprawled on the luscious cushions as he climbed in after you. 

“Drive,” Ran murmured tersely the second the driver returned back to his front seat. “Back home, Dayo-kun.”

“Yes, Sir,” the young man retorted, tipping his head and putting the car in motion. You sank back into the seats, releasing a groan of relief, tilting your hips up so the knot loosened its pressure on your throbbing clit. Ran took his coat off your shoulders, and unwound the twist in front of your body. 

Your roped torso appeared, your nipples hard enough to cut through steel. Ran played with the right one for a bit, rolling it between his long fingers and tugging. He exhaled a laugh through his nose when you squeaked, taken back by the sudden strike of sensitivity. You pinned your watery eyes to Dayo in the front, who was pleasantly driving like there wasn’t a woman teased and tied behind the car. 

Tattooed and ring-clad fingers played with your other rock hard nipple, cruelly pinching them to elicit your mewls, your hips ticking uncontrollably.

“So sensitive,” Ran whispered, smoothing one large palm down your sternum. His other hand was still busy stimulating your blushing bud—twisting, pinching and tugging it until you swore you felt every pang of pleasure deep in your cervix. 

“Ran,” you gasped, your body lurching forward to escape from the almost painful arousal. “S-stop—”

“Take it,” he murmured, tone barely fazed. “I think you can hold out longer than that.”

Stuffing your lower lip between your teeth, you keened, arching your back deeper into his arms, thrusting your breasts further up for him to play with. 

Bastard, bastard, bastard. You thought back to the couple who looked at you with polite concern, the older woman who turned her head the second you passed by her. Their stares. Their parted mouths. The question flashing in their eyes. Like they knew you were tied up—like they had known you were cresting on the edge of the strongest orgasm in your life.

Something wet slid down your thighs, and you gasped, prying your eyes open in time to find a small stream leaking out to drip down the carpeted floors. “Ran—”

He noticed your body betraying you, too, and growled, “That’s fucking right, baby—squirt for me.” Ran didn’t stop pinching your nipples, rolling them harshly between his calloused fingers. “Make a mess in my car, you little whore. Show the world who owns you—show Daddy how good this slutty pussy is for him.”

“A-Ah—!” Shamelessly, your back bowed, your thighs clenching together, but nothing could staunch the flow dripping down your legs; the well of shame finally overflowing. 

What is happening to me? 

Panic soused through your entire body, your thoughts going haywire. 

Fuck am I pissing in a car? I’m too old to piss in a car. Am I squirting? Oh God, Dayo can smell me. I’m squirting in the car. In public. I’m squirting—

“R-Ran!” you cried out, shaking the tinted windows with the decibels of your scream; your thighs fell open, hips pathetically pulsing in the air. Circling around. Trying to find a cock to sink down on. But, Ran didn’t even give you his fingers, greedily milking your nipples—flicking them, pinching them hard enough until they throbbed. They were fully distended, so sharp and pointy you could see them from a mile away.

Everything in front of you went blurry—the roads, sky and sea melting into a melange of colours. 

“R-Ran…” You sagged back into his chest, eyes sliding close in both exhaustion and surrender. The wetness trickled down to your ankles, staining your coat. His fingers ceased tugging on your poor, abused nipples, running down the dips of your hips instead.

“Good girl.” He hummed into your hair, “Good fucking girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Despite yourself—all of your reservations—your chest glowed warmly at his praise, your poor tits throbbing like dying embers. You felt your limbs loosened to your side, and the ropes melting to the floor. Strong arms gathered you closer to his chest, his face pressed into your neck, rocking you side to side like you were a child coming down from a tantrum. 

“Good girl. Did so well for me. I knew you could do it—I knew a slut like you had it in her. I’m so proud of you.” 

Your torture didn’t end there. 

Ran had driven you to one of his many penthouses around Tokyo, letting you grip onto his bicep as he led you up the elevator to his home. The doors opened to a grand decorated living room, gilded with expensive furniture and topped with an ivory piano in the middle of the cavernous space. You barely had time to admire the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Akasuka bay before he was dragging you into the bedroom. 

A large king-sized deck in silky white sheets immediately caught your eye. The second thing were the mirrors installed on the ceilings. On the walls, you noticed notches, and on the ceilings above were eye hooks which you found out what they meant the second he told you to strip and stand near the bed. 

Ran removed a coil of jute rope from underneath his bed, and you didn’t fight him off this time when he started to tie you up. Worn out from your bizarre release, your limbs were jelly when he lifted your arms overhead, securing them to a lowered hook. Tilting your head up, you noticed a double of your worried stare reflected back to you.

“You still scared?” He hummed, taking the ends of the jute coil and tucking it under your thighs. With a single tug, your right leg lifted off the ground, leaving you wobbling on your unsteady left one.

“Ugh—” You staunched a low groan, refusing to admit how much the sight of your own bound body in the mirrors above was turning you on beyond belief. The orgasm you experienced in his car left you completely unsatisfied, your hips ticking whenever he so much as grazed your pelvis. 

You needed more; you wanted more from Haitani Ran.

“I took some pictures of you, y’know,” Ran commented breezily, curling the rope around your heaving breasts, flicking your left nipple playfully as an afterthought. “The little dash camera beside Dayo-kun. I’m sure you noticed it.” 

Dimly, the recollection of a red blinking light came to mind. “N-no…” 

It was no use protesting. Ran chuckled like he hadn’t committed a violation against you, straightening up to stare you down the line of his angular nose. “You should know better than to underestimate me, Mrs. Tsunake. I always keep a track record wherever I go.” 

Once more red ropes kept you tethered to this sick game he was playing with you.

Ran hummed, taking one step back.

The rope harness was back around your torso, your arms tied overhead with the same devilish red coils. This time, your right leg was fastened to your waist, leaving your flushed folds and clit out in the vulnerable open. His bed yawned like a white mouth behind you, and from the windows stretching ahead, the city looked up at this lewd spectacle, twinkling lights like the tiniest flashes of cameras catching your flushed expression.

Your chest heaved, nipples circling, and you suddenly felt too exposed to the world. Anyone could peek past these windows at your bound form; someone could take a photo and send it right to your husband.

“It’s missing something.” 

Ran tapped a slim, manicured finger to his chin, and hummed. Disappearing from your view, you struggled to listen after his footsteps, the blood pounding in your veins. 

What more did he have up in store for you? 

He had already made you squirt without even putting his cock inside of you. He had already made you walk naked with nothing but ropes under your coat in front of innocent strangers. The flashing red light on the dashcam had probably taken multiple photos of you spilling all down your thighs like an untrained animal. 

You had nothing left to give him—you were wrought dry. Ran had reached inside of you and scooped up your deepest shame, weaponizing your own pleasure to ensure your downfall if you ever decide to come clean to Makko. 

He was disgusting; the scum of the earth. 

Those soft footfalls returned, and you were halfway turning around when you felt his hand on your neck. 

“I have a gift for you.” 

A gift? Before you could verbalise your question, you felt a stiff circle around your neck. Ran moved your hair to the side, fastening it with one click. Then, he tilted your head up, where you caught your own bewildered gaze in the reflective mirrors above, in time to watch him slot a red ball in between your teeth. He strapped it tight enough to smush your cheeks, leaving your mouth uncomfortably stuffed with the taste of rubber.

“Mmh—!” 

“Relax,” he cooed. “Do you know what this is?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, chuckling deeply. “It’s a ball gag. Feels strange, right? Like your jaw is stretched wide open. No one will ever hear you scream.” 

Fear flashed deep in your core, making you flinch away from him. “Mhm!” 

You could barely form words behind the gag, every plea coming out garbled and twisted.

Ran laughed again, his handsome face barely fazed in the reflection of the window. “I’m kidding. Told you I’m not gonna hurt you… not too much, at least.” 

He let the threat hang in the air, and left you alone to stew in your thoughts—your body swaying slightly in your bonds. You feared making any sudden moves; if your left leg accidentally gave way or you bent forward too much, you could pull your right hamstring—balanced as you were in such a precarious state.

Chewing on the rubber ball gag in frustration, you eyed your bound body through narrowed eyes. The strip around your neck looked to be made out of leather, and there was something written on it. You struggled to decipher the kanji, and when you finally made it out, you felt like you could’ve burst into an inferno of shame. 

Slutty hole for use. 

Tears pricked in your eyes, and you flexed your arms overhead, bringing more attention to your heaving tits. Ran, as if he had sensed your distress, returned back, now dressed down in a pair of black sweatpants, half of his dragon tattoo out in the open; pomade-free locks naturally hanging loose around his face.

“Do you like your collar? I had it custom made for you. It’s a gift.” As he spoke, he crept a hand on your waist, kneading your hip. Ran took one look at your sour expression and had to laugh. “Oh, don’t look so angry. At least I didn’t call you a ‘worthless fuckbitch’ didn’t I? I have more class than that, and you are an elegant woman, Y/N. I think ‘slutty hole for use’ suits you, don’t you think?” 

You turned your face away, chest heaving in angry shudders. 

“Hey—look at me.” 

Try as hard as you wanted to defy him, your body’s sudden instinct was to listen to everything he said. You dared to look him in the eye, and if the ball gag weren’t lodged in your mouth, you would’ve worn a twisted glare. Those lilac eyes went soft around the edges, his smirk holding just a twinge of satisfaction from your instant compliance.

“Good girl. You’ve been so good lately, huh? Any more good and I would have to let you cum.”

Your heartbeat tripled in speed, and without a single shred of control, you let slip a soft moan. 

“Yeah?” Ran grinned, both hands now on your body, roaming up your back, gliding over your shoulder blades. Every single careless touch left behind a trail of shivers. “I bet you’d like that, huh? How long has it been since you last came—two weeks ago? That paltry squirting in my car barely covered the itch, huh?” 

Without a second thought, you nodded. Your brain was filled with cotton, every defence you had left in your arsenal stripped away to leave you broken and vulnerable. Ran descended on your helplessness like a predator to a crippled prey, his grin more knives than teeth. His mouth touched the juncture of your neck, inhaling your perfume like a starved man. 

Your eyes rippled closed, and you let out a shaky mewl, feeling his grin grow against your sensitive strip of skin. 

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, nuzzling his face deeper into your neck. “So pretty. Bet you’d cum so nicely for me.” 

Large, warm hands caressed your hips, stopping just short of your mound. Brushing his fingers through the soft, downy hair, Ran’s ghost of a chuckle filled your heated ears. “I was wondering how’d this pretty pussy look tattooed with my name.” He smirked, as if the idea itself was downright depraved and enticing. “Why don’t we find out?” 

He left your side for the third time tonight, and your soft whine of protest was met with another sardonic laugh. “I’ll be back, slut.” You tongued the rubber ball gag trying to push it out of your mouth, but it was in vain. You twisted in your ropes, shifted your hips, and despite knowing how desperate you looked right now humping the air, you couldn’t help it. 

The ropes, the gag, his words… they were piling onto your already taut patience, stoking the heat of desire deep in your lower belly till you felt like you could cry out in frustration. As it was, tears beaded in your lash line, and you tried to wiggle out of the ropes, but barely moved an inch.

“Getting impatient?” 

Ran returned, and he held what looked like a pen in his hands. Except when he uncapped it, the familiar scent of dry erase marker wafted straight to your nose, filling you with trepidation. Without another word, Ran got down onto one knee, at eye-level with your pussy. “So pretty,” he cupped your mound, middle finger dangerously close to your clenching hole. You watched, as if in a trance, as he pressed the marker to your pelvis. 

Slowly, Kanji started to appear on your skin, the colour contrasting vividly against your tone to stand out in sharp attention. 

Ran Haitani’s slut. Needy bitch. Cum in here (with an arrow pointed straight down to your now leaking pussy). On your inner thighs—’lick me’ and ‘bite me’ were playfully written onto your skin. 

Your lover (fuck—you didn’t think you would ever refer to a Bonten yakuza executive with such an intimate title), stood back up, his smirk widening at your chagrined expression. The ink itched on your skin as it dried, and he didn’t wait for the words to literally sink in when he moved the marker’s nub to your breasts. 

On the plush fat, he painstakingly wrote a number of degrading words you had trouble deciphering through the window’s reflection. But, once their meaning was uncovered, you made a little sound of dissent in the back of your throat. 

Whore. Slut. Cumhole. Ran Haitani’s stress reliever. Property of Ran Haitani.

Ran. Ran. You were his—all of his. 

I belong to him now, your woozy mind procured. Ran was making his mark on you—literally and figuratively. He was treating you like the scum under his shoe while pushing the biggest orgasm of your life onto your bound, willing body. 

It was fucking insane how much it turned you on; to be tied up with such care while a litter of derogatory words blemished your skin. Your brain was slipping into a blissed out, white space—no thoughts existed between a single need to cum, cum, cum. 

Ran took one look at you, at the hazy look in your eyes and smiled knowingly. He tossed the marker aside, unbuckling the ball gag, letting you flex your jaw. “I’ll be back,” he murmured, and left you to stew in your humiliation. 

I’ve never felt this way before, your eyes slipped closed, breaths coming out in laboured pants past your aching mouth. I have never been this aroused in my life. This feeling was wrong; it was borderline abhorrent. You should be screaming for help, trying to punch the living daylights out of Haitani with your free leg. Not sway from side to side, biting on your lower lip while you tried to staunch the pressing need growing heavier and stronger in between your exposed thighs. 

While in the throes of your deepest self-loathing, Ran came back, and you squeaked in surprise at the sheer size of the flesh-toned dildo he held in his grasp. The fucking thing looked entirely too realistic—veins running down the entire length, with a girthy base. Unbidden, your pussy throbbed, but unfortunately, it wasn’t where Ran was planning to use it on you. 

“Open up,” he murmured silkily. A strong hand clamped around your neck, and your lips parted on instinct. The taste of silicone invaded your mouth, dripping into the back of your throat. Your gurgled moans resounded throughout the room, drawing a sadistic grin on his placid features. Ran fucked your throat with the dildo, coming close enough to make you gag, but he always pulled back when you started to struggle.

Tears smarted in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. Your mouth bulged with the weight of the plastic cock, cheeks hallowed and trying your best to deepthroat it. But, you could tell Ran wasn’t impressed.

“Is that the best you can do?” He arched a brow, gazing at you quizzically. “I’m disappointed, Y/N. Your performance is abysmal.”

You were about to spew a colourful insult at him when he stuffed the thick cock back down your throat, easing it up and down your gullet. 

“I know you can do better than this,” he cooed, eyeing a trickle of saliva dripping down your chin. He pried the dildo from your mouth, silvery strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to the plastic tip as you gasped and sputtered.

“Ra—unhg.” You choked back on your words as he slid the dildo back into your mouth, shallowly thrusting it from the end of your throat right to the parting of your lips. 

“You should see yourself,” Ran whispered, leaning close enough that you could feel his body heat seeping into every inch of your bare skin. “Wearing my collar, decorated in such pretty words, sucking on a thick cock. You’re the very picture of a well-used whore, Y/N.” You dolefully hollowed your cheeks, fighting back the urge to jerk your head back violently and accidentally hurt yourself.

“In fact, I think I need to take a picture of you—hold that for me, will you?” Ran left the dildo dangling from your mouth, and you bit down on it hard to keep the toy from tumbling to the ground in a mess of spit and more of Ran’s disappointment. 

With his phone in hand, Ran recorded you, flashlight searing through your eyes as he plucked the dildo out from your mouth. His camera trailed down from your head to toe, starting from your desperate expression, down to the filthy words smeared on your skin and then to your glistening pussy dripping obscenely onto the tiles. He stuffed the fake cock back into your mouth, the camera lens like an obtrusive third eye witnessing your defilement. 

The flashlight burned as it trailed onto the eager curve of your mouth taking the dildo down your throat like a good girl. Everytime you gagged, all Ran did was coo softly at you, telling you to breathe in deeply before plundering the well-soaked toy back down your throat. Your body was completely on fire, singing straight from the tips of your hair down to your curling toes.

Every thrust bruised the back of your throat, and you wondered if you could even speak after this. 

“Good girl, take this like a champ,” Ran praised, cradling your right breast in one hand, thumb gently circling your stiff nipple. “I should give you my cock after this. It’s longer than this toy. You might hurt yourself.”

The mere thought of Ran’s cock—the abstract idea of him fucking you in any way or form—made your back arch and nipples hard enough to chew. For all of the humiliating things he had done to you, Ran hadn’t yet stuffed his length into either your pussy and mouth. 

Why? You thought as you licked the dildo from base to tip, trying to imagine it was his cock. Why would he go through all these lengths only to not give me what I truly want? 

You wanted this. You wanted Ran to put his foot right into his smug bastard mouth and fuck you so hard and good, you’d be ruined for your husband. Those thoughts alone were enough to make you clench down on thin air, wishing you had something buried deep into your pussy so you could get yourself off quickly. 

“I can see your hips moving,” he observed quietly, eyeing your tight nipples. “And those perky tits—fuck, you’re really getting off to this, huh?” 

You gurgled your assent. 

“Most women would cry in your position—trust me, I’ve had them do that to me. But, you’re just enjoying every single second. You really are sick in the head—you like being treated like a fucktoy, don’t you?” 

Ran pulled the spit-soaked dildo from your mouth, smiling cruelly when you gasped at the sudden loss of cock down your throat, your whines both pitiful and impure.

“Say it,” he mumbled, dangling the toy in front of you like a literal schoolyard bully. “Say: ‘I love being treated like a fucktoy, Daddy’.” 

To humiliate you was one thing, but to have you parrot it back to him was downright debasing. You felt your insides pathetically pulse, craving whatever contact Ran was willing to give you—even if it was entirely undignified and injured your ego. 

You licked your lips, biting down on the plump lower one as you tried to find the courage to muster up the words. Those lilac eyes seemed to taunt you, glassy and prodding as if saying—are you brave enough to even try? 

“I… I love…” you faltered, throat bobbing in nerves. The camera was still pointed at you. Heaving in a breath, you pinned your watery eyes onto the bright light, blinking like a literal doe caught in headlights. “I love being treated like a fucktoy, Daddy.” 

If it was even possible, his smile turned even crueller. “Good girl.” Switching off the camera, your entire body sagged forward the second the harsh light was out of your face. Dark spots played around your vision, and you almost missed his featherlight touch on your clit. 

Tap, tap, tap. With every deliberate light slap on your swollen nub with his index and middle fingers, Ran made your entire body jolt. You cried out, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. 

“Feels good, huh?” He murmured, spreading his hand across your bare belly, never ceasing his callous slaps onto your poor, denied cunt. “You poor, poor thing. So eager and desperate to cum. Daddy’s been so mean to you, huh? That even slapping this cute little pussy has got you all desperate and needy. Aww.” 

“R-Ran—” you choked when he increased the speed and impact, the wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh loud in the electrifying quiet. Your watery eyes pinned onto your reflection—as much as you tried to ignore your crushing need, it seeped through with increasing urgency. 

You bit on your lip to focus on not cumming without his permission—but Ran was making it entirely impossible not to. 

Every stinging slap went straight to your core, jolting you, turning you delirious. You were close enough that your walls started to spasm, your eyes rolling back into your skull.

“Ran—!”

As if understanding your predicament, he laughed. “Cumming already? Gonna spill all over my hand? I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re so impatient.”

Every breath you took felt like drops of dew in your lungs, condensing right in front of your parted mouth, each gasp more fervent than the last.

“Ran, Ran, I-I can’t—” you choked off when he clamped one hand around your throat, tipping your head back. His lips hovered over yours, and instead of kissing you like you thought he would, his throat bobbed, and a globe of spit trickled from his open mouth into yours. 

You swallowed him down desperately, messily. Opening your mouth for more. And Ran gave it to you. 

More trickles of spit flooded your mouth, and his tongue teasingly rimmed your lower lip, making you whine and fester even more in your unending agony. His fingers were now slowly rubbing your clit, focused on edging out your release. You were so close, you felt like you could spontaneously combust.

Swallowing another wad of saliva, your parched body twisted this way and that, aching to find relief or escape from his steady circles on your clit.

“Ran—”

He kissed you this time, sensual and deep, tongue curling with yours, lips tasting of bourbon and sin. 

It was enough to completely break your entire resolve.

Every pore in your body tensed, mind going blank with one singular primal instinct rearing through. 

Like he could sense your impending release, the slow circles on your clit ceased—your entire world crashing down as the coveted orgasm he stoked for close to two hours dissipated, leaving a gnawing itch in your entire body.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he murmured decisively, unclasping his hand from your throat. 

Ran didn’t say a word as you gathered your thoughts, though he did shoot a few meaningful glances at your crushed expression. Ultimately, you couldn’t find your voice, too caught up in the denial trampling all your hopes to form a single coherent thought.

You were livid, sad and disappointed all rolled in one, but if there was one thing you couldn’t refute? 

How every single cell in your body unceasingly—unwaveringly—hungered for more of his touch. 

Back home, you barely responded to the maids who bowed as you passed them, focused on cleaning up before Makko got back from the office. 

You stumbled into the bathroom, hyper aware of the words still written on your body, feeling them branded into your skin. Shrugging off your coat, you were mortified to find those degrading names still latched onto your body, unable to be washed off even with soap and a loofah. With the sleeves of your coat hanging off your arms, you scrubbed at your body, frustrated to find the words barely feathering away. 

After minutes of scrubbing until your arms were hurting, you gave up, tipping your head back with a resigned sigh. Once the panic had ebbed away, you decided with grim finality to not let Makko take a look at your naked body until all the words were washed away—which was a feat considering how erratic your husband’s libido could be. 

Shuddering at the mental image of his shocked expression when he found another man’s name deep on your body, you shrugged the coat back on, but not before skimming your fingers lightly over some of the words.

The Kanji neatly spelled out your unwilling bond with Ran Haitani, the derogatory actions he committed onto you earlier today flashing through your mind. Your pussy went slick again, the sick moments edging the heat inside of you back into a simpering flame. 

Ran’s tongue in your mouth. The scent of dry erase as it appeared on your skin. His fingers on your clit. How tight the ropes felt around your body; how he curved his bigger build around you protectively as you were all tied up and vulnerable for him. 

Instinctively, you touched your mound, inching your fingers in between your drenched seam. Finding your clit, you tapped on the swollen bud, feeling the same shocks Ran’s fingers gave you coursing through your body for the second time today. But, it was different from his touch—Ran was rougher. Coarser. 

He loved to touch you like he wanted to destroy you. 

Your own fingers could never—would never—suffice. As much as it tore you up on the inside, you needed him. You needed Ran to touch you, tease you. It was etched into the bone-deep desire in your deprived body. 

Only Ran Haitani could quench this crippling desire coursing through your entire veins.

Only he could put out the fire he started first. 

And you were the poor soul hungering for every bit of his heat, yearning to feel his warmth again at the expense of your complete destruction. 

“Where are you heading out to?” 

Makko’s voice shocked you from your motions of putting on your sunglasses. 

The entire mansion was empty today, the maids given a rare time off to celebrate this public holiday. Offices were shut down, and almost every minister took this opportunity to indulge their wives’ whims of flying out to Hokkaido for spa retreats—taking this moment of sparse freedom to rejuvenate their minds and bodies before another arduous week of political campaigning began. 

Almost everyone, except for your workaholic husband who refused to entertain the thought of leaving his home office.

So, when Ran had texted you, telling you to come over to his penthouse with nothing but your coat on, who were you to resist the alluring thought of a few moments in pleasurable torture? 

You flashed him a sweet smile, nodding towards the door. 

“Just running some errands. I’ll be back soon.”

Your husband was a robust man, standing close to 6 feet. His grey speckled hair and stern eyes had once completely enthralled you when you were a young woman still new to the marriage game. But, after years of sticking by his side, feeling stifled to hide the truest version of yourself, you needed a breather. 

You needed a brief respite to reveal another side of you which only a certain Bonten executive had seen.

Makko’s brow furrowed, and his lips turned down into a frown. “I thought we were supposed to visit my mom today?” 

Shit. You had completely forgotten about your promise to accompany him to Azabu to meet up with your equally snide mother-in-law and Makko’s sister. Plastering on a regretful look, you felt the shards of guilt scrape your bruised conscience. 

Ran had to understand. He would know your marriage came first and not this shitty game he was playing with you. 

Bowing your head, you exhaled deeply. “Of course. I’m sorry, I forgot. I’ll go get changed and we can visit oka-san today. Just let me cancel my appointment.” 

Makko’s lower lip twitched, and he spared you an inscrutable look.

“You’re getting more forgetful lately. And you seem more tired. Is something the matter?” 

Without waiting for you to speak, Makko approached you, his large palms spreading out on your hips. Your husband pulled you closer by the waist, and for a split second, you panicked, thinking he would loosen your coat and pull it down only to find that you were already naked underneath it. 

The words Ran had written on your body days ago had already faded after numerous rounds of rigorous scrubbing while your husband was at work. But, the guilt and shame still persisted. 

You still felt the indelible stain on your skin—tasted the silicone of an impossibly large cock down your throat when you swallowed back on your remorse. Makko was a good man—despite his stolid nature and strict ways, and you didn’t want to hurt him. 

His bushy lip grazed your ear, breathing in your perfume. 

“Or, are you finally pregnant, my love?” 

You felt a jolt go through your entire body at his suggestion. Laughing uneasily, you pried his hands off your waist, fixing him with what you hoped was a sweet, disarming smile. “I would never do anything without your knowledge first, darling, you know that. I’m not pregnant so you have nothing to worry about.”

Makko breathed out deeply, his eyes softening. “Good. I don’t think a baby would be right for us now, yeah? I know my PA said the family man angle would work, but I’m worried about what this means for future campaigns. I can’t run for office fully if I have you at home with a child.” 

A child. Not even my baby. Your husband’s callousness would always take you aback, but after years together, you weren’t caught off guard anymore. 

Your smile was brittle, as thin as tissue. “I understand. Let me change, and follow you out. We can’t keep your oka-san waiting for us.” 

Usually, whenever Rindou appeared at his doorstep, it could only mean two things.

One, he had unfinished business with Bonten that his little brother wanted to talk over. 

Or, two—he was in deep, deep shit. 

From the look etched in Rindou’s somnolent eyes, Ran guessed it was the latter. Resigning himself to an afternoon of boredom after his favourite toy was busy entertaining her husband’s whims, Ran didn’t anticipate his little brother’s arrival to perk him up.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Rin?” Ran’s voice was even, smooth. But, underneath it was a layer of curiosity waiting to be unearthed. 

Dressed down in some grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, Rindou tracked his older brother’s face, the purse of his mouth looking off with his usual blase attitude. “Mikey’s orders. Can I come in?” 

Ran cocked one lilac brow, but stepped aside for his only brother to enter. “Mikey? He’s not gonna make you lodge a bullet in my brain, right?” 

In answer, Rindou shrugged, further agitating Ran. “Depends. Do you have a lighter?”

Tossing Rin his vintage S.T. Dupont, Ran sauntered over to his velvet couch, draping himself on it. Rindou fumbled with a white stick, lighting it up and joining his nii-san on the couch opposite of him. 

“Mikey heard something and wanted me to check with you,” Rin murmured past the smoke pouring from his mouth.

Ran laced his fingers together over his crossed knee, tilting his head to one side. “Well? Get it over with. Does he think I’m a traitor or sum’n?” 

Truthfully, Ran anticipated Rindou would at least roll his eyes or crack a smile. Not look at his older brother with something like grim curiosity in those similarly hued purple orbs. 

“He heard rumours. Of you and the mayor’s wife. Someone saw you two down in Roppongi together. Are you seeing some poli-tick’s missus? You know better than that, nii-chan.” 

Rindou was completely serious, his mouth set in a hard frown. How did Ran know? It’s been years since his younger brother called him ‘nii-chan’ and to hear that honorific dripping from Rin’s mouth made Ran feel an iota of shame. 

But, instead of admitting to his faults, the older Haitani brother slapped on a grin. 

“Give me a second.” 

Tapping into his phone, Ran looked like he was casually sending a message. Not a minute to spare later, his text tone went off—confirming Rindou’s suspicion—and a smug smile graced the older man’s lips.

Without giving Rin any context, Ran held out his phone, showing his younger brother an impressive set of tits taken by a woman in front of a fancy, gilded mirror. The seductress in question who had sent his brother that racy picture had great collarbones—dainty and poised even as the sleeves of her modest, silk dress were hanging off her arms. Strangely enough, her face was cut out of the picture, leaving the younger Haitani curious as to who this was. 

The smooth, stretch of bare skin topped with perky, suckable nipples, made something in Rindou’s lower gut twitch, but he focused his half-mast eyes to his brother who set his phone down, a bastard grin lighting his expression.

“I’m blackmailing her,” Ran started to explain. “Stupid bitch came to my club trying to make a drug deal with some small fish. I got the photos. She was drunk enough to cream on my fingers so I got those vids, too. And now she does everything I ask of her. With absolutely no hesitation. If she doesn’t, those videos and photos go straight to the mayor’s office. Impressive, right?” 

Rindou sat back, blinking rapidly. The cigarette clamped between two fingers was dripping ash onto the ground, neglected by the man who was completely stupified by what his brother had just said.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rindou pieced it together in a slow drawl. “You’re fucking the mayor’s wife, and blackmailing her at the same time? But, what power does she have?” 

Ran shrugged, his eyes drifting shut for a split second before they fluttered open. “I don’t know the extent, but let’s find out. I mean, raids have been popping up near our turf lately, and if she can sway Tsunake to focus on Black Dragon territory instead, we might get away free. Also,” Ran added, “I’m not fucking her. She’s my denial slave. Fucking gets off to me being mean to her—you should come by once in awhile when I have her all tied up and dripping. Bet she’d love it.”

Rindou snorted, stubbing out his barely touched cigarette and lighting up another. Pulling in a deep inhale, he puffed out his next callous words with barely any conscious thought. “Mina will fucking kill me. I’m not a manwhore like you, Ran. One woman’s plenty enough of a handful for me.”

At the mention of Rin’s fiancee, Ran shook his head. “So typical of you to be whipped for the first woman who lets you cum all over her face. I guess I raised you wrong.”

“You raised me right,” Rindou countered, running a hand through his fluffy, purple cut. “Mina wants to meet my family. Says it’s about time she claps her eyes on your fugly mug. But, I told her you’re a private guy.”

Ran hummed, stealing one cig from Rindou’s stash on the table. “She’s right,” he spoke through the smoke. “I am incognito. Don’t need any more women throwing themselves at me.”

“Ha fucking ha. I’ll kill you if you ever touch her.” 

The older Haitani exhaled a genuine laugh. “Is that how you knew you were in love with her?” 

Though the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, Ran knew his brother well enough to sense that any mention of his precious Mina would get his mouth running. Rindou was just whipped like that. 

“Nah. Knew I fucked up the moment I looked at her and felt all warm and gooey without riding the high of a nut. Love hits you harder than a motherfucker, Ran. You’ll know when you know.”

Though Ran doubted he would ever look at a woman and feel light-headed unless his balls were thoroughly drained by her, the idea was entertaining enough to consider.

“I want you to meet her one day. Mrs. Tsunake. Maybe if she knew Bonten was real, we could get a bigger deal out of her blackmail.”

Rindou considered it. “Fine. Call me up the next time she’s here. But, she can’t see me or hear me. I don’t want Mina to find out.”

“Deal. Also, you can’t fuck her. My rules. I want my cock to be the first thing she cums on after we hit the one month on her denial training.”

“Denial training? But, what about the husband? You sure she ain’t sneaking around a good nut with him?” 

Ran was absolutely confident when he shook his head. “Nah. I would know. Besides, no woman who acts like a bitch in heat the second I touch her would be breaking my rules. Give me more credit—I know how to leash them well.”

At the mention of his brother’s… deeper proclivities… Rindou sighed. 

“Fine. What do you want me to tell Mikey, though? He’s waiting for my answer.”

Ran deliberated for a second, flicking more ash onto the mahogany coffee table.

“Tell him this, and tell him this exactly, Rindou—’You don’t have to worry about her, boss. I’ve got it under control. Sumida territory will be ours by next Sunday. You have my fucking word.’”

a/n: ran leash me challenge i would say thank you <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy the concept, sentence structures and scenes without prior permission from the creator.

[intuitively-her]

Weekly predictions🔮

💗You are leaving behind the things that once kept you stuck

💗There’s some drama going on within your family

💗You need to be more self-indulgent. Stop over giving to people, especially family

💗Beware of scams!🚫 I see someone wanting to collaborate with you, but this is only for their personal benefit. This is a deceitful male energy

💗Your former boss wishes that you would come back. Things flowed better when you were there

💗You are stepping into a new era. Expect more abundance and recognition within the next few days⭐️

💗Someone from your past wants new beginning with you. Don’t let them back in

💗Receiving more romantic offers. You’ve been looking good lately😍

💗Your hard work is paying off💰

💗Moving on from grief/ a loss💔

💗Gaining your spark back✨

💗Expect to hear some good news about work! This could be a promotion or call back from a job. They see your potential🙂

💗Trust your gut this week! You ain’t tripping

💗Feeling burdened with responsibilities/ like you can’t catch a break

💗Focusing on your happiness and pouring back into yourself🌞

💗Feeling sad about something💔

💗Being forced to make a decision about something

💗Birthing new ideas or someone could literally be giving birth soon. Congratulations!🤰🏽

💗You’re growing!⚡️

💗Taking some time to be alone and heal. This was much needed for you

💗Releasing blockages/ working through your fears/ breaking away from old mindsets

*Only take what resonates!*

Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work. Thanks!💖

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Under Your Spell

Vox x Reader

Since childhood, I have been told I look identical to my great-grandmother. Her husband, my great-grandfather, has looked at me like I was the last fragment of her to walk this earth. When he passed, it made me realize how some people lose their first loves and never get to see them again. I decided for this story that Vox should get to see his first love after he thought all was lost. However, it was you, his first lost love's great-granddaughter. You have the same looks and names, just younger. He thought after his first love's father chased him away, that was it, and any part of your life would never be in his hands again—until you were placed in Val's hands, and his protective side came out. Can you two learn to love each other? Will things grow or dissolve since he is close to that horrid Moth man? Tw: MDNI, 18+, Assult, Val being Val, Weird family-like relations, based off my HC Vox

Wow, this one is a long one. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! I don't normally write long pieces like this, so if we like it, I will attempt to do it more! I wanted this posted yesterday but just kept writing and writing and writing. I had to make myself stop and cut off.

“No, Vox! You will never see my daughter again! Do you hear me?” The older man’s voice thundered, his face a deep crimson, veins bulging as fury twisted his features. Spit flew from his mouth with each vehement word, a grotesque display of his rage. “She is a good Christian woman, and she will not fall for your television antics! She deserves a good man—someone who can provide for her, not some reality star scum!”

Vox swallowed hard, the bitter taste of desperation rising in his throat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he fought to keep them at bay, unwilling to give the man before him the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. “You can’t do this!” He surged forward, trying to push the door open again, the threshold of your home now a barrier between love and despair. Just moments ago, he had envisioned a simple marriage proposal—an intimate moment filled with promise. But the moment he uttered those words, it felt as if the heavens had opened up to unleash divine wrath upon him. Vox was never a good christian man and now only seemed to further prove that.

“I love her! I have loved her for so long! I will treat her right! You cannot take my Angel from me!” His voice cracked, desperation saturating each syllable as he pleaded with the man who wielded the power to shatter his dreams.

But the door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing in his heart. As Vox stumbled back, the world around him blurred, the vibrant colors of love fading into a monochrome nightmare. You were gone, just as quickly as you had entered his life, your father’s iron grip ripping you from his arms. Like a good Christian girl, you obeyed, never looking back.

You married a well-off businessman, someone who could provide in all the ways Vox was deemed incapable. Sundays found you in polished pews, while he languished in the bright glare of daytime TV. You bore children while Vox climbed the ranks to prime time, and as he basked in fleeting fame, you were left to wither under the weight of a dreaded illness. When he was ultimately taken down by his own deceitful schemes, it felt like a cruel twist of fate for you both.

When Vox woke in hell, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he felt a strange sense of contentment; he knew he had courted darkness throughout his life. A con man’s rise to fame was paved with the broken dreams of others, and he’d danced on that line with reckless abandon. Yet, the greatest cost was the loss of you—his little angel, the only light that could have guided him from the shadows. Perhaps, if he had kept you by his side, he might have found redemption instead of ruin.

Years in hell stretched on, dull and monotonous, much like his time as a TV host. He made acquaintances, and he made enemies. He learned from the notorious Radio Demon, their relationship evolving into a rivalry as fierce as it was complex. Valentino entered the picture, a partnership forged in the fires of self-interest, followed by Velvette, who added her own chaotic flair to their strange trio. Despite these new connections, Vox could never fully release you from his heart. How could he let go of his first love, the girl who had filled his world with color?

Vox kept tabs on you long ago when you two still walked among the living, an unyielding shadow lurking in the corners of your life. He was a shady man, after all, so it was no surprise that he employed someone to follow you and your family. He needed to know you were loved and cared for, even if it meant watching from the sidelines. Your life blossomed into something beautiful—a picture-perfect family, Sunday church outings, laughter echoing through the halls of your home. Each glimpse of your happiness twisted the knife in his heart, a reminder of what he had lost. He only wished now here in hell he could have a moment to see you once more.

Yet, you never looked back at him, not once. Even when he learned you were sick, he held onto the hope that your devoted husband would nurse you back to health. Instead, you spent your final years in a realm far brighter than hell, surrounded by family, while Vox remained trapped in the shadows.

Then, one fateful day, the story took an unforeseen turn. You, Y/N L/N, the great-granddaughter of the woman who once bore the same name and likeness, found yourself in a world steeped in piety and predictability. Your family’s life revolved around the church—Sunday services, Bible studies, and summer camps that felt more like shackles than blessings.

Yet you, the wild child among your siblings and the first daughter in generations, danced on the edge of rebellion. Your spirit, a fiery blend of your grandmother’s beauty and the reckless charm of a man she once sought to escape late into the night with, burned brightly. You lived humbly, taking only what you needed in the daylight, but at night that didn’t stop you from indulging in the vices that thrilled your heart—partying, drinking, and seeking freedom in every forbidden encounter.

As you stepped into adulthood, the veil of your misdeeds was ripped away, exposing the wild and reckless girl you had been. On your eighteenth birthday, the news broke like a thunderclap, echoing through your conservative town. Whispers turned to shouts as tales of your high school escapades spread like wildfire—parties, late nights, and indiscretions that painted you as the black sheep of your family.

In a desperate attempt to salvage your reputation, your parents enrolled you in a Christian college, hoping the structure would steer you back to the righteous path. But even there, with the pressure of expectations weighing heavily on you, you found ways to maintain your hedonistic lifestyle. You studied hard, yes, but the allure of nightlife was too intoxicating to resist. By the time you turned twenty-four, your antics had once again come to light, revealing just how unladylike and un-Christian your behavior had truly become.

Disowned by your family, you were cast out like a forgotten relic, but it hardly stung. You had siblings aplenty—golden children who fit the mold your parents desired. While they basked in their parents' approval, you reveled in your newfound freedom, embracing a life unshackled from the burdens of propriety. You danced through life with a wild abandon, each misstep a badge of honor in your quest for self-discovery.

But this exhilarating freedom came crashing down one fateful night. On the eve of your twenty-eighth birthday, you found yourself at a pulsating club, surrounded by friends who matched your energy. Laughter and music melded into a cacophony of joy, and for a moment, the weight of your past felt distant. But as the night wore on, everything blurred. A drink, laced with malice, slipped into your hand, and before you knew it, the world around you faded to black.

When you came to, the vibrant lights and music were replaced by an oppressive stillness. You blinked, disoriented, trying to piece together what had happened. Panic surged through you as you recognized your surroundings—a hellish landscape bathed in a sinister shade of red. The air was thick with a suffocating heat, and the ground beneath you felt like it was pulsating with a malevolent energy.

The reality of your situation crashed down like a wave, and you realized you were no longer in the world you had known. You had crossed an unforgiving threshold, one that led straight into this hellish landscape. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes—your family’s disappointment, your reckless choices, the fleeting moments of joy that now seemed tainted.

As you struggled to rise, the shadows began to shift and swirl around you, whispering secrets of despair and temptation. You knew you were exactly where you belonged, a place you practically through yourself at the minute you were old enough to disobey your family. You were killed and now resting here in the pits of hell.

In those fleeting moments, you understood that you weren’t just a victim of circumstance from one bad drink; you were a participant in your own chaotic narrative. The life you had led and the choices you had made brought you here, and now, in this twisted realm, you had the chance to confront the consequences of your actions. 

With a mixture of fear and defiance, you steeled yourself, ready to navigate this dark new world. You would face whatever challenges awaited you, determined to reclaim your story, even if it meant battling the demons of your past—both literally and figuratively.

You were in hell and you readily accepted this, dressed in a glitzy clubbing dress, your skin transformed to the vibrant hue of a fox’s rich orange, glinted with specks of white and black. Yet, amidst this twisted beauty, your features still bore the unsettling resemblance to your deceased great grandmother.

As the years dragged on, the brutal exterminations became increasingly difficult to evade. The once-familiar landscape of hell morphed into a relentless hunt, where survival was a cruel game of chance. Desperation gnawed at your insides, leading you to a place you had sworn to avoid—a notorious sex house owned by Valentino, a figure whose reputation sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened souls.

You stepped into that den of sexual sin with a singular purpose: the Vee’s worker bees somehow endured the purges, and you were desperate to escape the clutches of a second death. With a resolve, you signed up to be 'looked at' for a position among his girls, hoping to cling to life a little longer.

What you encountered inside was an atmosphere so charged with depravity it felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. The air was thick with the heady scent of desperation and lust, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and smoke. You had pushed boundaries in your past life, but this was another level entirely. As nausea rose in your throat, you instinctively turned to prayer—a futile gesture in this place of darkness.

But in that moment of vulnerability, your fate took a turn. Valentino’s gaze locked onto yours, and you became acutely aware of the power dynamics at play. You were stunning, a rare gem in a world where foxes were coveted for their allure, and you were an easy choice for Val, despite your lack of experience in the kind of intensity he demanded.

Fortune, it seemed, was on your side. Within hours, you found yourself promoted, thrust into the orbit of Angel Dust, a top star in this grim world, and whisked away to Vee's Tower, where the underbelly of the film industry thrived. At first, your work was relatively tame, as Angel had angered Val, bearing the brunt of the wrath while you breathed a sigh of relief. You grew to enjoy the role, finding unexpected camaraderie with Velvette, the costume designer whose creativity brought a splash of color to the otherwise bleak environment. She was a refreshing presence, a stark contrast to the calculating Val.

Yet, the shadows loomed ever closer. Angel’s absence, demanded by the princess of hell, left you standing alone in a spotlight that felt increasingly dangerous. Whispers of Val’s violent tendencies echoed in your mind, tales of how he had ruthlessly eliminated two of Velvette’s models and three of Vox’s interns. Fear coursed through your veins as you perched on a plum-red bed, clad in a navy blue lingerie set, feeling like prey waiting to be devoured.

And then, without warning, the door swung open. You braced yourself, only to find not Val, but a strikingly handsome man with a television for a head. It was Vox, the elusive figure you had only heard whispers about. You leaned forward, captivated by the confrontation unfolding before you, the tension crackling in the air like electricity.

But then Val’s eyes landed on you, and his smile widened, a predatory gleam igniting within them. “My dear Voxypoo,” Val purred, “how about we make a deal? I’ll apologize for my misdeeds towards your interns in exchange for Hermosa over here.” 

Your heart raced as Vox’s eyes widened in recognition, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. An unexpected jolt of electricity surged through you, mingling with fear and a spark of something dangerously close to desire. You were caught in a web of fate, and as the stakes rose higher, you realized that your story in this hell was only just beginning.

You had never met this man before a day in your life, yet an inexplicable pull drew you toward him, a magnetic static crackling in the air around him. “Oh Vox, if you don’t want her, that’s fine. I plan on her taking Angel’s role today. The damn spider is off playing games with the princessa bitch,” Valentino sneered, and your heart sank. Fear coursed through your veins like ice water; the realization hit you hard—he intended to use you in one of those scenes, to thrust you into the depths of humiliation and despair.

“She's a high commodity; I’m sure her soul would be mine after—” Val’s voice trailed off, but you couldn’t grasp what was happening next. One moment, you were trembling in fear, and the next, a whirlwind of chaos erupted. Valentino’s eyes swirled with ominous black and red spirals as the shoot was abruptly canceled, the tension snapping like a frayed wire.

A navy blue jacket was draped over your shoulders, and a firm hand helped you to your feet. “Come with me. You will be working in VoxTech from now on. Understood?” Vox’s voice was steady, but you could only nod, relief flooding through you at the thought of escaping Val’s clutches, at least for now.

You were still ensnared in the web of the Vee’s world, but perhaps you could choose the cranky TV man who seemed more enigmatic than predatory. Maybe you could carve out a semblance of a life, away from the chaos that had become your existence.

Following Vox, you traversed the unfamiliar corridors of Vee’s Tower, finally arriving in a room that felt distinctly different from the others. The walls were lined with large screens displaying chaotic scenes from around hell, and a solitary chair sat in the center, casting a shadow like a throne of power. “W-Where are we? Val never brought me here?” you stammered, confusion clouding your mind.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. Was this place a reflection of his past? Did you really resemble someone he had lost? The thought flickered through his mind, but Vox regained his composure and sat down, turning on the myriad of cameras that monitored the chaos outside. “This is my office. You will grow acquainted with it, as you will be my personal assistant.”

A wave of dread washed over you. So you weren’t free from the chains of servitude; you were merely swapping one form of obedience for another. His gaze flicked toward you, and he must have seen the pain etched in your features because he added, “You will do nothing more for me than paperwork, gather intel, and help set up schedules.” He motioned for you to leave, his tone dismissive yet oddly gentle.

“This floor has eight unused apartments. Choose one and message me; I will unlock it for you, and you can create your own secure pin to come and go.” His words felt like a lifeline, yet the way he avoided looking at you left a strange knot in your stomach.

Nodding, you stepped out, still wrapped in his jacket, a strange comfort amidst the chaos. You wandered the floor until you found a room that resonated with you—a sanctuary away from the dirt and grime of your past. After messaging Vox, you entered, marveling at the unexpected upgrade. How had you managed to elevate your circumstances so easily?

Lying back on the bed, you gazed up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of your new life. You were seeking refuge, had become Val’s plaything, narrowly escaped abuse because of a cranky TV man who wouldn’t even look at you. What an absurd turn of events—what the hell was happening?

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you changed into comfortable clothes, the tension of the day beginning to ebb away. Just as sleep began to weave its way into your mind, a soft chime from your phone startled you awake. Vox had messaged you, detailing the new daily routine you would follow to assist him. 

Setting an alarm, you nestled into bed, uncertainty swirling in your thoughts like a restless storm. What would the next day bring? Would it be more of the same, or perhaps a glimmer of hope in this hellish landscape? As you drifted off, the questions lingered, weaving through your dreams like shadows, leaving you on the brink of something you couldn’t yet comprehend.

------------------------Time Skip-------------------------

Vox quickly grew to love your company over the last three years, though Vox knew deep down that you weren’t the woman he had loved in his youth. You were almost her replica—a haunting echo of the past—but with a wilder, more untamed spirit. As he watched you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief, he found himself drawn to that wildness even more. It was as if fate had conspired to create you just for him, a masterpiece crafted by your great-grandmother’s whims.

Yet, he never dared to reveal this connection, fearing it might shatter the fragile friendship that had blossomed between you. Yes, friendship—nothing more or less. However, with each passing day, he found himself surrendering to the undeniable truth that he had fallen for you harder than he ever had for your great-grandmother. 

No matter how many times he insisted that he was merely helping an old friend, a beacon of support for someone who had been torn from him, he couldn’t deny the intoxicating pull you had on him. At first, it had been your striking looks that captivated him, but as time wore on, it was your vibrant personality that ensnared his heart. You were everything Vox craved and needed on a biblical level; an irony he chuckled at, considering he hadn’t picked up a Bible since your great-grandmother had left him.

His mind was spiraling, his hypnosis streams were intensifying, and his push for innovative Vox tech was reaching a fever pitch. He even managed to score a narrow victory against Alastor, all thanks to you. How could one person be so perfectly oblivious to the advances he so desperately tried to make?

No one had ever worn his watches, draped themselves in his jackets, or even held his cherished pocket squares—except for you. But a troubling realization swept over him: all the advances he made were rooted in his time period, not yours. Your great-grandmother may have swooned at his charm, but you probably saw him as nothing more than a friend. In that moment, he knew he was utterly doomed.

You genuinely enjoyed working for Vox, relishing the opportunity to utilize your strengths. With a degree in entertainment and public relations, you found it easy to navigate the world of hypnotic persuasion he wielded. You were a wizard at uncovering people’s weak spots, providing Vox with ample ammunition against his personal enemies.

Almost immediately, you had become Vox’s young, gorgeous vixen. You liked the title so much that you gradually stopped using your real name, opting instead for the playful 'V' theme. Yet, Vox never referred to you by that name—always your real name, accompanied by a distant look that gnawed at your insides.

It had taken a year for him to truly see you, another year for him to stop freezing like a computer caught in a loop, and now, in this last year, he finally spoke without those awkward buffering noises. 

You never understood why he had chosen you as his assistant if he struggled to be around you. But you were content, especially since you had escaped Valentino’s grasp. You felt lucky that the exterminations had ceased shortly after you joined Vox. You often reassured yourself that if they ever resumed, you would leave—but the truth was, you were too attached to the enigmatic, awkward TV man.

You couldn’t deny the chemistry crackling between the two of you. He sent sparks racing through your body, igniting your nervous system with a thrilling energy. He was handsome in a classic, old-school way, the type of man your father would approve of—if only they never got to know he was a con artist. 

Every fiber of your being screamed to be with him, to unravel the layers of his soul and understand him in a way that transcended mere friendship. He was smooth-talking, undeniably hot, and invading your dreams more each night, leaving you craving his presence even more. The tension hung thick in the air, a tantalizing promise of what could be, if only you dared to cross the line that separated friendship from something infinitely more profound.

It was utterly embarrassing—sneaking down to the old production studio, heart racing, just to rent out some toys that would let you indulge in your fantasies of being with Vox. He had never once hypnotized you, but you were undeniably under his spell, enchanted by his presence in every way.

“Vox, I got you the meeting with Carmilla about the angelic steel and its reproduction,” you announced, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. “I also secured a meeting with the health district to discuss the drug you want to utilize.” You had become extra vigilant lately, making a concerted effort to show him your interest. Your skirts grew shorter, your tops had fewer buttons, and your heels reached dizzying heights, showcasing your legs to their best advantage.

You were the death of him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his composure crumbled completely. You were tantalizingly close, yet he felt he couldn’t take advantage of your affections. The scars from his past ran deep; he didn’t want to go through that kind of heartache again. Even if your father couldn’t steal you away like your great-grandmother had been stolen from him, the odd connection to family made him reluctant to risk your bond.

But the way you presented yourself, dressed to entice, sent a tent of desire straining against the fabric of his pants. It felt as though he was being dragged through heaven, hell, and every place in between. He knew you were in hell in your own way, unlike your great-grandmother, but damn, did you have to be so deliciously tempting?

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll be getting off early today due to an issue with Val. If you could make sure the cleaners come in here and do their job properly, I’d appreciate it,” he said, his voice calm and cool, eyes never lifting from the screen. 

He was an enigma, nearly impossible to crack, seemingly showing no interest in you at all. Sighing, you nodded and began clearing his schedule; his fights with Val tended to stretch on longer than they should. You made sure to leave a dinner reminder for him and then headed out to retrieve the cleaning staff.

When you returned, you monitored the cleaning process closely. Vox usually preferred his tech to handle the cleaning, but today he insisted that his computers and TVs needed a “Sinners touch” to avoid any mishaps. You settled into his large chair, humming softly, legs crossed, watching as the young, fish-like boy worked diligently.

Out of the corner of your eye, a faint blue glow caught your attention. Vox was typically meticulous about shutting everything down before leaving, yet this one tab remained open. Half of you wanted to close it and move on with your life, but the other half—the curious, daring part—couldn’t resist the temptation. 

With a deep breath, you opened the screen. A Word document sprawled across the display, pages filled with dates and passages that traced the evolution of technology from its inception to the present. Your heart raced as you scrolled through the text, but then you froze, eyes fixated on the most recent passage. 

It was a detailed account of his current hyperfixation – You. As you read on, the implications began to sink in, filling you with a mix of excitement and dread. What had Vox been planning? And how deeply did it truly involve you? 

‘She was a vision of beauty, captivating in a way that made my heart race and my thoughts spiral into chaos. I found myself wanting to take her, to make her mine in every way possible—over my bed, on the couch, against the cool surface of the counter, or sprawled across my desk. It was a reckless desire, one that threatened to unravel my composure and resolve with each passing glance. I was trying to court her like a proper gentleman, even though every instinct screamed for me to act on the primal urge that surged within me.’

‘What would she think if I finally confessed the truth? The truth of the connection that shimmered between us, electric and undeniable. If I bared my soul, revealing the reason why every time I looked at her, I felt an insatiable longing to claim her and never let her go—would she recoil in fear, or would she lean in closer? Would she despise me for the dark secrets I harbored?’

‘It was a sin, a tangled web of emotions, that I saved her not just because I had to, but because I had once been in love with her great-grandmother. If only it were simple to tell Y/N that my heart had shifted over the years, that the ghost of the past no longer haunted me as I found myself enchanted by her. I needed to steady my racing heart, but the hope of seeing more of Y/N today filled me with both excitement and dread. She had left a dinner reservation for two—was it meant for us, or was it for Val and me? My heart leaped at the possibility that it was for her and I.’

You were in shock. A torrent of questions flooded your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. How did he know your great-grandmother? How had he concealed this attraction so skillfully? The cleaner’s approach broke your reverie, and the scream that escaped your lips echoed through the building, a cacophony of confusion and fear.

With a heavy sigh, you closed everything down, your thoughts still swirling like leaves caught in a wind tunnel. You gently patted the shorter fish boy’s head, his wide eyes filled with fear and uncertainty mirroring your own. As you made your way back to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you.

He knew her? You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rifling through the foggy memories of your childhood, the faded photographs that lined the walls of your mind. Your great-grandmother had passed away when your grandmother was still a child, but her belongings remained—a bittersweet reminder of a life once lived. Vaguely, you recalled a picture that had often sparked your great-grandfather's ire.

Vox was in that picture… Vox, her first love, the man who had been banished by her father, the one your great-grandfather had despised and vowed to protect his family from. He was the specter who haunted your past, a figure you were compared to when you were disowned from the family and stripped of your inheritance.

The realization hit you like a thunderclap, shattering your understanding of everything you thought you knew. How did you feel? The attraction was still there, a flicker of warmth igniting within you as you considered his little habits, the subtle ways he courted you, filling you with butterflies. But could you allow yourself to love him? Would it be wrong to care for him in that way?

You glanced at your tablet, your heart racing as you noticed the dinner reservation was in just forty-five minutes. Swallowing hard, you stood up, a newfound determination coursing through your veins. The only way to truly understand what he made you feel, to unravel this complex web of emotions, was to show up. Normally, these reservations were for Val and him, a ritual of reconciliation, but this time, you would be there for him. For you. 

You moved quickly, the anticipation coursing through your veins as you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over you like a refreshing embrace. With each drop, you washed away the remnants of your uncertainties, emerging with a renewed sense of purpose. 

Dressing became an art form; you pulled out all the stops to impress Vox. The deep ruby red pumps clicked against the floor as you slipped them on, a bold statement that added height and confidence to your stature. Black frilled lace-topped stockings clung to your legs, accentuating every curve. The navy blue long-sleeved dress hugged your figure just right, revealing just enough to showcase your best assets without losing an air of elegance. You styled your hair to perfection, cascading waves framing your face, while your makeup highlighted your features, making your eyes sparkle like stars.

It had been ages since you had gone to such lengths, not since the days of trying to impress Val, desperate to avoid his inappropriate advances. With a sigh, you shot a quick message to Vox, sharing the restaurant's destination but omitting any mention of Val. Tonight was about you and Vox, and you were determined to make the most of it.

As you stepped out of your door, your Vox Tech security bot awaited you, its sleek design a reminder of the world you inhabited. Vox had insisted on the device escorting you, and as you arrived at the restaurant, your eyes locked with Vox’s as he just arrived as well. Time seemed to pause as you both stood there, taking each other in.

To him, you were radiant, every inch of you exuding beauty and allure. His desires surged within him, overwhelming as he imagined symphonies and angelic choirs serenading your presence in this chaotic world. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but admire his dashing figure. Though a hard day had worn on him, leaving traces of fatigue etched across his handsome features, he maintained an effortless charm. A few buttons of his shirt were undone, his cuffs slightly askew, and in that moment, you realized something profound: tonight, he would be yours, and you would be his, come what may.

A soft smile danced on your lips as you reached for his outstretched arm, feeling a rush of warmth as you entered the restaurant together. The high-end staff treated you like royalty, ushering you to a table draped in elegant linens. Once seated, you glanced up at Vox through your lashes, your expression teasing as you playfully toyed with the rim of your wine glass.

“I know about our family ties…” you said, watching as his eyes widened in surprise, a dark blush creeping across his cheeks. Was he embarrassed that you knew, or perhaps flustered by the undeniable attraction that pulsed between you? 

“I want you to know, connection or not, I feel it all too,” you added, punctuating your statement with a sly wink. His composure faltered, and you could see him short-circuiting, lost in the implications of your words.

Once he regained his composure, a soft smile broke across his face, his eyes flickering nervously as he tried to avoid the luxurious curves that had him entranced. “So this means I can finally stop dancing around and court you more publicly?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his gaze.

You couldn’t help but snort, shaking your head with a smirk. “I think we’ve passed the stage of courting, Mr. Bed, Couch, Counter, and Desk.” Your cheeks warmed at your own boldness, while his face flamed with embarrassment at your teasing. A soft giggle escaped you as you flagged down the waiter, paying for the wine that would accompany your evening.

“Let’s head back to the tower, Vox… let me help you relax after today’s tiring events.” The confidence that surged within you was intoxicating, fueled by the way he looked at you and the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air. 

You had dreamed of this moment, of nights alone together, your hand tucked beneath you in hopes of relief, but it had never been enough. Each day spent near him only deepened your addiction to the awkward yet captivating man. But with the dark, calculating look in his eyes, you knew that from this moment forward, you would be more than satisfied. 

As the evening unfolded, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—two souls entwined in a dance of desire, ready to explore the depths of your connection, past and present, together. 

A chill raced down your spine as you and he stepped into his work car, the evening air thick with anticipation. He wanted to wait until you were safely hidden away in his condo before his hands roamed your body, but the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. As the engine purred to life, his fingers found their way to your thigh, gently caressing the soft fabric of your stockings. You could feel his gaze on you, hungry and intense, as you breathed heavily, caught in the electrifying moment. He was eager to claim you as his own, to make you his in every sense.

The drive felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out as his hand danced tantalizingly close to where you craved him most. You were ablaze with desire, the thrill of his touch igniting something deep within you that had lay dormant for far too long. No one had ever made you feel this way—caught between the living and the dead, lost in a whirlwind of longing and need. You were ready to surrender completely to the man beside you, to give him every part of yourself.

When the car finally came to a halt, all semblance of self-control shattered. In one swift motion, he pulled you over the center console and into his lap, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath away. One hand tangled possessively in your hair while the other gripped your waist, asserting his dominance in a way that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

You mirrored his urgency, your fingers gripping his shoulder and the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Every kiss, every whisper of his breath against your skin, sent jolts of electricity sparking through your nerves, making you whimper into his mouth. You could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against you, a reflection of the heated chemistry that crackled between you.

With his patience wearing thin, he pulled away, but only long enough to fling open the car door. He was acutely aware of your head as he stepped out, holding you firmly against him, making his way through the throng of Vee staff and personnel. There was no hesitation in his stride; he made it abundantly clear that you were his and his alone, a declaration that sent a thrill coursing through you.

As you rode the elevator, the air thickened with tension and need. He pressed you against the cool metal wall, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you fervently, over and over again. His hands roamed your body with a glorious sensuality, and you could hear the soft moans and whimpers escaping him, reverberating in your chest like a sweet melody.

When the elevator doors finally opened, it was as if you were stepping into a dream. He swept you up in his arms, never breaking contact with your warmth or your mouth. With a careful grace, he navigated the threshold of his condo, ensuring you never brushed against anything sharp or hard, as if he wanted to preserve this fragile moment forever. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other, ready to explore the depths of your desire.

The sensations heightened once you two entered his bedroom as he gently set you on the bed. He was careful to lay you down, slotting himself between your legs. He hummed quietly in the kiss as he enjoyed the feeling and taste of you. You were, finally, his, and he could have you all he wanted here. You offered no protests.

You raked your hands over his arms and chest, slipping behind his back, scratching gently with your nails on any skin you could find. Vox's sounds, the same frequent heat, and need, were identical to yours. Everything begged you to take your clothes off and take him.

Vox pulled away, looking down at you for the first time since tonight's escapades began. A sloppy, lopsided grin was on his face as he moved the hair from your face. "Are you sure you want this doll?"

You gave him one soft nod, and all bets were off. Before you could utter another word, a moan was pulled from your lips as he kissed down your neck and pulled on the base of your hair. Soft pants left you, and you felt the tension pool in your core. How long have you two wanted this?

Sighing softly and pushing into Vox's clothed crotch, he growled low and kissed you roughly. Hands roamed your body, and your dress was slowly unclasped from your body. Your chest became exposed, and the most beautiful red bra he had ever seen was on display upon your delicate body. Even Val's porn stars had nothing on the sight of you half undressed before him.

As if dreams were becoming reality, he shivered as you slowly pushed his jacket off and tugged him down by his dress shirt. Kissing him, you worked on his buttons, running your hands along his torso once it was freed. Both of you shivered in delight and need as the other touched what was finally theirs.

Vox kissed back down your neck, leaving marks all across you, and landed on your breasts. Each one gets a solid mark right on the top where your cleavage sat. His lips teased the sensitive flesh. His arms snaked around you as he lifted you gently to unclasp the bra. Once it was off, he could feel the drool not only on his tongue but his cock head as well.

He hummed in delight as he bowed down and wrapped his blue tongue around one perky bud, the other gaining his talons' attention as he made you mewl for him. He was in heaven—here, right now, was his little heaven with his little angel. He switched between the two buds until they were too sensitive from his menstruation. "V-Vox, please, too much...need more...please..." You didn't mean to sound like a young virgin, but it was all too good to feel any other type of way. Soon, you felt the pressure above you leave as he stood up at the edge of the bed. Gently, he took your leg, resting your foot on his chest. He kissed your ankle and calf, taking your tights from the garter on your thigh. Slowly, he took the garments off and got a perfect sight right up your dress. Your pretty red underwear was stained wet from your need.

"Tell me, Y/N, where do you need me most? What do you need most? Tell me, and I will happily deliver it all to you, doll, whatever you need." He sounded so good saying that. His voice was an octave lower as he was already pussy drunk. You whimpered gently and sighed when he moved on to the next leg, removing the garments

"Need you between my legs Vox, so so many toys...none of them you," Your words sent a spark through him. He now understood today's argument with Val; some toys in the production studio had been missing, and his little Vixen took them. He smiled wide and fell to his knees at the edge of the bed.

"Your wish is my command, doll," He grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him. He shoved your dress up higher on your hips, having it bunch up on your stomach. Slowly, he ran a claw down your clothed heat. With each stroke of his claw, his mouth moved closer from your knee to your core. He always managed to miss where you wanted him most, though.

When you went to complain, however, you were interrupted by the cold sting to your cunt as he ripped the panties off completely. You gasped and cried out when Vox's long slender blue tongue licked a deep stripe up your soaking cunt. "Taste so good, doll, like my own apple pie, so fucking delicious," His menstruations didn't stop there, however, as Vox began to devour you like a man starved.

Your legs spread wider for him as he slotted himself against your cunt. His tongue was making circles on your puffy bud. Your head was thrown back as you grasped onto the bed for dear life. You needed him. Each tongue swirls and thrusts, sending you one step closer to your breaking point. At some point, your legs began to close, and all you could feel was a thread snapping. Vox didn't let up, though. If anything, he abused your clit and sucked you dry further.

When you began to cry and beg for relief, he stopped and pulled up, climbing back on top of you and kissing you hungrily. You could taste yourself on him as you felt his need press against your cunt. You needed more. "Please, Vox, take me, please, please; I need to be full and stuffed."

He thought he had heard angels earlier. He was dead wrong. What he heard then and was now hearing were two completely different planes of reality. He made quick work of his pants and boxers as you resituated on the bed. He slowly crawled back over you, kissing you deeply again. When he got between your legs and slotted himself right where you needed him, you moaned quietly.

Slowly, Vox entered you, both holding your breaths and breathing out together. He was so big, filling you to the brim while you were tight on him. He finally opened his eyes when he bottomed out and saw the most beautiful sight. Your tummy bulged out where his cock sat. Groaning in need, he pushed down on the bump and growled. "Oh, look at this baby, look at how deep I am, I will fill you up so full."

You cried, nodding, holding on to him for dear life. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He felt so thick and full as he abused your cunt with his deliberate speed. However, you knew he was coming to an end as well; he was pent up just as long as you were, and as his hips stuttered, you finally felt it, the whole feeling you had wished for since seeing the TV man.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, keeping himself slotted in you. He held your hand close, playing with your hair. "Stay with me, Y/N, let me give you everything after life can offer."

You hummed softly and nodded, your eyes growing heavy. Life with Vox would be perfect, and you couldn't have been happier that you, Y/N L/N, got to live the carefree life your great-grandmama once wished for.