#i like mixing ghost's white eye and something's black

[clumsybriar]

Simon “Ghost” Riley X GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Notes: if you see any error please feel free to let me know! I made another Gender Neutral for Christmas! (If you see any mistakes with gender for the reader please let me know, I want to make sure I fix it so everyone can enjoy!)

Word count: 1340

Warnings: None!

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Christmas season was upon you. The wait was no longer needed and the holiday season was in full throttle for many people. But for you it felt like the holidays just weren’t here yet, not without Simon.

It had been months since you last saw Simon. The countdown had been brutal — each day dragging on like a century, filled with empty space and a gnawing ache in your chest. The last words he’d said to you were promises, hollow at the time. But now, somehow, a beacon of hope. Especially for you.

“I’ll be back for Christmas, I swear on it.”

You hadn’t expected it to be easy. Life with Simon Riley had always been an unpredictable blend of intensity and distance, but there was something about it this time that just felt…different.

It could have stemmed from many different things, truly. Like there was something about the way he’d held you the night before he left, the unspoken words in his eyes as he kissed you goodbye at the airport.

Maybe it was just the fact that the holidays made everything feel more…amplified.

Like the empty chair at your dinner table, or the lonely flicker of Christmas lights on the tree.

But today just felt different. Like something magical was truly going to happen like some sort of Christmas miracle. Which is kinda cheesy to think about. But you couldn’t help it, you just felt a flicker of hope. Who would blame you for holding onto that flicker of hope.

People always said miracles happen on Christmas and you hoped just this once, it would happen. Even if it was on Christmas Eve.

You found yourself standing in front of your front door, staring at the snow falling softly outside. The world felt quiet, calm, and still. In your opinion it was too still. You glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last hour and you could just tell the hands in the clock seemed to mock you, ticking by at a pace that made the seconds feel like years.

Your attention was quickly drawn away though, when suddenly a car door slammed. It was then followed by the unmistakable sound of boots crunching through the snow. Something you had heard often when Simon was coming home in the winter. Though he wasn’t grumbling or complaining like he usually did.

You knew he hated winter, the cold wasn’t his favorite. He hated how it set deep into his bones, sometimes making him feel like he couldn’t warm up. He dealt with it though because deep down you knew he liked to have a white Christmas.

The crunching of snow got closer. Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t help it but to step closer toward the door, breath catching in your throat. Your hand reached forward for the doorknob and when you opened it, there he was…

Simon.

His face was partially obscured by the shadow of his balaclava, but you’d recognize that broad frame and those piercing brown eyes anywhere. His tactical gear was gone, replaced by a simple black hoodie and faded jeans. His duffel bag hung over one shoulder, snowflakes settling on his mask and on his shoulders decorating him for the vast winter wonderland.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He just stood there, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to believe you were real. If you were being honest you felt the same and maybe wondered if you had too much eggnog in your system.

You were the first to move, closing the distance between you in an instant. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His scent, that familiar mix of sweat, leather, and something uniquely him, filled your senses.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Simon’s arms tightened around you, his usual stoicism giving way to something raw. “Had to make sure I did,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Couldn’t miss this… couldn’t miss you. Plus I’m pretty sure I promised you I’d be home.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand coming to rest against his jaw. His eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your gaze, something soft and vulnerable lingering there — a look you’d rarely seen from him.

“Been waiting for you,” you said, your thumb brushing over the area where his scar was located on his cheek, the mark you’d kissed so many times in the past. Now it was still covered in that balaclava he loved so much. “I thought I’d go crazy without you.”

He let out a breath, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the ache in your chest. “Don’t apologize, Simon. Just… just be here. Be with me.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world outside might have been freezing, but here, in this moment, it felt like time had stopped entirely — just the two of you, finally reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

“You got the tree up,” Simon said, glancing over your shoulder at the twinkling lights and the ornaments hanging from the branches.

You smiled sheepishly. “I tried. Thought I’d have someone to help me decorate it, but…” you trailed off, your voice thick with unspoken words.

Simon’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah, I get it.” He gently lifted his balaclava above his nose as you could see his red lips which were surely chapped due to the weather and his mask.

He leaned forward, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that made everything else in the world fade away, leaving nothing but the feeling of him — your Simon — finally home. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding you in ways words could never explain.

When he pulled back, he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

You laughed softly, pulling him inside. “Merry Christmas, big guy. You almost missed it,” you teased, “but I guess you made it just in the nick of time.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He raised an eyebrow, a rare glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him, then turned back to him, finally feeling like the holiday season had begun. Christmas had never meant much to you before — not without him. But now, with Simon standing here, his presence filling the room with something warmer than the heat from the fireplace, everything felt right.

You let go of his hand only for a moment to grab something from the kitchen. “I made dinner,” you said, glancing back over your shoulder. “You hungry? If I know you the answer is yes.”

Simon chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe…yes.” He gave you a teasing look, one that made your heart flutter. “I am starving.”

“Figured as much, they don’t feed you enough do they?” you shot back with a grin. “They’re starving you, all my hard work of feeding you well has gone down the drain.”

Simon’s expression softened, and for a long moment, you both stood there, the weight of everything that had happened — the long deployments, the fears, the missed moments — evaporating in the warmth of the room. He was home with you.

“Yeah, look at me,” he teased, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite place, but it was good. “Skin and bone, not fluffy and cuddly.”

And as the night carried on, you and Simon settled together on the couch, the tree lights casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside seemed so far away, and for the first time in a long time, there was peace.

This Christmas, you had everything you needed. Simon, home where he belonged.

[some-mari-thoughts]

The neighborhood ghost

Waaaa! I loved reading the artbook so much, and Mari's page had everything I ever needed to see

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[ghostaholics]

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader

➸ CHOKING: he doesn't squeeze that hard – just applies enough pressure the way you like it until that familiar glassy-eyed expression falls over your face, something lust-addled; he always uses his left arm, the one that's all tatted up, consists of intricate pieces he's collected over time until it's formed an elaborate black and white collage that’s inked into his skin – he enjoys seeing how you try to enclose two hands over the entirety of his muscled forearm but can't quite round off the circumference of it, not even trying to get him to pry his grip from your throat, but to keep him there and occasionally prompt him for a little bit more constriction if you need it (❝ Look so fuckin' good like this, don’t you love? ❞)

➸ FAVORITE POSITIONS: anything that can get him as deep inside you as possible, bottomed-out so that he can watch you take every thick inch of him which includes, but is not limited to

(1) mating press or any other variation of it – basically an aggressive 'missionary-style' that gives him the advantage of pile-driving into you, will try to ease your legs onto his shoulders for as long as you can handle it; also likes this because he can still see your eyes roll back in between thrusts when he just grinds into your cunt for a bit while he takes a break and plays with your clit (❝ Greedy cunt's just swallowin' me whole, innit? ❞)

(2) face-down, ass-up - has to pull on your hair a little so you bring your head up to make sure your mouth's not muffled by the pillow (he needs to hear each long, drawn-out moan he can get from you every time he brushes up against that special spot inside you); very primal and powerful, allows him the opportunity to see the arch of your back like this while he's gripping onto your hips for leverage but it's also just so fucking tight and deep (❝ You can take it all, can't you, sweetheart? Yeah, that's my girl. ❞)

➸ DIRTY TALK: typically more reserved in day-to-day conversation, had to work up to being vocal in the bedroom, which now consists of a diverse mixture of low groans, lots of swearing (fuck, shite, or whatever other word that accurately expresses everything he's feeling when he hasn't got a single coherent bloody thought at the moment), as well as any filth like

❝ Gotta stretch you out – work you open on my fingers… Y’know it’d be a shame to wreck this tight, little cunt before I’ve had my fill. ❞

❝ Can’t wait ‘til you milk every last drop of cum from my cock, love. ❞

❝ Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please.’ Let me hear you beg for it. ❞

❝ Christ, I’m gonna flood this fuckin’ cunt. ❞

❝ Do I look like I’m done? Lettin’ my cum leak out… I don’t think so sweetheart. Gotta fuck it back into you now. ❞

❝ Again – love, I'm not stopping until I get another one outta you. So be a good girl and fuckin' come for me. ❞

➸ SPITTING: has a few places he’s fond of; will lift up his mask just above his mouth in order to make it happen

(1) in your mouth, tongue held out in anticipation – he discovers that you’ve got a thing for spit play after a particularly hungry and feverish kiss that has him starving for you, swallowing down your moans, and when he pulls away there’s sort of a wet, glossy little sheen left behind on your lips that you run your tongue over; so, you ask him if he can spit in your mouth because you feel like you need more than just a kiss – he obliges because it reminds him of his cum on your tongue after he asks you where you want him to finish sometimes

(2) on your pussy – absolutely no valid reason for this other than the fact that he really likes rubbing his spit into your cunt and watching it mix with the slickness in between your legs just to make an even bigger mess than the one that’s already there

(3) in his hand, covering his palm – uses it to coat his cock with a few passes over the length of it with his fist, a few harsh tugs at his shaft and a smear of his precum at the head; doesn't really have to because you're wet enough (still wishes he had the opportunity to get you completely fucking soaked, except the circumstances won't allow it), but he's pressed for time, knows it won't be better than the natural lubrication of your own arousal and doesn't care too much since the idea of it makes him that much harder right before he slides on home into your cunt

➸ EATING YOU OUT: he loves it, needs it; heaven between your legs, groans whenever he gets a taste of you, can't resist grabbing handfuls of your ass to bring you impossibly closer to his mouth, tongue flattening and stroking and licking its way into your cunt as you rock down, hips rolling, squirming under the iron-clad grip he's got on your thighs – craves the hot slick rushing out of you, doesn't want to waste a single drop but can't control the way your orgasm liquefies into a sticky and clear wetness that paints his lips and his chin (❝ C’mere. Gonna have you make a mess on my face. ❞ )

➸ DACRYPHILIA: when you're wrought with overstimulation, so, so sensitive after he's ripped the first few orgasms from you – tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a stinging, burning sensation growing in your throat as you try to tamp it down until the first wayward drops of brackish water escape, rolling over your cheeks unsolicited not because the sex hurt but because it was too good and you can't sort out the knotted tangle of emotions you harbor for simon; he asks in a rough and hoarse voice if you're okay, brushes the tears away in a questioning gesture with scarred knuckles until you admit exactly what the cause is, which elicits a deep moan from him signaling that he might just give you another reason to cry

➸ TEASING: rubs the head of his cock against the entrance of your awaiting cunt, back and forth, slowly, just so he can hear you whining impatiently for him to put it in because you hate the feeling of being empty; maybe you should ask nicely, try being polite – it might be the solution to putting an end to your misery

[nanamis-baker]

Blunt Blade

Summary: You come home from work to find Nanami cleaning his blade, but the blade is used for something else.

Pairing: sorcerer! Nanami x reader

Content: Nsfw, 18+ only, Smut, light bondage + blindfold, riding object, edging, creampie, light spanking, choking and more?

WC: 5.2k (I get carried away)

a/n: I woke up horny with this idea, so this is mainly self-indulgence but I kind of went overboard with it so yeah...

Also, it's proofread, but I was enjoying a pizza while proofreading it so don't trust my words lmaooo.

But I hope you'll enjoy it! Happy reading!!

Your keys jingled a soft melody as you unlocked the front door, the familiar scent of home washing over you like a warm embrace. Stepping inside, you caught sight of Nanami through the living room doorway. He sat on the plush couch, bathed in the warm glow of the lamplight, meticulously wrapping his freshly cleaned blade in a new white and black cloth. The movements seemed to slow as you entered. He finished wrapping his blade, securing it behind his back with ease, the muscles of his arms bunching momentarily beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He rose to his feet, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze drifted down your form, a boldness replacing its usual stoicism. A slow smirk played on your lips. You'd chosen the right outfit today – a simple black silk dress that skimmed your curves, the hem ending just above your knees.

He made his way towards you as you slipped off your shoes. Ever the gentleman, Nanami knelt before you and helped you out of your heels, unbuckling the straps as you held onto his shoulders for support. He stood up and helped you remove your coat, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder, sending a shiver through you. His eyes met yours, clouded by a dark intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You look beautiful, darling," he murmured, his voice husky as his fingers toyed with the thin strap of the dress. "Was it something special today?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. His other hand trailed up your body, a slow exploration that travelled from your thighs to your hips before settling on the small of your back, pulling you against his hard body with a possessiveness that thrilled you.

"No, just running some errands," you hummed, a slight tremor running through your voice as his hand moved in soothing circles over your lower back. The strap of your dress now rested precariously against your upper arm, exposing the tempting swell of your chest. Nanami's finger trailed a teasing path down your collarbone, sending goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He was close - so close to you. His cologne, mixed with a hint of aftershave and sweat, surrounded you, a heady mixture that went straight to your core.

"Did it include distracting me, by any chance?" he murmured as his lips ghosted over your shoulder. His breath was hot against your neck, sending a delicious heat blossoming in your chest. "Because trust me, beautiful," he continued, his voice husky and laced with desire, "it's working.”

Before you could reply, Nanami closed the distance between you, your lips clashing against each other’s. His kiss wasn't gentle. It was a searing brand - his lips hot against yours, the taste of vanilla from the lip balm you'd swiped earlier tingling on your tongue.

His hands, so sure and confident, roamed all over the curves of your body with a hungry urgency. One hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing a demanding path across your cheek and your jawline. The other found the bare skin of your back, sending a gasp escaping your lips. Your reaction encouraged Nanami as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding further into your mouth.

You clung to him, your own hands tangled in his hair, the strands so soft against your fingertips. You pressed yourself impossibly closer, returning his kiss with equal desperation, the frantic thud of your heart hammering a wild rhythm against his chest. A sliver of moonlight speared through the window, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw. A soft whimper escaped your throat, causing Nanami to groan into the kiss.

He tore himself away from your lips, leaving you gasping for air. Your chest heaved in ragged unison with his as his lips trailed down your jaw. His breath tickled your skin, as a tingle danced all over your body. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, and you tilted your head back instinctively, offering him easier access. A strangled whimper escaped your lips as he nipped at the soft flesh, leaving a mark, the sharp sting barely registering through the haze of desire.

Soon enough, the other strap of your dress followed the same fate as the first one, leaving no support for your flimsy dress as it barely hung loosely around your chest. Nanami's hand, warm and calloused, brushed against your bare arm as he guided you towards the couch. A single, deliberate tug sent the dress cascading down your body in a slow, silent swirl, leaving the cool material to pool around your ankles.

Nanami’s gaze, heated and hungry, devoured you, taking in every inch of your body. His fingers brushed against your cheekbone as he said, “Turn around darling, I am not done looking at you,” his voice, tender yet commanding, echoed through you, causing you to follow instantly as you turned about, your back towards him.

You felt his heated gaze all over your back, your knees turning weak under his gaze, but a flicker of shyness bloomed in your chest. Maybe it was the vulnerability of your exposed back or the lack of any reaction on his face after his bold request. Heat crept up your skin, a blush not just of desire but of a sudden, unexpected hesitancy.

The warmth of Nanami's clothed chest pressed against your bare back, the fabric of his shirt and the leather of his suspenders feeling rough against your sensitive skin. His hands trailed down your arms, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His breath, hot and ragged, tickled the shell of your ear. "Feeling shy now, huh?" His voice was a husky murmur, laced with a hint of amusement that sent a pang of something… unexpected… straight to your core.

He continued, his nose nuzzling into the soft, heated skin of your neck, "We both know how you get when you are under me."

With a swift movement, he flipped you around and pushed you onto the couch. A gasp escaped your lips as you sank into the soft cushions. He hovered above you, his gaze devouring your skin, flushed with need - need for him. His warm hands trailed down your body, a deliberate exploration that sent electricity humming through you.

His touch lingered on the waistband of your underwear, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. He gently tugged the waistband, his eyes meeting yours, “Is this okay?” he asked, a request for permission - a shift in dynamics. The ball was in your court now.

But you wanted the ball to remain in his court only.

You nodded in reply, a little too eager. Nanami smirked, “Use your words, beautiful.” You groaned, frustrated, as you said, “Yes, Ken, it’s okay - more than okay.”

Satisfied with your answer, Nanami removed the fabric with a single, slow tug, sending the garment sliding down your legs, pooling around your ankles.

He latched onto your body, trailing kisses all over your skin. His kisses were a wildfire, trailing flames down your neck and across your collarbone - a delicious reminder of your raw vulnerability in his hands. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin behind your ear, a spark igniting where they met. His hand dipped lower, a slow, deliberate exploration that mapped the landscape of your body.

Nanami was on his knees now, settled between your legs, as he looked at your soaked core. His thumb traced your slit, the touch feather-light, causing you to hiss, “So wet already? We have barely begun, baby.” His lips met the soft skin of your inner thigh, and he bit down, hard, eliciting a choked gasp from your lips. His lips and teeth continued leaving their marks all over your thighs, while his thumb teased your wet slit, brushing over it, barely giving you the friction you craved.

“Kento, please, it’s t-too much,” you moaned out, desperation clear in your voice as you tugged his hair, pushing him towards your core.

“Darling, I haven’t even done anything,” he murmured against your skin, before his thumb found your clit, drawing tight circles over it. A loud moan escaped your lips as he teased your clit and his tongue plunged into your core, twisting and curling, brushing against all the right spots.

His tongue was soon replaced by his fingers, and he inserted two fingers inside you. “Fuck, Kento, just like that,” you breathed out, your head thrown back against the couch. Nanami smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. He added another finger, and you felt so full - so good - as he leaned down, using his other hand to spread your fold apart before giving your clit a hard suck, making your head spin.

He retracted his finger, leaving you empty, before his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him and burrowing his face into your folds. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling and pushing, as heat coiled low in your belly, a delicious ache that spread through your limbs.

He continued this, using his fingers, lips, tongue and thumb to his aid till you were falling apart under him, cumming all over his face and mouth, moaning so loudly that for a moment, you were afraid the neighbours would hear it.

But who cared about the neighbours when you had this hot, amazing man between your legs?

Nanami continued till the last wave of your orgasm faded away before he pulled back and licked his fingers clean, moaning appreciatively at your taste. He used your inner thigh to wipe away your wetness from his face, his nose and mouth brushing against the delicate skin.

A fresh wave of arousal hit you at that sight.

Nanami rose abruptly, breaking the heated contact. He stood tall, his form a silhouette against the dim light of the living room. Your breath hitched as you gazed up at his imposing figure, a delicious tremor running through you. He looked down at you, taking in your flushed body sprawled on the couch, his gaze lingering on all the places where he left his mark.

He didn't hesitate. In a swift movement, he scooped you up, the warmth of his body enveloping you as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands wrapping around his broad shoulders.

The kiss that followed was pure fire. His lips met yours with a demanding urgency, the taste of him causing you to groan loudly into the kiss. He held you tightly, his grip sending shivers down your spine as he carried you towards the bedroom. The buckle of his belt felt unforgivingly cold against your hot core, causing you to hiss against his lips. The room seemed to tilt, the world shrinking to just the two of you and the fierce heat building between you.

He lowered you onto the bed, the soft mattress enveloping you in its warmth. He lingered for a moment, his breath hot against your cheek as he grazed your forehead with a soft kiss. Then he pulled away, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

Reaching behind his back, he removed his blunt blade that was hooked to his suspenders. A dull thud echoed in the quiet room as he set it down on the nightstand beside the bed. Then, his hands found the buckle of his belt, the leather groaning softly as he removed it from the loops of his pants.

He paused, the belt dangling in his hand. A slow smile played on his lips as his gaze held yours. Anticipation crackled in the air, thick and electric. Without a word, he looped the belt through the buckle and extended the belt towards you. Understanding dawned quickly in your eyes. A thrill shot through you, a delicious mix of fear, eagerness and excitement.

You offered your wrists, the pulse points throbbing beneath your skin, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the thudding of your heart in your ears. His fingers brushed against your hand as he secured the belt around the wrists, the leather tightening with a satisfying click. He tested the hold, confidence brimming in his eyes. Then, with a practised movement, he attached the remaining end of the belt to the headboard, effectively pinning your hands above your head.

His gaze travelling from your face to your toes. “You look breathtaking,” He murmured. Here you were, completely naked and bound, while he stood next to you, fully clothed and free do to whatever he wanted. A fresh wave of wetness dripped down your folds at this realisation.

Nanami reached for his tie, removing it from his neck. His fingers worked fast as he removed the knot, his eyes lingering on your eyes and neck as if deciding where to use his tie. Seeing his obvious dilemma, you offered, “Well, you can always use two ties.” Nanami chuckled, the sound dark, and he replied, “I figured my hand would look better around your throat,” and with that, he lowered the makeshift blindfold over your eyes.

"Wait, Kento," you said, and his movement halted mid-tie. He immediately moved his hand back, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his features. Before he could speak, you continued, a husky, almost breathless whisper escaping your lips, "Wanna see you first.” You moved your leg, so your toe hooked onto the waistband of his pants.

A slow smile spread across Kento's face, washing away his earlier expression. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that travelled all over your body. His fingers brushed tantalizingly over your bare leg, a possessive touch that lingered just a beat too long. "Well, I can't say no to that," he finally conceded.

He grabbed your ankle, the hold rough. With a tug, he dragged your leg down until your arms were outstretched above your head, effectively tightening the hold of the belt. His gaze met yours, a challenge glinting in his dark eyes - reminding you of who held the cards here.

He reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with slow, deliberate movements. Each button undone was a promise, a sliver of skin revealed that sent a delicious heat coursing through you. Finally, the last button yielded, the fabric falling open to expose the taut muscles of his chest. He reached for his cuffs, unbuttoning them before sliding his shirt off, leaving his upper body bare for your hungry eyes.

His gaze, intense and unwavering, never left your eyes.

"Enjoying the show, darling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your core. A slow smile played on your lips. "Oh, it’s just getting started," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

He reached for his pants, the movement sending a ripple across his sculpted torso. With a slow, fluid motion, he removed them along with his boxers. Your breath hitched as you took in the entirety of him – a masterpiece of hard muscle and smooth skin bathed in the soft, warm light.

He was so perfect, it was ridiculous. Unfair even.

You wanted to run your hands down his body and feel those muscles under your fingers, but alas, you couldn’t do that. Bound and helpless, you were at his mercy.

Soon, too soon, he reached for his tie again. This time with the practised ease of his fingers, he secured it over your eyes, plunging your world into darkness. The only sound you could hear was the ragged rasp of your breaths and the pounding of your heart, a frantic drum echoing in the sudden silence.

Your senses were heightened. You felt your wetness trickle down onto the mattress below you.

For a time, silence stretched, thick and heavy. No sound of Nanami moving. You strained to hear him, to sense his presence, but there was nothing. The anticipation was agonizing - a delicious torture.

You squirmed against the bindings, a silent protest against your helplessness. Your legs rubbed together, a small act that created a spark of friction, a faint echo of the pleasure you craved.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on your ankle, the touch rough. He yanked your legs apart, spreading them as far as they would go, the unexpected movement causing a gasp to escape your lips. The mattress between your spread legs dipped as Nanami settled in, his warmth a tangible presence against your exposed skin.

A hand suddenly landed on your clit, a loud sound echoing in your bedroom. Pain and pleasure clouded your blindfolded eyes as you whimpered. His hands landed again and again until your whimpers turned into loud, unrestricted moans and the pain subsided till only pleasure remained.

Your folds were throbbing by the time he was done, tears coating your eyelashes, your throat dry. “Enjoyed that, beautiful?” Nanami asked, his breath soothing your heated folds. You nodded as you cried out, “Yes Kento yes! I did.”

You felt him smile against your skin before you felt his tongue tease your swollen clit, causing you to buck away. His tongue soothed your clit first, before he picked up pace, his fingers joining him as he ate you out. You were moaning, your walls tightening around his fingers with each thrust, his fingers brushing and curling against all the right spots.

Just as you were about to cum, a wave of frustration washed over you as Nanami's touch abruptly faltered. His fingers, which had relentlessly danced over your clit, now slowed to a tantalizing crawl. The lustful caress of his tongue against your core vanished, leaving behind a raw ache of yearning. "What...?" you gasped, your voice barely a whisper against the ragged rhythm of your breath.

He offered no explanation, but you felt his cheek move against your inner thigh. He was smiling. Then, with a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, he resumed his ministrations. His fingers rekindled the fire he'd put out, and his tongue flicked and teased, sending a jolt of anticipation skittering down your spine. You clung to the edge, desperate to fall over, but just as you felt the familiar pull towards oblivion, he'd withdraw once more, leaving you teetering on the brink.

The cycle repeated, a cruel game of push and pull that stretched time and frayed your nerves. Minutes bled into hours, or so it felt, each stolen moment of pleasure amplifying your frustration. You were a tangled mess of raw need, your moans a desperate plea for release.

All of a sudden, he disappeared, his fingers and tongue abruptly absent. A gasp tore from your lips, a primal sound of frustration and desire. You were left flushed and trembling, the phantom sensation of his touch burning on your skin.

Desperation clawed at you – not an itch, but an ache, a deep yearning that pulsed through your core. You strained against the restraints, the leather biting into your skin was insignificant compared to the fire raging within you.

The mattress beneath you was slick, wet with his spit and your wetness. The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air, a mix of his musk and your own desperate need. Vulnerability washed over you, a raw yearning that left you exposed and aching.

A sudden sensation brushed against your cheek, a cool contrast to your heated skin. It was cold, rough and hard, like steel wrapped in cloth. It trailed down your neck, the coolness of the object causing you to buck, before hovering tantalizingly above your peaked nipple. Anticipation crackled in the air as it circled, the touch deliberate yet teasing. Finally, it dipped down, the pressure increasing, as the rough material rubbed against your nipple, leaving it hot, raw and throbbing.

It moved to your other nipple, repeating the same process, till both of them were peaked to the point it hurt, red and raw.

Your chest was falling up and down rapidly, each breath a shallow wave against the heat building deep in your core, spreading all over your body. Suddenly, a jolt of awareness ripped through you, sharp and unexpected as you felt the shape of the object against your stomach.

The object pressed against your sensitive skin wasn't just cool metal. You froze, the realization crashing down on you like a physical blow. It was Nanami's blunt blade.

Nanami moved his clothed blade down your body, over your abdomen, before the blunt side of his blade brushed over your pelvis, settling over your needy clit. He moved the blade, its rough fabric providing delicious friction against your clit. But it was wrong, right? So wrong. After all, he uses it to kill his enemies!

“You want to cum, right?” You heard Nanami say as he continued moving the blade against your clit, giving you exactly what you needed “Use the blade then, cum all over it” he said, as he stopped moving the blade against you, forcing you to move your hips to get that delicious friction.

You whimpered with need. God, you wanted to use it, you needed to cum, but this felt wrong. “But Ken-” you began, but Nanami cut you off, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Use it - ride it for your pleasure.” he said, desire heavy in his voice, “I want to see you come undone all over it.” His fingers brushed over your temple, gently moving away the hair sticking to the side of your face.

It felt so good. The cool blade, the rough fabric, the delicious friction. And you knew it wouldn’t hurt you, not at all. So what was stopping you from taking what you wanted? Even Nanami wanted you to use it - so why the hesitation?

With that in mind, you surrendered to the cool sensation, your hips rising and falling in a mesmerizing rhythm against the blade. Nanami's gaze seemed to sear through the blindfold, his unspoken encouragement a delicious fire against your skin. “That’s it darling, move your hips like that,” he encouraged you and your orgasm was building, your walls clamping around nothing as your body was finally ready to let go.

His name was on your lips as your body arched, and with a scream, you came all over the clothed blade- Nanami’s blunt blade. Every nerve in your body was alive, the effect of the orgasm reaching your fingertips, your toes, making them curl. Your hips moved on their own, making to ride the blade till the last of your orgasms faded.

You lay sprawled on the bed, muscles trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Each ragged breath felt like a victory as you slowly brought your body back under control. A soft thud beside you startled you – it was the blade, you realised. Nanami’s finger brushed your cheekbone, as he reached to remove the tie tied around your eyes.

His lips brushed over your eyes, a fleeting touch that spoke more than words. He cupped your cheeks, his voice a low rumble as he praised you, "You did so good for me, such a good girl." You opened your eyes, blinking away the darkness as they adjusted to the light. You met his gaze, his pupils dilated - his eyes were so dark with desire, with raw need.

The itch was still there, but you knew precisely what - or who, actually, your body itched for. "Kento," you breathed, your voice hoarse with a raw desperation. "Take me, please," you whispered, the plea escaping your lips in a shaky gasp.

Nanami took in a sharp breath. You looked at his length, which was red and angry, swollen with need, pre-cum leaking out from the tip. You wanted to lick it away, to feel Nanami fuck your mouth, but above everything, you needed him inside you, painting your walls.

“Are you sure, honey? You just had a pretty intense orgasm,” He said, the concern heavy in his eyes. Despite what his body wanted - no, what his body needed, he was still focused on you. But you were sure of what you wanted.

“Yes Kento, please - I need you,” your legs rubbed against each other again, but all your body craved was the man standing in front of you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something before he finally, finally moved and settled down between your legs. With deliberate movement, he positioned himself against your entrance.

His lips trailed down your neck, each touch a whispered promise. He found your nipple, his tongue circling it with a gentle pressure that sent a delicious ache through your core. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he moved to your other breast, mirroring the exquisite torment.

He grabbed his length, his large hand wrapping around it as he entered into you. A gasp escaped your lips as he pressed against your entrance, the initial resistance delicious friction. Inch by inch, he moved deeper inside you, your walls struggling to take him - you felt so full already. But you knew there was more - a lot more.

When he was halfway through, Nanami began thrusting into you, going deeper and deeper into you with each thrust until he was fully settled inside you. You were so full, so sensitive and Nanami was stretching you out so well - God, you loved it.

Nanami began with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust a deep exploration that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the shift within him, the control he'd held loosening as desire took hold. It was a delicious surrender, watching him succumb to the same fire burning in you.

His pace quickened, echoing the rising urgency within you. Every powerful surge sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a gasp escaping your lips with each satisfying thrust. The heat intensified, blooming outwards from your core, and your moans became a desperate chorus, a plea that mirrored his own.

His voice, thick with raw need, tore through the haze of your desire. “You take me so well, darling,” he groaned, “Always so well."

You locked eyes with Nanami, a reflection of your flushed desire staring back at you. His hair, usually styled back, clung to his forehead in damp tendrils, mirroring the sheen of sweat that glistened on your skin. His chest, a canvas of taut muscle, heaved with exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his body.

His hands roamed your body with hunger. They lingered on the taut skin of your stomach, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers dipped below, exploring the sensitive curves.

His thumb brushed tantalizingly across your nipple, causing you to throw your head back. He circled it gently, a slow and deliberate torture, before his fingers joined the dance, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You struggled against the belt holding your hand back, desperate to touch him, to feel those muscles of his back, but it was futile.

His pace grew more urgent, mirroring the frantic rhythm of your breath. You arched your back into his touch, a wordless plea for more, for release from the delicious torment.

He let out a guttural growl above you, the sound vibrating through you. His hand snaked out, brushing against your cheek before coming to rest on your throat. "I was right," he murmured, his voice a husky rasp against your ear. "My hand looks far better than my tie." His hand tightened, limiting your supply of oxygen.

Abruptly, Nanami stopped and pulled back almost all the way out. He stayed there for a second, before driving into you with such force that it knocked the air out of your lungs, causing you to gasp, but there was only so much you could do against his hand choking you.

His cock throbbed inside you, his veins pulsing as his thrusts grew even more desperate. You were struggling against his hand, and you felt his hold loosen, “Breathe honey,” he said, and as you gulped for air, his hands tightened yet again.

“You are taking it so well,” he groaned, “Just a little more and we will be done, sweetheart.” His thrusts had turned brutal, merciless - his hold on your throat unforgiving, yet you enjoyed every second of it. Wanted more, craved more.

Your walls tightened around his cock, clamping down on him, “Kento…” you began, and felt his hold loosen again. “I am so close” you rasped out.

“I know I know, honey, let it go.” His hand left your throat and settled on your clit, drawing quick 8’s on it. Soon enough, you were moaning, screaming, squirming, as you came all over his cock, your orgasm blinding you for a second as it took over every inch of your body. You felt it in every muscle, every tendon, every cell. Your skin burned but Nanami did not stop as he chased his own release.

Finally, his thrust turned sloppy, uncoordinated, as he moaned above you, his orgasm taking over him and his white hot release filled you. He fucked you through his orgasm, drawing out every last bit of it until your walls had squeezed him dry.

With a groan that coursed through you, Nanami settled beside you, the weight of his body a welcome press against yours. Both of you fought to catch your breath, ragged gasps escaping your lips in a shared rhythm.

He turned his head, his breath warm against your cheek as he nuzzled the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exertion and something deeper, a raw tenderness that sent a fresh wave of shivers down your spine.

You tried to reach up, to trace the sharp, damp line of his jaw, but the binding of your arms held you back. A flicker of frustration crossed your features, quickly replaced by a sigh of relief as Nanami, as if sensing your desire, reached up and undid the belt. The leather loosened, allowing your arms to fall free with a gentle thud against the mattress.

He sat up, his movements slow and deliberate. His gaze met yours, and without a word, he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as his fingers began to massage your shoulders. The tight muscles, knotted with tension, loosened under his ministrations, a wave of relief washing over you with each circular motion.

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft moan as his touch worked its magic. The sharp ache in your muscles began to dull, replaced by a pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

He stopped his massage as his arms wrapped around you, a secure and comforting hold. Pulling you closer, he nestled his face in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. A soft kiss landed on your forehead, a sweet and intimate gesture.

"You are amazing," he murmured against your hair, his voice a husky rumble that sent a delicious warmth through you. A blush crept up your neck, a mixture of pleasure and shyness at his praise. “You did so well.”

He cupped your jaw, his touch gentle yet firm, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. There was tenderness in his eyes. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, a slow exploration that promised more to come. When he finally pulled away, a slow smile played on his lips. "How does a bath sound, honey?" he asked, his voice a husky invitation.

You nodded against his chest - your throat felt too raw to say anything. Nanami smiled, “I’ll get the water running, then.”

a/n: did I get carried away? I feel like I did lol.

Anyway, I got hot and bothered while writing it, so I hope you also had a similar reaction while reading it!

Please let me know what you thought about it! I always smile whenever I see a notification about a like, reblog, or even a comment because it's just so sweet.

Also, tagging @whereflowerswenttodie just because.

Divider by @/benkeibear and @/cafekitsune. Please check them out, they have AMAZING resources!

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Reader

Talk of the Hour

Petra and the other girls lean in closer to Y/N as they giggle and shush each other.

“So, what was Levi like in the underground?” Petra asks, curiosity in her eyes.

Mina blushes. “I heard he was a bad boy.”

Y/N looks around the room to make sure the coast is clear before smiling at the fawning group of girls. “He was!”

All the girls squeal and start giggling.

Y/N laughs and shushes them. “Whenever Levi was around, people would walk away. Some other guys would try to seem tougher than him and pick fights, but they obviously never won. Levi had this certain…swag…to him. From the way he dressed to the way he acted.”

Nifa gasps. “He dressed like a gangster? That is so unlike him.”

“Well, there are no such thing as nice clothes in the underground. Unless you have money to buy them, but remember, people down there don’t even have money for food.” The girls frown and ‘aw’ at the sad explanation, but Y/N continues, “Although, Levi always kept his clothes clean. He would always wear his tan trousers, his brown flowy shirt and would layer his red vest over top.”

Y/N blushes. “He worked with what he had, but he was always the best dressed.”

“I always wore the same outfit because someone always needed money for medicine.”

Y/N and the other girls freeze, their faces turning ghost white as Levi, the talk of the hour, walks in.

Y/N awkwardly laughs and clears her throat. “Levi…we were just talking about you!”

Levi scoffs. “Yes, I heard.”

Petra smiles. “Nothing but good words though!”

Levi crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair. “I am happy I no longer need to wear those clothes anymore.

Y/N smiles as she looks down at her metal leg, it being the reason Levi had to constantly keep maintenance on his only outfit.

“Um, if you don’t mind…how did you lose your leg, Y/N.” Nifa asks awkwardly, but curiously.

“Well, lack of sun and lack of nutrients tends to make humans weak. Mix an injury with a weak body, and you get an infection that doesn’t want to go away.” Y/N explains. “Levi always got me medicine, but they weren’t working very well.”

Levi grimaces as he reminiscences on past memories. “Her leg looked like it was from Hell itself. That thing was all black and purple with-…”

Y/N nudges his shoulder as she notices the grossed out faces on the girls. “Don’t gross them out.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Point is, an underground operation would have killed her anyway. Y/N was destined to die.”

“But when Erwin came to get Levi, he agreed to go on the promise that I also get brought to the surface for medical treatment.” Y/N taps her metal leg. “Thankfully they also gave me this nifty leg so I can still walk.”

Mina clasps her hands together. “I’m glad you’re still here, Y/N. You help keep this place running smoothly.”

With being disabled, Y/N is not able to fight titans, so Erwin gave her the job of doing the clerical tasks like paperwork, record keeping, and holding down the morale amongst the soldiers.

“Y/N has the perfect job because she likes to talk a lot.” Levi unnecessarily.

Nifa smirks. “Captain, when are you going to propose?”

“Alright, time for me to go do something else now.” Levi smooths his pants as he stands to leave.

Y/N rolls her eyes as the girls start laughing.

[svt-luna]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ MY ALCOHOL DIARY ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

[ENG SUB] Luna’s Drunken Truths?🌙 A New Side You’ve Never Seen Before ✨🍻 [Nothing Much Prepared]

synopsis: Luna is here! Luna joins Youngji for some laughs, deep talks, and a few fun surprises on this episode of My Alcohol Diary.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews

bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩

Lee Youngji, in her typical lively fashion, was seen darting around her cozy apartment, her slippers barely keeping up with her hurried steps. The camera followed her movements closely as she rushed from one corner of the room to the other, adjusting chairs, straightening the table, and arranging food and drinks with a touch of anxious energy.

Plates of snacks, ranging from fried chicken to Korean side dishes, lined the table, all meticulously laid out. Bottles of soju, beer, and soda stood ready in perfect rows— except today, there was something a little extra on display.

Youngji glanced back at the neatly arranged bottles of red and white wine with a look that was half-pride, half-nervousness. “Ya, seriously, look at me. Expensive wine! Since when do I buy expensive wine?” She muttered to herself with a dramatic flair as her small crew, seated off at the front, watched her, biting back smiles.

“She looks like someone who drinks the good stuff, okay? She’s got that vibe. Like… luxury.” Her hand fluttered nervously over the bottles again, repositioning them for the third time.

One of the writers snickered, causing Youngji to spin around, her face an exaggerated mix of panic and excitement. “I’m not kidding! You all don’t understand. She’s… she’s intimidating! She hasn’t even arrived yet, and I’m already shaking. Hoshi warned me! He was here a few months ago, and I messaged him and asked him about her. You know what he said?” She paused dramatically, eyes wide, as though she were telling a ghost story.

The crew leaned in, intrigued by the suspense she was building.

“He told me,” she whispered, eyes darting to the camera as if someone might overhear her secret, “that she doesn’t drink beer because she doesn’t like the taste.”

This revelation was met with a burst of laughter from her crew. Youngji threw her hands up, pacing in front of the table. “Can you imagine?! I only had beer! What am I going to do? Should I just… drink by myself?” She exaggeratedly reached for one of the wine bottles and opened it, pouring herself a glass of white. She sipped, her brows furrowing slightly as she tasted the drink. "That's why I got this."

“I bought the expensive kind,” she said, swirling the glass. “You know why? Because she gives off that expensive vibe. Like… a black credit card kind of energy.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say, You know what I mean, before taking another sip.

“Ah, this is why I dressed up today! Look at me.” She gestured to her outfit— an unusually stylish ensemble compared to her usual casual attire. “I had to. I want her to like me! I mean, I usually just wear whatever I find first in my closet, but today? No way. I had to step it up.”

The staff erupted in laughter again, knowing full well that Youngji was half-joking but also genuinely nervous. She glanced at the camera again, then sighed dramatically, collapsing onto the couch, wine glass in hand. “I’m doomed. What if she doesn’t laugh at my jokes? What if she just stares at me with those intimidating eyes, and I crumble?” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, peeking out from between her fingers before groaning and sitting up.

“I swear, if she doesn’t like me, I’ll blame you guys,” she said, pointing accusingly at the staff. “You’re supposed to make me look good, and here I am looking like a nervous wreck.” She waved her arms dramatically, showcasing the haphazardly arranged table and the slightly cluttered apartment.

Her crew laughed again, and Youngji couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “Okay, okay, enough with the nerves. I’ve got this. Right?” She gave the camera a confident look, only to immediately second-guess herself. “No? You don’t think I’ve got this? Well, we’ll see.”

“No, I can do this,” she said, trying to hype herself up. “I just need to relax, right? Right. I mean, I’m Lee Youngji, damn it. I can make anyone laugh.”

The camera cut to a shot of her crew trying not to laugh too loudly as Youngji stared dramatically at her glass, muttering to herself once more, “Yeah… even Luna…”

With one last glance at the table, Youngji nodded to herself and turned back to the camera, her smile wide and her energy high.

“Alright, guys. Stay tuned. Because today… a princess is coming.”

Youngji, still buzzing with nervous energy, paced back and forth across the small living room as she adjusted the two large boxes of pizza on the table. She glanced at the red and white wine bottles once more, nodding to herself. "Okay, so we've got options," she muttered under her breath, pushing her hair back as she opened a drawer beneath the table.

With a swift motion, she pulled out a bottle of soju and— after a bit of rummaging— a bottle of gin.

"Just in case," she told herself as she placed them both down. She then turned to her crew, who had been quietly laughing at her antics from the sidelines. “I mean, what if she’s like, ���Oh, I don't want to drink wine today,’ and then I look like a bad host? Can’t have that. So, variety!" She tapped the gin bottle with a grin. "This one’s a wildcard. I’ve never even had gin before.”

One of the writers laughed. “Are you gonna try it before she gets here?”

Youngji widened her eyes. "I mean… yeah, why not? Let’s see what we’re working with." She grabbed the gin bottle, twisting the cap open. The strong, herbal smell hit her instantly, making her reel back with an exaggerated grimace. “Woah! Okay! Wow, it smells like… it smells like it's gonna end me. This stuff smells dangerous.”

Her crew chuckled, egging her on as she poured a shot. With a deep breath, she threw back the shot, and her entire face contorted in an instant. She physically recoiled, her shoulders pulling in tight as she squeezed her eyes shut, barely suppressing a full-body shiver.

"Yeah, nope. That’s definitely strong," she gasped, blinking rapidly as she set the shot glass down on the table with more force than intended. “She’s definitely not going to like this. I mean, if she doesn’t like the taste of beer, this is gonna be a hard no.”

Just as she continued joking with the director about their drink options, the doorbell suddenly rang, cutting through the chatter.

Everyone froze.

There was a collective intake of breath from the crew as they turned toward the door, eyes wide.

Youngji’s eyes darted around the room before landing on the intercom on the wall. "Oh my god, she’s here! Guys, she's here!" she whispered, her hands flailing. In her excitement, she tripped over her own feet, catching herself on the back of the chair with a laugh. "Why am I like this?!"

Still panicking, she scrambled to the intercom, pressing the button to reveal a small screen showing a grainy video of Luna standing outside, waiting patiently at the door.

The camera zoomed in on Luna’s soft, bright features framed by her stylishly casual pink top, which showed off a glimpse of her effortless, chic vibe.

“Who is it?” Youngji asked, her voice playful, but she couldn’t hide the excitement.

“It’s Luna,” came the soft, melodic response from the other side, followed by a smile from the girl on screen. Luna’s face lit up with warmth as her voice echoed through the small apartment.

“Oh my god!” Youngji squealed before she dramatically slid down the wall in slow motion, as though the weight of meeting Luna in person had become too much to bear. Her crew burst into laughter, the room filling with their amusement as Youngji sat crumpled on the floor. “Why is she so pretty?! It’s not fair!” she wailed, covering her face with both hands.

Suddenly, as if struck by a lightning bolt of energy, Youngji shot to her feet and sprinted toward another room. “I need to put on perfume!” she yelled, disappearing into the hallway, her crew doubling over with laughter.

After a moment, Youngji reappeared, the perfume forgotten, trying to catch her breath. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself, and began to hum the chorus of “HOT” by SEVENTEEN as if to hype herself up. “Alright, let’s go!” she muttered, pacing back and forth again. “I’m fine… I can do this…”

She grabbed the gin bottle one more time, pouring another shot, and before she could second-guess herself, she downed it with a wince. “Nope. Still gross,” she whispered to no one in particular, her face scrunched up as she cringed once more. Shaking off the burn, she rushed toward the door.

“Who is it?” she asked again, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

There was a soft laugh from the other side. “It’s Luna. It’s me.”

Youngji, dramatic as ever, slid down the door this time, her body slowly crumpling to the floor in a display of exaggerated defeat as her crew lost it, their laughter echoing throughout the room.

After a moment, she finally gathered herself, stood up with a playful determination, and opened the door. "Hello!"

There, in the doorway, stood Luna, her radiant smile soft and welcoming. She was dressed in a pastel pink top, casually draped over a cropped white tube top, paired with light-washed jeans that hugged her figure effortlessly. Her hair fell in gentle waves, her expression relaxed yet excited as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion shoot without trying too hard.

Youngji blinked, her jaw dropping slightly as she took in the sight before her. “Oh, wow,” she whispered, not quite realizing she’d said it out loud.

As Youngji opened the door, her eyes quickly darted to the box Luna was holding, wrapped in simple, elegant paper with a delicate ribbon tied around it. Without a second thought, she reached out and gently fussed over the box.

“Oh, no, no, no— give that to me. You shouldn't be holding that!” Youngji exclaimed, reaching for the box, her tone full of concern. She took it from Luna’s hands, cradling it carefully, as if it were something fragile.

Luna chuckled softly, bowing slightly to the crew and waving at the camera with a warm, easy smile. "Hello, everyone!" she greeted, her voice lilting and sweet as she gave the camera a quick wave. She looked genuinely pleased to be there, her smile growing wider as the crew responded with a collective greeting.

While Luna faced the camera, Youngji couldn't help but admire her from the back. The way Luna carried herself was effortless yet graceful— her top hanging perfectly over her shoulders, the soft, pink fabric catching the light. Youngji's eyes traced the loose waves of Luna’s hair and how they cascaded down her back.

She sighed under her breath. "How is she this pretty, though?"

After Luna finished greeting the crew, she turned her attention back to Youngji, her smile never faltering. “Youngji, it’s so good to finally see you in person,” she exclaimed.

Youngji, caught off guard by her own admiring thoughts, blinked and smiled back. “I know, right? It feels like we’ve been trying to schedule this for forever! Come in, sit, sit!” she urged, motioning to the table. She gently placed the box she had taken from Luna on the table as Luna took a seat across from her.

Youngji’s curiosity piqued, she glanced at the box again and asked, "So, what's in here? Is it for me?" Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.

Luna nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. “Yes, it’s a gift. I wanted to bring something special since I’ve known I’d be coming on your show for a while now.”

With wide eyes, Youngji carefully opened the box, peeling back the ribbon and lifting the lid with anticipation. Inside, nestled carefully in soft tissue paper, was a stunningly beautiful set of plates, cups, spoons, and forks— each piece looked intricately designed, with delicate patterns running along the edges. The set had an unmistakable elegance, the kind that screamed of fine craftsmanship. The plates and cups shimmered subtly under the lights, the porcelain pristine and polished, accented by gold and silver trimming.

Youngji gasped loudly, her mouth falling open as she froze for a moment, simply staring. “No way!” she finally breathed out. “This is— this is beautiful!” She turned the box towards her crew, showing them the set, and instantly, the room erupted into murmurs of amazement.

One of the staff members leaned in to get a closer look, and their director let out a low whistle. "Wow, that looks expensive," one of them commented.

“It is!” Youngji exclaimed, her eyes still wide. “Luna, why would you give me something this pretty? I don’t deserve this!” She looked up at Luna, completely stunned.

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “I was in Paris for a schedule a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I know you like hosting and cooking on your show, so I figured you might appreciate something like this. Plus, I love pretty cutlery and tableware myself,” she added with a grin, “so I thought you might enjoy it too.”

Youngji blinked, processing Luna’s words as she gently ran her fingers over the smooth surface of one of the plates. “Wait, so you’ve been planning this? You thought of me while you were in Paris?” She sounded both flattered and bewildered, her voice growing a little softer as she spoke.

Luna nodded earnestly. “Yes. I wanted to get you something meaningful, and I knew I’d be coming here, so I wanted it to be special.”

Suddenly, Youngji stood up from her chair, bowing deeply on the ground in a dramatic fashion. "Thank you so much. I feel so honored! I don’t think I’ve ever received something this thoughtful in my life!” She remained bent at the waist, her voice filled with gratitude.

Luna’s laughter filled the room, the sound light and full of warmth. “Youngji, you don’t have to bow like that!” she said between giggles, waving her hands. “It’s just a gift. I’m happy you like it.”

As Youngji straightened up, she grinned from ear to ear. “Like it? I love it! I’m never going to let anyone else touch these— ever. They’re going into a glass case!” She cradled the box as if it were a precious relic.

The room was filled with laughter as the two women continued to gush over the gift.

Youngji leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity. “Okay, okay, let’s start this thing right,” she said, clasping her hands together dramatically. “So, I heard from Hoshi…” she paused for effect, glancing at Luna as if to prepare her for the big reveal, “…that you don’t drink beer?”

Luna laughed, a little sheepish as she nodded. “Yeah, beer’s really not my thing. I don’t like the taste.”

With an exaggerated nod, Youngji clapped her hands together. “I knew it! That’s why,” she gestured toward the small bar set up next to them, “I prepared an assortment of drinks for you. I thought, you know, options! Since you’re not a beer girl.” She stood up, making a grand gesture as she presented the collection of spirits and mixers she had lined up.

Luna raised her eyebrows in surprise, genuinely impressed. “Wow, this is… a lot. You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I know, but you deserve it,” Youngji said with a wink. “So, let’s see what we’ve got here. There’s soju, white wine, red wine, even some gin.” She paused, her expression suddenly serious as she pointed at one of the bottles. “I tried the gin earlier, and, to be honest, I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.”

Luna, instead of shying away as Youngji had expected, tilted her head and smiled. “I think I’ll try the gin, actually.”

The room fell into a brief silence.

“Wait, really?” Youngji blinked in disbelief, holding the bottle like it might bite. “You’re sure? Gin’s pretty strong, you know…”

Luna nodded confidently, her calm demeanor unwavering. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.”

Youngji eyed her suspiciously, but with a shrug, she began to pour two shots into small glasses. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As the gin splashed into the glasses, Luna leaned back casually in her chair. “The only alcohol I don’t drink is beer,” she deadpanned, her voice so even and serious that it took a second for the joke to register. “And rubbing alcohol,” she added after a beat.

The room burst into laughter, including Youngji, who was nearly doubling over as she placed the gin bottle back on the table. “Oh my God, Luna, please!” she cackled, her voice high-pitched with mock of amusement. “You’re a comedian!”

Luna grinned, taking the glass from Youngji’s hand and raising it. “Cheers?”

Youngji straightened up and mirrored her, though her expression was still one of doubt. “Cheers!” They clinked their glasses together before tilting their heads back and downing the shots.

What shocked everyone in the room wasn’t Youngji, who immediately cringed and shuddered as if she had just been electrocuted— her whole body recoiling from the harsh bite of the gin.

It was Luna, who didn’t even flinch. She set her glass back down on the table without as much as a twitch, her face a picture of calm serenity, as if she had just taken a sip of water rather than a strong gin.

Youngji, still recovering, blinked at her in awe. “What the—” she stammered, her voice almost a whisper. “You didn’t even move!”

The crew let out murmurs of admiration, their eyes wide as they continued to marvel at Luna’s steely composure.

Luna laughed softly, raising her shoulders in a playful shrug. “What can I say? I’m just built differently.”

Youngji stared at her for a moment longer, completely shocked, before shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re scary, Luna,” she finally declared, making the crew chuckle. “Like, seriously.”

Luna’s laughter filled the room again, light and warm. “Oh, come on, I’m not scary!”

Youngji raised her hands, gesturing dramatically toward Luna’s cool composure. “This is exactly what I mean! Who takes gin like that? Scary.”

Luna shook her head, still smiling. “You’re too much.”

Wiping away an imaginary tear, Youngji straightened up in her chair and cleared her throat. “Alright, alright,” she began, transitioning the conversation with a more serious tone, “I just have to get this out of the way— because it’s been on my mind for a while.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, curious but smiling. “Oh? What is it?”

Youngji leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “You… intimidate me,” she confessed with a laugh, though there was a slight hint of truth in her tone. “Like, seriously. I don’t know why, but I was so nervous before meeting you!”

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyebrow lifting in amusement. “You’re not the first to say that,” she replied, her voice light and almost teasing. “I get that a lot, actually.”

Youngji’s eyes widened slightly as she sat back, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Luna nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. Ever since I was younger, people would always tell me I gave off that vibe,” she explained with a shrug. “Even during my trainee years, people thought I was kind of… scary, I guess.”

Youngji tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “But, like, you’re so chill. Did that ever bother you? People thinking you’re intimidating?”

For a moment, Luna hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table as she considered the question. Then, she shook her head. “It used to when I was younger. It kind of got to me because I thought, ‘Why do people think that about me? I’m not like that at all.’” She paused, her voice soft but steady. “But I realized, you know, people are gonna believe what they want to believe. And usually, once they get to know me, that impression changes.”

Youngji nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Luna’s words. “So it doesn’t offend you anymore?”

Luna shook her head again, more firmly this time. “No, not really. I mean, it’s a part of life, right? First impressions aren’t always accurate.” She chuckled softly before glancing toward the cameras where the director and staff were sitting, her eyes twinkling with humor. “I’m not a scary person, I promise,” she called out to them, making everyone laugh. “My face just looks like this! It’s my resting face.”

Youngji burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “See, this is why you’re dangerous! The duality!”

Luna couldn’t help but join in, her laughter filling the room as Youngji playfully fanned herself, pretending to recover from the “shock” of Luna’s words.

Youngji clinked her glass lightly against Luna's before refilling both their glasses with gin, the clear liquid sloshing in the light. She squinted at Luna mischievously, a playful grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Alright, Luna-ssi,” she said, leaning forward a little, eyebrows raised in faux suspicion, “I wanna hear some things about your drinking habits. What’s the deal? You don’t like drinking beer, but... for some reason like gin. What’s your alcohol tolerance, hm?” Her words came out with that infectious energy she was known for, her curiosity a mix of casual but always playful.

Luna, who had been comfortably sitting, looked amused at the question. She let out a light laugh, glancing down at the gin-filled glass in front of her. “Well,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “I don’t really like drinking that much. I guess you could say I’m more of a social drinker. I mean... I drink when it’s for occasions like this—” she gestured around to Youngji and the cameras. “—but I don’t usually go out of my way for it.”

Youngji leaned in closer, her eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. “Oh come on, you have to give me more than that! What about your tolerance? You seem like you could hold your own.”

Luna chuckled, shaking her head. “Actually, I do have a pretty high alcohol tolerance.” She paused, taking the glass and swirling the gin around as if she were contemplating it deeply. “But... I’m going to be honest, I think this gin is going to end me tonight.”

That comment got a chorus of laughter from the crew, and Youngji burst into giggles, almost spilling her own drink in the process. “That’s what I thought!” Youngji exclaimed, slapping her knee. “Gin is no joke! It’s like... it’s like a slap in the face.”

Luna grinned, raising the glass to her lips but pausing to add, “But don’t get me wrong— I’m not saying I can’t handle it. It’s just... you know… It’s strong.”

Youngji dramatically recoiled back into her chair, waving her hands. “No, no. You’re too calm about this. If you’ve got a high tolerance, I’m scared for my own life now.” Her voice dropped in mock fear, and she glanced towards the crew with an exaggerated wide-eyed expression.

Luna deadpanned, looking Youngji squarely in the eye. “Youngji-ah... you’re not normal.”

Youngji cackled so hard she nearly fell out of her chair, grabbing the edge of the table for support as she doubled over in laughter. Her laughter was infectious, and soon, everyone in the room was laughing along with her, the absurdity of the situation settling over them like a warm blanket.

Still recovering, Youngji wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “I—” she began, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She held her hands up in surrender but was still chuckling. “I’ll tone it down.”

Luna just shook her head, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry about it,” she replied smoothly, her calm demeanor only adding to the comedic contrast of the situation. “I’m used to it. Besides, I work with thirteen guys. Crazy is... pretty much my normal.”

That comment earned another round of laughter from the crew, and even Youngji was back to cackling, clapping her hands. “Touché! Oh my God, you’ve definitely been through it.”

Luna gave a knowing nod, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “You have no idea.”

As the laughter died down, Youngji straightened herself in her chair, taking her glass of gin again. “Alright, alright,” she said, breathing deeply as if preparing for battle. “Here we go, another shot of gin— because I’m trying to be brave in front of Luna.”

Luna gave her a mock-serious nod like she was some kind of alcohol sensei. “Good luck,” she said solemnly, lifting her own glass. They clinked glasses once more and threw back their drinks, Youngji immediately cringing as the gin hit her throat.

“Aghhh!” Youngji exclaimed, shaking her head violently as the strong alcohol sent a wave of heat through her chest. “I’m... alive... but barely.”

Luna, on the other hand, took her shot like a pro, setting the glass down with a cool, calm expression. “Not bad,” she said casually.

Youngji stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “How are you so calm?! Do you not have taste buds or something? That was like drinking fire!”

Luna chuckled, but her expression remained almost too composed. “You just need practice,” she said, her voice light and teasing. The crew burst into laughter once again at her nonchalant attitude, while Youngji just pointed at Luna in mock accusation.

“You are terrifying. Absolutely terrifying,” Youngji declared, pretending to back away from her guest as if she were dangerous.

Luna finally let out a real laugh, shaking her head. “I promise, I’m not that scary,” she reassured her, though the grin on her face said otherwise.

“Well, Luna,” Youngji sighed, leaning back in her chair dramatically. “I think I’ve learned something today— never challenge Luna to a drinking contest.” She pointed at the camera as if issuing a public service announcement. “Don’t do it. You will lose.”

The two shared another laugh, the playful energy between them making the room feel alive.

Youngji leaned back in her chair, eyes sparkling with the mischievous curiosity that made her such a great host. “So…” she started, a playful tone creeping into her voice as she transitioned to English, “I heard you’re from London.”

Luna raised her eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Oh, you heard?” she teased. She knew this topic would come up eventually— it always did.

“Yeah!” Youngji exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat as she grabbed her glass for another sip. “I’ve been dying to ask you about that. So, you grew up in Kensington, right?”

Luna smiled warmly, nodding. “Yeah, I was born and raised there.”

Youngji’s eyes widened as if she had just been handed some earth-shattering news. “Kensington! That sounds so fancy! Isn’t that where all the rich people live?” Her tone was exaggerated, causing Luna to burst out laughing.

“It’s not that fancy,” Luna tried to downplay it, still giggling. “But yeah, it’s a nice area.”

Youngji leaned in dramatically, narrowing her eyes. “So, do you have that proper British accent? Like the ones in movies? Can you say something like—” she thought for a second, then added in the most over-the-top British accent she could manage, “Would you like a cup of tea, madam?”

Luna doubled over laughing, holding up her hand. “No, no, no— oh my God, that accent!” she exclaimed, barely able to get the words out. “That’s like… a parody of what people think British people sound like!”

Youngji grinned, not backing down. “Oh, come on! You gotta give me something! Is your accent like that?”

Luna shook her head, still laughing. “My accent’s softer now,” she explained. “It used to be a lot deeper when I was younger. Very English. But I’ve lived abroad so long now, it’s kind of… faded. Plus, I’ve been in Korea for years, so it’s not as strong as it used to be.”

Youngji’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “Ooooh, so you were, like, super British when you were little?”

Luna nodded, a fond smile crossing her lips. “Yeah, I was very much the stereotypical British kid— mummy can I have some more cake,” she said in a perfect British accent, throwing her hand up in an exaggerated way that made Youngji cackle in delight. “My mom loved to bake, so I would say that a lot.”

“There it is!” Youngji pointed at her, laughing. “That’s the accent I wanted to hear! You sounded like you just walked out of a Harry Potter!”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully. “I mean, it’s still there… when I’m really tired, frustrated, or angry, it comes out more.”

Youngji leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Okay, I have to hear you speak when tired then.”

Luna smirked, raising her glass. “Maybe after a few more drinks. We’ll see.”

Youngji grinned at the challenge. “I’ll hold you to that!”

They both clinked their glasses, and the atmosphere between them relaxed and filled with a playful energy.

“So, what’s it like growing up there?” Youngji asked, refilling Luna’s glass. “It sounds so glamorous.”

Luna shrugged casually, swirling the gin in her glass. “I mean, it was… nice, but it wasn’t all that different from growing up anywhere else, I guess. Except maybe the weather— it’s London, mostly gloomy. It rains a lot.”

Youngji scrunched her nose in mock disgust. “Oh no, I’d hate that. I need sunshine to survive.”

Luna laughed. “Yeah, me too! Gloomy weather makes me feel like I’m sick but I do miss it sometimes.”

Youngji tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing again as if something had just dawned on her. “Wait, does that mean you drank tea all the time? Isn’t that, like, a thing in the UK?”

Luna deadpanned, her voice dropping to a flat, mock-serious tone. “Yes. Tea is basically our water.”

Youngji burst out laughing again, clutching her stomach. “I knew it! I knew it was real!”

Luna grinned, shaking her head. “No, but seriously—everyone drinks tea. It’s a big deal.”

“Did you ever go to those fancy tea parties?” Youngji asked, still giggling.

Luna snorted. “What do you think, we all sit around in gowns drinking tea out of gold cups? It’s not like that!”

Youngji threw her head back laughing. “I was imagining you in one of those big hats and everything!”

“Yeah, no,” Luna chuckled. “It was mostly just normal attire with a cup of tea.”

Youngji wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, shaking her head. “Oh my God, you’re destroying all my British fantasies.”

“Good,” Luna said, raising her glass again. “Someone needed to.”

The two of them burst into laughter once more, the conversation flowing seamlessly between playful banter and genuine curiosity. Every now and then, Luna’s British accent would slip out, only to send Youngji into another fit of giggles as she begged her to keep talking like that.

Youngji, still giggling from their last exchange about tea parties, reached for the bottle of gin and poured them both another shot. “Okay, one more,” she said with a playful grin, raising her glass. Luna winced but smiled, nodding in agreement. They clinked their glasses together, and with a quick breath, they downed the shots.

Luna’s face immediately scrunched up as the gin burned its way down her throat. “Oh my God,” she groaned, setting her glass down as if it had personally offended her. “I’m starting to feel it.”

Youngji, equally as dramatic, smacked her lips, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “How do people drink this for fun?!” she exclaimed, fanning her face.

Luna laughed, “I don’t know… we are doing it right now though.”

Youngji burst out laughing again, slumping back into her chair. “Girl— you’re right, girl!”

Still recovering from the shot, Youngji tapped her fingers on the table, curiosity creeping into her expression. “So,” she began, “I’ve always wondered… Why did you want to become an idol? And how was it adjusting to moving to Korea?”

Luna took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair as she smiled a little to herself. “Honestly, it shocked me as much as anyone else,” she started. “I was a ballerina back in London, you know.”

Youngji’s eyes lit up, and she pointed at Luna with exaggerated confidence. “I know! You were!”

Luna couldn’t help but chuckle at how proud Youngji sounded, but she continued her story. “Yeah, so I was pretty set on becoming a professional ballet dancer. That was my world. But… when I was about thirteen, something weird happened.”

Youngji leaned forward, intrigued. “Weird how?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with the memory, her voice becoming more animated. “I was doing a ballet recital, right? Performing in front of a big crowd like I usually do. And I was always laser-focused when I performed ballet— always. But that night… for some reason, as I was dancing, this… this urge came over me.”

Youngji’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “An urge?”

“To sing,” Luna said, almost dramatically, her eyes wide with disbelief, even as she remembered it. “In the middle of my ballet routine, I had this sudden urge to just start singing. Like, right then and there on stage. I had never felt anything like that before.”

Youngji’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?! You wanted to just burst out into song during a ballet performance?”

Luna nodded, laughing softly at the absurdity of it. “Exactly. I remember thinking, ‘What is going on with me? I’m supposed to be focused on this performance, and all I can think about is singing.’ That’s when I knew something was shifting.”

Youngji stared at her, mouth still agape before finally pointing at Luna again. “You’re insane,” she said, but with the utmost affection. “In the best way, though.”

Luna grinned, shaking her head. “I guess so. That’s when I started thinking seriously about singing and performing on stage in a different way.”

Youngji was still processing Luna’s unexpected revelation, but then her expression shifted, curiosity spiking again. “So… how did your parents react to all of this? Were they, like, cool with you just dropping ballet?”

Luna leaned back, taking a moment to think. “Well, at first, they were pretty hesitant— my mom especially since she’s a retired ballerina and she trained me. Ballet had been my life for so long, and they had supported me all the way. So when I told them I wanted to move to Korea and become an idol…”

Youngji gasped dramatically, leaning in with a hand to her chest. “Wait, you told them that straight up?! You didn’t slowly plant the idea in their head?”

“Yeah,” Luna laughed. “I was dead serious. They were pretty surprised, but once they saw how committed I was, they agreed. It wasn’t easy, though.”

Youngji nodded, still hanging on every word. “So when did you move to Korea?”

“When I was about fourteen,” Luna replied. “I stayed with my aunt for a while before I started training.”

“Fourteen?!” Youngji exclaimed. “That’s so young! Was it hard adjusting?”

Luna nodded thoughtfully. “It was really tough at first. Being away from home, mastering Korean— I knew a little Korean before moving here but it wasn’t perfect, so naturally I had to study. I had to balance school and training… it was a lot.”

Youngji’s expression softened. “But you had your members, right?”

Luna smiled warmly. “Yeah, I’m really grateful for them. They helped me adjust, especially Jeonghannie oppa.”

Youngji perked up at the mention of Jeonghan’s name. “Jeonghan-ssi? Really? Why?”

Luna nodded. “He was my first real friend when I got here. He kind of looked out for me and took care of me, made sure I wasn’t too homesick.”

Youngji’s eyes softened, a rare moment of calm on her usually excitable face. “That’s sweet.”

Luna chuckled. “Yeah, he’s pretty sweet.”

Youngji, not missing a beat, clapped her hands together and leaned in again, her usual energy returning. “Okay, but wait— did he help you learn Korean, or did he just make fun of you the whole time?”

Luna burst out laughing at the thought. “A bit of both, honestly. He definitely teased me a lot.”

“Of course he did. Teenage boys are like that.” Youngji deadpanned, shaking her head knowingly.

The two of them dissolved into laughter once again, the conversation shifting back to their usual playful banter.

Youngji, still smiling after Luna’s sweet mention of Jeonghan, leaned forward and asked, curiosity lighting up her face. “Okay, so what’s it like having thirteen guys around you all the time? It must be insane, unnie!”

She grabbed another piece of food from the table and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she waited for Luna’s answer. Luna, mirroring Youngji’s actions, took a bite herself, pausing for a second to gather her thoughts.

“It’s… honestly, it’s the best,” Luna said with a soft smile. “I feel really blessed to have them. They’re like… my family.”

Youngji’s eyebrows shot up dramatically, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thirteen brothers? That’s, like, a sitcom waiting to happen!” she exclaimed, waving her chopsticks in the air.

Luna awkwardly laughed before nodding in agreement. “You could say that. But really, I’m so grateful that I met them.”

Youngji pointed her chopsticks at Luna, her eyes wide with exaggerated amazement. “Girl, you better be grateful! You’ve got a whole squad.”

Luna chuckled, leaning back in her seat as she reminisced. “I’m an only child, so growing up, I was used to being on my own. I loved it in a lot of ways, but… it was kind of lonely sometimes.”

Youngji raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. No siblings to steal your clothes or your food or fight over toys with?”

“Exactly!” Luna replied, laughing. “But it also meant I didn’t have that built-in friend growing up. I didn’t really have that many close friends in school either. I was… a little bit shy, I guess.”

Youngji gasped dramatically. “You? Shy?”

Luna nodded, her laughter more sheepish now. “Yeah, I was. I remember wishing I could have a lot of friends, people I could really trust, you know? And now… well, now I have thirteen best friends.”

Youngji’s jaw dropped again as if she had just heard the most unbelievable thing in the world. “Thirteen best friends… That’s so unfair,” she groaned, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand. “I’m so jealous.”

Luna smiled softly, her eyes shining as she continued, “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without them. Sometimes I think about it, you know? In another universe, maybe I didn’t audition, or maybe I didn’t end up in the final lineup… but I still feel like, somehow, I would have found my way to them. Even if it was just as a fan.”

Youngji let out a dramatic wail, sliding off her chair onto the floor as if Luna’s words had physically overwhelmed her. “Noooo! Why are you so sweet?” she whined, lying face-down on the ground, her hands covering her head as if she couldn’t handle the emotions.

Luna burst out laughing, pointing at Youngji flopped on the floor like a starfish. “What are you doing?” she giggled, her laughter echoing through the room.

Youngji peeked up from the ground, her face scrunched up in mock agony. “You’re so lucky! I want thirteen best friends too! Why don’t I have that?!”

Luna, still laughing, shook her head. “Well, you can start with me. I’ll be your first best friend.”

Youngji’s eyes widened like a child who had just been told they could have unlimited candy. “Really?!” she squealed, and then suddenly, she started wiggling on the ground, sliding up and down like a worm. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted, her excitement bubbling over, making the camera crew in the room burst into laughter as well.

Luna was laughing so hard her stomach hurt, and between giggles, she pointed at Youngji. “Okay, stop! Get off the floor!” she said playfully, shaking her head in disbelief.

Youngji, still wiggling dramatically, finally let out a sigh of contentment and flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m jealous, but like, in the best way,” she declared with a dramatic wave of her hand. “You’re so lucky. Thirteen best friends… I’m still gonna say it’s unfair.”

Luna chuckled, combing her fingers through her hair. “Well, now you have me, so we’re off to a good start.”

Youngji sat up with a determined look in her eyes. “I’m starting my own best friend group. It’s gonna be epic.”

The crew continued to laugh as Youngji sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands on her hips as if she had just made the most important decision of her life.

As Youngji clambered back onto her seat, she dusted off her pants with exaggerated flair, earning a few chuckles from the crew. Settling into her chair, she reached for her drink, only for Luna to suddenly deadpan, “I must be getting tipsy… I don’t usually pour my feelings out like this.”

Her tone was so unexpectedly dry and serious that the entire room erupted in laughter. Even Youngji slapped the table, her shoulders shaking as she tried to catch her breath.

Luna blinked innocently, bringing her hand up to check her own cheeks for warmth. “Yeah, definitely getting warm…”

Youngji, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, snickered, “Oh no, if you’re getting tipsy, then I’m in serious trouble.” She leaned in closer, almost as if she was about to share a secret, “You know what this means? It’s time for a drinking game.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, watching curiously as Youngji turned towards the front of the set, where one of the crew members handed her something. Youngji grabbed it with a grin, bringing it back to the table like a prize she couldn’t wait to show off.

From behind her back, she revealed a toy: the Pop-Up Pirate game, except instead of the usual pirate figure in the barrel, it was a tiny Hello Kitty, and the entire barrel was painted pink with adorable little hearts.

Luna’s eyes lit up, a mixture of amusement and surprise flickering across her face. “That’s so cute!” she exclaimed, pointing at the Hello Kitty figure. Her attention was half on the game and half on the food still on her plate, absentmindedly eating as Youngji prepared the game.

Youngji was in her element now, the gin starting to take full effect as she chaotically began explaining the rules, her words coming out in a rapid, excited slur. “Okay, okay, here’s how it works. You stick the swords in the barrel—” she made a dramatic poking motion, “—and when Hello Kitty pops up? Boom, you gotta take a shot.”

Luna nodded slowly, processing the instructions as she chewed on her food, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Still mid-bite, she asked, “What does the winner get?”

There was a pause.

Everyone turned to look at her, including the crew, and they couldn’t hold back their laughter at how adorable she looked, her face stuffed with food, eyes wide with curiosity. “She’s so cute,” one of the staff whispered to another, and Youngji pointed at Luna, grinning like she’d found her new favorite thing.

“Bragging rights, obviously!” Youngji declared triumphantly, waving her hand as if that was the ultimate prize.

Luna simply nodded, her cheeks still full as she swallowed her bite. “Got it,” she said, her voice muffled but satisfied.

Youngji, still laughing under her breath, scooted some glasses out of the way, creating space in the middle of the table. With an overly dramatic flourish, she placed the pink barrel in the center, the little Hello Kitty bobbing slightly in its spot.

Youngji, with her trademark tipsy grin, raised her arms in the air like she was signaling a race. “Alright, let’s start!” she slurred excitedly.

Luna, still chewing quietly, gave a little “Ok” hand sign, her cheeks slightly puffed out with food, causing more chuckles from the crew.

Youngji wobbled a little in her chair before turning her attention to Luna, who was still chewing. “Since you’re the guest…” Youngji waved her hand dramatically toward the Hello Kitty barrel. “You go first!”

Luna, still in her quiet, focused state, swallowed her last bite and calmly reached over to the tiny pink sword resting on the table. She picked it up, inspecting it for a second before leaning in toward the barrel. She found an empty slot and gingerly inserted the sword into the opening.

The crew watched closely, but Hello Kitty remained safely inside.

“Ahhh, close one,” Youngji teased, her voice slurred as she pointed at Luna. “See? Beginner’s luck… but don’t worry, it won’t last.”

Luna simply smiled, staying quiet as she reached for another bite of food. It was now Youngji’s turn, and she stood up, suddenly all fired up. “Alright, alright. Watch this!” she boasted, picking up her mini sword with exaggerated importance. “I’m, like, really good at this game. Haven’t lost once.”

The crew exchanged knowing glances, stifling their laughter, but Youngji didn’t notice. She rambled on, standing over the pink barrel. “See, the key is to—” But before she could finish her sentence, she slid her sword into the slot, and with a loud pop, Hello Kitty flew out of the barrel.

The entire crew burst into laughter, clapping and pointing at Youngji’s misfortune as she stood there frozen in shock, mouth open in disbelief.

Luna, meanwhile, glanced up at Youngji with her big doe eyes, still chewing quietly, almost like she was mentally asking, What was that?

The silence was broken when the crew started chanting, “Shot! Shot! Shot!” Luna bopped her head lightly to the chant, finding the whole situation far too amusing.

Youngji snapped back to reality, letting out a playful groan as she reached for the bottle to pour herself a shot. “Alright, alright, I get it. I lost,” she mockingly declared, waving off the crowd with fake defeat as she poured the drink. “I’ll drink, I’ll drink…”

Luna, having swallowed her bite by now, deadpanned, “Wah, Youngji, you really have bad luck.”

The crew erupted into even louder laughter, and Youngji scoffed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the shade being thrown at her. “Yah! It’s not that! I told you, you’re just too lucky!”

Luna, with her perfect comedic timing, tilted her head slightly and responded, “It could be both.”

Youngji had barely raised the shot glass to her lips when Luna’s words hit, causing her to almost spit out her drink as she laughed. The sight of Youngji trying to keep it together only made the crew laugh harder.

Luna chuckled at the chaos she’d just created, clearly entertained by how easily her words had thrown Youngji off balance.

Youngji, still giggling from her last defeat, slapped her hands on the table and leaned toward Luna, her words slightly slurring. “Alright, round two. We’re doing another one!” She pointed dramatically at the barrel, her drunken determination shining through.

Luna smirked and nodded calmly, her coolness an amusing contrast to Youngji’s energetic chaos. “Sure,” she said, her voice even. “Let’s do it.”

They reset the barrel, and Youngji, with exaggerated concentration, handed Luna another pink sword. “You first,” she slurred, pretending to be gracious.

Luna inserted her sword into the barrel with ease, Hello Kitty remained still.

Youngji shot her a suspicious look, leaning in toward the toy. “This time for sure,” she muttered under her breath as she selected her own sword. She raised it above her head like it was a lightsaber. “Watch and learn,” she bragged, but her hand wobbled as she inserted the sword— nothing happened.

Luna, still calm, chose her next sword without much fuss, slipping it in.

Again, nothing.

Youngji was clearly trying to psyche herself up. “You know,” she said, slurring slightly, “I have a theory. I think this Hello Kitty likes me. That’s why she’s staying in, she doesn’t want to leave me.” She poked at the toy’s head playfully.

Luna bit back a smile. “Maybe you’re too nice. You should try being more firm with her.”

Youngji shook her head, picking up another sword. “Oh, no, no, no. It’s all about finesse.” She placed her sword into the barrel, her fingers barely grazing the surface as she bragged, “See, I—” But her sentence was cut off by the sudden pop of the toy, and Hello Kitty flew out, shocking them both.

The crew erupted in laughter again as Youngji froze in disbelief, her hands raised in surrender. “Noooo!” she cried, her voice dramatically slurred as she pointed accusingly at the barrel. “I swear this game is rigged.”

Luna calmly looked at her, then tilted her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I don’t think Hello Kitty likes you that much,” she deadpanned.

The crew lost it, laughing even harder at Luna’s cool and dry delivery. Youngji’s jaw dropped, her hands flailing toward Luna as she exclaimed, “You— Luna… you’re too much.” She poured herself a shot as the crew continued to chant, “Shot! Shot! Shot!”

Luna sat back, watching the scene unfold, her smile subtle but growing as Youngji dramatically poured her drink. “You’re too lucky!” Youngji whined, shooting Luna a side-eye.

Luna leaned in slightly. “Or maybe,” she quipped, “you’re just that unlucky.”

Youngji snorted and almost choked on her drink. “It’s both,” she said between coughs, while Luna chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained.

Youngji, wiping her eyes from the laughter, looked at Luna with a sly grin. “Alright, alright, you won fair and square, but now… since you’re on a winning streak, you have to do something special for the viewers.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her tone dripping with mischief. “How about a little dance from SEVENTEEN’s new comeback song, ‘_WORLD’? Give the people what they want!”

Luna, mid-chuckle, raised an eyebrow in amusement, “You want me to dance now? Here?”

“Yes!” Youngji pointed at her dramatically, her words slurred with excitement. “You gotta show off for the audience. It’s what the fans want! Plus, you’re on a roll.”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, “You just want to see me dance.”

Youngji waved her hands dismissively. “Noooo!” Then, leaning in, she added with a wink, “Okay, maybe a little. But you always look amazing, I swear!”

With a small laugh, Luna reached for her phone, scrolling quickly to find the song, and joked. “Fine, fine, but don’t blame me if this goes viral.”

As Luna pulled up the track, Youngji suddenly snatched an empty glass cup from the table. “Wait, wait, wait! Put your phone in here!” she exclaimed, slurring the words as she held the cup out.

Luna’s laughter bubbled up as she realized what Youngji was suggesting. “You want to make a makeshift speaker?”

“Exactly!” Youngji nodded vigorously. “Trust me, it’ll make it sound soooo much better.”

Giggling, Luna placed her phone in the glass, and the music immediately amplified, filling the room with the upbeat rhythm of ‘_WORLD.’ Youngji clapped her hands with delight. “See? I’m a genius!”

Luna shook her head in amusement, standing up from her seat. “Okay, genius. Let’s see if I can pull this off tipsy.”

With the song blasting from the cup-turned-speaker, Luna waddled over to the small open space next to the table. Her movements were playful and exaggerated as she shuffled, her hands spread slightly for balance, eliciting laughter from Youngji and the crew.

Youngji, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from the alcohol clapped loudly. “Luna! Luna!” she cheered, her slurred voice barely keeping up with the rhythm.

As the chorus hit, Luna’s body naturally found the beat. Though the space was small and her head was a bit light from the drinks, she danced with an effortless grace, keeping her movements lively but controlled. She twirled lightly, then shot smiles and winks toward the camera, her face lighting up with the same charisma she showed on stage during performances.

Youngji, her enthusiasm spilling over, hollered, “Oh! Yesss! That’s it! Kill it, girl!” Her hands flailed in the air as she danced along with the song, albeit off-key and with a few mumbled words spilling out of her mouth.

The crew joined in, cheering and clapping, egging Luna on. Luna made eye contact with one of the cameras and winked, her expression flipping into full performance mode as she hit the final moves of the snippet. Her smile never wavered, and her eyes gleamed with playful confidence as if she were on stage at a massive concert rather than in a cozy room with tipsy friends.

As the chorus ended, Luna slowed her movements, bowing with a flourish as the music continued softly in the background. The room erupted into applause, Youngji leading the charge with a loud, “Woooo!” She slumped back into her seat, still clapping like an overenthusiastic fan.

“You’re too good! Too good!” Youngji exclaimed between claps, her words slurring even more now. “I don’t know how you do it. If I were you, I’d have fallen on my face by now!”

Luna giggled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, thank you,” she said dramatically, bowing again. “But that was just me joking around.”

Youngji threw her hands up in mock disbelief. “Joking around?! Girl, that was perfection. I’m so jealous right now. I have a list now— I need thirteen best friends and your talent.”

Luna shook her head, laughing softly as she made her way back to the table. “You can have the best friends part, but the dancing? That’s all hard work.”

“Hard work and a little magic,” Youngji slurred, pouring herself another drink. She raised the glass toward Luna, still basking in the afterglow of the impromptu performance.

The crew chuckled at the toast, and Luna, a bit bashful, held up her glass in return. “I’ll take that,” she said with a grin. “Thank you, Youngji.”

They clinked glasses, Youngji still humming the melody of ‘_WORLD’ under her breath, completely content as Luna sat back down, feeling a little more lighthearted and relaxed.

Youngji, still buzzing from Luna’s impromptu performance, leaned forward with a playful grin. Her words came out slurred but full of curiosity. “Okay, okay, I gotta know,” she said, waving her hand dramatically in the air. “How do you do those killer facial expressions? Like… when you perform, you’re so good at it! Do you… like… practice in front of the mirror or something?”

Luna, who was nibbling on her pizza, chuckled softly and shook her head. “It’s not something I practice on purpose, really. I think it’s a talent I didn’t know I had, but it actually comes from ballet.”

“You do facial expressions in ballet?” Youngji repeated, eyes wide in drunken fascination. “Like… swan stuff?”

Luna nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, exactly. Facial expressions are really important in ballet. You have to convey a lot of emotion with your face because there’s no speaking. I think I just got used to emphasizing that, and when I perform with SEVENTEEN, it’s kind of second nature.”

Youngji stared at her, processing the information through her tipsy haze. “So… when you’re dancing, all those expressions… it’s like, fun for you? Like you enjoy making those faces?”

Luna nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually really fun. I think it helps relay the message of the song better. It’s one thing to dance, but if your face tells the story too, it’s more impactful.”

Youngji nodded vigorously. “Totally. Totally. So, like… what’s your favorite kind of expression? Like, do you like the cute stuff, or…?”

Luna laughed, glancing at her hands for a moment before answering. “I’m actually not that good at cute expressions,” she admitted, her voice a little shy. “I prefer the sexy, more mature, and cool looks.”

Youngji gasped in mock outrage. “Not good at cute?! Are you kidding? You’re, like, naturally cute! You literally proved that earlier when you danced!”

Luna couldn’t help but laugh again, nodding her head as she humored Youngji. “Thank you, I guess,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“No, seriously,” Youngji insisted, her eyes wide with sincerity. “I’m telling the truth! You’re cute and sexy— it’s unfair!” She slapped the table lightly, the alcohol clearly fueling her exaggerated emotions.

Luna shook her head, still chuckling. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

But Youngji wasn’t done. With a sudden burst of energy, she clapped her hands. “Show us again! Show us those cute facial expressions while you dance. Come on, just one more time!”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, though she was clearly enjoying the teasing. “What song should I play, then?” she asked, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her playlist.

Youngji thought for a moment, her face scrunched up in concentration. Then, as if a lightbulb had gone off, she shot up from her seat, clapping her hands together. “Oh! ‘Pretty U’! ‘Pretty U’! You have to do that one!” she shouted, pointing at Luna with wild excitement.

Luna raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile creeping up on her lips. “‘Pretty U’? Really?”

“Yes!” Youngji slurred, nearly tripping over her own enthusiasm. “It’s perfect!”

With a cool nod, Luna found the song, played it, and once again placed her phone in the glass cup. As the music started, she stood up and stretched slightly, her movements slow and exaggerated as she prepared herself. “I’m really not good at cute expressions, you know,” she murmured under her breath as she walked back to the small open space.

Youngji, already swaying to the melody, slurred in disagreement. “Lies! Lies, I tell you! You perform this song so well! You’re gonna be adorable!”

Before Luna could start, Youngji held up a hand. “Wait, wait! You need a shot for more confidence!” She grabbed the bottle and poured a generous shot, handing it to Luna with a wide grin.

Luna burst out laughing, but she took the shot, downed it, and nodded at Youngji. “Alright, fine. Let’s see how this goes.”

As the bright, bubbly chorus of ‘Pretty U’ began to play, Luna shifted her demeanor. Her expression softened, a bright smile breaking across her face as she danced along to the chorus, the usual choreography mixed with over-the-top cute facial expressions. She batted her eyelashes toward the camera, made exaggerated heart signs, and even puffed her cheeks as she twirled lightly in the tiny space.

Youngji and her crew erupted into cheers and laughter, clapping wildly as Luna continued to dance. “You’re so cute!” Youngji shouted, her voice cracking from the sheer enthusiasm. “Yes, Luna, yes!”

As the chorus ended, Luna spun around and faced Youngji, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. “Happy now?”

Youngji, now standing on her seat, clapping like an excited seal, nodded furiously. “Bravo! Bravo!” she shouted, her hands slapping together in rapid succession. “You nailed it, girl! I knew it!”

Luna, unable to contain her amusement, doubled over in laughter at the sight of Youngji standing on her chair, her face red with intoxicated excitement. “This is… you’re too much,” Luna giggled, shaking her head as the crew continued to cheer her on.

Youngji, still clapping and bouncing slightly on her chair, repeated, “Bravo!” in a slurred voice, clearly having the time of her life as Luna continued to laugh at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

Youngji, still high from the energy of Luna’s previous performance, wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. “Okay, okay, but now,” she slurred, eyes gleaming with excitement, “you gotta do your smirking, flirty face. You know the one I’m talking about!” She attempted a seductive smirk herself but ended up giggling at her own drunken attempt.

Luna was still laughing from Youngji’s dramatic cheering, but she played along. “Am I here to perform for you?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I play ‘HOT’ then? I feel like that’s the right vibe.”

Youngji’s reaction was immediate. She threw her hands up in the air, nearly tipping over on her chair. “Yes! ‘HOT’! Play it! That’s perfect!” she slurred with an exaggerated nod, her eyes wide with excitement.

With a cool, playful grin, Luna nodded and began scrolling through her playlist again, quickly finding the song. She placed her phone back into the makeshift glass speaker, the familiar intro of their song ‘HOT’ filling the room.

As the beat thumped through the small space, Luna shuffled back to the tiny open area, preparing herself. She glanced at Youngji, who was practically bouncing on top of her seat with anticipation. The chorus was nearing, and Luna’s demeanor shifted. Her playful expression turned more intense, eyes narrowing slightly as a slow, confident smirk spread across her lips.

Then, the chorus hit, and Luna moved effortlessly into the choreography of ‘HOT’, her body swaying with purpose. This time, instead of the playful cuteness, she exuded pure confidence, every movement sharp and deliberate. Her eyes locked with the camera, and there it was— that signature smirk that had fans going wild during SEVENTEEN’s performances. It was flirtatious and cool as if she knew exactly the effect she was having on anyone watching.

Youngji’s cheers grew louder. “Yes, Luna! That’s it! Work it! Girl crush, girl crush!” she yelled, practically shaking the chair as she stood on it, barely keeping her balance.

The crew joined in, clapping along and hyping Luna up as she danced, her expression never faltering from that seductive smirk.

Luna gave it her all, despite the limited space, the teasing expressions adding to the sultry energy of the song. Her hands moved in sync with the choreography, her movements fluid, and her eyes held that playful glint throughout the performance. It was as if she was commanding the entire room with just a look.

As the chorus came to a close, Luna slowed her movements, landing in a final pose with a flick of her hair and a wink at the camera, her smirk still intact. She let the last beat of the chorus fade out before straightening up, her cool expression breaking into a wide grin.

The room exploded in applause. Youngji, completely losing it, began clapping like a seal again, still standing on her chair, swaying dangerously. “Girl crush! You’re my girl crush!” she screamed, her voice cracking but filled with affection. “You’re so cool! How are you so cool? I’m in love!”

Luna, laughing at Youngji’s loud declaration, waved her hands in mock modesty. “Alright, alright, calm down!” she teased, unable to stop grinning at Youngji’s over-the-top reaction.

Youngji wasn’t having it though. She threw her hands up again, this time almost losing her balance. “No, seriously! You’re my girl crush! That was so hot!”

Luna could only laugh harder, holding her stomach as the crew joined in on the fun, clapping and cheering in agreement with Youngji. It was clear that the mood in the room was infectious, the playful energy carrying them through the rest of the night.

Luna slumped back into her seat, dramatically wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Okay, enough dancing,” she mock-panted, shooting Youngji a playful look. “I swear, one more move and I might black out.”

Youngji was still laughing and clapping like an overexcited fan, her voice slurring as she said, “Nooo, I can’t help it! I have a crush on you!” She repeated it, slurring the words, “I have a crush on Luna!” with the goofiest grin.

Luna giggled at her new friend’s antics before deadpanning, “Youngji… are you okay?” She raised an eyebrow, watching Youngji as she struggled to pour them another shot without spilling the soju. “You need to stop drinking,” Luna teased but held out her glass anyway, accepting the next round.

They clinked their glasses together with a loud clank, and both of them downed the shot. Youngji, eyes now heavy but still bright with mischief, turned to her and slurred, “Are you still okay, my crush?”

Luna tilted her head and took the shot with no reaction, her face entirely calm. “I’m almost there,” she said smoothly. “Tipsy, but still here.” She couldn’t help but laugh afterward, leaning forward slightly, “So, ‘my crush,’ huh? Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Youngji nodded furiously, her words tumbling out incoherently. “Yes, yes! My crush! You’re so cool, like— so cool.” Her eyes sparkled with admiration, the alcohol amplifying every bit of sincerity in her voice.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head at the adorable mess in front of her. “Okay, okay, your crush,” she played along, her tone light and teasing.

But Youngji wasn’t done. She wiped at her eyes dramatically, looking as serious as she could muster under her drunken haze. “I like people with duality, you know? People who can be both cute and sexy. Do you— do you have a celebrity crush?” She leaned in, her interest suddenly piqued.

Luna shook her head, still smiling. “Not really into real people like that. Honestly,” she answered, “most of my crushes have been on fictional characters from movies, shows, or books.” She laughed softly, remembering her own obsessions.

Youngji’s eyes widened, and then, as if she had just recalled something groundbreaking, she clapped her hands together loudly, nearly knocking her shot glass over. “Wait! I heard you have the biggest crush on Loki from Marvel!”

Luna couldn’t help but burst into laughter, clapping her hands in sync with Youngji’s excitement. She leaned back into her seat, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh my god, yes,” she admitted through giggles. “Loki is… well, who doesn’t have a crush on him?”

Youngji, clearly invested now, leaned forward, eyes wide with curiosity. “Wait, wait, hold on,” she bombarded Luna, her words slightly slurred but enthusiastic. “What do you like about him? He’s handsome, sure, but he’s the bad guy, right? Is that your type?” Her voice rose playfully, her brows wiggling mischievously as if she’d uncovered something scandalous.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head at the accusation, her smile widening as the conversation shifted into familiar territory. “I mean I don’t have a specific type. Yeah, he’s handsome, and yeah, he’s the bad guy— kind of.” She began slowly, her voice steady but carrying more energy than it had earlier, an unmistakable sign that the alcohol was loosening her up more than she realized. “But that’s not why I like him.”

She straightened in her seat, her hands animated now as she started explaining, the words pouring out faster as she became more passionate about her topic. “It’s not just about him being a bad guy, you know? It’s his personality— he has this… this charm,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “He’s got this dry sense of humor that makes you laugh even when you don’t expect it. And the way he’s confident, but not in an obnoxious way. It’s more subtle like he knows he’s smart and capable, but he doesn’t need to prove it all the time.”

Youngji, who had been hanging onto every word, nodded in agreement, though clearly a little lost in the rapid-fire speech. “Hmm, that makes sense… but he still likes to cause trouble, right? Mischief? Isn’t that a big part of it?”

Luna grinned, leaning in a little as if sharing a secret. “Exactly! He’s mischievous,” she repeated with emphasis, her eyes glinting with something more. “But it’s not just for the sake of it— there’s always something deeper, something clever behind it. He’s always ten steps ahead, and that’s what makes him so interesting.” She paused for a beat, her mind briefly wandering, before she added with a softer, almost playful smile, “I guess I’ve always been drawn to that kind of personality… intelligent and calculated guys are very attractive to me.”

As Luna spoke, she unconsciously revealed more than she intended. Her words, though directed at Loki, seemed to resonate with something— or rather, someone— else entirely.

The qualities she was describing weren’t just about a fictional character; they mirrored those of her boyfriend, Jeonghan, with startling accuracy. He, too, had that sly, playful nature, that effortless confidence that both infuriated and charmed everyone around him.

Youngji, perhaps too tipsy to pick up on the underlying hints, nodded along, her chin resting on her hand as she gazed at Luna with fascination. “You’re really passionate about this,” she slurred, blinking slowly. “I get it, though. Mischievous guys… they keep things exciting, huh?”

Luna laughed softly, her cheeks slightly flushed from both the alcohol and the direction of the conversation. “Yeah, they do,” she admitted, a knowing glint in her eye. “It’s fun. You never quite know what’s coming, but it’s always worth it in the end.”

Youngji slapped her hand on the table suddenly, making Luna jump a little. “I knew it!” she declared, pointing at Luna dramatically. “You do have a type! Mischievous, funny, smart— Loki-type!” She was laughing now, clearly enjoying her discovery, even though she wasn’t aware of just how on-the-nose her comment really was.

Luna, unable to hold back her laughter, nodded in playful surrender. “Okay, maybe I do,” she said, her voice light, though there was a warmth behind it that hinted at something deeper— something personal.

Youngji, still clearly invested in Luna’s rant about Loki, tilted her head in thought, a playful glint in her eye. “Wait, so… do you like guys with long hair too? You know, since Loki’s rocking that,” she asked, her voice teasing as her words slurred slightly. She wiggled her fingers dramatically in the air, mimicking Loki’s flowing locks as if she’d stumbled onto another part of Luna’s type.

Luna, catching on to where Youngji was going with this, chuckled and shook her head, but there was a playful gleam in her eyes. “I don’t really have a preference when it comes to looks,” she replied thoughtfully, her words slower as if she was choosing them carefully, though the slight smile on her lips suggested otherwise. “Long hair, short hair— it doesn’t really matter to me.”

There was a brief pause as Luna took another bite of her food, but then she added, “But… if he can pull off both, then that’s even better.” She let out a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow as if she were sharing a secret. “Though, I might be biased toward long hair. Just a little.”

Youngji’s eyes widened dramatically, and she shot up from her seat, clapping loudly as if she had just uncovered the greatest revelation. “Aha! I knew it!” she slurred, pointing at Luna as if she had caught her red-handed. “You say you don’t have a type, but you do! Mischievous, smart guys with long hair!” Her voice was loud and excited, the alcohol clearly making her voice louder than she intended.

Luna threw herself back in her chair, laughing uncontrollably at Youngji’s dramatic outburst. “What are you talking about?” she managed to say between fits of laughter, waving her hands as if to defend herself. “I never said that!”

But Youngji wasn’t having it.

“Ya! Luna you can’t fool me,” Youngji slurred then she turned toward the camera, still pointing at Luna with a wobbly finger. “You heard it here first, everyone!” she announced, her words slurring even more. “Luna likes mischievous, intelligent guys who can rock both short and long hair… but especially long!”

Luna, still cackling in the background, waved her hands in surrender. “I didn’t say that!” she protested, though her laughter betrayed her.

It was obvious to both of them and probably everyone watching, that she wasn’t exactly disagreeing with the assessment.

Youngji, proud of her deduction, grinned ear to ear and sat back down, clearly satisfied with herself. “I knew it,” she repeated, nodding sagely as if she had just solved a mystery.

Just as Youngji settled back, still grinning from her triumphant deduction, Luna’s phone dinged from its place in the glass, the sound echoing in the small room. The noise caught their attention immediately, both sets of eyes snapping toward the device as if fate itself had decided to weigh in on the conversation.

Luna’s phone screen lit up, casting a soft glow through the glass. Only she and Youngji could see the notification, and as Luna lifted her phone slightly to check, she froze for a second.

The screen displayed a single message— from Jeonghan. And there, beneath his name, was the very same Jeonghan’s face grinning lazily back at them, clear as day on her wallpaper.

Youngji’s tipsy eyes widened at the sight, and though her speech was still slurred from the alcohol, her voice carried a teasing lilt as she blurted, “See? I knew it.”

Luna burst into laughter, throwing herself against Youngji’s shoulder as if to beg her to stop from being too obvious, her whole body shaking with mirth. But the playful exchange only fueled Youngji more. She raised her hands in mock innocence, trying to cover for Luna in the most transparent way possible.

“I knew it!” Youngji repeated, but then quickly amended herself, glancing mischievously around the room. “I mean, come on, one of your members was bound to check in on you at some point, right?” She added a little wink, though her teasing tone couldn’t have been more blatant.

Luna, still caught in a fit of giggles, sat up a bit, trying to compose herself. She could only shake her head as she looked down at the message, her cheeks flushed both from laughter and the alcohol.

The moment was filled with shared glances and inside jokes, one of those times when words weren’t necessary to convey understanding. Even though Luna and Jeonghan’s relationship was a secret from the public, Youngji’s playful cover was enough to keep things lighthearted, avoiding too much attention while still teasing Luna about the not-so-hidden truth.

Youngji, still half-smirking, decided to play innocent as she leaned in closer, feigning curiosity. “So… who texted you?” she asked, dragging out the question as if she hadn’t seen the name flash across the screen just moments before.

Luna was still recovering from her laughing fit, her entire body shaking as she clutched her stomach with one hand, the other wiping away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Every time she tried to speak, another wave of giggles overtook her, leaving her gasping for air. The crew watched on with amusement, chuckling softly as they witnessed Luna’s complete surrender to the hilarity of the situation.

Youngji, however, put on her best serious face, her brow furrowing in exaggerated concern. “Luna are you okay?” she asked, her tone mockingly stern. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening as she studied Luna’s uncontrollable laughter. “You won’t stop laughing… I think you need to go home.”

The crew erupted into laughter at Youngji’s deadpan delivery, but Luna, still giggling, managed to shake her head, clutching her tummy as if trying to rein herself in. “I don’t want to go home!” she protested, taking a deep breath to calm down.

After a brief pause, she finally managed to answer Youngji’s earlier question, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes. “It’s Jeonghannie oppa,” she said, her voice still a little breathless from laughing so hard.

Youngji raised an eyebrow, her playful expression returning. “He knows you’re here filming, right?” she teased, still pretending to be oblivious. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Do you want to share with the class what he said, or not?”

Luna, now calmer, picked up her phone from the glass. She opened the message and quickly scanned it before reading aloud, her tone light and casual. “He said, ‘Call me when you’re done and on the way here.’” She locked her phone again and set it aside, still smiling.

Youngji, slurring slightly from the alcohol, leaned in with mock curiosity. “Where are you going after this?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as if trying to unravel some great mystery.

Luna chuckled at her exaggerated tone. “I have practice after this,” she explained, still amused by Youngji’s playful interrogation. The casual exchange, despite its lightheartedness, held the warmth of friendship, each teasing comment laced with genuine affection.

Youngji suddenly perked up, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “I have an idea!” she exclaimed, a little louder than she intended, which made Luna jump slightly in her seat. “Text Jeonghan-ssi. Let’s prank him.”

Luna, clearly enjoying where this was headed, giggled in anticipation, her fingers already moving toward her phone. “What should I say?” she asked, the excitement in her voice palpable as she unlocked her phone. The atmosphere felt lighter now, the earlier tension of the drinks and deeper conversation melting into a more playful vibe.

“Tell him,” Youngji leaned closer as if they were conspiring, “that you can’t do this anymore.”

Luna’s eyes widened before she broke into another fit of laughter, covering her mouth as if trying to stifle it. “He’s not going to fall for that,” she said, though her hands were already typing out the exact message Youngji had suggested:

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

As she pressed send, Luna glanced at Youngji and said with a smirk, “Hannie oppa is too sharp for this. He won’t be easily fooled, h–”

But her playful assurance was cut short when, mid-sentence, the familiar ringtone of her phone echoed in the room, cutting through the conversation like a hot knife.

The room went still for a moment.

The crew gasped, some even giggling at the sudden shift, while Youngji, now fully invested in the chaos she’d started, shot up in her seat. “Oh my god! Girl, answer the phone!” she gasped, her eyes wild with amusement, leaning even closer toward Luna.

Luna blinked at her phone in disbelief, the name ‘my angel boy🪽’ lighting up her screen, the ringtone growing louder in the otherwise silent space. She looked at Youngji with wide eyes, her voice now a whisper, “What should I say?”

There was a tiny hint of panic behind her words, her excitement starting to mix with nervous energy.

Youngji, half-slurring, was all for the drama. “Tell him…” she paused for effect, her words dripping with amusement, “…tell him you couldn’t do this anymore because I was asking you weird questions!”

Luna hesitated, biting her lip in mild panic. “Youngji… you’re really… crazy,” she muttered, but before she could back out, she quickly hit the answer button, her voice coming out steadier than she felt.

Luna placed her phone on speaker, her fingers trembling slightly from the mixture of excitement and nerves. Before she could even get a word out, Jeonghan’s deep, yet soft voice filled the room, echoing through the small space.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone gentle but with a hint of concern.

Luna, knowing Jeonghan so well after all these years, immediately understood the shift.

His voice was usually so bright and sing-song, always answering the phone with an upbeat tone that instantly lifted her spirits. But now, his seriousness threw her off, and she winced, shooting Youngji and the crew a pained look.

Youngji, though, was undeterred, grinning like the devil on her shoulder and silently urging her to keep going.

“O-oppa…” Luna started, trying her best to sound sad, though her voice trembled with the urge to burst into laughter.

Jeonghan hummed on the other end of the line, a soft noise that nudged her to continue.

“I just finished the interview,” she added, her tone still shaky.

Another hum from Jeonghan, quiet and calm.

“She was asking weird questions,” Luna said, attempting a sad sigh but immediately covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

There was a beat of silence from Jeonghan’s side.

The kind of silence that made everyone in the room freeze for a moment.

Luna could feel the intensity of it, like he was trying to process her words while keeping his composure.

Then, finally, his voice came through again, still soft but now with an underlying sharpness that made both Luna and Youngji cringe.

“What questions?” he asked, his voice careful, as though he was trying not to jump to conclusions too quickly, but the edge was unmistakable.

Youngji, who had been grinning from ear to ear, suddenly stood up from her seat, backing herself playfully against the wall as if trying to escape Jeonghan’s indirect scolding.

Luna, on the other hand, was struggling, tears forming in her eyes as she stretched her arm out, holding the phone away from her mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back her laughter.

“Jiyeon-ah,” Jeonghan’s voice came again, firmer this time. “What questions?”

Luna smiled through the fear knowing how rare Jeonghan called her by her real name, but she stopped herself just before answering, her acting skills being tested more than ever. She sighed dramatically, leaning into the role. “Just…”

Before she could even finish, Jeonghan’s voice cut her off, his words making Luna cringe hard.

“Do you want me to tell Seungcheol?” he asked, the mention of their leader’s name hitting like a warning shot.

Luna’s entire body tensed at that.

She knew Seungcheol, would absolutely flip if he thought Luna was upset about something serious.

Youngji, still up against the wall, shook her head frantically at Luna, playfully waving goodbye at the camera as if she was terrified of the situation she’d created. Luna gestured for her to come back, laughing even as she tried to keep up the charade.

“No!” Luna quickly blurted out, cringing at the thought of Seungcheol getting involved. “No, I’m on the way back anyway— I’ll talk to Coupsie.”

There was another long pause.

Luna could practically hear Jeonghan processing her words.

Then, finally, his voice echoed through the phone again, calmer, but still holding that careful tone.

“You’re on the way back?” he asked.

“Yes, I just finished,” Luna answered, keeping her voice steady, though she could feel the tension building.

Another pause.

“You finished the interview and you’re on your way back?” Jeonghan repeated as if summarizing everything she’d said.

Luna blinked, her smile twitching. “Yes, why?”

There was a longer silence this time.

Everyone in the room was holding their breath, waiting for his next words.

Then, in a tone that was now playfully amused, Jeonghan finally spoke again.

“Out of all the people you could prank, you decided to prank me?”

Luna burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking as the entire room seemed to release a collective gasp.

Youngji was staring at her in disbelief, her mouth slightly open as she looked around at the crew. “How did he find out?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Luna giggled, covering her face with her hands as she tried to apologize. “Youngji made me do it!”

From the phone, Jeonghan simply went, “Ah.” His voice, now fully relaxed, was teasingly amused.

Youngji, still shocked, stuttered shyly, “J-Jeonghan-ssi, hello.”

“Oh, hello, Youngji-ssi,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, his voice as polite and soft as ever.

Luna, still laughing, finally asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How did you know I was joking?”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, then explained, “I didn’t know at first. But when you said you finished the interview, something felt off.” He paused, then continued, “You’re the type of person who would just end the interview yourself if you were uncomfortable or disrespected by the questions. You wouldn’t wait to finish.”

Luna smiled, understanding exactly what he meant.

She had always been one to speak her mind and walk away from anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“And,” Jeonghan added, his voice even more teasing now, “I could hear you smiling while you spoke.”

Luna shook her head, chuckling again. “I told you he wouldn’t fall for it,” she said, turning to Youngji, who just sat there, still in disbelief at how quickly Jeonghan had caught on.

Youngji slumped back into her seat, still stunned, as Luna’s laughter echoed in the room.

Luna, her laughter finally dying down, looked at her phone and said, “Well, since you’re here, oppa, you should say hi to everyone!” She grinned, turning her phone slightly toward the camera, giving Jeonghan a moment to address the viewers.

On cue, Jeonghan’s deep but soothing voice echoed through the room again, still as smooth and soft as ever. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted, his tone polite but with a touch of playful charm. “I hope you’re all doing well. Please continue to take care of Luna while she’s with you today.”

The staff, who had been quietly watching the whole thing unfold, burst into a chorus of hellos and some gave friendly waves toward the phone as if Jeonghan could see them.

Before he could say anything more, Luna, clearly not wanting to give him another second of control over the conversation, interrupted him with a sudden outburst. “Han! It’s so much fun here with Youngji!” she began, her voice rising with excitement, “You should be here too!”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle on the other end, but before he could respond, Youngji leaned into the frame with a wide grin. “He really should come next time! We’ll do a special episode— Luna and Jeonghan together!”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeonghan replied, his voice smooth but with a hint of amusement.

Luna straightened in her seat, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “No, really! You’d love it! Youngji keeps making me laugh, and we’ve been talking about everything— drinks, games, she even made me dance!” She started listing everything off with the same excitement, her voice taking on a childlike tone as she gushed. “And the crew here is so nice! We’ve been playing games, and Youngji asked me so many fun questions— she’s so funny!”

Jeonghan hummed softly in response, the sound was warm and full of affection. “Mm, that sounds like a lot of fun,” he cooed in his signature lazy drawl. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, Nana-ya.”

Luna, encouraged by his response, continued to ramble on, her words spilling out faster now. “And—and you should’ve seen when we started— Youngji made me drink gin and she gave me a lot of food, and we even—” She paused, catching herself, then giggled, clearly realizing she was talking a mile a minute.

Youngji, who had been watching with amusement, leaned toward the camera and whispered to the crew, “This is the most Luna’s spoken today.” The crew chuckled along, nodding in agreement.

Jeonghan, ever the doting boyfriend, was patient and gentle, humming softly every now and then to let her know he was listening. “Ah, really?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, affectionate tone he used with her. “Sounds like you’re having a blast, hmm?”

Luna, her face glowing with excitement, nodded eagerly, even though he couldn’t see her. “I am! I wish you were here! It’s so much fun! And Youngji said next time you can come, and maybe we’ll—”

Jeonghan let out a small, amused laugh, cutting her off gently, “You drank a lot, huh?”

Luna immediately pouted, shaking her head even though Jeonghan couldn’t see her expression. “No, I didn’t! I didn’t drink that much! Only a little…”

Jeonghan chuckled again, this time more indulgently, his tone almost teasing. “Mm, alright. You just spoke a thousand words in one breath, Nana-ya. I think you definitely drank more than a little.”

Luna gasped, mock offended, before laughing again, unable to keep up the act. Youngji and the crew, meanwhile, were in stitches, watching the entire exchange unfold like something out of a rom-com.

Youngji, still giggling, waved toward the camera again. “Jeonghan-ssi, I promise we didn’t force her to drink that much!”

“Oh, I believe you,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, his voice still light with humor. “But Jiyeonie’s not exactly the best at hiding when she’s had a few, is she?”

Luna pouted once more, slumping in her seat. “Oppa!” she whined softly, her tone almost playful as she drew out the syllables.

Jeonghan hummed again, his voice turning soft and doting once more. “It’s okay, I’m just teasing you,” he cooed, that familiar sing-song lilt back in his voice. “I’m glad you’re having fun, really.”

Luna smiled, her heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. No matter how often he teased her, she knew it was always out of love.

Youngji, catching her soft expression, leaned toward the camera with a knowing grin. “See? This is why I said you should prank him. Look how sweet he is.”

Luna nodded, biting her lip to keep from giggling again. She knew Jeonghan wouldn’t stay mad for long, especially when he could tell she was having a good time.

Luna smiled as the laughter in the room finally died down, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her phone. “Okay, Hannie, I’m gonna go now,” she said softly, her voice still carrying traces of the playful energy from moments before.

Jeonghan hummed on the other end, his tone gentle and affectionate. “Mm, okay. Take care, See you later, Jiyeonie.”

Luna’s heart swelled at the warmth in his voice. “You too, oppa. Practice well, okay?”

“I will. I’ll see you soon,” he replied, his voice a low murmur, almost like a promise.

With a soft smile, Luna nodded to herself. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Nana-ya.”

She ended the call, placing the phone gently on the table, but before she could even relax into her seat, her phone lit up again.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen— a text from Jeonghan: ‘Drink water and eat more.’

Luna chuckled, already feeling the warmth of his concern, but before she could even react, Youngji jumped up from her seat, immediately fussing over her. “Aigoo, see! You better listen to him!” she slurred, her movements exaggerated as she grabbed the nearby pitcher of water and began pouring it into Luna’s glass. “You need to eat more too!” she added, piling more food onto Luna’s plate, her eyes wide as if the message from Jeonghan had ignited some maternal instinct in her.

Luna giggled, watching Youngji in amusement as she responded to Jeonghan’s message with a quick, ‘Yes, I’ll eat. Don’t worry 🤍’

Then, she obediently picked up her fork and took a bite of the food, earning a satisfied nod from Youngji, who had taken on the role of Luna’s makeshift caretaker.

Youngji, a bit tipsy and swaying slightly, leaned closer, her words slightly slurred but full of sincerity. “You’re so lucky… He’s really worried about you, huh?”

Luna smiled as she chewed, swallowing before replying. “Well… it’s not just him. The members, especially Jeonghannie and Coupsie oppa, always make sure I’m okay when we’re drinking— especially today.”

Youngji raised a curious eyebrow at that, her tipsy brain trying to keep up with Luna’s words. “Why? What happened?”

Luna let out a soft laugh, realizing Youngji might not remember the story. “It’s because they don’t want another Hoshi incident.”

Youngji blinked, clearly confused. “Hoshi incident?”

Luna nodded, already knowing the moment she mentioned it, the memory would click. “You know, when Hoshi-oppa was here, he got really drunk, right? Well, that same day, we had practice. So, Hoshi showed up to the practice room completely wasted but was still trying to practice like it was nothing.”

Youngji’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and she let out a surprised laugh. “No way!”

Luna grinned, nodding. “Yep. And Jeonghannie oppa filmed the whole thing! There’s a video of drunk Hoshi oppa still trying to do the choreo.” Luna tilted her head and asked, “Did you see the video?”

Youngji’s eyes widened in sudden realization, and she nodded vigorously. “Ohhh! I remember now! I saw that video! Poor guy — I felt so bad but he looked cool, he can dance better drunk than I do sober!”

Luna laughed at Youngji’s dramatic retelling, but before she could say anything else, Youngji waved her hand in front of her, acting like a strict mother. “See, this is why you should go home now,” she said, her voice half-serious, half-teasing, as if she was trying to play both roles of the concerned friend and the playful show host.

Luna couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, the warmth of the moment filling her chest. The combination of Youngji’s tipsy fussing and Jeonghan’s constant concern made her feel wrapped in a bubble of affection— a place where she was cared for in every little way.

With a playful sigh, Luna shook her head. “I don’t want to leave. I’ll eat, I promise.”

“Go home, Luna,” Youngji groaned dramatically, her voice dripping with exaggerated exhaustion, making Luna giggle. The crew burst into laughter at the ongoing playful banter between the two of them, while Luna took another bite of food, ignoring the command.

Luna, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, pouted cutely. “But I don’t want to go!” she whined, her voice slurred slightly as she waved her chopsticks in the air. “I’m having so much fun!”

Youngji, not one to back down, leaned forward and pointed at Luna with mock sternness. “You still have dance practice, Jiyeon-ah! Your members will get mad at me if I let you drink more.”

Luna’s pout deepened as she huffed, rolling her eyes. “They won’t get mad. I’ll just… be a little late,” she slurred, her words drawing out lazily as she reached for more food.

Youngji smirked, shaking her head. “A little late? Girl, do you want me to get in trouble with SEVENTEEN?” She pointed a finger at herself before adding with a mock-terrified look, “That’s two out of fourteen members showing up drunk at their dance practice because of me. S.Coups-ssi might hunt me down.”

The crew burst into laughter again, and Luna, in her slightly tipsy state, let out a high-pitched giggle. “Coupsie oppa would never!” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Youngji teased, her face pulling into a playful grimace as she imitated Seungcheol’s authoritative tone. “I can already hear him— ‘Youngji-ssi, what did you do to Luna?!’”

Luna burst out laughing, swaying slightly as she covered her face with her hands. “Stop, stop!” she giggled, cheeks turning even redder. “He’s not like that… Well, not all the time.”

Youngji shook her head knowingly. “Yeah, right. He’s the leader for a reason. Do you really think he’s going to let this slide?” She crossed her arms, giving Luna a playful yet stern look.

Luna slumped in her seat, her pout returning. “I don’t want to go back,” she mumbled under her breath, acting like a child avoiding bedtime. “It’s too much fun here.”

Youngji let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as if defeated. “Aigoo, this girl,” she muttered. “Your members are going to come for me, I just know it.”

Luna giggled softly after finishing her last bite, wiping her lips with the napkin. She looked at Youngji with a small smile, almost sheepishly. “Alright, alright, I’ll go,” she said with a laugh, realizing that, if she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late for practice for sure.

One of the crew members approached Luna with a grin, holding out a marker and a blank piece of paper. “Luna, can you sign this for us? It’s for the wall— we have all of Youngji’s guests sign it.”

Luna beamed, taking the marker and paper eagerly. “Of course!” She placed the paper on the table, leaning over as she started writing her message. She spoke out loud as she scrawled her words in neat, bold handwriting. “Youngji, you’re the best… from your best friend Luna.”

Youngji, watching over her shoulder, cackled at the message. “Your best friend, huh? I’ve officially been promoted. I’ll take it!”

Luna chuckled, finishing her signature with a small flourish. She handed the paper to Youngji, who took it with a grin. “Aww, look at that!” Youngji teased, waving the paper for the camera. “Everyone, look! Luna thinks I’m the best.”

Luna laughed again, watching as Youngji stood up from her seat, making her way to the wall of signatures. She carefully stuck Luna’s paper up alongside the others, smoothing it out to make sure it was centered. “There you go, you’re officially a part of the wall now,” Youngji said, taking a step back to admire the wall.

“We should take a picture to commemorate this,” Youngji added, turning toward Luna with a playful grin.

Luna nodded, feeling a bit lighter from the drinks but still excited. “Yes, let’s do it.”

One of the staff members quickly grabbed a phone, and Luna and Youngji struck a pose, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Youngji held up a peace sign, while Luna tilted her head to rest against Youngji’s with a bright, tipsy smile. The camera clicked, capturing the moment, and the staff clapped in appreciation of the scene.

As they pulled away from the photo, Luna turned to Youngji with a soft smile. “I had so much fun today,” she said sincerely, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

Youngji grinned, her tone just as warm. “Me too. We should do this again sometime. Maybe next time, I’ll drink more and you can take care of me.”

Luna laughed, nodding. “Deal! I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, they shared a tight hug, Youngji squeezing Luna with a fond chuckle. Luna pulled back slightly, her expression playful as she planted a quick kiss on Youngji’s cheek. “Thank you for having me,” Luna said, bowing her head in gratitude.

Youngji deadpanned, touching her cheek dramatically. “You better go before I steal you from your members and keep you to myself,” she joked, making the staff and crew burst out laughing.

Luna laughed along, turning towards the door, waving and bowing at the crew. “Thank you, everyone! Bye-bye!” she called out, flashing a smile to the camera before making her way out.

The door closed behind her softly, leaving the room filled with the lingering energy of her presence.

In the last moments, the staff and Youngji exchanged looks, a warm laughter spreading around the room. “That was amazing,” Youngji mused, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

The camera panned out, capturing the wall of signatures as it faded to black, Luna’s note standing proudly among the others, a lasting memory of her fun and lively presence.

comments…

@/lunababybae • 2 years ago ╰ their chemistry is perfect! I would love to see more of these two together 😂

@/rinarieee • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeon came in so quiet and composed and then left a loud, giggling mess.

@/gyusshadow • 2 years ago ╰ I gotta hand it to Luna she can drink 🤭

@/moonbae17 • 2 years ago ╰ Youngji calling Luna her girl crush at 19:30 is an actual mood.

@/saythename • 2 years ago ╰ Luna’s deadpan humor is so fucking attractive for some reason 🫠

@/mad-lineeee • 2 years ago ╰ she’s a princess fr fr 💖

@/mrsbaebae • 2 years ago ╰ Luna is so sweet to gift Youngji that set and from Paris too 🤌💋

@/alyy1625 • 2 years ago ╰ Only Bae Jiyeon would not like the taste of beer but would down gin like that with a straight face

@/jeongnanana • 2 years ago ╰ Luna explaining that she just has resting bitch face and that she’s not actually scary is so funny to me cause same 🤣

@/gyuuuuudaily• 2 years ago. ╰ GOD I JUST LOVE HER BRITISH ACCENT SO MUCH 😫 ITS LIKE BUTTER.

@/sallluuuteee17 • 2 years ago ╰ 15:16 “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without them. Sometimes I think about it, you know? In another universe, maybe I didn’t audition, or maybe I didn’t end up in the final lineup… but I still feel like, somehow, I would have found my way to them. Even if it was just as a fan.” Brb I’ll just dry my eyes 🥹

@/lulu-nana17• 2 years ago ╰ 16:30 Luna’s face when Youngji lost the game at the first try 😂

@/gyugyugyugyu_ • 2 years ago ╰ Luna saying she mostly has crushes on fictional characters is such a mood cause same

@/sebongrighthere • 2 years ago ╰ THANK YOU LEE YOUNGJI FOR ASKING LUNA TO DANCE HOT!! IT WAS INDEED HOT 🥵

@/user836837373863 • 2 years ago ╰ “But… if he can pull off both, then that’s even better.” WHO ARE YOU FOOLING, MISS THING?! WE KNOW DAMN WELL WHO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!!

@/missbitchhhh • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeon geeking out about Loki is adorable!!

@/shadowmyshadow• 2 years ago ╰ 20:55 is she even still talking about Loki at this point? Because I swear it’s sound like she’s talking about someone else entirely… iykyk 😝

@/angel7266 • 2 years ago ╰ “He’s got this dry sense of humor that makes you laugh even when you don’t expect it. And the way he’s confident, but not in an obnoxious way. It’s more subtle, like he knows he’s smart and capable, but he doesn’t need to prove it all the time.” ONLY ONE PERSON POPPED IN MY HEAD WHEN SHE SAID THIS AND HIS NAME RHYMES WITH BOON BEONGHAN 😊

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 2 years ago ╰ TELL ME I AM INSANE!? SHE WAS LITERALLY DESCRIBING JEONGHAN THE ENTIRE TIME SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT LOKI!? THE CHARM, THE WIT, THE HUMOR, THE BRAIN, THE MISCHIEVOUSNESS, THE LONG FUCKING HAIR?! EXCUSE ME?!

@/user763816262 • 2 years ago ╰ Jeonghan’s voice during that call 😫

@/ashonashonash_ • 2 years ago ╰ 25:55 Jiyeon got scared when Jeonghan sounded serious for a second.

@/jijijiyeonienie • 2 years ago ╰ Hannie clocking Luna’s prank so fast. He knows her from the inside out fr.

@/kpopfan17 • 2 years ago ╰ who would have thought i would get to see Luna gushing about Yoon Jeonghan *ahem* I mean Loki for a solid minute and a half 😉

@/belleeeee_ • 2 years ago ╰ Youngji knows something we don’t cause look at her reaction when Jeonghan texted 🤭

@/diamondlifeu • 1 year ago ╰ YOON JEONGHAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🥺

@/gyuminggooo • 1 year ago ╰ Hannie called Luna real quick… so quick that I had a fucking whiplash.

@/dailynanana • 1 year ago ╰ She texted him “I can’t do this anymore” I bet Jeonghan was scared shitless.

@/chuuuuchhuu17 • 1 year ago ╰ Jeonghan is so patient with Luna, the way he listened and waited for her to finish her rant was so endearing to see 🥹

@/lalunanova • 1 year ago ╰ “what are you talking about?” Daddy?! 🥵

@/17-carat • 3 weeks ago ╰ 26:22 Youngji backing up the second she heard Jeonghan’s serious voice and at the mention of Cheol 🤣

@/myg145 • 2 weeks ago ╰ Drunk dancing Hoshi really got these guys stressing for Luna’s turn in this show 😂

@/bjy_lover • 1 week ago ╰ I need a man like Yoon Jeonghan. He is the standard! Like, that entire conversation was so cute 🥺💖

[My Alcohol Diary 2.0 — The Aftermath]

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[moosha-mushroom]

Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.

TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.

Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.

Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.

The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.

Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.

Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.

Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.

The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.

Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.

Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.

I am losing my mind.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

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You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

[nanamisdoe-eyedgf]

MY BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND'S DAD

ft. TOJI FUSHIGURO, characters aged up, MDNI

You didn’t know what to expect—your best friend was finally going to introduce you to her boyfriend. You were excited to meet the guy who made her so happy.

The dinner was planned at her boyfriend’s house, and you were totally lost on what to wear. She suggested something casual since you’d also be meeting her boyfriend’s dad for the first time.

Apparently, it was her first time meeting his dad as well, so she wanted to dress decently, even though her boyfriend reassured her she could wear whatever she liked.

After raiding each other’s wardrobes and mixing and matching, you finally settled on a white button-up shirt, a pleated mini skirt, and black Mary Janes with white socks.

Finally, you and your best friend arrived at her boyfriend’s house. She introduced you, “Megumi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Megumi.” She glanced between you both, her smile wide.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you said, smiling as you shook his hand.

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Megumi replied, stepping aside to let you both in.

He led you to the living room, and the three of you started talking, sharing stories and laughs. You learned more about him, how he and your friend met, and how much he cared for her. Seeing your friend with someone so genuine made you happy.

Then, a deep, husky voice interrupted. “You guys planning on sitting there all night, or what?”

The voice was unmistakable, and as you turned, your heart sank. There, leaning casually in the doorway, was Toji. You barely kept your jaw from dropping.

This has to be a mistake…

This can’t be Toji—the same Toji you’d been sneaking around with for the past few months.

The Toji who would always take you to the backseat of his car.

(Flashback)

You and Toji had just walked out of what might have been the most boring movie you’d ever seen. Toji muttered about wasting $15 on the tickets, shaking his head in disbelief as he led you out of the theater and toward his car, his hand firmly holding yours.

“you hungry, girl?” he asked, his gaze lingering on you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Are you?” you replied, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he said, his gaze lingering on your lips.

“There’s food nearby. We could go grab some—” You pulled out your phone, starting to search for fast food places, when Toji took it from your hand.

“I don’t want any of that,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned closer. “I need you.”

You stared straight ahead, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “I…” you struggled to find your voice, feeling your heart race.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” Toji’s amusement was unmistakable as he leaned in, his warm breath brushing your ear, making you shift in your seat. His fingers traced a light line along your jaw, tilting your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I know exactly what you want.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks as his thumb brushed your bottom lip, daring you to respond.

You parted your lips, but no words came out, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Toji's thumb lingered, pressing just enough to make your heart skip.

"You don't have to be so quiet," he whispered, leaning even closer. His lips hovered barely an inch from yours, making your breath hitch. "Tell me, what do you want?"

Every thought felt tangled, each heartbeat louder than the last. His hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head back slightly, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, waiting.

"I..." you started, voice barely a whisper, "I want you."

Toji chuckled, his mouth curving into a smirk. "That wasn't so hard was it?” And with that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and everything you'd been waiting for.

You melted into his touch, letting him take full control—your first mistake.

Toji’s hunger was evident. He smirked and nodded toward the backseat. “Get back there,” he said, voice low and commanding. Obeying, you slid into the back, and he followed right after, shutting the door behind him.

Toji settled in beside you, the air thick with anticipation. He leaned in, his presence enveloping you, leaving no room for hesitation.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asked, his voice low, making your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you met his gaze. “Y-yes..."

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "and good girls deserve a reward,." With a sudden move, he cupped your face, tilting it just enough so that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You’ve been good havent you?," he whispered, nodding your head quickly, he inches closer until his lips hovered just above yours. "Let me take care of you."

With that, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, deepening the kiss as you lost yourself in the moment. Toji's hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt a mix of excitement coursing through your veins.

Toji's touch was possessive, each movement deliberate, and he pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you.

"You're something else," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. Without another word, he shifted, leaning back and pulling you to straddle him, his hands guiding you with an effortless confidence.

Your heart pounded as his hands slid up your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours, intense and unwavering. You felt his fingers trace slow circles, against your clothed clit, his touch both teasing and demanding.

"Toji.." you breathed, his name slipping out almost involuntarily, a mix of anticipation and surrender in your voice. You shakely tug at his waistband, he lifts his hips up, tugging down his jeans and boxers.

The force of him sinking you down on his dick makes your lips part and your head fall back.

He smirked, clearly enjoying every second, every reaction he pulled from you.

"Relax, princess," he whispered, his lips brushing your neck, leaving a trail of heat as he feverishly thrusts his hips into you???

“hmm..” you whimper, his pace quickens as he hears those sweet sounds roll of your lips. The graze of his tip hitting your sweet spongy spot sending shivers down your spine—

"Y/N?" Your best friend's voice broke through your thoughts, and she gently shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality. You cleared your dry throat, feeling a warm flush creeping up your neck as memories from earlier flooded your mind.

"Sorry, yeah." You nodded, following her toward the dining room. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Toji's smirk, his gaze lingering a moment too long, as if he could read exactly what was on your mind.

You all settled around the table— Megumi sitting next to your friend, which left you directly beside Toji.

"The food smells delicious, Mr.Fushiguro," your friend said politely, taking a bite.

Toji chuckled, waving her off. "Oh, come on, girl, you know I didn't cook any of this."

She laughed nervously. "That's fine; I'm not much of a cook myself."

Toji raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You don't cook?"

Your friend shifted slightly, offering a shy smile. "I know a few recipes, but nothing impressive."

Toji simply grunted in response. "Hmm."

"That's enough, Dad." Megumi stepped in, sounding mildly annoyed. "She's my girlfriend, not my mom. I don't need her to cook for me."

Toji let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, kid, I'm just asking." His gaze drifted to you, his eyes gleaming with a familiar mischief. "What about you, darlin'? You cook?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he already knew the answer, but he was enjoying putting you on the spot. "Uh, yeah, I can cook," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Toji shifted his attention back to Megumi and your friend. "So, where'd you two meet?"

Megumi began telling the story, his tone warm as he recounted their first meeting. You tried to focus, but then you felt Toji's hand slide onto your thigh under the table, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Your body freezing at the sudden touch, heat rising to your face.

You shot him a quick, warning look, but he only smirked, his hand pressing just enough to keep you hyper-aware of his presence. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles, hidden from everyone else at the table.

"Y/N, you okay?" your friend asked, noticing your slightly flushed expression.

"Y-yeah," you managed, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

Toji's hand remained, his thumb grazing your clit through your panties in slow, teasing strokes, challenging you to keep your composure. He leaned back, looking perfectly at ease, though there was a glint in his eye that told you he was enjoying this far too much— and you did too.

He knew you did, the way he could feel your cunt pulse against his palm, and you squeezing his hand with your thighs.

Meanwhile, Megumi finished his story, and you nodded along, trying your best to look engaged despite having Toji’s finger slide in and out your wet cunt.

Toji’s presence like a constant pulse beside you. Every time you dared glance his way, he’d catch your eye with that smirk, knowing he has you wrapped around his fingers– literally.

Before you could reach the edge, Toji got up and headed to the kitchen, washing his hands thoroughly, then pulled dessert from the fridge.

And with that, the night wrapped up pretty quickly. As you finished the last bites of dessert, Megumi thanked you and your friend for coming. You could tell he was itching to get her alone, sending her those familiar, lingering glances.

You both stood to gather your things, and Toji’s eyes caught yours one last time, a gleam of unspoken words there that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks for having us, Mr. Fushiguro,” your friend said, her voice slightly breathless with excitement.

Toji leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking at you, every bit as amused as he had at dinner. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice low, almost a purr. “Y’all come back soon.”

You nodded, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious as you and your friend headed to the door. Just before you stepped out, you felt his hand on your back—a touch so light and quick that it was over before your friend could notice. But it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Once you were outside, the cool evening air was a relief, grounding you and pulling you back to the present. Your friend’s cheerful voice filled the quiet as you walked together, her excitement over dinner spilling out.

“So, what’d you think of his dad?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You hesitated, replaying the dinner in your mind, especially that last lingering glance Toji had sent your way. “He seems… nice. He definitely approves of you and Megumi together.”

She beamed, clearly relieved. “Yeah, he’s actually pretty chill. And I mean, I can see where Megumi gets his good looks from.” She nudged your shoulder with a grin.

You laughed, a little too nervously, not sure if you should agree.

“I mean it!” she went on, her laughter bubbling up. “Megumi looks just like his dad. It’s uncanny. Seriously, there’s no way a guy like that is single.”

Your stomach flipped. “Does it matter?” you asked, hoping she wouldn’t catch the hint of tension in your voice.

She shrugged, giving you a sidelong glance. “I’m just saying… he’s pretty handsome for an older guy.”

You forced a laugh, but your mind wandered, and a familiar warmth spread up your neck. The memory of Toji’s hand sliding along your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you he was there, flashed through your mind.

“Maybe he likes the single life,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Or maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl.” She shot you a teasing smile, oblivious to the secret simmering just beneath the surface.

You bit your lip, hoping she didn’t notice how warm your cheeks were getting. “Let’s get going,” you said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

[rileysluvr]

cliché jealousy trope except i suck at dialogue and ghost is a manchild in this but i still love him anyways!! nsfw <3

“Gaz is about to set the rack, if you’d like to join, Lieutenant.” You leaned one hand on his table and twisted your pool stick in the other, bending down to be heard over the loudness of the building.

Something about the way his title rolled off your liquor-smoothed tongue in that syrupy, almost meddlesome tone, had him swallowing thickly under his balaclava. He leaned back against the wall, toying with the glass of a thin line of bourbon in his gloved fingers. He made sure nobody got a peak of his face when he lifted the fabric for a drink, and despite your efforts and lingering eyes on him throughout the night and years that you’ve known him, he would continue to remain a mystery on that end.

“You really enjoy playin’ that nonsense with them?” he glared over at Soap and Gaz, downing shots and flipping the glasses upside down on the table as they waited for your return. You looked over your shoulder, and Soap threw his arms up to ask what was taking you so long. You returned to Ghost:

“I do. No harm in celebrating, Sir.”

“I’ll consider, but try not to make a scene out of it, Sergeant. You know those boys ‘ave got a hard-on for you.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Maybe tonight one of them will get lucky,” you smiled. Your words were uncharacteristic of you, and he was drawn back a bit in a mix of amazement and bitterness. He looked past you once more and Soap and Gaz were beginning to grow impatient.

“Don’t let me hold you back. Go on, I’ll watch.”

You pushed yourself from the table with a toothy smile, and returned to the game. You went up against Gaz, while Soap helped you to position yourself as you claimed to be relatively new to the sport. ‘Ladies first,’ and you broke the game, the end of your stick striking the white ball. Soap hovering behind you to guide your hits, and you got stripes, leaving Gaz stuck with solids. With each turn, Soap leaned heavier into you, hands staying on yours and your hips for longer to adjust you. You’d be a dirty liar if you said you didn’t enjoy his big arms around you, and his Scottish accent whispering tips directly into your ear. In full transparency with yourself, he had you worked and shuddering, and if your Lieutenant wasn’t already fuming with the last words you left him with, he would be sure to rub them in your pretty face later and have you gasping for air as the thought of another man, let alone member of Task Force 141, touching you had surely slipped from your memory.

You sent the white ball rolling into the black ball, pocketing it with the help of Soap and you dropped the stick on the table, both leaning up and cheering, embracing each other in a hug. You squeezed his waist as he praised your victory in your ear. Gaz was emulous, not so much because of his loss, but of the way you celebrated with Soap. Though, it was short-lived when you were pulling away from Soap and making your way over to him. You walked around behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders and massaging them lightly. You leaned up on your toes to whisper, “Good game, Garrick,” and he sarcastically crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. You dropped with a residual hand on his bicep, and you spoke to the two men, “You two play another round, I need to speak with the Lieutenant.”

Gaz mourned the loss of your hand as you walked across the bar and back to your Lieutenant. You clocked that he hadn’t touched his drink, or barely moved an inch since you were last there, as you slid into the booth opposite of him.

“You made quite the show.”

He spoke up before you could, an obvious change in his tone; disappointed and dropped down a notch from his already impossibly intense voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant,” you teased, but he was clearly not in the mood. His brows pulled together, distraught. How could you not know what you fucking did? To him?

He immediately relaxed his face. “Drink this, we’re leaving.” He pushed his glass towards you, the small amount of brown liquid sloshing with the movement, and he stood from the booth.

“We’re leaving?” you nearly scoffed out loud. Eyes staring down at yours when you caught his attention, he towered over you with the new dynamic. “I’m having fun here, Sir.”

“I noticed. Practically givin’ ol’ Johnny a fuckin’ lap dance over there.”

You definitely weren’t, and you took offense to his crudeness, but you also wouldn’t argue with him, a superior, and mentor - the only reason you were where you are. “And what am I supposed to tell them?” You nodded over to the pool table you came from.

“Make somethin’ up. Or don’t say anythin’ at all.”

He abandoned you at the table and walked to the bartender. As he pulled out his wallet, you watched in worry, knowing you had fucked up. You weren’t just going to leave without saying goodbye. You downed the little remaining bourbon in his glass with a wince before standing to tell Soap and Gaz you were leaving. Some bullshit reason and apology that you yourself could barely understand, your mind being everywhere else in that moment. Ghost paid cash for the drinks the three of you had racked up, plus some more for the boys to have a good rest of their night. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and met you at the door without as little as a nod to the others.

“We’re stayin’ at the hotel across the street. You got a problem with that, Sergeant?”

He spoke to you like you were a little kid. You shook your head, and followed him out the door when he muttered a quick ‘good’ and nothing more.

-

The walk to the hotel was dead silent, and the ride up to the room was ten-times worse. You disrespected your Lieutenant, and while you couldn’t tell if you were actually in the wrong, or if everything was being blown out of proportion, the consequences would remain the same, whatever they may be.

The elevator dinged, doors opening up to the modern suite that the Captain had rented for the Lieutenant. The Sergeants never got rooms nearly as luxurious, on the rare occasion of being stuck in a different city for the night. Ghost’s palm landed on the small of your back, walking you both into the room as you gawked at the tall ceiling and fully glass walls looking down on the city. You stopped in your tracks to admire the view, though Ghost’s form passing you quickly snapped you back to reality. He began taking his jacket off when you finally broke the silence.

“…I’m sorry, Sir-”

“You disrespected a direct order.”

He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, along with his wallet onto the table that went with it. He could barely face you, now unhooking his gun holster from his belt.

“I didn’t think you were serious.” Your voice was minuscule compared to his, but still held on to some confidence.

“‘Course I’m bloody serious, _____.” He brought his handgun down onto the table harshly, noise lining up with the peak incline of volume in his words.

Your name through his teeth struck your heart like a dagger, never sounding dirtier. He walked closer to you, watching his space.

“You think I wan’ t’watch another man touch you? Let alone Soap? And you fuckin’ let him?” he pried, allowing his tone and the likely apologetic answers in your mind to lecture you for him. “Bloody hell, _____, you’re testing me.”

“I said I was sorry, alright? It won’t happen again.”

He scoffs, turning away and back to his stuff on the table. He wouldn’t let up. “Bet it fuckin’ will.”

His words replayed in your mind. ‘Another man’? As opposed to who, himself? And his demeanor the entire night, practically screaming at you to focus. You relaxed in your stance, your next words coming off a little too straightforward.

“You’re jealous.”

“What?” he snapped, trekking towards you in an instant. For a man who appeared as unbothered as himself, he tended to pace quite a bit when he was angry. He halted once you were faced with his chest, dark squinted eyes set on your devilish ones.

“You don’t want ‘another man’s’ hands on me, you just said.” You pried, and pried back, trying to get a reaction. “That’s why you’re doing all this?”

He stayed silent. You took a risk and snaked your hands to the sides of his waist, tugging at the fabric and looking up at him.

“It’s called jealousy, Sir.”

“M’not jealous…trying t’teach you a goddamn lesson.” He lied; he was all sorts of jealous, and possessive with you, but he’d never admit it to you or himself. He stared down at you, dumbified by your actions.

“So you don’t like me?”

“I don’t appreciate it when you act like anyone knows you better than me.”

“Well, you know me best,” your hands trailed up his chest, to the base of his neck, where the fabric of his balaclava ended. “Wouldn’t’ve brought me to your room otherwise.” His skin was on fire under yours, and his mind abandoned all sense of reasoning once you called him out. “…But I barely know you.”

“You’re really goin’ to make me do this?”

“If it’s what you want.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, giving it some time. His choice was obvious—not even close to needing any deliberation—but he relished in the sight of you biting down on your lip, heels rolling back and legs flexing in anticipation.

“Oughta be the death of me, Kid… Take it off.”

He shocked you with his sudden leniency, while his voice did remain the same amount of gruffness and authority.

You tilted your head, “Really?”

“If it’ll help you sleep at night. Don’t make me regret it.”

With a smile, you slipped your fingers under the fabric and dragged it up his neck. Gently pulling it over his jaw, unveiling his dark stubble and pinkish lips. His eyes stayed on yours as you scanned every detail on the lower section of his face. The end reached his nose and you folded the fabric over the bridge of it when he suddenly grasped your wrist with his gloved hand and muttered a breathy ‘stop’. He didn’t give you much time to think before he was leaning down, pulling you in with his other palm on the nape of your neck. He kissed you deeply, and you moaned on his tongue out of stupefaction. You couldn’t say exactly how long you two stood like that, drunk on the released tension and few sips of alcohol from earlier. You pulled away, and your eyes met.

“Thought you were going to let me take it all the way off, Sir.”

“Always been a greedy girl,” he dragged, before drawing you into another kiss, much hungrier than the previous. He began to walk you back towards the bed, and you trusted his path and blindly went with it. You giggled, stumbling over your feet and, consequently, words.

“Can’t help it. Wanna see all of you,” you smiled.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he pushed both hands lightly on your shoulders to get you to sit down. He got on one knee in front of you, and you swooned over the view.

“Go on.”

His words were simple, but you grinned dumbly at them. You reached your fingers out and slipped them under the fabric of his balaclava once again to pull it all the way off, discarding it to the mattress beside you. You’ve seen him without it a few times throughout the years, but his strikingly good looks always took you aback. Short hair that matched his beard in color, and the bump on the bridge of his nose. Dark circles under his eyes he usually had covered with the black greasepaint of Ghost’s look, a half-inch, horizontal scar right in the middle of his eyebrow that complimented the one on the opposite cheek. You’d never gotten to examine his face this close-up, so you couldn’t help but stare. You pulled him back up for one more kiss before he was back to his knees.

He untied your boots for you, throwing them to the side before he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your cargoes and harshly pulled them off from under you. You gasped at the cold air hitting your thighs, mostly in pleasure from his uncaringness for the formalities, and roughness with your plush body. You could even consider it desperation, manhandling you like you were not but a feather in his grasp, still, more valuable than any prized possession a man could own. He soaked in every inch of your skin he uncovered before you were only left in your panties, black, and laced as if you wore them for him, and the long sleeve, wooly shirt that matched his, and he absolutely reveled in the sight of you.

He really shouldn’t be doing this; you’re still young, and his responsibility, and he’s your superior - it’s wrong, written out in every language. Even a blind dog could see it. But he needed it. He needed you, so bad, he couldn’t even recognize himself in his thoughts. And you were just so fucking pretty, and witty and smart, a perfect soldier. He’d end up dead if he were to ignore it any longer.

He rolled up his sleeves before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, simultaneously lifting your legs to hook over his shoulders. Your stomach was lit aflame, sweet butterflies and lively, strident sparks on burned wicks fighting for dominance. The eye contact this man held, you swore you would be a giggling puddle on the ground if it weren’t for your profession; still, it showed through in your blinding smile, painfully obvious, and it struck him with something he could only describe as a longing infatuation, so incredibly uncharacteristic of him it almost made him sick.

His beard against the bare skin of your thighs already had you squirming under his hold, and his bourbon-tainted breath only made it worse when he spoke.

“Such a pretty, little cunt of yours, Love.” He looked you in the eyes, “Are you gon’to let me taste it?” he hummed, and you leaned back on your elbows. His dirty words sounded native on his tongue, in that gruff, Manchester accent of his, the same one that had you dizzy when he was barking commands over the comms device in your ear.

You couldn’t have been more attracted to him than you were at that moment. You always admired his maturity, the experience he had over you, so you could only learn from the best. His strength and confidence in the field had you head over heels, and seeing it carried over to the bedroom, his prioritization and utter devotion to you, was a sight for the history books. While he saw his age as a flaw, you knew he’d be the only one to treat you right, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be mutual.

“Please, Sir.”

“Please, what?”

“Just- eat me out, please,” you whined. “Taste me.”

His lips pulled tight and curved at one corner. “Atta girl.”

He left messy kisses all up and down your inner thighs that encased his head, some leaving behind marks that would be there the next morning, as a reminder. His heavy palms, cold against your natural warmth and with bruised knuckles, massaged at the plush fat of your hips and below, and he finally landed his lips on your soaked-through panties.

You gasped at the first contact of his mouth with your clothed cunt, followed by the sweet moans and swears spilling from your swollen lips and slack jaw from the feeling of his rough tongue and the heat of his mouth painfully close to your center. The bump of his nose relentlessly teased your clit, and after one-too-many pleas from your breath, he wasted no time in slipping your panties down your legs and to the floor next to him, and shoving his tongue where you needed him the most. You watched on with dazed eyes, utterly drunk on the sight, while his couldn’t decide on what to focus on, your pretty sex-face or the messy cunt in front of him, wanting both engraved in his mind forever.

You tasted better than what would be described as heaven, and he could be like this for hours if he wasn’t so badly off, further straining his jeans with every noise you made, every second his eyes were on you. He had to take care of you first, warm you up for his taking, because he actually cared.

His tongue worked at your core like any task given to him; effective and efficient, and with the same rigorous aptitude he carried through the most important parts of life. You came apart under his mouth and grasp, the air filled with a mix of your pointless begging and sweet praises as to how well he made you feel, along with his occasional groans and hums from your taste and attempted grinding in search of more. He fed you everything you needed, but you couldn’t help but want more. More of him, his touch, the feel of being his.

As if he could read you, he granted your wish by bringing a hand to your cunt, and he slid two of his fingers in you without warning, maximizing your pleasure and overwhelming your every sense. Unable to hold yourself up anymore, you fully leaned back on the mattress, hands coming up to your chest to grope yourself through and under the fabric of your shirt. A heavy, tattooed arm on your lower belly weighed you down as you fought to arch your back, to find more within his mouth, cum faster, anything, as his two fingers slid in and out of your tight cunt, matching the pace of his tongue.

“You think any’ve those mutts could do this to you?” he mumbled, about the soldiers back at the bar, vibrations of his voice having you feeling more depraved than ever.

“No. Never,” you panted. “Only you, Sir. It’s only you- shit…I’m your girl.”

Your hand flew to the back of his head, the other finding his on your belly. He laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tight as those beautiful, soft moans spilled from your lips, uncontrollable and needy.

“That’s right, Love…you’re mine, and I’ll be yours here soon enough…just cum on my fingers for me, yeah? Can you do that, Sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding an “mhm” as you rolled your head back against the mattress, attempting to find solace with the pressure in your head growing stronger by the minute. With labored breathing speeding up, the thick rope in your lower belly finally tore, and you came hard on his fingers like he asked you to, pleasure intensified by the heavy weight of his hand on your gut. Your nails clawed at the nape of his neck, the pain combined with the warmth of your cunt pulling guttural moans from his throat as he helped you through your high. You whined when his tongue left you, a smug look on his face you couldn’t even see, and again when he pulled his fingers from your cunt, humming in satisfaction.

“Look at that, Love.” He stood from his position on the ground, eyes scanning over your body, height towering over your form. “Fuckin brilliant. You want t’taste yourself?”

You sat up and leaned back on your palms with straight elbows, a wave of dizziness hitting you despite your leniency as you moved, and you nodded, with big eyes and a fucked-out expression from just his fingers and tongue alone.

He brought his soaked hand to your face and shoved the digits between your lips. You opened graciously for him, and he pressed the pads of his fingers down against your tongue, your lips tightening around him. You moaned around him at the tangy taste of your messy arousal, and the overbearing space just his fingers took up in your mouth.

“You like it?” he asked, almost mocking you. He pulled them out of your mouth once your tongue had sufficiently cleaned them, and a short-lived string of your drool followed.

You stood from the edge of the bed, a stupidly-bright smile on your lips. “Mhm. And I like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Your fists locked onto the front of his sweater, leaning into his frame and spinning him one-eighty.

“How much?”

“Can I show you?”

You pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he more than complied.

“You may.”

You gave him a sweet grin and climbed onto his lap, thighs encasing his much larger ones as best you could. His palms immediately found your waist, and he hummed. You littered his face and jaw with kisses as you reached for the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head and discarding it to the floor, leaving him shirtless and you speechless. Broad shoulders and frame built of muscle naturally obtained through his line of work, scars ranging from all sizes and causes scattered across his torso. Abs still prominent even when slightly slouched and not flexing, and the squishy pectorals you knew you’d be falling asleep on tonight, wrapped in the blanket of his big arms.

You engulfed each other in another kiss—deep, sensual, and downright desperate—as your hands trailed down his neck and chest, finding the buckle of his belt and pulling the leather apart. The sounds of metal clashing together rang heavily in your ears, and his breathing was jagged. You eagerly undid his jeans and finally pulled his boxers down far enough to pull out his hard cock, shamelessly gawking at the size. His desperation showed through his sighs and strengthened grip on your waist as you wrapped your smaller fingers around his thickness, his brows knitting together and eyes prying shut at the limited touch. You swiped your thumb over the wet, swollen tip of him, and he just about lost it right there, grumbling a quiet swear and tensing his shoulders.

A distraction, or his downfall, he curled his fingers under the hem of your sweater. He asked with his eyes, and you answered by raising your arms and letting him take it off, his cock falling against his stomach. You sat perched on his lap, in nothing but your bra, and for once, taller than him. His lips connected with the flat area of your chest above your breasts as you held the back of his head, and he looked up through his eyebrows. He didn’t have to ask for you to reach behind yourself and undo your bra, and it fell and you pulled it to the side, allowing it to join the shirts on the floor. His mouth was immediately on your sensitive bud and after a moment, the other, and you felt the phantom of cool liquid pour down your back once the cold air of the room made contact with where his hot mouth was. You held him close, something of a motherly instinct washing over you for this behemoth of a man, dominating killer and all suddenly gone. You had Simon Riley, rather than the Ghost you were familiar with.

You took his cock in your hand and raised your hips, sinking onto him, letting him feel you in full, pulling a long and loud moan from each of you. You adjusted to his size for a moment, catching your breath, and he latched his lips onto your neck when you started to move, marking you as his. The stretch burned wonderfully; you had never had anyone even close to his size, and your belly fluttered fiercely because you knew he could tell.

You rode him sweetly, like you were the one taking care of him this time - the insatiable feeling of being on top of a man of his making, the same man you’ve seen snap bones and necks like they were twigs, ruthlessly torture an unfortunate accomplice with no complaint, and end the lives of helpless soldiers of the opposition with no remorse. Nothing could beat looking down at his agape lips and furrowed brows, twisted in the pleasure that only you were giving him; you relished in the explicitly nurturing power, and you’d do it til the day you dropped, if he would allow you.

He consumed every inch of you with his eyes and hands what his lips couldn’t reach, enthralled by your entire being, on him, with him, after knowing you for so long. He wondered if you’ve wanted this for as long as he did, and for a moment, he had completely forgotten about his responsibilities, his soul focused entirely on you, and your needs only. Those needs of yours, being to fulfill his, and just finally be his.

You took his right wrist in your hands, dragging it up your waist and chest, and brought it to your neck. He rested his calloused fingers on your skin, loosely wrapped just under your jaw, and you urged him to be harsher, to squeeze. A craving look in your eyes, virtually screaming at him, ‘go on, punish me.’

punish me for misbehaving at the bar, disrespecting your wishes even if they were unfair and selfish. punish me for not seeing it earlier, for thinking anyone else could have me in any way. show me whose girl I am, and will always be.

He would never turn you down, nor would he deny that he wanted it just as much, despite the gut feeling of guilt clawing at him through skin and muscle. He tightened his grip, feeling the throaty vibrations of your moans amongst the pads of his fingers, and you smiled with the small victory over him.

“Fuckin Christ, Sweetheart. You enjoyin’ this?” he taunted, panted, almost, and you saw right through his words; he enjoyed it, too, supported by his flexing muscles, labored breathing, and willingness to comply with the dynamic in the first place. You nodded feverishly, whimpering under his weakening gaze.

The sight had him crumbling; his hand dwarfing your neck, rough skin and veins and all, having yours appear to be the silkiest, most fragile object one could lay their hands on. While he wouldn’t, he could, so easily squeeze tighter, strip you completely of your breath and blood flow, crush you, and the idea had him lightheaded, hungrier, and you squirming around him. Needy, and desperate to redeem yourself.

He wanted to gain his control back, be the strong mentor you always knew him to be, the one to never give a second thought to his actions, think too long or get attached, compromised. But by God, did it feel good to let you take him, take care of him, and the needs he tried so hard to suppress. Deep whimpers faltered in his throat, unruly in their attempted and, only partially failed, escape.

“This is what you wanted, right, Sir?” you nearly pouted, small hands doing their best in grasping onto and clawing at the thick arm that led to your throat. You felt your thighs becoming weaker, shaking as you tried your best to keep going, make him proud. “Make sure I’m yours for good? Fuck some sense into me I needed so bad? ‘Cause it’s working…I’ll be yours for however long you’ll have me, Sir,” you devoted, eyes big and innocent.

“Fuckin hell, Darling,” was all he could muster up, stuttering slightly as your cunt took him so well, squeezing vigorously in addition to your already there tightness.

With his hand at the base of your throat, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, continuing to aid you in riding his heavy cock, back and forth with the lazy raising of your hips a mere inch or two from his lap. He brought you down and his lips engulfed your swollen ones, tongue bullying yours as the hand on your neck kept you in place to his liking. Rougher, meaner than before. Ravenous, desirous and aching, and you fed into his craving like the good girl you were, wanting nothing more but to please him.

He pulled away to rest his forehead on your shoulder, eyes glued shut and hot breaths fanning your skin as he could no longer control the groans emitting from deep in his throat. You were so good, your small body on top of him, riding him, and he knew he wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

He twisted his body, and yours with his, held tight to his chest, and he laid you down on the bed, pushing you further up and situating himself above you; like you were not but a featherweight toy, made to be molded into any position of his liking. He hungrily slid his cock back in your cunt with a groan, you a moaning mess, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck, hot breath having you struggling and failing to keep still. Your hands found his back, nails digging into the skin encapsulating pure muscle, moans amplified with the new angle at which he was rutting into you. His hand had abandoned your throat to grope at your breast, momentarily pinching the painfully sore bud between his rough fingertips.

Your moans became more unraveled by the second, blindly nearing your second high of the night as he continued to hit the deepest point in your womb, the friction of the stretch of his cock and pelvis against your cunt driving you up the wall in ways you never had experienced before. The tightening of your cunt around him, combined with the dragging of your nails down and between the blades of his shoulders, had him seeing galaxies, with you at the center of each of them. He twitched inside you, leaving you drunk on him, and him only.

“Cum inside me, please, Baby- whatever you do, don’t stop. Please, wanna feel you,” you whined, and he raised his head slightly to look you in the eyes, hips slowing.

‘Baby,’ you had called him, unintentional but undoubtedly sounding right in your voice, and it sealed the case of your dynamic, future and present. He was so used to Sir, Lieutenant, Ghost…he’d forgotten what it was like to be addressed as an actual person - a lover, with whatever names you would assign him. And to let him cum inside you? He would’ve never imagined it, actually being able to claim you as his own, or allowing himself to do something so risky. Funny, considering his job.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, just trust me, Baby- fuck, m’so close!”

“Fuck- call me that again, Love,” he unwinded, damn-near begged. He resumed his pace, wanting nothing more than to please you, gut feeling dizzier than ever.

say it again, please, say it again. i’m yours, i’m your baby- christ, how the fuck are you doing this to me?

You smiled at the request; the older man, stronger than the meanest bull on riding day, wants to be babied by his junior. Simon Riley — possessive and deadly, was actually a man who wanted nothing more but to be held, be had, by the willing girl he knew so well.

You would’ve started much earlier if you knew.

“Of course, Baby, making me feel so good,” you said through shaky moans, and he groaned against your shoulder, movements becoming sloppier. “Gonna make me,” you choked, “…cum on your cock, Sir…and I want you to cum with me, please? Give me everything you have, Baby- fuck!, you’re so good for me.”

Your hands moved to cradle his head as you spoke, his groans uncontrolled against your soft skin, almost whimpering, and your whines erratic as he hastily rutted into you with shambolic thrusts, refusing to cease. The zipper of his jeans grinding against your inner thighs drew to you pain, but you couldn’t be bothered whatsoever, so consumed with him, and reaching both of your highs, and nothing more - you’d be lying if you said a part of you wasn't enjoying the pain, and wanted more, as long as he was at the other end to deliver. He mumbled incoherently in your ear, back muscles flexing and his cock twitching inside you every time you squeezed around him, until the coil in your stomach finally snapped, washing over and you came quickly on his cock with a pornographic moan. His arms and pace weakened, the tightness of your overworked cunt and voice sending him spiraling into his own high of the night, and he spilled his warm cum deep in your pussy, there to stay. Nails clawing down the sides of his torso only making it all the more pleasurable, shown through the choked moan directly against your ear, having your entire body shivering under him. It all hit you without a moment to think, leaving you both winded, catching your breath, actually smiling, as he could barely hold himself up on his forearms above you.

He kissed from behind your ear and down to your collarbone, soothing each of the red, swollen marks he peppered your skin with. You giggled lightly when his lips grazed the most sensitive parts between your shoulder and jaw, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He swore if a laugh, or face, could save lives, prevent bloodshed, it’d be yours.

“Can we stay like this for a bit?” you asked, almost in a whisper for the close proximity.

He muttered back, “I’d crush you if I let my arms up.”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad way to go,” you joked. His heart swelled, uncomfortably, and somewhat painfully.

He adjusted to his knees and pulled his cock from your cunt, the loss of his size making you whine into the sex-filled air, and he groaned lightly. The sight of his hot cum spilling to your thighs already had him hard again, and he fought his desires for another round with the sense that you both needed to rest. After a moment, he shoved his cock back in his boxers and zipped his jeans, standing from the bed.

You, too, sat up, bringing your legs together as you leaned on your elbows, shivering with his cum seeping out and staining your thighs. “Will you at least lay with me?”

Oddly, your words struck him like a dagger; something he hadn’t prepared himself for, both the concept and the impact of it.

“Need t’check on the boys at the bar.” He reached for his sweater on the floor, and you frowned. “Y’know what happened last time I left them to make it home on their own.”

You smiled as you recounted the memory; the drive to the police station and back, the relentless teasing and cleaning duties that followed as they clung to their foreheads in hopes of relieving the nasty hangover they endured.

“They’re grown men, Sir. I’m sure they can handle crossing the street and finding their rooms on a few pints,” you quipped.

He spun his sweater in his hands, and you could tell that, deep down, he didn’t want to leave in the first place.

“...I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, ditching the sweater once more.

You smiled giddily as you watched him return to the bed, around the side you were closest to. “I am about a lot of things.”

He got on the bed, slotting himself on his knees in front of yours. His hands on your knees, pushing them apart, just a bit. “Don’t get cocky, little girl.”

“I learned from the -mph- best-! Fuck, Simon!” Your sentence is strangled by your giggles when his fingers are suddenly between your upper thighs, unapologetically teasing your sensitive nerves as he collected his cum on the tips of his middle and ring fingers.

He brought them up as he taunted, “Is that right?” and he shoved his two fingers in your mouth without warning, watching your body jolt and eyes light up in shock. He quite enjoyed the view of you taking in his fingers, a little too much. “Where’s all that bite gone now, Darling?”

You savored the taste of him, paying no heed to his jeering, and instead your doe eyes returned a bashful, surprised look as you moaned audaciously around his thick fingers.

He pulled them from your lips with a pop, smirking at the expression on your face. he’s so pretty when he’s happy.

“You’re an asshole,” you laughed, failing to keep yourself in a serious, scornful manner.

“Is that any way to talk to your superior?” he jokingly ridiculed, and you rolled your eyes. An assertive hand on your jaw pulled you in for a gentle kiss, plump and pinkened lips meeting his.

“Is it protocol to fuck your Sergeant whenever you’re feeling a bit jealous?”

“Only when she doesn’t listen.”

He moved to be next to you, and you naturally gravitated to half-laying on him, head on his shoulder and a palm flat on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. Softly, as to not break you, or himself, despite you holding him so tightly, trying to be as close to him as you possibly could without actually cracking open his ribs and crawling inside.

“Maybe I should do it more often, then.”

He scoffed. “You’re annoying, y’know that?”

“Yeah, well. You’d hate me if I wasn’t. You like the challenge.”

“That’s true.”

You’d settle for listening to his breathing, and him the same for you, attempting to not think about what was to come next, and instead actually be in the moment, and what just was. An impossible feat, of course, but it wouldn’t change what had happened. And neither of you would want to, ever.

His eyes landed on the balaclava at the corner of the foot-end of the bed, flat and straight and almost like it was placed with the intent to taunt him. Remind him of what he had abandoned, to be with his Sergeant. His Sergeant, who was far too young, and naive for him. His Sergeant, who, unrealistically, wanted him just as bad as he wanted her.

[mehidktbh]

Between You And Me (P.t 1)

Pairing: Simon Riley x Nurse!Fem!Reader

Summary: You're in a secret relationship with Ghost, no one knows but with that comes problems. When one guy starts to get the hint that you're single. He finds out the only way to get you all by himself is to slowly hide in the shadows waiting for the perfect time.

Warning: War, unwanted/nonconsensual , secret relationship, touching, ANGST, grinding, reader is groped, TW SH (SEXUAL HARASSMENT), swearing, injuries and bloody wounds

A/N: 11 Days since my last post. Sorry for my in and out absents, idk why I'm not as committed as I use to be. But here's the Simon Riley fic everyone voted on!! (Part 2) Taglist: @lauraliisa, @mxtokko, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @ghostshotwife420, @snortangeldust, @thychuvaluswife, @quesowakanda, @goodsoup03, @cielobgers, @andy-unu-03, @sididakra-jo, @nocti1s, @luvfromkat, @lily-ilo, @iwmtfm, @elentiyaiswriting, @berryjuicyy, @crazyfandomist, @aqxz, @yaaamadaa-blog, @itsquinoa, @tomhollandisabae, @wivwer, @old-red-owl, theverycelestialgemini, leopardfang15, @iwmtfm

The smell of foul metal floated around the room, and the suddenly rich, thick blood decorated your hands. The metal dish dinged sharply as you dropped the final piece of glass down. Finally, straightening your back upwards to now look out the closed wound. Which was a horrific scene before. Only know it's been wiped down with alcohol and sown up with a neat row of stitches.

"All done." You happily said, relieved that you could now open a window when this guy left. The blood smell was getting to you. So gradually and carefully you began picking up your equipment, putting all the soaked bloody cotton balls on the metal dish. But you suddenly stoped when the sensation of a cold hand came out to grab you.

"Sorry, sweets. Just need a bit of help getting to the door" He smiled 'innocently' but you nodded in return. Ignoring and swallowing the sudden gut rench feeling you got as you let him grab hold of your whole arm. His fingers traced up and down your skin, as he gripped on tight, you kept silent as much as you wanted to scream and you quickly lead him to the door.

The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the barracks, mixing in with the sound of talking from down the hallway. You quickly smiled before beginning to turn away, only to be grabbed again. Fucking hell- "Thanks toots for the patch up" Smiling you said nothing in return, only trying to avert your gaze from his lustful eyes. His mouth practically breathed down your neck as you slowly pulled out of his reach. Finally shutting the door.

And you thought that was it... but you were wrong.

It started out as little there to their moments where he'd pop out of nowhere right as you were alone. When you were on break, signing off papers in your office, watching TV or simply going to the bathroom. You'd leave the room to smell his thick foul and unpleasant cologne reeking into your nose, his slipped-back hair as he lazily leaned on the wall. Complimenting you from your skin to your body.

And not to mention that one time he 'accidentally' touched your butt...

♡ ♡ ♡

You quietly hummed out a quiet tune, your eyes watching in awe every time as the coffee machine worked like magic. The particularly strong and good coffee slipped out from the machine nozzle, filling up the two cups only reserved for you and Simon.

His cup was white and plain, nothing that would tell anyone else that it could be their cup only the white insides of the cup were stained with the brown liquid. The stains that told everyone whoever was drinking from this cup liked it strong and black, no sugar or milk.

Only your cup was always lined up against the cabinet, side to side they weren't separated. Even in the dishwasher, they never threatened to separate. The seemingly bland white cup was always next to the paw-printed ceramic mug, dots of dog paws was something that showed everyone it was yours.

"For me?" You turned around suddenly, expecting to see Ghost already waiting to grab his cup even though you told him you'd get it for him. Only it was the same guy who'd been bugging you since day one. "No, it's for Ghost." You stood your ground, turning around as you showed no interest in him being there.

The sound of his footsteps crept closer behind you, the deliberately terrifying thumps of his boots made every hair on your body stand up. He reached higher to swing open the mug cabinet above you, purposely grinding the front of his pants against your butt.

The sudden movement shook you to your core as you quickly pulled away from the machine. Stopping the waterfall of coffee pouring earlier as you quickly took both mugs in your hands. Ignoring the burning sensation and forgetting to put your milk and sugar in.

♡ ♡ ♡

Ghost caught onto fast to your sudden nervousness fast. When you returned with his coffee in a rush, nearly tripping over as you made it to his desk. He was surprised to see how red beating your hands were, the imprint of your mistake lead him to wonder what made you run so fast. Though the whole time you said nothing, lying about how you forgot you had a meeting soon. Excusing yourself before leaving early too, Ghost stood there with a mug that only grew cold.

Not only that but after dark, he'd secretly sneak into your office to get close and hold hands under the only light you flicked on as he whispered sweet praises into your ear. Before you were constantly complaining about happening to leave early (it was midnight) as Simon ushered you out.

Now you hold onto his warm figure, his huge arms cage you into his embrace harder as you struggle to say goodbye. By the end of the night, he'd be the one to escort you back to your room, all the way until he made sure you were locked and safe. No matter how many times his rough accent softly demanded you tell him what was bothering you, you didn't say anything.

♡ ♡ ♡

"I'll be fine" You shush him, your finger coming up to sew his lips shut as he quietly chuckled. He stood tall and relaxed, the only time today when he can truly let go of his tense muscles. Your soft touch brings him back to the present as you press a quick final goodnight kiss to his cheek. Giggling when the heat instantly rose to his face, his lovesick eyes never wanted to leave you but sadly he watched you turn away.

You seemed to quicken your paste when you shut the door, as much as you reassured Simon you were okay you weren't. Feeling like you were being watched it was past midnight and the barracks fell deathly silent. Not a whisper of someone talking or the sound of someone snoring on the couch as an ad played. Only your footsteps quickened down the hall, twisting around every corner the sound of swift heavy boots followed quickly behind.

[serpentandlily]

Wicked Games - Halloween Special

Dark!BatBoys x Reader (modern au)

Summary: The boys corrupt their captured Angel.

Warnings: drug use, thigh riding, dark themes (mdni)

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃✨ hope you enjoy this little Halloween special with our favorite boys!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

༺♥༻

Halloween Special

༺♥༻

The music was pounding through the speakers, the lights pulsating mixed colors on the floor and walls. The atmosphere was dark and sensual. Fake cobwebs hung in the corners of the walls, spooky decorations placed all over.

It was Halloween night and the club was packed full of people in all sorts of costumes. You surveyed the dance floor, watching the mixture of bodies all moving together to the fast paced music.

You were where you always were when you came to Velaris, the illustrious night club. In the VIP section, perched on the owner’s lap—Rhysand’s lap.

He was lucky he was much taller than you otherwise the white feathered wings you had strapped to your back would’ve smothered his face.

You were dressed as an Angel. Your costume had, of course, been picked out by Rhysand. It was hardly more than some skimpy white lingerie completed with a halo headband and the wings.

Rhysand was dressed as the Devil in all black, with horns clipped in his hair. Not much of a costume but considering he already was a devil in disguise, it suited him.

Cassian and Azriel were dressed as his demons. Both also had horns clipped to their hair and wore massive bat-like wings.

An Angel and her devil and two demons.

You had to admit, they all looked hot—devilishly handsome. Just the sight of them alone had your pulse racing. You knew by the grin on their faces that they felt it too.

You sipped on your cocktail, already on your second one and feeling a nice buzz. Rhysand leaned forward, brushing your hair to one side.

“Having fun, Angel?”

His breath ghosted the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Not too long ago you had been in a similar position with him while his fingers were inside of you. The thought of that night caused an ache between your legs.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, leaning into his touch. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand flat against your stomach.

“Such good manners tonight,” Cassian teased from next to you. “Maybe you should always keep this costume on.”

“Don’t tease her, Cass.” Azriel’s dark and husky voice came from your other side. You felt him graze the back of his knuckles against your upper arm. “Not while she’s being such an angel.”

You smirked at Cassian. You always loved it when Azriel took your side. Cassian playfully narrowed his eyes at you in challenge.

“I think she deserves a sweet treat,” Rhysand purred. “Do you guys agree?”

You twisted your head to the side to look at Rhys. Your eyes met Rhy’s violet ones full of mischief and lust. Your eyebrows raised in question as his two demons nodded their agreement.

Rhysand reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a small baggie filled with a few translucent looking patches.

“What is that?”

“This, Angel, is called the Devil’s Tongue,” Rhys whispered. He leaned down, nipping at your ear. “It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

He sat up straight, raising a single eyebrow at you in question. You weren’t a stranger to drugs, though you’d never tried this one before. But it was Halloween after all, and the Devil was offering you the chance to sin.

You held out your palm but Rhys smacked it down.

“Pick one of my demons, Angel.”

You were confused, facing forward again to look at Cassian and Azriel. Cassian grinned at you but Azriel’s face held just a small smirk.

“Azriel,” you said. He had been on your side earlier, after all. Cassian gave you a faux pout while Azriel’s smirk turned into a grin.

A grin that looked anything but friendly. You swallowed nervously. Perhaps you had chosen wrong.

Rhysand opened the baggie and pulled out one of the tiny square patches. You watched with curiosity as Azriel opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Rhys placed the translucent patch right on his tongue.

The Devil’s Tongue indeed.

“If you want it,” Rhys purred as he gripped both your wrists in his hand. “You’ll have to take it from him.”

You knew where this was going. Rhysand was going to continue to hold your arms back so if you wanted it, you’d have to use your own tongue to take it from him. It really should’ve taken you longer than half a second to decide what you wanted but when in Rome…

You made eye contact with Azriel, bristled at the challenge in his hazel eyes. Fine then. You’d show them.

You leaned towards him, your eyes fluttering closed. You stuck your tongue out, letting it swirl over his before licking the patch right off his tongue. But you took things further as Azriel pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smashed your lips against his.

Azriel was quick to react, meeting your passionate vigor with his own, a small grunt escaping from him. Rhys shifted you in his lap with a groan, clearly enjoying the show you and Azriel were putting on.

You felt the drug dissolve in your mouth as you continued to kiss Azriel. His tongue darted out again, swiping your bottom lip. You parted your lips with a small gasp, letting him in.

Cassian let out a jealous growl from behind you, his calloused hand gripped your thigh. You continued to make-out with Azriel, groaning into his kiss as you felt Rhysand harden beneath you.

Cassian’s large hands moved to your waist, yanking you from Azriel and pulling you to face him. You smirked at the feral hunger in his eyes, the envy behind it.

“My turn,” he growled.

You tilted your head at him. “I don’t know, Cassian. I don’t think you’ve been very good tonight.”

His eyes sparked and he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Tonight isn’t about me being good, baby girl. It’s about seeing just how bad we can make you.”

He pulled back to give you a wolfish grin.

“Why don’t you show my demon a little mercy, Angel?” Rhysand murmured. “Open up.”

The command in his voice had you parting your swollen lips, sticking your tongue out so he could place one of the tiny patches on it.

Cassian launched forward, licking the drug right off your tongue before grabbing you by the back of the head and crashing his lips against yours with a groan.

Azriel’s kiss had been sensual, slow and tantalizing. But Cassian was rougher with you, a mixture of teeth and lips that had you panting. You mindlessly grinded your ass into Rhysand’s hard cock needing more and more.

The drug was starting to kick in now. You could feel it inside of you, amplifying the emotions you were already feeling and leaving your mind spinning. Desire lit a flame in the lower pit of your stomach, your core pulsating with need.

Rhysand pulled you away from Cassian, who whined in response. You squealed as he spun you around easily, until your legs straddled his hips and you faced him. His eyes were dark with lust and he growled as his cock pressed against your clothed center.

“Open,” he commanded.

Your eyes were half-lidded as you stared at him with just as much hunger. You stuck your tongue out, letting him place another tablet on it. He swirled his tongue around yours, much like you had done to Azriel, before licking the patch from you.

Every inch of your skin was on fire. The air was heavy with desire and need. You wanted so much more. Wanted to take and take and take what you needed from them.

Azriel and Cassian’s hands were all over you, stroking your spine, your thighs, your shoulders. Any bit of exposed skin they could reach. You tossed your head back with a sigh, looking up at the pulsating colors on the ceiling that changed to the beat of the loud music.

“You are so hot,” Cassian growled, scraping his canines against the lobe of your ear.

“Beautiful,” Azriel breathed, kissing up your shoulder to your neck.

“Our little Angel is just as sinful as we are,” Rhysand purred.

More. You needed more.

“Rhys,” you whined, unsure why. All you knew was the ache between your thighs was almost unbearable. Cassian nipped at your throat as Azriel’s tongue lapped at the swell of your breast.

“What is it, Angel?” Rhysand crossed his hands behind his head, his gaze drifting between your eyes and your body that was perched perfectly in his lap—The Devil, king of the underworld without a crown, letting his demons corrupt his captured Angel.

“I want…” you mewled out between pants of air. “I need more.”

“Go on, Angel.” Rhysand grinned and you were spinning again. “Take what you need from me.”

Cassian’s hands trailed down your thigh, sliding under it and lifting your leg moving it between Rhysand’s lap so you were straddling one thigh. Azriel was kissing up your throat, gripping your chin with his hand to keep you in place.

Rhysand jerked his knee and you gasped as his leg rubbed against your center. Your eyes widened as you turned your head around to glance at the club but with Azriel and Cassian huddled so close to you and Rhysand, their large wings blocked your view.

“No one can see you, sweetheart,” Azriel said darkly, twisting your face to his. “No one is allowed to see you. Not like this.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips. Cassian’s hand roamed your body, kneading your breasts, running up and down your bare thighs while Rhysand watched intensely.

“Help her, Cassian,” Rhysand ordered.

You were still too wrapped up in Azriel’s kiss, letting his tongue explore your mouth to understand what Rhysand meant. That is, until you felt Cassian grab you by your hips and rocked you on Rhysand’s thigh.

You gasped into Azriel’s kiss, a shot of electricity piercing through your body as your core rubbed against Rhysand’s leg. Cassian rocked you again and again, guiding your movement as he lapped at your throat, your jaw, the tops of your breasts. Anywhere he could.

“That's it, baby girl,” Cassian encouraged. “Use Rhys for your own pleasure. Let us make you feel good.”

Your Angel wings and breasts bounced softly with every roll of your hips. It wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge, not with the drug amplifying every feeling, every brush against your skin.

Cassian’s hands went back to roaming your body as you took over riding Rhysand’s thigh on your own. The grunts and groans coming from all three of them, the sight of Rhysand straining against his pants, only turned you on even more.

The pressure was building and building in the pit of your stomach. The colors of the club mixed together, the beat of the music serving as a guide for the movement of your hips.

You were so close. So close.

Azriel bit down on your bottom lip right as Rhysand purred, “Come for us, Angel. Let us hear those beautiful cries.”

The tiny spark of pain, his words, the feeling of his thigh rubbing against you—it knocked you right over the edge. You pulled away from Azriel’s kiss, tossing your head back as your orgasm shot straight through you.

It was lightening, euphoric, peaking you so high that the tumble down had you falling limp against Rhysand’s chest.

“Good girl,” he muttered, stroking a hand down your spine. “Our perfect little Angel.”

Because that’s what you were.

An Angel, captured by the Devil and his demons.

But if this was hell, you never wanted to go back to heaven.

༺♥༻

Tag list: @justdreamstars @minakay @f4iry-bell @godletmebeanf1wag @judig92 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @peaceandcrackers @glitterypirateduck @gorlillaglue25 @the-lake-is-calling @danikamariemain @sousydive @mis-lil-red @hallucynatiing @librafairy @poshestpigeon @sirenaobscura @red-rabbit-13 @elle4404 @strangelycami

[impala-dreamer]

Lumière

A Supernatural Story

~ Dean rises with the sun and takes some time to appreciate the way the light glides over his lover...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

1,657 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Fluffy romance with some oral and fucking ;)

A/N: This was written for my @jacklesversebingo square "Early Morning Sex" Hope you enjoy <3

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Waking up to sunlight was strange. Typically, his bed was deep inside the Bunker with no  windows, or hidden in a cheap motel room behind black-out curtains.

He closed his eyes tighter as the streaks of sun hit his lashes and he sighed at the warmth.

A deep breath. A delicious stretch.

Dean rolled over to find Y/N still asleep; her beautiful face slack, hair disheveled and messy against the crisp white sheet. The pillow was dented beneath her head and her right hand was thrown above like she’d been fighting something deadly before passing out. Even in a fancy hotel, surrounded by comfort, Y/N was still fighting in her sleep.

He’d gotten used to it over the few months that they’d been sharing a bed. Sure, he generally woke up with bruises, and once what felt like a broken rib, but it was worth it to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing and wake up to her raspy sleep-ruined voice.

He didn’t want to hear it just yet, however, so he set himself up on his elbow and leaned over her to get a better look. He wanted to memorize everything about her. Count every strand of hair that curled over her ear, catalog every different line on her face; give a name to every freckle and beauty mark.

Dean smiled softly and lifted his hand to her cheek. With the back of his knuckles, he traced the beam of light on her skin and Y/N’s eyes fluttered. She woke slowly, knowing that she was safe, feeling the warmth of his touch and the loving pulse of his aura as it mixed with hers.

“Mornin’.”

She opened her eyes and smiled, biting her lip shyly as she found him staring down at her.

“Morning.” She cleared her throat. “What’re you doin’?”

He felt her cheeks heat up with a blush and he licked his lips, still staring. “Just watching you.”

“And bein’ creepy.”

She went to swat his hand away, but Dean flipped the script and grabbed her wrist. He pinned it above her head, lightly pressing her hand back into the pillow. She opened her mouth to protest, but he closed his lips around hers, stealing her breath.

“Well, hello, cowboy,” she moaned, looking up at him with wide eyes that still held the glaze of sleep. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”

“Always the right side,” he whispered, nudging her cheek with the tip of his nose, “with you.”

“Such a charmer…”

With a stretch, Y/N wrapped her free hand around the wide breadth of his shoulders and tugged him closer. He crushed her down into the mattress, solid and whole and warm as the sun peeking around the edges of the window.

He licked into her mouth and she clawed lightly at the nape of his neck. The smooth tanned skin there was prickled by tiny hairs- he’d need a haircut soon. She ran her nails up a bit, gave his scalp a gentle scratch which made his kiss deepen. He moaned, deep and gruff, and left her lips to travel across her jaw and down.

He dropped a trail of kisses like breadcrumbs along her collarbone, stopped for a nibble on her pulse. He could feel her heartbeat beneath his lips and the thumb still locked around her wrist and he rolled his hips into hers, wanting to feel it speed up.

A tiny roar rumbled in the back of her throat when his erection pushed against the soft of her belly and her pulse quickened. Dean let out a little laugh and licked away the ghost of a dent that his teeth had made.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” she said with a sigh.

Dean sat up a bit and gave her a billion dollar smile and a slightly double-eyed wink. “I mean… That is the plan.”

Y/N dug her teeth into her bottom lip and Dean grew hungrier as she let it spill back out like a cherry stained pillow.

“Fuck, I want you so bad…”

She set her palm against his shadowed cheek. “You’ve got me, Dean.” With a quick twist, her other hand was free and she snuck it down between their bodies. He gaped as her fingers brushed his cock. “So what are you gonna do with me?”

He hummed darkly. “I’m gonna eat you alive.”

She tongued his lips. “Yeah?”

His mouth hung open for a second and his pupils dilated, eclipsing the brilliant green. “Oh, yeah.”

She slid the circle of her fingers down his shaft. “Like to see you try.”

Dean grinned and gave her a final, sloppy kiss before shifting over her and slinking down her body. He tugged the sheet away and kissed each nipple, spending a few more seconds on the left as was his routine. Y/N laid back, adjusting herself and spreading her thighs in anticipation.

“So gorgeous,” he murmured, still awestruck by her beauty in the soft morning light.

Y/N bucked her hips slowly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Winchester.”

He chuckled against her lower belly. “Oh, I am aware.”

Before she could pull in the next breath, Dean was inside of her. He drove his hot tongue into her pussy and nuzzled his nose against her clit. She gasped with budding pleasure as he licked deep into her.

“Goddamn!”

She shuddered and he pulled back an inch, blowing a warm breath up and down her slit.

“You alright up there?” Green eyes sparked with flirtatious deviousness.

Y/N groaned and wiggled her hips. “Get back to work and I will be.”

Dean smacked his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He pushed into her again, this time with two thick fingers. His nails scratched her lips slightly but it didn’t matter one bit once his mouth sealed around her clit. He swirled his tongue, pushed and sucked, thrust his fingers at a steadily increasing pace. Before long, she was panting and arching her hips off the bed, trying to get him deeper inside.

Sunrise became daylight and the streaks of gold lightened to pale yellow.

Y/N grabbed his rocketfin ears and tugged, trying to set herself free from his unrelenting lips.

“Dean-”

He shook his head, which only gave a new sensation and invoked an intense set of contractions in her cunt. He felt her body tighten and curled his fingers upwards.

“Dean- stop-”

She writhed against the pillow, held her breath, clawed at the sheet below.

“Dean!”

He came up for air, cheeks slick with her wetness, lips plumper than usual. “Huh?” He looked devastated for a moment, like a child who’d dropped his ice cream cone. “No good?”

Y/N shook her head and sat up a bit, looking down at him. “Too good.”

His brows furrowed. “Um-”

She reached for him. “Wanna come on your cock.”

His brow smoothed, his eyes fluttered. “Fuck.”

Sitting up, she grabbed his face and dragging him to her. She kissed his lips as she scooted closer, spreading herself as wide as she could.

Dean growled like an animal and tipped her back. He grabbed at her legs and fit himself between, resting her knees aside his trim waist.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

The light danced across her face as she squirmed, needing him inside. “Please…”

He reached a hand between them and tapped his cock against her clit. She bit back a shriek of pleasure and whined.

“Please!”

He smirked and dragged the tip through her slit, teasing but not giving her enough.

“Dean… God, please!”

It was taking all of his will not to slam into her, but he wanted the moment to last. He wanted to watch her face change from frustration to bliss as he pushed inside.

“Baby,” she whispered desperately, “please fuck me… I need you so bad…”

Rocking his hips, Dean nudged the tip of his cock at her dripping hole, bobbing in and out for a few pulses. When her features had twisted into utter pained frustration, he showed mercy and jabbed his cock into her. She sucked in a deep breath and melted, mind and body, to his touch.

“There’s my girl,” he sang, slowly pulling out and slamming back in. He ratcheted up the pace, holding his breath as her tightness hugged every bit of his length. “Fuck, baby…”

Y/N locked her hands around his biceps, cutting crescents into his arms with her sharp nails. He hissed at the feeling and thrust a little harder. She grunted in time with him and as the orgasm bloomed, her voice grew higher and higher.

“Give it to me,” he urged, staring deep into her eyes. The light was shining fully over her face now and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Come on, baby. Come with me.”

Another thrust and Dean lost it, shooting into her as the pleasure broke. He arched his back and curled inward, his jaw slack and his eyes mere slits.

Y/N felt the pressure as he emptied into her and she came soon after, milking the rest of his energy out with her powerful convulsions.

“Holy fuck, babe!”

She rolled onto her side, close to panting when he finally pulled away. Dean collapsed onto her pillow. Somehow, they’d switched sides during the malay, but neither gave a damn.

Y/N laid her hand on his chest and watched him come down. He closed his eyes and she marveled at the spray of thick lashes illuminated by the sunshine. The light tripped over a hundred freckles on his nose, on every tiny crease by his eyes, on each perfect imperfection.

He was beautiful.

Y/N pressed a kiss to his cheek and Dean turned into it, catching her lips.

“Good morning,” he said again, smiling gently, sated and exhausted.

Y/N laughed softly and snuggled into his side. “Sure fucking is.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05   

[lalasworld2x]

Chubby Reader x GN!Ghostface

You had been invited to a Halloween party and you were fucking ecstatic. Your friends were invited too so you would have someone to hang out with when the nerves inevitably set in. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet new people? Wishful thinking, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves just yet…

You didn’t have too much money at the moment so you decided to do a sort of closet cosplay. A skeleton maybe? You had some old black and white clothes that you could possibly paint over to make a cool skeleton design. You had some pretty sick jewellery you could throw on. Maybe some hair chalk and cool face paint? Actually, maybe a mask would be a better option. How about both just for the fun of it?

You were up in your room, trying on your old clothes just to see how they’d look out together. Honestly not too bad, you even started to like what you saw. You stood in your body sized mirror, checking yourself out. Then you stood to the side and everything was ruined. Your stomach was obvious… God, why did your legs have to look so large and lumpy? Could you have any less of a chin?! Maybe the mask was a good option.. You didn’t want people to see your chubby painted cheeks and look at your hideous body only to realise it’s you.

Already the anxiety came flooding back in and you regretted accepting the invite. Just as you turned back to face the mirror, tears drowning your eyes, a smudge of white was sitting in the corner of your window behind you. You realised you left the curtains open and freaked out, immediately spinning on your toes. Somebody was watching you from the window.

You screamed and jumped out of view, crouching behind your bed and covering your mouth with shaky hands. Somebody was wearing a black robe and an elongated ghost face mask. What kind of creep-?

“Hey, wait! Come back! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” their voice was oddly soothing. Just a peeping tom you supposed..

You moved back into view, seeing that they had their hands on your window sill and their head poking into your room. Creepy… “Uhm, what do you want?” your voice croaked, a mix of the tears from before and a bit of fear.

“Oh, I just saw you up here from down on the street and I thought you looked gorgeous.. I wanted to take a closer look, I didn’t mean for you to see me…”

“Yeah, well, you did a great job at that…”

“Hahah, sorry…”

A moment of silence passed.

“Did you really think I look gorgeous..?”

“Absolutely! Is that your Halloween costume? I think it looks hot…”

You swallowed hard. Enjoying the attention of a peeping tom? Sighh. You crawled out from behind your bed and sat in front of your window. Honestly their outfit was pretty hot too. Not much to it but just something about it was so…

“Wanna hear a secret?” You hesitantly nodded, not knowing what to expect but hoping it wasn’t gruesome. This was definitely the get up of a suspected serial killer. You inched a little closer and leaned in slightly. Your head was turned to the side so you couldn’t see their face as they lifted their mask. They were so close that you felt their lips brush against your ear. “I wanna rip those clothes right off you and see what’s underneath.”

Immediately they snatched their mask down and you squealed on shock, face turning beat red immediately. They chuckled and pushed themselves down the roof. You looked out the window in horror, thinking they had just fallen to their death or something, face still boiling hot from flusterment.

Nope, they were totally fine… They stood on your front drive way, waving up at you. You waved back and they walked away, robe swaying in the chilly wind. Something felt off about them but you didn’t worry about it. This interaction made you feeling weirdly good about yourself. Hopefully they don’t become a full time stalker…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is so bad, I apologise 🙂‍↕️ probably won’t do a part 2 so maybe don’t ask lol

Masterlist

[cypherscript]

Pulling a favor

Been watching Hazbin Hotel, really enjoying it so far. Time to mix my obsessions together cause that's what we do here, ain't it?

_____________________________________________________________

"Okay, I can get you the meeting but once you're in Heaven I wont be able to go with you. Will you be okay?"

Charlie takes Lucifer's hand into hers, "I'll be fine."

Lucifer places his other hand on hers, "That's my girl". He steps back, a look of pride on his face before sighing, "Good luck, kiddo." His magic flares from the ground, taking him away in a swirl of power before he steps out into a room full of his rubber ducks. Flopping down into a pile of ducks reveals a throne like chair that he slowly sinks into. "What should I do? Heaven's never going to listen to her... but maybe... YES! Where is it?" He begins digging through the multitude of ducks before pulling out a scroll with a note, 'One Favor-open when shit hits the fan'.

With a flourish he breaks the seal on the scroll, tossing it into the air as it bursts into an acid green flame and grows larger and larger until it's nearly 6ft tall, Lucifer lowers his head: not quite a bow but somewhat respectful, "King Pariah, I have a request, I have need of-"

"Uuuuh," a voice most definitely not King Pariah spoke, "I don't know who you are but Pariah's long gone."

Lucifer looks up to see the flames displacing a human boy sitting at a table eating food with his family. "Someone... Someone defeated the Infinite King?"

"Who is it sweetie? One of your ghost friends," The mother asks as the boy stands up, grasping the 'frame' of the green fire. "Isn't Pariah the ghost that stole our town?"

"Yeah mom, I'm not sure who this is so I'll just take this into another room."

"Alright Danno, I'll save you some meatloaf," the massive man who was obviously the boys father.

Lucifer's mind was going a million mile an hour, 'The Infinite King was defeated... The scroll opened to this human boy... This boy defeated Pariah Dark in single combat... HOW?! Human's are so squishy.'

The boy released the flame to float in front of him, "So why were you trying to contact king edgelord?"

"I am... sorry... but who are you?"

"Ah... so you're not a ghost," The boy asks, tilting his head before a ring of pure white light travels over his body transforming him; hair whiter than the holy light, eyes as green as the flame he spoke into, a cloak of stars that continued for what seemed forever over a black and white hazmat suit with a crown of aurora over his head. "My name is Phantom, Pariah tried to take what was mine and I had to put him back where he came from but I suppose you've already pieced that together..." Phantom gestures to introduce himself.

"Yes sir, I have, I am Lucifer of the Morningstar."

"The archangel?"

"Yes, that's... usually not the first guess people go with, I'm also the leader of Hell. I had used this scroll to ask a favor of the Infinite King. My daughter, Charlie, is going to Heaven to meet with the other angels about this plan she has to save the sinners from being slaughtered by the angel exterminators."

"Slaughtered? Aren't they already dead?"

"Normally yes but the angel's weapons can completely destroy the sinner's soul when they're exterminated."

Phantom stills from messing with his cloak, his face stony and shadowy as the lights in the room begin to flicker, "Their souls are destroyed?"

Lucifer feels something he's not felt in a long time creep up his spine, "Yes sir, I was hoping to ask for a favor to protect Charlie while she's up there. They can easily kill her, I'll happily agree to make a deal with you for it."

"No," Phantom says, cutting Lucifer off.

"Ah... I see, thank you for your time," Lucifer goes to cut off the flame video.

"I mean 'No' to the deal. I'll help you but not for a deal, I'd also like to have a word with these angels as well"

"Oh thank you, Phantom! Do I need to bring you here?"

"No need, one second," Phantom leans away from the flame, "Can you guys put my food up?! I've got some duties to take care of love you!"

"Can do, Danno!"

"Love you, sweetie!"

"Right, step away from the flame please." Lucifer does so and Phantom steps through flame with a ripple. Once he's through the flame poofs out of existence. "Nice place, love the... ducks?"

"Ah yes, they're a project of mine..."

"Well, I've seen weirder obsessions. Now what's this about destroying souls?"

"Right, let me explain while I set up the meeting with the angels for Charlie.

_____________________________________________________________

Danny had never heard of such bullshit in his unlife and he worked with the observants for ancient's sake! He steps out of the portal provided by Lucifer, switching to his human form, to the so called Pearly Gates with some Suburbia Ken standing at a podium.

"Welcome to Heaven! May I please know your name?"

"Danny Fenton."

"Right let's see; Dan, Danielle, Ah yes, Daniel Fenton. Oh goodness, you've been dead for some time, why are you just now getting into Heaven?"

"Traffic?"

"..." The angel stands in silence then bursts into a smile, "Well regardless, welcome to heaven!" He throws open the gates and Danny steps inside, his nose twitching at the lack of anything. His eyes lock onto the tallest tower and makes his way to it, the elevator inside playing harps and lyres for elevator music. As he gets closer to his destination he can hear the angels and Charlie musically their debate.

"Ancients I hate Musical dimensions," He says as the elevator comes to a slowing stop. "Showtime," Danny smiles as his transformation takes place, the holy lights in the elevator dimming and flickering.

_____________________________________________________________

Sera looks to Charlie, "I'm sorry, the court finds that the souls in Hell can not be redeemed."

Adam is all smiles at this point, "Ohhohoho YES! I win. Suck it! You better save the day c*&ts because we're coming to your hotel first."

"Are you now?" a male voice asks from behind him, grabbing his hand as he and crushing it in his grip.

"Ah fuck, my hand! Who the fuck are you," Adam screams as the courtroom fills with the inky void of space and Phantom fades into view.

Sera looks down on Phantom and then do his crown, "What are you doing here, Phantom? You have no right to be in this court!"

"No RIGHT?! Do you know what this bastard's doing?! I have every right to be here." Phantom tosses Adam easily to the ground. "You're destroying souls!!"

Adam gets up and summons a sword and swings at Phantom with it scream, "What's it to you freak-show?! Who cares what happens those piss bastard sinners?!"

"Sinners huh? Then why are you here?" Phantom turns frigid as a chain of ice appears on Adam's neck, the end in Phantom's hand. He yanks it tightly, pulling Adam to the floor. "Mister First Sinner. How could you get into heaven?"

The other angels in the court whispering, asking the same question.

"How are you doing that?!"

"None of your business. I was hoping Lucifer's daughter would be able to talk some sense into the lot of you but it seems there's just to many rotten apples up here. Let me fix that." Phantom steps onto Adam's back, grabbing his wings and ripping them off in a quick pull, filling the court with his screams. Lute tries to come to his aid but is slammed into the ground by the inky blackness.

"Phantom that is enough," Sera shouts down to him as she flashes down to the floor, "Why are you here? How did you know know this meeting was taking place?" Phantom glances at Charlie, still holding Vaggie, causing Sera to sigh, "Of course it was Lucifer..."

"I'll freely admit he asked me to be here to watch after here but it became so much more when I found out what this asshole's been doing."

"He did what he had to do, the demons were going to rebel and we had to protect our own souls. They need to be kept in line!"

"There is no their souls or your souls. You are disrupting the balance, if you kill the soul there's going to be issues with the mortal worlds and if the mortal world goes so do yours. You were so worried about the demons attacking you? You keep destroying souls and all you're going to have to worry about is me."

"Are you threatening Heaven, Infinite King?"

The wings in Phantoms hands turn to ice and shatter into billions of pieces, "I don't make threats, Sera, I make promises." Phantom treads over to Charlie and Vaggie, thrusting his hand out and portal much like a blackhole opens up, "Come along you two." They simply step through with him as the court of angels burst into a cacophony of angelic shouts of alarm and outrage.