#i am hunched into my chair head on the desk to get this photo

[amonguscrewmate]

Damm bbg where you going with all that ass

[verynormalazulashengrottoenjoyer]

Pining Thoughts

Oh that poor, unfortunate soul. Azul just can't seem to get you out of his head, now can he? And trust, it's driving him absolutely insane.

Fluff! Gender neutral y/n. About 8kish words?

Canon story event context!!: this story builds off of and directly branches off from the visit to the Atlantica Memorial Museum at the end of Book 3, and the conversation the prefect and Azul have when Azul goes to return the photo. The lines that I use at the beginning are pulled directly from the entwst translated dialogue! Basically, he takes what you said to heart, a lil too much

~~~

“You’re amazing as it is, even without stealing anyone else’s powers.”

“What…?”

“Your incredible diligence is so rare, it left the headmage at a loss.”

“You…you think?”

“Heh…you needn’t try so hard to butter me up.”

~~~

It had been about a month since that trip down to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to return Azul’s childhood photo. About a month since that conversation had taken place between you and Azul, away from the rest of the group. You two had walked side by side, as Azul had poured his heart out to you. 

“The Sea Witch never hid her past misdeeds. She worked hard to restore her reputation, and earned the people's respect that way. I kept saying I wanted to be like her… but in the end, I couldn’t accept my own past. I kept rejecting it.” 

Azul hunches over his unfinished paperwork, remembering those vulnerable words that spilled from his mouth. He runs his hand through his already messy, light gray, wavy hair, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. 

“…How stupid.” he mutters.

How could he have said all that to you? Seriously, what in his right mind compelled him to say something so…so…weak. To you. 

But, in actuality, that part of the whole interaction consumed the least of his mind, what really had Azul in turmoil was your response. 

Amazing..? Incredible…? My diligence…? 

Those sweet compliments rang in his mind, day and night those two sentences replayed over and over in his mind, the way you looked at him with full sincerity in your eyes as you said it. Your voice contained no malice, no ulterior motives…only compassion.

That’s something he wasn’t used to.

And it was driving him insane.

You’d been so kind to him through it all. The overblot. God, he could’ve killed you. And yet here you were, still smiling at him, complimenting him, treating him like he was…normal. Like a friend.

Azul’s purple bow tie of his dorm uniform was undone, hanging over his neck loosely. The top button of his white dress shirt was unbuttoned. His black vest and coat were thrown messily over the back of his chair as he sits at his desk in the VIP Room of the Mostro Lounge, and his black fedora was thrown on the floor next to him. Azul closes his eyes as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head back and stretching his legs out under his desk. 

So what if you had given him a few compliments? It was just some words. People get compliments all the time. It didn’t mean anything. 

And still, he could not get them out of his head. He could not get you out of his head.

Why??? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?? Azul let’s out another deep sigh as he opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. But one thought manages to slip through:

… are they thinking about me too?

“Hah…” Azul let’s out a breathy laugh and softly shakes his head, “What a stupid thought. Of course they're not. This is me overthinking… that’s all.” 

And with that final push away from his thoughts, Azul straightens up and looks back down at his work, picking up his pen as he continues his tasks. But as he writes, his hand gliding across the paper, he just can’t shake that underlying feeling…a tingling sensation in his chest…that always seems to linger when he thinks of you. 

…

“AWWWWW YEAH. I AM STARVING!!!!”

Azul jumps upright in his seat, pulled from his thoughts. He knew that voice, it was the voice of Grim, that cat-like monster, or whatever the hell he is. He seemed to have just entered the Mostro Lounge.

That damn cat’s always so obnoxiously loud, Azul thought. 

Suddenly, Azul’s heart drops, his face turning ghastly pale. 

Wait… Grim. That must mean… the prefect is here as well.

Azul drops his pen to the floor, rushing over to the little window of the VIP lounge, moving the curtain just enough to see a sliver of the general dining area of the Mostro Lounge. Sure enough, there you were with Grim, along with the other first-years you were usually around, Ace and Deuce. 

Azul pulls back from the curtain quickly, looking around for his vest and jacket. In a frenzy, he throws them on, as well as ties and straightens out his bow tie. He slips on his gloves. His heart pounds.

After somewhat composing himself, he opens the door of the VIP Lounge, making his way over to you and your group. On his way, he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the large fish tank wall of the lounge, noticing a small piece of hair sticking up. He quickly goes to brush it down with his hand. In the reflection, he can see his hand shaking. He sharply turns his head away from the reflection. Come on Azul. Pull yourself together.

Azul finally reaches the group of first-years, clearing his throat.

“Why, if it isn’t the most famous first-years of Night Raven College! Gracing us with your presence here at my humble Mostro Lounge today, are we?” 

“Hi!” You say cheerfully to Azul, smiling and waving at him, stepping a foot closer.

Azul stops in his tracks, freezing as though someone held a remote to him and pressed the pause button. 

“H-hello!” Azul’s voice cracks as he pushes out a greeting. “Y/N, I’m glad to see you’re- um- doing well!” 

You nod slightly, “Mhm, yes. You too.” 

Azul smiles, letting out an awkward, nervous chuckle, looking at you for a…slightly uncomfortable amount of time? 

“...Um…think we could get seated? Please?”

“OH! Oh!! Yes!! Of course! Right this way, right this way” Azul jumps a bit, your request snapping him out of his trance. Finally, he moves from his place, waving frantically for you and your group to sit at a booth. “Ahem, might I get you some menus?” 

“Please, thank you.” You respond politely. Azul quickly grabs four menus, placing them on the table. “I’ll have one of my employees come over to act as your waiter immediately” Azul says, still only looking at you. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t even glanced at the others. “E-enjoy!” He exclaims. 

Oh, but he’s not done making a fool of himself yet.

Awkwardly, he continues to linger at the edge of your table. After a couple seconds, he tentatively asks “Um…I trust I’ll be seeing you in club this week, Y/N?” 

“Uhh…yeah. Probably.” You nod.  

Azul smiles and bows his head quickly, backing up a bit “E-excellent, see you then”. Suddenly, he stumbles as he walks back, nearly tripping over the ornamental rug on the floor. The stumble causes his already slipping glasses to fall to the floor. 

I have GOT to move that rug. 

“O-oh! Are you okay?” You lift up a hand as his glasses clatter on the ground.

“I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine! Worry not of me! Enjoy your meal!” Azul spits out, letting out a small, constrained laugh, reaching his hand down to pick up the glasses. He hastily places them on his nose, resulting in them resting in a crooked position on his face. Smiling awkwardly and taking one final, small bow to you, he scurries away back into the VIP Lounge.

…

Silence suffocates the table.

“…What the fuck was that?” Ace says, breaking the silence.

“He was…really nice?” Deuce, looking utterly confused. 

“More like…really weird. Why was he being so awkward?? Isn’t his whole gimmick… like… being smooth?” 

You look at Ace and Deuce, nodding in agreement, “Yeah…that was kinda odd I’m not gonna lie…” you shrug “I dunno”. It was kinda cute though, you think to yourself. Of course, you’d never say that out loud. Especially not to these three.

You definitely liked Azul. But he definitely does not like you back. All that man has feelings for are the scrolls in his desk. That’s the conclusion you had come to, anyways. 

“I DON’T care. I just want food. Come on, come on! Figure out what you want so we can order already!!!” Grim says, pushing the menu into your face.

“OKAY, okay. Damn.” You snatch the menu from Grim.

~~~

Meanwhile, Azul’s sweating bullets in the VIP Lounge.

What the HELL was I doing out there???!!??!

Azul sits in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

I was so…weird!! What if they dislike me now?? Oh god… how humiliating… they'll avoid me now! They're going to avoid me! No no no… maybe I could trick them into signing a contract that’ll make them not avoid me? Reverse restraining order? NO. Azul! What are you THINKING?

Azul buries his face in his clammy hands, which are now ungloved. His glasses are strewn on the floor next to him as he sits in a tight ball. If only he hadn’t left his octopot in his dorm room. He’d be curled up in there right now.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Azul’s head shoots up to see none other than Jade Leech standing at the doorway.

“How many times have I told you to KNOCK, Jade.” Azul says angrily. “Didn’t I take away your key???”

“Haha…of course…my apologies. And the key is irrelevant”. Jade puts on his sharp-toothed grin, indiciating he’s really anything but sorry. “I just couldn’t help but address that spectacle you put on out there. Quite the show, really.” 

“QUIET! I-I..!” Azul tries to push out an explanation, but comes up empty handed, throwing his head back into the palms of his hands. He entangles his hands in his hair, staring down into his lap.

“Mmm…who would've thought. What used to be that chubby little octopus has a crush now! Why, they grow up too fast.”

Now this catches Azul’s attention. Not only does his head shoot up, his whole body lifts as he pulls himself to a standing pushing. “CRUSH? Nonsense! I don’t have a crush! What a…a…a  childish idea Jade!” 

“Well, it appeared that way to me.” Jade says, voice unwavering. Jade was so calm…almost condescending (average Jade demeanor).

Azul waves his hands frantically, damn near throwing a tantrum, “And WHAT in your right mind would make you think that? Huh? Because I was a bit clumsy?” Azul’s eyes are wide as his pale face turns red. From anger? Or embarrassment? Maybe both?

“Okay! I’ll admit it! I wasn’t as put together as I usually am out there. I just…was taken by surprise! But it has nothing to do with…any…romantic feelings…” Azul’s voice fades away as he turns his head away from Jade, his hands falling down to his sides. His face bright red, he looks incredibly conflicted, almost ashamed. 

“Azul. I’ve known you for quite a long time. It truly is useless attempting to hide how you feel from me. You do understand this, yes?”

Azul maintains his gaze away from Jade for a few seconds. Then, he lets out a sigh, as he tentatively turns his head back to Jade.

And oh, and does that boy look defeated. 

The best way to describe the look in Azul’s eyes is…longing. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly. The bags under his eyes are enough to tell Jade the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. 

Azul walks over to his desk, falling into the chair behind it. He puts his elbows on the table, once more placing his face in the palm of his hands as he leans forward. 

“Ok. Alright. You’re right Jade. Yes? Does that satisfy you and your nosiness? I like them, Jade. You win.” Azul winces slightly at those last couple words. Hearing them come from his own mouth was painful.

Jade finally steps away from the doorway and takes a seat in front of Azul’s desk, opposite him. 

“Huh. I’m surprised. I thought it would’ve taken more than that to get you to confess” Jade smirks as he sits upright in the chair. Looking smug, even. 

With no energy left to combat Jade’s remarks, Azul waves his hand in defeat, the other hand remaining on his face to prop his head up as he looks down at the desk.

“And why? Why go so out of your way to put me through this…” Azul’s eyebrows furrow once more “this”. Azul’s chest feels heavy, and it’s difficult to breathe. Not giving Jade a chance to respond, Azul lifts his head, and in a frustrated tone, he begins a tangent.

“Huh? Well? Now what Jade? What do you propose I do with these… feelings?” That last word has a sharpness to it, a fond disliking. “This confession serves no purpose! They obviously doesn’t like me back, Jade. You understand what that would do to my reputation? To be rejected? By the prefect of all people? Shit, they've got more influence than me at this school. They could destroy me” Though I’d never admit that to their face “I… I can’t lose her.”

I know enough about risk. I’ve made my fair share of deals, I’ve signed my fair share of contracts. To put something so…precious…on the line for these stupid emotions. It’s simply not an option.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What do you mean, Jade?” Azul breaks away from his thoughts, looking up to meet Jade’s eyes, voice dripping in frustration. .

“I wouldn’t be so sure about they're feelings, Azul. Have you asked?”

“N-no! No! I couldn’t! …Jade, are you suggesting that they may…” Azul’s eyes are wide, waiting expectantly for an answer to leave Jade’s mouth.

“A moment, Azul” Jade lifts his hands, indicating the need to slow down,  “All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t be so sure. I never said that they do. That’s something you’d need to figure out.”

At this, Azul drops his head once more, shaking his head, “Jade. I can’t.”

“...Fine, just let them get snatched up by some other man then” Jade states dismissively.

“…What?”

“What? You think they'll wait around forever for you?”

….

“It’s merely a suggestion Azul. Furthermore, I recommend you take action fast. They've got quite a few friends you know. On the good side of many. They're quite… compassionate” Azul flinches at this remark. Jade notices, and lets out a small chuckle “Though, I’m sure you know that quite well already. So, I do hope you are not taken by surprise when someone…how do they say… ‘beats you to the punch’.”

Azul’s face turns ghastly white. 

“Anyways Azul” Jade lifts himself from the chair, straightening out his coat, “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of…work… to do. I’d hate to get in the way. Good day”. He shows that sharp-toothed grin once more, looking quite pleased with himself as he turns to walk out the door.

Azul sits in silence, those previous words still ringing in his mind.

Beats me…to the punch? Another man? 

Jade’s shoes click on the floor as he approaches the door. He opens it, but stops to leave Azul with some final words of suggestion…

“Might I suggest, a gift?”

“…a gift?” Azul squeaks out. He lifts his eyes, if only slightly, to look at Jade. His entire body feels heavy, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. Because he really hadn’t. 

Jade nods, “Precisely. A gift. A physical manifestation of your…’appreciation’”.

Azul blankly stares at Jade.

“Again, it’s merely a suggestion. Do what you will with it.” 

With that, Jade closes the door, and with a click, it shuts.

And so, Azul is alone once more, left with his thoughts. 

A gift huh… Azul pulls out his phone to glance at the time. A gift…  I might just have enough time…yes…perhaps this…this could work…?

~~~ 

The setting sun shines through the windows onto the deck of cards in front of you. You and Idia, the fiery-haired third year, sit across from each other as you idly chat after school in the typical classroom of the weekly Board Game Club meeting. The room buzzes with chatter as other students converse among themselves in their respective groups. You always feel at ease in the comfortable and laid back environment of the club. But… it’s missing something today.

“Honestly dude…One Piece is just too long. I do NOT have time to watch all that.”

“It’s not even that long, what do you mean??”

“Girl isn’t it like over a thousand episodes??”

“Woah” Idia puts up his hand “First of all, I am NOT a girl. I’d consider myself more of a, heh, sigma male.”

“...No fucking way you just said that shit seriously bro”. 

“You’re just mad you’re not a sigma male”.

“I don't want to be though???”

“Dude, just shut up and listen, One Piece is freakin’ awesome. Literally, it’s gotta be in my Top 3! I guess the pacing could use some work, but when you look at it from an overall picture…”

Idia’s voice seems to fade away as you glance at your phone. It’s ten minutes past the start of today’s club meeting. 

I wonder where Azul is…he’s usually here by now. You shake your head slightly, brushing the fleeting thought from your mind. It shouldn’t matter to me anyways. He probably wouldn’t even notice if I wasn’t here. You remember the short interaction you had earlier that day at the Mostro Lounge. It almost seemed like…he wanted to get away from us…from me?

And still, you can’t shake that heavy feeling in your heart knowing you’d have to wait another week. What a childish feeling, to be upset over not not getting to spend a couple hours at your college club with a boy. But you couldn’t help it. You’d have to wait another week to sit and converse with the gray-haired housewarden. The way his blue eyes lock with your own as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, studying your face as his pink lips curl into a subtle smile as you tell him about your day. The way his glasses slowly slip down the bridge of his nose as he lets out a small, soft laugh, and nods, acknowledging the words and emotions that spill from your mouth, the way-

“Dude, are you good?” 

“...Huh?”

Idia still sits across from the table, staring at you, genuinely confused “Why’re you shaking your head? Are you really that against watching One Piece? 

You stare at Idia for a moment, before you let out a chuckle and shake your head once more, looking down at the stack of cards, “No, no. Sorry Idia. Um, I just got distracted for a sec, I was thinking about something off topic”. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back as you reach for the cards. 

“I’ll probably watch it one day man. Just not anytime soon”.

Just before your hands hit the cards, the door to the classroom swings open. At the door is none other than the boy that you had just managed to push out of your mind, Azul Ashengrotto.

Damn. Were his ears ringing or something?

Azul is clearly disheveled. The usually put together man has hair sticking up in some places, and hair sticking to his forehead due to sweat in other places. The coat to his school uniform is nowhere to be seen, only wearing the signature white shirt, black pants, and black and white striped tie of the Night Raven College Uniform. He holds his light purple vest in his hands, indicating his status as an Octavinelle dorm member. His glasses are crooked on his nose. 

As soon as he bursts through the door, his eyes land on you. The eye contact you share is brief, as he immediately pulls his gaze away, attempting to brush his hair down and straighten out his clothes. 

“Hey man. Took ya long enough” Idia remarks. 

You clear your throat as you shoot Azul a smile. “Mhm. We saved you a seat”. You pat the seat next to you. 

“O-oh!” Azul looks at your hand as it pats the area next to you. “That’s…quite considerate. Thank you prefect”. Azul places his vest behind the chair as he takes his seat next to you, continuing to avoid eye contact.

How the HELL am I going to do this…? God, I can’t even look at them.

You look at Azul one final time before you turn your attention back to Idia. “Alright, I’ll deal”. 

..

After about half an hour of playing a variety of card games, you turn to Azul once more. He has yet to speak a word. “Azul? You wanna play?”

“No!” he exclaims immediately, “Ahem…” he clears his throat, regaining his composure, “N-no thank you. I’ve chosen to observe today. Yes. To observe. I’d like to study your techniques in order to improve mine. Success doesn’t happen on its own, you know.”

Nice save Azul, he thinks to himself. Truth is, he’s too scared to play in fear of you seeing how much his hands are shaking due to his nerves. 

I don’t think I’d even be able to hold a card right now.

“...Chat is this real?” Idia asks.

“Yo chat is this real?” You add in.

“...what?” Azul asks blankly. 

What the FUCK does “chat is this real?” mean? 

“He fr doesn’t wanna play? Azul? The most competitive person in the club? The most competitive person in ALL OF NRC, basically?” Idia questions, sounding genuinely surprised. 

Azul stutters in his response, “I’m-I’m studying your techniques. So that I may assure victory the next time we play! Do not judge my methods of success Shroud!”

“...Whatever floats your boat dude” Idia responds in a bored tone, letting the topic go. 

You take this chance to jump into the conversation, as you turn your body to face Azul, “It’s okay, you and I can play next time. You could put your studied techniques to use then” you smile sweetly at him as you add in that last bit. 

Azul nods, his face going red as he feels it burning up, “Yes…I’d very much like that”.

You and Azul look at each other, if not only for 1 or 2 seconds, but somehow, it feels as though you two are the only ones in the room. Saying nothing, your smiles remain on your faces, as you look into each other’s eyes. 

Huh, his eyes really are pretty. They kinda look like…the ocean? Hah…quite fitting, I guess. 

…

“Normie shit” 

“Huh?” You break eye contact as you turn to look at Idia, pulled from your trance. 

Idia rolls his eyes, and in an annoyed tone, states, “Ugh. Nothing. Can you just deal the cards already? You’ve been holdin’ em’, like, basically forever now”.

“Oh… yeah. Sure. Sorry.” 

And with that, you set up another game. You two continue on with your card games, while you talk about fnaf or some shit idk this part isn’t really important to the story so just imagine you’re like arguing about fnaf lore, that’s something ya'll would prob do. Anyways, while you’re talking about nonsensical stuff…

Azul’s heart pounds through it all, his throat feeling dry. He watches the minutes go by on the clock, each click of the minute hand making his heart lurch. Just gotta ask them… You’ve got this.

I’ve got this?

~~~

The clock hits 8:00pm, and people begin to shuffle out of the classroom, heading back to their dorms for the night. 

You say your goodbyes to Idia. He says he’s gotta make it in time for the Final Fantasy dungeon before it closes or something, to be honest, you don’t know half of the stuff he talks to you about (smile and nod smile and nod), so Idia grabs his stuff and quickly heads back to his dorm.

Azul lingers as the rest of the students filter out, leaving just you and him alone in the room. Yeah, you two are alone. Perfect…right? 

“You heading back to your dorm, Azul?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He nods. “…yes.”

You nod, grabbing your bag and your phone, “Well then…I’ll see you soon? Next week probably, right? For club? 

“Um..yes. Of course” Azul shuffles in place. His responses make it sound as though he is also prepared to leave, but his actions seem to say otherwise. 

Okayyyy…?

“Um. Well then…!” You leave him with one final smile before you head towards the door, your light footsteps echoing throughout the silent room. 

Azul watches your back as you move towards the door. No. You were about to leave. He can’t waste this chance. It’s now or never. He can’t let you slip through his grasp. With conviction, Azul quickly takes a few steps forward, reaching out his hand.

“W-wait!” His fingers wrap around your upper arm. His hands are so…cold. Are they always like this? 

You jump a bit at the feeling, immediately stopping in your tracks as you turn slightly to look at him, a look of surprise on your face. 

“Why’d you…?” Your heart stops not only at his freezing touch, but at the look in his eyes. His eyes are wide and expectant, as though he’s pleading with you not to go. 

“Y/N…could you…meet me at the VIP Room of the Mostro Lounge? Around…10? I… I um…I have something to give you….if that's alright…”

“Something to give me?” You now turn to face him completely, your heart pounding. You can practically hear the beat of it in your ears. Can he hear it too?  “What are you gonna give me?” He has yet to let go of your arm. 

“You’ll see when I give it to you. It’s…it’s nothing much! It’s only due payment. For…for helping with my…overblot.” Azul looks away, shame falling over his face as he remembers that incident.  “I can’t have me being in debt to you, you know” His eyes fall back onto you, and he notices that he’s still gripping your arm. 

“O-oh!” He pulls his arm back quickly as it shrinks into his chest. “Sorry!” He clears his throat “… Um… so… will I be seeing you tonight?” That last phrase drips in desperation.

You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. 

“Will I be seeing you tonight…?” That sounded oddly…no. No. Of course not. You already knew he didn’t think about you that way. Don’t get ahead of yourself Y/N. 

You nod. “Sure…okay. Yeah...I’m gonna head back to my dorm to change, then I'll go over to the Lounge…is that okay?” 

“Yes!!!” Azul says, a little too enthusiastically. Once more, he clears his throat. Man, how many times does a man need to clear his throat? “I mean- certainly. I’ll see you then”. Azul nods, before he turns on his heel and basically runs out the door.

…

Did that just happen? You stand in the exact same place Azul left you in. You lift your hand slowly to touch the place on your arm that Azul had wrapped his fingers around. You could still feel the chill that ran up your arm from his cold touch. Did he just…invite me to the dorm tonight? You touch your face, you feel light headed, your skin feels hot, your heart pounds.

Oh shit. 

~~~

Now in casual clothes, you knock on the door of the VIP Lounge. Your hand shakes as you knock one, two, three times. Almost immediately after the third knock, the door swings open.

“Y/N!” 

You almost fall back in surprise. “Oh my God!”, you stumble back a bit, as Azul suddenly stands inches away from your face. 

“S-sorry!” Azul puts his hand up, about to grab you to stop you from falling, but stops just centimeters away from your skin. “Uh…” he puts his hand down quickly. “Sorry, I was just…close to the door. Ahem.” Azul steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the room. “Come in…please.”

That “please”... why did it sound a little like…he was begging? No. No no no. It was just your imagination. What is up with you and your imagination today?

As you walk into the room, Azul closes the door behind you. Studying his back, you take note of his attire. He remains in his black slacks and white button up dress shirt only, the top two buttons undone, revealing just a bit of his collarbone. He looks quite casual now. Definitely a change from his normal presentation. He really does have a nice figure. You think to yourself. Of course he does, he’s worked for it. Like everything else he has.

Azul quickly makes his way over to the other side of his desk after closing the door, walking straight past you, and he begins to rummage around in his drawer hastily. He has yet to say a word to you. Just as you’re about to say something, he presents you with something. Suddenly, he has pulled out…a bubble?

No. Not just a bubble. You take a step forward to get a closer look, “Azul, what is…” your eyes widen as you take a better look at the round item Azul has presented to you in the palms of his hands. 

It was a clear, crystalized water bubble, and at the center of it lay the most beautiful conch shell you’d ever seen. This shell, glimmering in the crystallized water of the bubble, reflected the soft light of the VIP Lounge, making it seem as though it were glowing. Held in place by the crystallization of the water, the shell was on display perfectly in the center, as though it were on a pedestal. But, even more notable, was the color of this shell: It was an azure-blue, the same color as…something that seemed very, very familiar. 

“This…is for you.”

“What?”

“It’s for you.”

“For…me?”

Azul’s hands shake as they begin to fall down towards the desk, taking the crystalized shell along with them. Rapidly, coming out in a string of words, Azul begins to speak, “If-if you don’t like it, you are under no obligation to accept it prefect! I will find some other way to repay you! What would you prefer? If you could provide me a list, I’d be more than happy to-”

“Azul. It’s…it’s, really, really pretty.”

His voice halts, and his face twitches. His eyes flicker up to meet yours,“…it is?”

Carefully, you pick up the bubble from his hands. As your hands slip under the bubble, you’re once again faced with the freezing sensation of Azul’s hands, as the back of your hands slide against the palms of his. Gently, you lift the bubble to your face, the light from the room causing the color of the conch in the water to reflect onto your face and eyes, creating a soft, blue tone. 

Azul admires you as you study the conch. Oh, is he absolutely mesmerized by you being…well…mesmerized. 

“H-how…? How did you get this?”

“...I made it.”

“You WHAT?” You say in disbelief, your eyes widening.

The surprise in your voice boosts Azul’s ego a bit, and he straightens up at this. “Hehe… quite. I made it. It’s actually a shell from the Atlantica Memorial Museum. I thought that it would be…appropriate…for the occasion…so I took a short trip down in the ocean for it. I thought that…it might have a little more worth if it was actually connected to a…shared experience of ours…” his voice trails off as the last little bit falls from his lips.

You look at him, genuinely confused. With your eyebrows furrowed, a string of questions leaves your mouth, “Huh? What do you mean? Occasion? Shared experience?” 

“Well…” Azul takes a deep breath in, and a shaky breath out. “Those words… that you said to me…you told me I was amazing… that I had incredible diligence…during our walk outside the museum. Such kind words, for someone like me?” Azul's gaze falls to the ground, as his face begins to heat up once more in embarrassment. He awaits a response from you. 

…

“Did I?”

Azul's jaw nearly drops in disbelief and his head shoots up to meet your eyes. “Y-you mean to say…you don’t remember?????”

“Honestly…no?”

At this, Azul nearly crumbles from the pressure and humiliation, “O-oh… I’m… um…apologies prefect…I just assumed you would remember. Oh dear, forget what I said, please-”

“No! …I mean. Whatever I said, I know I meant it. I might not remember saying it, but I’d never lie to you Azul. Your diligence is incredible. I see the way you work. You really are amazing. I admire you. Really.”

You set the conch down on his desk with a clink, and you run a finger over it, avoiding eye contact with Azul, gazing down at the bubble. 

“I’m really, really happy you gave this to me Azul.” You look up at him, directly in the eyes. He’s frozen in place, taking in each and every one of your words.You stay silent for a couple seconds, before the next words fill the room’s stifling silence, “Did you notice… that the conch is the same color as your eyes?” You look back down at the bubble on the table, tenderly pulling it into the palms of your hands. You hold it up to Azul’s eye level. “Yes. Exactly the same” A small smile spreads across your lips. “Thank you, Azul”.

They…they like it?

Azul’s heart pounds. He feels as though he might just pass out. The knot in his chest feels so tight, he can’t breathe. God, he’s practically bursting at the seams. He can’t do it anymore. He can’t hold back. He needs to tell you. He needs to do this. Now. Right now.

Reaching his hands out, slowly, almost hesitantly, he softly grabs your wrists, one wrist in each hand. He lets go of one, grabbing the conch and gently setting it down on the table once more.

“Y/N.”

Your heart lurches as he says your name. Oh how you love the way he says your name.

You don’t say anything in response. You just stare at him. Your throat feels dry and itchy.

“I….”

Azul’s voice trails off…he contemplates. 

Taking a deep breath in, Azul asks you a simple, but crucial question, “I need to be honest with you. Can…can I be honest with you? Please…?” Azul lets a hint of pleading, a hint of yearning, roll off of his tongue. 

You can only nod in response. It’s a small, slow nod. You don’t break eye contact. Not once.

His voice chokes, “I…” and he softly shakes his head, pulling his hands away from your wrists as he places one hand to his chest, and the other falls limply to his side. He quietly gulps, parting his lips slightly to take a small breath before he speaks,

“I…I can’t stop ... .I can't stop thinking…about…” his fingers tightly grip his button-up shirt.

You look at him, his conflicted state plastered on his face, reflected in his eyes, as though he’s fighting some sort of inner battle.

“About you.”

You feel as though all the blood drains from your face. Lightheadedness hits you like a truck.

His hands visibly shake as they return to softly grip your wrists. Slowly, he runs his hands up and over the palms of your hands, tentatively intertwining his fingers with yours. His hands feel clammy and cold, and that familiar chill crashes over you, climbing into the depths of your nerves, as his hands tremble in your own. He holds on lightly, as though he’s scared you’re going to dissipate into the air, like you’re going to crumble with any pressure applied.  

“I…feel…so…” his voice trails off…

…

“Confused.” His voice cracks with the last syllable.

And with that, his next words come out like crashing waves.

“I can’t concentrate, Y/N. My paperwork, my meetings, my studies, none of it. I simply can't.  Every single day…I feel like… like…” He squeezes your hands ever so slightly, “…like I’m going insane…All I can think about is you. I’m losing sleep Y/N. I can’t sleep.”  That last word contains a hint of pining, a whine, like a dog pleading with its owner.

“Y/N…” Azul releases your intertwined hands, now wrapping both of your hands in his own, cupping them into his and pulling them close to his chest.

“Tell me…what do I do?” His voice cracks, the last part of the sentence essentially a whimper. He’s searching hopelessly for an answer. And he wants you to give it to him.

You stand there, absolutely dumbfounded. You part your mouth, but no words come out. 

Worry not, Azul’s not finished. He continues on.

I’ve made a fool of myself already. My reputation. Our relationship. I’ve risked it all. I’m not one to gamble…but I have nothing left to lose now. 

“I’ve never….felt this way before. Y/N…would you… would you be willing…to take a chance with me?” 

His hands tremble over yours as your eyes widen at this request.

“You know…I hate to ask for things. But…I’m willing to swallow my pride today. For this. For you. I’d like to propose a…a deal…”

He pauses, studying your eyes, hoping maybe, just maybe, he’d find an answer in them.

“Would you… give me your heart?…You…you wouldn’t leave this deal empty handed..! A mutual exchange…even and fair…you give me your heart…and I’ll give you mine.”

Still, you are unable to say anything. You feel dizzy, you can’t think straight. Your words are caught in your throat. Are you about to fall over? Is this real? You’re not dreaming right? 

Azul takes a deep breath in, and boldly takes one more step: he pulls a single hand of yours to his face, both of his hands holding your single one in place on his left cheek. He holds on, softly, but unyielding, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. The same as his hands, his face is freezing cold.

 It must be his whole body that feels this way, you think to yourself.

“Y/N…how do you feel about me? Please…tell me…I can’t continue feeling this way. I feel as though I’m going to explode Y/N. My chest…it feels so heavy all the time. I can’t take it anymore. I’m at my wits’ end.”

…

“So tell me… what do you think of this deal…?”

You stare at him, and he stares at you. The look in his eyes, so desperate. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable before. The overblot looks like nothing in comparison to the look he has on his face right now. He looks as though he’s risking it all. That’s because, for him, he really is. 

It’s your turn now. Softly, you run your hand slightly down over his face, slipping away from the grasp of his hands. You run your thumb softly over his beauty mark under his lower left lip, and your pointer finger follows its lead. It’s a gentle touch. The fingers run over it, bordering his lower lip, tracing even, ever so briefly, before you put your hand down to your side. 

“….Okay.”

Azul stares blankly at you.

“…Okay?”

“I accept Azul. I accept your deal. Okay.” You nod subtly, your face feeling hot as you release these words from your throat. Your acceptance of his words. Acceptance of his feelings.

Azul lets out a sharp, shaky breath, as though he’d been holding it for years now. Then, he lets out a chuckle, breaking out into a cheesy smile, laughing, almost like a child.

He places his palm to his forehead in relief, sounding absolutely shocked, “R-really? You do???” 

You let out a small laugh, seeing the way his tense demeanor fades away, and you see Azul for what he really, truly is in this moment: A guy that’s absolutely and utterly devoted…to you. “Yes. I accept your deal Azul. I feel the same way.”

Azul lets out an excited “Ha!!” As he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him. He doesn’t break eye contact, despite only being a few inches away from your face now, as he asks,

“You…you’re not joking right? You’re not toying with me??? You really mean it??”

You nod, a bit more vigorously this time, hoping it’ll really communicate your commitment. Laughing, even more, you respond, “Yes, yes, oh my god yes. Dude…I’ve never seen you this excited before! This is actually kind of insane bro…” 

At this point, Azul couldn’t give two shits about your remark. All he cares about is your reciprocated feelings. It’s mutual. Your feelings are mutual. 

I could die right now.

Holding you close, having pulled you in by one arm after your acceptance, he cups your face in his hands, only for a brief moment, and runs his fingers down your cheeks. “Th-this is wonderful! Splendid even!” He says excitedly. Breaking away from your face, he exclaims “Okay!”. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you roughly over to the other side of his desk, and begins rummaging around in the drawer. 

You peek over his shoulder, trying to see what he’s looking so maniacally for. 

Then he reveals it.

He pulls out a golden scroll, hastily splaying it out onto the table. He forcefully pushes a pen into your hand. 

“J-just sign here!!” He grasps your hand with the pen, and guides it over to the characteristic “x” and line, indicating the need for a signature.

Awww hell nah bruh.

You immediately pull your hand away, nuzzling it into the safety of your chest. “Azul! What the fuck!”

“W-what???!” Azul asks, genuinely surprised and concerned. Oh… does he look like a puppy that was just scolded for the first time.

“Dude!! N-No! I thought the deal and contract thing was…like…a metaphor!!!”

“W-why would it be a metaphor??” Azul cries out. “This, this is a…” Azul thinks back to his conversation with Jade, his words flashing in his mind, “A physical manifestation of my appreciation!” 

Thanks for that Jade..

You look at him, mouth wide open in shock. “Because it’s fucking insane to have the person you confess to sign a contract ensuring they like you back???”

“W-well..! I need to be sure!”

“…” You let out a scoff of disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head.

But then, your face softens, and you let out a chuckle

“...Ha…alright. You know what? Fine.”

You put your hand down to the “x” on the paper, the pen hovering over the line, “but on one condition”, you add in.

Azul freezes. “W-what?”

They want to make a bargain? With me? Who do they think they are? No one proposes contracts to Azul Ashengrotto. I do the proposing.

Huh. Guess some things really do never change. 

“I eat at the Mostro Lounge. For free.”

Azul’s face, previously draped in shock, melts into a soft, almost mocking smile.

“Well…as my partner…wouldn’t that be a given? What an ignorant question.”

“...Ignorant question?” You raise an eyebrow. “Hm. Somehow, the scroll looks…unappealing suddenly. Wouldn’t you agree?” You look up at him, smirking as you pull your hand away from the paper. 

“SMART! SMART QUESTION. SMART QUESTION. INCREDIBLY INTELLIGENT, YOU ARE MY DEAR!”

Azul puts his hands up, waving them frantically towards the paper, indicating for you to sign. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! S-sign the scroll! Please!”

You laugh at Azul, and finally, your pen glides across the paper, and you effortlessly lift your hand from the sheet as the scroll dissipates into the air, leaving gold specks of light in its wake. 

I cannot believe I just signed that fucking scroll. Did I just sell my soul? 

Azul watches the light as it fades, gold specks reflected in his glasses. He turns to look at you, smiling as though he’d just scored the business deal of a lifetime. Because to him, he had. 

“This…this is wonderful! Haha!” He breaks out into giddy laughter, but… is cut off?

He feels…something warm…? On his face…?

Oh. 

Ohhh.

You had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 

Azul stands there. In utter shock. His body tense, he feels as though the wind could knock him over if it felt so inclined. 

You back up. One step. two steps. You smile at him as you grab his hand and wrap it around the pen. 

“Where’d your voice go? Sea witch got your voice?” You say in a teasing tone.

“Y….you…” 

You giggle, “You know. Your hands are incredibly cold. So is your face. They say your lips are most sensitive to temperature. I guess I just wanted to see if that was true. I can now confirm that to, in fact, be the truth!”

You let out a quick laugh, smiling at him as you watch him basically self-destruct before your eyes. You release his hand which now holds the pen, and you turn to that glass bubble on the table that kickstarted this night between you too.

“Thank you again, Azul!” You say, in almost a playful manner, knowing the drastic change in the mood is going to give him emotional whiplash. Not to worry, that was the point. “For the wonderful gift, both uh…physical and verbal?” You say, furrowing your eyebrows and lifting the conch in your hand “I dunno….Anyways!”

Azul remains standing in place, watching you. The rest of his body still frozen, he breaks into an awkward smile, nodding slightly, not once taking his eyes off of you.

You head for the door, shell in hand, pulling the knob and opening it. Before you exit, you add in. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ll head back over here after class. That sound okay to you?”

One last time, Azul nods, this time vigorously, his frozen body now coming back to life as he takes a step towards your figure, his hand slightly extended out to you, as though he doesn’t want you to go, “Y-yes! Yes! That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow…Y/N.” 

And with that, you leave him with a final smile before you walk out of the room, and you shut the door behind you.

Click

And once again, Azul is left to his own devices. 

The tension and stress hitting him like a slap in the face, Azul’s legs give out from underneath him. He collapses to the ground in a heap. How he managed to not do that way earlier, he doesn’t know. He opens his hand and looks down to reveal the pen. The very pen you’d used to sign off your love. To him. 

“I suppose I could give Jade…a bonus…or something. For the help.” Azul mutters to himself, not caring about his monetary loss one bit. 

The pen feels warm in his cold hands, remnants of you lying in his palm.

Your heart for mine. Not a bad trade. 

��

Perhaps I should begin drafting up a marriage contract? 

~~~

THE END 😝😝

I love you Azul Ashengrotto I’ve been hyperfixated on you for three yearsl they could never make me hate you bbg gets on all fours and starts meowing rubs my face against your leg like an overly affectionate cat searching for your attention id do anything for you azul.

fyi this fic is basically a self-insert of myself and azul i literally just pulled a find and replace all at the end to generalize it i love azul sm i love him.

[chvoswxtch]

court my luv. i’m trying to think of something, anything but all i can think that my goddess Dinah is looking at me with those beautiful brown eyes and my mind is just blank…(also i am the most non-creative person in the world)

so yeah, i’m just saying ✨Dinah Madani✨ and leaving the rest to you, darlin 💘💘

you had me at dinah

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and know it was a struggle to not make this thirty pages 🙃

happy pride my love!!! 🏳️‍🌈 🖤

warning: dinah madani's fine ass, swearing, mentions of alcohol, allusions to spiciness word count: 1k

stood up.

The hallways of the Homeland Security headquarters were silent as you walked through them. It was late on a Thursday, already half past nine, and almost everyone had gone home hours ago except for the security guards at the front desk in the lobby. Everyone except your girlfriend, Dinah. 

It was the third time this month that she’d stood you up for your dinner plans. You knew when you first met her how dedicated she was to her job, and while you admired her passion and tenacity, it also frustrated the hell out of you sometimes, especially when you’d spent over an hour getting ready. You hadn’t shaved for nothing. But, instead of starting a fight over it, you decided to compromise. 

As you walked down the hallway from the elevators, you caught a clear view of a familiar head of dark brown curls. Dinah was hunched over her desk, her perfectly shaped dark brows pinched in pure concentration. She was so focused she didn’t even hear you approach. Standing in the doorway of her office, you took a moment just to take her in. She’d abandoned her blazer over the back of her chair most likely hours ago, leaving her in a sleeveless black blouse with a v-cut neckline, giving you a tantalizing view of her gorgeous skin, the gold pendant necklace she always wore dangling around her neck. It often annoyed you how effortlessly good she always looked.

Deciding to finally announce your presence, you lightly knocked on her open door, and Dinah’s head shot right up. Her laser focus melted into pure surprise, but there were a few hints of confusion etched onto her features.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“You missed dinner.”

Shooting you a puzzled look, her attention shifted to her phone lingering on her desk, and as she reached for it, Dinah clicked the side button and the screen lit up showcasing the time. She muttered a ‘shit’ under her breath, also noticing a few mixed calls and texts from you. Glancing up at you with guilt shining in her espresso tinted eyes, her face fell in pure remorse.

“Baby, I’m sorry-”

“Can you put those away?”

Dinah’s dark brows furrowed slightly in perplexity as she slightly tilted her head to the side. You motioned towards the grisly crime scene photos spread across her desk with your index finger before reaching into the tote bag you were carrying to pull out a large bag of takeout you’d brought.

“Murder kind of ruins my appetite.”

Dinah’s expression shifted to one of barely concealed bewilderment when you set the takeout bag down on the edge of her desk. Her eyes shifted between the large brown paper bag and your face, staring at you silently for a moment before a faint playful smile stretched over her lips. Leaning back in her chair, she looked up at you and lifted one of her perfectly arched brows.

“I stood you up, and you brought me dinner?”

There was a hint of amusement in her alluring voice, but also an undertone of lingering guilt. Shaking your head, you pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses, setting them next to the takeout bag before reaching into the tote again to retrieve a candle.

“Can’t stand me up if I’m bringing the date to you. Murder, away.”

Dinah let out a genuine laugh when you made a shooing motion with your hand towards the crime scene photos on her desk. Shifting them into a single pile, she collected them and slipped them into a file, tucking it into a drawer on the left side of her desk. She gazed up at you adoringly as you turned her desk into a makeshift dinner table, taking the food dishes out of the bag and spreading them out, uncorking the wine bottle to pour each of you a generous glass, and lighting the candle you’d brought and placed in the middle of her desk. 

She reached for your arm and pulled you down to sit sideways on her lap, wrapping her arms around your waist while she leaned in to press a soft kiss to your neck, whispering into your ear.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

Tilting your head to the side a little to grant her more access to your sensitive skin, a faint smirk curled at the edge of your mouth.

“Oh don’t think I’m not making you earn your forgiveness later.”

You could feel Dinah grinning against your skin, nuzzling her nose along the underside of your jaw, one of her hands inching up your thigh towards the hem of your skirt.

“Why don’t you let me earn it now? I’m in the mood for dessert.”

Reaching down, you grabbed her wrist and halted her hand’s path, turning to look at her with an arched brow.

“Because dinner was at seven, and it’s now nine-thirty. You have about twenty minutes before I become a complete nightmare.”

Dinah let out a loud laugh at that, faintly shaking her head as she reached for one of the wine glasses and handed it to you.

“Alright baby girl, let’s get you fed. I’ll spread you out on my desk after.”

You nearly choked on your wine as your eyes widened, struggling to swallow before laughing.

“Dinah!”

“What?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Di, your office is see-through.”

Dinah glanced between you and the glass windows of her office, taking a large sip of her wine before casually shrugging her shoulders and looking at you again.

“So?”

“Di-”

“No one’s here.”

“There are security guards-”

“In the lobby, downstairs.”

“And if someone decides to show up to get some late night work done?”

You gestured towards the elevators at the opposite end of the hallway that Dinah’s office had a straight and clear view of. She stared through the windows of her office towards the elevators, pursing her lips with a faint shrug of her shoulders.

“Then they’ll find out how much I love my girlfriend’s pussy.”

tags: @cheshirecat484 @viennangel @ameliaswife

[novamariestark]

Slip of the Tongue - Alden Parker

Summary: You accidentally call Alden his pet name in front of the team

Warnings: None, except maybe, use of a pet name

Word count: 1681

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Alden Parker x reader

[A/N] I've been working on this for weeks and it didn't really end up as well as I pictured it in my head but I am happy that my lazyass brain let me write something.

You hadn’t meant to say it. It was an accident. Just a slip of the tongue. You knew for sure that Nick was never going to let you live this down.

You and Alden have been together for about six months and for the sake of your professional relationship, you kept it secret. At least you did. It didn’t take an investigator to figure it out.

You all hadn’t long come back from a crime scene and whilst you were there, you spotted someone suspicious. His body language set him apart from all the other onlookers. That’s when Gibbs’ voice popped into your mind.

Rule 35: Always watch the watchers.

You were the team’s profiler and one of the best. Many agents came by and asked for your thoughts on possible motives or to observe an interrogation. Your journey into psychology and profiling began when you were just 15 years old. When you met Ducky. At that time, he was in the middle of his pursuit of his master’s degree in psychology. The world of the human mind had held a certain mystique that had captivated you from the start, just as much as Ducky's stories did.

When Ducky decided to retire as ME, he personally chose you and Jimmy as his successors. You initially apprehensive about taking that role given the size of the shoes you had to fill but Ducky believed that you were both more than capable to do the job. As it turned out, he was right. As usual.

When you got back to your desk, you immediately started to investigate the onlooker you had seen. You started to run him through facial recognition hoping to find something. Whilst you were waiting for a hit, you looked through the crime scene photos, looking for something you may have missed when you took the photo.

A little over an hour later, your computer beeped, and like meerkats, the team all looked up from their tasks.

“Ooh, sounds like [Y/N] has something,”

You shook your head, you hadn’t found anything, just the name of the onlooker, “No, it’s just an e-mail, ignore it,”

The team exchanged glances but didn’t push any further. You turned your attention to your “e-mail” and began scouring databases, cross-referencing information, and followed his digital trails, determined to find out if he had anything to do with it.

Soon you find out that he’s got a lengthy list of offences, violent ones, “McGee?” you spoke up, shifting in your seat to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asked looking away from his screen giving you his full attention.

“Have you looked into the wife yet?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

McGee couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't tell me you're following Tony's logic," he teased, referring to their former colleague's penchant for the saying, "It's always the spouse."

You joined in the laughter, shaking your head. "No, just wondering. I mean, I could if you're busy,"

McGee scrunched his eyebrows at you, “Okay, what are you working on over there?” he asked getting increasingly curious.

You glanced around the room and noticed that the entire team had turned their attention to you. You sighed and then looked back at Tim. "Rule 35," you said simply.

“Really? Someone set off your spidey sense?” he asked, you nodded in response.

“Care to share?” Alden asked, “What’s rule 35?”

You chewed your lip, would he be annoyed you kept this to yourself? You opened your mouth to answer but McGee beat you to it.

“Uh, Gibbs’ rule 35. Always watch the watchers,” he explained.

“I uh, saw a man in the crowd of onlookers. His body language was different than everyone else,” you explained further, “It was just a hunch, if it led anywhere, I would tell you guys,”

“And did it?” Alden asked, standing up from his desk and walking over to yours. You looked up at him. Sometimes you wondered how you managed to concentrate at all with how damn sexy he was. All. The. Time. But you did.

“Um, the guy I saw has a restraining order against him by a Naomi Fisher,” you shrugged, “I know that’s the first name of the victim’s wife and…” you stopped when you saw a look on his face, one you couldn’t decipher. Not that you’d tell Nick that, “I’m sorry, I just thought that it was suspicious, I should have told you,” you looked down at your hands on the desk, at the keyboard, anywhere away from his eyes. Beside you, you could hear the clacking of McGee’s keyboard.

“Naomi Wilkes’ maiden name is Fisher,” he spoke up with a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” Torres groaned playfully from the other side of you, “How am I supposed to kiss ass if you’re always using your superpowers?”

Alden smiled at you, “Good job,” he said before turning to walk away.

“Thanks, daddy,” you said, immediately clasping your hands over your mouth. Alden stops dead in his tracks.

The office fell into a stunned silence, and the team's jaws dropped making it clear that they had caught your slip up. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized what you had just said. Oh shit. Why did you say that? Because he praised you? Was that your weakness?

What the hell, of course it is. You were surprised you lasted this long.

You quickly looked at Alden, "I'm sorry, Alden,"

He gave you a subtle, reassuring smile, “It’s alright, [Y/N]”

Jess exchanged a knowing glance with Tim, who wore a subtle grin and Nick was trying and failing to suppress his laugh.

“Okay, stay focused still got a case to solve. Everyone back to what they were doing,” Alden said returning to his desk, “[Y/N], create a profile on your onlooker,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back, “Sure,”

***

You delved into both his and Naomi’s background, their relationship going as far back as pre teen years. They dated, he got multiple arrests and she filed a restraining order against him 5 years ago after he almost killed her little brother. He is currently out on parole. You found the number of his officer and rang them up. After the call you find that he’s missed his appointment with his parole officer and can’t be found. You decided to call metro and ask if they could place some officers outside Naomi Wilkes house just in case he returned.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said standing up, you faintly hear Nick mumble ‘this’ll be good,’ he enjoyed watching you analyse things, as did everyone else. Especially Alden, he found it completely sexy.

“His name is Jon Milton. He was recently released from prison on parole however his parole officer doesn’t know where he is. Anyway, he has an obsessive fixation on Naomi. He is unable to accept the end of their relationship. This is a possible motive for the murder of Craig Wilkes, likely an attempt to regain control over her and may even be punishment for her moving on. He’s narcissistic, he believes he is entitled to her affection, her love, her loyalty. He sees her choices as a direct threat to his self-esteem and he reacts with anger and violence to reassert his dominance. He has a violent history which indicates that he has often resorted to aggression as a means of gaining control. He’s delusional. He’s convinced himself that killing Naomi’s husband was the only way to regain her affections. He also exhibits psychopathic traits. He’s lacking empathy or remorse for his actions. His return to the crime scene to watch Naomi grieve her husband's death demonstrates sadistic tendencies. He derives pleasure from her pain and relishes in his own cruel actions,” you finished your presentation of your findings and looked to everyone.

“I believe he did it,” you added, nodding your head to his picture on the screen, “I also believe he will continue to harm those near her. I called Metro and asked them to have officers posted outside her house,”

As the team mobilized to verify your hunch about the onlooker being the murderer, your investigation took a turn. McGee began combing through stolen car reports, cross-referencing them with camera footage from the victim's neighborhood. Soon, on one of the cameras, he spotted the stolen car, parked on the same street as the victim's residence.

Meanwhile, Kasie, the team's forensic expert, was hard at work analyzing evidence from the crime scene. She finally came across all the prints you pulled from the porch banister. Kasie ran it through the database. It matched the onlooker's known prints. This was another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

As you all pieced together these findings, your phone rang. Your BOLO alert had come back. The onlooker had just been spotted a few streets away from his ex's house. You thanked the man and immediately called the officers that were sat outside her house to warn them and let them know they were on their way.

“He’s just been spotted a few streets away from the Wilkes’ house,”

“Alright let’s move,” Alden said as he started gearing up.

***

Later that night, after you all got back after arresting Milton, you were all back in the bullpen. McGee was getting ready to leave. So were Jess and Nick, but they all noticed that you and Alden weren’t moving.

“So, uh,” Torres spoke up, “Was he playing with his plants or…”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you laughed at him.

“Yeah, please don’t,” McGee begged.

“Okay, okay,” he said walking away, towards the elevator, “Don’t stay up too late!” he called over before the doors shut.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, you knew he wanted to keep it a secret. Well not so much a secret, just he preferred to keep your professional relationship and your personal relationship separate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alden reassured you again, “At least you don’t have to come up with all these different lies anymore. When Torres asks you to hang out you can just say you’d rather hang out with me,”

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?

"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.

He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.

His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.

He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...

"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.

The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...

"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard.  I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 3): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: when things are uncovered, can you handle the truth? Or are you doomed to make a mistake you can't rectify?

wc: 2.1k

tw: violence

masterlist

song recommendation:

Ran's past was a lie.

When you met him at the country club five years ago, your pasts had been explained in hushed tones and excited flurries of memories; sharing photos of the time before he was an executive of the communications company he worked in and the time before you were a journalist.

Ran said he had gone to jail twice, both for crimes he had been an accessory to as a delinquent kid, but that he'd cleaned up his act after and made his way up the corporate ladder. Nothing about gangs or being a Heavenly King in Tenjiku made it past his lips.

You had been honest, too. Your tales included the time you'd accidentally happened upon a massive gang fight, and that's how your investigative journalism skills began to bloom.

Who was fighting?

What were they going to do after?

Where did these gangs come from?

When did this argument start?

Why were they fighting?

How did gangs form in the first place?

Those were all the questions you sought out answers for that night and the next five years after, devoting your time and effort to finding the truth about everything.

"Babe?" You freeze, hands hovering over the keys at the sound of Ran's voice. You don't turn around - you can't even look at him the same these days - but he fixes that by walking over to you and turning you around in your chair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Just doing some writing." His violet eyes search yours for the truth, but you know he won't be able to find it. Not while you're still trying to unravel his past. Ran kisses your eyelids sweetly, cupping your face in his large palms and littering his love across your face as you try your best to remain still and not confess about your research.

"Come to bed. It's late."

"I've got a few more paragraphs," you explain, motioning to the small print on your screen. "I'll be in bed soon."

But your lie is discovered shortly thereafter. It's five a.m. when Ran returns, seeing you slumped against your desk, arms cushioning your head, laptop screen blank. Instinctively, Ran pulls you out of your seat - making your notebook fall to the ground - grunting softly as he scoops you up into his arms and cradles you against his chest.

You willingly allow your husband to carry you to bed, where your two-year-old is also nestled among the sheets and pillows, thumb tucked into his mouth. And for a moment, Ran appreciates the view, seeing the two people he loved the most - besides his younger brother - laying in the bed he paid for, in the house he built, in the city he owns.

But then he remembers the slight disarray you left your things in at the desk and returns, picking up your pencil and notebook before laying them beside the laptop. Then his eyes catch "Ran's past?" written in bold, red letters, along with the words: "Tenjiku" and "Tandai" also written in the web of other words surrounding his name. "South Terano" is also on that web.

He'd have to take care of that in the morning.

And for the first time in a long time, worry bubbles to the surface of his mind, and Ran rips the sheet of paper from your notebook, tossing it into the kitchen trashcan and considering his deed done. He concealed his past to protect his family. And he's concealing the present to achieve the same goal; all for the future to be revealed later. That's how everything should be.

Right? _____________________________________________________________

"Ran," you whisper, lips running across his knuckles. His fingers cup your jaw, and his own lips press against your forehead, violet eyes darkening slightly. "It's six am. Where are you going this early?"

"I have to go into the office for a little while," he murmurs, kissing your forehead again. "I'll be back around lunchtime." Thoughts of Tandai and Tenjiku flash into your mind for a moment, but you smile at him sleepily anyway, absolutely sure these things are part of his past and not in the present.

"We'll be waiting for you, my love."

Despite all of your best intentions, though, you can't help but be consumed by the idea of Ran out, fighting, stealing, maiming... You consider asking him about these things, these concerns, but you decide against it as you're helping Kai with his lunch. If he wanted to leave it in the past, there's a good reason for it. He would have told you if it would be a problem later. Right?

Ran wouldn't jeopardize your family, your home, your life for something so... juvenile.

Right?

The clatter of keys on the counter in the living room brings you back to the present, and you perk up, your two-year-old mimicking your expression.

"Daddy!" Kai slides down from his seat and runs to greet Ran, clutching his father's legs with all his little might.

"Hey, buddy," Ran laughs, stooping to pick up his son with excitement. "How are you doing?" As son and father have a very stimulating conversation about playtime, you watch them in wonder, observing the way Ran makes his child a priority, just like he makes you a priority. But your countenance falls as soon as you see the blood spot on the bottom of Ran's lavender suit jacket. You know its blood because of the way it dried - that's no ketchup stain.

You fake a smile anyway, giving Ran a kiss on the cheek and tugging his jacket off after he sits Kai back on the tile floor.

"Hard day?"

"Kind of," Ran mumbles, and you catch the sight of a long scratch down the side of his neck. "But I made it through." You hum, taking the pin-striped jacket to the laundry room and slinging it over the side of the washer. You'd need that later.

"Need to relax?" you wonder, and Ran grins at you mischievously.

"Maybe later, after bedtime?"

_____________________________________________________________

But "later" never came.

Instead, Ran and Kai fell asleep on the sofa, watching a kid's movie, and you retreated to the office, powering up your laptop and pulling your notebook closer.

You immediately notice something's wrong, as the notes you had before were missing. Everything is gone. Not even a word of all the research you had done was there. Hadn't you written meticulous notes and names and things about Ran's past that could be interconnected? You break out in a sweat and search in every drawer of the desk, every place it could possibly be. You come up with nothing, and let out a frustrated sigh before slumping down in your seat and pulling up the computer history from yesterday. If you had to rewrite every single thing, that's fine. You'd just need more time to gather your evidence for the meeting on Saturday.

You're knee-deep in articles and police reports when you stumble across a more recent - actually as recent as this morning - article titled: "Ex-gangster found dead in meat factory". The picture of South Terano startles you, and you click on it, feeling a sense of dread as the article details how he was found hanging upside-down in the warehouse with a bullet hole in his head. And just like that, your newest lead has fizzled out. You groan, writing down "South Terano, deceased" on your notepad, then exiting the tab.

There had to be someone else you could ask. Shuji Hanma only provided you with Ran and Rindou's names, no one else.

"What's this?"

The door to the office shuts softly, and you look over your shoulder at Ran, who is walking toward you with measured steps, his eyes taking in your exhausted expression and the way you're hunched over that notepad. Again.

"What are you doing? You look tired, babe. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Suddenly, pieces begin to click as Ran leans his hip against the desk, staring down at you in the chair with squinted violet eyes. "You threw away my notes... Didn't you?"

"What are you doing in my business, y/n?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in two gangs?" you counter, fingers shaking slightly. "Ran, this is something I needed to know before--"

"You wouldn't have married me if I told you." Ran's tone is cold, almost as if he's turned into the past version of himself without batting an eye.

"You don't know that." Ran leans forward, coming to eye level with you a smirking.

"I know you. And that's all I need." Ran reaches out a hand to close the laptop, still smiling and maintaining eye contact. "Now here's what you're going to do. First, you're going to stop digging into my past. There's nothing there that you need to find. Second, you're going to come to bed. It's late, you're tired. Finally," Ran cups your chin like he did this morning, except his fingers aren't so tender this time. "You're going to cut off contact with both Shuji Hanma and Taiju Shiba. I'm not really fond of either of them, and I'm not a fan of having them tell my business to my wife."

"They were only doing it because I asked."

"Taiju, maybe. Shuji isn't so eager to fuck you. I doubt he did it out of the kindness of his heart." You can't say anything to refute his claims. Ran is probably right. But you can't get one question out of your mind.

"Why are you trying to hide your past? What's there that I won't like?"

"What isn't there is the real question."

"What can you tell me about the gang that's just surfaced in Tokyo?" Ran's face slackens, transforming into a half-surprised, half-blank look that you realize is one that means he's been caught. "Oh, my fucking god," you breathe, tears stinging your eyes. "South, the fish, the murders, the crime... It's you. It's been you this whole time. I've been chasing my own husband down." Panic begins to set in, and your mind whirls around as you shake in your seat, bringing your hands up to your head. "Just tell me Rindou isn't in this," you breathe, but Ran doesn't answer you, still wearing that dumb look on his face. You let out a cry of shock, covering your mouth and trying to back away from Ran as much as you can.

The source is a lot closer than you think.

You slide down the wall, shocked into stillness as your sobs quiet, and Ran straightens up, placing his hands in his sweatpant pockets. The long nights, the early mornings, the bloodstains, the damn suits... It all led to this. Ran had never really left his old lifestyle behind. He'd gotten caught up in it, and brought you and Kai into it unknowingly.

"I never meant for it to get this... unhinged." You can't reply, tucking your knees into your chest as you stare past Ran and at the opposite wall, wondering how you'd missed the signs, the obvious signs that Ran was up to no good. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we can--"

"I can't stay here."

The words fall from your mouth and Ran flinches, shaking his head.

"No. You can't leave."

"Yes, I can," you mumble, standing and wiping your tears. "I can do whatever I need to do to keep Kai safe, and--"

"Kai is safer here than out there," Ran snaps, pointing at the window. "I'm not letting my son out of my sight. Your snooping has caused enough trouble as it is; I wouldn't have had to go and clean up this morning if you hadn't--"

"Don't blame this on me," you retort, pointing at Ran accusatorially. "You're the one who joined a gang and is still in one! What kind of role model are you for our son now?"

"I provide the best way I can," Ran grits out, clenching his fists. "You've never gone hungry, cold, or ill-clothed a day in your life while you were with me."

"I would rather die than enjoy a life paid for with blood money."

"Blood money? You really think--" You try to push past Ran, but he grabs your shoulders, yanking you back in front of him. "You're not going anywhere except to our bed."

"Let me go, Ran Haitani," you mutter, hands balling up into little fists. "Or I'll scream."

"Who will hear you? Kai?"

How had you been so foolish? Ran's lips press together momentarily as his violet eyes run over your figure, taking stock of all your five-foot-six stature. You're no match for Ran. Not mentally, and certainly not physically. Ran notices your defeat and his hands slide down to your wrists, tugging your delicate hands up to his chest.

"Everything will be fine," he whispers, drawing you close. "I'm taking care of us. Just trust me."

Just trust me.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Nine

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, fluff, me pretending that I know literally anything about art history or art forgery— again. Summary: You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. 

You offered to help Marcus with the wedding errands that needed to be done, but he could see how distracted you were by the print-outs he’d been able to get of the x-rays and craquelure of Leda and the Swan. He shook his head, nodding to where you’d already set up shop at his desk. “Don’t worry about wedding stuff today,” He reassured, smiling. Then he tipped your head up for a quick peck and left.

You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. You looked for comparisons between the x-rays of the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci’s sketches of Leda, and the other reproductions that you were more familiar with. Jill actually had to come up and draw you out of the room by taking Marcus’ laptop charging cord hostage. 

When Marcus returned that evening, he found you folding programs with laser focus. 

“Having fun?” He teased, settling down beside you on the floor. You were leaning back against the couch, as you had when you and Marcus had been putting the favors together. 

“Mhm,” You hummed lightly, peering down at the program and lining up the corners of the paper before smoothing down the middle. Marcus picked up an unfolded program, beginning to fold them as you did. 

“How were um-- Errands, how’d they… You know?” You asked absently. “They were fine. Tuxes have been acquired, venue’s got the final headcount, seating chart and favors, photographer’s got the shot list.” “Has Marnie called the hotel they’re staying at and found out if there was an upgrade available?” You glanced at Marcus, “Might be able to get something if she mentions it’s her wedding weekend.” Marcus’ brows rose. “I don’t think she has, but I’ll find out.” “Should probably check in with wherever the rehearsal dinner is being held, too,” You added, turning back to the programs. “I’ll keep that in mind...Are you okay?” Marcus asked as you dropped another folded program atop the pile. “Mhm.” “Hey,” Marcus reached out, setting his hand on your arm. You glanced over at him. “S’wrong?” “You seem a little tense,” He scooched closer, thigh pressing against yours, “I can take over program folding,” He added. “She’s mad at me,” Jill called from the kitchen. “I am not mad!” You called back. “What happened?” Marcus frowned, glancing between the two of you. Jill came into the living room, leaning over the back of the couch and peering down at the two of you. “I made her come out from hunching over those photos that you printed out this morning,” She told Marcus as you pointedly folded another program. Busted. “How long were you in there?” Marcus asked, rubbing his hand over the back of your neck gently. “Since you left. I only got the damn cord away from her half an hour ago,” Jill answered, pushing off of the couch, “Speakin’a which, you hungry, Marky?” You snickered, muttering, “Marky.” “No thanks, mom.” “What about you, honey?” “No thank you, Jill,” You glanced back, offering her a smile before dropping another program atop the pile. Marcus watched her go before he leaned a little closer. “Were you able to work anything out?” He asked, picking up another page. “Nothing substantive,” You grumbled, folding the page and setting it aside. Marcus set his on the pile before he drew you into his chest. You pouted a little, slouching against him as you reached for the next page. “You know I’ve got the team working on this, too, right? And the team working out of the Louvre.” “I know,” You mumbled. “So relax,” Marcus murmured, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m incredibly relaxed. I’m also very focused on folding these programs.” “Sweetheart, programs do not need to be that perfect.” 

“Agree to disagree.” You felt Marcus’ fingers tuck under your chin and turn your head to look at him. You paused in your folding, blinking up at him. “You sure you’re alright?” He asked gently. You were not— but what was one more lie in this house? “Yeah,” You murmured before you leaned up, taking a chance and pecking Marcus’ lips. You felt him smile as he cupped your cheek, keeping you close as he deepened the kiss. You sighed, relaxing a little more and resting a hand on his thigh. As the kiss broke, you rested your head against his neck, closing your eyes as Marcus rubbed his hand over your shoulder. “...Feel better?” He asked quietly. “I think so.” “I can do that anytime,” He added after a moment, and you smiled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

-- “You still doing that?” Marcus asked. “Hm?” You glanced back at him, catching sight of him in his pajamas. Jill had relinquished the laptop cord shortly after dinner, and Marcus had freed you of program-folding duty. “What...Time is it?” You asked, frowning. “It’s a little after midnight,” Marcus walked over to stand behind you, bracing his hands on the back of your chair and looking over your work, “You comin’ to bed?” You knew that you should— it had been a long day (after Jill had finally ceded the charging cord), and you were a bit tired. “Uh… N--No, not yet—” “C’mon,” Marcus murmured, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “You need to get some sleep.” “I know, I’m gonna, I just— I think I’m really close to something here,” You admitted, looking up at Marcus, “I wanna chase it down. I’ll take it into the living room so the light doesn’t keep you up,” You added, starting to gather up some of the materials. “If you’re sure,” Marcus conceded softly, “But get some sleep, huh?” “I will.” “Promise?” You glanced up at Marcus, smiling. “Promise.” He nodded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading to bed. 

-- 

You leaned away from the markups on the coffee table, dropping your marker with a shaky hand. 

You’d made a call to where she’d been sent, and found out she had had her sentence shortened. She’d been out for nearly three years— she’d missed parole; there was a warrant out for her arrest. You hadn’t wanted to believe it was her work, you hadn’t, but you’d found the messages she always left. One was in the x-rayed under layers of the wreath of flowers around the swan’s neck: ‘Dominus ad ludere’. And then, another x-rayed layer, within one of the grey layers of the painting, near the darkened fold of the swan’s wing: ‘Ad opus domini’. The master at play, the master at work.  The lettering was small, difficult to spot, but you knew that handwriting, and you knew exactly where to look. You couldn’t help the sick, twisting feeling in your stomach as you picked up your phone. You grabbed your notebook where you’d jotted down your notes on the sketches and brushstrokes, the notes that she’d left behind, and you hurried out to the porch. You sat on the porch swing, peering out into the dark and settling your notebook on your lap. You tucked the phone against your ear, listening as it rang. “Special Agent Melinda Yuen,” Came the answer when the phone was picked up. You were fond of Marcus’ colleague; aside from Marcus, she was who you’d worked the closest with. “Hi, Mel, it’s me,” You said quietly, glancing toward the door. “Hey, professor! How ya been?” “Fine,” You smiled a little at her question, “You?” “I’m alright. If you’re calling looking for Marcus—” “No, I… I wanted to talk to you. Marcus sent me some of the stuff from that da Vinci picked up in Orléans. I took a look at it, it’s definitely not authentic.” “You got notes?” “You have a pen? I’m going to tell you exactly where to look.” You listed off the points and layers that you were able to identify, as well as the suspect for her to look into. Melinda went quiet on the other end for a moment. “Professor, isn’t that your grandm—” “Yes,” You answered hurriedly, “It is.” “...Shit.” “My feelings exactly— Look, Mel, I’ve gotta ask you a favor.” “Sure.” “Don’t...Don’t tell Marcus who called this in until he’s back in D.C.” “Why not?” “Just, please?” You pleaded softly, glancing toward the door. “...I don’t know, professor—” “I’m not asking you to keep it from him forever, just-- Couple’a days.”

“Alright,” Melinda sighed softly, before, “How do you know when he’ll be back, anyway?” “Oh, he uh— mentioned he was going to his sister’s wedding. I don’t wanna ruin his weekend, you know. Figured if I got you on the first ring on this number he must be down there, ‘specially with this big of a case in the office,” You fibbed quickly. “You figure correctly,” Melinda chuckled, “I’ll get these notes over to the team. Night, professor.” “Night, Mel, and thanks.” “Hey, thank you.” You lowered your phone, hanging it up and peering out over the backyard again. You sighed softly, pushing the swing back and forth with one foot. “Can’t sleep?” You jumped at the sound of the question, huffing a shaky laugh at the sight of Marnie. “No,” You confirmed, “What about you?” “Nope,” Marnie sighed, walking over to sit beside you, “I was working on my vows.” “Big speech-writing day in the Pike household,” You teased. “That Marcus’?” Marnie nodded to your notebook. “O-Oh! No. Some uh… Stuff on that painting. Inconsistencies, little things,” You set the notebook down between the two of them, giving Marnie the option to pick it up. She left it be, giving you a little bit of relief in what had been a mostly hellish day. “Think it’s serious?” You shrugged, “Could be inconsequential.” You were already lying to Marnie so much, what was one more? Though, frankly, it made you feel a little crummy. You were growing very fond of Marcus’ family. They were warm, and welcoming. You’d always imagined having a family like them. “You and Marcus seem good, you know?” Marnie said, nudging your shoulder with hers, “I mean...Happy.” You smiled, lowering your eyes. “Your brother is... amazing. All of you are, I mean— I don’t know any family that would open their home to someone they don’t know for a night, let alone an entire week. And your mom— the way she pulled me out of Marcus’ room earlier,” The two of you chuckled, “Well. I’ve appreciated everything since I’ve been here, how kind you all have been.” “Oh,” Marnie reached out, patting your hand lightly, “We’re happy to. ‘Sides, Marcus is clearly smitten with you.” Your stomach churned with unease as you peered down at your hands. Marcus was a better actor than he gave himself credit for. You knew you’d make a liar out of him. “Makes two of us,” You mumbled. Damn, but that was the truth. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo  ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax​ ; @drinkingwhileblogging​ ; @strawberryperegrine​ ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.2

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: Stalking, cussing, kidnapping

Lucifer briefly looked up from his desk, the giant stack of paper work towering high next to him.

“Ah, Mammon. To what do I owe the pleasure of your abrupt company?”

Mammon walked straight to the front of Lucifer’s desk, wasting no time, he got right to the point.

“I need to go to the human world.”

“Absolutely not.” Lucifer replied, without looking up from his work.

“Why not?”

“You know as well as I do that you cannot be trusted to go there by yourself.”

“Then come with me.” Mammon offered.

Lucifer glanced at his brother.

“I cannot. As you can see,” he gestured to the large stack of papers, “I am very busy. Besides, what business do you have in the human world?” He inquired.

Mammon put his hands in his pockets, and looked away from Lucifer nervously. He knew he wasn’t going to like his answer.

“I need to check on MC.” He confessed sheepishly.

Lucifer sighed, and put his pen down. Leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mammon, you know the rules. MC is a human. Human lives are much shorter than ours. Taking up too much of MC’s time can be damaging.” He explained.

“I know, Lucifer. But, just listen- ” 

“No, Mammon. You listen.” Lucifer began. His hands were flat on his desk as he stood from his chair, giving his brother a stern look.

“I would like to see MC as well. We all would. However, unless Lord Diavolo says otherwise, we are not to interfere with MC’s life, aside from calling and texting. It may not seem fair, but it is what’s best for MC.”

A lump was building in Mammon’s throat. Why wouldn’t he just listen to him? MC could be in danger. He didn’t really have proof though, just a hunch...but still. He didn’t care about some dumb rule. He just needed to see for himself that you were okay, then he’d come home.

But, if you really were in danger..

He didn’t want to even consider something happening to you. Just the thought of it alone could all but crush him.

Mammon huffed and shook his head. “Ya know, there isn’t anythin’ MC wouldn’t do for any of us. Why are ya worried about interfering now? How many times did ya try to kill MC, huh? And what about Belphie?”

Lucifer was in shock. Mammon never talks to him in such a way. But before he could question his brother’s sudden bravery, Mammon stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Mammon wasn't without options. Lucifer's help was preferred, but not needed. He was going to the human world, to you, no matter the cost.

After leaving Lucifer's office, Mammon went straight to his room, looking for anything he could use as a trade or payment but couldn't find anything she would want. He would just have to make another deal.. He would worry about the repercussions of that decision later.

He pulled out his wallet and dug out the picture he secretly kept stashed away. He took it when you all went on a retreat to the Demon Lord's castle and got to tour the royal gardens. You were the most mesmerizing thing in that garden. The way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled. You talked non stop about how beautiful all the flowers were, but they all paled in comparison to you.

A small smile spread across his lips before tucking the photo safely back in it's place.

His smile was quickly replaced with a groan when he realized the next step of this little adventure was going to be less than fun.

If there was one thing Mammon hated (and was terrified of), it was witches. Especially the scary ones. And this one was indeed scary, but she was also the only witch left that would still make deals with the Avatar of Greed.

-

"I guess this is the right place?" He asked himself quietly, standing on the sidewalk in front of a quaint little house.

The witch had indeed agreed to make the deal and send him to the human world on the condition that he would retrieve a rare item for her, as she was currently stuck at her creepy cottage that was nestled deeply in the Dark Forest and could not leave.

'Bring me the heart of a mammal, not of our world, that thrives on malice and sadism. If you cannot fulfill your end of the deal, I will place a curse on you until the ends of eternity that will make everything of value you come in contact with turn to ash.'

He shuddered at what she had said. He wasn't sure how he'd find something like that, but decided to worry about it later.

‘When you are ready to return, go to the spot I told you about and say the incantation. The portal will open and bring you back here. I expect to receive the heart upon your return.’ 

He climbed the steps leading onto the porch and approached the front door. He knocked a few times before taking a step back, rocking back and forth on his heels while he waited.

No answer.

Maybe MC ain't home.. He thought.

Just as he was about to knock again, he noticed the curtain in the window pull to the side, followed immediately by what sounded like several locks being unlocked. The door flung open, revealing the occupant of the house. But, there’s no way it could be you. ..Right?

But it was you.

Deep purple bags sat underneath eyes that no longer sparkled. Your cheeks were sunken in a little and your face had no color. It looked as if you hadn't slept in days. You looked from side to side several times, like you were paranoid about being in the open.

Mammon was frozen in place, a lump forming in his throat.

"MC...?" He asked quietly.

Tears quickly filled your eyes, falling in fat drops. You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his middle and burying your face into his chest where you began to sob loudly.

Without missing a beat, he scooped you up bridal style and took you back inside the house. He kicked the door shut, taking note of the five locks on the door, and made his way over to the couch.

Why so many locks? This don't look like a bad neighborhood..

He laid down, gently pulling you on top of him as sobs continued to wrack through you. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to help calm you down. He took in the state of his surroundings.

From his spot on the couch he could see the back door, which also had several locks on it. The windows behind the couch had pieces of wood shoved in them to prevent them from being opened. A blinking light on the bookshelf caught his eye. It was one of those live feed security cameras.

What the fuck is goin' on?

By now you had calmed down enough to try and sit up. Mammon moved you off of him and sat you down on the couch, giving you a concerned look.

"I'm sorry," you began, wiping your tears away with your sleeve, trying to stifle a hiccup, "I didn't expect to see you and I kinda got overwhelmed."

He paused for a moment, looking at everything he had noticed that was off about the room.

"MC...is everythin' ok?" He asked.

He saw something flash across your face, before you hid it away, replacing it with a fake half smile.

"Huh? Yeah, of course. I missed you. You know I'm a cry baby."

He scooted a little closer, leaning down slightly to look you in the eye. His face was more serious that you'd ever seen it.

"No, MC. Somethin' weird is going on that you're not tellin' me." He said, gesturing with his hands at the room around him.

The fake “I’m okay” face you plastered on had fallen. You sighed heavily and got up from the couch, gesturing for Mammon to stay where he was.

You went down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms. You returned a couple minutes later with a box about twice the size of a shoe box.

You sat the box on the coffee table in front of the couch and handed him a piece of paper and what looked to be a newspaper clipping. You returned to where you had been sitting and gestured at the box, tears filling your eyes once again.

“This is why I’ve been so distant from everyone. And why all of this-” you gestured at the room and yourself, “looks the way that it does.” You wiped away a tear that had fallen. “Start with the letter I handed you, then the box.” You instructed.

His heart rate accelerated, and he gave you a confused look. As per your instructions, he started reading the letter.

Then read it again.

He opened the box in a frenzy and froze in his place when he saw the contents. Dozens of letters, and countless pictures of.. you? His heart dropped into his stomach.

With a handful of pictures, he turned toward where you sat, you were already watching him. Tears pricked his eyes.

You were being... stalked?

Someone was threatening you.. harassing you..

“MC, wha-” He started to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He began pacing.

“It started a little over a month ago,” you began to explain, “that was the first one I got from them.”

That’s around the same time Asmo said MC seemed flustered by some hate mail they got..

“They started showing up more and more frequently. I was getting them at work and school too.” 

Mammon’s head was spinning.

“Why? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked quietly, stopping to look at you, tear streaks staining his face.

“They threatened my family.. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to them.”

“We coulda talked to Lucifer and Lord Diavolo. They would’ve protected them.”

You shook your head, “I couldn’t take that chance, Mammon.” You stood up and walked over to him, once again wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your cheek on his chest. He held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d shifted into demon form and It was very unlike him. Out of all his brothers, he was the most level headed one, believe it or not. He was the least likely to lose his temper, or to unknowingly shift into his demon form. Sure, he got into his fair share of trouble being the Avatar of Greed, but none of those resulted in him losing his grip on his temper. Perhaps that’s why Lucifer chose him to look after you upon your arrival in the Devildom. He knew that out of all of them, Mammon was patient and almost never lost control. He knew he’d be the one who could keep you safe.

None of that mattered now, because he in the end, he didn’t keep you safe..

He couldn’t believe it. His human had been in danger all this time and he never knew.. 

He thought you were seeing someone else, all the while some sicko was watching you. Threatening you.

He was livid.

He broke the embrace and looked down at you.

“I’m gonna go call Lucifer and fill him in on what’s been goin’ on.” He said quietly.

“What about my family? Who knows if or when the stalker will find out you’re here. They’re in danger, Mammon.” 

“I’ll make sure they’re safe, okay?” You paused for a moment, and nodded. You absolutely trusted Mammon. You had no doubt that he’d protect them and you. Now that he was here, you felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Mammon never left your side. He sat with you, after he insisted you eat something, and also stayed with you while you showered. You already seemed to feel better. Color was coming back to your cheeks, and the light in your eyes wasn’t so dull.

When you got sleepy, he laid with you, holding you as close as he could, never wanting to let go. The last time he let you go, this is how things ended up..

He stayed there still as a statue, silently kicking himself for letting you down, when he felt your breathing slow. Your hand still on his chest where you had been drawing random shapes. You always looked so beautiful while you slept.

He carefully untangled himself from you and got out of the bed, pulling the covers over you. You squirmed for a minute and snuggled into the spot he had been laying in, letting out a content sigh. By the looks of it, this was the first time you’d slept so peacefully in quite some time. The thought made his stomach churn.

He quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him, leaving it slightly cracked. He checked all the doors and locks one more time, then went into the living room. He pulled his phone out, bringing up the all too familiar number. He began pacing around the room when it started to ring. It was late now, but he would definitely still be awake.

-

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway.”

Mammon rolled his eyes, “You’re s’posed to say ‘Hello?’ when you answer the phone.”

A dark, stifled laugh came through the other end. Even from this far away, he could be intimidating.

“Do you have any idea, what you’ve done? What am I to tell Lord Diavolo, hmm?”

“Lucifer, listen..” Mammon began, but was cut off.

“I am going to string you upside down from the rafters for the next two centuries, at least. That is, after you’ve received official punishment from Diavolo of course.”

“Luci-”

“You have no business.. no. You have no right to interfere in MC’s life. To run off to the human world, with the help of witches nonetheless, without thinking about the consequen-”

“MC is being stalked!” Mammon shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth afterward and looking down the hallway, hoping he hadn’t woke you up. He let his hand drop when he heard your quiet breathing coming from the bedroom.

The line was quiet for a moment.

“...What?” Lucifer asked, his tone now quiet, laced with concern rather than malice.

“MC is being stalked.” He repeated, pacing the floor.

Silence again.

“You’re sure?”

Mammon stopped momentarily and glanced at the box on the coffee table, “Yeah, I’m sure. The sicko has been sending ‘em hate mail everyday for weeks now. They also send pictures, Lucifer.. of MC. At the store, when they’re at work, and even some of MC outside their house.” He gritted his teeth. His throat burned, feeling as if it had been burned with fire. The things he wanted to do to this freak..

“Why didn’t MC contact the police, or us?” Lucifer asked quietly. Mammon could detect the faint hint of sadness in his older brother’s voice.

“They’ve been danglin’ MC’s family over their head. Said if MC told anyone, they’d kill ‘em.” He explained.

He heard a sigh on the other end. Lucifer knew you all to well, just like the rest of them did. He knew you were willing to put yourself in harm’s way for the people you cared about. You had done the very same for him and his brothers numerous times. You weren’t concerned by your own self-preservation if it meant protecting someone you love.

“What is their end goal then?” Lucifer asked.

“Not too sure, but a lot of the letters said that they were gonna ‘cleanse’ MC. Maybe trying to ‘save’ them? The stalker seems kinda churchy and they’re targeting MC because of us and Lord Diavolo’s plan to unite the realms.”

The other end of the phone was silent again for a moment, then he heard the shuffling of papers and what sounded like footsteps.

“Mammon, listen carefully. For now, stay with MC and don’t leave the house. This stalker may not know you’re there yet. We need to keep it that way if we intend to protect MC’s family. I need to consult with Lord Diavolo. I will call you when I know more.” With that, the call was abruptly ended. He shoved the phone in his pocket.

He quietly crept back to the bedroom where you were still sound asleep and watched over your sleeping form for a moment. His heart started to ache. The thought of someone putting you through all of this, tormenting you for weeks on end..

You were definitely the strongest human he knew, you proved that more times than he could count. To see you like this, so broken, a ghost of your former self, filled him with pure rage.

He crawled into the bed, the slight movement waking you up.  

“Shh, s’okay. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, pulling to snugly against him. You  laid your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around him and gave a small squeeze before he felt your body relax again, having fallen back asleep.

He missed these moments. The cute, sleepy cuddles in the middle of the night. Feeling the warmth of your body next to his and your quiet breathing. He missed walking to RAD together, hatching schemes, and running from Lucifer. Convincing his brothers to trade him so he always had kitchen duty with you, the way your hair smells, or how perfect you look under the moon of the Devildom. He missed you.

He used to have such a hard time expressing things, thinking it made him look weak. He’s one of the seven rulers of the underworld, after all. As if he’d ever care about a human. He can’t let lesser demons think he’s gone soft, so he masked his feelings, or tried to anyway. It didn’t last long.

You were so different, exciting, even for a human. You were always nice and never called him names like everyone else. You even stood up for him against his brothers and actually wanted to be around him. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever known. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, which terrified him.

He is a demon after all, and with that comes some responsibilities, so to speak. Being the Avatar of Greed, he would never be able to escape his sin. It’s part of who he is. 

But he found himself trying to get better control of it. He still got himself in sticky situations, but for the most part he was going straight, taking on more modeling gigs and other legitimate ways to make Grimm instead of stealing stuff and hatching ‘get rich quick’ schemes. He was even trying harder at RAD. He desperately wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t all the things everyone said he was, prove that he was someone worthy of your kindness and warmth.

But when he held your lifeless body in his arms, too fragile to withstand Belphie’s attack, screaming your name between sobs and begging you to open you eyes even just a little, he was made painfully aware of the truth he hid away in his heart. 

All he could think of was how he never got to tell you that you weren’t just some annoying human that made his life harder and drove him crazy. You were his best friend, the only person that’s ever understood him, like a little ray of sunlight cast into his darkness, warm and bright. You’re the only person he’s ever loved..

Thanks to Barbatos, everything worked out and he promised himself he’d be different, he wouldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He didn’t care if how he felt for you made him weak, because honestly, he was. When it came to you, he was the softest demon the Devildom had. He wouldn’t deny it any longer.

He had waited centuries for someone to come along and willingly give him the love he so craved. Someone who could see that he was more than just a Grimm hungry scumbag like everyone said. And you did just that.

Blame his greed if you will, but you were his human. He thought he had lost you once, and he wasn’t going to sit by quietly and let someone come in and take you away, or cause you harm.

For you, his precious human, he was more than willing to go to the ends of the three realms, if to only be able to show you a fraction of the gratitude and love he had in his heart for you. For choosing him. For changing him and his brothers for the better

His arms tightened around you protectively.

“I’ll never leave ya again.” He silently swore, placing a kiss on top of your head. “Never.”

-

Mammon was awakened by his phone ringing. Still in his pocket, he tried his best to fish it out without disturbing you, as you slept soundly on his chest.

“Hello?” He answered groggily, voice rough from sleep.

“Shouldn’t you already be awake? It’s nearly noon there.” Even in a different realm, Lucifer still found time to scold him. Mammon ignored it for now as there were more important things to worry about.

“Did ya talk to Lord Diavolo?”

“Yes, I did. He decided that it’d be best to bring MC back to the Devildom for the time being, until the stalker is dealt with.”

“And their family? What about them?”

“Lord Diavolo is sending in a team of highly trained guards. MC’s family will be under constant protection until this is solved.”

“Okay. Oh, uh, Lucifer? Could ya maybe tell their family some other reason they’re gettin’ the bodyguards, without mentioning the stalker? I don’t think MC wants to worry them..”

“Yes. I’ll make sure the guards know as well.”

Mammon sighed with relief. It looked like everything was going to be okay. 

Even if he and his brothers didn’t get along the best, he knew he could always count on them.

-

“Man, ya got nothin’ in here, MC.” Mammon complained. You watched from where you sat on the couch, as most of his upper body disappeared inside the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I’ve been too paranoid to go food shopping lately. I usually just eat at work.”

That hurt his heart. No wonder you felt lighter. You worked at a small coffee shop, it’s not like they had much other than muffins and scones.

Mammon shut the fridge door and padded into the living room, leaning on the doorway.

“Well, I’m starving. I’m sure you are too. So, c’mon, let’s go.” He said, motioning for you to follow him as he walked toward the front door, looking for his shoes.

“Lucifer said not to leave the house.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right. Hmm.” He put a finger to his chin, snapping his fingers when he thought of a solution, “We could get delivery.”

You nodded, “Yeah, ok. There was no rule against that.”

You placed an order at your favorite take out place, the one you used to get delivery from a couple times a week before all of this started. You were such a regular that you and the delivery guy on your route were pretty well acquainted now.

“Alex should be here soon.” You said to Mammon, setting your phone on the coffee table. 

He had been watching a video on his phone, slumped into the couch next to you, but something you said caught his attention.

“Huh? Who’s Alex?” He asked, abandoning his video to look at you.

“Oh, he’s the delivery guy on this route. Every time I order from this place he’s always the one that comes so we kinda know each other now I guess.” You explained.

“Ah.” He said nodding his head, turning back to his video.

“When he gets here, you’ll have to hide in the other room, though.”

Mammon nearly dropped his phone he was so flustered. He quickly sat up, his face turning red.

“Huh?! Just how close are ya with this “Alex”, MC?” He screeched, making air quotes around the guy’s name. His reaction confused you. Then it clicked. You could see how he interpreted it that way.

“What? Mammon, no.” You tried to hide a giggle. “It’s not like that. The stalker could be nearby watching the house. If you open the door or something they’ll see you and know that I most likely told you everything. Diavolo’s guards aren’t here yet, so it’s best if you remain hidden.” You explained.

He immediately deflated. “Oh r-right. Yeah, I knew that.” 

You walked over to him and got on your tip toes, placing a quick peck on his cheek. “You’ll always be my first man, Mammon.” A smile spread across his face.

He quickly wrapped you up in a hug and pulled you close, letting out a sigh.

“The Devildom ain’t been the same without ya. It doesn’t feel like home no more.”

You squirmed in his arms until you could look up at him.

“I missed you too.” You replied, knowing that that’s essentially what he was trying to say. He’d definitely improved on telling you hw he felt, but could still be emotionally constipated sometimes.

He was quiet for a moment, then you felt him tense.

“MC, I’m sorry I didn’t keep you saf-”

“Stop right there.” You said, pulling out of his embrace enough that he could see your face. 

“This is not your fault, or anyone else’s. This person is sick and lashing out because their personal prejudices aren’t enough to stop change. No matter what you’re trying to change, there will always be someone against it.”

His expression softened a little bit, relieved that you didn’t blame him.

“No matter how much people may hate me or try to hurt me, I will never regret my time in the Devildom. I may be human, but the Devildom is my home now too.” You returned to his embrace, squeezing him tightly.

You felt him relax, resting his cheek on top of your head.

“I love ya, MC.” He said quietly. With your head on his chest, you could hear his heart start beating faster. You smiled into his shirt.

“I love you, too.”

You stayed like that, wrapped up safe in each others arms, for what seemed like forever and not nearly long enough at the same time. The doorbell being the only reason you separated.

“Mammon, the food.” You said, trying to squirm out of his arms.

“No.” 

“Mammon?”

He grunted.

“Mammonnn, I’m starving!” You whined, still fighting to free yourself.

He dropped his arms, grumbling out a “Fine.”

“Go in the bedroom.” You said, pushing him forward. You put a finger to your lips when he turned to face you as if to “Shh” him. He made a face at you, but still complied.

You made your way back to the living room, and after checking the peephole, opened the door.

“Hey, Alex.” You greeted.

“MC, long time no see. How have you been?” He inquired, handing you the bag of food.

“Busy, as usual.” You replied, stepping back inside to set the food on the small table next to the door, grabbing the money.

When you turned back, you noticed his gaze on something just inside the door, next to your feet. You glanced down to see Mammon’s shoes where he had kicked them off after first arriving yesterday.

His expression had changed suddenly. He almost looked...angry?

You brushed it off, assuming he was having a rough day or something. Sticking out your arm, you handed him cash for the food and his tip, but he made no move to reach for it. His eyes still fixated on the shoes.

“Are you alone?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. You were sure you’d heard him right, you just didn’t know why he’d ask you something like that. You’d only ever exchanged small talk about work and the weather, so it’s not like you were close enough for him to inquire about something so personal.

His turned his gaze back to you, eyes now visibly cold.

“Is there someone in there with you? Someone not from around here maybe?”

The hair on the back of your neck was standing up. The way he asked the last question.. Something wasn’t right.

He leaned in slightly, “I thought I told you not to tell anyone?”

You felt the color drain from your face, your heart dropped into your stomach.

It’s him..

A sickening smile spread across his face at the realization of you figuring everything out.

“Not so tough now are ya, demon whore?”

Mammon can’t see the front door from the bedroom.. Think, MC. Think!

You quickly took a deep breath, filling your chest.

Mammon is right there in the other room, all you have to do is scream.

Sensing what you were planning to do, Alex grabbed you, holding you with your back against his chest, his hand clamped down hard over your mouth. You started to squirm and fight, trying to break free.

“Shhh. We wouldn’t want to make a scene now, do we?” He whispered into your ear. You felt something sharp poke your side and assumed it was a knife.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

He’s going to kill me..

“You’re coming with me.” Keeping the knife in your ribs so you’d do as he said, he quickly led you to his car where he opened the trunk and shoved you inside.

“I hadn’t planned on doing your cleansing this early, but oh well. The sooner the better.” He said, laughing, shutting the trunk lid. As soon as it latched you checked for the trunk release that should be on the inside, but this car was much older and didn’t have one. You were stuck.

You wondered why no one had seen what was happening, but it all happened so quickly that unless you were purposefully watching, you wouldn’t have noticed anything.

This was it. Whatever this sicko had planned was how it ended for you. 

You just wanted one more hug. One more kiss. One more chance to love him before it all got taken away.

You curled up into the fetal position, keeping his face at the front of your mind. Your tears now falling freely.

Mammon, I love you... I’m sorry..

| part three |

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 18

it’s finally over. here’s the last chapter. important notes at the end for those that are interested. thank you all so much for your support. it’s been a wild ride, and i’m glad i got to see it through to the end. 

ao3 link

It was perhaps the first time that Annabeth had ever felt nervous standing in front of the Jackson residence. She shifted uneasily on her heels and wiped her palms on her jeans before knocking on the front door. Usually, she felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world, but she felt entitled to a little anxiety given the circumstances. Not long after, Sally opened the front door and showed her inside with a smile.

“Hi, honey. It’s been a while, huh?” Sally said.

Annabeth nodded and offered her a small smile. “Yeah. It has. Things have been pretty hectic lately.”

“Percy told me you were in the hospital for a while. Are you alright?” Sally said, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I just injured my leg at a meet,” Annabeth said.

“Oh no, what happened?” Sally asked, furrowing her brow.

“I, um, tore my ACL,” Annabeth mumbled. “It’s still recovering, but I can walk on my own now. It’ll be a while before I can start running again, though.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. I would have visited, but I’ve been out all month doing more of those goddamned book tours,” Sally huffed.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Annabeth said. “I appreciate the thought though.”

There was a pause and Annabeth looked around the living room without meaning to. Sally gave her a smile and said, “If you’re looking for Percy, he’s upstairs in his room.”

Annabeth flushed and nodded. “Thanks. I’m gonna head on up then.”

“I’ll be taking Estelle out shopping, and Paul won’t be home until later today,” Sally informed her.

Annabeth blinked, somewhat confused. “Oh, alright. I’ll see you later then.”

“You should have plenty of time to yourselves,” Sally said, giving her a knowing look. “I’m guessing that you’ll need it judging by the sorry state that my son has been in the past few weeks.”

Annabeth’s face turned even redder and she nodded and made her way up to Percy’s room. She paused in front of his bedroom door and screwed her eyes and took a deep breath. Annabeth heard him in the shower, which diffused her nervousness before she stepped inside his room.

Percy’s bedroom hadn’t changed much, if at all, over the years. The room was sparsely decorated - almost nothing adorned the cream colored walls. There was still a full sized bed nestled against one corner of the room, draped with a fluffy blanket he hadn’t bothered to fold. Blue curtains framed a window overlooking the willow tree in his backyard, the one they used to climb when they were kids. On the other end of the room was an office chair, piled high with messy clothes, sitting in front of a well worn cherrywood desk. The desk was littered with stray homework papers, half-empty energy drinks, and a bobble head of some athlete Annabeth didn’t recognize.

Annabeth wandered over and looked at the four photos he had taped to the wall above the desk. One of them was with his mother at the beach in Montauk from back when he was a freshman. Another was one of the entire family at an amusement park. There was one with him and all of their friends sitting in front of a bonfire at Piper’s birthday party that past summer. And the final one was one of him with her, his hand thrown carelessly around her shoulder as she leaned into the crook of his neck, a contented smile on her face. The soft look on his face, like she had just hung the moon for him, brought a lump to her throat.

“Annabeth?”

Annabeth jumped back and turned to see Percy standing in the doorway, towel drying his hair. He was wearing an old swim team shirt from middle school and his penguin pajamas. The familiar scent of his body wash clung to his skin, unmasked by the cologne he usually wore. There was a careful expression on his face, like she had caught him unawares.

“H-Hey,” Annabeth said breathlessly.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” Percy said cautiously.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said, rocking on her heels. “Should I leave?”

“No, it’s fine,” Percy said quickly. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Annabeth nodded and sat on his bed. Percy rushed over to gather the clothes that had piled on top of the chair and hurriedly stuffed them in his closet. He hung the towel from his open window sill to dry and sat across from her in the office chair.

There was an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face, but it actually comforted Annabeth. She would have felt awkward if she was the only one feeling apprehensive.

“I, um, didn’t see you at school this week,” Annabeth said.

Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “Needed some time off. I haven’t been feeling very good.”

Guilt bubbled in the pit of Annabeth’s stomach. She knew that was her fault, but that he was too nice to tell her that.

She cleared her throat and said, “Sorry to hear that. Are you doing better now?”

Percy breathed a laugh and shrugged. “More or less.”

There was an awkward pause before Percy gestured to her leg. “How’s your knee?”

Annabeth glanced down at it and quickly looked back at him. “Oh, um, it’s fine. I had surgery done a few weeks back and it went well. I’ve started doing physical therapy now, but it’ll still be a while before I can start running again.”

“But you should make a full recovery, right?” Percy asked tentatively.

Annabeth nodded and stared down at her lap, playing with her fingers. “Yeah, the doctors said there shouldn’t be any issues since it was only a partial tear, but we won’t know for sure until I finish therapy.”

“That sounds like good news,” Percy said carefully.

Annabeth mustered a smile and said, “Yeah. About as good as I could hope for anyways.”

There was another brief pause and then Annabeth said, “I, um, also talked to the coach at Berkeley and told him about my injury.”

Percy’s leg bounced up and down. “And what did he say?”

“Well, he wasn’t happy about it,” Annabeth began. “But they’re not rescinding my scholarship.”

Percy made to move out of his seat and give her a hug, a grin splitting across his face, before he thought better of it and sat back down. A crushing sensation formed in the hollow of her chest as his grin waned into a sheepish smile.

“That’s wonderful, Annabeth,” Percy said softly. “I’m sure that’s a huge relief-”

“I’m sorry for how I acted at the hospital,” Annabeth blurted.

The smile slid off Percy’s face, but Annabeth powered through anyways. “You were only trying to help, and I lashed out at you for no good reason. That was awful of me, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for that.”

Percy nodded in a clipped manner and said, “Apology accepted.”

Annabeth was surprised that Percy hadn’t tried to downplay the whole thing by saying it wasn’t a big deal. A lump formed in her throat - her words must have cut deeper than she realized.

“It really hurt, hearing all that, but you had every right to say it,” Percy continued.

Annabeth shook her head and said, “No, I- I was just being cruel.”

He offered her a strained smile and shrugged helplessly. “You were still right though. About all of it. There’s no excuse for me not telling you about Kara, for hiding so much from you.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and resisted the urge to argue with him.

Percy hunched forward in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair violently. “I’ve been thinking about it non-stop, trying to figure out why I did that, but I still don’t really get it. I want to tell you, so badly, but there’s a part of me that just can’t. It’s really fucking frustrating and confusing.”

He paused and exhaled forcefully. “Honestly, the only thing it’s made me realize is how fucked up I am.”

The pain and bitterness in his voice tore up Annabeth inside. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Percy said, shaking his head insistently. “I wish I could just show you somehow. Make you understand-”

“Percy, good person,” she stressed. “Maybe you can’t see it, but I can-”

“Well, you don’t actually know me,” Percy snapped.

Annabeth must have looked as devastated as she felt because Percy’s eyes immediately swelled with guilt and repentance.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly.

“No, you’re right,” Annabeth admitted shakily. “I don’t really know you. I thought I did, but I was wrong.”

“That’s not your fault,” Percy insisted. “I’m just- it’s fucking impossible for me to ever let anyone actually see me.”

Then who have I been seeing this entire time?

The thought hung heavily in her mind but she forced herself to ignore it. Still, she found it hard not to let despair swallow her whole. She couldn’t help thinking about how Reyna had said that at a certain point, you had to accept that there was really nothing that you could do. She was clearly out of her depth here. Honestly, she stood a snowball’s chance in hell of actually saying something helpful.

She sat there in silence and watched the conflicted look on Percy’s face. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his eyes shone with focused intensity, like he was at a swim meet. If this was only going to cause him so much pain, she never should have told him she wanted to talk. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling like she needed to do something for him. Whatever he was holding inside was clearly eating at him. She couldn’t just leave it alone and act like it wasn’t her problem. Percy never would have done so if their roles were reversed.

Percy surprised her by punching his leg in frustration and releasing a shuddering exhale before he looked at her and spoke.

“No- No matter what, I can’t help thinking this all points back to Gabe.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “Your step-father?”

Percy nodded and said, “I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. It’s weird, but he’s wrapped up in all this. I just know it.”

Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. Percy never talked about Gabe, but Annabeth had more than an inkling of what he did - how some days Percy came to school with a sullen look, wincing when he sat down, and gingerly probed parts of his body when he thought nobody was watching; days when he hardly smiled or even said a word to her and she would wordlessly slide him her homework at lunch to copy.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Annabeth said.

Despite what Piper said about needing to press Percy, Annabeth knew there were some wounds that were better left untouched.

Percy balled his hands into fists and shook his head. “No, I have to. Otherwise, I’ll lose you for good.”

Annabeth’s heart squeezed in her chest, so she took his hands in hers and said, “Look Percy, I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you’re uncomfortable with. It’s fine if there are things you can’t talk about. You have nothing to prove to me. No matter what, you’re still my best friend, and you’re never going to lose me. Okay?”

“Really?” Percy asked quietly.

The way his voice sounded, raw and bleeding, made self-loathing fester in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes, really,” Annabeth said tersely. “I’m so sorry that I forced you into a corner like this. I was wrong about what I said at the hospital. I did something terrible to you.”

“Don’t say that, Annabeth,” Percy said tightly. “It’s not your fault. At all. You’ve been nothing but endlessly patient with me. I- I’m just not strong enough.”

Annabeth shook her head. “You’re the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to do this all on your own. There’s probably not a whole lot that I can do to help, but at least I can help share your burden and listen.”

Percy was quiet for a minute before he looked at her with a hard gaze. “Are you sure about this? It’s not a very fun story to listen to.”

“Yes,” Annabeth said immediately.

“If it ever gets to be too much, let me know,” Percy said sternly.

Annabeth took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here for you.”

Percy exhaled forcefully and nodded before staring down at his lap. A minute or two passed before he was ready to speak again, and Annabeth could see conflict and pain swirl in his eyes like whirlpools of emotion.

“He was nice at the start, you know?” Percy said quietly. “He wasn’t all that bad the first few months after they got married. Sometimes he’d get me some candy on his way home from work. Teach me how to throw a baseball. Normal stuff like that. But then, at some point, things changed. Still can’t figure out why. Like, was he just hiding how awful he was the entire time or did something change in him? Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

He paused for a moment and said, “The first time I remember him hitting her, I was eight years old. He was really tearing into me about getting in trouble at school, telling me how much of a fuck up I was, how I was a stupid kid who couldn’t do anything right, and mom defended me.”

“At some point, he got so pissed he chucked a plate at my head and barely missed. It shattered on the wall and gave me this,” Percy said, tugging down his shirt sleeve to reveal the crescent shaped scar on his shoulder.

Annabeth traced the scar with trembling fingers and tried to stomach the nausea and rage she felt brewing inside her.

“Mom went ballistic after that, but that just pissed him off,” Percy said slowly. “Gabe hit her so hard her head hit the wall and started bleeding. You can still see the dent downstairs in the living room. Then, he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to look at her, crumpled on the floor. I can still remember the stink of cheap cigarettes on his breath and him whispering in my ear, ‘This is all your fault, kid.’”

“Christ,” Annabeth whispered.

“Yeah, I know right,” Percy said, smiling wryly. “And that’s just one story - I have hundreds of them. Like, remember how I forgot my field trip form to the zoo in 5th grade?”

When Annabeth nodded, Percy said, “Well, they had to send me home because there weren’t any teachers at school that day. Mom was at work, so Gabe had to pick me up. He was super pissed that I made him miss his poker game, so he was bitching at me the entire ride home. At some point, I snapped and told him to fuck off. Next thing I know, he punches me in the stomach so hard that I puked all over the floor of his Camaro. Of course, that only made him even angrier, so he beat the shit out of me and made me clean up the mess.”

Annabeth tried to keep her voice steady. “Tell me you told somebody.”

Percy smiled humorlessly and said, “And who would I tell? My mom? The woman working three jobs, married to an abusive piece of shit that hits her, with a kid who only ever seems to fuck up at school and embarrass her? No, she had enough on her plate as it was. I couldn’t add more.”

“Then the teachers-”

“Annabeth, you remember how it was for me in school. The teachers hated me,” Percy said bitterly. “To them, I was just a trouble-maker. How could I turn to them? And besides, even if I did, what good would it do? Gabe would just deny it and take it out on me or mom later.”

Percy leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Eventually, I just got used to it. He was smart about it too. Always made sure my mom wasn’t around and that the wounds wouldn’t show anywhere someone might see. And over time, it just become something normal, and I got used to never telling someone about it.”

He paused for a moment and clutched at the fabric of his shirt, over his stomach. “Even telling you right now is like physically painful for me. Like my stomach is in knots and every cell in my body is telling me to run. A part of me keeps whispering, no matter how much I try and ignore it, that I’m not allowed to ask for help, that I- that I deserve this because it’s my fault.”

Annabeth took a sharp inhale and bit her quivering lower lip to keep from crying. She had always known Percy had had a troubled life, but she had never expected that it would be this horrific. He was the best person that she knew and he deserved so much more than this. It was profoundly unfair and tragic and wrong and she didn’t know how to fix it or if it was even possible to fix it.

“None of that was your fault, Percy,” Annabeth said tersely. “He was a sick, twisted piece of shit, and you shouldn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for the past five years, Annabeth, but there’s some part of me that doesn’t believe it,” Percy said softly. “That fucked up shit he did and said to me is still there, rattling around in my head, and I can’t make it stop.”

He balled his hands into fists. “He sort of beat into me that I was responsible for everything. It was always my fault because I was a bad kid or a fuck up. And he was kind of right too. Mom was having such a hard time back then and I never made things easier for her either, always getting into trouble at school. I tried to be a good kid. I really did. It just wasn’t ever good enough. I just kept letting people down and that hasn’t ever stopped.”

Before Annabeth could interject, he looked at her and said, “You asked me at the hospital why I never told you about Kara. The truth is that I hate myself for being so shitty to her. Like, I drove her into a corner and made her feel so insecure and alone that I forced her into cheating on me. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to her-”

“Percy, what Kara did was her own decision,” Annabeth interrupted. “Maybe you could have done a better job, but you can’t force someone to cheat on you. Kara even admitted that it was her fault and said she wanted to apologize to you for it.”

He stared at her for a few beats and a myriad of conflicted emotions flashed in his eyes before he shrugged noncommittally and turned away. Annabeth ground her teeth together and moved off the bed before she even realized what she was doing. She framed his face with her hands and forced him to look into her eyes.

“Listen to me, you are a good person,” Annabeth said tightly.

Percy averted his gaze. “I’m really not, Annabeth. I’m just trying to make up for the fact that I’m- well, me.”

“And I’m telling that it’s okay not to be perfect! Because that’s the standard you’re holding yourself to! We all hurt and let each other down, Percy. That’s fucking normal!” Annabeth fumed.

“What’s the fucking point if nothing ever changes?” Percy shouted, his voice cracking. “I try and try and try, and I still keep hurting the people I care about, and I’m just- I’m so fucking sick of it, Annabeth.”

“People hurt each other all the time, Percy, sometimes just by existing! You’re looking at a prime fucking example of that,” Annabeth shouted, jabbing a thumb at herself.

“Like, how many times have I hurt you through my own carelessness? And yeah, it breaks my heart sometimes knowing how awful I’ve been to you, but I’m trying to be better because you’re the most important person in the world to me and I don’t want to lose you. And I learned that from you! Because isn’t that what you’ve always done? Tried to be better?” she demanded.

At this, Percy was silent, and Annabeth sat back on the bed, sighing. “That’s what actually matters, Percy: the fact that you’ve never stopped trying. You don’t always have to nail yourself to the cross anytime you fail.”

There was a pause before Percy quietly said, “I- I don’t know how not to.”

“Well, it starts by acknowledging that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes,” Annabeth said, softening her voice. “Your mom once told me that you would rather put yourself in pain to ease someone else’s suffering, that you feel responsible for how others feel. Like, I know that Gabe was the one that taught you that, but that’s really fucking unhealthy. You need to see a professional therapist or counselor to help you process all the shit he put you through and teach you a better way to handle it.”

“And what if that doesn’t work? What if it’s too late to help me?” Percy asked.

“Then we’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Annabeth said, repeating what he had told her at the hospital.

“I’m not sure I’m worth all that effort,” Percy said tightly.

“Well, I’m your best friend and I think you’re the sweetest, kindest boy there ever was and that you’re worth the whole world,” Annabeth said.

She thought he would argue with her again, but she was surprised when Percy scrunched up his face and looked away from her, blinking back tears. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded with a sniffle. Her heart welled up inside her chest and she felt a sense of fond exasperation rush through her, making her smile to herself.

Oh, you dumb, stupid boy.

“Thank you,” Percy mumbled.

Annabeth shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

It was a while before he looked at her again, and when he did, he looked up at her shyly through his stupidly long eyelashes.

“D-Did you mean what you said in the hospital?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

Percy’s face turned a gentle shade of vermilion. “Um, about being in love with me?”

Annabeth’s face turned serious. “Yes. I should have chosen a better time, but I meant it. One hundred percent.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled upwards. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Oh’?”

Percy’s face turned even redder. “Um, I’ve been dreaming about this moment for like seven years, so you’ll have to forgive me for the fact that my brain is kind of fried right now.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow and tried not to look smug. “Seven years, huh? That is a long time to hold your peace.”

“In my defense, you always hated it when people said anything about us dating, so I tried to kill off that part of myself and fully commit to just being friends,” Percy said.

“I’m sorry about that,” Annabeth said seriously. “I must have hurt you a lot.”

“It was painful,” Percy admitted. “But I was happy enough staying by your side.”

“The whole fake dating thing was super tone deaf then on my part, huh?” Annabeth said quietly.

“I should have refused, but I couldn’t help myself,” Percy said, grimacing. “I wanted to pretend, even if it was just for a little while, that you actually liked me back. It was a pretty bad idea, but I even tried dropping a bunch of hints since I couldn’t tell you how I felt, in the hopes that it might change something, I don’t know.”

“Well, it wasn’t all bad,” Annabeth said. “It got me to realize a whole bunch of things. Without that whole fiasco, I don’t think we’d be where we are right now.”

Percy cleared his throat and said, “And where is that exactly?”

Annabeth sat up straighter and folded her hands on her lap. “Well, for starters, I’d like to start dating you. For real this time.”

“Are you sure?” Percy asked, furrowing his brow. “We’ll have to be long distance once the fall rolls around.”

“I’m sure,” Annabeth said firmly. “Besides, we’ll be in the same state.”

“Would be nice if we were closer instead of on opposite ends,” Percy said, sighing.

Annabeth shrugged and said, “It’s a five hour and forty-two minute drive, so not all bad.”

“And you know that off the top of your head?” Percy asked, grinning.

“I, um, checked on Google maps.”

Percy gave her a smarmy look and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, so you came here today planning expecting to ask me out, huh?”

Annabeth shoved him and bit back a smile. “I checked back in December, you jerk.”

Percy made a show of wincing and said, “Alright, alright, take it easy.”

There was a pause before Annabeth folded her arms over her chest and said, “You still haven’t properly answered me, by the way.”

“I thought it went without saying that I would say yes,” Percy said, blinking.

Annabeth’s face turned a little pink. “I- I still want to hear you say it.”

Percy ducked his chin for a moment and looked at her shyly. “Yes, I would love to go out with you.”

Her heart beat a little faster in her chest and exhilaration washed through her. “Nice.”

Percy blinked for a moment and nodded sagaciously. “Yes, nice.”

Annabeth shoved him again and ended up tackling him off his chair and fell on the floor with him. He wrapped an arm around her and laughed, and the sound reverberated through his skin and warmed her right through her bones. They lay like that for a while, tangled in each other, while he played with her hair.

Eventually, she looked up at him and cleared her throat. “So what happens next?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the one with all the dating experience,” Annabeth protested hotly.

Percy tried for a shrug and said, “Beats me. We could go get some celebratory shakes at Martha’s maybe?”

When Annabeth was quiet, he looked down at her and said, “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well, um, if you were open to it, I would like to kiss you now,” Annabeth mumbled.

A beat passed before Percy bit back an enormous grin. “Sounds agreeable to me.”

“Don’t make me deck you again,” Annabeth warned.

“Alright, you absolute terror.”

“Dullard.”

“Always so mean, Chase.”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“Are we gonna kiss or what?”

“You’re supposed to be the one leading, dumbass. I’ve never done this before, remember?”

“Okay well, for starters, don’t bash your nose into mine like that.”

“Oh my god, I actually hate you.”

“What you have a problem with the way I’m ‘leading’?”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

“Alright, no need to get so testy.”

....

“Okay?”

“U-Um, yeah. Could we, uh, do it again? You know, just for practice?”

“Sure. Just for practice.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Just so you know: it’s too late for take backs.”

“Too late?”

“Yeah, way too late.”

....

“I love you.”

“I know. Now, can we go back to the kissing, please?”

....

“You’re not gonna break my heart, are you, Annabeth Chase?”

“I won’t.”

....

“And I love you too.”

[emma-frxst]

The Implicit Demand for Proof (5)

Pairing: detective David loki x reader

Summary: you, a forensic psychologist with the FBI get called in to investigate a high priority child abduction case in Conyers, PA. what happens when you catch feelings for detective Loki?

A/N- screaming a humongous hello to everyone! I am back after an unplanned hiatus, thank you all for being so patient and I hope you haven't forgotten me nor my series. I’m planning on publishing more regularly now. thanks again for your patience, I appreciate every like, reblog, message, and every one of you supporting me. Without further adieu, we have left detective Loki and y/n waiting way too long, here's TIDFP ch 5!

*Back at the police station*

“Great. Okay, yes. Thank you.” You hung up the phone.

You turned to look at Loki, he was hunched over in his chair, typing. Strands of delicious chocolate brown hair falling around his face.

“Hey, Loki?”

“Hm?” He hummed, not looking up from his computer.

“I just got off the phone with the family that’s selling that house in Fairmont Circle, they’re coming in for an interview later today.”

“Okay, good. Um..” he trailed off reaching for a file. “These are the photos of the RV and Jones.” He said finally looking over at you.

“Okay, thanks.” You said, rolling over in your office chair to take the file. 

When in his proximity you could faintly smell the cologne he had on; it was musky and woodsy, you guessed a cedar wood blend. It surprised you though, you didn’t know what kind of cologne you’d expect him to wear but it wasn’t that.

Not that you were profiling him, right? You’re simply making observations about his cologne. Yeah. It’s fine.

“I’m gonna go check this out.” Loki gestured to his computer screen. “There was another local boy who disappeared and I think it’s too similar to this case to be coincidental.” It was a local newspaper article, ‘Conyers boy disappears’ the title read; the article itself no more than a few paragraphs.

“Okay, keep me updated.” You said and rolled the chair the short distance back to your desk. “I’ll let you know how the interview goes.”

“Alright.” Loki replied bluntly and headed out go check up on his lead. He was a man of few words.

-

You had just finished interviewing the family that was selling the house when Loki walked past conference room to interrogation followed by detective Chemelinski. Probably something to do with Father Dunn since Chemelinski was on that case.

“Thank you for your cooperation, if you remember anything else, just give me a call.” You handed the wife your business card. “Officer Carter will show you out.” You explained as you held the door open for them.

You wandered back to your desk, hoping Loki got a better lead than you did, the family wasn’t that helpful. Finally, Loki came back into the bullpen looking irritated. Which, as you’ve come to find out, wasn’t all that uncommon.

“Anything new with the priest?” You asked, spinning around in your desk chair to face him.

He blinked hard once. twice. Three times then, shook his head ‘no’.

“He’s sticking to his story and Chemelinski’s wasting my time.”

He put his face in his hands and let out a long exhale.

After an awkward pause, loki spoke up.

“Whatcha got l/n?”

“The family is offering their full cooperation, but they’re not much help. They’re fairly certain they’ve seen the RV before, but didn’t recognize Alex Jones. They haven’t had anyone interested in the house since it’s been on the market, so no one’s been there.” You said. “Anyways, I was hoping you had something better than that.”

Loki leaned back in his chair, spinning around to face you. “Mrs. Milland thinks the same person that took her boy that took Anna and Joy.”

“That’s interesting.”

“yeah?”

“Well, you said that you thought the cases were too similar to be a coincidence, and Milland thinks it’s the same person. I think we should look into the possibility of this kidnapper being a serial offender.

“Really?” Loki questioned.

“Yeah, I hate to say I’ve seen a lot in my line of work.....anyways, I don’t want to cause unnecessary panic so keep this on the down low, plus we don’t have proof.”

“Right.”

“But I don’t wanna dismiss the idea. We need to look for patterns in past kidnapping cases and-“

Loki couldn’t help but tune her out as he was suddenly mesmerized by her little mannerisms. Like the cute way she gestured with her hands when she was speaking or the way she brushed the hair behind her ears.

Loki was suddenly aware of this..feeling inside his chest. It was fleeting. Gone as quick as it came.

“Loki?” You questioned, seeing him zoned out.

“Hm?” He quickly snapped back to reality.

“Can you take me to records so we can look at other cases?”

“Yeah.” He paused for a second. “Yeah this way.”

As you followed him towards the elevator, you noticed he still seemed spaced out. Which was odd for him.

“Loki...are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I just...” He began to panic a bit on the inside. “I’m fine.”

‘Your body language says the opposite’ you thought to yourself.

The elevator door opened before you could press the issue any further. The elevator ride to the 3rd floor took painfully long, almost an eternity of awkward silence between you and the detective. Neither one of you brave enough to break the silence.

“Wait here.” Loki stated as you both stepped off the elevator.

The records room was old and musty, with only a few windows. Kind of creepy too.

A few minutes later Loki came back with the files.

“There’s a desk in the corner over there so we don’t have to carry all these back to the bullpen. I’m going to follow up with father Dunn. Let me know what you think about the cases.”

“Ok I will, thanks.” You replied and held out your arms to take the boxes of files.

“Oh..Um, I’ll take these to the desk for you. They’re kind of heavy.” There was a short pause. “Not that I think you can’t carry them I just uh.. I’m sure you’re a very strong capable woman..I..I.. um…”

“Thank you detective.” You said with a polite smile, not wanting him to fumble over his words anymore.

You thought it was kind of cute, Loki, the hard, gritty detective stumbling over his words, worried about offending you in the slightest.

“I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

“Ok” Loki said and began to walk off. 

His footsteps suddenly slowed to a stop. He turned back to face you and cleared his throat. “Um, the vigil for the girls is tonight and I’m gonna go stake it out...you can come...if you want. I mean.. I-it may be helpful to the investigation.”

You smiled.

“Sure thing. But you’re buying the coffee.”

“Got yourself a deal.” He replied and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his face. Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks I will.” you replied. 

Back In the elevator Loki’s thoughts raced through his head: Did I offend her by insinuating she wasn’t strong enough to carry some boxes? I hope she doesn’t think that. She agreed to go to the vigil so that’s good, means she’s not too mad. what kind of coffee does she drink? Iced or hot? No definitely hot coffee, it’s freezing outside. I’ll have to bring my big coat..does y/n have a coat that’s warm enough? Maybe I should offer mine..no that might be weird, don’t make it weird David....

He quickly shoved all those thoughts and feelings in the back of his mind, like had done so many times before. He had work to do.

-

tags: (tags are open send me an ask if you want to be tagged for all my stuff, or only certain stuff just let me know!) I think i got everyone im sorry if i forgot you! let me know if i did !

@chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog @super-darlcloudtsudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

loki only tags: @spideyrights @sataninsatin @go-commander-kim @severuined @romancried tagging you just cause :)

[shoutogepi]

You Want Me to Call You Baby Girl?

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10k oopsies

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : DD/BG kink, minimal booty spanking & temp play, man-handling ahaha

bio : Shouto accidentally discovers his girlfriend is much kinkier than he suspected… and he intends to test out his new knowledge as soon as possible.

author’s note : o BOY THIS IS A SPICY FIRST FIC. whew i promise im not usually this nasty actually who am i kidding yes i am :))) also side note, all characters are aged up to year 3 in this (so everyone is 18+!!)

also available on AO3 here~

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈our duffel bag buzzes loudly, taking your attention away from the sparring match you and Ochaco were currently engaging in.

“One sec, Ochacho-chan,” you request hastily, putting your hands up in apology and bowing.

“Sure thing Y/N,” she smiles, “I need to take a break anyway!”

You squat next to your bag, hands fishing blindly through the compartment for your vibrating phone.

Shouto ♥︎ flashes across your screen, a photo of the handsome boy slurping soba lighting up the background.

“Shouto,” you pick up, huffing after your challenging training session.

“Y/N,” he replies, his suave voice instantly bringing a minute flush to your cheeks. “Where are you right now?”

“Ahhh I’m at the training center with Ochacho-chan,” you answer, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “We were working on our hand to hand combat!”

“Hmm,” he purses his lips in frustration. “I left my Search and Rescue textbook in your room yesterday. Any chance I could come by and grab your key?”

Your foot absentmindedly plays with the strap of your duffel bag, wandering aimlessly as you clutch the cellphone to your ear. “My door should actually be unlocked,” you chime,” so no need to come all the way over here!”

Shouto frowns. “You leave your door unlocked?” he pauses, “Knowing we have some questionable… characters living in the same building?” His mind is immediately on Mineta and Kaminari, the two perverts of the class.

Your laugh smoothes over his distaste, instantly bringing a small smile to his lips.

“I know you forget your things in my room so you have an excuse to see me,” you say playfully, your bottom lip captured by your teeth as you bashfully rock on the balls of your feet.

A slight blush covers Shouto’s cheeks, which he is glad you’re not there to see. “Hmm, it seems I’ve been figured out. I guess I’ll stop doing that then,” he teases, prodding you for a reaction.

“N-No, that’s okay,” you rush out, adding a hesitant laugh. “I’ll… I would take any excuse to see you,” you murmur, voice growing quieter.

Shouto’s heart flutters, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Um, anyway, my door is unlocked so just go on in. I should probably get back to Ochaco now,” you trail off awkwardly.

“Can I buy you dinner tonight?” It slips out before Shouto can even think.

A beat passes, and Shouto licks his lips in anticipation.

“I would really like that, Shouto,” you chuckle into the phone. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Of course. See you tonight,” Shouto smiles, taking the phone away from his ear and pressing the red button on his screen. He stands in front of your door for a moment, gazing at your contact picture. God, you were so cute. How he had managed to score you, he had no clue.

He’d been in his room when he called you, but walked over to your floor and dorm room as the conversation ensued. Just as you had said, when his hand touches the door handle, it gives way and he steps into your room.

Closing the door behind him, he breathes in and closes his eyes, savoring the sweet and clean smell of you that lingered on your belongings. After a moment, he walks over to your desk, his textbook in sight, but buried underneath an open notebook with your messy notes scrawled across half the page. Your laptop rests to the left of the notebook, open and upright, but the screen is black and the charger light is green, indicating the battery is full.

Shouto’s fingers automatically reach for the cord, unplugging the charger as it was best to do so for your laptop’s battery in the long run.The screen automatically lights up, a black browser popping up and displaying a video.Shouto tries to avert his eyes before he could read the screen, but he had already read the video title the instant it popped up.His face instantly bursts into a cherry-red blush, and he chokes as his throat suddenly dries, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth in shock.

You Want Me to Call You Baby Girl? Beg for Daddy, Maybe I’ll Be Nice.

Shouto’s wide eyes scan the title again, and then a third, and a fourth time to make sure he had read it correctly. You had left your door unlocked, your laptop open, and a porn website out on display?

Had you… meant for him to see this?

He shakes his head in disbelief. There was no way that his innocent and sweet girlfriend had planned this out… which meant that you would probably be mortified if you knew he had found this.

Shouto stands frozen at your desk, unsure of what to do. The two of you were no strangers to sex. You had been dating for almost seven months now, and you had been intimate together a handful of times.

But never like this… Daddy? Baby girl? Begging?

Shouto’s mind suddenly wanders somewhere very indecent, and he gulps as he shakes his head. Sure, everybody has fantasies and turn-ons… this wasn’t that far-fetched.

But that’s why he is so torn. He could leave now and pretend he had never seen this… or he could sit down and watch this video, and do to you whatever this video entailed.

Unable to make up his mind, he hastily sits in your desk chair, swiveling the back around and scooting in to sit properly in front of the laptop. This was dangerous territory.

Well… watching the video couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?

Biting his lip, his long fingers reach toward the trackpad. His fingertips hover over the key hesitantly, before he shoots up abruptly from the chair and delves his fingers in his two-tone hair.

Pacing now, he lunges across the room and bolts the door. Walking in a circle, his arms cross on top of his broad chest. Why was he second guessing himself? He had been so sure just a second ago… That’s right, he had made up his mind!

Shouto rushes over to the chair again, eagerly hopping into it. Before he could question himself again, he grabs the headphones plugged into your computer and presses play, his heart thumping against his rib cage. His knee bouncing, palms clammy, the video begins to play.

The screen remains black, but shuffling is heard through the headphones. Suddenly, a sultry male voice speaks.

“Hmmm, you’re back for more so soon, kitten?”

A fresh blush immediately bloomed on his cheeks, his adam’s apple bobbing. Hands quivering, he remains still, questioning if he should be here or not. Before he can think further, the voice starts again.

“You know it’s very naughty of you to beg for me like this, baby.” A sweaty hand lands on Shouto’s knee, his lips wavering uneasily as his fingers grab on, knuckles turning white. The voice chuckles darkly, purring almost. “What’s that, you need me to touch you? Hmm, like this? Do you like when I touch your tits like this baby girl? You’re such a naughty little thing, not wearing a bra like this. Mmm, I can’t help but touch your aching body, princess.”

Shouto sits back roughly, cheeks still bright red as he processes the man’s words. Is this… what turned you on? Could this be… what you touched yourself to? Did you… did you close your eyes and think of him when you did? His cock jumps in response, a tent rising in his pants. Fuck, this was hot.

“Did you miss me baby girl? Did you touch yourself while Daddy was gone? You know that’s against the rules.” Shouto’s mouth feels as dry as a desert, a shaky breath tumbling out of his parted lips. Holy shit, the image of you touching yourself to this makes him sweat. Would you be willing to call him that? Daddy?

“Oh baby, look at you. What a mess you’re making on our sheets… You’re dripping wet, mmmm, look at your slick, tight, little pussy.” Shouto’s eyelids fall as he imagines your hot, sweet cunt, remembering the taste of you and the way you whimper as his tongue disappears into your heat. His hand trembles, hesitantly jerking toward the tent in his pants.

“Fucking shit,” he groans, hunching over the desk as his hand rests gently on his bulge, fingertips brushing back and forth gently.

Is this how you wanted him to talk to you? You wanted him to talk dirty to you and call you these sweet names?

The voice purrs lowly, a sigh escaping the man. “You want my fingers in you baby girl? You want me to fuck you with my fingers huh? Tell me what you want, baby. Be a good girl and beg for me.”

Shouto gasps as his body shudders. Jesus, this was some kinky stuff. But… he liked it. Very much, apparently, according to his prominent erection.

“That’s very rude of you, baby girl, to address me incorrectly.”

A smirk crosses his lips as he could definitely imagine you acting like a little brat underneath him, just to irk him. You loved to push his buttons all the time, even when you weren’t fucking.

“What was that kitten? I didn’t hear you. What’s my name again?”

His eyes closed, a quiet moan falling from his lips. He could just picture you in front of him, gazing up at him with those wide and innocent eyes… calling him Daddy. Imagining that word rolling off your sweet tongue jerks him out of the chair, pausing the video.

A harsh sigh heaves from his chest, hands splayed on the desk as he pants, hunched over your laptop. Watching this video, invading your privacy… it made him feel grimy, but the feeling in his pants was just as intense.

He stands still for a moment, processing all of this, before he rewinds the video back to the beginning and plugs your laptop charger back in. After making the computer go back to sleep, he pushes himself off the desk, making sure to grab the textbook he came for. With a last glance at your laptop, he exits your room, book strategically placed on his abdomen, hurriedly returning to his room to conduct further research and take care of his… issue at hand.

~~~

You blow away the stray hair tickling your nose, diligently holding the iron away from your face. The fresh curl falls as you release the clasp, and you smear away a mascara smudge under your eyebrow, leaning into the mirror. Blinking at your reflection, you let out a shaky breath.

You unplug the curling iron, your other hand running through the curls to smoothen the neat spirals. Fixing your top, you turn away from the vanity, standing up.

Swinging your small purse off the back of the chair, you grab your jacket and shrug it on.

A knock on your door grabs your attention, and an eager smile immediately blossoms on your lips. You quickly drag your perfume rollerball across your wrists and dab it along your neck, tucking the vial into your purse and opening the door.

Your boyfriend stands in the doorway, thumb tucked in the pocket of his jeans, the other hand fixing his hair. The sherpa-lined denim jacket laid perfectly against his broad shoulders, gray t-shirt snug against his muscular chest, finishing off with black jeans tucked into his dark brown chelsea boots. His hand falls from his hair to snake around your waist, gathering you to his chest. You gladly let him scoop you up, arms coming to wrap around his neck.

“Shouto,” you mumble into his neck, breathing in his strong and fresh cologne. “You look so handsome tonight.”

He pulls back his head so your eyes lock. Something unrecognized stirs within the depths of his heterochromatic gaze. His other hand floats underneath your face, thumb and forefinger catching your chin to lock you into his stare. You’re suddenly very aware of the hand that presses into your lower back, his long fingers trailing across your jacket slightly.

He responds, voice whisper-soft. “And you look absolutely delectable, baby girl.”

He allows one second to savor your stunned expression as you process the new pet name that he had addressed you by before he guides your lips to his, capturing your mouth tenderly.

Your whimper lodges from your throat as Shouto’s lips press against yours, your hand pressing the nape of his neck towards you to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from your chin, face pulling away from yours. His half-lidded eyes admire your flushed cheeks, and the desperate look that lurks below the surface of your expression, a smirk landing on his lips. He gently pries your hands away from his neck, kissing your cheek swiftly as he laces his fingers with yours.

“Hungry?”

Oh, so he was just going to skate on by it, like it was no big deal. You clear your throat tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and nodding quickly. “S-starving.”

“Let’s go then, baby girl, the ramen place closes in an hour,” he says nonchalantly, eyes regarding you as he watches blush blossom across your cheeks. This could be fun.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, and he exhales softly through his nose at the action, concealing a groan. He tugs on your hand, steering you toward the elevators and toward your awaiting meal.

~~~

“Y/N?”

Flustered, you look up at your boyfriend, who is watching you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sorry, what?” You ask, embarrassed to have been caught in your own thoughts.

A warm smile splits Shouto’s lips, a short laugh escaping. His eyes catch yours, genuine zeal clearly identifiable. “Do you want to watch a movie? I can look up what’s in theaters now. Or maybe we could get bingsu? My treat, baby girl. I know you love the mango one, from that place on the corner.”

“S-Shouto,” you murmur, eyes falling to rest on the cleared table in front of you. Your fingers pick at the corner of the discarded napkin nervously.

Shouto reaches out, his hand folding around yours, effectively making you look at him. “What is it baby girl? You wanna go home?”

Your legs clench together underneath the table, the building heat between your legs burning insatiably. He’d been calling you “baby girl” all night and you just couldn’t stand it anymore. You swallow, eyes averting from his to look at the hem of his t-shirt. “Y-Yes please, I don’t feel very well,” you answer honestly. You definitely wanted to get back to the dorms.

Shouto nods earnestly, getting up out of his seat and helping you out of your own. His left hand lands on your back, slipping underneath your jacket and making the warmth of his quirk known through your thin shirt. “No problem, Y/N, let's get you home.”

He calls an Uber back to the dorms even though you had originally walked, the restaurant being about a 25 minute stroll from the UA campus. He opens the car door for you and slides in after you, hands reaching out to click your seatbelt into place before securing his own. You blush again, murmuring a “thank you”, and grab his hand eagerly. Shouto smiles smally in return, his other palm smoothing over your joined hands.

As you step through the doors to the dorms, a burst of nerves blooms deep in your stomach. Shouto’s hot hand was again on your back, gently guiding you to your door.

Your head feeling light, your hand searches frantically for your keys in the depths of your purse. You had locked your room this time thanks to Shouto’s earlier admonishment.

Shouto’s lips press gently to your temple, making you jump in surprise. The corners of his mouth twitch upward at your reaction. ”Are you okay baby girl?” he breathes into your ear.

Your pussy quivers at his voice so close, his fingers spreading downward from your waist. His breath fans over your neck as your shaky fingers finally reach your keys. Your wrist trembles as you push the key into the door, and Shouto reaches over to turn the handle, pushing it open and slightly nudging you into the dark room.

The door shut behind you and the click of the lock is heard audibly in the silent room. A crack in your blinds casts a thick beam of moonlight onto the floor, illuminating your otherwise pitch black room.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as Shouto’s hands find your figure again, fingertips floating across your waist. His biceps caging you into his embrace, he presses a short kiss to your throat. “You don’t feel so good, baby girl?” His lips part and he places them against the column of your neck again, this time leaving behind a slick patch from his eager tongue.

You shake your head weakly, knowing your voice would come out broken and wavering. You feel his hands traveling around your waist, his hips brushing against your ass just barely.

“Anything I can do to help you, baby girl?” His voice is so low, and it drips with something almost ominous, swallowing up your senses. His teeth ghost over your throat, triggering a soft gasp from you. His mouth breaks into a sinister smile at your reaction.

“Y-Yes, I need your hands… on me,” you whimper, hand reaching up to anchor yourself on his bicep.

Shouto exhales against your skin, cock jerking in his jeans at your reply. His hands move slowly from your waist down your hips, fingers curling around your inner thighs, sliding up past the hem of your skirt. “Where do you want my hands, baby girl?”

Your legs tremble, and you curve your back into his chest, ass pushing against his crotch. A fresh blush litters your cheeks at the recognition of his clothed erection.

“You gotta tell me what you want, baby girl,” he murmurs huskily into your ear, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. They were so painfully close to your panties, a ragged breath escapes you.

Your mouth parts to reply but your words fail you, your body only being able to focus on breathing as steadily as possible. Oh god, you were so turned on right now.

His fingers brush against the edge of your panties, and your legs clamp together desperately. “Here? You want my hands on you right here? Use your words, kitten.”

A reticent moan leaves you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “P-please, Shou…”

An ardent grin raises the corners of his mouth, and for the first time tonight his breath shakes as he replies. “That’s very rude of you, baby girl, to address me incorrectly.”

Your body freezes, anxiety enveloping you in an icy grip. You absolutely knew what he meant, without a shed of a doubt. Eyes wide, you rip out of his grasp, turning to look at him.

Your eyes meet and a hesitant look penetrates his intense gaze.

“You—,” you choke out, eyes darting to the open laptop on your desk. Shouto’s eyes follow yours, and a guilty expression instantly graces his handsome face. His hands out in front of him, blush reddening his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Shouto whispers, “Please let me explain. I didn’t mean to see it, but I accidentally woke up your laptop when I was grabbing my textbook and I tried not to see it but…”

You feel absolutely mortified, eyes wide and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You cannot believe you were so stupid to have left your laptop open and on the Incognito browser! “Oh my god,” you sniffle, pure shame encompassing you.

Shouto closes the distance between you two, arms bringing your figure into his embrace. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. Please don’t be embarrassed, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.” One hand runs through your hair repeatedly, while the other presses you tightly into his chest.

You stay silent, words once again failing you. What if he was just doing this because you thought it was hot? What if he was making himself do this, even if he thought it was freaky? You bite your lip to stop it from trembling, hugging him back.

After a moment he draws your head back so your eyes lock, and that dubious emotion once again is visible deep in his two-toned stare. “I know I shouldn’t have pressed play,” he admits, tongue slipping out to run across his lips swiftly. His eyes flick to your own lips momentarily before looking deep into your eyes once again. “But the thought of you being into this,” he groans, eyelids dropping half way and fingers clutching your hair intensely,” The thought of you touching yourself to that… Just the possibility of you imagining it was me saying those nasty things to you… God, I couldn’t help myself, baby girl. You have got me so damn infatuated with you.”

His sultry eyes bore into your wide ones, melting away all your fear and hesitance. You want to say something, anything, but your lips are just paralyzed in shock. He was into this? Your cool and composed boyfriend wanted the same dirty things you did? Your pussy throbs between your legs, desire intensifying like he had poured gasoline onto the fire.

“You can say no, baby girl. Don’t be afraid to, there will be no consequences and no hard feelings on my part. I know this is a lot to ask of you,” he breathes, his magnetic gaze buttering you up. His hand stretches around your head, middle finger pushing against your jaw and thumb brushing your cheek. “But if you want to continue, I would happily oblige. All you have to do is—“

Your hands move before you can think, lacing around the back of his neck and gathering his lips to yours. The kiss is passionate but short, catching him by surprise. The fact that he is just as considerate as ever, even in this mortifying yet exhilarating situation… it turns you on even more. This man is all yours, you are all his, and you damn straight intend to show him.

You pull back, admiring the startled expression on his features. A soft, wanton moan escapes you, your eyes falling to his lips before sneaking back up to his eyes, catching his dazed stare through your thick eyelashes. “Please continue, Daddy.”

Shouto’s dick strains against his briefs, angrily awakened by your enthusiasm. A strangled noise releases from his throat, his fingers automatically gripping you harder. His eyes wide in astonishment, he blinks at you once, twice, before his entire demeanor reverts back to his predatory behavior from earlier.

“Fuck,” he groans, smashing your lips against his. The kiss is hot and wet, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips and thrusting into your mouth. Tongue rolling over yours, his hands roughly touch your aching body. His hands fumble to tear away your jacket, your purse making a loud noise as the metal chain on the strap hits the ground.

His right hand cups your breast, squeezing diligently as his thumb rolls over the center of your bra, right over your nipple. His other hand grabs your ass cheek, gathering you closer to his body as his tongue dances with yours.

Your hands feverishly run along his body. Fist full of his hair, your other hand desperately running along his muscular shoulder, thumb dipping down to press into his collarbone.

Your mouths pull away, a string of saliva connecting your restless tongues as you both gasp for air. Your gaze meets his as you both try to catch your breath, desire clear as day in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles on ragged breath, the fingers from the hand on your ass straining toward your panties. They successfully push them aside, the tips of his middle and ring fingers connecting with your slick hole.

Your body shakes uncontrollably at his caress, a pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you throw your head back.

Shouto pushes your body backwards, scooping you up and throwing you onto the bed. Your back hits the comforter and he’s instantly on top of you, fingers sliding back and forth easily along your slit.

“You’re wet as fuck baby girl,” he accuses, fingertips prodding your hole just barely enough to get a reaction from you. “Have you been this wet all night? Pressing your legs together underneath the dinner table and in the Uber? Hmmm, you like when I call you baby girl, don’t you?”

Your leg curls around his, trembling in anticipation. “Yes, Daddy, I love it so much,” your voice is hoarse from being breathless, and Shouto’s cock swells at your tone.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” he whispers into your neck, pausing to place more hot, open-mouthed kisses along your thumping pulse. “I think you deserve a reward for being so cooperative, baby girl.” His fingers push into your tender core, neatly trimmed fingernails rubbing along the pulsating, velvety walls.

You’re positively quaking underneath him, loud and unabashed moans meeting his quiet pants. His fingers feel so good inside of you, the way he curls them upward slightly to massage that special spot he always manages to find. “Oh, Daddy,” you whine, legs opening wider to give him more access.

“God, look at you,” he taunts, voracious eyes gauging your desperate body thrashing under his. “You’re such a nasty girl, you love when I touch you like this, don’t you?”

It’s impossible to breathe, so you just nod pathetically, your nails cutting little crescent indents into the skin on the bicep he’s propping himself up with. The nod seems like just enough to satisfy him as he smirks, tongue forcing itself into your mouth again and dominating yours.

His fingers slide deeper inside of you with ease, and he curves his fingers rigidly, assaulting your pussy without mercy. “Christ, look at you. You’re making such a mess baby girl.”

Your hand grips the duvet, fingers frantically clenching the material. Your spine arches off the mattress, breasts pressing up against his chest. “Please, Daddy, I need more! Please!” you beg, your mind hazed with lust.

Shouto sighs ruggedly, his hair tickling the side of your face as his body rocks gently to the force of his fingers in your tight cunt. He leaves a short kiss on your cheek before his teeth pinch the tip of your ear, his hot breath hitting your cartilage. “I love when you beg for me, baby girl. How can I resist when you ask so kindly?”

His mouth leaves your ear, body slithering south so his face is in front of your sleek, hot pussy. His fingers leave your core, and the noise of discontent that leaves you is cut short immediately as his tongue thrusts into you. His tongue pushes in and out of you quickly, the fingers that were in you a moment ago rubbing your clit with fervor.

Your hand slaps over your mouth as you let out a stifled cry, eyes scrunching closed at the feeling Shouto was giving you. No matter how good he was making you feel, you would die of embarrassment if your classmates heard you in such a state.

“Baby girl,” Shouto pants as his mouth comes away from your cunt, his chin shining with your slick. His fingers plunge back into you, making it hard for you to look at him straight. “Do you like it when I eat you out? You like my tongue on your pussy, baby girl?” he asks, eyes glittering mischievously. His tongue wraps around your clit, pulling it into his mouth and ravishing the nerve in circles.

Your back flies off the bed once again, a hand clutching his hair for dear life. You take your hand off your mouth for a moment to reply, but your voice dies in your throat as his fingers ram into you harshly. A muffled squeal escapes you, and a dark chuckle replies from the man between your legs.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice unsteady. The pressure building between your legs becoming undeniable, your thighs shake slightly around Shouto’s head.

Shouto’s tongue leaves your clit, lips kissing the bundle of nerves gently. “You wanna cum, baby girl? So soon? You must be desperate, huh?”

“Oh god, Daddy,” you whine, glancing down to catch his intense gaze. “You make me feel so good, I can’t help it. Please, please let me cum.”

He smirks against your hot cunt, fingers never tiring. “You’re such a good girl, I don’t even have to tell you to beg,” he sighs, eyes closing as he savors your taste. “God, you’re so sweet and wet. Now be a good girl and cum all over my face.”

His mouth sucks your clit back in, tongue smoothing over the nerve back and forth with renewed speed. His wrist finds a new angle, allowing his fingertips to assault your cunt even deeper than before.

Your body sweats feverishly against his hot embrace, and you cry out in surprise when his right hand slips under your shirt and then under your bra. The icy temperature awakens goosebumps on your skin and your nipple hardens quickly, rolling the pert bud between his thumb and forefinger. The novel sensation pushes your body over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his fingers harshly. Your hand claps over your mouth just in time as you let out a scream, your orgasm raking through your body. Your hips dig into the mattress, your pussy clenching and throbbing and leaking your cum all over Shouto’s fingers and his mouth.

Shouto’s fingers slow, but his tongue continues to lick eagerly at your clit, lapping up the fresh essence that leaks out of your slit. His fingertips brush over your sweet spot a few more times before he takes his fingers out of your hole, his tongue taking their place and tracing circles inside of you. He trails his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, circling the tip around your clit one last time before he pulls away, kissing your thighs with his slick lips.

Your body shivers as the tide of ecstasy recedes, eyes opening to see Shouto looking down at you intensely, his fingers in his mouth as he sucks your cum off his digits. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” his lips touch yours tenderly, almost softly. His fingers curl around the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue shyly licks your bottom lip, and your mouth gladly grants him entrance. Your taste lingers on his tongue, but it’s pleasant as his own tongue caresses yours gently. Your fingers curl under his jacket, pulling on the trim with pleading hands. Shouto’s hands leave you for a moment as he rips it off, flinging it onto the floor. He also yanks his t-shirt over his head, discarding it as he had the jacket. Your hands eagerly land on his broad, muscular chest, savoring his delicious build. Your lips meet his again and your tongue meekly pushes into his mouth, taking him by surprise. He moans into your lips, allowing your tongue to push his into moving in sync.

Shouto shuffles backwards so he sits between your legs, his hands gripping your waist and the back of your neck again, pulling you to sit upright with him as your lips continue to push against each other.

His hand grabs the hem of your shirt, lifting it up swiftly. Your lips break away from his for just a second as your shirt leaves you, but as soon your torso is exposed his hot lips are back on yours. This time, he takes the lead, easily dominating you as he shoves his tongue roughly between your lips. You gasp, only making his quest easier than before as you allow him further access. His hands clutch onto your waist, pulling your hips toward his. Your mouths part, shared shaky breath leaving the both of you. You watch as his eyes open slowly, gaze trained on your face before trailing down, regarding your uncovered chest and the lacy bralette.

“This,” he mumbles as his lips touch yours again, on hand settling on your hip while the other pinches at the clasp of the bralette,” has got to go.” The lacy material sags as the clasp opens, and his calloused fingers brush away the straps on your shoulders. He sweeps the discarded material off the edge of the bed, focus directing to your bare chest instead. His hand cups one of your breasts softly, lips gliding against yours as he groans. “Why are you so fucking irresistible?” He ducks his head so his mouth captures your nipple gracefully, licking and skimming his teeth along it teasingly.

You arch into his touch, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Your hands grab onto his skin as a destitute mewl floats out from your lips. “Shou,” you huff, wanting to catch his determined gaze once more.

His eyes cast upward toward yours impishly, a smile curling his lips as they hold onto your pert nipple. His tongue runs over the hard bud between his teeth, making you cry out softly.  “What did you call me, baby girl?” His hand claps swiftly against your ass cheek, your body jolting against his as you let out a shaky moan.

“I, I’m sorry Daddy,” you whisper, your body dismayed as he releases your breast, head returning to your eye level. His gaze analyzes yours, watching your expression perceptively. You had responded positively to the spank. “Can I…”

“What was that, baby girl? Spit it out,” he commands, his other hand clashing against your other cheek, which jiggles invitingly, advertising the fresh red mark he had just inflicted.

“Can I p-please suck your cock, Daddy?” you finally manage to choke out, an intense blush infiltrating your cheeks. Shouto’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise at your request, but a smirk quickly rises to his lips.

“You wanna suck my dick, baby?” his lips brush underneath your jaw as he leans in, sucking the skin there harshly and lapping over it with his tongue afterwards. “God, you’re such a fucking slut for me.” His fingers graze your soft folds again, making you buck your hips against him clumsily. He gazes at his digits, watching the trail of arousal string out as he stretches his fingers apart. “You really are my good baby girl,” he remarks, eyes landing back on your pleading expression. “Alright, go ahead. Show me what your sweet little mouth can do.”

Your hips shuffle forward, placing yourself on his lap as your hands splay down his muscular back. He hums mirthfully as you trace your hands down his torso, your lips finding solace on his trapezius. You roll your hips against his slowly, savoring how his hips jut up against yours and the way his head falls back at the action.

Eagerly, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, Shouto’s body following you on his own accord. Your head tucks down, yout tongue tracing a trail down his pec and swooping around his nipple slightly. A forced cough erupts from the back of his throat at the action, his skin more sensitive than he likes to admit. His hand combs through your hair, grabbing onto it as you place more kisses down his abs, stopping at the top of his jeans. You get off of him, sliding off the bed gracefully as your knees hit the floor in one languid action.

Shouto stands, hands undoing the button on his jeans hurriedly and he pushes the denim down his thighs halfway. His hot gaze lingers on you as you tentatively move forward, lips meeting his clothed cock in an innocent kiss, eyes glancing up to capture his. A hot blush rushes across his cheeks, and he’s glad you look away, focusing your attention back to his dick. Your hand meets the prominent outline of his cock, rubbing your fingertips along the shaft as you place an open-mouthed kiss on the head, effectively wetting his briefs. He swallows thickly, watching as you shyly tug the elastic band over his hips.

His cock springs free, bouncing out to touch your cheek impatiently. You smile at the sight of his dick so ready for you. His member stands thick and long, totally upright with veins popping out and running the length of his dick, the head swollen and red with just a drop of precum sitting pearled and ready. Restlessly, you wrap your hand around his cock, lips parting and tongue dragging along the tip of him, savoring the salty, musty taste.

Shouto has a wicked grin on his lips as he watches you from above, enjoying the sensation of his cock finally being acknowledged. “Oh, baby girl, you know I don’t like to be teased. Why don—”

You cut him off, mouth opening and taking in half his dick, tongue swirling on the underside carefully. Shouto’s smirk effectively is wiped off his face as you moan, the vibration locking his legs up as he shakes slightly, shocked at your sudden actions. Quickly while you have the upper hand, you bob backwards and then toward his body again, even more of his hard cock disappearing into your hot, wet mouth. He gasps for breath, mouth open and eyes wide as he watches his dick penetrate your lips. Your sinful tongue snaking around his shaft, a quiet “fuck” slips out of him as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. You moan at his sheer size, the action constricting your throat around him and his hips jolt into you. His cock slams even deeper into your throat and you repress the urge to throw up, gagging harshly and eyes watering as his gaze locks with yours. You lean back and gasp for air, coughing shakily.

Shouto bends down, hand moving your hair to the side as his expression shifts toward concern. “Are you okay baby girl? Sorry, that was a little rough for you,” he mumbles regretfully, hand rubbing your back.

You look back up at him and his breath stills as your gaze catches his. “Oh, Daddy, I love choking on your cock,” you admit, ignoring the tears stinging the corners of your vision. Your hand grabs his slick cock once again, taking him into your mouth and starting to bob on his length at a fast pace.

Shouto’s hand flies up to cover his mouth, his brow scrunched in a mix of pleasure and awe, watching your eager actions lustfully. Holy shit, you were so fucking hot to him.

You continue to nod along on his length, savoring the way his eyes flutter as his tip reaches the back of your throat each time. His hand clutches your hair tightly, moving along complacently as you set the pace. Your other hand floats up to fondle his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as your other hand digs your nails into his thigh.

Your mouth leaves his cock with a quiet pop, a thick string of saliva trailing between your parted lips and the head of his dick. You only mean to take a quick break to gasp for breath before you continue, but Shouto has other plans.

He pounces on you, rough hands cupping your ass and throwing you up into his arms so your center slaps against his abs. Your breath is ragged, chest shaking with sheer excitement. Shouto seems just as frantic, his wet, hard dick caressing your ass cheek as he places your back against the comforter, your head gently touching the pillow. He’s panting, warm breath rolling over your cheek as his two-toned eyes pierce your own. His body hovers over yours, long locks of red and white grazing your face. Your body jumps slightly at the feeling of his tip meeting your slick entrance, rubbing between your folds gently.

Your stomach momentarily stops roiling with anticipation as butterflies suddenly appear there instead, Shouto nudging his nose softly against yours. “You ready?” he whispers, cerulean and gray orbs peering deep into your eyes, searching, probing, for even the slightest wisp of doubt.

Your hand lifts and cups his jaw, pressing your lips to his sweetly for a moment. An unspoken thankfulness for his considerate gesture transferring from you to him. Your eyes open again, all tenderness gone. “I’ve been ready for you all night, Daddy.”

A wicked grin splits his lips, eyes glinting down at you as his hips rut forward, shoving his entire length into you in one powerful thrust. A mix between a wheeze and a shout of pleasure releases from you. The sensation of your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick cock, the feeling of him pushing your cervix aside to nestle deeply inside of you, caressing your most secret and hidden spot— it makes your eyes roll back and your lips fall open, even though no noise escapes.

Shouto is still as a statue above you, expression almost pained as he tries not to even breathe. You had never been this reactive to him before, your drenched pussy gripping his cock so tightly stars briefly danced underneath his eyelids. And yet, even with how tightly your core held him, it had been so gloriously easy to just slide his dick right into your awaiting trove, your essence leaking out from your hole to dampen the sheets.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you lament, your body shaking in bliss at his cock filling you so perfectly. Your whine seems to snap Shouto out of whatever cosmic trance he was in, his hips automatically pulling away only to snap back into you, a wet smack bouncing off the walls. “Shit,” he murmurs, repeating the action. His eyes jump from your pussy swallowing up his dick, to your face of pure bliss. Your jaw falling wide open, your eyelids clamped shut tightly, eyebrows drawn upwards in the middle of your forehead as you obediently take his cock. “You’re so fucking tight baby girl,” he groans, glancing down again to watch his dick sink into your scorching, slippery core.

It’s so hard for you to find your breath. Every time Shouto’s hips hit yours you forget everything else, including how to breathe it seems. You close your mouth, teeth pinching your bottom lip and eyes prying open to catch his sizzling gaze. He stares you down, your exchange intense as he dominates you, plunging his thick cock into you again. The feeling makes your eyes flutter, a fresh blush lacing your cheeks as you look at him.

Shouto’s lips are in a self-assured smirk, eyebrows scrunched as he leans down onto you, carelessly rubbing his tip into your g-spot. Your pussy throbs and you fight back a sob of pleasure, your eyes still wet from choking on his dick minutes before. “Daddy,” you wail as he positions himself closer to you, arm curling tenderly around your waist to arch your back, pushing your hard nipples up against his strong chest. His hips dig into yours, grinding the head of his dick against your spot. Both your body and your walls shiver at the action, fingers curling into the covers hysterically.

“What do you want, baby girl?” he whispers, voice low and more gravely than you had imagined possible.

You lick your lips urgently, throwing a short look to his dick retreating from your aching slit before catching his sinful gaze again. “Please Daddy, I want you to fuck me,” your hair fanned around your pretty face, your cheeks bright red, desperation filling your wide eyes. Your needy look makes Shouto groan, his heart slamming against his rib cage. God, it was so hard for him to not give in… but he really wanted to hear you beg.

His hips glide into yours slowly, pulling out and pushing back in at a measured, hesitant tempo. Even just these careful thrusts has you covering your mouth, head tossed back in ecstasy. His hips carefully rake against yours a few more times before he leans in close. His lips ghosting over the hammering pulse in your throat. “Like this, baby girl?” His body trembles as he restrains himself, strung out like a ticking bomb as he continues his calculated ministrations.

You grab the back of his neck, lacing your fingers in the short hair and pulling harshly. He lets out a small moan, hips stuttering as he almost strays from his plan.

You wiggle your hips flush against his, opening your legs wider and securing them around his waist. “Daddy, I love your dick so much,” you whisper onto his neck, feeling his hands tremor just a bit before you smile against his skin. “Please fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Shouto sighs, pulling almost all the way out before shoving his whole cock back into you. Your eyes roll backwards in your skull and before you can even cry out, he does it again… and again, and again. His pace is so fast and hard you can’t keep up. His hips snapping harshly against yours, he fucks you like his life depends on it. His hand is turning the flesh on your waist white as he slams your hips onto his, strangled gasps falling out of his mouth. Your lips fall apart but you can’t muster any words, hell, you can’t even produce a single thought. “Fuck yes, Y/N,” he hisses, balls deep in your dripping core. “Your cunt is so wet for Daddy— you love being fucked like this, don't you, baby girl?”

All you can do is nod weakly, overwhelmed by the pressure building between your legs. You whimper, nails digging into Shouto’s prominent back muscles as your toes curl in bliss. He laughs crudely at your frazzled state, sounding more like a snarl as he continues the delicious onslaught on your g-spot.

“What was that, baby girl?” he teases short-windedly, your cunt trembling around his thick member. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

You try your best to clear your throat, but only a dissolute sob comes out. Shouto’s hand grabs your chin sharply, and your eyes fly open as his rapid pants fan your cheek. You summon some unknown force within you and push the words— any words you can think of— out of your mouth. “Your h-huge dick makes me — nnngh!— m-makes my slutty cunt feel so fucking good Daddy!” you cry, celebrating in the way your testimony summons a hot pink flush to your boyfriend’s cheeks. He continues to pound into you, his efforts revitalized. The reaction only eggs you on as your lips part on their own again. Your eyes wide as this unknown, brazen side of you surfaces,” I want you to fuck me so hard, please abuse my pussy Daddy, it’s all yours.”

Shouto’s eyes roll back at your plea, and he wonders for a split second why you’d never shown him this side of you before. He absolutely loves it. He pulls out of you for a moment and you wail at the loss of his hot, thick length. Just as fast as he left, he’s flipping you over, grabbing your hips, and raising them into the air. You barely even realize you’re on your knees before you register his cock crashing harshly into your tender core, a scream ripping through you and luckily being swallowed into your pillow. A loud clap! sounds and your ass stings, making you arch into his chilled palm. “Oh, baby girl. You’re such a fucking slut for me,” he chuckles darkly, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis and savoring the fresh pink mark. Goddamn, he never knew hitting you like this would turn him on. One of his hands reaches out and grabs your ankle, shifting the angle of your hips slightly and rocking your body back to meet his with every thrust. The other hand squishes your ass cheek, hot fingers digging into your supple skin.

“Fuck,” you huff, face retreating from the pillow to finally gasp a breath of fresh air in. “Holy fuck!” you exclaim as Shouto continues to drill his dick into you. The sheer force of him pushing so deeply into you makes a tear roll down your cheek. You’d never been fucked so good in your life. And you never imagined that Shouto would be the one to dominate you like this either-- the boy was usually so collected and calm. A sharp crack! yanks you out of your thoughts, a delectable tingling sensation spreading over your ass. Your head falls back to look at your boyfriend, who is ready to catch your gaze with a pointed, seductive look.

“You like when I treat you like this, baby girl?” he slams you onto his abs, making a startled shriek float out from you. He simpers at your reaction, hand leaving your ankle to wrap around your torso, encasing your breast while his icy thumb rubs your nipple gently.

You can’t help but curve into him, shoving your cunt harder onto his waiting cock. A short grunt slithers out of him, and his thumb and forefinger pinch the sensitive bud forcefully.  “Mmmph-- I love it so much,” you gasp, one hand shakily reaching toward your throbbing clit.

Shouto’s eyes follow the movement, and he gulps as you touch yourself, the new stimulation making your pussy instantly squeeze around him tightly. His gaze sharpens with vehemence as your cunt grasps him needily, fluttering distinctly around his dick. Your soft whimpers are muffled into the duvet as you rub your slick clit repeatedly, the tension burning between your legs building rapidly with such provocation. “Baby girl, are you close?” he whispers hoarsely, fingertips turning white as he brashly clutches you soft skin.

You nod wildly, not caring if your makeup smudges against the sheets. “I, oh god Shou, I’m so close,” you warn, pussy clamping onto him forcefully.

An anguished sob rips from your throat as Shouto pulls his cock out, leaving your cunt aching and empty. With tears springing into your eyes, you look back at him, dejection prominent in your gaze. But all he greets you with is a gentle smile, hands trailing off of you to feather his fingertips against the skin of your waist. “On your back, baby girl. I want you to look at me when you cum all over my cock,” he tantalizes, and you instantly roll over, legs stretched far apart. He snickers lightly, eyes scouring down your flushed body, lingering on your glistening, trembling core. He scoots forward, pushing your back against the headboard, tucking a pillow behind you thoughtfully. “Give Daddy a kiss, baby girl,” he murmurs, and your plush lips greet his own right away. He hums, savoring the feeling of your hot tongue rolling against his. The way you follow his orders with such enthusiasm sends fresh blood to his cock, which twitches irritably against your wet cunt.

You whine impatiently as his dick slides against your slit, his tongue driving yours into submission. Your heart hammers against your ribs in anticipation as his arms tuck underneath your knees, folding your legs against your stomach and then pushing them open so his body fits between them perfectly. His tips presses against your quivering entrance, and the hand around his cock guides himself in slow circles, collecting your arousal before he pushes into you.

He only enters you halfway but your body quakes at the feeling of your walls welcoming him inside once more. His hips shuffle, easing his cock further and further into your sopping cunt with each thrust. His breath is heavy but measured as he finds a rhythm, battling against your clenched heat as he shoves himself inside you. His hands gently grasp the top of your hips, holding you close to himself but doing so almost tenderly. “Did you think about me when you touched yourself to that nasty video baby girl?” he pants, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. His eyes burning with dominance, tongue running ferociously under his teeth.

You gasp for breath, locking eyes with him and nodding wantonly. “Yes, yes I always think of you when I touch myself Daddy,” you attest, head falling atop the pillow as his left hand gropes your breast in response. The renewed frost of his palm causing you to jerk against him, his hips persist the assault on your core. His hot right hand pushes your calf into the air, making you tighten around him as he accesses your deepest point again.

“Is that all, princess?” Your cunt tightens against his thick cock at his prompt. His hips roll divinely against yours, the new movement making his abdomen brush against your clit. Your lip trembles, recognizing the numb feeling sprouting within you that signals your orgasm is near. “Don’t you wanna convince me to let you cum?” he presses on, thumb swiping across your perky nipple and inciting a lustful moan from you. Shouto knows that you’re hurtling toward the edge, but it’s so much fun to see if you’ll be able to control yourself for him.

“I— oh god, Daddy,” you squirm slightly in his hold, your peak dangerously impending.

“Take your time, baby girl,” he smolders, lips hung tightly in a victorious smirk. Watching you melt in his hands, he notices that he’s nearing his own climax… but he pushes the thought of it away now so he can focus on you.

You feel a wave of heat wash through your body, toes curling almost painfully as you press your lips together into a firm line. You glance down to watch Shouto’s cock disappear into your center one more time before you look at his face, catching his eye. “I,” you gulp, sucking in a breath of air before he had the chance to steal it from you. “I can never make myself feel as good as you do, Shouto.” You relish the way his eyelids sink hazily, his teeth capturing his pretty bottom lip. “Y-You make me— nghhh— feel so full when you hit my g-spot, ah!” your hands fly to his shoulders as his own viciously grip your hips, pace and force increased. “Please!” you beg,” Please let me cum Daddy! I— I’ve been so good for you, please!”

He laughs menacingly against the moist skin of your neck, “I suppose you have been a good girl, Y/N.” He can feel your legs quivering as you dangle on the edge, a wave of pride washing over him as he looks at your wrecked state. “Whose— fuck, whose pussy is this?” He leans close to your face, pushing your leg against your body even tighter.

Your voice cracks in desperation, spine curving into a crescent shape as your fingernails scrape his shoulders. “Yours! Oh my god— Yours, Shouto— Daddy! Please!”  You were so close, the corners of your vision going blurry.

His hips continue to slap against yours ruthlessly. His curled lips press a chaste kiss to your cheek, nose pressing against your ear as he commands,” Cum for me, baby girl.”

Your legs stiffen around his hips, the rubber band of your orgasm snapping brutally as your pussy clenches onto your boyfriend for dear life. His lips cover yours as you let out a defeated and unfiltered moan, hips crashing against his in ecstasy. He wheezes as your cunt voraciously grips his length, hips stuttering as he lets you ride out your climax. His mouth leaves yours and swoops down, slurping a nipple into his mouth, suckling and twirling his tongue around the peak. Your lungs burn for air as you gasp, lightning tingling from your fingertips to your toes. You brush an overwhelmed tear from your cheek, your mind beginning to fan off the clouds of pleasure.

Shouto lets go of your nipple, returning to pound into you from above. His movements are rough and fast, and they abuse your already aching g-spot even more, making your eyes nearly cross. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he rasps, perspiration dripping down the deep grooves of his muscular torso,” You’re such a good baby girl for Daddy, look at you taking my cock so well.” He throws his head back, harsh pants traveling towards the ceiling as he realizes he doesn’t have to hold back his own orgasm any longer. Fuck, was he this close to busting a nut in you the entire time?

You nudge your nose underneath his slacked jaw, making him hang his head again for you to capture his lips. His lips dance against yours clumsily, the tempo of his hips becoming jerky. You can feel his ragged breath on your skin, low moans tumbling out from his mouth as his eyes clench shut. “Daddy,” you whimper, wiggling your hips to push against his further.

Shouto curses under his breath, eyes peeling open into slits to regard your provocative expression. “Y-Yes, baby girl?” he groans, taking in the way your round breasts bounce to the glide of his thrusts.

“Please cum for me,” you plead, your hands running along his solid, sweaty frame. He moans at your request, hips bumping clumsily into yours at his heightened pace. “I want your cum to fill me up, please, Shouto,” you urge, “I need it so bad!” Your cheeks blush once again at your erotic invitation, and Shouto feels himself rip through the finish line as he takes in your bashful, demure expression.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he grumbles, his hips jutting against yours lazily as his cock spurts his hot, thick load into you. Your cunt quivering as you receive his cum, your body thrums, sharing in the ecstasy radiating off of Shouto’s rigid form. He whimpers as he pumps into you a few more times, the last of his cum shooting into your welcoming core before he stills.

Shouto’s slick torso gently sags onto your body, shaky breaths dragging into his lungs as he attempts to recover. His face falling into your neck, he groans as your pussy clenches on his still-hard dick. His palms meet the swell of your breasts, thumbs softly caressing the prominent buds that stand upright for him. His lips glide against the sleek skin of your neck, and you feel his eyelashes tickle your jaw as he places sweet and gentle kisses to your throat.

You barely recognize the fluid dribbling out of your pussy, collecting into a small puddle underneath your ass. It’s just Shouto and you in this moment, the two of you savoring each other’s presence. He stays hovering over you for a minute, body still connected with yours as he gains his sanity. Your eyes are closed, breathing finally evening out.

His lips greet yours playfully, gliding in sync as one of his hands travels to your neck, tipping your head back so he has better access to your mouth. Your lips part with a whine as he takes his cock out of you, feeling empty and sore without his warm fullness inside anymore. His tongue coasts deeper into your mouth, tangling with yours as his fingers slip into the hair at the nape of your neck. He lets your leg slide off his shoulder, placing it down next to his hip with care. He pulls his mouth away from yours, chuckling deeply as his mischievous eyes meet yours.

Your eyebrow quirks up, a small smile gracing your lips too. “What?” you pout, fingers hanging around the back of his neck.

The smile that splits his lips is blinding and so genuine, it stuns you for a moment before you process his words.

“You nasty, baby girl.”

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

make sure to shoot me an ask or a reblog if you enjoyed, nasty bb girls ♥︎ thank you for reading!!

masterlist (no other fics at this point as of feb 6, 2020)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[theunquenchablethirst]

Home Pt5: High Quality and Expensive (Jeremiah X Reader)

FUUUUCK, I can’t believe I managed to get this done today! People have been screaming for me to update Home, but the lord did not bless me with strength. Until 3:30 am tonight anyway. So, fucking take it, read it, enjoy it and please let me know what you think of my writing and dysfunctional sleeping pattern.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @persephoneblck @fangirl--writes

Masterlist

I stayed and inspected my new room for a little while. It was very nice, but quite plain. But Mr Wilde had said he’d left it for me to decorate, and I couldn’t wait.  The en suite had a shower, a sink and a toilet in it. It even had a bath. Mr Wilde had been kind enough to provide me with some lovely soaps and shampoos. They were a matching set of rose scented bath products that looked high quality and certainly expensive. It seemed everything around me now was high quality and expensive. It was going to take some getting used to.

I decided I’d seen enough for now and left the room. I pinpointed where I was on the maps and walked back towards the nice lounge room Mr Wilde had sat me in before. There had been a lot of books in there and I was curious about them. On my way, I noticed there were even more security cameras on nearly every wall. I thought it was weird how obsessed with security this guy was and unnerving that all these cameras were watching me.

I put it out of my mind and continued walking, concentrating on not getting lost. When I got to the lounge room, Ecco was in there cleaning away the tea tray. I knocked nervously on the door to announce myself.

“Hello?”  

“Hello. Are you looking for Mr Wilde?” She asked. She seemed friendly enough, but I was still put off her from earlier.

“No. Actually I thought I might read something.” I answered.

“Be careful. Some of these books are very old.” She said picking, up the tea tray. “My name is Ecco, Mr Wildes assistant.”

“Yeah, he mentioned it earlier.”

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come find me.” Ecco headed out into the maze leaving me alone in the lounge room. She seemed friendly enough, but there was something off putting about her.

I decided not to think about it right now and dropped my maps down on the coffee table. I wandered around looking at the tall, wide, wooden bookshelves. There were two either side of the fireplace on the right wall and three standing against the left wall, with a small table with a drawer in between the first two. It was the same dark wood as the shelves and the drawer had a keyhole in it. I gave it slight tug and found it was locked. I wondered what was in it?

The furthest wall also had two bookshelves. These were either side a writing desk and chair of the same style, with equally locked drawers. The only wall in this room that didn’t have a bookshelf on it was the one behind the sofa. It was practically a library.

“The guy reads then.”  

I settled one of the bookshelves on the right side of the fireplace, closest to the sofa and scanned the shelves.  

Bunker Archaeology: Texts and Photos, Individual and Environment, Something Wicked This Way Comes, Behavioural Genetics, The Existential Pleasures of Engineering, Twelfth Night, Applied Cryptography, Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, The Life of P.T Barnum, Heredity, Environment and Personality: A Study of 850 Sets of Twins

Excuse me?

“Ahem.”

My browsing was interrupted by someone behind me. I spun around and saw Ecco standing in the doorway.

“Mr Wilde would like to see you.”  

“Oh... sure.”

I followed Ecco through the winding maze. The security cameras still creeped me out. I wondered if I’d ever get used to them? Then Ecco stopped. I almost barged into her, not being able to look away from them.

“Here.” She gestured.

I crept into the room silently. It was dimly lit inside; the only real light was coming from a few lamps and the many buzzing monitor screens showing the halls of the maze. I guessed they were hooked up to all the cameras. The room looked to be some kind of study. Almost every surface was cluttered in papers, blueprints and notebooks and design ideas, plan drafts and sticky notes covered the walls.

I don’t think Jeremiah noticed me come in. He was standing, hunched, over a desk, concentrating hard on something. He was muttering, to himself, under his breath and scribbling furiously away with a pencil. At the speed he was going, I was unsure anything he was writing would even be intelligible.

I thought maybe, I should leave and come back later. Maybe he’d changed his mind about wanting to see me? He hadn’t acknowledged me yet and he seemed busy, so I turned to leave.

“Wait.”  

I heard his cold voice behind me and heard the clink of the pencil being dropped onto the desk. I turned back around to face him. He was standing straight up now and looking at me with a blank expression, which made me a little uneasy.

“Close the door please.” He said, walking out from behind the desk.  

My stomach dropped at the thought of it. Being alone with him in this dark, cramped room unsettled me enough with the door open. Regardless, I did as I was asked. I suppose fear made me obedient. Jeremiah had picked up a crystal decanter and was pouring himself a glass of, what looked like, whiskey. Probably another high quality and expensive purchase.

He stood there, looking at me, tapping his fingers along the tumbler in his hand. Just looking at me.

��Ecco said you wanted to see me.”  

“Yes. I called you in here because I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier.”

I was a little shocked. I hadn’t imagined he’d be the type to give anyone a genuine apology for anything. Let alone to me.  

“I realise, back at the orphanage, that I was unforgivably rude and caused the occasion to be a much more distressing situation that it should have been. I get tense when I leave the security of the bunker, especially to go into the city. But what I’m trying to say is that I was wrong to act that way and I apologise.”

I was dumbstruck. I hadn’t expected anything like that from him. He seemed sincere and as if he actually meant every word.

“Thank you.”  

He took a sip from his whiskey and walked back around to his work. I stood there for a little while, unsure of what to do. Did he want me to leave? Or was there something else? I took a few cautious steps closer to his desk so I could see what he was staring at.

“What’re you working on?” I asked.

“It’s a generator.” He replied, taking another drink. “Or at least it will be.”

“Oh... Yeah I... I should’ve seen that.” I forced, attempting to joke.

Jeremiah didn’t seem to appreciate it, because his only reply was more silence. I looked around at a few more of the papers, not daring to touch or move any, and soon enough the heavy silence lingering in the air became too much.

“Should I leave now?” I asked, gesturing to the door.

“If you like.” He didn’t even bother to look up, so I took it as my cue.

On my way back to the door, I ran through the apology in my head and remembered what I’d promised my sisters.

“I would like to write them, Mr Wilde.” I said, prompting Jeremiah to look up at me. “Can I?”

He downed the rest of his whiskey and landed the empty glass heavily onto the desk, before turning around to pull a sticky note off the wall.

“Use this as the return address.” He handed the note out to me and I took it gingerly. “I’ll have Ecco bring you some stationary.”  

He picked the pencil back up and returned to his work.

“Thank you.”

I left for the door once again, reading the sticky note.  

Meyer and Hayes.

“And please.” He called. “My name is Jeremiah.”

[suttttton]

An Invitation

How do you get Jonathan Sims to go on a date with you? Easy. Step one: Trick him by giving him a fake statement filled with puzzles that lead him to the date location of your choice. Step two: Profit?

---

“Jon,” Sasha says, leaning against his desk.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up from his work.

“D’you want to get lunch with me today?” she asks. It’s just a casual question. They’ve gotten lunch together before, and she knows that Jon won’t interpret her question in a romantic way, but her stomach still thrums with nervousness. It’s… different, now that she’s decided to let herself have a crush on him. Now that she’s decided that, eventually, she’ll ask him on a real date.

He doesn’t even look at her, just shakes his head. “Can’t, I’m a bit swamped this week. I’ve got a lot of—things…” he trails off, drawn back into his work. The exciting world of follow-up research. She stands there for another minute, just watching him, knowing that he has forgotten her entirely. It’s one of those things that should be annoying, but is really just… deeply endearing. Ugh.

She’s going to ask him on that date soon.

***

When she asks Jon out, she tries to be obvious about it. Jon has a hard time reading social signals at the best of times, and she wants to make things easy for him. She’s not the most comfortable with grand gestures, but she’s got a bit theater kid in her yet, and she’s sure she can make it work.

She finds Jon in the break room, eating a bowl of microwavable soup and staring blankly at nothing. Very adorable. She knocks twice on the table, getting his attention, and he blinks once and smiles at her.

“Jon, there’s something I want to ask you,” she says. She can feel heat rising in her face. God, this is about to be embarrassing. She really, really hopes he doesn’t turn her down. (Why would he turn you down, James? You’re a catch.)

She gets on one knee, takes his hand. “Jonathan Sims,” she says dramatically. “Would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me on Friday?”

He looks at her, and his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry Sasha,” he says, “but I can’t. I requested some books, and they’re supposed to arrive Friday. I was planning to get started on them Friday evening.”

She sighs. She’d take it as a graceful rejection, if she hadn’t seen Jon reject people before. He got nervous and stuttery and hyper-apologetic. He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable now, just confused as to why she’s on the floor.

He doesn’t know that she’s trying to ask him on a date.

Later, replaying the scene in her mind, she realizes what the problem was. They were at work. Even with her making it as dramatic as possible, the environment was too casual. She asked him to do platonic activities with her all the time while they were at work—why would he assume differently?

She needs to ask him when they aren’t at the Institute, somewhere where she can make a whole presentation of it. She’ll buy him flowers, sweep him off his feet.

Except.

He keeps turning down her offers to spend time together. When he isn’t busy with follow-up, he’s busy researching the Leitner books. It’s… stupidly endearing. And unhealthy. Jon doesn’t look unwell, really, but he does look… stressed, hunched over his desk all day. Jon needs a break from work, not just so she can ask him on a date, but also so he doesn’t drive himself into a nervous breakdown.

Sasha hatches a plan.

***

It doesn’t take long to put together. Just an evening, researching cryptic puzzles, scouting out locations that aren’t too far from the Institute, writing a nonsensical statement in the ‘I saw a ghost in a graveyard and it was spooky’ vein.

The only problem is how to get the fake statement into Jon’s caseload without him noticing. She can’t just drop it on his desk, not with him there all day long. She could get Lydia involved, but she isn’t sure the Head of Research would approve of her plan, and even if she did, Lydia is a bad liar. Jon would know something was up.

In the end, Jon solves the problem for her. He leans back in his chair, hisses over to her, “Sasha! Swap with me?”

“Spiders?” she asks, and he winces, nods. She holds out her hand, and flicks through the offending file. It has all the hallmarks of a false statement, but—

“I felt thousands of legs swarming over me, filling up my mouth, my nose—”

She snaps the folder shut, wrinkling her nose. “No problem,” she says. She hands Jon the fake statement. “You can take this one, I haven’t gotten started on it yet.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling. Her stomach flips, and she watches for a few moments longer as he gets to work.

***

It would be suspicious for her to be staring at Jon the entire time he’s working on the statement, so instead she just glances over every once in a while, making sure he doesn’t immediately drop the statement in the ‘discredited’ pile.

He doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens as he’s drawn in, trying to figure out the puzzle she’s left for him. The statement is clearly fake, but a few of the words are—wrong. Nonsensical. Gibberish.

She sees Jon go over and over the text, marking every strange word. Then he picks up his phone, dials the number listed on the statement. It’s a disconnected number, and Jon’s frown deepens.

He thinks for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on his desk. Then he pulls out a notepad, begins writing on it, consulting the statement to transcribe the strange words exactly.

At that point, Sasha knows she has him. Jon loves puzzles, and now that he knows there’s a puzzle to solve in the statement, he’s not going to stop until he figures it out.

It’s a simple Caesar cipher, with the phone number as its key. It yields the message:

Here are the coordinates:

CH.HCGDHCGFYERE, -HB.KGICCECIF0WI

In order to crack the coordinates, Jon simply has to replace each letter with its numerical position in the alphabet. Jon is smart, he’ll figure it out. The coordinates belong to a cryptid-themed restaurant in America called the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille.

Once, the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grill website landing page contained several blurry photos of “Moth Man,” along with a somehow even blurrier photo of a restaurant menu. Now, it’s a nightmarish jumble of the strangest stock photos Sasha could find, along with a single hyperlink that just says, “Click me!”

(Sasha included this step because she finds it deeply entertaining to watch Jon click on the shadiest links possible. It’s revenge for all the viruses she’s had to clean off his computer.)

The link leads to a much more tasteful webpage. It’s has a single picture of a rose on it, and below that it just says, “An Invitation”. Then it gives the address of a very cute little cafe just a short walk from the Institute. Beneath that, “Tonight. 7:00pm.”

It takes about an hour for Jon to figure out the Caesar cipher, and after that he works through the puzzle quickly. It’s a delight, watching his face when he sees “Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille,” and even better when he sees the monstrosity she’s made of their website.

He clicks the link without even a second of hesitation, which almost makes Sasha laugh out loud. And then he’s just staring at the invitation. He opens a new tab, opens Google Maps, puts in the address. She sees the back-in-forth in his head—‘Tonight’ has probably long since passed, and he isn’t likely to find anything if he shows up at the cafe at 7:00pm tonight.

But Jon is stubborn, and if he doesn’t go ‘Tonight,’ it’ll eat at him. She’s trapped him. He’ll show up. She’s certain of it.

***

She debates for a long time if she should wear a dress, or a button-up shirt and tie. She decides on the tie. It has ferns on it, and she needs the calming vibes.

It’s starting to sink in, what she’s done.

Why didn’t she just say, “Jon, I am asking you on a date”? That would have been so much easier! Christ, she’s tricked her crush into going on a date with her. What kind of creep does that?

She’s terrified Jon will be angry with her. Or worse, hurt. This whole thing is technically a prank. What if Jon thinks she’s just… making fun of him?

She stops by a flower shop on her way there, and the shop assistant asks what she needs, and she’s so nervous by then that she actually says, “I tricked my friend into going on a date with me, and I need flowers that will prevent him from hating me forever.”

“Right,” the man says, uncertainly. “Well—” And then he makes Sasha a very, very nice arrangement because, unlike Sasha, he isn’t a complete mess.

Sasha arrives at the cafe thirty minutes early, because she knows Jon. She knows he’ll want to stake out the place ahead of time. She knows she has to arrive ridiculously early to beat him there.

But apparently, she’s underestimated him because he’s already there.

He’s seated at a table in the corner, where he can see the entire dining room. He’s still wearing his clothes from work, and there’s a pastry in front of him.

He’s watching the door, of course he is, so he sees her come in.

“Sasha!” he calls, waving wildly at her. It makes something pang in her chest, that Jon’s instinct upon seeing her in a public place is to excitedly greet her. She certainly isn’t that kind of person.

She smiles, walks over to him. Her fingers are curled tightly around the flowers, crinkling the paper just slightly.

“Do you have a date tonight?” he asks, looking her over, his eyes still flicking back and forth between her and the door.

“I hope so,” she says.

He frowns. “Are they late? Or—”

She hands him the flowers. “These are for you.”

He looks at them, bewildered, then back at Sasha. “What—”

“The invitation was from me,” Sasha says, sitting down across from him. “I faked the statement, and I made the puzzles.”

He stares at her for moment, then at the flowers, then back at her. She waits for him to yell at her, or run off, or—she doesn’t know.

Then he starts laughing. It’s—wonderful, when he laughs. He always tries to hide his face, and this time he decides to use the flowers for that purpose, stifling his giggles against the petals. “Sasha, I—I thought it was going to be the, the Mob, or something.”

Sasha can’t help but start laughing too. “You thought the Mob sent secret messages to each other using a Caesar cipher?”

“I don’t know!” Jon says. “This is—” He lets out a long breath. “Well, I did enjoy the—game, I suppose.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Wait,” Jon says. “So I’m your date?”

“If you want to be,” Sasha says.

Jon smiles. “I—” He laughs again. “Yes. Of course I do.”

[jimlingss]

Game of Temptation

➜ Words: 16k

➜ Genres: 60% Smut, 35% Angst, 5% Fluff, Succubus!AU

➜ Summary: As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it's still hard to resist Taehyung, and there's little you can do once you've been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don't know your intentions are far from being angelic.

➜ Warning: seduction, sex, homewrecking, infidelity, daddy kink, creampie, etc. There were no morals in the making of this fic. I do not subscribe to my characters’ beliefs, y'all. It's just some crazy fiction. Reader discretion advised.

It’s your chance to have a little fun, peach.   The four wheels of the luggage roll against the smooth pavement, over the cracks and up the massive driveway. The sweltering sun isn’t a bother when the feeling of flames licking against your cheeks is such a familiarity. Yet, you still feel disgruntled as Taehyung’s words ring inside your head.   I know you want to try your hand at it. And you’ve been telling me how much you want a little subordinate of your own. You could do whatever you want with them. There are no rules.   He’s a bastard. If it wasn’t for you being so wrapped around his finger and dancing in the palm of his hand, you would never do something this ridiculous. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. Taehyung’s words of persuasion act like you do have a choice when in reality, he mocks.   Yet, in spite of what you might really think, you continue on your way, lugging your heavy baggage up the stairs and steadying your breath. Feeling a sense of calmness, the pad of your index finger presses the doorbell. You listen to how the sound echoes inside the enormous manor.   There’s shouting, footsteps, and a second later, the door swings open.   There’s a plump woman with an apron tied over her body, her gray streaked hair pulled back into a bun. She’s out of breath as she is fatigued even though it’s only eight in the morning. But she still greets you with a smile that spreads into her chubby cheeks. “Hello! You must be the new live-in nanny and housemaid! Come in, come in. Don’t just stand out here! It’s so cold!”   She helps drag in your luggage.    The large foyer opens up to a grand staircase, two archways on both sides that allow you to peek into the chandeliered and golden curtain rooms. There’s antique china in a display case and vases on tables — more to paint a picture of wealth than for any actual purpose. But while one would expect a quiet and proper home, there’s chaos instead. Feet rumbling from upstairs. Sharp laughter and exhausted sighs. Noises of shouting and screaming.    “You’re younger than I expected. What’s your name?”   “Y/N, madam.”   “Oh, I’m not the madam,” the woman giggles at the thought and bats the air with her hand. “The madam isn’t as old as I am. I’m the Kim’s housekeeper, Ms. Yoo. We’ll be working close together. Have you eaten yet? The trip must’ve been long and tiring. Would you like to rest?”   The corner of your lips quirk. “I’m alright, thank you.”   “I’ll give you a tour around then. The faster you can become accustomed to this home, the faster you can help out.”   You nod, but before she can get in another word, there’s thundering stomps down the stairs.    A boy’s face pokes through the banisters and he gives a toothless grin. Not more than five years old, he wears a blue, collared shirt and khaki shorts, one foot with a sock and the other without — he’s no doubt a spoiled, little brat.   The kid makes a ruckus while running down the rest of the steps, jumping from the last three and he comes up to you, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks up. “Who’re you?”   You lower yourself and offer a soft smile. “I’m going to be your daddy and mommy’s new little helper. We’re going to have lots of fun from now on.”   “Jaesun! Jaesun, get back here! What did I say about slamming your bedroom door?!”   A frail woman with grating vocal cords comes down the stairs as well. Her chest is rising and falling, evidently winded from her son but her eyes visibly light up when she sees you.    “You must be Y/N, aren’t you?” She’s a pretty woman with few wrinkles even in her forties, dressed cleanly in a rosy blouse and white skirt. But her dark circles ruin the pristine image.    “Yes, I am, madam.”   She shakes your hand vigorously. She looks at you like you’re her guardian angel. An irony that tickles your senses. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I’m Kim Yijin, my husband is Kim Namjoon, but we should head to the kitchen to talk. There’s not much time left.”   The housekeeper smiles. “Yes, I was about to show her the way.”   “Let’s go, Jaesun.” You offer your hand to the boy and he happily takes it, something that Yijin doesn’t miss and even grins at.    The kitchen is twice the size of the foyer, two stove sets and two refrigerators side by side. The counter space is enough to stretch your entire body across and you can only marvel at the surroundings.    “I hope you don’t get too overwhelmed,” Yijin says as she turns to get her coffee started and Ms. Yoo sets out breakfast for Jaesun at the table. “But I should tell you now before I forget to. My family eats a gluten-free diet. Our Jaesun is lactose and tolerant, so he’s only to have soy milk and calcium-fortified orange juice. My daughter has poor digestion, so try to avoid whole-grains when you’re preparing the meals.” She stops for a second, lamenting, “and she has such bad skin these days, so avoid milk and anything bad, like instant noodles, even if she begs for it. The girl doesn’t know what’s good and bad for her.”   With her steaming coffee cup in hand, Yijin waltzes around the kitchen, forcing you to follow her whims.   “Make sure the kids have at least three servings of fruits and vegetables. My husband doesn’t like eggs and Jaesun isn’t supposed to have candy. Also, this is less important, but I really like fried foods that aren’t too oily, so if you have anything you can make…”   The corners of your lips lift. “I have a fried chicken recipe.”   “I like you already.” She snaps her fingers, smile brightening. She looks over to the older lady, calling out to her, “Ms. Yoo, I can get breakfast ready for today. Would you like to continue showing Y/N around?”   “Yes, I will.”    Even when you could tell from the outside, the house is grand. It’s a closed concept, full of mahogany wood panels, twisting halls, oak doors and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looks like a place Taehyung would enjoy.    “Every day, we meal prep breakfast, lunch and dinner. Typically only the master of the house is here for lunch, so we have to watch our portions. He works a lot from home. Oh, his younger brother is also living here for some time. He’s an editor, so he’s quite busy. I tend to deliver his meal to his room if he doesn’t come down for dinner.”   You nod, entering the living room.    There’s a giant family photo above the mantel that looks all too artificial — stiff smiles and pressed clothes with a white background. But the space is warmed with cedar bookshelves, a coffee table to match and perfectly positions cushion chairs. In one of them is a sleepy man with dark hair, sipping on a mug as he reads the newspaper.   He looks up at you, features more tender than expected.   “Hello.” You dip your head to the so-called younger brother, keeping your voice soft-spoken.   “Mr. Kim, this is our new helper,” the housekeeper introduces.   “Yes.” His voice is also surprisingly husky. “I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”   The two of you stare at one another until you dip your head as Mrs. Yoo keeps going and you leave the room, walking upstairs.   “We dust every day and clean the kitchen each night. Every other day, we do laundry and vacuum the rooms. The living space and foyer get especially dirty, so we have to stay vigilant. If your back ever aches from hunching over so much, tell me and I’ll give you some cream and heated pads.”   A door down the hall shuts and there’s an audible sigh. What follows are footsteps and a teenage girl in an ironed school uniform, backpack on her back. Her black hair is sleek, ending at her waist and in spite of puffy cheeks, her eyes are cat-like.    “Good morning, Sohee. Sleep well?”   “I guess.” As her pupils dart from the housekeeper to you, her steps slow and she halts altogether.   You lock your gaze with her and smile. “Hello. I’m the new housemaid, Y/N.”   You extend your arm, but she dwells — staring like a deer in headlights.   It takes a moment for Sohee to come to her senses and she shakes your hand while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly murmurs, “O-oh. Nice to meet you.”   “Sohee!” There’s a sudden screech of her name from downstairs, grating to the ears. Immediately, the young girl deflates.   “Coming!” she shouts back to her mom with a groan, rolling her eyes before running down the stairs.   The housekeeper smiles sympathetically. “Sohee’s going through a bit of a growth spurt, so she’s been a bit sensitive lately.” You nod and she continues, “We clean the bathrooms once a week and once a month, we wash the carpets. Your room is just this way.”   Down the corridor is a small mahogany door. But there’s grandiose double doors with golden handles right where the hall begins from the open area. And your strides reduce. You linger from curiosity and peer through the crack with an eye. Vaguely, you’re able to make out bookshelves and an imposing desk. More importantly, there’s someone seated in the leather seat behind it.   Mrs. Yoo notices. “Oh, that’s master Kim’s office, but there’s no need to bother him right now.”   Your body moves a little too late. While you’re still peeping through, the man behind the desk raises his head. Your eyes meet, but you leave before either of you can get a good look at each other.   The room you’re given is a meager space — more like a closet compared to the rest of the house. You hold in your scoff, looking around at the single bed. The empty desk. The tiny window with dead bugs on the sill. The wooden chair with splinters sticking out of it. It looks like antiques shoved in a shed. Not even Taehyung treats you this poorly.   “The bathroom is across from your room, so it’s rather convenient!”   You set your luggage down.   “Also, you’ll be watching Jaesun when he comes home from kindergarten. You’ll wash him and put him to bed as well. I’ll help you out until you get the hang of things, so don’t worry too much.”   You wonder if the old lady ever shuts up, but you keep your voice soft-spoken and your demeanour timid. “Thank you.”   “It’s not an issue.” Ms. Yoo pats your shoulder. “Oh, you can get settled a little later on. We should help the madam with breakfast. She doesn’t cook very well.”   It’s possible to get lost in this abyss of a house. There are endless halls and pompous rooms. You don’t understand the purpose of having a large music room next to a drawing room, but you suppose with this much money, it’s fun to throw it into a blazing fire.   The housekeeper continues yapping away as you make it back downstairs. But on your way, you catch a different individual standing in the foyer. Someone in a black suit with doe eyes, boyish features that draw you in.    He seems surprised to see you too.   “Ah, Jungkook! Have you eaten yet? Would you like a coffee?”   “I’m fine, Ms. Yoo.” He has a cute smile full of teeth and his eyes flicker to you. “This is...?”   “Oh, it’s the new helper I was telling you about. Y/N, this is Jungkook, Mr. Kim’s personal chauffeur. He’s been working with this family for almost as long as I’ve been here.”   “Not that long,” Jungkook retorts mischievously. “I only started here a few years ago after I finished school.”   “Only? Oh my. Feels like you started here thirty years ago like I did! Time goes by so fast!”   “Only when you’re having fun.” Jungkook grins and then redirects his attention towards you, clearing his throat. “I-It’s nice to meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand and dip your head with a tiny smile. He averts his vision too, becoming shy. Yet, when you lift your head, your eyes meet each other’s. You can feel the way his hand is getting sweaty, but you let it linger for a longer amount of time than necessary. Until you’re the one to let go.   He’s too cute.   You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.   The tension between the pair of you is only broken when a voice coughs from the top of the staircase and Jungkook breaks apart from you, taking a step back. You look up at the master, Kim Namjoon. A man in his forties, tall with a commanding aura. His hair is styled neatly, thick glasses sitting on his face, sharply dressed in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams of new money.   “Good morning, Mr. Kim.”   He hums at the housekeeper. “Good morning, Ms. Yoo. This must be the new helper. It’s nice to meet you.” The man comes down and visibly inspects you, as if trying to figure you out and only looks away when he’s satisfied. “I hope you’ll do a good job.”   “Yes, sir.”   “Are you going already, daddy?” Sohee comes from the kitchen, crestfallen. The volume of her voice is quiet and tapers off, “You’re not going to have breakfast with us...?”   “I don’t have time today.” The words tumble out and he looks at his phone. Ms. Yoo opens the door as he answers a call outside.    You look over at Sohee who’s become dejected. Her shoulders have slumped and her hair falls in front of her face. She pouts and tries to hide it. But Jungkook smiles softly and ruffles her hair.   “Don’t be so sad. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?”   “Really?” Sohee looks up at him, eyes gradually brightening and her cheeks becoming rosy.   He nods. “I’ll make sure to come early.”   “I’ll have to cook more eggs then,” the housekeeper chortles and Jungkook grins until his eyes travel to you. The glance turns into a gaze and neither of you speak until Ms. Yoo turns. “Come on, Y/N! We can’t dawdle all day now.”   “Yes,” you murmur and follow after her, all too aware of Jungkook’s stare on your backside as Sohee still talks without him really listening. Once you turn the corner, the older woman pauses and your brow cocks. “Is….there something the matter?”   She smiles endearingly at you and shakes her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. You’re just very beautiful, that’s all.”

The house is chaotic.   Before going to bed, Ms. Yoo gave you one piece of furniture to add to the sad collection — an alarm clock. And it blares with red digits reading that it’s five in the morning. Lugging yourself up, you’re bombarded with chores. From laundry to wiping down windows and making the bed.   “Excuse me.” You knock against the door and there’s a muffled ‘come in’.   Yoongi sits at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a red pen in his hand. His room is similar to yours, cramped and modest, but with a larger window and mattress, and a proper wardrobe and closet.   The man in his pajamas doesn’t look at you. “You can leave it there,” he mumbles and you set his tray of breakfast food on his nightstand.    Your eyes linger on his slouching form. But he never turns around, so you leave.   The noise and bickering from the kitchen can already be heard from the stair landing. The stove top fan is blasted while Ms. Yoo fries eggs, Jaesun sitting at the table with his legs swinging and spitting his cereal all over the place as he plays make-belief with his robot, but most of all—   “Why won’t you let me go?” Sohee is standing by her mother, exasperation and the furrow of her brows ruining her otherwise innocent exterior. “It’s only Yeeun’s house! And you already know her mom!”   “I already said that she isn’t a good influence on you!”   “We’re only studying! I don’t get why you don’t like her!”   “Her family is lower than ours.” Yijin forces herself to become calmer and feeds Jaesun a spoonful of yogurt as he plays. She glances at her daughter after a moment. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d become friends with Lee Sunmi. At least they have something to offer us. And are you going to eat that bagel? It’s filled with cream cheese. We have to watch your weight, remember?”   “Why are you always picking on me?” The girl drops her choice of breakfast and cries, “What about Jaesun?!”   “Are you going to compare yourself to your brother?” She gives her an astonished look full of disbelief, tinged with disappointment. “He’s only five.”   Sohee is frustrated to no end. “I hate you all!” She screams and stomps away as you resume slicing the strawberries, eyes lifting every so often. You watch as Jungkook enters the kitchen at the same time Sohee’s leaving. She pauses for a second but then pushes past him.   Her mother screams after her. “Sohee! Are you not going to eat at all?! That girl! So rude.”   In the meanwhile, Ms. Yoo reads the expression on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry. They never argue for too long.”   “Shouldn’t we at least say something?”   She shakes her head. “I’ve tried to get involved a few times, but it never helped much. Better to keep quiet. Every family argues.”   The housekeeper finishes up in the kitchen while Yijin settles down and sips on her coffee as she scrolls through her phone. She asks for a plate of fruits from Ms. Yoo and at the same time, you notice Jaesun scooping his cereal and purposely spilling it on the ground. No one notices.   It sloshes into a pile.   You hold in your cusses and grab a rag.   The five year old realizes he’s been caught in the act and grins like a little shit. You get on the floor, scrubbing the mess. But the moment the floorboards are back to brown again, there’s another splatter of milk by your hand and a spoonful of cereal flakes that follow. It splashes on your hair and apron and you raise your head to find the little shit plastered with a ginormous smile.   “Done eatin’!” He announces, scooting back his chair before running off in giggles.   May Satan have mercy on the child before you tear his limbs apart.   The minute you’re finished scrubbing the floor and clearing the table, you go off to find the brat. Because god forbid there’s a scratch on him.    You find him in the hallway between the laundry room and garage. “What do you think you’re doing?!”   There’s a bright red crayon in his tight fist. And he’s scribbling all across the wall while laughing at a piercing volume. At the sight of you, Jaesun draws a line as hard as he can until his knuckles are white, bits of wax are sprinkling and the crayon is a half the size it used to be.   The kid runs away before you can snatch him.   Much to your dismay, Ms. Yoo merely smiles in endearment when you tell her. “Kids like to have so much fun, don’t they? I remember when my son was at that age, he was such a troublemaker too. But it’s nothing a little baking soda can’t fix!”   You end up on your knees, scrubbing the wall with a damp rag dipped in the white powder.   You’re humiliating and exhausted.    Taehyung was wrong — there’s nothing fun about this whatsoever. You swear to God you’re going to murder someone.   “How are you doing?”   You look up, discovering doe eyes and pink lips quirked at you. Jungkook is dressed in his suit that’s a bit too big for him, hands dug into the pants pockets as he glances at the wall. You smile at him, brushing away the strand of your hair that came loose from your bun.   It’s not too bad of a time to be sweating. To allow the beads to roll down the nape of your neck.   “It’s tiresome, but nothing I can’t do.”   “I’m assuming this is Jaesun’s little artwork project.”   “Who else could it be?”   Jungkook grins boyishly. “Once he decided to paint the inside the car using the leather seats as his canvas.”   “Why don’t they ever discipline him?” you ask genuinely, tilting your head up at him and he matches the playful glint in your eyes before shrugging.   “Probably because he’s the youngest and the only son, so it’s natural they spoil him.”   “But this is a bit much, isn’t it?” You shake your head, voice pitching upwards into a whine. The irritation was leaking through the facade you’ve created, but all it does is make Jungkook’s grin widen.   “It is. You know—”   “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name in a screeching voice. “Can you come here for a second?”   “Yes!” For the most part, the crayon is taken off and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look over to Jungkook as a tiny smile appears on your features. “See you.”   “Y-Yeah.”   His eyes linger on you as you leave.   “I’m about to be late for work, so can you please bring this up to my husband?” Yijin hands you a wooden tray with a tall glass of some sort of sludgy green liquid filled to the rim. The drink stinks of kale and lettuce. You wonder if she’s trying to poison him. “He hasn’t gotten anything to eat yet and I’m worried. That man never takes care of himself properly. Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if you could Jaesun dressed. Don’t know where he’s run off to.”   You nod and balance the drink up the stairs before coming to the familiar grandiose doors.   You knock timidly.   There’s a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment, one that signifies he’s inside but preoccupied. Still, you push the parted doors open and come forward with the tray. Namjoon never looks up at you, busy studying the files of documents.   The room is warmer than expected, oaks and mahogany, paintings and bookshelves, a large desk that reminds you of a judge’s bench — imposing, commanding. Not unlike him. There’s a fireplace, two leather sofas facing each other and a coffee table in between, and above the mantle is another family portrait that exudes a kind of stiff perfection.   You place the glass down on his disorganized desk, eyes peering up at the man. As you retract your arm, your skin brushes against a stack of papers and they’re knocked to the ground. He whips his head over, brow cocked.   “I’m so sorry, sir,” you whimper. As you frantically pick them up, you bend over in front of him.   “It’s fine.” You feel his eyes linger on your rounded behind before he looks at his document again. You mask a smirk. Namjoon mutters from the corner of his mouth, “Where are you from?”    You purposely pause so he directs his attention to you again.   “I grew up in the countryside not far from here, sir.” You hold the tray to your stomach, presenting a timid disposition as if his gaze weighs heavily on you.   “And what did you do before you took this job?”   “I was in university, sir, but I’m taking a break to save some money.”   The man gives a pleasant nod. “What was your major?”   “Education, sir.” You divert your vision elsewhere, but a sweet smile pulls on your lips. “I would love to become a teacher someday.”   He hums in approval, “I could see you doing that.”   “Daddy?” The conversation is interrupted by Sohee at the door. She’s dressed in her school uniform, but is nowhere near ready to step into a classroom with the way she’s teary-eyed and her voice croaks with a lump in her throat. “Mom’s not letting me study with Yeeun!”   Namjoon exhales exhaustingly. He sits back in his leather chair, looking at the ceiling. Sohee’s eyes stings at how she’s evidently annoying her father. But you don’t dwell, bowing your head and dismissing yourself.   //   You would’ve never picked up this job unless you had to. Not even for the useless money.   You detest education. Never did well, never had fun, never got along with anyone. Be a teacher? You could scoff ten times over. You hate children. You hate kids. They’re absolute brats. Noisy at their best and tormentors at their worst. There’s only a few perks to this job.   Like right now.   “I’m glad to be of service,” Jungkook breathlessly laughs.    His hot breath ghosts along your cheek while your legs wrap and lock around his waist.   A comfortable darkness surrounds you. The moonlight cascades through the small window, enough that you can see his handsome profile. And the slick, obscene sounds are covered by the dryer machine still rumbling underneath you. It has the last load of towels the housekeeper wanted to get done tonight — and it’s also helping Jungkook release his load into you.   The vibrations of the dryer flow through your body, adding to his raw strokes and the moans choking out of you. It didn’t take much to convince him to sneak away. The one-dimensional family is completely oblivious too, sleeping upstairs in their warm beds. You’re tempted to whine Jungkook’s name louder and make one of them investigate. You wonder what the look on their face would be if they found their little maid and chauffeur fucking in the laundry room.   Jungkook tugs down your dress further and gently noses your hardened nipple before his mouth travels upwards to the juncture of your neck. You feel his lips suck into your soft skin, but the fingers sunk into his dark hair tightens and you pull his head back.   He gives a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes pinned on your face.   You writhe against his hard chest every time his thick cock drags out of your walls. He’s bigger than you expected. Eager too. Jungkook is a healthy and young one, hips and strokes fluid albeit a bit fast and excited.    You can tell he likes you a lot.   “I-I would’ve never guessed you hated kids.” The boy watches how his cock enters you and disappears. Your pussy clenches around him and he sweats at his hairline, trying to hold back from cumming so soon.   “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sing-song cutely and roughly pull him in by his shoulders, batting your lashes. “Can you kiss me, please, Jungkookie?”   He nods enthusiastically and leans in to nose your cheek. Then, he tilts his head and your mouth meets his. Your lips immediately part to welcome him deeper and his hands force your thighs farther apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Jungkook’s tongue licks into your hot mouth, making you moan.    Yet, the kiss is somehow sweet. Much too pure for someone like you.   The two of you break apart, lips wet with his spit. “I-I’m close.”   Jungkook’s strokes start to lose their rhythm. They become frantic. Frenzied. He can feel the shaking of the dryer jumping beneath you, how tight and wet you are around him.   You watch him through hooded eyes, tempted to coo at him and tell him that he can do it — encourage him that he can release his load right into your womb. But not wanting to ruin his fun moment, you instead squeeze as tight as you can.    Jungkook groans, hips jerking and he plunges deep inside your cunt to cum.    He gives two more thrusts. His entire body trembles and he realizes you’re still unfinished. Even with half a mind, he has the courtesy to lick his thumb and rub at your clit. You writhe with moans of his name, holding him close and a few seconds later, you get to where you want to be.   As you come down from your high, you pet him. “Good boy. Thanks for that.”   “Y-You’re so pretty.”   “Am I?” you hum and he nods madly.   Jungkook’s sticky breath heaves, chest rising and falling and you wrap your arms possessively around his shoulders. Whining incoherently, he understands that you’re pleading for another kiss. He happily obliges and you angle your head to deepen it. The kiss is lazier. Languid. Giving you a chance to taste him properly.   Jungkook starts to groan when you don’t pull away after thirty seconds.   He tries to part, losing oxygen. But you keep him in your tight grip. And you inhale.   It’s delicious. It fills you with a sense of euphoria, making goosebumps raise all over the back of your arms. It’s been a while since you’ve had a soul for yourself. And as it leaves his body, you feel him go limp around you.   Jungkook falls to the tiled floor, leaving a sopping mess at your center.   “Would you look at that?” A deep timbre sounds. He appears, manifesting himself across from you with the corpse in between. The corner of his thin lip is curled as if he’s impressed. His blonde hair looks white in the milky moonlight and the darkness causes his piercing brown eyes to glow. “Not too bad, peach.”   “It’s so easy, it’s not even fun.” You hop down from the dryer machine.   Taehyung’s devilish smirk grows. “That’s because you’re so naturally enticing.”   You roll your eyes.   He comes close, large hands lifting to cradle your cheeks. Taehyung kisses you without much warning — not that you need it — and he licks into your mouth, inhaling deep. He retrieves the soul you took, taking it right from your parted lips.   The two of you part and the thin strand of saliva breaks. Taehyung boops your nose. “I always knew my succubus was a talented one.”   You scoff. “Don’t act like you came here to praise me. You just wanted to collect the soul.”   “Can’t I come here for both?” He lolls his head, another smirk gracing his perfect visage that’s been sculpted by porcelain angel tears. “But it looks like you don’t need my help, so I’ll be on my way.”   Taehyung winks and takes the discarded body on the ground, disappearing with it. He vanishes as quickly as he came.   After he’s gone, you dip your hand between your messy legs.    It’s the last remnants of Jungkook and it’s salty on your palette when you lick your fingers.   //   The mattress is soft against your knees. It cushions and molds against you each time you push down. But still, your wrists strain against the hardened muscles and knots.   Yijin hums, a pleased smile on her face. “A little harder please. And oh, up there. Yes, yes. That’s the spot.”    You continue to massage her, making sure to knead your thumbs into the sweet spots. The madam of the house moans in satisfaction. If she wasn’t so annoying and if her soul wasn’t so bland to you — you would’ve taken it long ago. But well, she might be fun to have around a little longer when you start messing with her family more.    “You’re good,” she hums. “Where did you learn?”   “Here and there. My grandma had a lot of sore muscles, so naturally, I kind of picked it up.”   In reality, Taehyung makes you rub his shoulders all the time.   She looks like she’s enjoying herself, head placed to the side, eyes closed and the corners of her mouth raises. She’s melting under your touch. But even when she’s this relaxed, she still manages to yap.    “It’s been so long since I’ve been treated like this at home. I used to go to the spa often but there’s nothing like a home massage,” Yijin mumbles, “Namjoon used to do it for me all the time before we had kids and then he got busy with work, and well, it’s the reason we have this big house.”   She flips her head to the other side and you rub between her shoulder blades. “I used to be as pretty as you are.”   You keep your voice quiet and meek. “Pardon? You’re still pretty, madam.”   “You don’t need to flatter me.”   “But it’s true…?” Your voice pitches upwards as if you’re incredulous as to how she could think otherwise. “You have a maternal aura about you that I don’t have and you’re an established professional. Women can only dream of having that.”   Peering at her, you catch the way her smile sweetens.   At the same time, her husband enters the bedroom. Sighing and pulling off his tie, he places his briefcase down and moves to the minibar. Namjoon pours himself a glass of whisky and collapses into the white armchair beside the modern standing lamp, thighs spread wide and rather inviting. You look up at him, lashes fluttering in curiosity.   “What’s wrong?” Yijin opens one eye, clearly catching how stressed Namjoon is.   “I found that damn punk’s resignation letter on my desk. He’s gone.” He lifts his glass, taking a long sip of the amber liquid and letting the glass rest between his fingertips.   “Who?”   “Jungkook.”   “What?” Both of Yijin’s eyes peel back, pupils widening in shock. “How could that brat leave without warning?”   “I don’t know.” Namjoon looks to the whiskey, exhaling yet again. “After years of working for us, he upped and disappeared. I guess workers are always like that. Sohee’s been crying and throwing a tantrum. But anyway, I need to hire someone new. I don’t know who’s going to work this far from the city though.”   You continue rubbing Yijin’s back and you feel Namjoon’s gaze traveling to you from his place on the armchair. From the profile of your face, the nape of your neck, to the skin of your thighs that’s exposed from your dress being hiked up so you’re able to kneel on his mattress.   Yijin makes a noise. “Well, there’s nothing we can do. Do you want a massage too? Y/N’s really amazing.”   Namjoon looks away, tearing his eyes from you. “No. I’m fine. I only need to rest a bit before I have to go back to work.”   His wife opens her eyes again and this time, she gets up. You lean back, allowing her to do so.   “Oh my goodness! Your associate is coming for dinner tonight, isn’t he? I almost forgot!” She snaps her fingers and looks at you. “Can you please draw me a bath, Y/N? I have to look presentable.”   //   The business associate is Taehyung.   You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder when you see the blonde seated on the leather sofa as if he owns the place, suit and tie crisp, shoes polished. You don’t know what he’s doing or how he even set himself in their lives, but you suppose you had planted yourself in this household in dubious ways too — with his help, of course. So you don’t question it too much.   “I must say, this house is much more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”   “That’s all thanks to my wife,” Namjoon chuckles, hands clasped together. “She has a better sense of aesthetics than I do.”   Yijin smiles. She’s dressed in another one of her rosy blouses and white skirts, polished without a hair out of place — to both play the role of the perfect wife and appeal to the handsome stranger. “Thank you. I wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago, so it was really fun to try my hand at it even if it’s not much.”   “Nonsense. It’s wonderful. Do you still want to be an interior designer now? You certainly have the skills for it.”   “Oh, no.” She bats the air with her hand. “I lost the dream when I got married and had kids. Plus, I don’t think I could ever work for anyone. It doesn’t really suit me.”   “Ah.” Taehyung leans back, all too comfortable as he is playful. “You prefer reaping the benefits of your husband and enjoying yourself? Can’t say I blame you.”   The corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts while you approach with a bottle of wine, setting the crystal glasses down for them. “You know how women are.”   “On the contrary, they’re the more intelligent ones for letting us do all the work while they take pleasure,” Taehyung says, causing the other man to laugh and agree. You round the table to pour him a glass of wine and Taehyung looks at you with that infamous smirk, but you try to not make eye contact for long. “Thank you.”   You dip your head wordlessly.   “Oh yes.” Yijin perks up. “Thank you for recommending the company that you did. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to hire Y/N.”   “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to help.” He smiles, taking the stem of the wine glass and rotating it to slosh the ruby liquid inside. “I take it she’s a good addition to the house?”   “Yes, she is.”   Taehyung exhales through his nostrils, lips adorned with a devilish smile. “I’m glad.”   You return to the kitchen unscathed, but damning Taehyung in your head for messing with your game. Though your irritation can’t last for long when Ms. Yoo hands you a wooden tray heavy with bowls and dishes. “Can you bring this up to the master’s younger brother? He’ll be having dinner in his room today.”   “Okay.”   You knock on the door. There’s a pause and after a moment, you open it.   Yoongi is in the same spot he was this morning, crouched over his desk with a red pen in hand, papers in front of him and round reading glasses perched on his nose. The curtains are drawn but the glow of the lamp gives him enough luminescence to work.   “You can leave it over there,” he mumbles and you place it on the usual spot.   The man never raises his head or pays any attention to you.   Your brow cocks and you take the tall glass, deciding to bring it to him. “Here’s some water, sir.”   And you purposely waver. The liquid sloshing on the sides and unceremoniously spills onto his lap. Yoongi jolts, arms lifting to save his papers while you sharply gasp. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”   You fall onto your knees and begin dabbing all over his lap and crotch with your apron. Yet your antics doesn’t last for a few seconds before he’s brushing your hand away. “It’s fine. It’s just water.”   You peer up at him through your lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim.”   “I told you to leave it over there,” he grunts, casting a measly glance at you. “But it’s fine. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I have a lot of work to get done.”   You rise to your feet and exit. He’s a harder one to crack. Those little tactics might not be enough, but you’ll get there soon enough. You’re certain of it.   “Y/N?” There’s a strangled whimper and you turn around in the dark corridor to see Sohee emerge from her room. The area underneath her eyes are reddened, nose raw. Her whole body trembles as she sniffles. The girl looks small and vulnerable, almost like a puppy.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask gently, akin to a mother cooing at her child.   Sohee’s eyes flicker up to you. “Did...Jungkook ever tell you anything before he left?”   You shake your head. “No. We were never that close. I’ve only spoken to him a few times.”   She nods. There’s a beat of silence and you lift your hand to caress her hair. The girl is startled but then eases, even leaning into your tender touch. You draw your fingers through her long, straight strands, petting her gently. “I’m sure he left for good reason. Maybe something happened or it was a family emergency. He was always close to you, right?”   Sohee nods again while choked cries come from her. “W-We were family.”   You embrace her, patting her back and she leans on your chest. “You’re not alone, Sohee. You have me now and I won’t ever leave like Jungkook did.”   She squeezes you back.   But the moment is shattered by a grating voice of her mother. “Sohee! Where are you?! Get down here and greet your dad’s friend!”    Her jaw clamps. She parts from you, rubbing her eyes.    You watch her go and she turns around to look at you. You smile at her.   //    “Your maid outfit’s cute.” He appears. A creeping shadow casted against the wall first, then flesh that stitches into the room. You’re resting on your bed, leaning against the headboard and filing your nails one at a time — the yellow glow of the desk lamp giving you barely enough light. “I didn’t get a good look last time.”   “What are you doing, Taehyung?” You blow against your index finger and finally ascend your gaze.   “Just having a little fun,” he chimes and muses that— “You’re taking a lot longer than usual.”   “Well, I’m just having some fun.”   Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t take too long.”   “You shouldn’t act like you’re busy when you’re not,” you bite back without missing a beat.   His brow cocks, smirk playing on his lips. “I think it’s been too long since I’ve disciplined you.”   Before you can react, he ambushes and pins you flat onto the bed. Taehyung hovers over you with a glint in his eyes, heavy body on top of yours, hips pressed together. He holds your wrists above your head, preventing you from squirming. But you make no attempts to do so, simply glaring at him like a petulant child. You’re neither surprised nor caught off guard. Taehyung always likes to be the one on top, in a literal and figurative sense. And truth be told, you don’t particularly mind.   His pink lips are curled and he leans down to your neck. He starts to suck into your skin, rough enough to break through and your pathetic cries only spur him on. Making him smirk against you. But your fingers find their way into his hair and you yank his head back.   Flesh coated in his saliva, a giant purple bruise is left blooming on your supple skin as the redness fades. “I told you no marks.”   “You’re going to need it, peach,” he says with a mischievous grin and then vanishes.   You’re left rolling your eyes.   //   The grandiose double doors have never been intimidating. Even when Ms. Yoo has warned you on your first day to not disturb the master working and to not approach unless necessary. As much of a brat as the five year old is, even he doesn’t come close to his father’s office.   But to you, those doors have always signified that a very fun game is waiting behind them.    Your knuckles rap against the wooden surface and you pull the golden handles without waiting for confirmation. Kim Namjoon’s seated in his leather chair behind the imposing desk, eyes flickering upwards and you smile, holding your tray higher. “It’s fruit, sir.”   “That isn’t necessary,” he says and you feign dejection, downcast eyes, shoulder slumping. He swallows hard and then beckons you over. “You can bring it here.”   You come forward and place the plate on a single empty spot on the desk not coated in file folders. You’re close enough that he catches a whiff of your scent and the hickey on your neck.   A scoff spills from Namjoon’s chest.   “You’re doing a lot of unnecessary things in my home,” he comments offhandedly, perhaps not for your ears to hear. It’s passive aggressive and you mask your smile. Namjoon looks at you. “I would prefer if you would work properly and complete your duties without doing much else.”   You feign confusion. Wide-eyed blinking. Lashes batting.   As if giving you the reason for his mention, his eyes linger at the hickey.   In a delayed manner, your hand raises to the juncture of your neck, covering the spot Taehyung made like that alone could remove it. And then, you immediately drop to the ground on your knees.   “I-I’m so sorry, sir. It...it wasn’t my fault,” you cry out, searching the floor as the volume of your voice becomes timid and shy. It isn’t hard to come up with an excuse. “J-Jungkook did it. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he cornered me in the laundry room and I..told him to stop...but…”   He slams his desk.   Hand curled into a tight fist. Making the pens on the surface jump. It’s startling and you look up at him, viewing just how upset he is. “He left the next morning and hasn’t been back…”   “So that’s why he left. Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon stares at you in distress. “This is very serious.”   You shake your head. “I was afraid of saying anything. I know Jungkook’s been here longer than I have, so I didn’t think anyone would believe me and I can’t lose this job, sir.” Your head tilts to look up at him, eyes gleaming through your lashes, lips pouted, still on your knees. “I’m sorry.”   The man sighs. “There’s no reason to apologize. If he ever comes back, I’ll call the police immediately. No one in this household should ever feel unsafe. I’ll promise you that.”   You nod and he helps pull you up by your arm. You stagger upwards and on weakened knees, you stumble. With agile skills Taehyung would be proud of, you land on the man’s lap. Perched on his spread thighs, your legs placed along one side, and hands securely on his shoulders. Namjoon’s steadied you as well with his own palms sprawled on the small of your waist. And your parted lips are gasping mere millimeters away from his.   It’s an intimate moment. One where your gazes lock. One where you make sure lasts three seconds to imprint into his mind.   And then true to the character you’ve created, you pull yourself away. You grab your chair and dip your head. “I’m so sorry, sir.”   Before the master of the house can get another word out, you run out the room.   The minute you’re outside, you run into Yoongi. Passing by, he cocks a brow at the way you frantically shut the doors and your breathing is laboured as if you ran a marathon.   “Something wrong?”   Your head shakes and you devilishly smile at him. “It’s nothing at all.”   //   It’s a game with these mortal men.   You know they want you — that they helplessly dream about you at night. Your words, your lips, you crawling over to them and doing whatever they ask. Showing what reality could be. But the more you let them peek without giving it to them, the deeper they fall into your trap of honey.   “What do you think?”   You place the papers down, a tender smile placed on your features. “Shouldn’t you ask your uncle who’s an editor to look over your essay instead of me?”   Sohee playfully sulks. “Yeah, but he’s always busy. I don’t want to bother him.”   “You made a few errors here and the conclusion isn’t as strong as the introduction. I think you should expand on this point into one or two more sentences. But overall it’s very well written, Sohee. You might even have a knack for writing.”   The girl nods with a grin and when you stroke her hair while telling her how proud you are, she looks up at you and leans into your touch.   Ms. Yoo enters the dining room, endeared at the sight of you and Sohee sitting together at the table and working on her homework. She’s reluctant to interrupt but does so anyways. “Y/N, the master is calling for you.”   The housekeeper never tells you for what purpose, but you have an inkling sprouted from your intuition. Swiftly, you leave and Ms. Yoo takes your place as Sohee continues on other assignments she’s able to do on her own. The pair of them are equally unsuspecting.   It’s evening and long after dinner. The sun is dipping over the horizon, crimson shades fuzzy in the sky. Everyone is preoccupied and there’s no real reason why he should be calling you.   But you don’t hesitate.   Your knuckles rap against the grandiose doors. There’s a pause and you push it open.   Inside, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace — above the mantle is the family portrait — and the man is standing and staring at the flickering flames. His face casted by the warm glow and he’s nursing a glass of whiskey. Namjoon raises his head as you push the door back to where it was, leaving it slightly parted.    “Good evening.”   “Is there something wrong, sir?”   He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking and I...realized I haven’t been as kind to you as I should’ve been. It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t a safe place for you and I want to change that. I don’t want anyone in this house to be afraid.”   You know he’s referring to what you’ve accused Jungkook of doing and promptly you close the distance. Your steps are slow as your hips sway and you look at him through lidded eyes.   “Sir.” You keep your voice low. “This has always been a safe place to me, because I know you’re here.”   Your eyes locked into one another and a tense silence lingers.   Finally, Namjoon swallows hard and diverts his vision. “Would you like a drink?”   “I-Is that allowed, sir?”    “I’ll allow it.” The suited man smiles and moves to sit on his dark leather couch.    There are two couches facing one another by the fireplace with a coffee table in between, opposite of his desk and the bookshelves. A once private sanctuary meant for no one but him, yet you have an exclusive invitation.   His thighs spread as he gets comfortable and he reaches for the fancy bottle of whiskey. Namjoon pours a glass of the amber liquid. It sloshes on the side and he extends his arm.   You take it nervously as if you’ve never drank much before.   “You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t want to.”   “It’s not that.” You smile at him through your lashes. “I’m just wondering how expensive it is.”   Namjoon scoffs lightly, but not out of malice or annoyance. It’s from endearment. “You don’t need to worry about that.”   The rim of the glass is placed between your plush lips and you take a sip. It’s bitter, but slides smoothly down.   He watches you and in the meanwhile, your eyes flicker away from him. Something catches your attention on a mahogany bookshelf, so you cross the room. You allow your knees to brush against his, the loose strands of your hair nearly skimming along his nose.   Namjoon clears his throat, holding the crystal glass casually between his fingertips. “Can I ask what kind of perfume you use?”   You twist around with another easy smile. “I don’t really use any, sir.”   Bending over in his line of vision, you look at his stacks of books and other knick-knacks on his shelf. “You have chess?”   “I do.” He places his glass down. “Do you want to play?”   You turn around with another coy smile. “Can we really?”   The darkness of the room thickens, fire crackling and sputtering in the background. The glow is dim against your profiles and casts your shadows along the wall. The game of chess has been set on the small table. You tell him you barely know how to play to which he replied he’d go easy on you. A few minutes have passed and you’ve moved a few pawns around. Yet, it’s intimate and quiet as if the room is hidden away from the rest of the house. Something you’re sure isn’t too far off.   “Are you alright, sir?” you ask in a husky murmur, pupils flickering up to him as he’s mid-way from taking another sip of his whisky. “You seemed pretty stressed a few days ago.”   Namjoon leans back into the seat. It sinks underneath his weight. His thighs are spread as you hold your knight, still debating on where to place it on the board. “I still am, but it's just the usual business stress.”   “Your wife worries a lot.”    You place the chess piece down and he leans forward again, capturing your pawn with one smooth move of his rook.   “You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know she doesn’t care.”   “That’s not true,” you refute half-heartedly. “Why do you feel that way?”   “It’s obvious,” he mumbles and takes another pawn of yours when you move it. “My wife is more preoccupied with using my credit card and all she does all day is nag which makes it worse.”   You move your bishop across the board.   “Because of her, we have to have two live-in maids in the house at all times,” Namjoon continues. The liquor makes it easy for him to relax and let the truth spill. He’s defenseless. “Sohee doesn’t get along with her at all and Jaesun isn’t disciplined whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why my family is like this and where it went wrong.”   The older man exhales and slides his king forward.    He waits for your next move, but you don’t go.    Your gaze is pinned on him and his eyes travel upwards to connect with yours.   “It doesn’t need to be that way, sir,” you whisper.   It’s your moment. You can feel it. And you disregard the game in favour of crawling towards him. The chess pieces knock over, some to the table and the others collide to the ground.    He has no idea you were two moves away from checkmate.   In seconds, you straddle his thighs. Namjoon’s at a loss, arms not yet touching you, but hands never pushing you off of him. His eyes have gone hazy. He’s completely entranced by you, bewitched under your spell. Vulnerable to your seduction and the wicked temptation you offer.   “What are you doing?” His breath laboured and he tries to muster sternness to no avail, as if you shouldn’t entice him with such a dangerous game.   The corner of your lip pulls into a devilish smile. “I’m doing to fulfill every single one of your fantasies, daddy.” And you kiss him. Slotting your soft lips against his chapped ones, letting them move gently. It’s a brief moment before Namjoon surges forward like a man possessed.   Namjoon’s hands grab your ass and he pushes you forward until you’re sitting directly sitting above his crotch. You whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His brows furrow, mouth parting from the pain and you steal the chance to deepen the kiss.    He struggles for control but you ultimately give it to him, feigning submission.   It’s too easy.   You roll your hips over his hardened crotch, feeling how your panties stick to your slick folds, and he grabs hold of your waist. The pair of you break away from the kiss with your arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders.   “God, you knew what you were doing this entire time, weren’t you?” Namjoon’s chest heaves against yours. “Every time you fucking bent over. Every time you tried to play coy. Such a goddamn tease.”   His fingers rub over your wet lips then down to your neck and collarbones. His hands travel to the low collar of your dress and then he tears it. The fabric rips against the threads and you whine in shock. But Namjoon never halts, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. He grabs a handful of your soft breast and pinches your nipples roughly until the bud hardens against the pad of his fingers. You sob out as he watches you through lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way your expression contorts into pleasure.   “I can see why Jeon liked you so much.”   “But I didn’t want him to touch me, daddy.” You pout at him. The thin layer of your panties and his slacks prevents you from feeling it completely, but it’s still dry fucking. “I-I only wanted you.”   “And you’re going to have me,” the man grunts and pulls aside the skirt of your uniform. His hand dips past your thin, white underwear and his fingers feel against your folds.   “Fuck,” he hotly exhales, “you’re soaked. Do you really want me that badly?”   “Yes, daddy.” Without warning, Namjoon’s index and middle finger plunges into your cunt until he’s knuckle deep. You cry out, hugging him tighter to you and he pants, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.   “Your cunt is so tight.”   You squeeze around his prodding fingers. “Tighter than your wife’s?”   Before he can answer, you kiss him again. Your sticky tongues interlace, sloppy and obscene. You taste his spit at the back of your throat — and it’s just the way you like it.    The kiss lasts long enough that you can swallow his groan and you pull off his suit jacket. The rest of your dress pools around your hips. It becomes frantic after that, breaking apart just to rid of your clothes. He tosses your ruined underwear aside, but keeps the rest of his own attire on.   It’s some kind of power play as if you should be the only one naked and vulnerable.   Yet he’s oblivious to how you have him wrapped around your finger.   “Tell daddy.” The older man’s hand wraps around your throat gently. “Have you ever been fucked properly before?”   His slacks have been tugged down enough that his cock has sprung free and his other hand grips the base of it. The reddened tip leaks with a bead of precum and you eye how big he really is. It’s more than Jungkook’s but less than Taehyung’s.   You shake your head and lie. “No.”   Namjoon cusses.   “Is that okay?” you timidly whimper and he smirks.   “More than okay, baby. It won’t hurt too bad.”   He guides his shaft to your pulsing cunt and runs the head of his cock along the collected wetness that has stained his pants and dripped to his leather couch. Both of you lower your heads, watching as he starts pushing through your folds. Immediately, your fingers tighten on his shoulders, wrinkling his expensive white shirt that was ironed by his wife.   Namjoon shushes you. “Relax. It’s okay.”   “I-It’s too much, daddy,” you complain in a pitched voice. “It’s too big.”   His jaw ticks, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your parted thighs. “You can take it.”   You nod and sink down on him slowly, making sure to draw it out as long as you can. And Namjoon’s head falls back. He groans and makes it balls deep inside of you.   You make sure to tremble and squeeze around him, keeping his cock at a vice grip. “Is this okay?”   “Uh-huh, sweetheart. It’s great.”   With his eyes closed, he misses your smirk.   You begin to fuck yourself onto him, feeling the pull and thrust of his big shaft dragging along your wet walls. The way your cunt stretches deliciously. Namjoon meets you half-way, hips thrusting upwards while you rock yourself against him. Your nipples are hardened and your breasts bounce in front of him. Tying the sight all together, you reach behind and pull the pins from your hair, letting it cascade down.   You know it must be a sight for sore eyes.    While you’ve never flaunted your appearance, you know you’ve been subtly altered to lure mortal men in. Your face and body are the accumulation of their fantasies. And it’s effortless to tempt them. To captivate their attention with a simple smile. You’ve looked at yourself enough times in the mirror to know that you aren't shabby too.   “Daddy, it f-feels...so good,” the words are choked out of you, sobbed as you bat your lashes.   Jungkook, the poor boy, was much more eager and sweeter. But with Namjoon, his experience is evident in his strokes. He’s rougher with the way he squeezes your ass until a handprint is left. There’s less regard with how he treats you, as if you’re just a pretty placeholder merely giving pleasure.   His hard thrusts against your cervix would hurt if not for how the pleasure overtakes you.   “You have to pull out, daddy,” you stutter. “I-I can’t get pregnant.”   Your kind can’t carry children from mortals but he doesn’t need to know that.   “I’ll do whatever I want,” Namjoon grunts, jaw clamped and brows furrowed. He sweats at his hairline. “I’ll cum where I want.”   You give a loud and exasperated moan that you hope he enjoys. “B-But it’s not right.”   “Shush. I’ll take care of you.”   You squeeze around him again, hands tight on his shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he revels in the feeling of you rocking against him and you smirk, looking down at him. At how pathetic he’s gotten.   Just sitting on his lap and giving a simple kiss was enough to reduce him to this mess. From an established mogul in his forties into a helpless, hormonal teenage boy. In a few minutes, he’s thrown away years of marriage and loyalty for his wife for some maid’s cunt. A measly housemaid who’s supposed to be only a few years older than his own daughter.   Taehyung was right — this is fun.   At the same time, Sohee walks up the stairs while humming, hugging her textbooks to her body. She beelines straight to your room at the end of the other hall, wanting to show off how she’s finished everything and secretly hoping that you’ll gently stroke her hair like you always do.   But as she passes by her father’s office, her ears catch a high-pitched whine. She stops. On sheer instincts, her head swivels over. And through the crack, she finds her dad’s backside. She sees the way you’re on top of him, naked, riding her father. Your eyes flicker to her through the gap. She gasps.   Sohee backs away into the darkness. She turns around, a thick lump forming in her throat, her brows knitted together. But she doesn’t watch where she’s going and her mother meets her in the corridor.   “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed, Sohee.” Yijin’s voice is grating to the ears and she frowns at her daughter’s disposition. The way her downcast head and eyes search the ground. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?”   She doesn’t mean to — but Sohee’s eyes incidentally travel back to the grandiose double doors.   And Yijin follows her line of sight.   //   “I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Her screeches fill the manor. It’s always been noisy, but never solely because of an individual and certainly never at this ear screeching pitch. “How could you do this to me?!”   Yijin’s absolutely deranged. She’s throwing a fuss early morning after what she saw last night and retreated to her bedroom. She waited for him to return. Yet Namjoon never came to join her.   Now she stands at the foyer with a suitcase that Ms. Yoo packed, but she has no plans of leaving. Instead, she’s tossing porcelain vases on the ground and tugging the tablecloth off of the table. The display case is open and fragments of antiquities litter the marble floor.   Jaesun is crying hysterically at the staircase while rubbing his eyes with two tight fists. Sohee remains silent, standing at the top and looking down at her mother.   “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The woman shrieks at Namjoon who stands there motionlessly, expression blank and impassive. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be satisfied until she gets a remorseful reaction from him or tears this entire house apart. Either of which you’d be amused to see. “You selfish bastard!”   Although this was entertaining in itself. You’ve never seen her like this before. The once polished and poised woman has been diminished to this vengeful bitch that’s about to pop a vein — a version of herself that you always knew was hidden deep inside.   Ms. Yoo is the only one who comes forward and tries to put a stop to it. “Please, madam. Don’t do this,” she pleads softly, tears streaking down her own face.   Jaesun weeps. “Mommy!”   “Madam, please,” Ms. Yoo begs as if she’s trying to placate a child throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”   “You can’t do this to me, Namjoon!” Yijin’s hair is all in front of her face in a tangled mess. Her dress is wrinkled and she’s bare feet. Crazed — just like her husband was last night….except in different contexts.   Ms. Yoo starts to guide her away from the foyer to the front door, dragging the suitcase with her.    “Even if you divorce me, I could still get the house! Get our kids! Namjoon! Fuckin— Namjoon!”   Ms. Yoo pulls her out the door while crying and Yijin collapses at the steps as violent sobs wrack through her. The housekeeper sets the suitcase outside and looks down, hesitating.    Namjoon deadpans, “Close the door, Ms. Yoo.”   She shuts it. Fists bang against the surface for a moment before it stops, being replaced by the noise of wails. Instantly, Sohee runs upstairs, disappearing from sight. Namjoon turns away. Ms. Yoo sighs, taking Jaesun’s hand and comforting him.   The only other person is Yoongi. His gaze is darkened and he leans against the wall with arms crossed. You turn and his eyes pierce into yours. But wordlessly, you bow your head to him and go on about your day.   //   The house is finally quiet. Just the way you like it.   But it brews with a sort of intensity, a tension that doesn’t let you breathe easy. It was the calm before the final storm and your guard wasn’t going to be put down just yet.   You knock against Sohee’s bedroom door and after hearing no protests, you open it. She’s laying on her bed, covers over her head, having skipped school today which no one blamed her for. You clear your throat, speaking gently as if you were cooing a puppy, “You didn’t have any breakfast, so I brought you hot chocolate, Sohee. I’ll leave it on your nightstand.”   The mug is placed down and as you turn away, the sound of rustling slows your steps. She’s come up for air, hair in a disarray and covering her face, and she calls for you, “Y/N.”   “Hmm?”   “Are…..” She hesitates and you take the invitation to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl looks up at you after a moment. “Are you going to become my new mom?”   The pause is purposeful. It makes it seem as if you’re considering it. Makes it seem as if you’re staring at her because you’re wholeheartedly endeared by her. And that nothing else matters.   To top it off, your arms reach out and you hug her. Sohee is vulnerable, small against you and she eases in your secure embrace, allowing you to hold her. You even run your fingers through her hair, caressing her gently and she softly sighs, relishing in the comfort she never received from her own mother.   In a lot of ways, you share many similarities with her.   “I’m sorry, Sohee,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean you to see that. For all this to happen. I adore you and if you want me to be your new mom, I will, but it’ll be a decision made with you.”   She nods against your shoulder and the corner of your mouth pulls into a subtle smirk.   To think she would ask such a question merely hours after her biological mother was booted out the house is both astounding and unsurprising. It’s partly from her poor relationship with the woman and how she was charmed by you moments after your first encounter. A kind of love at first sight.    Not unlike how most men succumb to your allure — yet differing from lust. Instead, Sohee has developed a familial affection towards you.   But not everyone is as welcome as she is to the new change.   “Did you have anything to do with this?” Yoongi asks you. A surprise that he’s stepped out of his bedroom for some sunlight. Or perhaps to find answers.   You hum, continuing to place the stack of books back onto the shelf in the living room. “Maybe.”   His cat-like eyes are focused, pierced into you with a kind of intensity that would make anyone sweat. But you aren’t anyone. “What are your plans? Is it the inheritance? The status? Namjoon’s money—”   “Neither.”    Finished with your task, you move to the kitchen. But Yoongi blocks the doorway, leaning against it and never moving away. You stop, allowing your bodies to press together, testing as to who will give in first. Yet, he never once yields. Wavers. You’re close enough that he can feel your hot breath against his skin and as his jaw clamps, your pupils flicker down to his pouty mouth.   Against his own will, his eyes mimic yours. They follow to your own lips. And you smirk.   It’s a heated moment and then you brush away from the sharp-witted man.   //   For a short while, there’s a mirage that the game has several winners. But the instant gratification comes with consequences and there is only one ultimate victor.   “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t work in these conditions. With the madam gone, it’s just too hard for me. I…” Ms. Yoo shakes her head tearfully, a wrinkled hand placed over her chest where her heart is. “I’ve spent decades working in this house, master Kim, and I think it’s time I retire and spend some time with my grandchildren.”   Namjoon stares out the window, unable to work, unable to move.   His frustration overwhelms him.   “I won’t force you to stay, Ms. Yoo. Sohee and Jaesun will miss you, but you’ve done a lot for my family and I. We couldn’t thank you enough for your dedication and hard work over the years.”   He is calm and she bows her head before retreating.   You catch her in the corridor and she takes your hands, squeezing them and wishing you the best of luck with a sweet smile. After Ms. Yoo leaves, you wipe your hands against your collared dress.   You knock on the grandiose doors.    “Get out.”   Disregarding his command, you enter anyway. Namjoon is disgruntled, seated behind his desk in his leather chair, a finished glass of whiskey discarded on the side. His hands are clasped together, elbows propped on the surface and he leans his head on his fingers.   “What don’t you understand? Leave!”    But you approach him until you can press your hands on the edge of his desk and lean forward.   The once powerful man established in his wealth looks up at you, dark circles deepening, the wrinkle between his brows made permanent. He stares at you as if you’re a fearsome curse, a bothersome pest, a fiend. And you have to resist the delicious smirk that tickles your lips.    “You did this to me,” he mutters, simmering in animosity. “You destroyed me.”   You round the oak furniture and plop down onto his lap. Before he can shove you off, you grab his hair from the back of his head, letting the strands thread through your fingers, and you pull.   He groans, chin lifting up.   “You were the one who made the decision,” you tell him. “It’s you who became weak. You thought about me and even now, you still want me.” The edge of your mouth tilts and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat before you lean in, whispering in his ear, “You can’t stop thinking about me, can you, Namjoon?”   “You’re a vixen.”   “Oh, I’m much more than that.”   You end up sinking to your knees and taking him to the back of your throat. He cums there, the taste salty and consistency thick — a kind of bitterness that you’ve learnt to find savoury. And Namjoon cums again in your tight cunt when you’re bent over his desk and he’s pounding into you, fucking you hard enough to feel his anger and for your ass to bruise against his pelvis.   “N-Namjoon, it feels so good.”   “Shut the fuck up, slut.” He sweats at his hairline, holding your hips and jostling you around as he chases his own release. You look across the room to the family portrait above the mantle and smirk to yourself. “I-I’ll spank your cunt again.”   He couldn’t even scold you. He couldn’t blame you for ruining his marriage.   You have him wrapped around your finger.   //   The photograph captured a moment of Namjoon holding newborn Jaesun, Yijin smiling with her arm looped around Sohee who was only eleven at the time. They’re in front of the house with Ms. Yoo beside them wearing a grin. She remembers that day, the family barbecue outside, the laughter and joyous atmosphere. Yet now, Ms. Yoo only sighs to herself and packs the framed picture into her duffle bag.   “You’re still here?”    Your voice nearly startles the old woman to death. She jumps and turns around, finding you at the doorway. “Yes, I was just finishing up. I didn’t realize I had so many belongings. I guess this is what thirty years gives you.”   Ms. Yoo takes a gander around the room, what was her home, then to you. She never once notices Namjoon’s cum dripping down your thigh from your messy and puffed center that still delightfully aches.   “I’m going to miss this place.”   “Or you could always stay.” Not wanting to waste any more time, you take three strides and your mouth presses against hers. The older woman is shocked, eyes widened at your kiss, but you inhale.   She goes limp against you. Her soul taken right from her. And Ms. Yoo collapses to the ground.   You shudder at the taste, at how your guts coil inwards. It’s terribly bland.    Her soul isn’t half of what it takes to satisfy you.    Not like you’re surprised. As a succubus who’s meant to entice mortal men, male souls are the desirable ones.   You wait for Taehyung to come pick up the corpse, but he never shows up and you curse him. He always finds a way to show his face and steal the good souls away from you, satisfying his own appetite and leaving the scraps left for you. But when it comes to souls that are bland to you and therefore bland to him, suddenly he has no business manifesting himself.   You kick Ms. Yoo’s lifeless body and having no other options, you roll her heavy body with the rectangular carpet. You start sweating as you heave her up. But with enough effort, you manage to stuff her in the closet and shut the doors.   Someone will deal with that later.   //   It’s amusing. Namjoon does everything within his power to act like nothing’s changed. That nothing’s happened and he isn’t missing his wife or housekeeper in his home. He grabs onto any semblance of normalcy, perhaps to cope with the changes of the past twenty four hours.   He calls for dinner to be set at the usual time and you’re thankful Ms. Yoo made sure the fridge was stocked up before she was to leave. All you do is slap the container food into bowls and heat them in the microwave before setting the table as you usually do.   The entire family gathers around the table — Sohee, Jaesun, Namjoon and even Yoongi.   “Y/N will be joining us for dinner,” Namjoon suddenly announces as you set down the last bowl. Your brow raises and Yoongi’s eyes round but no one questions it.    Not even Jaesun who often throws tantrums. The kid merely pouts. Never once lifting his spoon of rice into his mouth, putting on a defiant act, but you don’t care. If the brat wants to starve, he can starve.   You sit down beside Namjoon, across from Yoongi and diagonal to Sohee.   It’s tense at the table, the silence suffocating those around it. But you settle in comfortably and even pass some side dishes directly into Sohee’s bowl that you know she likes. Her eyes flicker up to you and a tiny smile tugs on her face. “Thank you.”   Namjoon clears his throat and looks to his brother. “You were working on editing a science textbook, right?”   “Biology,” Yoongi answers shortly. “For grade eight students.”   “And how is that coming along?”   They continue their conversation, making some small talk and you chew in your cheek while your foot lifts underneath the table. Your leg stretches and it grazes along the leg of the man across from you.    Yoongi immediately freezes. His brown eyes pool close to black and he glares. But you don’t let up, stroking the inside of his leg as you eat and look away from him. Yoongi pushes away. You scoot yourself forward. He tries not to draw attention to himself. Asked another question, he gives half a mind to responding.    Your toes slowly travel up to his thighs and then they tickle and twitch against his crotch.   Yoongi’s breath staccatos.    No one knows that you’re playing footsies with Yoongi underneath the table. That you can feel the way he hardens against his sweatpants.    “What game do you think you’re playing?!” he harshly whispers after dinner when the two of you are away from the others. Yoongi corners you, his good looks sadly marred by his twisted expression.   You blink, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”   But the little act doesn’t faze him. You knew it wouldn’t work the second you met the man.   “I know you have something to do with Yijin leaving.”   “I didn’t do anything, Yoongi.” You grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until his body is pressed against yours and you grin, breath skimming along his neck. “The dominoes were already in place long before I came here. You know that too. I just needed to give it a little push,” you exhale the word and he can’t stop himself from swallowing hard. From staring at you.   He eventually musters enough self-control to push you away and leave.   You turn the corner, the darkness enveloping the corridor and bringing a sort of eeriness. But it might just be from Taehyung who you find leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking. “Aren’t you having a little too much fun, peach?”   “This is the best part.” You loll your head to one side. “Sometimes playing with your food before you eat it makes it much more appetizing.”   He laughs, chuckling from his chest and the sound tinkles. “I taught you well.”   Taehyung pushes himself off the surface and as he passes by you, he taps your butt.    He disappears seconds later, leaving you on your lonesome to keep playing.   //   Everything is falling into place.   It’s like you’re playing chess without an opponent, simply arranging your pawns as you’d like on the board. But because of how effortless and simple it is, it’s easy to get bored.   One day you’re waking up to a blaring alarm clock and slaving after the whims of humans as their servant and the next, you wake beside Namjoon in the master bedroom, having taken the madam’s place. You slept on her sheets, on her pillow, beside her husband.    There’s nothing fun about it anymore once you’ve won.   You roll over to straddle Namjoon’s hips, placing his morning wood right under your center. He’s shaken awake by the movement and groans, rough hands instinctively coming to grab your ass.    “W-What time is it?” his voice is still thick with sleep and you smile devilishly, rubbing your clit through your silk slip that barely covers your nipples. Your pink cunt is still swollen from last night’s endeavours, but you think one last one ought to be enough.    You won’t miss his cock after this.   “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you, Namjoon?” you whisper and before he can respond, your hands reach out, wrapping around his neck.   He’s completely at your mercy.   The man slowly blinks awake, coming to consciousness and a staggering exhale leaves his mouth as you position the bulborous head of his shaft to your folds. He mumbles something about how insatiable you are and lightly chuckles. But Namjoon should consider himself lucky. It’s not often you let the same human fuck you three times.   He pounds into you, hips lifting off the mattress. The stretch of your pussy is rather pleasing, but with the repetitiveness, your mind wanders and your hands around his neck tighten. You cut off Namjoon’s airway and his eyes slam shut with a loud groan. You can practically feel his cock twitch inside of you.   Unfortunately, the man loses it all too soon. It’s a bit amateurish for someone as experienced and punishing as he is, but you don’t blame him. Well...only a little as you lean down and capture your mouth with Namjoon’s before inhaling sharply.   Out of the three times you spread your legs for him and the numerous times you let his cum leak out of your pussy and drip down your thighs, he only made you cum once.   It’s kind of sad. Selfish.   Once you’re done with him, he falls back.    You hum to yourself as you climb off the man’s used dick and move to the vanity across the luxurious bedroom. You freshen up and pin up your hair, allowing a few strands to frame your face. After you’re satisfied, you grab Yijin’s shawl to cover your top half and you stride down the hall to Yoongi’s door.   He’s at his desk as usual, red pen in hand, crouched over a stack of papers.   But the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the bright sunlight through his modest room.   “Mornin’.”   He turns around, brow raised, eyeing how you’re leaning against the door frame, casually greeting him in spite of being dressed in a measly scrap of fabric. “What are you doing?”   You quirk your head. “Something we should’ve done a long time ago.”   “And what is that?”   “Hmmm, I think you know, Yoongi.” You flick a piece of dirt from underneath your fingernail. “Let’s not drag this on for any longer than we have to.”   You stay ambiguous and he maintains an impassive expression. But his stoicness has no effect to deter you when you smile and approach him slowly. “You know, I was once like you. Complacent. Quiet. A little like Sohee too, maybe even more naive than she is right now.”   “Once?”   “A long time ago,” you hum. “I was going to get married to a bad, bad man until I became liberated.”   You come close enough to grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. His head tilts upwards when you tug, powerless to your enchantment. “It’s okay to give in, Yoongi,” you whisper against his skin. “It’s okay to be selfish and indulgent. You’ve done so well up to now.”   “What makes you think I’ll sleep with my brother’s mistress?” he asks in a harsher tone. “The whore that ruined his entire family.”   You laugh. “That’s not very nice.”   “But isn’t it the truth?”   “It is. But I’m supposed to be irresistible to men. Your restraint is impressive, Yoongi, but it’s only natural that you give into your primitive needs or at least be honest with yourself. You dream about me, don’t you?” The ongoing silence makes your grin widen and your eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight. “You’ve fantasized about me a lot. You want me.”   You lower yourself, hooded eyes connected with his. Your hair is messy, yet not in a disoriented way from sleeping. Yoongi smell it on you too — the sweat and musty scent. “You fucked my brother.”   “And I can fuck you too.”   You surge forward, capturing his mouth with your own.    It’s different. Languid with the soft caresses of tongue, his lips not chapped but puffy. The kiss is slow and lazy. Not eager like Jungkook but not as rough as Namjoon. Yoongi sighs, savouring and truly enjoying it, and it’s something you lean into.   You match his speed and rhythm and once you pull away, his eyes are hazy.   Yoongi pants, swallowing hard. “Who...are you?”   “Secret,” you sing-song and pull him towards you. The two of you nearly fall to the floor, though his bed is close enough in his small room that you collide against the mattress. The man hovers over you and you hold his arms in a vice grip. Cocking your head to the side, you giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?”   “You’re a heathen.”   “Not quite, but close enough.” You grin and kiss him again. It feels good to.   Not long after that, you’re beneath him and he’s bare, quiet without a single moan. His cock draws deep into you leisurely, languid rolls that’s not necessarily chasing for an end but relishing in the pleasure.   “I was never going to fuck you,” Yoongi murmurs. “Even if I wanted to.”   You pout. “Why not?”   “Because I have dignity and respect for myself.”   You scoff. “Guess you lost all that.”   “No. I still do.” His voice is husky around the edges. “But if I give you what you want, maybe I’ll understand your intentions better.”   The corner of your mouth curls and your hips lift to meet Yoongi’s. You squeeze around him just to tease. “And what do you think my intentions are?”   “I-I still don’t know yet.” He sweats, hips sped up and then keeps a constant rhythm. “Why do you do the things that you do? Why did you try to tear this house apart? Gain Sohee’s favour.” Yoongi’s brown eyes pierce into you. He’s a perceptive man. “You don’t love Namjoon. I don’t think you loved Jungkook either.”   “Jungkook?”   “He would’ve never left like that out of his own free will.”   “You’re smart,” you coo affectionately and run your hands through his fluffy hair. It’s such a shame he’s just a mortal. “I promise you’ll know by the end of this, Yoongi.”   Another minute passes and Yoongi pulls out. You watch as he pumps himself thrice and finishes on your stomach with a quiet grunt, cum painting all over your flesh. You’re about to grab his shoulder to kiss him, but he parts your thighs and lowers himself. His mouth attaches to your cunt, forcing his wet tongue inside your used hole and he eats you out, licking at the juices that leak out of you.   But he remains meticulous and careful, drawing unrestrained moans from your lungs.   “S-So good…”   Yoongi works you up until you feel hot all over your body and your hands have sunk into his head of hair, threading through the strands. As if that wasn’t enough, he sucks on your clit and inserts his index into your walls. He sinks deep and curls the finger against the perfect spot.   Your back arches and you cum all over his tongue.   He lets you ride it out against the stiff muscle and his plush lips before he’s lifting himself up, revealing all of your slick that’s coated his mouth and chin.    “Thank you,” you pant, chest heaving. You gaze at Yoongi with heavy lids and you sit up. “I’ll give you the answer to your questions. Who I am. Why I’m here.” You cradle his cheeks in your palms and you lean forward.   Yoongi’s eyes droop and he kisses you back, softly and deeply. You keep it slow too, savouring the taste of yourself on his palette and then, when the moment is right, you inhale.   His lids open slightly, feeling himself weaken. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion, but as your kiss continues, his surroundings blurs more. He groans at the back of his throat, wanting to pull away, but without having the strength to.   The world around him darkens. His consciousness lasts three seconds afterwards. Enough to realize you’re a monster.   Yoongi’s body falls back onto the mattress.   His soul has been consumed by you and as tasty as it was, you’re a bit regretful. You pull the plush blanket up to give him some modesty and you ruffle your fingers through his bangs. “Truthfully, I liked you the best in this house.”   The sadness lasts another second before you’re humming and climbing off the bed.   The job is finally done and you roll your shoulders, walking out the room. As you do so, your exterior finally sheds of your human disguise into your true form. While your face remains the same, your lips redden and your hair becomes luscious and longer, draping your backside. The white, silk slip morphs to a dress in the blinding shade of crimson. It hugs your body, from the dip of your waist to the swell of your breasts. And at the crown of your head, two small horns manifest.   Downstairs, Taehyung is standing on the porch. He turns as you join his side and smirks. “About time you finished, peach.”   He’s been watching Jaesun. The five year old is running around the backyard underneath the sun and flinging around the toys his wealthy parents got for him. He’s completely oblivious to the situation and unquestioning to Taehyung’s presence.   Taehyung is the tamer of all brats after all.   “Didn’t you say I could take my time to have fun?”   “I think you’ve been having too much fun.”   The corner of your reddened lips pull. “I don’t think so.”   “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself though.” He lolls his head over and grabs a hold of your chin. Taehyung leans himself down to your height and comes forward for an invasive kiss.   Without warning, he licks into your mouth and you moan helplessly, completely at his mercy. Taehyung’s tongue is sticky as he tastes you, calm yet impatient. It’s a pleasant kind of intimacy as he steals your breath. But when he starts to inhale deep, you bite him.   Taehyung pulls back with a grin, the bottom of his lip split slightly.   You pout. “You should at least give me some. I worked hard for those souls, you know.”   He gives you a look. “Did you really?”   “More work than usual,” you bite back.   A black cat mewls at Jaesun. The kid swivels his head over, fascination growing as the feline hops from the fence to the grass gracefully as if inviting him to play. The cat has a short but luscious coat and its tail curls, green eyes wide. Jaesun instantly drops the ball he’s holding.   His greedy hands extend and he follows the cat behind some bushes.   There’s a flash of bright light and Jimin stretches himself out from his feline form. He cracks his bones and leans over, interrupting your conversation. “Thanks for the kid, Tae.”   Taehyung waves. “No problem, Chim.”

Sohee wakes up to a silent house.   There’s a strangeness in the air, a certain uneasy feeling in her body, but she dresses herself and continues her morning. It’s when the peace is ongoing that she searches for people, for her father first.   She screams when she discovers Namjoon on the bed lifeless. No matter how much she shakes him or calls out his name, he never moves or twitches. He doesn’t breathe.   The girl cries and runs to her uncle for help. But he, too, isn’t sleeping and isn’t resting like he appears to be. The man’s skin has gone cold, eyes shut tight, his lips pale.   She cups a hand over her mouth, silencing a sob in the eerie house and she stumbles down the steps. There’s only one person left. One person to help her. And she sees you through the back door on the porch. Standing next to a tall man.   Sohee’s confusion stops her tears while hiccups continue to wrack through her body.   “W-Who are you?”   The two of you turn at the sound of her voice.   Taehyung grins. “Oh. Nice to see you again, little girl. Remember me?”   Sohee’s eyes are swollen, cheeks stained with saltwater. Her body trembles as she grips the door frame. You coo at her, stepping forward with your arms open but she flinches. “W-What did you do to them?”   You sigh, arms dropping to your side, yet your voice remains tender. “They got what they deserved, Sohee.”   “W-W...h..at?”   “They succumbed to their primitive desires and suffered the punishment for it.”   “This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” Taehyung’s brow cocks and he smiles at her. “You were the one who summoned me here in the first place.”   Confusion is marked across her visage — brows furrowed, mouth lopsided.    But it was Sohee that called out to you and Taehyung. She was the one who began your assignment. She was the one who invited the pair of you into her home. Practically opened the door and ushered you in desperately.   “All those nights of prayer, did you really think God would grant you such evil wishes to get rid of your family? You were praying to the devil, little girl.”   Incubi and succubi like you and Taehyung need invitations to enter an abode. Yet Sohee handed the both of you that on a silver platter. Taehyung might’ve assigned the task to you, but it was a win-win. Not only could you grant her wish, but you could reap all the benefits by stealing the souls of her family members and indulging in their lust.   “All those nights of wishing your mother would get hit by a car. That your brother would cease to exist. That your father would fail his business….”   It was a victory from the start.   You give Sohee a moment since it looks like she needs it. It’s understandably shocking. You were once in her position after all and just as surprised. But the realization seems to sink into her with the way her eyes widen. “I-I didn’t know this is what would happen!”   “You wanted an escape from your life,” you say to her in excitement. There was one more benefit to this ordeal too — just as Taehyung has you, Sohee will become yours. “This is it, sweetheart.”   If you didn’t know you would get such an endearing subordinate from all this, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of it all. But ‘subordinate’ and ‘underling’ are such unpleasant words Taehyung uses. Sohee’s more like a little puppy for you to love, mentor and show around.   “Come with us.” You extend your hand, palm open to the sky. “We came all the way here for you.”   Sohee looks at both you and him, brows furrowed, hesitation evident. “What will happen to me?”   “You want to be like me, don’t you?” You smile at her along with Taehyung who remains patient. “I’ll take care of you and so will Taehyung. What else does this place have to offer you?”   This is the true game of temptation.   No one is ever forced into making a deal with the devil. It’s a choice. And one she takes.   The girl lifts her arm, taking your hand. A bigger smile pulls on your features.    And just like that, the three of you vanish together.

[knightsimp]

Recovery (1/2)

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Summery: You knew something was off. You knew that was not Percival.

Genre: Angst (the fluff will be in Part 2!)

Word Count: 2400+

Date Posted: February 1, 2021

Note: I haven’t written in a while! I finally have a new muse lmao.

Part Two: Link

MACUSA, also known as the Magical Congress of the United States of America, is the magical government in America. This is also where our dear protagonist works and spends a lot of her time. 

(Y/N) (L/N) is a MACUSA auror. She has worked there for years now. She started out as a simple intern when she graduated from Illvermony, and is now a seasoned auror. 

For the last couple months, (Y/N) has been out of the country in London, working with The Ministry of Magic on a joint case. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple weeks, but being an auror was not exactly a predictable job. When she came back to New York, she did not go home directly, not before seeing Percival.

She and Percival had known each other since she was a trainee and he was an intern. At first, she was ahead in rankings, but he soon climbed to the top and became Director of Magical Security and head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Regardless of her jealousy (though she may deny that she was ever jealous), they have always been good friends. They were made for each other. Inside jokes, casual and last-minute meet-ups; they were in sync from the beginning. 

(Y/N) giddily knocked on the door of Percival’s office before slowly opening it.

“Hey Percy!” Her voice had a tune to it. “Guess who’s back?” When she looked at him, he saw someone who was very tired. He was hunched over at his desk, a hand on his hairline. 

“(L/N).” He was monotone.

“Oh, wow. I feel missed! Stand up, you fool; let me give you a hug.” With a sigh, Percival stood and allowed for her to walk into his arms. She held him tight, her arms locking behind his back. 

Nothing was wrong at first, but (Y/N) realized how loosely he held her. Sure Percival is not a hugger, but when he was affectionate, the man was affectionate. That was not super concerning, but what did set off alarms in her head was when Percival took a big sniff of her hair. She was expecting him to ask if she even went home, seeing as she wheeled in her suitcase, or for him to ask her why she was gone so long, as she was not allowed to send any letters or anything and he probably found out from another official. 

But nothing.

He was asking nothing.

Maybe he was stressed? She did know about the whole Grindelwald situation and how much that has been weighing on Percival, considering his position in MACUSA. 

“Are you okay, Percy?” She asked as she pulled away. She chose her words carefully. “You seem tired.” She intentionally avoided calling him “off.”

“I’m okay.” He answered. However, (Y/N) found something odd. He had no tell. 

Not many people realized, but Percival Graves did indeed have a tell. He knew to hide this tell with work related stuff, but it seemed to come out in a casual environment. This tell was him smoothing out his slicked-back hair with his dominant hand.

She knew he was lying. And he had no tell.

This was not Percival Graves.

The realization caught (Y/N) off guard, but as an experienced auror, she knew how to keep a straight face. She knew not to let her smile turn fake. 

“Alright! If you ever need any help, you know where to find me.” She put some distance between them with the excuse of grabbing her suitcase. This was another thing that convinced her that this was not her friend; he did not offer to help or walk her out. Percival may be stoic and cold but he was a gentleman to a fault. 

When she exited and closed the door to his office, she could not help but let a shiver run down her spine. If this was not Percival, then who was he?

Her first stop was Seraphina Picquery’s office. Maybe she will know something? Hopefully, seeing as Seraphina works so closely with Percival, she would have noticed the differences in his behavior.  

(Y/N) was more professional when knocking on Seraphina’s door. 

“Enter!” She walked in once she had permission. Seraphina was sitting at her desk. Surprisingly, she was not in some sort of meeting at the moment. “Ms. (L/N)! I trust your return to the states was pleasant.”

“Yes, um, Madame President-”

“You haven’t gone home yet?” Seraphina Stood from her chair and came to the front of her desk. “Surely you would want to take a few days off.”

“Madame President, please listen to me.” Seraphina motioned for (Y/N) to speak what is on her mind. “Have you noticed anything strange with Mr. Graves while I was gone?”

“(L/N), if you are wondering if he missed you considering how long you’ve been gone, I am sure-” (Y/N) cut her off.

“That is not my concern, Madame President.” She stopped for a moment. “I just came from Percival’s office, ma’am. Something is not right. Something feels off; he feels off.” Seraphina cocked an eyebrow.

“How so?” (Y/N) thought about the evidence she had, suddenly feeling a little dumb.

“For one, I can tell you for sure he did not miss me. He did not ask any of the questions that one would expect, he did not hug me the way he usually does - he sniffed my hair very strangely - and he did not offer to walk me out.” Seraphina rolled her eyes. “Does that not seem odd to you?”

“I think you just may be a little upset that he did not give you the reaction to your return that you wanted and you are tired.”

“But-”

“Go home, (Y/N).” (Y/N) went to speak again, but stopped, realizing how futile her attempts would be. “Yes, Madame President.” Rolling her suitcase behind her, she left disappointed.

When (Y/N) returned home, she could not stay in the shower long enough for her to fully relax. She could not get Percival off of her mind. She could not rest, even after three months of working. Something told her another job was calling her name and the auror part of her was going to investigate. While in her bathrobe and wet hair, she pinned up a photo of her and Percival. They looked at each other and at the camera in the moving photo and it made (Y/N) smile. It also made her more determined to find out what was going on. 

“Alright.” She muttered to herself. Time to get to work.

Over the next month, (Y/N) had slowly added to her wall. She had been sneakily keeping tabs on Percival, seeing where he went, who he met with, where he ate; she tried her best. Of course, there were holes in the narrative she was putting together as she had to continue doing her job as auror. She needed to keep her job, but also needed to keep Percival from being suspicious, especially since he was technically her boss. One thing she often beat herself up for was being so friendly with him from the minute she walked into his office after her trip. She had to keep that facade up, which meant the occasional hug, calling him by his nickname, etc. Each time, she felt sick.

(Y/N) even went to each lunch with him every Monday. His reaction to coming to his office for lunch on Monday something she paid attention to. This imposter went along with it, as if lunch with (Y/N) every Monday was the norm, but it was not. Before she left for London, they had been having lunch on Wednesday for years; Monday was never a day that they met up for a meal. Of course, (Y/N) never expected Percival to come to her apartment on Fridays. Fridays, they would have dinner together. Each week, they would rotate on who’s apartment. When he never showed up for dinner the Friday following her return, she knew this was not Percival. And it was a relief when he did not turn up to her apartment. 

Of course, she had her doubts during her investigation. At points, she thought she was crazy. She tried to make up excuses as to Percival’s sudden change in personality and routine. That man was a man of discipline, however; he is not the person one would expect to break from their routine.

At one point the stress had become too much. (Y/N) ended up inviting her friend Queenie to her apartment during an empty Friday. Queenie, being the sweetheart she is, was sworn to secrecy, though she did not believe what (Y/N) was giving her. If her sister Tina found out, (Y/N) would be reported for insubordination. Still, Queenie tried her best to support her friend.

Things took a turn with Newt Scamander coming to New York. She had met Newt once before, seeing as she worked with his older brother Theseus while she was in the states. Chaos reached his peak with his beasts on the loose, the anti-magic sentiment, and the random civilian attacks which definitely had a magical origin. 

She was there when Newt and Tina trapped Percival, making him fall to his knees. (Y/N) almost cried seeing her friend in such a position, but she felt the blood drain from her face when his dark hair turned white and his eyes changed hue. She never suspected that he was Grindelwald. 

In the silence of everyone’s awe, (Y/N) pushed through the aurors. 

Limping on her injured leg, she approached him, ignoring the immense pain coming from her thigh. She kicked him hard in the jaw, making him fall on his back. Those around her gasped, surprised by her reaction. “I knew it,” she mumbled before shouting, “I knew it!” She put her foot on his chest, tears finally running down her face, her teeth gritting. “Where is he? Where is he!” The cocky smile Grindelwald gave her as an answer made her blood boil. 

“(Y/N).” Tina pulled her back as (Y/N) struggled in her grasp. “(Y/N), he’ll get what he deserves! Please-” (Y/N) broke free, only glaring daggers at Tina before walking towards the president. 

“(Y/N)-” Seraphina nervously tried to call her name. 

“Forgive me for being blunt, Madame President, but I told you. I told he was not Percival.” (Y/N)’s heels clacked on the concrete floor of the destroyed subway before she apparated away to her apartment. She could not even make it to the bed before she fell to her knees and began to sob. She tried to stop the hiccups and whimpers with her hand, but gave up very quickly. 

Where is he? Where is Percy? Where is Percival Graves? A dreadful thought came to her. What if he’s dead? This only made the sobs louder. She rested her head against the corridor wall. She did not even bother to turn on any lights or light any candles.

She stayed there even when the sun set. She was too tired, too drained, (and not to mention injured) to get up and change or eat. She found out what was wrong with Percival, which is what she wanted, but she almost wished she did not know.

She heard a whooshing behind her. Someone had appeared in her apartment. 

“(Y/N)?” Queenie’s soft voice was heard. “Sweetie?”

“Queenie, go make something for her to eat.” Tina was also here, it seemed. “I’ll get her cleaned up.” Tina stood in front of (Y/N), kneeling down. “Come on.”She struggled to stand her up. Not only was (Y/N) not willing to stand, but her leg was also injured. Once Tina was able to stand her up, she was ready to take on (Y/N) weight. As soon as they were stable, a pathetic, exhausted sob escaped (Y/N). 

“Come on, (Y/N). I’ll help you.” Tina almost flinched when (Y/N) looked up to meet her eyes. She looked so tired, so defeated, but there was enough determination to at least get to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, poor Queenie was feeling it all. Tina does her best to sympathize, but someone as empathetic as Queenie really did feel everything. Not only was she grieving Jacob, but she was now feeling (Y/N)’s immense grief of Percival. Queenie tried her best to stay somewhat positive while making (Y/N) a meal; sadness can be tasted in a meal.

Tina was able to get (Y/N) to shower and sat at the dining table. Her hair was still wet, but she definitely looked cleaner. Queenie did her part and convinced (Y/N) to eat. Eating did make (Y/N) feel a tad better; Queenie had always been an amazing cook. 

The air around them felt so still, so solemn, so exhausting. No one dared to say a word. 

“I...” (Y/N)’s voice broke the silence. “I think I want to go to sleep now.” 

“Alright.” Queenie’s voice was soft and gentle as if she was talking to a child, glancing at (Y/N)’s plate to make sure she had eaten enough. “Tina and I will clean up-”

“No, Queenie, I can’t let you do that. You’ve already done so much for me. You can go home.”

“We want to help, (Y/N).” Tina popped up. “You’ve been through a lot for the last couple of months.” (Y/N) did not have the energy to argue, but she gave a thankful smile. She delicately stood from the table and quietly went to her bedroom, her no-longer-heeled feet not making a sound on the wood floor. She did not have the energy to even dry her hair properly before falling onto her mattress. Once she was under the covers, she curled up into a ball and hugged the pillow which was usually beside the one she chose to lay her head on. No more sounds came out, but tears did soak the pillow she shoved her face into as she held on tighter. 

When she woke up the next morning, the mental exhaustion had taken over. Her lungs seemed airy and there was a grim atmosphere. Judging by the lack of direct sunlight coming from her bedroom window, it was the afternoon. When she sat up, her eyes went directly to the wall across from her where she had pinned up evidence.

Well, Percy is not going to find himself, now will he?

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”