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retroellie · 2 years ago

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Twisted Game

Summary: After the prison collapses, you and Daryl are stuck on the road. After chugging down some moonshine a game of "Never have i ever" turns into a night you'll never forget.

A/N: I've had this in my drafts for weeks, i finished it up all today so it might be choppy. But this shit was the horniess thing i have ever written God damn. Also, the way this gif has a choke hold on me, HIS TUMMY, i simply cannot.

Warnings: NSFW, Loss of virginity, unprotected sex, Oral sex, dirty talk and squirting

Word count: 6.9K

“So you understand the game now?” You asked the man sitting across from you.

He gave you a look, blue eyes boring into your skin as you raised your brow to him. You had butterflies in your stomach, whether that was because you were sitting across from a beautiful man or it was the moonshine kicking In. He hesitated, knowing this game could end up in hurt feelings or you being completely grossed out about his redneck life. Opening up to people wasn’t Daryl’s strong suit.

“Fine…” he mumbled.

You guys had been on the road for days, only stopping to set up camp to rest and cook your squirrels or whatever Daryl had hunted for y’all. You missed your family, your family that you wouldn’t even look at twice before all this but yet they were the closest people to you. Daryl was unfortunately a part of that little family but he made you feel like a burden, he was never your favorite person ever but at this moment he was.

He was the only one left to you, he was the only person left of your entire fucked up family you had. You had broken down so many times, crying at night hoping Daryl didn’t hear… he always did. He wasn’t too good at feelings so he never said anything but he wanted to. But here y’all were now, sipping on moonshine after Daryl had picked it out for you. He thought maybe it would take your mind off things… if it ever will be taken off your mind.

“Okay great!! I’ll start!” You said, smiling wildly as you thought about what you’d say.

You were usually well reserved, never really opening up to anyone but carol and maybe Rick at times. But you were tipsy, the moonshine burning low into your stomach and you were let loose. If someone were to tell you that you would be in an abandoned trailer with moonshine in your hand next to a pretty redneck?? You’d laugh in their face.

“I’ve never…. Drank before… I mean besides this.” You said, smirking over at Daryl.

Daryl rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his moonshine before putting it back down. It amazed you how he didn’t even make a face when he downed it, he’s definitely used to drinking you thought.

“Okay… it’s your turn!” You said

Daryl thought, there’s not much he hasn’t done so this is trying to rack his brain to find out something you have done that he hasn’t… It was hard.

“I never read a book and enjoyed it…” he said

This caused you to chuckle lightly, it was silly that he’d hadn’t enjoyed a book ever… completely opposite of you, books helped you get through the day sometimes.

“Really?? Like never?” You asked

He nodded, letting a smirk on his face at your reaction. He didn’t like you too much but he can’t deny your beauty, especially your smile.. You brought your cup up to your lips and took a swig. You tried to not make a face, trying to mimic what Daryl did but you couldn’t… this shit tasted awful.

“Yuck.. I’ve never liked drinking…” you joked, sticking your tongue out and shivering.

“It ain’t for everyone… I just like the buzz.” He said, sipping on his moonshine willingly. You gagged jokingly.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this shit.” You said, trying to swallow down the burning sensation as it creeped down your throat.

You guys went back and forth for a bit, Daryl saying something he hasn’t done which caused you to drink and then you saying something you haven’t done causing Daryl to drink. It’s funny how a simple game could bring you two closer together which honestly allowed you to ease up and just sit back for a minute. You weren’t thinking any thoughts but what you haven’t done in your life, it really made you think about how you honestly haven’t really lived.

You liked seeing Daryl smile, you’ve never really been able to see that smile of his but now you were addicted to it. You found yourself cracking stupid jokes just go see it and honestly, this might be the moonshine talking, you couldn’t help the dull ache that it created deep within you.

“Okay hmmm I’ve never…” you thought once again… thinking of any embarrassing thing you haven’t done.

You don’t know what came over you but you just blurted the first thing that came into your head, it was strange… like the moonshine was taking over. Your lips had become loose, not able to control them because you were far too gone for that now.

“I’ve never had sex” you were surprised you even said it and it kinda grossed you out.

You were definitely not yourself right now, you would never willingly say that to anyone. You weren’t ashamed of it but it can be a little embarrassing due to the fact you’re in your 20s and still a virgin. It’s not that you didn’t want to or you were actively trying to not have sex, it’s just something that never crossed your mind ever when you were with a person. You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends, all of them have tried but you always told them you weren’t ready for it.

You looked up at Daryl, seeing that his facial expression never changed… but instead he lifted his cup to his lips and chugged down his moonshine.

“Sorry I…” you started, not able to finish before Daryl asked a hard hitting question.

“Why not?” He asked, setting his cup down.

You were surprised Daryl even continued the game after that, it was all fun and games… no gross shit until you brought that up. You were embarrassed, wishing you never said anything but honestly intrigued about what Daryl would say about the subject.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, staring down into your moonshine glass. “I've just never been interested enough in someone to do it…”

You looked up at Daryl, making sure he was paying attention to you before you went on. He was staring at you with a different look in his eyes than usual, it wasn’t his usual hard stare he gave everyone. It was softer but still with the same hardness, his pupils were bigger… almost black as he bore them into your skin. When you say you weren’t yourself right now, you meant it. Without even having to rack out your courage from your brain, you looked daryl right in the eyes.

“Until now…” you confessed which created an even deeper ache within you.

Daryl’s eyes stayed on you, not flinching or moving off of you… not even once. You thought maybe he didn’t hear you at first and honestly deep down you wish he didn’t, you were embarrassed at your sudden neediness. Then you thought maybe he didn’t get your hint, maybe you were being too subtle about it. You hoped maybe he would be able to drop it so it would save the embarrassment but what you didn’t know was it lit something inside Daryl.

His blood ran cold when you said that, he watched as you gave him a clueless, innocent look as those filth covered words slipped out of your mouth. Daryl hated how childish you were, how cheery and how you were so optimistic about the world ending… yet he couldn’t shake the thought of you below him as you sucked his dick, he imagined you would be so sloppy with it. He could imagine your drool spill over his cock, making a mess out of yourself. His favorite day dream was you on your hands and knees in front of him as he rammed himself so deep inside you, his hands shoving you down into the pillow as you took his length like the whore you are… or the whore he thought you were.

You being a virgin struck a different feeling into Daryl, you had never been touched before and you never even wanted to be touched… except by Daryl. It was almost as if you waited for him, waited for him to take what was his. He just hates how it had to be this way, after losing everyone and getting drunk on moonshine but Daryl didn’t mind. Daryl had been waiting for this moment since he met you and knowing you’re a virgin was enough to send him off the edge.

“Take your shirt off…” was the only thing he said, suddenly you sobered up.

You were now hyper aware of everything happening in this moment. You could hear the walker outside, you could feel the carpet underneath you and how filthy it was, you could hear every breath that came out of Daryl… they were much deeper than before. You took a moment to let his words linger, making sure you heard him right but after a moment… you did what you were told.

You slowly unbuttoned your shirt, each button showing more and more skin to Daryl causing his breath to hitch. You heated up with every button, finally getting to the final one and then allowing your shirt to slide down your arms. You sat tall, watching Daryl’s eyes scan over your breast. Daryl sat there for a minute, just staring as your face began to heat up more than it already had been.

Then after a moment of hesitation, Daryl stood up and made his way over to where you sat on the floor. You could see how hard he was through his pants, his big cock standing to attention causing your mouth to water slightly.

“You really want this?” He asked, staring down at you as you sat on your knees like an obedient whore you thought you’d never become

You nodded violently, hands scratching at your thighs as you held back the need to touch him. Daryl just chuckled at your actions, running a hand through your hair, getting a good look at your innocence before he completely destroyed you.

“Then you're gonna have to work for it…” he grinned, taking his other hand so he could undo his belt slowly.

You were nervous to say the least, you had dreamed about this for months but it finally freaked you out. Not to mention you’ve never done anything like this, what if you weren’t good enough for him. You watched as he slowly undid his pants, watching as he went teasingly slow. When his pants were successfully undone, he pulled them down so they were down to his knees. You could see his cock straining against his boxers, you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction.

Then Daryl shed the last piece of clothing that covered himself, pulling down his underwear which allowed his cock to spring free. You felt a whole world wind of emotions, excitement, nervousness and pleasure all running deep within your bones. He was much bigger than you expected, causing everything wrong to go through your brain. Will it fit? Is it going to rip you open? Will you be able to take him? Daryl saw your nervousness, giving you a reassuring scratch on the head.

“We don’t have to… we can stop now.” He said, lifting your head to look up at him.

He gave you the softest look you had ever seen him give anyone, his fingers danced along your chin as you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. You shook your head, readjusting yourself on your knees but really… you were trying to silence the ache that was affecting your entire body at this point.

“No… I mean, yes I want this I just..” you paused, biting your lip nervously. “I’ve never done this before… like any of it… I don’t know how.”

You tried to explain it the best you could, you thought you sounded stupid but Daryl knew what you meant. Daryl gave you a smirk, setting his hand on his dick as he slowly pumped it… you saw it twitch out of the corner of your eye. Daryl placed his hand back in your hair, not roughly, not trying to force your head down on him but it was comforting. His hand lightly scratched your scalp, trying to ease your nervousness.

“I’ll teach ya, ya can’t really mess it up so don’t worry.” He joked, even despite your nervousness you let out a chuckle.

You stood taller on your knees, coming face to face with his throbbing cock. You watched as Daryl thrusted his cock into his hand, watching as he set a slow pace for it. He engulfed his entire length in his hand, making sure to slide his fingers along the tip at times.

“Since you are a beginner, go ahead and start at the tip.” He spoke, watching as you looked up at him and then down at his cock once more.

You nodded, getting your lips wet as you opened your mouth and attached it to the pink flush tip. You saw a porno or two, seeing how the girls would give the tip kisses and tiny licks to tease the man. You started off making circles with your tongue on the tip, pulling off to set small kisses to it before going back. Daryl’s groans caused you to go a bit deeper, doing the same thing with the top of his cock.

“Good girl…” he groaned out, his hand in your hair giving you a reassuring scratch once again. “Now when ya think yer ready… hollow your cheeks and take as much as you can of me.”

You moaned at the pet name, loving the way he was talking you through it all. You started small once again, taking in small amounts of him. Your tongue went crazy on him, you weren’t quite sure what to do with it but it made his cock twitch in your mouth so you thought maybe you were doing it right. You bobbed your head up and down, each time you took more and more of him in your mouth.

You could feel Daryl tense up, you could see how hard he was trying to stop his hips from bucking… oh how he wanted to watch you choke and slobber all over his cock, but Daryl wasn’t that mean. Your first time was already going to be in a piss stained trailer, he might as well let you take your time with it. Daryl’s hand was now grabbing at your hair, which part of it was to help you bob your head up and down at a good pace, the other part was because your mouth just felt too good on him… he needed to grab something.

“Fuck… y/n, your doing so fucking good.” He moaned, you would have never guessed Daryl Dixon had such pretty moans.

You smiled on his cock, the praise was getting to your head slightly, you would even say it was causing you to get too big of a head. You attempted to take all of him all at once, you just wanted to make him feel good but you completely forgot about the fact you hadn’t done this before, you were still so new to it. You took your mouth almost all the way off before shoving his cock right down your throat, you gagged causing you to retract back from it.

“Woah there…” Daryl said, seeing how your eyes started to water slightly and your lips were rubbed raw from his cock. “Ya can’t take all of me… not yet at least, you have to start slow bunny.”

“I’m sorry…” you said pathetically, you had become so needy and the only thing you wanted to do was make Daryl feel good.

“ ‘s okay, you can try again if you want or we can stop.” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You looked down at Daryl’s spit covered cock, the ache in your cunt was too much to bear now. You didn’t want to continue but you needed to, it felt like you were out of oxygen in the stuffy room you had been in and the only thing that could ease that feeling was Daryl. Even through your embarrassment you wanted to make it up to Daryl and suck the life out of him.

You looked up into Daryl’s eyes, placing your mouth on his cock once more. You bobbed your head at the same pace you had been before, making sure to not take your eyes off Daryl as his eyes closed slightly. You were much slower this time, taking in as much as you could, licking up the small vein that laid on the back of his cock. You tried this time to have a small head about it, not get too cocky so as to not embarrass yourself again.

You had gotten to the point where you couldn’t take anymore, Daryl’s hand in your hair wouldn’t let you go that far anymore. Although seeing you choke on his cock gave him a power rush, he would never make you do it if you couldn’t.

“If you can’t take much more, you can use your hands on the rest.” He stated, reaching for your hand and you gave it to him. He placed your hand on the base of his cock, the small section you could not fit in your mouth. “Keep it at the pace yer mouth is going… there ya go.”

You were doing great so far or at least you thought. His cock felt comfortable in your mouth, although you wanted to go deeper, you wanted him all in your mouth but you knew what happened then. You watched as Daryl gripped into the table behind him, knuckles turning white as he had a violent grip on it. His head was thrown back, his nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. You liked what you were doing to him, how hard he had to keep himself contained. Who knew that you could do this to someone like Daryl Dixon.

“Doing so good y/n… fuck ‘m gonna cum..” he groaned, hand gripping harder at your scalp. “Gonna cum all over those tits…”

The idea excited you, the idea of you covered in Daryl’s cum, watching as he covered your tits with his seed. You picked up the already fast pace on his cock, taking him further into your mouth. He had gotten quite good at it, a little over half of his cock was fitted deep within your mouth and you could probably take in more if you really tried.

You could feel Daryl’s cock twitch more and more, his hips starting to buck into your mouth slightly, not enough to gag you on him but enough to feel in the back of your throat. You sucked harder, wanting to see how pretty he looked as he came especially when he came from you sucking his cock.

“Shit.. gonna cum…” he said once more, pulling you off of him with his hand and then placing his hand on his cock. “Pull your bra down… lemme see those pretty tits hm?”

You did as you were told, pulling your bra down so your tits were exposed to him. He gripped his cock harshly, starting his thrust at a fast pace as he looked down at you. Your eyes were lust blown and slightly teary, your mouth was wet with your own spit which had dribbled down onto your tits, your tits heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath. Daryl grunted as he thrusted into his hand, his hand that was in your hair reached down to grab one of your breasts.

He fondled it in his hand, he was delicate with it though. Pinching the skin softly as not to hurt you, but his hips snapped violently against his own hand. You watched as his face was engulfed by pleasure, watching as his orgasm took over his body. Daryl thrusted a few more times into his hands as his cock spilled his cum all over your tits, exactly where he said he was. He pumped himself through his orgasm, the ropes of cum landing perfectly on your tits. You were too busy watching as his face looked so angelic as he came on you, doing the most disgusting thing but still looking so pretty while doing it.

Daryl milked himself onto you, almost completely covering you with himself. Daryl slowly came down from his high, cock still throbbing as it became hard again. You could do nothing but watch, watch as Daryl literally lost his mind for 20 seconds and then became his composed self after.

“Good girl… you did good for me.” He breathed out, moving strands of your hair from your face so he can get a good look at you once again. You were so obedient to him, it turned Daryl on to the max. “You still want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together once again. The ache just wouldn’t go away without him fucking you, you couldn’t keep yourself contained anymore. If you had to beg Daryl to fuck you, you would in a heart beat. Daryl nodded down at you, looking around the trailer… for something.

“I’m not gonna fuck you on a dirty floor, I’ll go get a sheet for the couch.” He said, walking back into the trailer. Leaving you there with his cum coating your tits.

You were so ready, you didn’t think you could be this ready for anything but you were. You tried to sit still but you couldn’t, you fidgeted on your knees trying to keep yourself from touching yourself then and there. Your nervousness nowhere to be seen, you were suddenly sober and ready for the pretty redneck to go ram you into the floor.

“You ready?” Daryl said from behind you, you were so in your own head you didn’t even realize Daryl had sprawled and put a sheet on the couch already. You looked up at him, seeing him hold out his hand for you to grab.

You looked down at his hand and then back up at him, with a smile, you took his hand in yours. He helped you up onto your feet but that didn’t last long before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness but he didn’t try to stop you, no he just grabbed onto your hips and pulled you closer to him.

You slipped your tongue within his mouth, feeling every crevice of his mouth as his tongue fought with yours. As you were too busy trying to tongue fuck his mouth Daryl had walked you back onto the couch, knocking things off of tables as he did so. He laid you on the couch, your legs wrapped around him tightly. He supported himself with his arms but you pulled him down on top of you fully, wanting to feel his warmth in you as much as you could.

Daryl let it happen, letting you do whatever you needed to make yourself comfortable. Daryl snaked a hand down your body, creeping them into your pants and underwear as he slipped a finger through your slit. The sudden touch on your bundle of nerves caused you to gasp, no one had ever touched you there before and his rough hands had felt they were made for it. After Daryl had collected a good amount of slick on his fingers, he pulled it out of your pants and placed his fingers in his mouth.

“So wet… god can’t wait to fuck you.” He said, pulling you in for another kiss so you could taste yourself.

The makeout session didn’t take too long because as you were too lost in Daryl’s lips, he was pulling the rest of your clothing off along with his. When you had finally pulled away from his lips, you both were completely naked and your bodies were pressed together in one sticky and sweaty mess. Daryl looked down at you as he rubbed his cock between your slit, allowing himself to get as wet as possible.

“Are you ready for me bunny?” He asked, brushing your hair with his hands comfortably so you were feeling as safe as he could.

“I’m ready Daryl…” you whispered, pecking his lips softly.

Daryl loved how soft and sweet you were but he knew what came next, the sting of him stretching you out and the pain of your experience. Daryl wanted this probably as much as you but he hated being the one to take your virginity, he didn’t want to pain you in any way especially if he couldn’t control the pain. Down the road he’d show you good types of pain, how pain can make you feel good but this isn’t one of the pains he would want you to experience.

“It’s gonna hurt but only for a minute okay? You tell me when you want me to stop.” He stated, watching as you nodded.

You were too lust driven to understand the meaning of his words, you weren’t expecting to hurt that bad. Daryl nodded, grabbing onto your hand so you could squeeze it if needed. He lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself in slightly. He watched as your brows furrowed and your eyes closed, he could tell you were already starting to feel the sting. He went in deeper, hoping it didn’t feel too much different but your yelp proved differently.

“ ‘m sorry..” he whispered, leaving soft kisses on your neck and jaw.

Daryl could feel your hand squeeze his harshly, you took in a harsh breath as the sting continued as he pushed more of himself in. He once again dragged his fingers down your body so he could rub the bundle of nerves, hoping that would take your mind off the pain for maybe a moment so he could push more of himself in you.

You felt like being ripped open but it was a weird good way, it wasn’t something you would like to feel any longer but it felt nice to know It was Daryl Dixon's pretty cock that was causing you this pain. Daryl tried to be quick with it, trying to shove himself in without causing too much pain. His quick work on your clit made it a little less painful, now the pain and pleasure mixing together to make a beautiful feeling deep in your stomach. It was complete hell for Daryl, he was only seconds away from going completely feral and his patients were wearing thin. He kept composure, trying to just focus on the way your face scrunched in pain.

“Are you almost in…” you gasped as he continued to ever so slowly inch into you.

He was almost half way in, he took moments to allow you to adjust to his size here and there but he was trying to make this go as fast as possible so you were able to feel our pleasure. You were soaked to say the least so Daryl was slipping right in, it’s just the pain and your contracting walls that caused his speed.

“Almost there… just a little more bunny.” He said, suddenly liking the pet name he’d given to you.

He continued to slide himself in slowly, only picking up the speed on your clit to make it easier for you all the while he peppered your neck with love bites. Daryl wasn’t a very affectionate man but right now he had a mission to make you feel as safe as he could make you and if he had to break down all his walls, he would. You had started to get a little fidgety, wanting to reject his cock out of you but also wanting him inside you fully… you craved it. Your body was heating up, your eyes filled with tears as the sting became so much and moans had slipped your lips like water out of a faucet.

You had never felt quite like this before, sure you’d touch yourself at night and one time you had dry humped one of your exes but it was nothing like this. You felt so full yet so empty all at the same time, you needed and wanted more even throughout the pain that coursed through your body. When you thought you were going inside, you felt Daryl’s hips fully against yours. You swear you could feel him inside your guts, it was such a beautiful feeling… being stretched out by his cock, the cock you had made cum no more than 10 minutes ago. You were in heaven…

“ ‘m in… just tell me when to move.” He whispered, landing a kiss on your tear streaked face.

You dug your nails into Daryl, trying to wait till the dull sting had stopped. It wasn’t too bad now, after a bit it had become nothing but an annoying ache but you weren’t ready for him to pound you yet. You stayed there, allowing your walls to get used to him. Daryl held back with everything he had, your velvet walls took his cock so well and he couldn’t wait to fuck them until they were worn down. Daryl couldn’t even day dream how good this feeling would feel, not even his hand could mimic the feeling of it.

You had completely molded to him, causing your walls to twitch slightly and your hips to buck into him. You could hear Daryl grunt into your ear as you teased him with your hips, you knew how hard he was trying to not hurt you… you thought it was sweet, so sweet that you wanted him to feel your appreciation.

“ You… can move now..” you said through a strangled moan.

That’s all Daryl needed, he started slow… teasingly slow even though he wanted nothing more than to slam into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge already, with the way his hand had taken a slow speed to your clit and how his cock was slowly bucking in and out of you… you could cum in seconds. Daryl kept his pace, his hand still in yours as he so softly pecked your lips.

Your moans filled the room, the annoying ache, the sting, the stretching no longer paining you anymore, it was now just pure pleasure. You were needing Daryl to speed up, you tried to buck your hips into his but your hips were sore and you couldn’t quite keep a good pace before exhausting yourself out. Daryl knew what you wanted though, he saw your face contort from pain to pleasure in a matter of seconds, he knew you were ready for a good pounding.

“I’m gonna move ya okay?” He said, asking for consent before he did pretty much anything.

“I don’t care… just go faster please!” You whined, causing Daryl to chuckle at your needy behavior.

Daryl sat up, seeing you pout as he took himself out. You asked for more but he gave you less, you were shitty but you weren’t upset for long. Daryl manhandled you basically, smacking your butt lightly to give you the hint to turn around. You did what he wanted, turning around in your hands and knees before Daryl pushed you down until only your front was pushed down into the sheets.

You shivered as the cold air hit your exposed cunt, you slightly whined due to the fact you couldn’t see Daryl. You never even thought the situation of you not seeing Daryl would give you any type of distress but here you were, ass up and waiting for Daryl to fuck you. Daryl got himself comfortable behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he looked down at your face pushed into the pillows.

“You okay? Need another pillow or a blanket?” He asked, watching you get frustrated with him.

“Jesus Christ! Daryl just fuck me!!” You yelled, loud enough for the walker outside to hear.

Daryl just chuckled, lining his throbbing cock up with your cunt once more before he pushed himself in again. You were still very much adjusted to his size, it felt like a hole inside you was filled as he did so… which literally happened but felt more hypothetical in the moment. Daryl started with his slow pace once again, this time only staying with it for mere seconds before he sped up. You twisted your hands in the sheets as his cock hit your g-spot every single thrust.

You were already on the edge before, the knot in your stomach had become annoyingly unbearable as Daryl sped his thrusts up. You couldn’t handle it, you felt like a hungry mad man who had just come across water for the first time in years. You could do much to stop yourself from coming up, you could only scream Daryl’s name at the top of your lungs as your cunt fluttered violently on his cock. Your vision went out, then your hearing and then you felt Daryl’s hands in your hair once again.

He pulled you back to earth with a single pull of your hair as he fucked you through your first orgasm. He spread your cunt apart with one hand as he continued his fast pace, his hips slapping against your ass every single time. You didn’t want him to stop, not even if your sensitive clit was begging for the abuse on it to stop.

“Fuck your so tight for me bunny ain’t ya? You needed to be fucked by my cock huh?” His words cause a deep desire within you, causing a wave of wetness to pour out of you once more.

Daryl was now at an animalistic pace, his hands now bruisingly gripped onto your hips as he thrusted you back into his cock. You moaned out a few “yes”’s and “need you.”’s as a reply to him but really it was the only thing you could say right now. Your mind was too clouded with his cock to be able to think any coherent thoughts, you had quite literally became a fuck toy for him.

His abuse on your cunt continued, feeling your cunt contract on his cock as your second orgasm within the last 5 minutes started to stir up within your stomach. It only took a few thrusts from Daryl before it came undone again, he felt your cunt spasm once again on his cock. Daryl was close, so fucking close but he needed you to cum again before he could cum deep inside you.

“Just one more time bunny… need you to cum on my cock one more time…” he groaned, not stopping his hips as you came once again on his cock.

His words made yet another knot form within your belly, not waiting for your second orgasm to stop before moving onto the next. You were legit on fire, every one of your senses tingling, your throat burned from the screams that erupted deep down inside of you, your eyes were wet with your salty tears, your skin laced with a small sheet of sweat that seemed to pour out of your. Every inch of your body screamed at you to stop but also all at the same time wanted more, mixing pleasure and pain together as you got higher and higher to your third orgasm.

Daryl grabbed onto your shoulders, lifted you up off the couch so you were unbelievably close to him. Your back was flush against his chest, he held you there, locking your hips in place as he thrusted deeper and harder into your cunt. Your body was screaming for release at this point, wanting nothing more than to explode under the pressure but you couldn’t get the push you needed to send yourself off the edge.

“I c-can’t…. Fuck Daryl!” You whined, the knot in your stomach so unbelievably tight.

You felt you were going to explode, you shook violently in the hands of Daryl as he thrusted relentlessly into you. Daryl slid his hand down to your clit, giving you an overwhelming amount of pleasure as you let out strangled moans and probably every curse word possible in this moment.

“You can bunny… your doing so fucking good for me, just cum on my cock one more time…” he whispered in your ear, lightly biting the lobe of it.

His words were exactly what you needed, that was the push that sent you over the edge. Suddenly the knot snapped, it didn’t feel anything like it did before though. It sent intense shocks through your body, every inch of your body screaming as it did so. You let out a scream, scratching at Daryl’s arm that was still placed roughly on your hips. You threw your head back over his shoulder, feeling your cunt shoot out fluids.

“God damn… fuck y/n!” Daryl moaned, thrusting only once more before spilling himself inside you.

Daryl’s cum filled you up to the brim, shoving his cock deep inside you so it can coat every inch of your insides. You watched as Daryl came, peaking at him through half closed eyes and seeing his face once again light up with pleasure. Daryl fucked not only you but himself through your orgasms, allowing you both to come down from your highs before he slid his now soft cock out of you.

Daryl held you for a minute, allowing you to go limp in his arms. Daryl wouldn’t say he was in love with you, he didn’t quite know what that felt like but the way he grabbed onto him now, half conscious as he held you softly, he would say you meant something to him. This moment all he wanted to do was protect you, he would kill anyone or anything that even tried to harm you… that terrified him.

“Uh… I’ll go check to see if that shower still works, so you can get cleaned up.” Daryl said, delicately placing you down on the couch.

You were still out of it, you could feel the moonshine creeping back up on you as your head pounded and your stomach twisted. You were plain exhausted as you watched Daryl get up and start collecting his clothes, pulling up his underwear and pants back onto his legs.

“Wait… Daryl?” You called out to him, sitting up so you could see him clearer.

“Yeah?” He answered, not even looking at you as he collected his clothes.

The thought saddened you but the only thing you thought was about how this was a one night stand to Daryl, his efforts to leave, to make you clean up after him, to be by yourself after you gave yourself to him. Daryl didn’t mean to make you feel like that but he didn’t do feelings, so when an ounce of feeling for you creeped up on him… he freaked. He suddenly felt like the world was collapsing under him and if that’s what love felt like, he didn’t want it.

“What does this mean for us?” You asked, seeing how the question left him frozen.

“What do you mean?” He tried to play dumb so hopefully you would just drop it, he begged of you to let him fuck you and leave so he wouldn’t have to deal with his feelings.

“I mean… I told you I haven’t felt this way about anyone before, I didn’t just give you my virginity just because..” you stated, eyes slightly watering as you could see yourself alone already.

Daryl didn’t mean to make you cry, he didn’t want to make you cry ever. God damn he just wanted to be alone now, he thought about you all the time, there wasn’t a single day he didn’t. He told himself that he hated you, you and your stupid optimism but it was just a way to trick himself because he knew he loved that about you. You were so happy and so hopeful, he was the complete opposite of that, and what do they say about the opposite? How do they attract each other?

“I ain’t good with labels” was all he said, not explaining what he meant by that.

It made your heart break slightly, you felt the same way about Daryl but you saw the way he pushed you away. He almost never allowed you to get close to him, ever. So you tried to push down the thoughts you had of him, even the dirty ones you would get at night. Hearing how maybe the man you had fallen in love with was willing to fuck you and than leave, it broke your heart. Daryl picked up on your change of posture, fuck he really didn’t mean it to come out like that.

“But this ain’t a one night stand if that’s what yer thinking.” He reassured me, hoping to get you to stop being so sad. “I do care about you…”

The confession made your heart flutter, you weren’t there what this meant, if this’ll be the start of something or you’ll just remain each other’s fuck buddies. What you did know was what the world meant to you, every word that left his mouth meant something to you. You knew that was his way of confessing he did have feelings for you, causing a big smile to appear on your face.

“You know what,” you started, wrapping yourself up in the sheet. “I’ll take it…”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead

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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 year ago

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I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #my good omens meta

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triptuckers · 3 months ago

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feelings that flicker - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x mutant!reader (reader has the ability to manipulate and control electricity) Summary: remy thinks you have trouble controling your powers, but there’s something else going on Warnings: none! Word count: 1.6K A/N: to think this is the third fic I’m writing today and I also finished reading the darkness within us and read and finished what moves the dead… no wifi making me do crazy things lmao enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

as remy walks into the kitchen, he notices the lights briefly flicker and the coffee machine starts beeping furiously.

‘oh, fuck!’ you say, abandoning your breakfast as you bolt over to the coffee machine.

you put your hands on either side of it and concentrate, making sure the machine’s temperature goes back to normal. remy waits for you to step back before reaching for the coffee pot.

‘I’m not gonna burn my mouth now?’ he says.

‘nope, you’re all good.’ you say, briefly smiling at him before you go back to your breakfast.

jubilee gives you a knowing smile as she nods her head towards remy. you elbow her in the side, shooting her a warning glare. you never should have confided in her about your feelings for remy. it’s bad enough you nearly lose control whenever he enters the room. you don’t need jubilee to start dropping hints around him.

remy doesn’t seem to notice any of it, as he’s rummaging through the kitchen in search for breakfast. you ignore jubilee’s not so subtle nudges as you continue to eat your breakfast.

for the remainder of the morning, no lights flicker and no coffee machines overheat.

as you go on about your day, teaching some of the kids, remy has been thinking hard.

those flickering lights haven’t gone completely unnoticed to him. every time he enters the room you’re in, the lights flicker and if there’s some sort of machine or electronic device, it also acts up. the same thing happens when you enter a room he’s already in.

the electric stove that suddenly turned on in the kitchen. the tv turning on while no one was holding the remote. beasts’ many monitors that all started beeping at the same time – and you apologising over and over, making sure there wasn’t any damage.

and always those flickering lights.

but he knows you regularly go to the danger room to train. mostly with jean, storm and jubilee. occasionally scott calls for the entire team to have a training session, and remy always watches you closely during those sessions.

you never seem to lose control during a simulation. and he has yet to see you lose control in the field.

if anything, he’s impressed by your abilities.

the things you could accomplish never fail to amaze him. in his opinion, you’re one of the best and most amazing x-men he’s ever seen. not that he would ever admit that out loud. the teasing would be endless. and he doesn’t want to embarrass you.

still, it doesn’t sit right with him the way you sometimes slip up.

is it something about him? does he bother you somehow?

he’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the conversation stops when he enters the kitchen again in the afternoon.

remy looks up to see jubilee, scott and jean. he raises a single eyebrow in question, but no one explains anything, and jubilee starts talking about the latest session in the danger room she did with roberto.

while getting a snack, remy can’t help but to think he was a topic of conversation before he walked in.

‘hey cyclops, you gon’ work with y/n on controlling her powers?’ he says.

scott frowns at his words. ‘why would I?’

‘she always loses control when I see her.’ remy points out. ‘just this morning she nearly made the coffee machine overheat and combust. jubilee, you were there.’

‘have you ever seen her lose control during a mission?’ says scott.

‘non, but it doesn’t make sense why she would lose control in the kitchen and not when there’s people actively trying to kill us.’ says remy.

at his words, jubilee chuckles.

‘you never noticed?’ she says.

‘noticed what?’ says remy, confused.

‘jubilee, he’s a man. they never do.’ says jean, before turning to remy. ‘she only ever slightly slips up when you enter the room. why do you think that is?’ she says gently

‘que? only when I enter the room? why? I thought she was just jumpy, maybe I move too quietly?’ says remy.

‘come on, gambit, use those brains of yours, you’ll figure it out.’ says jubilee.

remy starts thinking out loud. ‘she only slips up when I’m in the room. or when she walks in and I’m already there. she never loses control in the field. oh, merde, does she like me?’

‘there you go! took you long enough.’ says jubilee.

‘she likes me?’ mumbles remy, smiling to himself.

‘she’s in her room.’ says jean pointedly.

‘oui, yeah, merci.’ says remy, a bit dazed as he leaves the kitchen.

he had never once considered you might like him, and that that’s why you lose control. it makes sense now that he knows. in the field, you’re too concentrated on staying alive to focus on where he is and if he’s near.

and he did notice you seemed to blush a lot whenever the lights flickered. you thought it was just embarrassment that your control slipped, but what if it was about him?

of course he’d noticed you when you first arrived at the mansion. how could he not? you were beautiful and he’d seen you demonstrate your powers when logan asked about it.

now that he knows all of it, he doesn’t get how he didn’t see it before. clearly everyone knew but him? but why hadn’t you said anything to him?

as he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees the door to your room ahead.

what was he even going to say to you? maybe he’ll just start by asking you about your powers, maybe you were aware of why you lose control.

he knocks on the door.

‘coming!’ he hears you say.

‘it’s me.’ says remy.

the light spilling onto the hallway through the gap near the floor flickers slightly, and remy smiles to himself.

you open the door and smile at him.

‘remy!’ you say. ‘what’s up?’

since that conversation earlier with jubilee and jean, it’s like he sees you in a different light. your hair is up, and the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up. when he looks closely, he sees a slight blush on your cheeks.

‘just came to check up on you. and tell you the coffee machine is okay.’ he says.

‘oh ha ha.’ you say sarcastically. ‘thanks very much for that update.’

you step aside to let him in. he notices the workbench in the corner of the room, scattered with various pieces of machinery. a steaming mug shows that you were working on something.

‘did I disturb you?’ he says.

‘not at all, I was just messing around.’

‘you control electricity, right?’

you frown. everyone knows about everyone’s abilities. there aren’t any secrets about powers.

‘and create it, yes.’

‘and you’ve been training for a long time.’

‘yes? what are you getting at, remy?’

‘why do you lose control when I’m around?’ he says, not dancing around it any longer.

‘I don’t.’ you say, hoping he doesn’t see through the lie.

there’s no way he knows, right? he can’t. unless, of course, he talked to jubilee. damn that girl and her traiterous mouth.

‘come on, chéri, don’t deny it.’ says remy.

you briefly look at him before you reach out to toy with some of the machinery on your workbench. you mumble something remy can’t hear, so he steps closer to you.

‘what was that?’ he says.

you swallow and look at him. ‘I have issues controling my powers whenever I’m around someone I have very strong feelings for.’ you admit in a soft voice. ‘it’s how I knew I was a mutant in the first place. I nearly electrocuted my first boyfriend.’

‘strong feelings, hm?’ says remy, stepping even closer to you.

‘remy, I’m trying so hard not to burst every light in this room right now.’ you say. ‘you’re making it very difficult like this.’

‘like what?’

‘like this.’ you say, gesturing to the small amount of space between the two of you.

‘but you admit you have, in your words, strong feelings for me?’

‘yes…’

‘parfait. I have strong feelings for you too, chéri.’

your eyes snap up to his upon hearing his words.

‘please tell me you’re not messing with me.’ you say. ‘because if you are, it really isn’t funny.’

remy lightly shakes his head. ‘non, I would never.’ he says.

you notice how close his face is to yours and take a tenative step back, but your back hits your workbench.

‘nervous?’ he says.

‘no.’ you say.

the lights in your room briefly flicker.

remy smirks at you. ‘the lights say something different, chéri. would the lights explode if I kiss you now?’

you feel a blush on your cheeks. ‘I don’t know.’ you say softly.

‘want to find out?’ says remy, leaning closer.

‘yeah.’ you manage to say.

remy closes the remaining space between you, pressing his lips against yours. you’re glad the workbench is at your back, because you’re sure your knees have given up on you.

you feel how his hands come to rest on your hips. through your closed eyelids, you can tell the lights are indeed flickering, and you can feel remy smile against your lips.

but you don’t give a damn about those lights. because remy lebeau is finally kissing you. you couldn’t care less if all the lights burst in the mansion. it’ll be worth it.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

#remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau fanfics #remy lebeau fic #remy lebeau fanfic #remy lebeau fanfiction #remy lebeau oneshot #gambit #gambit fics #gambit fic #gambit fanfiction #gambit fanfic #remy lebeau

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brujamala-aka-gigi · 3 months ago

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love advice from the tarot

this a little cute casual P.A.C reading, aimed to see what's going on or what could be going on later on your love life.

pile 1. pile 2.

pile 3. pile 4.

images are from pinterest and dividers by @dollywons

꒰ঌ ✦ scroll down for the results ໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

plz consider rebloging this post if you enjoyed it <3 much love, gigi. <3

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ pile number 1 ♡︎ ˚⋅. ₊˚⊹♡.

Stability and order are going to come to your love life once you become more comfortable with your own emotions and those from others. You’ll see romance in your life whenever you embrace the ways in which you manifest your desires, as right now you might not be comfortable with things like affection or emotional vulnerability. It’s key that you keep working on expanding your horizons and developing into the person you want to become, but as soon as you stop neglecting the complexity of your emotions, love will find you.

What I find the most impressing about this reading, is that although you might not entirely appreciate traditional notions of how love and relationships work, I see you as someone who somehow attracts the type of partners who demonstrate love in traditional ways not because they don’t know better or because they follow the heard, but because they think that’s the healthiest way to love you and to get to you.

I think that you are too focused on yourself right now to think about a lover. But this is also making you quite attractive, even if you don’t have the time and energy to pay attention to romantic relationships.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ pile number 2 ♡︎ ˚⋅. ₊˚⊹♡.

Ideas are becoming way too limiting towards your ability to experience and seek for honest manifestations of love. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself to conform to values that are not entirely yours, forcing yourself to over-think stuff that is not completely aligned with your true essence. Although there’s a vapid sense of logic and balance in the way you think about love itself and your love life, I get the feeling that this amount of introspection is not coming from a need to develop healthy ways of living your love life, it’s more of an anxious response to fears about the uncertainty of what’s next for you.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a desire for romantic connections, yet I do think that you need to be honest with yourself on what ideals and behaviours could be a product of unconscious self sabotage.

For you, it’s ideal that you develop realistic and strong boundaries that don’t come from the fear of being hurt or abandoned, instead those boundaries should be created from a place of understanding that you are valuable and in order to bring value to others you need to be respected and taken care of. You have much more control and power to find success than you realize, all you need is to assume the responsibility of your own personal power.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ pile number 3 ♡︎ ˚⋅. ₊˚⊹♡.

There’s someone paying close attention to how you are dealing with conflict, they consider you to be sort of imprisoned by your own mind in this regard. As much as they’d like to give you advice, they are under the impression you are not willing to understand the harsh truths that they’d tell you out of true love. What I see here is that at the moment, no one is being able to communicate in a way that’s assertive, therefore, although many conflicts will be solved abruptly and most likely by verbal discussions and explicit agreements, this is not happening in a healthy way, even if the resolutions are useful to you.

I think there’s a possibility of you finding out someone unexpected and far from your usual social circles is keeping an eye on you, yet they haven’t found a way to connect with you. This person feels like a passionate emotional bond is necessary in order to bond romantically with you, they do find you superficially attractive but they want to deepen this attraction by getting to know you, they haven’t found the right time to do so.

It’s also relevant that at this time, plenty of people find you subtly intimidating. I see a sort of contained chaotic energy, which is not bad, but it’s also very hard for new people to come to you because at the moment, your energy feels sort of unstable. The people who come to you when you’re facing this transitional phases of personal and spiritual development, are the ones who stay for the long run or are meant to be taken as a necessary experience of learning.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ pile number 4 ♡︎ ˚⋅. ₊˚⊹♡.

A romantic interest is coming into your life. This is a person who is hard working and you might admire them because of their passion and dedication to something that’s interesting to you. It seems to me that you wish you could embrace love in a more innocent and pure way, yet some emotional scars are keeping you in a kind of contradiction between scepticism and romanticised ideals.

In general, the advice for you would be to work on distinguishing between gut feelings and anxious thoughts. I think you are capable of taking care of your emotions even when you’re under psychological stress, but this ability hasn’t been quite developed when the stress comes from feelings related to love. It’s important that you are wise about who gets access to your most vulnerable emotions, but it’s also necessary that you find ways to experience romance without it being something that gets you in situations where you keep associating love to various levels of emotional distress.

It’s also key that you don’t pressure yourself to be in control of these situations, if something doesn’t go the way you wanted to, or the way you think is the healthiest, be comprehensive with yourself and patient. Relationships need a team work.

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ Masterpost and Tarot Menu ❁༺ ˎˊ-

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nadvs · 2 months ago

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push and pull (part one)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

author’s note finally wrote the zach/rafe twin au!! i won’t be making this a series but it was so fun to write as a one-shot (that had to turn into a two-shot because i ran out of post space lol)

tags college au set in the obx universe. mutual pining. angst. love triangle. miscommunication. no smut. rafe endgame (s2 bangs supremacy) (sorry to my zach girlies)

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post

» masterlist

Everyone can tell the Cameron twins apart by their hair.

Zach’s is short and unkept, always looking like he just ran off the soccer field, while Rafe keeps his a little longer, soft strands hanging over his forehead, every edge neat and clean.

From the moment you first see them together, you can tell that the two couldn’t be more different. And you don’t need to rely on any tricks like looking at their hair to know who’s who.

It’s their eyes that give them away. While they’re the same captivating shade of blue, Zach has a sense of hope in his eyes that Rafe doesn’t.

────୨ৎ────

Your father has been coaching your college’s men’s soccer team for most of his career. When the directors of the athletic department kept pestering him about the team needing a social media presence for the school’s PR, he asked you if you’d be interested.

As a freshman, the part-time job seemed like a fun way to get to know people, so you accepted the position and made a TikTok account for the team.

Since the start of the season, of all the soccer players, Zach has been the most welcoming. He goes along with whatever you need for work, humoring you when you hold up your phone and ask him trending questions for videos, like what his lockscreen is or what superstitions he follows before a game.

As time went on, you felt yourself gravitating more and more towards him, watching him in awe whenever you came by the field during practices and games.

Eventually, he started inviting you to the close-knit team’s hangouts. You quickly and seamlessly joined the friend group within a few weeks.

Before you knew it, you had a serious crush on him. He’s handsome and funny and a total sweetheart. What makes it so complicated is that you can’t read him at all.

He’s nice to you, but he’s nice to everyone. Maybe your feelings are unrequited, but you hold onto hope that he looks at you the same way you look at him.

It’s a Friday night when you visit Zach’s place for the first time. You’re sitting in the living room with a few of his teammates and their girlfriends, your empty takeout containers scattered over the coffee table, the sound of the autumn wind rushing past the windows reduced to a whisper beneath your loud conversation.

Zach had already told you he had a twin brother that he lived with in a loft off-campus, but when you rest your eyes on Rafe for the first time as he comes through the front door, it’s surprisingly jarring to see someone identical to Zach.

The chatter continues around you as you watch Rafe toss his keys onto the end table, drop a duffle bag, and silently walk into the open-concept kitchen. He swings open the fridge, keeping his head down.

His hair is damp, sweat glistening on his skin. His shirt is plastered to his torso, the planes of his muscles angular and sharp, not leaving much to the imagination.

“You haven’t met my less handsome brother yet,” Zach jokes to you. He points to Rafe, then to you, introducing you to each other.

“Hi,” you say kindly.

When Rafe meets your gaze, he stills for a moment, eyes almost imperceptibly widening. A couple seconds of silence pass.

“Hey,” he finally offers with a quick, tense nod.

“How was your workout?” Zach asks.

Rafe pulls a protein shake out of the fridge and swings the door closed.

“It’s so fucking busy in that gym,” Rafe replies, stepping away. He turns the corner and paces up the stairs towards his bedroom.

He and his brother have always lived in different worlds. They host parties sometimes, but that’s usually as close as their social circles overlap.

Right now, though, it’s like his aching muscles are willing him to turn around and keep talking to the pretty girl sitting in his living room. But while he’s never been good at ignoring his impulses, he’s not about to flirt with his brother’s guest, knowing how much it bothers him.

Before Rafe reaches his bedroom to get ready for a shower, he hears Zach come upstairs to stop him in the hallway.

“I’ll make sure they’re out by nine,” he says quietly. “That cool?”

Zach has always enjoyed having people over and surrounding himself with friends. But he’s aware of how much it annoys his moody brother when he just wants to chill at home. Despite how much Rafe parties and hooks up, when he wants quiet, he wants quiet.

Because Zach naturally wants to keep the peace, when they moved out of Tannyhill, he set ground rules. One of them is that they’ll check in with each other to make sure they don’t let guests overstay.

Rafe looks at his watch to see it’s nearly eight and says, “Sure. Whatever. I’m having a girl over later anyway.”

As soon as Zach left the living room, you heard one of the other soccer players, Chance, quietly make a joke about how that was the most words he’s ever heard Rafe say.

It makes Rafe all the more intriguing to you. Everyone here has some sort of history with him, albeit small and meaningless. But you’re still fairly new to the friend group. You know nothing about Rafe. For some reason, you want that to change.

Zach’s eyes meet yours when he comes back into the living room.

“Still a warm and fuzzy guy, isn’t he?” Chance says.

“Like always,” Zach quips with a shrug. And that’s that. Nobody brings up Rafe for the rest of the night.

When the hangout comes to an end about an hour later, Zach trails you all out through the front door. You bump into a girl you recognize from one of your classes.

“Hey,” she says. “I know you.”

“Hi,” you say with a laugh, holding the door open for her when you realize she’s coming into the loft.

Rafe appears behind Zach and by the way his eyes hungrily travel down her body, you quickly surmise she’s here for him.

And for some reason, it stings that she’s physically the complete opposite of you. If that’s Rafe’s type, you definitely don’t measure up.

You’re not sure why your mind is running away from you so fast. Why do you care about Rafe’s type? It’s his brother you’ve been pining over for the last month.

“How’d you do on that quiz?” she asks you.

“The grades are already up?” you reply.

“On time for once,” she laughs.

“Let’s go,” Rafe mumbles to her, his hand finding the small of her back.

You know it isn’t personal. He clearly just wants to hang out with her, not entertain any small talk. But the way he’s acting like you’re not even in the room hurts.

You say bye to Zach one last time before you follow your friends down the hallway towards the elevator. Your shoes are padding over the tiles when you hear your name half-whispered.

Zach stands with a foot out his door, beckoning you. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as you scurry back to close the distance between you. You look up at his warm eyes expectantly.

“Sorry. Don’t take it personally,” he murmurs with a gentle smile. “Rafe’s like that with everyone.”

You’re sure he’s not like that with the girl he just led upstairs. But you don’t know why you even care that much.

Zach’s the one you like. Obviously if you find him attractive, you’ll find his twin brother attractive, too. You figure your brain is just getting used to it.

You return his smile, appreciative. Stuff like this is why you like him; he cares enough to try to comfort you after his brother brushed you off.

“It’s okay,” you reply. Your friends call your name, urging you to get to the elevator before the doors close. “Thanks. I’ll see you.”

Zach watches you rush away, hoping he managed to make you feel better. He loves his brother. He understands why he is the way he is. But he doesn’t like that he made a girl who was nothing but nice to him feel bad.

As he tidies up the mess in the living room, thinking about how sweetly you had offered to help clear the table, Zach realizes that he enjoys not having housekeepers.

He never liked watching people have to clean up after him. Getting used to cleaning took some time after he and Rafe settled in here when the school year began, but now, it feels good.

Moving out was the best thing they could’ve done. Even though Zach’s only minutes older, he always felt protective of his brother, and being at home with their dad and stepmom just messed with Rafe, bringing out his self-destructive tendencies.

About an hour later, Zach’s doing schoolwork at the kitchen island when he hears the front door shut. He’s used to his brother’s habits, having random girls over, never letting them spend the night.

“She’s new,” Zach says when Rafe saunters into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Rafe says, ducking into the fridge. “Do we have any food?”

“I saved some takeout for you.” Zach points to the container by the oven.

“Sweet.”

“What’s she like?” Zach asks.

Rafe shrugs. Thankfully, his hook-up wasn’t interested in getting to know him, either. She just wanted to be physical. Losing himself in the feeling of a girl’s legs wrapped around him, melting into emotionless pleasure, shutting his mind up, is Rafe’s comfort zone.

“She’s cool,” he mumbles. “It’s nothing serious.”

Zach watches his brother pick at his dinner at the counter, not bothering to sit down.

He never understood how he could have these meaningless hook-ups. Zach can’t imagine sharing a bed with a girl he has no connection with. Or never talking to her again after.

He shuts his laptop, pinching the bridge of his nose before he speaks.

“Hey, you think you could be a little nicer to my guests?” he asks. Rafe tenses up.

“This again?” It isn’t the first time Zach is giving him shit for how he talks to his friends.

“It makes them feel unwelcome when you act like that,” Zach replies. Rafe’s temper flares.

“Did they tell you that?” he snips.

“They don’t have to. Just… be decent, okay?”

“I am. You care too much about what people think,” Rafe mutters.

“Maybe you don’t care enough.” Zach’s lips firm into a thin line. “I don’t want to have to apologize for you.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles. “Who’d you have to apologize to? For what?”

Zach mentions your name and how sad you looked as you were leaving. Rafe sighs, but a hint of anxiety pricks at his skin. This happens a lot. He thinks things are fine, and then he finds out later that apparently, he was rude.

“I hope you’re at least nicer to the girls you bring over,” Zach says.

“Not every girl wants a nice guy,” he jokes with a snort. “Can we skip the lecture?”

“Dude,” he sighs in exasperation.

Rafe rolls his eyes. Zach never got that Rafe doesn’t have the ability to read people all that well, that he doesn’t know when he’s expected to tiptoe around feelings. Rafe wishes everyone was just upfront like he is.

Despite the frustration rolling through his body, he hates to lose his temper on his brother. He always regrets it after if he does. So, he relents.

“Fine. I’ll be nicer,” Rafe sighs. He thinks back to the way you looked sitting in the living room earlier tonight, your voice sweet, your smile pretty.

“She’s cute,” Rafe mumbles. “New girlfriend?”

He wonders if Rafe’s mocking him. Or maybe Zach’s just being overly sensitive. His younger brother has teased him in the past for how he’s hardly ever single for very long.

Zach does prefer to be in a relationship, to live in a promise of commitment with someone who wants to love him. But is that so bad?

They deal with their trauma in different ways. Zach runs towards comfort and connection, while Rafe would rather die than be vulnerable with a girl.

Zach would never say it, but he believes he copes much better than Rafe does. But then again, Zach is pretty sure Rafe has mental health issues that he refuses to acknowledge.

“Just a friend. Her dad’s my coach,” Zach replies flatly. “She does social media for the team. She’s off limits.”

“Off limits?” Rafe echoes. “Why? You like her?”

“No,” Zach lies on impulse. It’s not just his brother he considers you off limits to. He can’t pursue you, either. Although he wants to.

But if he admits to not wanting to date the coach’s daughter because it could end badly and leave things awkward for everybody, Rafe’ll whine about how stupid it is to be living life like that, always afraid to upset people.

They’ve had this exact conversation so many times. Zach would say that it’s not stupid to be considerate. Rafe would tell him to be selfish for once. And they’d get nowhere.

“I already told you that you can’t hook up with my friends,” Zach states.

Rafe sighs. He’s done it in the past, had flings with girls Zach befriends, then caught shit for not calling back, even though he’s always clear that he’s not looking for a relationship. Zach hates losing friends as a result of Rafe’s impulses.

“I know,” he finally says. “Relax.”

It frustrates Zach how much his brother acts like he’s high-strung. In reality, he is relaxed. Among his friends, he has a reputation for being chill and fun.

But with Rafe, he has to play this role. He’s had to since they were kids.

Zach stands, taking his laptop with him as he paces towards his bedroom. It’d be nice to talk to his brother about how much he likes you, about how excited he gets when he sees you coming to talk to him, even when it’s just to film a video.

It’s not like he can tell any of the guys on his team. As close as he is with them, he’s sure it’d spread and get back to you.

Rafe’s the only person he’d gush to, but he’d rather not listen to him whine about how Zach needs to stop giving a fuck about consequences. Because that’s who Rafe is.

“Night,” Zach says curtly.

“Hey, I’m sorry, alright? I don’t try to be a dick,” Rafe says. “You don’t want any more of this?”

Zach looks at the food.

“I’m good.”

It’s another lie. He still has an appetite, but he’d rather let someone else eat if they’re hungry. Because that’s who Zach is.

────୨ৎ────

“Whoa,” you say, scrolling through your notifications.

“What’s up?” Zach asks, leaning closer to you.

You’re sitting in a loud and overcrowded on-campus bar with your friends. It’s been a few days since you hung out at Zach’s, being pulled out of the conversation from your phone buzzing incessantly.

Zach’s chin is almost touching your shoulder as you drag your thumb over your phone screen. He smells like soap and warmth, making your heart race.

“This one video randomly blew up,” you say. “From like, two weeks ago. It has almost ten thousand likes.”

“Which one?” Chance asks, sitting across the table from you.

“The one where I asked you guys what’s on your lockscreens,” you tell them. “I’ll send the link.”

Your friends gaze at their phones around the table after you share the video in the group chat, but Zach stays in his spot, preferring to watch over your shoulder, closer than he’s ever been to you.

It’s stuff like this that makes you think he’s crushing on you, too.

“Well, that’s good, right?” Zach offers. “Makes you look good if you get us viral.”

You breathe a chuckle as you read through the comments.

“I don’t know,” you say. “You’re all kind of getting objectified.”

“What?” Kacey, Chance’s girlfriend half-shouts.

“Oh, that explains why I’m getting all these random follow requests,” Chance laughs. He looks at his girlfriend. “I’m not accepting them. Don’t worry.”

“Sunrise guy is so pure,” Roy, the goalie, reads a comment aloud in a teasing tone. “102 likes. Jesus.”

“Am I sunrise guy?” Zach mumbles to you.

You smirk, finally turning your head to meet his eyes. In the video, Zach said his lockscreen was ‘a cool picture he took of a sunrise.’

“I think you are,” you reply. Admittedly, he looked adorable in the video, just coming out of the locker room after a game, his hair messy and his skin flushed.

“Pure,” he repeats, his lips twisting. “Is that good?”

“I’d say it’s good,” you shrug.

“Sunrise guy is fine as hell,” Roy reads, laughing. “And there’s a whole thread under trying to find your Instagram.”

You swear you notice Zach blush as he shuffles to take his phone out of his pocket.

“What are they saying about you, huh, Roy?” Zach teases. “Share with the class.”

“Nobody’s saying shit about Roy,” Chance laughs, scrolling.

“Shut up,” Roy says, punching Chance’s shoulder.

Your stomach twists with unease when you see Zach open Instagram, the red message bubble mocking you.

Sure enough, a few girls dm’d him. He opens a message from a girl with a pretty profile photo.

Hiiii :) please don’t think I’m a stalker lol I just saw you on tiktok and I’m wondering how I haven’t seen you around campus?

You look away, feeling guilty for snooping. It’s a girl who goes to the same college. A girl he could very easily meet and date.

He’s not your boyfriend. You have to remind yourself that he owes you nothing. But jealousy doesn’t care if you’ve claimed someone as yours or not. It still finds a way to seep in.

You shift in your seat, pretending to continue to read comments while your heart squeezes in a vice.

────୨ৎ────

The next weekend, Zach and Rafe are hosting a party. As you get ready, you put extra time into getting pretty. You wonder if you haven’t been obvious enough.

You’ve been flirting with Zach like always, but he might think you’re just being nice, so if the air feels right tonight, you’ll try to make it more clear that you’re interested.

You arrive at the loft, trying to act unfazed when Zach pulls you in for a quick hug. He does it with everyone, though, so you’re not sure if you’re special to him at all.

Rafe notices you walk in. He’s standing just outside the kitchen, a cold beer bottle in his hand. You’re even prettier than he remembers.

Zach leads you to the kitchen where drinks are laid out on the counter, then quickly gets pulled away by the doorbell ringing again.

You pace into the bright space, gazing over the ridiculously large array of alcohol. Ever since you saw the size of this place, you’ve wondered if Zach comes from a wealthy family.

Regular college students couldn’t afford a home like this. And they wouldn’t so generously buy all the many drinks scattered atop the counter.

You meet sharp blue eyes. Rafe raises his beer bottle slightly in greeting. You offer a smile in return, your body numbing.

You notice yet another difference between them. Zach dresses like most other guys on campus, while Rafe is in a crisp button-up, a small logo stitched on the front. You know that brand isn’t cheap. Neither is his watch.

They must be well off. Zach doesn’t seem to want to show it. Rafe does.

You find a drink you can stomach, picking up the cold glass bottle and looking around for an opener.

“Apparently, I was rude to you the other day?” Rafe’s voice cuts over the music.

You look up to see him stepping a bit closer, putting his beer down on the marble with a clack and gripping a metallic bottle opener. You take his silent invitation, handing him your drink.

“You weren’t not rude,” you reply.

Rafe’s dimples cave into his cheeks when he chuckles, looking down, popping the lid off with ease. He likes that you call him out on it, instead of appeasing him.

“My bad.” His voice is husky, his words said with a drawl. He hands your drink back to you. “Zach’s always giving me shit about my manners.”

“He’s right to,” you joke.

You take a small sip from the bottle, your face pinching with a hint of distaste, and Rafe finds it ridiculously cute.

“Don’t like it?” he asks, eyes glinting.

“Just a little bitter,” you admit. You look out at the crowd, some faces familiar, some faces not.

You’re not close enough to the girl in your class, the one you saw Rafe with, to have asked her what their deal is. The curiosity has oddly been gnawing at you.

It’d be weird to mention it to her. Or to him. But you do notice that she’s not here. You take another drag from the bottle, tapping your nails against the counter to the familiar song.

Rafe can’t tear his eyes off of you, noticing the way you’re slightly mouthing the lyrics. If he wasn’t this close, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“You know this song?” Rafe asks.

“You do, too?” you say, looking up at him again as he towers over you.

“It’s my playlist.”

“Oh,” you laugh, surprised that you have something in common with him, that you both like this fairly unknown artist. “Yeah. This whole album is good.”

Rafe nods. You try not to stare. He has a magnetizing pull that you can’t really make sense of. There’s something so naturally dominating about him, like he’s silently demanding your attention.

The night Zach mentioned your job, Rafe looked through the account you run for his soccer team. Truthfully, he wished you were in the videos instead of behind the camera, but at least he could hear your voice.

You intrigue him. There’s no way to ignore it. His brother doesn’t want him hooking up with his friends, but what’s the harm in talking?

“So, you do TikTok stuff for my brother’s team?” Rafe asks. Zach has obviously talked about you to him. You wonder what else he said.

“My job description technically says ‘content creation’,” you reply. “But I guess ‘TikTok stuff’ works.”

Rafe can’t stifle his smile. He thinks Zach’s an idiot not to like you.

Maybe he’s lying. But it’s unlike him to lie when it comes to girls. He always wears his heart on his sleeve, so much so that it confuses Rafe why, after growing up around so much instability, he’s still so open to being hurt.

“You’re not into soccer?” you ask. He shakes his head no. “Do you play something else?”

“Nah,” Rafe says. “I golf sometimes, but that’s it.”

You can’t help but breathe a chuckle. Of course a rich guy like him would play golf of all sports.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

“What’s funny?” he teases, his stare penetrating.

You have to look away, heat flushing through you. Everything about him, about his appeal, is overwhelming.

“Come on,” he beckons, teasing.

“I was going to say that I’m not surprised.” Your eyes dart down to the small logo on his shirt. “You would play golf.”

Rafe’s amused. Zach never liked making it obvious that they come from money because he says it’s in ‘bad taste.’ It’s another thing about his brother that never made sense to Rafe.

“Really? Who’s being rude now?” he asks.

You look up at him with doe eyes. Right now, it’s really hard for Rafe to give a fuck about you being off limits.

“Still you,” you reply. He laughs.

It’s a surprise, the way Rafe’s not as cold as you first thought. He has a guard up and he doesn’t smile much, but he has his own type of charm.

You continue to chat with him about music and school and even your dad being the soccer coach. Zach must have mentioned that, too.

Thankfully, you’re not quite drunk yet, because if you were, you might ask him what else Zach has said about you, and that could be a giveaway of your feelings for him. And if you show interest in Zach, that would probably kill your chances with Rafe.

Uncomfortable realization pools your senses. While these men are complete contradictions of each other, unalike in so many ways, you like them. Both of them. Shit.

You down the tiny bit left of your drink, a sign of just how long you’ve been standing here talking to Rafe. Time with him has a way of slipping.

You gaze out at the party again, noticing that the living room has gotten much more crowded. And then you see Zach, sitting on the couch, beaming brightly as he talks to a girl.

Rafe catches the way your face falls. When he sees your eyes on his brother, he’s sure of it. You like him. And here you are, making conversation with him while you’re pining over Zach.

He thought you were having fun together. He felt a spark. The sting of rejection tears into him. His gut reaction is to be spiteful. To say you should just go talk to Zach if he’s boring you. Or to really make it hurt, to tell you Zach said he doesn’t like you like that.

Truthfully, as much as he loves Zach, he’s always been a little jealous of him. Everything just seems so easy for him, while every minute of Rafe’s life feels like a fight he’s losing.

Instead of hurting you, he swallows down his words with a swig of beer. Maybe all of Zach’s scolding for his lack of manners is finally working.

“Enjoy the party, yeah?” Rafe says to you. He steps away before you can reply.

Later on, you’re chatting with Kacey when you feel rhythmic buzzes in your pocket. You pull your phone out to see Zach’s name on your screen.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Finally,” he laughs. “Can you open the front door for me? I got locked out.”

A moment later, you meet Zach on the first floor, wishing your heart didn’t skip the way it does when he smiles at you through the glass door.

“I’m an idiot,” he says once you let him in. “I forgot my keys. Thanks.”

“Sure,” you laugh.

“You know, you’re the fourth person I called.” Zach puts an arm around your shoulders as you walk through the lobby. He’s never touched you like this and it’s comforting, but then again, everything about Zach is comforting. “Nobody else answered.”

By the way he’s being more affectionate than usual and slurring his words, you can tell he’s drunk.

“Why were you outside?” you ask.

“I walked someone down,” he answers. “Actually, a girl I met because of that video you posted.”

Likely the girl you saw messaging him just a few nights ago. He must have replied and liked her so much that he invited her tonight. Your heart aches.

“How’d it go?” you ask, feigning indifference.

“Good,” Zach replies. “I think she had fun.”

Of course he answers selflessly, more concerned about what she thought of him. You enter the elevator and he parts from you, pressing the button.

“Was Rafe being nice?” he asks. He obviously noticed you talking to his brother.

“He was actually telling me to leave,” you reply. Zach’s eyes widen and you laugh. “Wow, you’re gullible. I’m kidding. Yes, he was nice.”

He did leave your conversation pretty abruptly, but you’d rather not tell Zach in case he feels the need to apologize for his brother’s behavior again.

“Okay. Good.” Zach looks up at the changing numbers on the screen, smiling proudly as he leans back against the elevator wall.

His younger brother can be brash and reckless, but Zach knows it’s all because his feelings overwhelm him. He sees right through Rafe’s attempts to hide it from everyone, including himself.

Everyone thinks Zach is the emotional one. He isn’t. He doesn’t even come close to how sensitive and unstable Rafe can be.

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “I love him to death. We’ve been through a lot together and when our mom left, he…”

You look over at Zach’s profile, his lips curved into a frown.

“He took it hard and I don’t think he ever really got over any of it,” he finishes his sentence.

His inhibitions have clearly been silenced by alcohol, and you’d ask for more information if it didn’t feel like you were taking advantage of his drunken state.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Rafe’s standing in the hallway, holding his phone, having just caught up with Zach’s missed notifications.

“Where were you?” Zach says, mocking offense. “Do you even care that I was left out in the cold? You know I don’t like being alone.”

“Alright, come on,” Rafe says, shaking his head in disapproval as he pulls Zach forward by the shoulder. He meets your eyes for a second. “How much did you drink?”

“Relax,” Zach says, then laughs. “Wow. For once, I’m telling you that.”

The three of you walk down the hallway towards the loft. Your arms are crossed, still confused about your feelings for Rafe, still hurt that Zach doesn’t see anything worth pursuing in you.

“I love you, you know?” Zach mumbles to his brother. “I was just saying how much we’ve been through and how much I love you.”

Rafe’s body goes cold. He glares at you.

“What did he say?” he asks you, tense.

“I could barely understand him,” you fib. You don’t want to embarrass either one of them.

“You’re not gonna say you love me back?” Zach says to Rafe.

“Dude,” Rafe scoffs. “You cannot hold your booze. You’re going to bed.”

“Never,” Zach murmurs.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you feel too disoriented to be able to laugh.

(part two)

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader

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lisired · 1 month ago

Text

i thought you were dead

pairing: yuta x (f) reader

genre/warnings: murder, angst, violence, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), choking

summary: after investigating the activity of a local gang, your boss abruptly disappears, and it's up to you to find out what happened to him. you almost immediately suspect the reapers, one of the most infamous gangs in seoul. and yuta is willing to lend a hand in your operation, but only at a cost; forget him in the end.

word count: 20k

a/n: part 2/3 of my wanted: dead or alive series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

“I want him dead, woman.”

Every bone in your body was itching with the overwhelmingly extreme urge to roll your eyes. Though rather than lose your job, or potentially your life, you held back and replied, “Got it, boss.”

You knew this conversation had been long overdue, but that didn’t mean you were any more eager to have it with him. Your boss could be a pain in the ass sometimes. He never cut anyone any slack and he took retribution way too seriously.

That said, you supposed he had his reasons. As an inner circle member of one the most infamous gangs in the country, he had as much to lose as he had to gain. It made perfect sense, you knew, that he wanted his marks completely dead. Not barely on the cusp of consciousness.

As if you gave a damn what he wanted.

“Jaehyun giving you a hard time?”

Coming out the door of the arms building, directly beneath the entire two floors of the narcotics trade happenings, you turned when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “When is he not?”

Jeno snickered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He can be a pain in the ass. And he’s even harder on the noobs. I think you’ll get used to it though.”

You snorted. “You have that much confidence in me?”

Jeno nodded. That notorious grin was still on his face to express his amusement, but he seemed authentic as he replied, “Yes, because you’re stronger than the other recruits I see come in and out.”

Your brows furrowed together. In your three months under this gang, barely anybody had spared you genuine kindness. “What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t tried to slap the shit out of him yet.”

That was the last answer you were expecting to hear, so it made you burst into laughter.

Pleased by having made you laugh, Jeno smiled a little wider. “May I tag along?”

“Please do,” you told him, the tone in your voice dangerously close to desperate. “When I was told I was being assigned to the arms unit, no one told me the head motherfucker of it all is also the one playing God.”

That was a lie, of course. You knew early on that Jaehyun juggled both the arms trafficking operation and the responsibility of getting rid of anybody who slighted the syndicate. Your real boss’ leftover notes were thorough and neat.

But that was nothing Jeno needed to know. As far as he knew, you were merely another newcomer anticipating to make dirty money by illegal means. And you had every last intention of keeping that dirty little image in his head. You had a role to play.

Pulling a pair of keys from the pockets his hands had been buried in, Jeno chirped, “I’ll do the driving.”

You made no argument, following him to his car and climbing into the passenger seat.

After giving him the coordinates of whatever location Jaehyun had sent you off to, Jeno drove you halfway across the city to an abandoned warehouse. The whole structure looked a whole breath away from giving in on itself.

Jeno grimaced. “I’d hate to die here.”

You laughed at that, heading for the door.

Jaemin blew out an exasperated breath when he saw you entering the warehouse and stood up from a crate he had been sitting on. “Fucking finally. Jaehyun never mentioned that you’d be bringing company.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t blame him for being vexed. The drive here had taken a good minute and if he had been here since you were informed of your assignment, he had been waiting even longer.

“Nice to see you too, Jaemin,” Jeno replied sarcastically.

Surprise flickered onto your face for a split second. You had no idea how they knew each other, but it was far from impossible. They both worked for the same bastard whose bidding you were doing right now.

Jaemin was annoyed. “I would be happier to see you if you both were on time.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jeno pointed at the back of Jaemin’s pants with a sly expression. “You’ve got a little something there.”

With another irritated breath, Jaemin dusted off his pants. Most of his current frustrations seemed aimed at the fact that this warehouse was barely holding itself together. “This place is old as fuck. I think something crawled and died in that crate. Like seven years ago.”

Even though you wanted to giggle, the urge was overcome by the one to get this over with so that you could do something meaningful. “Where’s Kang Hangyeol? I’m trusting you didn’t leave him alone.”

“Do I look like an amateur to you?” Jaemin asked, waving you off. “He’s in the back. There’s no way he’s moving out of that position, dead or alive. Follow me.”

You trailed closely behind as Jaemin led you through the old warehouse. There was a clutter of dust-laden boxes and a slew of spider webs in every available corner. Graffiti that looked maybe a few years old was the only proof of recent human activity.

“What’s this guy dying for anyway?” you asked, disguising your concern as innocent curiosity. You didn’t want to make it obvious that you were trying to justify your inevitable actions.

Jaemin, on the other hand, didn’t seem as worried. This was a life he had led for years and no one would expect anything other than him to be committed. “Apparently, he’s a brother. He was caught sneaking on our turf.”

Your brows furrowed, imagining what a brother was doing on Reaper playgrounds. They had no business being even remotely near this gang and any of its less than luxurious locations. “You’re sure he’s a brother?”

“Yeah, they found him in one of those ugly masks.”

Jeno snorted.

Nearing the forthcoming doorway, you reached for the switchblade you had tucked away, unsure what you were going to do with it in the first place. At times, it was less like a weapon and more like a comfort tool. And you needed comfort right now. Your involvement as an undercover cop didn’t legally or emotionally justify taking someone’s life.

No doubt, it was the worst part of being undercover. You advanced your way through the ranks most times, meaning you gained enough authority to convince your new peers to spare innocent lives, but this syndicate was something bigger than you had ever experienced. It would take years to infiltrate their innermost hierarchy. And you didn’t have years.

Jaemin reached for the door knob and pulled it open, expecting to see a half-conscious man bound with his arms behind his back. Imagine your collective shock when you saw nothing but an empty wooden chair next to a pile of rope.

“Where’s Hangyeol?” Jaemin stammered.

“I was expecting you to know,” you mumbled, inspecting what all was leftover. There were a few drops of blood on the chair at best. You clutched your switchblade tighter.

At least Jaehyun wouldn’t be pissed at you this time. You could already imagine the verbal backlash Jaemin was going to get for this. Not even you had messed up this badly before.

Jeno leaned on the wall, entertained by everything as always. “Nah, you don’t seem like an amateur, man. Total pro.”

Jaemin groaned, “This is serious!”

Not a second later, you heard a gunshot echoing out in the main entrance of the warehouse. This felt like a setup somehow. You clutched your switchblade tighter, hissing, “You had one fucking job, Jaemin!”

He opened his mouth to say something about how this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t have to babysit you to make sure you went through with the kill, but you all froze when you heard a second gunshot.

Jaemin grabbed the bag slung over his shoulders and set it down on the chair where your mark should have been instead. He handed Jeno a gun and took one for himself, then pivoted towards you. “You sure you don’t want one?”

You shook your head. The knife in your hands would suffice. They always had. “I’m good.”

“You know what they say,” Jeno chimed in. “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

That was true for someone maybe. But even though you had gone through your annual firearm training with the academy, you were stubborn and preferred your blades. “She’s my baby.”

“That’s even worse. Who brings a baby to a gunfight?”

You were tempted to laugh, but you could hear the chaos unfolding practically right outside the door and it unnerved you. “I do. Let’s go.”

The dark hallway outside the old storage closet led you back to the main entrance of the warehouse through a little opening. You could see brothers rummaging the place and took a wild guess that they were here to take back their own.

A little headcount went on in your head as you noted the number of armed, masked men you saw lurking expectantly around every inch of the unloading site. The three of you were definitely outnumbered, that was for certain.

“I counted fourteen,” you whispered quietly. “Are we good?”

Jeno nodded, gun close to his chest. He looked more serious right now than ever. “I’ve got your six. Let’s move.”

That was all you needed to hear as you dove headfirst into the bloody sea of chaos. While Jaemin and Jeno immediately started to fire their weapons, stealing all the attention, you hid close on anything you could find and ambushed, coming up behind and dragging your blade against the cold necks of your enemies.

Your ears went deaf to the cacophony of masculine shouts as men dropped like flies around you. The sound bled into choked noises with every throat you impaled.

They were strong men, but you were swifter. Both were lethal and dangerous, but they couldn’t touch you if you didn’t let them. You were too nimble for them to keep up with, too quick.

But the one time you didn’t move quick enough, you rolled onto the filthy floor and looked down the barrel of a gun. You groaned, raising your head a little higher to meet the bloody eyes of your mark.

He was right there in the flesh, hovering over you with a sly grin as if he was proud of what he had done. You were insulted to even be held at gunpoint. Every desire to spare him immediately fled your body and you raised your switchblade, penetrating his throat without hesitation.

Not stopping to watch him bleed, you turned your head just quickly enough to see Jeno’s gun be kicked out of his hands. You wiped the blood from your knife and furtively approached his aggressor, briefly catching him off guard and kicking the gun back.

Jeno scrambled towards the gun and quickly opened fire, the sound making your ears ring obnoxiously.

“Goddamn,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval.

Jaemin came over panting for breath, glancing around to make sure the entire room had been cleared. “I think I should be getting paid extra for this.”

Jeno snorted and came to a stand, directing his attention back to your face. “Remind me to never again invite myself on one of your assignments.”

Your shoulders shook with a laugh. That was fair enough. But there was definitely bigger fish to fry right now. How in the hell did the Brotherhood know where Kang Hangyeol was being held?

The three of your phones beeped collectively. With all the fighting and being thrown you each had done, it was a miracle they were still functioning. You glanced down to read a message Jaehyun had sent.

Several bases have been attacked. Going incognito. More details later. Lay low until further notice.

Your brows furrowed. “What the hell?”

“Vague as fuck,” Jeno replied, as if he had read your mind. “He must be in a meeting.”

Jaemin scoffed. “So what do we do then? Just wait around to die?”

You closed your blade and shook your head, reminding, “You’re already going to die. You let Kang Hangyeol get away. Remember?”

“That’s not the version of the story I plan on telling Jaehyun.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you start being nice to me, I’ll leave that part out of my report.”

Jaemin hummed, as if he was mulling it over. “Deal.”

You nodded with a tiny sigh. Nothing good was going to come out of rival gangs taking turns exacting revenge on each other. You knew that like you knew the law.

Jeno safely returned you to the headquarters with a little farewell and warning to be safe before you went your separate ways. Normally, you would meet Jaehyun in person to briefly discuss the happenings of your task, but he wasn’t in his office. He would have to settle for the paragraph you sent to his phone.

Upon entering the tiny apartment you had surprisingly been offered by the Reapers, you almost immediately collapsed on the bed, worn down by exhaustion.

You had nearly dozed off completely when the sound of your phone ringing made you jolt awake. “Hello?” you answered weakly.

“Is someone sleepy?” Ten teased.

You groaned. If not for the fact that you had recognized your co-worker’s number, you would be sleeping right now. “I had a very, very long day.”

That piqued Ten’s interest. “You did? Tell me everything.”

You sat up, trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. Stifling a yawn, you replied nonchalantly, “Oh, you know. The usual running around the city, trying to look like a loyal employee, and nearly getting shot to death.”

“Nearly getting shot to death?” Ten’s voice was loud as hell, repeating your words with shock.

Well, if you weren’t awake before, you definitely were now. “I’m fine. No more bullets for me. It wasn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last either.”

You couldn’t recall the first time someone had attempted to shoot you, but the memory of the first and last time they successfully did so was something you would always remember. Across the world in the United States, on a mission to track and detain a gang leader moving in and out of the country to evade arrest.��

Surprisingly enough, with it being an open case, that wasn’t even the mission that made you quit being a spy. Until now.

“You got lucky the last time you got shot,” Ten replied, hating how casual you were about it but almost somewhat impressed. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I’ll try,” you replied quietly, fully awake but still mindful of the fact that these walls were thin and you had no intention of exposing yourself. You switched the topic. “How’s the birthday boy?”

Ten wanted to talk more about the hectic day you had, but he supposed he could let it slide this once. “He’s twenty-five and drunk as all hell.”

You shook your head in amusement. You had expected nothing less. “I remember when I turned twenty-five.”

“I don’t,” Ten retorted. “I was blackout drunk too. He’s not going to remember either.”

You snickered. As long as Mark was having fun, that was all that mattered. “He should go wild. At that age, life becomes more about experiencing and less about surviving.”

“I assume that’s why you think barely dodging a bullet is no big deal?”

You resisted a roll of your eyes. Leave it to Ten to be utterly dramatic when it came to all things big and small. “No, actually. I call that focusing on the things I can control and not dwelling on what’s behind me.”

Ten sighed. You were insufferably stubborn, and even when you had gotten shot your first priority was still your work. They had to more or less chain you down to make you rest. “Whatever,” he replied, tone laced with disapproval. “Do you want me to put him on?”

“Yes, please.”

There was a moment of shuffling as Ten went to find Mark, not that it took very long. In a matter of seconds, you heard Mark enthusiastically greeting you by your name.

“Hey, birthday boy,” you said happily, content to hear your co-workers’ voices. It brought them peace too. Knowing you were still alive and breathing somewhere. “How much did you drink?”

Mark chuckled. You could imagine he was rubbing his nape right now. “Not gonna lie, I have no idea. But I’m feeling good.”

“As to be expected,” you replied, leaning back a little against the headboard of the bed. “How have you been?”

“I’m honestly bummed that you’re not here. But hey, I did finish this case I was working on. I kept asking myself what you would do.”

You snorted. “And that’s how you solved the case?”

“Well, Ten and Jisung helped too,” Mark confessed.

You laughed.

“What about you?” Mark asked. “How’s the case going? I heard Ten screeching something about you almost getting shot. You good?”

Your mind brought you back to that moment for a second, being knocked underneath the mark and coming face to face with the barrel of a gun, but you banished the thought away. “I’m good. Not a nick or bruise.”

Mark hummed. He chose to believe you had everything under control. It wasn’t that he didn’t worry about you sometimes, but he knew what you were capable of and admired your strength. “And the case. How do you feel about finding Kun?”

Something about the mention of your boss made you frown. After retiring from being an undercover spy three years ago, you decided to make yourself useful in other ways, and had been transferred directly under his unit. You had mainly adjusted to handling organized crime without being on the field yourself.

A few months ago, Kun had been investigating a gang called the Reapers. He’d been playing it close to the chest and you only found out because he had been acting suspiciously lately. He made you swear to secrecy, which you did. Until he disappeared into thin air.

The worst part was that he had been missing for literal months and you didn’t feel like you had made any significant progress. You knew deep down that his chances of being alive were slimmer than ever, but you wanted to have faith in the odds. Kun had dedicated his entire life to the force, but he wanted to settle down someday. He wanted a wife and maybe a couple of kids.

The thought that he would never get to do those things chilled you to the core every time it crossed your mind. You sighed and replied honestly, “I feel like it’ll be a while, but I’m doing everything I can.”

Mark would have to be content with that answer for now. He knew you would find Kun, whether it be dead or alive. He just hoped it would be the latter. “I have faith in you,” he told you sincerely.

“Thank you,” you replied, somewhat comforted by those words. “I’ll hear from you again soon. Happy birthday.”

Mark smiled as he held Ten’s phone to his ear. “Thanks. Talk to you later.”

The very next day, you woke up to another message from Jaehyun that had less to do with details about the attacks from yesterday and more to do with something about a weird buddy system. According to him, you would new a partner from now on.

You didn’t exactly have many friends here, so your first instinct was to call Jeno.

“What do you mean you already have a partner?” you asked, flabbergasted. Something told you that he had chosen Jaemin over you.

Jeno was trying his best to let you down gently. “I mean, I already have a partner. You called a little too late. It’s a shame we can only choose one. The three of us would’ve made a good team.”

You sighed exasperatedly. You were on a to-and-from lockdown, no detours. And you needed a partner for whatever fucking reason. This gang was impossible. “Do you have some kind of humiliation kink? That fool almost got us killed yesterday.”

Jeno tried to stifle a chortle and failed miserably. “He might be a fool, but he’s my friend. I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me when you’re in cahoots with Na Jaemin of all the people in the world.”

You could hear Jeno sighing from the other line, contemplating the situation carefully. He didn’t want to leave you hanging. “Hear me out,” he started.

Although you were glancing down at the phone in the palm of your hand with a blend of disdain and disappointment, you answered reluctantly, “I’m hearing you.”

“I heard around that some of the high-ranks are taking in their best soldiers.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly, not sure if you liked where this was going or not. But you chose to think about it pragmatically. If you were closer to the high-ranks, you had more access to hidden intel.

“I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy. He’s the gang’s tracker. The one who can find anyone and everyone. If there’s anyone who can keep you safe, it’s him,” he continued.

So he was a dangerous man. Not that you were any afraid. You had met many lethal men and yet you were still breathing. “Okay. When can I meet him?”

“Right now.”

Your head snapped behind you. That voice didn’t belong to the one on your phone. It belonged to someone merely a couple feet away from you. If you thought you were stealthy, this man gave you a run for every dime you owned.

You stumbled back. Your eyes went wide. The blood drained from your face as if you had seen a ghost. And to be fair, that was exactly what was happening.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Yuta told you indifferently. The sound of his voice did nothing to put your nerves at ease. Your shoulders were cold. Your heart was thudding.

You had been located by the tracker. You swallowed sharply. It took every bit of your strength not to collapse in front of him. “You’re the third-in-command.”

“That’s me,” Yuta replied calmly. He took your phone and hung up the call. You hadn’t even registered Jeno’s bemused voice calling out to you worriedly.

To be frank, it felt like you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. This was the last man you were expecting to see. Ever. “I can find another partner.”

Yuta chuckled. “You will find another partner in a group of people who hate talking to strangers whose intentions they don’t know?”

“You don’t know my intentions either.”

That seemed to amuse Yuta more than the last response you gave him. “Kim Yeongsu. Ahn Dongil. Cho Geonhan. You still want to play dumb?”

That had your attention. Your work always came first. You would follow the trail of breadcrumbs if it meant there was a chance they would lead you to success, even if it was a trap.

Yuta didn’t wait for your answer. Apparently the look on your face said more than enough. You were game. “Go to housing. Pack your shit. I know you didn’t bring a ton anyways.”

That was a little too true, but a thought crossed your mind. He was helping you, and you couldn’t imagine why. “What do you want in return?” you asked skeptically.

The little grin on Yuta’s lips fell. You felt something gloomy inside you stirring, but ignored it the best you could. There was no time for old emotions. After a small pause, he replied darkly, “Forget we ever happened.”

“Consider it already done,” you said, cold as ice, and paid the throbbing emptiness in your chest no mind.

After you gathered what few things you had from the apartment you’d been given, you went straight to Yuta’s place. He was none too happy to see you, at least from the less than warm look on his face, but he opened his doors for you and let you inside.

Leading you down the hall to an extra bedroom, Yuta skipped the greetings and niceties. “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t bother me and don’t leave on your own. I don’t feel like getting shit from Taeyong.”

You nodded. Yuta turned and headed out, and the second he was out of earshot you grumbled something under your breath. Did he really have to be so rude?

Maybe you deserved it. Not that you would ever admit it to him or yourself. The way you saw it, you had only done everything you knew to do best. You had made no commitments. The only thing you ever promised was absolute and unwavering loyalty to your work.

Fuck’s sake, you were still in shock. You had spent the past three years of your life believing something that couldn’t have been more false. Three years of your life you would never get back. Didn’t you deserve to be angry too?

Aggravated, you started to unpack your things and put them away somewhere safe. Yuta was right about you not having many belongings. You never did when you were on missions, or even in the very rare event that you were on vacation. They would only weigh you down.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand when you were done, knowing Jeno would most likely be demanding some kind of explanation for your abrupt hang-up, and sent a text his way. Yuta is taking me in or whatever. Take care of yourself. And tell Jaemin to be safe too.

Jeno sent a message back after a few moments. Well, you thought it was Jeno, but considering the content of the message, someone else had gotten ahold of his phone. I’m always safe, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take perfect care of Jeno.

You immediately typed a response, After what happened yesterday? Doubtful.

Will you ever let me live that down?

Unlikely.

Jaemin was probably somewhere rolling his eyes at your message. In a few seconds, he answered, Are you a human or a magic eight ball?

You laughed a little at that. Some of the stress elevated from your chest, though not by much. You were still fighting in a close battle with your feelings - shock, anger, bitterness. All of the above.

They were becoming almost uncontrollably strong and the last thing you wanted was to be unable to put a rein on your emotions. You stood up and headed out what was your room for the next who knew how long, checking out the apartment to distract yourself.

You had been here before. Once. You had gotten hurt and since it was the closest option, Yuta opted to bring you back to his home for the first time to take care of you. The other times you only met in hotels.

He had taken you to his living room and prompted your legs up on the coffee table, gingerly tending to your injuries. You remembered the guilt in his eyes every time he heard you hiss and saw you grimace. You remembered the way he tried to kiss it better.

Even now, that same coffee table was still here three years later. The apartment was more or less as you remembered, but Yuta wasn’t. He was so much colder than he was before, but maybe you had done that to him.

None of it helped. You were still emotional. Remembering the way things used to be only strengthened the tremor in your heart. The only reasonable thing you could do now was focus on your work. At the end of the day, you had a job to do, after all.

You spotted Yuta with a cup of coffee in the kitchen and mustered the courage to approach him, announcing, “I have a question.”

Yuta winced his eyes closed. “What about ‘don’t bother me’ was confusing to you?”

You took his annoyance in stride. “This group and the Brotherhood are basically at war with each other. Why?”

Yuta shrugged, sipping from his coffee. “We’re their only competition. Do the math.”

You hummed. You had learned that the Reapers dominated the drug market and it was their most lucrative branch of business. Even though you worked beneath its entire two floor levels, you were never allowed to become too privy to the operation itself. It was forbidden knowledge if you were too new. “Have you ever run into one?” you asked curiously.

“Nope,” Yuta replied nonchalantly. “They’re all mousy about showing their faces and they wear weird masks and stuff.”

That you had learned from your encounter with them the other day, which you wondered if was worth mentioning to Yuta. You decided against it for now. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“You want to know who killed your beloved department chief,” Yuta sang knowingly, setting his mug of coffee down on the counter.

Those words made you shudder, wondering if he had been keeping tabs on you, but you kept pressing. “Was it the gang?”

Yuta initially shook his head, but then he seemed to genuinely think about it for a second. The silence only served to make you anxious. There was a small pause before he answered, “Well, if someone did, neither of us signed off on the decision. We don’t kill cops. It’s too messy. I don’t like messy.”

You believed him. Though the decision to meddle with cops not being greenlit by the inner circle didn’t mean that any low-ranks weren’t involved. You had to keep digging. “I’m assuming all the names you gave me were low-ranks then,” you replied, piecing things together. “I haven’t ran them through the system yet.”

“They’re low-ranks who had pretty bad prior run-ins with cops,” Yuta explained.

You were surprised they would knowingly even take in anyone like that, considering how much they seemed against it. “One of them probably did it, then.”

“When you find out, let me know so I can hang them on a billboard in town square,” Yuta said coolly, to no one’s surprise.

“Or you can let me bring them back to the station and we’ll persecute them to the highest extent of the law,” you suggested instead.

Yuta shook his head, none too enthusiastic to let you do things the legal and proper way. If someone in his gang had done this, they had violated a highly important rule that was more like a law of his own. “My way’s quicker.”

You rolled your eyes while he wasn’t paying attention. There was never any use arguing with Yuta Nakamoto when he wanted something. You learned that early on. He was unshakable in his ways and couldn’t be bent and manipulated into shape like the other pawns you’d hunted.

But that was what you had liked about him. At least, one of many things on his abundantly long list of attractive traits. The others had only been deliberately chosen expendable tools to leech new intel off and dispose of when you got what you wanted.

When you met Yuta, however, you knew he could never just be another pawn in your twisted game of survival. He was too intuitive, too perceptive for his own good and yours. You never had the upper hand for long with him. You both had something to lose in mingling with each other, and strangely enough, that made things more exciting.

Yuta dismissed himself first as if he sensed more questions approaching and knew to disappear before you could conjure them in your head. “Sleep well. I’ve got an early meeting with the boys tomorrow morning, which means you have to come too.”

You watched his back sadly as he left. It was impressive you had gotten him to speak so much, considering he seemed to want nothing to do with you. Though if that was the case, why did he go out of his way to be partners with you?

That was the one thing giving you hope - the single most dangerous thing for someone like you to have.

Tomorrow rolled around, and like he said you would, you accompanied Yuta to an inner circle meeting. More accurately, you waited outside for him to finish while they discussed the gang’s next steps and back-up plan if their biggest rival challenged them again.

Nothing you were interested in. You only cared to know who was responsible for the fact that your boss was presumably dead. So far, there was no body, which gave you even more ammunition to keep searching rather than readily move on.

In your thoughts as you stood outside the door of the conference room, you jolted out of them when you noticed someone coming. And to your surprise, it was Jeno’s footsteps you were hearing.

Jeno had been looking at his phone, but acknowledged your presence with a baffled look when he glanced up at you. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were here too.”

The shock was mutual. You waved at him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you either.”

“Yeah, Jaemin’s here too,” Jeno replied, slipping his phone into his back pocket and giving you his undivided attention. “He’s downstairs looking for coffee. He really wanted an Iced Americano.”

You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “Fish found in the ocean. Who’s surprised?”

Jeno was shaking with laughter. “No one, I guess. I’m also not surprised that they’re kicking us outside instead of letting us listen in on the meeting.”

There was no surprise there. Reapers were painfully stingy with important information, as you had come to know. “I know,” you groaned in annoyance. “Like we don’t deserve to know what the fuck is going on.”

Jeno nodded along, bobbing his head in agreement. He leaned in, mindful of the fact there were a number of dangerous men right behind the door, and whispered, “That’s what I’m saying. Jaehyun ended up more or less adopting Jaemin and I. If you think you hate the guy right now, imagine living in his house.”

You winced, feeling sympathetic. Between his housing situation and yours, you didn’t know which was worse. “Damn.”

He looked behind him to the conference room, hidden behind a glass wall. You could see in all you wanted, but couldn’t hear a word of the conversation. “This buddy system is weird as all fuck. Meeting like this is even stupider,” Jeno said, blunt as ever. “Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.”

You hadn’t thought about something like that. In all truth, you had been thinking about Yuta. Nothing he was doing made sense right now and you sensed an ulterior motive behind his seemingly kind actions. He had never helped you for free, after all. There always came a price.

The price didn’t seem so bad back then. You could have signed your life away to him and wouldn’t have even noticed. He helped you, feeding you intel on an underground fighting gang in Japan, and in return you helped him, giving him special access to cop affairs.

It cost more now. Or at least it felt that way. The tension was unbearable and the memories leapt at every opportunity to weigh on your mind as well as your heart. Once upon a time, you only felt Yuta’s weight on your body. Things were so much easier before.

“I guess so,” you told Jeno, forcibly grounding yourself back in the moment. “But I think that all depends on the Brotherhood’s motivations for attacking and what they plan on getting out of this.”

“A few people are gonna have to die before that gets figured out,” Jeno replied darkly.

That was very true. Naturally, you had already come to that conclusion too. At this rate, you were expecting a hefty number of casualties on both ends.

The meeting droned on for what seemed like an eternity before Yuta finally stepped out of the conference room with most of his fellow members in tow. A few had stayed back for whatever reason, but the ones that headed out barely paid you a lick of attention as they made a beeline for the elevator.

Not that you were complaining, of course. The fact that you were a mere blip on their radar was a good sign, all things considered. But it made you realize that Yuta had never told them what you were.

You couldn’t wrap your head around why he was helping you. Every time you tried not to worry about the intent behind his deeds, it backfired immediately. And so when you were alone in his car, you asked, “Why are you helping me if you hate me so badly?”

“I’m not helping you,” Yuta told you, buckling his seat belt around his waist. His eyes were nowhere on you. Like you didn’t concern him at all. “I’m helping myself. The sooner you find the bastard that killed your boss, the sooner I can tie up loose ends, and the sooner we can both move on with our lives.”

He didn’t deny hating you. Something about that made your stomach churn. “Well, at least you’re honest,” you mumbled. “And we don’t know if he was killed or not.”

You knew better than to think that he was alive, but you wouldn’t accept it until you saw his corpse for yourself. The people in your unit had come to mean a lot to you over the years.

Yuta scoffed. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see something bitter in his expression. “Your boss has been missing for what? Two or three months now? You know the statistics better than I do, baby. He’s dead.”

“Statistics aren’t foolproof,” you reminded.

“I thought they would be to you. Glad to know I was wrong.”

You caught it this time, mainly because he wasn’t cloaking it. The resentment covering his words from head to toe. He wanted you to know he hated you. You swallowed sharply. Message fucking received.

The ride back was silent. You had everything to say to him, but even more pride. It would do you no good with someone as stubborn as Yuta Nakamoto himself. What would it fix if you admitted you’d done him dirty? Not a goddamn thing.

You raced into his apartment without another word when you both arrived. There were bigger problems than whatever was going on between the two of you. No issue, big or small, would be allowed to come between you and work and anyone who dared try ultimately faced your wrath.

Once in your room, you opened your laptop and entered the names Yuta had given you along with additional information you had stumbled across and cross-referenced them against the unit’s current findings. And you came up empty. There was nothing that lent any support to either of those three men being the perpetrators, other than their history of assault on cops which Yuta had already informed you of.

To say nothing of the fact that the crimes seemed very spontaneous, according to the incident reports available. Like they were simply doing whatever they had to do to remove themselves from the corner they’d been backed into. They were apprehended immediately. No repeats and nothing that screamed violent disdain of cops.

It was unlikely that their behavior would escalate from second-degree murder to a deliberately executed abduction of a police chief. You shut your laptop, groaning. Yet again, I have fucking nothing.

Nightfall came and a lot of time sped by doing even more research, but to no avail. You weren’t any closer to solving the disappearance of your boss and it was making your skin crawl. Three years away was starting to make you think that you’d lost your touch as a covert.

Uncontrollably, your mind started to wander to the past. The case that earned you your rep as a prolific undercover agent and simultaneously the last one you ever worked. A memory held you hostage, one of many.

The room was so hot you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help that Yuta’s naked body was tangled with yours, refusing to let go after a few long rounds of love-making. At the very least, the luxurious hotel room on the top floor had comfortable bedding and a beautiful window outlook of Yokohama.

Though your breath was more taken by the view of the gorgeous man in your grip. And the intimate moment you had shared together. “Yuta, I’m scared,” you told him quietly.

Not more than a few words had been exchanged since you two finished, so Yuta was surprised to hear you speak. “What are you scared of, darling?”

Your heart raced by a thousand miles per hour as you sucked in a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and level. It was not often you were made nervous by something, so Yuta had assumed whatever was troubling you was more or less life-threatening. In a way, he was spot-on.

His eyes were squarely on you, giving you his undivided attention. Which only made your heart flutter quicker. “I’m scared because I like you,” you confessed in a whisper. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in surprise. Not by what you had said, but the fact that you’d said it aloud. The two of you had been dancing around the subject of romance for a couple of months now, focusing on the main task instead of the love inadvertently developing between you more quickly than you’d hoped. He hummed. “That scares you?”

“It’s not just that,” you replied, knowing how it sounded. “We’re on two separate sides of the law. After this operation inevitably ends, I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore. I will go back to my way of life and you will go back to yours.”

That had always been the plan. Once you ultimately exhausted your purposes for each other, this little alliance would break. Though Yuta’d had a change of heart. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, cradling your face. “We don’t have to live completely separate lives forever. You’re obviously good at keeping secrets. No one has to know.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“Playing with my dick when you’re supposed to be looking for a serial killer is okay, but secretly being in a relationship with me behind your handler’s back is where you draw the big red line? That cuts deep, babe,” he joked.

“It’s a thin gray line,” you corrected, matching his humor. “And I think I found the serial killer.”

Yuta playfully rolled his eyes. He’d told you just enough about his job that you didn’t paralyze with fear whenever he touched you, in spite of knowing he had taken lives and would do it again in a heartbeat. He was a protector, a defender. “Yeah, wrong one, baby.”

You giggled. The noise made Yuta’s heart swell in his chest like never before. He wanted to defend you with everything he had, destroy anybody who dreamed of laying even the tip of their fingers on you. He would crush entire worlds in his palm for you.

“I like you too,” Yuta admitted, as if it hadn’t already been obvious. The man fucked you like he wanted to consume you right after. “More than I ever thought I would. Five months ago, I would’ve never imagined I’d be holding you in my arms like this right now, but I wouldn’t have you anywhere else. So tell me what I gotta do to keep you here.”

His words nearly had your head spinning. Your eyes were brimming with affection. “Just hold me like this forever,” you replied softly.

Yuta smirked. “I think that can be arranged.”

The memory seemed so close, yet so far away. Sometimes you wished you were still somewhere in a hotel in Yokohama or in the alps of Hakone with him pressed into your side. You pictured cherry blossoms and scenic lakes with a view of mountain peaks touching the clouds. You pictured Yuta enthusiastically showing you to all his favorite stops, hand in yours.

You couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely smiled at you now. The promise to take you to his hometown was one of the last things he’d told you. You remembered how excited he had been. And now he wouldn’t even look at you.

That hurt like a bitch.

Something else was bothering you. You more or less always knew Yuta was a powerful gang member, but you never realized he was one of the most influential members of the Reapers. The two of you had been too focused on what was ahead of you to look behind.

It made you wonder what you really knew about each other. You had seen him as an oasis away from dreadful work, someone who was passionate and intuitive. Someone who got more and more interesting every time he spoke. Someone who kept his heart under lock and key, but loved you with all of it.

Yuta had taken months to get to know. Intentionally. He preferred to take his time when it came to sizing people up and understanding them before they could do the same to him. And he was very, very good at doing so. He guarded his heart and only allowed you to see what he wanted you to see. But you knew how to disarm him.

Like you, he was also obstinate as all hell. It was immovable object meets unstoppable force meeting him. Things were still that way now. You would have to fight like hell and then some if you wanted to prove that you still deserved to be in his life, because he would fight even harder against it.

You knew he was not one to forgive or forget and he could take a grudge to the grave if he so pleased. Scorpion was his name and stinging was his game. Viper and venom. No wonder his job was to hunt and kill anybody who slighted the gang enough. He was revenge personified.

Tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep even after a steaming hot shower, you swallowed your pride and paraded straight to Yuta’s bedroom. The door was unlocked. You poked your head inside, the movement not unnoticed by Yuta. He was still awake.

“The day is already over,” Yuta said dismissively, glancing away from you. “You can bother me with questions tomorrow.”

“I’m not here to ask questions.”

Yuta raised a brow, turning to you again. “Then why are you here?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was going to make things awkward. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” you whispered.

“You don’t want to sleep alone,” Yuta repeated, as if he had misheard you.

You nodded slowly. When he echoed your words back to you like that, it only made you feel stupid for thinking he would let you share a room with him, let alone a bed.

Yuta contemplated your words for a while, mulling a decision over. After a moment, he sighed, relenting. “Come here.”

That surprised you thoroughly. You were half expecting him to tell you that he didn’t give a damn and ask you what you wanted him to do about it. You took a few tentative steps over to him.

Yuta quirked his brow, patting the spot beside him. His skin looked like honey in the golden-yellow hue of his lamplight. “What are you waiting for? Get in the bed.”

You hesitantly crawled into the bed, underneath his sheets. You were scared of something. You didn’t want to make any more mistakes when it came to him.

Yuta could practically smell your fear like the musk of an animal. He couldn’t help it. He had seen all of your emotions, especially the ones you pretended not to have in front of others. And he knew them intimately.

He suppressed a smirk. Was it wrong to bask in it a little? “What are you scared of?” he asked.

Those five words made you freeze, remembering where you had heard them before. That night you confessed your feelings to Yuta in a Yokohama hotel. “I’m not scared of anything,” you lied through your teeth.

Yuta knew you were lying. He always did, after all. “Tell me the truth.”

You swallowed. He was always so good at reading you. The words were at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say them. “I… didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve had women in my bed before, you know,” Yuta replied with a snicker. “I think I’ll be okay.”

You almost rolled your eyes, but then you started thinking about how many women had slept beside him since you weren’t in his life. Your mind was picturing Yuta with some faceless girl, giggling naked underneath the sheets as you had done three years too long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, turning around with your back to him. “Goodnight.”

Yuta called out your name sternly. “Look at me.”

You slowly faced him. It was hard to look him in the eyes, but you did it anyway. You wanted to seize the control back.

Never in a million years would you have assumed that of all things, Yuta would kiss you restlessly. You reciprocated without hesitation, falling into the kiss as if you were picking up where you’d left off.

Yuta tangled his fingers through your hair, lips moving against yours with something that was dangerously close to pining. Your heart raced at the thought, wondering if he missed you the way you missed him. Three years was too long to be without the only man you’d ever loved.

Full of surprises, Yuta pressed his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and marking you as his possessively. He would never admit it to your face, but that was his intent. You couldn’t resist a moan. Yuta knew exactly what to do to get you falling apart in his arms and begging for more like you just couldn’t get enough.

Your entire body burned with fever. Your eyes winced closed when Yuta sank his teeth into your flesh, the sensation teetering somewhere on that thin line between pain and pleasure. You knew he would leave behind a number of bruises by the time he was finished with you, and you weren’t complaining.

Yuta had gotten a taste of you and now he couldn’t will himself to stop, against his better judgment. The part of him that wanted to loathe you with every fiber of his being would have to be put on hold for now. He wanted you too badly. His ever-growing resentment for you be damned.

You missed kissing Yuta to the last breath. Your body remembered what it was like, tasting and sucking on each other’s tongues, and it started to shudder with excitement at the memory. Amongst other things.

Yuta recognized the telltale signs of you becoming aroused and decided to take things a step further, testing the waters to see if they would slam him against rocks. He brought a hand to your thigh where he knew you were weak and defenseless, tenderly kneading the skin.

Like clockwork, you were tensing underneath his hands, needily pressing your thighs together. Goddammit it, he still remembered what your weak spots were and how to use them to his advantage. There was something about his warm hand on your skin clashing with the cold nudge of his rings that made you shudder.

“Yuta,” you called out, reaching your breaking point.

He didn’t say anything, having too much fun teasing you and watching you get worked over something so simple. “Hm?”

You stifled an irritated groan. He knew exactly what you were going to say, and you knew he only wanted to hear it from your own mouth. “I want you,” you confessed, as if it wasn’t obvious.

Yuta watched your face, recognizing the look of absolute dwindling patience, and chuckled. “You want me how?”

“However you want.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in astonishment for all of two seconds. Given the circumstances, he hadn’t expected to hear you say you would let him have you however he wanted, but it damn sure did wonders to turn him on. More than he was already, that is.

You were less surprised when Yuta stole another steamy and borderline erotic kiss, his hands settling firmly on your jaw instead of combing through your hair this time. His tongue in your mouth had your heart fluttering and your body scalding with relentless desire.

Yuta withdrew from the kiss to toss his shirt above his head. You mirrored him, and in the few seconds it concealed his face from your view, you were oblivious to where his darkening gaze had sunk. It wasn’t until your shirt was cast into oblivion that you realized he was staring at your belly.

You glanced down, having forgotten about the long red gunshot scar. You opened your mouth to speak, but Yuta beat you to a word.

“Who did this to you?” he asked almost threateningly, switching on a dime.

You shook your head, reaching out to soothe him. “Yuta, it was two years ago.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

You sighed through your nose. The man responsible was already rotting in prison, for life most likely. You were satisfied. “Some guy named Levi Clark,” you told him. “He’s an American. It happened when I got invited to the States on a classified that went open.”

Yuta hummed. The response was nonchalant itself, but you could see the little gears turning in his head the way they always did when he was up to no good.

“He’s in prison,” you continued, sensing it would be worth including.

Yuta nodded. “Okay.”

Your brow raised with suspicion. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

Much, much worse, Yuta thought grimly to himself. But rather than have you worry your pretty little head off, he kissed the corner of your lips and lied, “Of course not.”

You didn’t believe him at all, not even for a half second, but you weren’t going to say anything. Especially not when he started to kiss his way down your body from your supple breasts to your inner thighs, making sure to be extra tender when his lips brushed against your scar.

His lips sank even lower, fingers raveling in your underwear and yanking them below your ankles. They were right between your legs yet still not where you needed them, pressing sweet and slow kisses on your thighs, which was nothing like how you remembered him. Yuta was hard and fast.

You let him have his way, kissing and biting at your sensitive thighs while knowing the sensation drove you wild, your body visibly exuding arousal. It was enough for him to effortlessly slip his fingers inside, but he didn’t dare, thumbing your nub with his hand solely to watch you writhe and squirm.

“Yuta,” you called out, voice teetering toward a whimper. “Don’t tease.”

Yuta raised a brow, pretending to be confused. Like he wasn’t deliberately trying to get a rise out of you. “You said I could do whatever I want with you. And I want to watch you get worked up over me.”

“I know, but…,” you trailed. “Please?”

Yuta knew how much you hated begging, so for you to say please meant you didn’t just want him - you needed him like you needed blood in your veins. And it turned him on even crazier.

He made a spur of the moment decision to get a hold of your hips and pull you onto him, making you sit on his face. You released a shaky noise when he began to suck and lick at your neglected bundle of nerves without warning, his hands gripping your thighs for purchase.

Yuta ate you out skillfully, pressing all the right buttons. Literally. His tongue was giving your clit ample attention, expertly doing everything he knew to have you moaning loudly and riding his face for more. Your arms were on either side of his head, gripping the sheets for dear life.

You could hardly breathe. You moaned a breathless, “Fuck,” as he continued to go to town, obviously keen on eating you out until you went limp and couldn’t keep yourself upright.

Yuta gripped your thighs roughly, scraping them with his nails. He didn’t mind how they were suffocating him at the moment, the sides of your knees pressing into his head every time you tensed and shuddered. Yuta kept going, nose brushing against your clit every now and then.

“Holy fuck. Shit. Fuck,” you swore, all other previously existing vocabulary exiting on the right.

Yuta was satisfied by that reaction. You tended to do that when you felt too good - forget everything except him and his uncanny talent for making you unravel. Something about knowing he was more or less the only thing on your mind made his already stiff cock even harder.

You needed this more right now than ever. You could physically feel the tension escaping your mind and body, unshackling your bones and letting you breathe. Even Yuta could tell you were in dire need of relief and he took it upon himself to make sure you got enough to make your toes curl.

“Yuta…,” you whimpered, grinding into his mouth like nothing would ever satisfy you.

Fuck’s sake, you were going to be the death of him. The way you called out Yuta’s name made him want to shove you onto his mattress to fuck the breath of you and then some. He resisted for now. Knowing how rough he could get, he wanted to be certain you were ready to take him.

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. This was the first time in three years you had experienced sexual contact from another human being and it was safe to say you were touch-starved. Your entire body tremored with the excitement not only of being touched again, but of being flush against Yuta once more.

Yuta couldn’t lie. Well, he could and he most definitely would try, but he’d missed you too. The romantic aspect of his longing aside, you were a goddess in his eyes and he always worshiped your body the way it deserved. Which, after long hours of being hard at work, you had never not appreciated.

After having been with Yuta, you knew no one else would ever satisfy you or get you off how he did. You each had been with your fair share of sexual partners, but Yuta was the only one who ever made you see stars and the whole damn moon. When work got especially stressful, you always had urges, but you took care of yourself just fine.

This was a far cry from just fine. This was mind-numbing pleasure that had you clinging onto his hair and whimpering his name over and over as if it was the only word you knew. As if he was the only thing you knew.

“Yuta, I’m close,” you told him shakily.

Yuta could tell, but hearing you say it made him push you off his mouth none too gently and onto the bed as he had wanted. When you whimpered in disapproval, Yuta playfully chided, “Don’t complain.”

Your core throbbed with need, but your eyes flitted between his handsome face and his beautiful v-line, wondering if you should’ve focused on how he licked your arousal from his lips or how hard he had gotten from getting you off as he shuffled out of his pants.

Both. Both is good, you thought to yourself, licking your own lips.

Once his clothes were off, Yuta knocked your thighs apart and gripped your jaw with one hand as he steered himself to your entrance with the other, growling, “Look at me.”

You did as told. You would steal a soul in a heartbeat for him if he so bade you. His dark eyes were staring into yours, watching your contorting face as he began to take you. And you watched him, tightening at the way his mouth hung open.

Yuta noticed your eyes wincing closed as he filled you inch by inch and when he was fully seated inside you, he slackened his grip on your jaw in favor of your hair. “Keep your eyes open,” he told you assertively. “I don’t want you to miss a fucking second.”

You whimpered, but obliged him. Your eyes were tempted to water at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock again and it didn’t take long for him to stretch you out.

“Good girl,” Yuta said, smashing his lips against yours. It was the only time you were allowed to close your eyes and you did so immediately, kissing him like it was the last time.

Yuta started to move, pressing himself in and out of your slick pussy with ease. You were so fucking wet and it was making him lose his mind. Your body took him back with every deep thrust, accepting him, little wet squelches echoing off the bedroom walls as his hips smacked into yours at a quick yet steady pace.

You were in a different world. With Yuta’s weight dangling on top of you, you couldn’t help but fondly remember all the times you had been here before, all the times you had surrendered your body to him for him to do as he pleased. You were another person with Yuta. Someone free and wild and reckless.

For a long time, you thought that version of you was dead and buried. But here she was, eating her heart out for him, ready to kill for him if he so asked.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned almost at the top of your lungs, grabbing Yuta’s shoulders to anchor yourself, as if you were afraid of sinking too far without him.

Yuta lowered his head to your chest and began to cover every inch of your naked breasts with love marks that eventually would fade a dark color. They stung vaguely, but Yuta knew you were a sucker for pain and he was more than happy to give it to you.

You didn’t feel human anymore. Rather, you felt like two feral and ravenous animals in a back and forth game of trying to intimidate and tame one another, clinging onto your survival instincts like they were all you had left. You would never back down, but you would never give chase either. You just kept taking turns circling each other in the wild.

Yuta wanted to deny the hold you still had on him, but the second he felt the way you throbbed and tightened around his cock, he knew he would forever be a slave to his feelings for you. He continued fucking you at this pace, nice and hard, deep and fast. “Fuck,” he groaned.

You yanked his hair and pulled him onto you, stringing your legs around his hips to keep him close as you kissed him endlessly, never wanting to cease your hold on his body that burned with sweat and insatiable hunger. Kissing it better again. You wanted to be sore when he was done with you, to feel the leftover ache of him in your very bones.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Yuta grumbled when your lips separated, almost as if he was upset about it. You had enticed him like a siren, lured him to a death he would die a million times for another night with you.

You weakly shook your head, but grinned at the compliment. “That’s all you,” you whispered, slowly trailing your fingers down his back.

Yuta could see it in your eyes that you were right there, on the edge he’d dragged you almost over, but not close enough to let you slip. This time he would give it to you. He wanted to make you come on his cock, pulsing with climax. Sex was power to him. He loved being in control of your pleasure, knowing that it was entirely dependent upon him.

You didn’t even have to tell him you were close. Yuta got a hold of your throat and limited your air flow, craning his head to whisper in your ear, “Come, baby. Come all over my cock.”

It was almost instantaneous. In a matter of seconds you were crash-landing from the atmosphere and slowly grounding yourself back into the hard rough dirt. You suddenly shuddered with orgasm, clasping his hair in your hands and sharply crying out his name.

Yuta chuckled, knowing that would happen. In a weird way, it was comforting to know that all his old tricks still worked on you, that he still knew your body as if it was his own. “That’s my girl,” he sang with satisfaction.

You had barely recovered from your climax when Yuta pulled out and flipped you over, then buried himself some inches deep inside you again all within a blink. “Oh my god,” you stammered, tangling your hands in the silk sheets and thick blankets.

His hips moved quicker than ever, roughly fucking you into the mattress while he chased relief, and you loved every second of it. There would never be a time where you wouldn’t be happy in allowing Yuta to use your body as a means of getting off.

Yuta smacked your ass and the sound of your soft whimpers made his dick twitch with excitement. He willed himself to pull out of you and finished himself with his hand, a stripe of his cum landing on your back as he groaned deliciously in climax.

“Stay still,” Yuta said after taking a pause to catch his breath, pulling his pants back up to his hips and meandering towards the bathroom.

Not that you had any intention of moving as much as an inch. He had literally fucked the will to do anything out of you. You were going to lay right there on his bed where you had fallen limp until further notice.

Yuta returned with a damp cloth to wipe his release off your back. His shirt was still on the floor and he didn’t seem like he was eager to put it back on. You staggered to the bathroom to clean yourself and the moment you came back you collapsed on the mattress.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, getting comfortable on the opposite side of the bed.

Yuta switched off the lamp on his nightstand and did the same, heart still trembling with the afterhighs of what you had done together. Or maybe it was out of affection. “Goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to drift off. You were sated, and it was all the relaxation needed to put you to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, admittedly somewhat later than normal, Yuta was no longer perched on your side. Your heart throbbed a little with ache, but you ignored it. This was Yuta Nakamoto, for fuck’s sake. You should have expected less.

You found your shorts and slipped them back on, more or less limping out of his bedroom to the kitchen where you figured Yuta would be hiding. And you were right. There he was with his morning coffee. He looked right at you for half a second, but said nothing.

Fine, asshole. If you won’t, then I will, you huffed to yourself, tenacious. “Good morning,” you said to him, leaning onto the counter.

“Morning,” Yuta replied quietly.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. You had trouble believing that was all he had to give after the night you’d shared together.

“Hm?”

You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance, but you both knew what you were getting at and you were trying to play your cards accordingly. “I just feel like you’re keeping yourself from me.”

Yuta played dumb. For now. “What makes you say that?”

You stifled a groan of frustration. His passive aggressive behavior was starting to get on your nerves. You would take direct confrontation over this if it meant he would stop hiding his heart from you. You knew he had something to say to you, which only made this all the more unbearable.

“You know why,” you replied, snappier. “You’re acting like nothing has happened.”

Yuta sipped from his coffee, barely a single thing off in his composure. “Am I?”

You studied him, looking for a defect in his perfectly crafted demeanor, some hint or clue as to his genuine emotions. You didn’t buy his indifference. “Yes, you are. Is there something you want to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Yuta retorted, continuing this back and forth game. The game of survival. “It meant nothing. You looked like you needed it. I was just lending a helping hand.”

You didn’t want to believe him, because that would mean you were alone in the memories, in the thoughts of what you had together once upon a time, so close to a happy ever after. “You seem to be really into helping me, for whatever reason,” you mumbled, suspicious.

The doubtful undertones in your voice weren't lost on Yuta. He knew you were trying to figure him out and check him for ulterior motives. “Is that a crime, miss undercover?”

You groaned exasperatedly. “God’s sake, Yuta. Just spit it out. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Yuta lied, rinsing his cup out in the sink and placing it gently into the cabinets before stepping out.

You exhaled loudly. He had no reason to be this goddamn difficult when he was perfectly capable of speaking about his feelings like a normal human. Like hell you were going to put up with his insufferable bullshit. Did he expect you to be some kind of fucking mind reader?

Five minutes later, almost the very second you had set your mind on following and confronting him, Yuta whirled back into the kitchen, hissing, “Why didn’t you look for me?”

Your eyes flickered with shock. “What?”

Yuta was too fed up to tolerate you playing dumb. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was firm as ever. “Don’t play dumb. You let me fade away. You never looked. Why?”

The anger disappeared from your body for a second, and guilt swept over in its place. “I thought you were dead.”

Yuta shook his head, unaccepting. “That’s not good enough. Your boss is more than likely dead, but you’re still risking your life to find him.”

You stayed quiet, unsure of yourself. Why didn’t you look? Were you leaping at the opportunity to undo the damage you’d caused by eating the forbidden fruit?

“Did I ever mean anything to you? Anything at all, dear?” Yuta pressed, approaching you like he was trying to intimidate you. To make you fear him. “Or was I a pawn in your perpetual pursuit of justice?”

In any other circumstances, you would have been amused by how poetic he sounded, in spite of how sharp his voice was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. “Yuta, you were never a pawn. You were so much more.”

Yuta grabbed your hair, but he didn’t yank. He simply held it firmly in his hands and tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you use me?”

“We used each other,” you whispered.

“No, no, no, dear,” Yuta sang almost sweetly. “You did all the using. You got what you wanted from me and left me for dead. That’s the cold hard truth, isn’t it?”

“You know it’s not,” you said, reaching out to grasp his shoulder.

Yuta snapped, “Then, what is?”

You were rooted in memory, traveling back in time three years. The last dance. The underground fighting gang in Japan you’d hunted like prey and chance met Yuta. The same gang had killed one of his own and he planned on exacting his revenge. In his own way, he had also been undercover.

The case was essentially over and it wouldn’t have been possible without Yuta’s help. After a typical long night of your bodies meeting, you had woken up one day to him gingerly prying himself out of your arms, whispering apologies for waking you and something about how he was going to head over to the fight club.

You didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw him. The opposite. You smiled in his burly arms as he veered down and gave you one final kiss of affection, daydreaming of how you would keep your illicit affair a secret from the law and betray your oath.

The next thing you knew, you were receiving a call about how the entire fight club had burned to a crisp. With a handsome number of people in it. Your heart thundered in your chest and you waited all day for Yuta to return, but when morning came and he still didn’t show, you assumed he never would.

But duty still called. You successfully carried out an operation that culminated in an ungodly number of convictions. You got your glory and fame. And only after mourning him for months did you slap on a brave face and pretend Yuta never meant anything to you.

“You want to know the truth?” you asked, fighting tears as your temper rose. You had things to get off your chest too. “The truth is that I mourned a loss that never happened and when I saw you standing there, perfectly fucking fine, I thought I saw a ghost. Now you’re punishing me for grieving you and I can’t take that shit.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the victim. We both know that if you wanted to look for me, you would have. You didn’t. Your work is all that ever mattered. It still is.”

That cut deep. Is that really what he thought of you, after all this time? That you only cared about money and power?

You stepped away from him, recoiling. “That hurts, you know.”

“The truth tends to do that sometimes.”

You shook your head in disbelief and laughed hollowly. “Is this seriously all you can bring yourself to say? After I thought you were dead for three years?”

Yuta shot back, “And I thought you didn’t care about me for three years. Who has it worse?”

Running your hand through your hair, you sighed exasperatedly and asked him, “Does it have to be a fucking competition?”

“Yes.”

This was more complicated than any case you had ever solved. It was impossible to wrap your head around in spite of how desperately you longed to make sense of this. “Why are you faulting me for this?” you asked, paralyzing. “You could have come to me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your work,” Yuta said, a hint of something rueful in his voice, but it was gone in a flicker.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Stop doing this. Stop making it seem like everything you do is for my sake. Like you never had bad intentions.”

Yuta simmered with frustration. Was it genuinely so hard to believe that he cared about you? You were everything he ever wanted and everything he never had.

“Oh, I had intentions,” Yuta replied with a chuckle. “I had intentions of whisking you away and taking you across the world with me. Intentions of showing you off to my friends and doing everything I could to see you smile. But you had me fooled, baby. You manipulated me.”

You shook your head vigorously. “I did not!”

“You did,” Yuta hissed. “I have to commend you, sweetheart. It’s not often someone tricks me the way you did. You really were something else.”

The tension in the room was becoming too much even for someone as strong as yourself and you crumbled underneath the surface, loudly confessing, “I couldn’t do it!”

Yuta paused, caught off guard. He had been slowly pushing you to the edge, but he wasn’t expecting you to break. “You couldn’t do what?” he asked.

You inhaled a few deep breaths, knowing you were on the verge of tears and not wanting to sob in front of him. “I couldn’t move into your world and out of mine, over and over. I wanted to, but I knew the guilt would eat me alive. It had to be one or the other. And when you died, or when I thought you did, I mean, I thought the universe had made the choice for me.”

That only made things worse. You had essentially just admitted you were never going to allow yourself to be with him, dead or alive. “Is that why you never looked?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, outstretching your hand to grab his, but he wouldn’t let you.

Yuta bristled. He loved you more than anything, but right now, he hated your guts. “You’re not sorry. You made your choice.”

And you were regretting it more and more by the second, wondering how you could account for lost time. “A choice I don’t resonate with anymore.”

Yuta had no sympathy. “That’s too bad. The damage has already been done. So just double down and bleed me dry like you always have, and we can both move the fuck on.”

The gears were starting to turn in your head, quicker and quicker. “That’s what this is about?” you asked, everything finally starting to click. “You want to see if I’ll take advantage of you?”

Yuta crept closer, running his fingers over your cheek almost with affection. Your body caved instantaneously, but your mind couldn’t fall for it. “I want to see exactly how far you’re willing to go to help your boss. The things you’ll do, the lies you’ll tell. The truths you’ll bury. I want to see you for what you really are.”

You were sick and tired of him acting as if he knew everything and snapped, “What am I then? Please enlighten me.”

“The death of me,” Yuta replied, seconds before closing the tiny gap between your bodies and kissing you. No matter how greatly he despised you, the weight of his desire would always overpower.

Your lips moved in fearless sync as you kissed each other breathless, as if you were in a competition to see who would suck the life out of the other first. But until one of you died, you traced your hands along any bare skin you could set your fingers on and held onto each other’s bodies, keeping yourselves close.

At least when you were like this, the odds evened out. You made Yuta insane with your body and he made you arch into his hot touches. You breathed a little less when he touched you and he died a little more when you pushed him to his high’s end. Then you brought him back to life and took his soul all over again. There was no losing or winning here. Only life or death.

Without warning, Yuta gripped your hips and hoisted you onto the counter. You gasped, clasping his shoulders. He stole your shorts from underneath you and yanked them down your ankles, tossing them into the deep end, and stuck a hand between your legs to feel your arousal growing around his fingers, a deep, guttural sound springing from the back of his throat when he felt how wet you were from his kisses.

“Yuta,” you called out, running your hands down his chest from his shoulders. “Fuck me.”

“No.”

You gawked. The next thing you knew, he had one hand around your throat and the other pressing a knife against it. “You don’t get to be the boss of me anymore. You lost that privilege. You don’t get to control me,” he said, cold as stone. “You don’t get to act like I’m yours.”

The knife flush against your neck did nothing to unnerve you. None of your survival instincts were on edge. Your muscles weren’t tense. Your breath was mostly level. You asked coyly, “Aren’t you?”

Yuta clenched his jaw. You were right and he knew it. He was completely and thoroughly owned by you - mind, body, and soul. And heart. No matter what lengths he went to deny it, you were his salvation. In beautiful life and in sweet death.

“No. You have to earn it,” he told you, quiet but fierce.

For the time being, you played submissive. You already knew he was eating from the palm of your hand, all yours. There was nothing left to secure, but you wanted to appease him. “How can I earn it?”

Yuta stamped the knife harder against your throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still and pliant. “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

You thought back to all those little memories, swimming around in the deep end of your mind. There weren’t many times you’d whispered the three word confession into his ears, but that made it all the more special. You remembered all of them. Walking through those secluded streets of your dropsite, hand in hand. Shielding your face in his chest as he fucked you within an inch of your life. Waking up in his arms the morning after.

When you had sex last night, it took everything in you not to say you loved him. Your heart broke itself with the effort. “Yes. I would draw blood for you.”

That still wasn’t enough. Yuta knew you could be ruthless if pushed. He wanted to know where your love for him started and ended. And truth be told, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted it to overflow. “Would you die for me?” he pressed.

You exhaled, “In a heartbeat.”

That was the right answer. Yuta briefly forewent the knife and slackened his grip on your throat, unfastening his pants just enough to take out his stiffening cock. You gripped it in your hands and pumped him fully hard in no time at all. With a painfully hard cock, needy and aching for you, Yuta gently brushed your hands away and slowly coaxed himself inside.

You gripped the bottom edge of the counter when he was finally rooted inside to the hilt. Yuta began to move and when he found a comfortable, hard pace, his hand leapt for his knife again, dragging it against your skin.

Yuta had ample opportunity to hurt you, time after countless time. Yet he never had any more than you’d asked for. You could be staring death squarely in the eye and not an inch of you would paralyze with fear as long as Yuta was there to hold you tight.

You liked to pretend you were fearless, but Yuta made you feel like you really were. I can do anything as long as I have him. He’s my strength and my empire. The whole world doesn’t stand a chance against us. And we’ll burn it to ashes for trying.

“I…,” Yuta started, his breath distant and faint. “Would die a million deaths for you.”

These kinds of confessions stopped startling you a long time ago. Yuta was intense and deep, and passionate. When he loved, he loved till the last minute. “I would bring you back every time,” you told him, shuddering.

“What if you couldn’t?”

“Then I’ll follow you to hell close behind,” you whispered, clasping onto his forearms. You wanted to hold him until kingdom come, and you had every intention of doing so.

Yuta was conflicted. The result of you tearing his heart in more than two pieces. Part of him wanted to resent you forever, to tell you to fuck off and stop toying with his imperfect feelings. Another was ready to stain the walls in blood, not yours, if it came to keeping you close. And the other accepted that you were the only woman in the world who could manipulate him, but chose not to.

It wasn’t just the sex that made him weak, but it sure did help. You were tightening around him like a noose, taking his cock like a champ as you had done countless times in the past, and Yuta wanted to reward you for it in any way you wished. If you asked for the universe, he could pull a few strings.

“You’re mine,” Yuta said possessively, teasing the knife down every available inch of your bare flesh. He was wholeheartedly obsessed with you and he would continue to be for as long as he breathed. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“You’re mine,” you taunted in between soft moans, attempting to hide the flutter of your heart. “And I’m yours.”

Yuta was burning alive with his own passion, scalding from the inside out. “Fuck,” he grunted, tossing the knife into the sink. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” you whispered.

“You own me.”

“I know that too.”

“You wanna know what you don’t know?” Yuta asked through pants, but he wasn’t stopping. Not until you were both surely sated. “Not a second went by where I didn’t think of you. Of what you were doing and who you belonged to.”

Well, I know now, you thought to yourself, but the admission drove you mad. You couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts kept him up at night in your wake. Did he picture your face whenever he got hard? Did he pretend he was inside you when he fucked his fist until he came?

“I’ve always belonged to you,” you told him sincerely. You wanted to kiss him again, but you held back for now.

Another groan sprung from the pit of his throat and he put a tightening grip on your throat. “Say it again.”

Your legs wrapped around him, wanting him more in spite of the lack of blood flow. Wanting him deeper. “I belong to you. And only you, Yuta,” you rasped.

The way you said his name had him reeling. With how you reacted to every graze of his fingers, light or rough, Yuta knew there was a throbbing void in you being filled at last now that he was in your possession once more. It was the same dark and empty void in him. “I hate you,” he hissed, slapping his hips into you harder. “For making me love you when you never cared about me.”

You had been taken aback by his words, but eased a little with relief when he finished his statement. Only a little. “That’s a lie.”

“Admit it. Admit you never cared,” Yuta barked. His grip on your throat was harsher and he had another calloused hand winding your hair around his fingers.

You couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true. “I was wrong,” you choked out instead, face tensing in a heavenly blend of pain and pleasure. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Yuta.”

Yuta all but stilled when he heard you say those words. Finally a fucking apology. And now he was going to make you beg. Or better yet, he was going to see if you meant it.

You gasped loudly when Yuta abruptly pulled out of you and hauled you off the counter into his burly arms, carrying you to the living room. You clung to him tightly the entire time, although you knew Yuta would never let you fall. He sat you on the couch, sitting beside you to your right, and pulled you onto him. “Prove it.”

Yuta watched you grip his cock and steer him to your entrance without hesitation. Like it was routine. You made a high-pitched noise when he penetrated you again and clawed at his chest and shoulders for purchase, prepared to give him every ounce of your strength and vigor.

You watched his face contorting with ecstasy, not minding the way your nails dug into him. Yuta had always been the bigger pain freak. Your legs still ached with the passion of him and they would even more when you were finished with him, but you didn’t care. You rode him to hell and back.

“Fuck. Holy fuck,” Yuta swore, watching you bounce on top of him with a vengeance. He should have known that when he told you to prove it, you would take that as a challenge. He cursed your name between expletives. “Slow down.”

You smiled contentedly, proud of yourself for ruining him to the bare bone. This was a man that prided himself on power and control, so snatching it from underneath him surely gave you an ego boost. “You wimping out on me, babe?”

Yuta mumbled something under his breath. More dirty words, certainly. He wanted to fight it, yet he couldn’t help but surrender. “No.”

“Then, take it,” you hissed, grabbing his jaw gently and stealing his lips in a hot kiss. Yuta’s fingers bruised your hips as your lips met with a reverberating wet sound.

Yuta looked dizzy from lust and pleasure, and passion when you pulled away from his lips in favor of his neck, sucking and nipping at the raw empty flesh. His breath went faint as you left your mark. He was moaning like a bitch underneath you, overwhelmed by your mouth on his skin and his cock in your warmth.

It was taking a toll on him, making him shake and bite his swollen, bleeding lip. “Stop. I’m gonna come, baby,” he said breathlessly.

“Come inside me,” you told him softly, riding him even harder. You wanted to finish him.

Yuta’s throat went dry at your words and he couldn’t stop the indescribably erotic noise that escaped him. He had fucked you raw more than once, but he had never been allowed to fuck you full of his cum. Now you were handing him the privilege on a silver platter and he was about to come on the spot like a virgin.

Your hips smacked down against him, brutal and quick. Yuta couldn’t help but thrust up into you, matching your movements with the intention of finishing you and himself. You were bruising and breaking beneath his rough hands, but it didn’t matter. He would seam you back together.

It quickly became more than he could handle and Yuta came with a groan of your name plus an additional slew of curses, his body writhing from the hot sensations. His eyes went wide when you kept riding him at this rough and hard pace, chasing your own climax.

You hummed, satisfied. That’s it, baby. You might not want to say it to my face, but your body has never lied. You are just as owned by me as I am by you. You are bound to me by a ball and chain.

Not far behind him, you shuddered with orgasm from the constant pounding of his cock against your sweet spot driving you over the edge. Yuta could feel you throbbing and pulsing around him and it drew him another deep noise from him. You went slack, draping your arms over his shoulders, and felt his cum leak from your cunt.

You weren’t in any hurry to move. Yuta was as close as humanly possible, every inch of himself buried inside your pussy, and you wanted to keep him there indefinitely. You tilted his jaw, watching his cute face. “Are you tired?” you asked softly.

Yuta scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe you were asking him that. Though you knew he always had more to give you. “We just fucked for an hour.”

“What are you talking about? We spent most of the past hour arguing.”

“That was foreplay.”

You burst into laughter. That was a very Yuta-esque answer. “For you, maybe,” you murmured.

Yuta arched his brow. “Oh, really now? Then please explain why you were so wet by the time I’d only kissed you. Riddle me that, beautiful.”

“There’s a simple explanation,” you said, in spite of knowing you had none. None too inclined to admit it to him, you opted to kiss him again instead, still holding onto his jaw the entire time.

Yuta let you get away with it just this once, hands roaming your back underneath your shirt. It was still damp with sweat and the thought of licking away every last drop with his tongue made Yuta stifle a groan. Most likely for the best. The sound would have made you clamp around him if you heard it.

And you would’ve fucked him all day long if you could, but duty called and though the state of your relationship with Yuta was mending, you still had other problems to solve.

After a makeout session that lasted way longer than intended, you both begrudgingly retreated to your separate rooms. You had work to do, and Yuta needed time to think about what you meant to him.

You were surprised to receive a call from the station a few hours later, recognizing the number though it was unsaved. Figuring it was probably about the names Yuta had given you, you answered the phone. “Hello?”

“I’ve got news,” came Ten’s voice. You knew from his grim tone that it was nothing good.

You sighed. “The bad kind, I’m assuming.”

“We identified a body today on the side of the highway. It’s Kun.”

You were silent for a long moment. No words would come. You weren’t surprised he was dead, but the fact that you couldn’t deny it anymore stung.

Ten knew you were hurting, but he continued, “He was mostly bones. He’s been dead for months. And before you ask how we know it’s him, he died in uniform. His badge says his name.”

“Any idea what the cause of death is?” you forced yourself to ask.

“Forensics are running tests right now, but we’re pretty confident it was a gunshot wound,” Ten told you softly. “He had a single one to the head. He didn’t suffer.”

“How nice of them,” you replied, but your voice was armed with pained sarcasm. It didn’t make sense. Why kill a man and release his body three months after the fact?

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I have something else to tell you,” Ten said, quiet as a mouse.

You swallowed your darkness and listened. No matter what, it was paramount that you found the bastard who did this. And, if given the chance, ripped their head off. “Yes?”

Ten’s voice was soft, as if he was telling you a secret of some foul nature. “There was a witness description that matched one of the guys I saw you ran through the database last night. But he’s been locked up for a couple of days. There’s no way it’s him.”

You hummed in confusion. “That’s suspicious as hell. Who gave the witness description?”

“Some random truck driver,” Ten replied, obviously none too convinced. “We’ve tried interviewing him about it, but he insists that’s who he saw and that he’s not being bought or coerced in any way into giving false statements.”

You didn’t buy it. Not even for one second. It was literally impossible for someone who was currently in custody to have dropped off a body on the side of the highway. And if he had a solid alibi, there was clearly someplace else you needed to look. “He’s lying like hell. And he’s likely being intimidated. The question is, who has that kind of power?”

Ten took a wild guess. “A gang.”

You glanced in the direction of Yuta’s bedroom, as if you were trying to signal him through the wall. You had believed him when he said that the Reapers didn’t kill cops, but a situation like this required the influence akin to the kind a gang would have. “That’s true, but I think we can rule out the Reapers.”

“You have an informant?” You could hear the confusion in Ten’s voice.

I have something much better, you said solely to yourself. “Something like that, yes. I think we’re looking in the wrong place. Or maybe there’s a part of the picture we’re missing.”

Ten hummed, clearly deep in thought. “What about the Brotherhood?”

“What about them?”

“I know these two gangs have conflicts about their drug territories and the like. Kun was investigating the Reapers’ involvement in a few drug deals gone south, but we know now that it was the Brotherhood’s mark.”

That was a valid point. The instance was one of many crimes Kun had been looking into, but it could have been his unlucky ticket to death. He had investigated crimes involving the Reapers and promptly went missing, which turned you to the same gang. Though as it turned out, it was the Brotherhood’s responsibility.

What if this whole time, you had been looking into the wrong criminal empire?

“That… changes a lot of things,” you replied, connecting the dots in your head.

“I have to go, but remember it’s just a hunch. Don’t get unmotivated. Keep looking,” Ten said encouragingly. “Someone will check in with you tomorrow as usual.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you murmured.

Before you could hang up, Ten called out your name one last time and added, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you reassured him, not wanting him to worry too hard. You knew the loss of one prominent member of your team put additional stress upon the safety of the others. And with that, you bid each other goodbye.

Yuta had a few errands to run the next day and as protocol decreed, you had to tag along with him. Nothing too dramatic. You imagined that with the gang’s current focus being on determining the next course of action to take against their rival, Yuta was more useful here rather than going from country to country eliminating threats.

His job was much like yours in that regard. Your former one, at least. You bounced from place to place, no one location being too safe, taking on new identities in foreign cities. In the middle of almost losing sense of who you were, all in exchange for recognition and praise, Yuta had been the one to sweep you off your feet and help you remember.

That was why it hurt so much when he was gone. You lost him, and you lost yourself. He had reminded you how beautiful love was, how liberating it was to not think of the aftermath of missions. With every heartless criminal you locked away, another piece of your soul chipped away too.

Yuta had made you realize that you weren’t broken. You were still whole and you still had a soul. And you knew, because you had bore it to him.

You snapped out of your memories when you heard the car door click open and quickly close beside you. Yuta handed you a dark sheath, made of leather. “This is for you,” he said quietly. “If you still use them, that is.”

“I still use them,” you told him with a nod, unsuccessfully ignoring the way your chest flooded with warmth. He remembered.

“Good,” Yuta said, fastening his seat belt around his waist. “And by the way, we’re not going home like I thought we were. I just got a call. We’re having an impromptu meeting.”

You stifled a groan, none too eager to sit around outside while the higher-ups had private discussions behind a glass door. But you said nothing as Yuta pulled out of the parking lot.

Though as you followed him through the building to the designated door on the far end of the hallway, you complained, “I just don’t understand what you guys are talking about that you didn’t get done in the past two meetings this week.”

“This is important. And besides, I don’t make the rules, baby,” Yuta replied, totally amused but hiding it with a poker face. “He does.”

The man in question was already patiently sitting at the head of the table with a poker face that could kill if he tried hard enough. Lee Taeyong, you recognized. The leader.

His second-in-command was right beside him and with Yuta being third, he didn’t hesitate to snag a seat directly across from Johnny. The only thing that surprised you was Yuta dragging you inside, seating you squarely beside him in a chair of your own.

It wasn’t long until the room filled with enough high-ranks to make anyone nervous and after doing a mental headcount, you quickly realized all eight of them had come.

Taeyong seemed to be doing the same count and once he counted an adequate number of heads, excluding yours, he spoke up loudly. “Yuta, was it necessary to bring her?”

“Yes,” Yuta chirped without explanation.

“Alright, then,” Taeyong said swiftly, commanding total attention with the tone of his voice alone. “Now that we’re all here, firstly I wanted to apologize for calling last minute. I realize you are all busy with your respective responsibilities. But in light of recent events, I want to extend our incognito another week.”

Haechan nodded in approval. He was the head of their prostitution business. “Good idea. The ladies are scared shitless. They don’t wanna work and I’ll raise hell if anything happens to them.”

“This is slowing down our income,” Doyoung chimed in, disgruntled. Likely thing for the guy in charge of money laundering to say. “We can’t make money if we’re all hiding. We need to fight fire with fire.”

“We've been trading hits back and forth. What more do you want?” Johnny asked.

Doyoung shrugged. “We need to do something that will make them realize we’re not to be fucked with. Right now, they think they have the upper hand.”

Yuta shook his head. “No, they don’t. This all started because of drugs. It’s common knowledge that we own the market around here. If they weren’t intimidated, they wouldn’t have made any moves.”

“Then what do you suggest, Nakamoto?”

“I agree that we need to blow all their heads clean off,” Yuta replied like it was the most normal response ever. “But for the right reasons.”

Jaemin was the hacker and he didn’t exactly understand why he was here. Or why they were arguing. “I don’t really think it matters what the reason is. We need to stop them willingly or by force.”

Yangyang groaned. He was the one directly over the gang’s entire drug trafficking operation and you could imagine he was none too pleased. “Our drug operation is our most lucrative branch and they’re not touching that. We’re fine.”

Haechan insisted, “My ladies still need to work. And I’m not letting them until it’s safe for them to do so.”

Doyoung half-agreed, “The ladies need to work so we can make as much money as possible. This incognito is only hindering us.”

“My guys are dying,” Jaehyun announced. “If we lift the incognito, imagine how many more of us will be dead.”

Taeyong exhaled a sigh, rubbing his temple. You resisted a laugh. They were stressing each other out when every last one of their problems could be solved if the Brotherhood was removed from the picture.

Noticing his boss’ exhaustion, Johnny changed the topic. “The incognito aside, we’re still not fine. I’ve been hearing that the police chief who was investigating us and disappeared before we could pay him off was found dead. Now it looks like we’ve got cop blood on our hands.”

Yuta deadpanned, “Exactly what we needed.”

You tried not to stiffen as Johnny mentioned your boss. Then you thought deeply about his words and reflected on the phone call you had with your co-worker last night, and your blood went cold. You mentally chastised yourself for not thinking of it before.

Yuta raised his brow at you when he felt you attempting to subtly capture his attention. You mouthed, “Outside.”

You stood up abruptly and he excused himself, following behind you.

When you were both on the opposite side of the door, you asked, “What exactly happens when you collectively sign off on decisions?”

Yuta was taken aback by your question, but gave an honest response. “The eight of us gather around, much like right now, and try to make a unanimous vote.”

“I’m assuming that doesn’t happen often?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yuta replied, tempted to chuckle. “What’s this all about, baby?”

Now completely certain they had nothing to do with it, you took a deep breath, revealing, “I don’t know why it’s just now hitting me, but I think you’re being framed.”

Yuta didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure?”

You slowly wound a hand through your hair. “I don’t know, but all the evidence points to this gang. Not just the fact that you were the last thing my boss investigated before he died. As it turns out, one of the cases he was looking into was the Brotherhood’s work. When he was found dead yesterday, we got a witness description identical to one of the guys you gave me.”

Yuta furrowed his brow. “You’ve lost me.”

“Yuta, that guy has been in jail for three days now.”

You watched the shock color his face in real time. “Who in the hell gave the witness description?”

“It was a truck driver,” you told him, remembering the conversation you had over the phone. “He was obviously lying and my co-worker and I think he’s either being paid or pressured. But we thought about who would have that kind of sway over someone.”

“A fucking gang,” Yuta finished for you, bristling with frustration. His hand was on his head, attempting to think this over.

You felt guilty somehow. Like you should have known this was coming.

The second Yuta turned to the door, prepared to come armed with news that would surely anger his co-workers to no end, you both heard gunshots echo out from downstairs. Instinctively, Yuta pulled you into his arms without a care, glancing around. “What the hell?”

You shuddered, words suddenly resounding in your memory, and chided yourself for being too stupid to not comprehend them until it was too late. Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.

They were all together.

“They’re coming,” you whispered.

“Do you have the knife I gave you?” Yuta asked, borderline frantic. You had never seen him so worried.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Thank god. We gotta go,” Yuta replied swiftly, not wasting a breath to get a hold of your arm and lead you down the hallway. You heard his co-workers barreling out the conference room from behind.

You let Yuta steer you away, trusting him wholeheartedly. He knew this building better than you did, and better than his opponents did. That was his advantage.

Moving door through door with you in his arms, Yuta clasped onto your body like the thought of letting you go would send a shiver down his spine, gentle enough to cause you no pain yet firm enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. You both remembered what happened the last time you were separated.

The thought made you shudder. Second turning into minutes, minutes turning into hours as you’d waited for him to come back. For a goddamn phone call. Something. Anything that would indicate he was still alive.

Like he could sense your prevailing thoughts, Yuta stopped you, glancing both ways like a child crossing the street, and whispered, “Listen to me, baby. I’m right here. Okay?”

“I know,” you replied, quiet as a mouse. Your natural instincts were flaring up and your whole body was tempted to paralyze with fear, but none for you. Only for him.

“We’re going to make it out of here. I know we will.”

You believed him, but for safe measure, you grabbed his face in your palms and pressed your lips against his feverishly. Yuta kissed you back without restraint, his hold on your smaller frame tightening more with every passing moment. It felt like seconds until it was over and though you wanted more, you knew you had to settle.

When he heard a noise emerging from a none too distant hall, Yuta reached for your hand and continued to drag you towards the closest exit he knew. You did your best to keep up with his hurried steps, almost tripping over your own legs every step of the way.

Even more gunshots echoed against the walls, too close for comfort, and rather than potentially rush into something dangerous, Yuta caged you behind him as you hid on the opposite side of the closest available corner. You were able to cock your head just long enough to see a figure dressed in all black, their head cloaked in a beastlike mask.

Brothers.

There were masculine wails and screams everywhere. You recognized the sound of death and chaos when it touched your ears, and it made you cling to Yuta harder. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not it was the blood of his gang members or his rivals staining the walls.

“They’ve got this bitch surrounded,” Yuta murmured irritably under his breath.

That wasn’t reassuring at all. “Then what’s the plan? If we can’t leave, then what are we gonna do?”

You could see a flicker of something dark flicker in Yuta’s eyes, followed by something like resignation, and you knew what it meant instantly. “We have to fight.”

Fight didn’t startle you. Your hand immediately went for its weapon. Flight was officially off the table.

This was a full-blown war.

Yuta poked his head around the corner. When the coast was clear, he took you down another corridor, a touch darker than the others. You recognized the hallway and knew you were close to the rear side of the building.

You didn’t see it. Not until it was too late. And by the time you heard it, there was already a brawny pair of arms wound viciously around Yuta’s neck, yanking him back with force. He dropped his weapon, reaching up behind him out of instinct, and endeavored to pry his attacker’s bloody, calloused hands off.

“Yuta!” you called out. You didn’t hesitate to go after him, but another person snuck up behind you and put your wrists in a vice-like grip behind your back, dragging you off into another room as you desperately tried to writhe out their arms.

The last thing you heard was Yuta shouting for you before the door slammed closed in your face.

Your body tensed with the anger of a heartbroken woman at being separated once more from your lover, who you knew would move mountains to see you again - or die trying. And you would never, ever let that happen.

In the split second of freedom you had while the faceless enemy locked the door, you snatched the blade Yuta had given you from its sheath and sprung into action, landing an unexpected attack in the back of his head. Over and over.

You were just about to drag the man’s fallen body out of the way enough that you could sidestep towards the door when you heard another one open from behind you. You jolted for your weapon, spinning on your heels.

A person came out. This one had a face. And you recognized him.

Jeno raised his hands in innocence. “It’s just me.”

“Get. The fuck. Back,” you hissed, holding your blade to announce that you were armed and very much dangerous.

Realizing you didn’t trust him, Jeno switched on a dime. “You finally figured it out, huh? How clever of you.”

You knew Jeno wasn’t who you thought he was the second you finally pieced together the true meaning of his words. “Who are you?” you forced yourself to ask.

Jeno shrugged, smirking to himself as if something was funny. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a brother.”

“I know that, but where do you fall in their hierarchy? Who do you take orders from?”

Jeno scoffed, his evil little smirk widening in unwavering amusement. “Take orders?” he repeated, incredulous. “Babe, I’m the one who calls the shoots.”

You stilled for all but a second. You were staring into the eyes of a gang leader who was conniving enough to infiltrate the ranks of his rival. There was no way in hell he was easily backing down from a challenge.

The glaringly obvious shock on your face made him laugh out loud. “That’s right. I’m the leader. You look surprised.”

You sneered, “You son of a bitch.”

If not anything else, Jeno looked proud of himself. He was so damn smug. “Don’t play innocent, beautiful. You’re not exactly a saint either. I doubt Taeyong knows there’s a cop mingling in his affairs, and his trusted third-in-command is just allowing it to happen under his nose.”

How in the hell did he know you were undercover? You had to assume everything he knew about you right now was equally as dangerous and lethal as his potential.

Your eyes narrowed. Your body was twitching with unadulterated anger and twitching to do something deadly. “Did you kill Kun?”

“Nah. Well, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I mean.”

That didn’t make it any better. He was the one calling the shots, after all. He said so himself. “But you consented to his abduction and murder. Why?”

Jeno played with the edge of a blade of his own. He sounded thoroughly bored as explained, “He was getting too close for comfort. Looking for the Reapers was inadvertently bringing him closer to us, and we couldn’t just give him a two for one combo. It was nothing personal, you know.”

You shook your head. Then you slammed on brakes. “How do you know about Yuta and I?”

His mocking tone wasn’t lost on you as he teased, “I think you’ve lost your touch, spy. My guys wanted to take you out, you know. They were certain you were a threat and you would figure us out.”

So he not only knew that you were affiliated with the police force, but the covert agency too. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeno snorted. “Surely you remember Yokohama. I’m realizing it’s very easy to pin things on other gangs. You swept in to investigate their activities and lover boy came along to figure out who was killing off his buyers.”

This was unforgivable. The entire time Jeno had this much dirt on you and your personal life and discreetly used you to expand his illegal crime syndicate at the expense of another, and another. And you had no idea.

“You recycle all of the same shit,” you pointed out, seething inside out.

“Maybe,” Jeno replied carelessly. “But you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

You shook your head. “So that day the three of us were together. It was all fake. You killed your own men?”

“They served their purpose,” Jeno said darkly, lifting his blade. “And you’ve served yours.”

Your entire body stiffened with alarm when you heard someone attempt to push open the door closest to you. Stepping inside after kicking away the corpse of the man you’d fatally stabbed, Jaemin came in armed with a gun. And you were to assume it was fully loaded.

This shocked you less than Jeno’s betrayal did, if you could even call it that. He wasn’t some guy you’d trusted. He was some guy you’d underestimated. “Of course you’re involved too,” you murmured, positioning the sharp blade in front of yourself.

“Of course,” Jaemin repeated with a sly little laugh. “Who do you think cleans up his mess?”

Jeno didn’t bother to roll his eyes as you would usually expect from him, going with it. “And I’ve made a big one.”

You knew what that meant. They wanted to exterminate you like some troublesome little pest in their happy home.

As if to confirm your suspicions, Jaemin smiled menacingly and crooned, “You have to go, sweetheart. You know too much now.”

Your heart was racing. Even you seemed to accept that you were overwhelmed and outnumbered. You knew that with one wrong move Jaemin wouldn’t hesitate to empty his chamber into your head, but for once, you had no idea how to get out of this. You just knew that you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Yuta entered your mind again and wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t hear his voice anymore, but you hadn’t heard any more gunshots either. Rather than resign yourself to defeat, you were going to assume he was still alive until proven otherwise.

“Wait!” you shouted when you saw Jaemin cock his gun, obviously ready to paint the walls with your brains. “Where’s Yuta?”

Jaemin shrugged his shoulders. His smile was ominous. “Your little boy toy? No clue. He’s probably bleeding out somewhere, princess. I think he might be dead.”

“Not yet.”

The three of your heads snapped in the same direction when you heard that familiar voice. Relief flooded your veins when you saw Yuta standing in the entrance of the door, having snuck up unheard.

Before Jaemin could even get the opportunity to fire his weapon, Yuta raised and cocked his own, and a loud clap rang out in the air just before you watched Jaemin fly backwards from the impact of the piercing hole in his gut.

And to your surprise, Yuta didn’t immediately kill him. He had his reasons. Rather than stick around to give a message, Yuta hurriedly reached for your arm and tugged you out the door. You could see in Jeno’s dark eyes when you took one final glance at him that he wanted to give chase, but saving a life was more important.

You used all your strength and speed to keep up with Yuta’s steps, his fingers intertwined with yours as you paced wordlessly through the seemingly endless corridor. The two of you ran and ran until you had descended at least two more floors, wanting to ensure there was a safe gap between you and your enemies.

Like hell Yuta was going to let you get shot a second time.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Yuta said frantically when you were in the clear, running his hands over your cheeks. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t lay a finger on me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine as long as you are,” Yuta told you, relief washing over his face. You had lost each other once and neither of you were keen on suffering that hell ever again.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your heart speeding quicker than you knew it ever could. This was nothing like that first time you thought you lost him. Fear struck you tenfold. “I told you I would die for you.”

“If you ever risk your life for me, I’ll die right after you,” Yuta told you, more grave and serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re not leaving me. Ever.”

And you didn’t leave him. As soon as two weeks later, you were in a hotel in Osaka after dark, tangled in silk sheets after a long night of making love to each other. Yuta made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make up for lost time, and you both mutually agreed there was no better way than doing all of the things you’d always wanted to do together.

He wanted to whisk you away on romantic trips and show you to all his favorite places in his hometown, and you were slowly making your way down the lengthy list. You wanted an oasis away from the dark reality of the world, to lose yourself in a world that only consisted of you and the man you loved.

You missed nights in Japan. The country never slept. Neither did your heart and your feelings for Yuta.

Ironically, he was fast asleep when you received a call from a familiar number.

“I know I’m not supposed to contact you anymore,” Mark started without greeting.

You snickered, wondering where this was going. You were still under the sheets right beside Yuta, knowing he would immediately stir if you even attempted to sneak out of the comfortable bed. “And yet you’re calling me anyways.”

“I have a good reason,” Mark replied reassuringly. “So you know how you got shot?”

“I think I may remember getting shot in the stomach, yes. I'm not too sure.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you imagined Mark was playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, that guy who shot you - Levi Clark - he disappeared from prison.”

You gawked, but tried to keep your voice to a murmur. “What?”

“Yeah. And he was found dead two hours later. Like, really dead. I saw the photos. It’s ugly.”

You glanced at the man sleeping beside you with extreme suspicion, but told Mark levelly, “Thanks for informing me.”

Mark sounded chipper. “No problem. And if you ever need anything, I’ve got you.”

You broke into a wide smile at those words. Though you knew it would only do everyone involved no good to continue contacting your former co-workers. “Take care of yourself, Mark,” you whispered softly.

“You too,” were Mark’s last words before he hung up, letting you resume your new life.

You placed your phone down and crossed your arms, knowing something was very off in this picture. “Yuta?” you called out.

“Hm?”

So he wasn’t asleep. You crossed your arms tighter. You suspected as much. “I know what you did.”

Yuta’s voice was groggy. “Which thing did I do?”

“You know the one.”

A small sliver of a smile tugged at his lips. “You would die for me. I would kill for you. We’re even, dear.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a few kisses to Yuta’s devilishly handsome face, not mad about it. His hands snaked around your waist and you sighed contentedly. “I guess we are.”

#nakamoto yuta smut #yuta smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #nct scenarios #yuta nakamoto smut #nct

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spaghettiposts · 9 months ago

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Devotion

Wanda Maximoff x Sorcerer!Reader

Summery: You could never escape Wanda, much less the Scarlet Witch. Even bound to a chair, you couldn’t help but fall into her again. Your precious witch.

Warnings: Dark Obsessive Wanda, sorta possessive, you’re tied to a chair, hurt/comfort, Wanda’s been feeling neglected, established relationship? Not really Wanda’s just obsessed with you, toxic relationship maybe

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: I had a dream Wanda tied us to a chair, sue me. This honestly got way softer than I intended LMAO

“I was wondering when you’d wake up…” The words rang through your ears as you regained consciousness again, your eyelids fluttering opening to the sight of Wanda— no, The Scarlet Witch—before you. A sly smirk played on her lips, illuminated softly by the dim glow of red candles flickering around the room. She took a leisurely sip from her coffee mug before making it vanish with a flick of her wrists.

Your eyes squinted against the candlelight, trying to see through the madness that seemed to swirl behind her red irises. Something you tried to search into, only to be blocked out. She simply smiled at you, taunting you, teasing, her eyes darting lower to which you followed her gaze.

Now you understood why you couldn’t feel your arms, they were tied up to the chair, every inch of you. “Wands…what’s going on?” You managed, attempting to keep your voice steady as you tested the restraints.

“Oh Detka, there’s no use in struggling,” She purred, chuckling in such a condescending tone it sent shivers down your spine. You would be lying if you didn’t admit you had found Wanda attractive before.

Right now that wasn’t the time for that, again you tried to reach into your head. Desperately trying to recall what led to this moment, but your memories were clouded completely until all your focus was on her.

And her only.

Your eyes weren’t familiar with your surroundings whatsoever, figuring it was a reality Wanda made for just the two of you. It resembled a home, something the witch had always dreamed of, something you failed to provide with all your lessons.

Still, despite knowing how unfair and neglectful you had been to her, you knew this wasn’t how to fix things, “Wanda, this isn’t right. Let me go.”

But she only laughed, approaching you the next second. She bent down to your level and you sucked in a breath, her cold finger grazing underneath your chin, forcing you to look at her as she slid into your lap effortlessly.

“Mhmm now why should I? You look so good for me, sitting there.” She murmured, her lips brushing against yours as her hands roamed across your body, landing to rest on your shoulders. You’d also be lying if you said you weren’t equally as affected. “You know we haven’t gotten time for ourselves since…well, Strange.” Her nose scrunching in distaste at the mention of your mentor.

“Honey, I'm his apprentice. I have to spend my time there, surely you understand?” You spoke softly, trying to reason for your obligations. “I’ve always devoted myself to you.”

“You call abandoning me devotion?” She scoffed, not for a second believing you, and yet again her eyes returned to their crimson color. Your unresponsiveness only pissed her off further, rolling her eyes and withdrawing from you with a wounded expression written across her face.

With another sigh, you bowed your head, knowing that the little progress you had made had been erased in milliseconds. Biting back the frustration, you reminded yourself of the delicacy of the situation. You had to be careful.

Wanda shifted in your lap, her gaze averted and hurt. Part of you longed to reach out to her, whisper all the things she needed to hear and make her believe you, but your hands were pulled back by their restraints. Damn, you were really starting to hate these things.

“Untie my hands?” You asked softly, gesturing towards the ropes. Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours, looking at you in disbelief.

“No.” She muttered darkly, “You’ll only run from me.” She explained, her words falling heavy. Slowly, she shifted, positioning herself in a way that allowed you to cradle her, her nose brushing your cheek, gently nuzzling against you.

Your lips parted, so that’s what it was? Wanda was afraid. She wasn’t just upset; she was afraid of losing you. You understood what she needed, to be reminded of your so-called devotion, understood again. When her head landed to rest on your shoulder, you took your chances, risking your life to ever so gently place a kiss on her head.

You felt Wanda stiffen against you, but she nestled in closer, tilting her head just the slightest bit. Though the position was quite awkward and strained your neck, you persisted, peppering slow lingering kisses across her face. A soft smile tugged at her lips, and you took the opportunity to ask again, “I just want to hold you, untie me?”

Reluctantly, Wanda opened her eyes, not really wanting to move but deciding to trust you when you gave her a crooked smile. Without much effort, she complied, reaching behind you to loosen the ropes on your hands. As the knots came undone, you sighed in relief, rubbing at your wrist to ease the soreness.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling Wanda close as you wrapped your arms around her. She hummed in response, pressing her lips to your neck. You put considerable thought into your next words, you had missed these moments with Wanda, moments where the world wasn’t red it was just green.

“I’ll talk to Strange tomorrow, to let him know I’m pausing my lessons.” You said into the silence, and Wanda’s arms tightened around you.

“Really?”

“Really, I need to show my girl she’s my priority after all.” You affirmed and Wanda smiled, Wanda—no longer just the Scarlet Witch, but the woman who held your heart entirely. With a gentle touch, she pressed her lips against yours in a loving embrace; satisfied with your answer.

You smiled into the kiss, absorbing as much of her as you could. Eventually, you broke away, but Wanda was quick to lean her head against yours, and a breathy chuckle escaped her lips, echoing yours. Unable to resist, you pressed a soft kiss to Wanda’s nose, enjoying the way it scrunched up in response. The witch blushed shyly and buried between the crook of your neck, and you had trouble believing this girl was set to be the destroyer of worlds.

The thought only made you hold her further. The sudden weight of responsibility bore down on you. It wasn’t how you wanted things to go, but it was how it had to be. For Wanda’s safety and the promise of gaining your future with her, undisturbed.

Swallowing hard, you brushed loose strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear and taking one last look. Recalling what you had been taught, you chanted the familiar spell you had been practicing, murmuring it softly in her ear to ease her. Her eyes drooped heavily before she went completely limp against you and all you could hope was that she’d understand.

Carefully, you untied the ropes holding your legs together before shrugging them off. You stood up, mindful of Wanda, tightening your grip around her, lifting her up properly. As you walked down the unfamiliar path, slowly transforming back into what it used to be, you were determined to prove your devotion to Wanda.

But first, you’d help her fulfill her own destiny, no matter the cost.

Even if she didn’t quite understand it.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #wlw post #wanda imagine

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alexa-fika · 7 months ago

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imagine the whitebeard pirates finding like a toddler reader just on the ship,what would they do?

Fem reader please.

OH also, My sister is getting Married!!!!

Baby stowaway( Whitebeard pirates x f!child!reader)

A/n- this one is really short and kinda bad but I wanted to give you guys something since I haven’t written in a bit, I am so sorry guys I am so behind in requests, Im trying to catch up and complete them all so sorry for the wait!

ALSO CONSIDER CONGRATULATIONS TO YOUR SISTER

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha as a placeholder which stands for reader im Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Mind telling me again what you were doing hiding on the ship?” Ace questions, the small toddler sitting in front of him with a smile

“I came in Dad’s boat.”

“Okay, well, do you know how long ago was that?”

“Eighty days ago!” She said, raising five fingers

Ace turned around to glance at Marco, sharing a look with him

“Will you give me a moment, sweetcheeks?” Smiling as she nodded, standing up to walk towards Marco

“You think she was here that long?” He question

“Children that young don’t have the concept of time yet, so no matter how much we asked, we probably won’t know how long she was down there. But based on what we know, we can assume that they were abandoned,” Marco sighs

“So, we can keep her then?”

“Is that all you heard from that?” he grumbled

“Come on, Marco, look at her; you can’t deny you want that little face around the ship.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

“It’s all that matters; her own father abandoned her; she doesn’t have anywhere to go; she needs someone to be there for her, especially now when she can’t even defend himself.”

Marco’s eyes soften at that as he glances back at the girl

“I guess Pops will never say no to a child, especially a child.”

“Ace beams at that, giving Marco a pat on the back, much to the doctor’s displeasure

“Here you go, Dokucha; you should eat something; I made you some croissants.”

“I love boissonts!”

Ace furrows his eyebrows at this

“Croissants”

“Boissants”

“You’re so cute pumpkin’” Thatch laughs

I based this on an interaction I had with one of my students, he usually uses b for c words, boissont, boshier, it’s hella cute

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece x child!reader #oc x whitebeard pirates #whitebeard pirates x child!reader #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard pirates x reader

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puck-bunnies · 10 months ago

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or nah..?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, oral sex (m and f receiving), degrading, praising, dom!quinn, semi public sex, car sex

word count: 2.1k

getting into a argument after a tough loss, the only way you can resolve your fight is by quinn bossing you around. can you take all of him, or nah…?

“it’s not your fault quinn, you played the best you could.” we’re on the road driving home from the canucks game. they lost 4-1, he’s beating himself up, thinking he lead his team to failure, against an easily beatable team at that. quinn’s fingers grip harshly on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with pressure. i notice his jaw clench, teeth grinding together as he lightly speeds down the dark road.

he doesn’t talk to me, there isn’t much to say. i look out the window, not daring to look at him in his angered manner. “what do you want from me quinn, do you want me to coddle you and tell you everything will be okay?” i bicker at him, my short temper showing when i know this isn’t a good time. my heart regrets the second those words escape my lips.

his teeth pierce the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows squeeze together in annoyance. “jesus Y/N, can you take five seconds off to being a complete asshole.” i’m not stunned by his words, we often have disagreements and bicker back and forth, but it always ends in the same thing. hate sex.

“i’m not the one who’s moping around because his team lost one game, it’s not the end of the world quinn.” i roll my eyes and look out the window.

he huffs, “don’t roll your eyes at me Y/N, i’ll give you a reason to roll your eyes.” quinn’s grip tightens on the wheel, turning into a backroad on the way to our house. i don’t listen to him, rolling my eyes at his bitchy demeanour again. he pulls over on the side of the road and slams on the breaks, making me wince with a jump. “out of the car, now.” he demands, i don’t waste a second to work with his wishes.

the cold winter air hits me hard, my cheeks and nose flushing with a blush. quinn slams the car door once he steps out of the drives seat, rounding the car and meeting me on the side of the abandoned road. popping open the back car door, he sits on the seat, facing me on the outside. “on your knees.” he husks.

i don’t hesitate, the rubble piercing my exposed skin as i’m only wearing a skirt, i don’t mind it, just ready for what’s in store my adrenaline overrides the soft pain. quinn unzips his own jeans, “you’re going to suck my cock like the slut you are. it’ll keep your mouth shut for once.” his eyes glare down at me, shimmying his jeans and boxers off of his hips.

quinn’s already hard cock springs out of his boxers, hitting the bottom of his stomach before coming back at my face. my fingers graze his light pink tip that’s already coated in pre cum, softly rubbing before going down the shaft, warming up his needy cock. i lower my head down, swirling my teasing tongue around the head, my spit coating his aching cock. “don’t be tease now. take it all.” quinn forms my hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling the roots of my hair enough to make me wince.

i curse under my breath, he bucks his hips up, letting himself slide into my warm and wet mouth. my hand goes down to his base, playing with the length i haven’t touched yet. my tongue acts as a pillow for his cock, laying on it as i slide myself down farther. it doesn’t take long for quinn’s length to hit the back of my throat, he stops forcing himself farther when he feels be gag too much.

easing his hips back before bucking themselves up again. my hand corkscrews the rest of his base, my other resting on quinn’s thigh to steady myself. he uses his hands to guide my head up and down while thrusting his hips, fucking my face softly at first. it doesn’t take long for him to start getting rougher, hitting the back of my throat to receive a little gag every stroke.

i dig my nails into his thigh, my pussy starting to drip with need and desire to be filled with him. i clench around nothing, trying to give myself a little something to feel good with. i take my hand off of his thigh, running down my body to my crotch. my fingers slide up and down my clothed cunt, pressing harder where my clit sits, getting a soft moan around quinn’s cock as i hit my sensitive bud.

he pulls my hair up, his cock leaving my mouth with a soft pop. “are you touching yourself while sucking my cock?” he asks in a rough manner, i nod, not being able to find words. “what makes you think you deserve that. you’ve been nothing but a brat, make me cum and maybe you’ll get something in return.”

my eyes are soft and wide as i look up at him, dragging my hand away from my desperate cunt and back onto his thigh. “good girl.” he mutters. before he can ask me to, i take him back into my mouth, sliding down till it hits the very back of my throat. quinn groans with surprise above me, letting out a soft whimper as he tightens his grip on my hair, pushing me up and down with ease.

my tongue drags up and down, feeling every vein that runs up his length. my freshly manicured nails dig into his skin, my thighs clench together to cause the friction that it so needs.

quinn turns into a groaning mess above me, every time i get to his tip and circle my tongue around it he softly whimpers. sliding my mouth back down on his cock, the sound of a passing car makes my stomach burn with anxiety. it makes me stop in my tracks, quinn’s cock filling up my mouth but my head doesn’t move an inch. i feel his burning gaze down at me, scolding me for stopping.

“no one’s doing to see us, don’t stop, not now.” he practically growls at me. he pushes my head down him farther, taking control of me. i let him continue his control, pulling my head by my hair back up his cock. he bucks his hips at the same time, not letting himself slip out of the warmness of my mouth again. i soft moan against him, “oh yeah..? you like when i fuck your mouth like this?” quinn’s voice comes out in a groan, showing his neediness for me but his dominance over me at the same time.

i can tell he’s getting close as his thighs clench underneath my hands, his thrusts up into my mouth becoming more needy. every time his tip hits the back of my throat making me gag gets him closer, groans filling the night air.

“fuck.” he curses out, then i feel it. liquid spitting out of his cock as his pace slows, chasing his own high desperately. my eyes stay trained on his face as he tilts his head back, his eyes screwing shut as he lets his orgasm take over him.

quinn pulls my head back up, his spent dick falling out of my mouth. he smirks at me, acknowledging the talent i have with just my mouth. “see, it wasn’t that hard to be good.” he whispers, pulling me up his body.

quinn’s lips smash onto mine, my teeth biting down on his bottom lip to let my tongue slide in, letting him taste the hint of him that still lingers in my mouth. he releases his grasp on my hair, instead falling down to my waist as he replaces my tongue with his, filling up my mouth.

he suddenly backs away, getting up from the car seat and joining me in standing next to the car. i don’t expect him to slam the door shut, his hands going back to my waist to pin me against the closed door. hands running down my sides to my ass, giving it a tight squeeze receiving a soft hum from me.

quinn lowers his body, kneeling on the ground as his hands slowly make way down my naked legs. my leg gets lifted, hooking onto his shoulder to let him look up at my core. getting a glimpse of my black laced panties, he slides a singer up my folds, landing on my clit, giving it a teasing rub. i take a deep breath in through my teeth, my pussy clenching around nothing as i badly crave for more of him.

he hooks two fingers in the side of my panties, moving them to the side to get an easy view of my soaked pussy. i don’t miss the smirk on his face, he always takes pleasure in seeing what i do to him, even just by sucking him off.

he replaces his fingers with his mouth, giving me a soft and teasing kiss on my clit. my hand gravitates to his hair, pulling at his soft brown curls. i push him closer to me, needing more of him so badly. he pulls against my wishes, not granting me the one thing i need so badly.

“be patient baby.” quinn’s demeanour changes from the once demanding man to a soft and gentle one. that’s how quinn always is when he eats me out, soft and praising as he gets drunk off the taste of my pussy.

he finally goes back in, his tongue flicking softly against my sensitive bud. the stubble of his growing out beard rubs against the inside of my thighs making me whimper. my knees buckle as i try not to fall from the pleasure, my back slightly arching off the cold car door being me. my head rolls back softy as quinn slides a finger into me, “keep your eyes on me pretty girl.” he softly demands of me. it’s one of his rules in bed, when he’s eating me out, my eyes have to stay on his.

i oblige, staring down at him as his mouth disappears under my skirt. my hands grab the hem of my skirt, hiking it up so i can see more of what he does to me. his tongue circling my aching clit as he adds a second finger into my hole, my walls clenching with the new added filling.

i mumble curses under my breath, quinn’s fingers curling up to my g-spot instead of jamming in and out. he takes his time with me, my hands pushing him in farther as i already feel my orgasm coming up to me, about to hit me like a bus. quinn knows it’s coming too, the quickness of his tongue against me rabidly increasing with every lick. his grip on my thigh that’s laying on his shoulder tightening, and the other on my ass playing with it.

my body can’t take it anymore, clenching one more time around him as i set my release. my loud moans filling the chilly air around me, my breath leaving with a smell smoke of air. i don’t realize the closing of my thighs, capturing quinn who has to guide my legs apart to release himself.

his fingers leave me, making me feel empty again. he slides them into his mouth, licking me off of them before doing the same against my folds. i wince slightly, my still sensitive pussy being cleaned by quinn’s tongue. “you taste so good baby.” he mumbles against me making me whimper once more.

he finishes, climbing back up my body to press his lips back against mine. this time i taste myself along his lips and tongue, moaning at the taste of sex between our mouths. “see, it doesn’t take a lot for you to be good.” quinn whispers to me.

the passenger door opens as he pulls it, letting me slip into the chair. he rounds the car, slipping into the drivers seat beside me. we finish our drive him, finally both getting the rest we so desperately need.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl oneshot #puck-bunnies

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kernsing · 2 months ago

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never over the fact that han yoohyun remains also a victim of child neglect/abandonment/having adult responsibilities foisted upon him too young even as he grows up under yoojin’s care. it’s not yoojin’s fault, he did his best and he did good raising yoohyun but. you’re not supposed to be able to hurt your parent, you’re not supposed to learn how to manage your parent’s emotions/wellbeing/public image, you’re not supposed to have to fear for their physical safety and desperately try to figure out a way to protect them, you’re not supposed to be capable of real cruelty toward them, not supposed to be able to fuck up their life. but your parent is your brother who is only five years older than you, and suddenly the new and dangerous world demands you (you who are new and dangerous too) in its spotlight, and you are just a child and he was just a child. the world is so wholly unjust to both of them and i will never fault either for how their relationship was in shambles for three/eight years, even when han yoohyun makes his terrible decisions with terrible consequences, paving the road to hell. you’re not supposed to be able to hurt your parent like that. you’re not supposed to be a brother that he needs to rely on, just as much as you rely on him, both of you abandoned.

haven’t even mentioned yet how you’re not really human you don’t understand humans you try your best for your brother but you Don’t Get It, how and why society works and the full emotional harm its hatred can wreak. you might see it but you don’t get it like physical danger and there is so much of that latter danger in the world now. you might see him and keep tabs on him but you don’t get your brother, that he needs you like you need him because of the very fact that you need him and children realizing their parents are complete emotional beings is not something that should happen before you learn to stand on your own. and learning to stand on your own, paradoxically and inevitably, takes much longer when you are forced to grow up too fast. you are forced to mature too early and so you are immature in ways invisible. so many flavors of terrible responsibilities foisted upon them that no one should ever bear (raising a child while you are a child/the world is on fire and so are you/your parent also needs you to bear your shared emotional burden).

it’s so unfair. i’m bundling them both up in a blanket. han yoojin’s childhood was stolen away so he could give this simulacrum of a childhood to his brother but the world is terrible and yoojin is just a child too and it’s not possible it’s not his fault that the wonderful beautiful childhood he built is not, cannot be the bulwark in the face of brutal reality, that delicate childhood shaped by hands still so small too.

#hi i just got here. feeling something about children forced to grow up too soon and tragic siblings #by feeling something i mean im gnashing my teeth and wailing #han yoohyun #han yoojin #the han brothers #s classes that i raised #sctir meta #meta #meta from k #if there are no hyh defenders i am dead (hyj voice)#referencing post i rbed: he’s neurodivergent and a minor i can’t hate him #parentification #child neglect #sctir spoilers #(?) to be safe i think the nonhumanity of hyh is implied pretty early but you know. cant be too safe #anyway. semi related fic incoming

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hauntedhopeghost · 2 months ago

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An incomplete timeline of Green’s posts because I wanted to prove a theory

Note: BTW, if you reblog this, I want you to know that this post will be continuously updated and edited as long as Green posts, so your reblogged version will be outdated unless you do it when the arc ends, and when that's when this will stop updating.

ALSO, AS A SIDE NOTE: I live in the U.S., so that may affect the days, this is the day where I live and when it's posted.

September 1st, 2024. Wild Trick Shots is uploaded. And Green creates his channel.

September 4th. Super Orange vs. Greenzilla uploads.

September 6th. Alan announces the series, though it’s called an arc. The Green channel is discovered by a good chunk of people.

September 7th. The first episode, Green’s Channel is released.

September 10th. Super Orange vs. Flaming Red & Freezing Blue is uploaded. Still fairly normal. Posts a pic on his instagram with his friends, no tags.

September 12th. Green posts a BTS pic on instagram about the making of (presumably) Super Orange vs. Greenzilla.

September 13th. Vlog Through Minecraft is uploaded. This is when things start to go downhill. The cow makes an appearance.

September 14th. Another pic from Green. About the BTS of Super Orange vs. Flaming Red & Freezing Blue. Still fairly normal with the tags.

September 16th. Green posts a YouTube short with him thanking the fans for the milestone. He’s wearing the orange sunglasses as seen in A Special Song. Also posts on his instagram about a “not motivational” quote. That’s when the tagging plague started.

September 17th. Community tab post. Everyone wants to be named the grasshoppers for some stupid reason.

September 18th. Green gets Tiktok, posts his first dance Tiktok, abandons his friends for a cow, and updates his YouTube banner and bio. (He’s wearing sunglasses) Oh yeah, this also happens to be my brother’s birthday. (Happy Birthday!)

September 19th. Alleged Twitter incident. Also I ate grass and cried in the bathroom while Green posted a TikTok of him dancing Gangnam style.

September 20th. Green posts an instagram post with pictures of his new studio. He’s still wearing the glasses. New tiktok with him… what? I have no idea at this point.

September 21st. Green posts a video reacting and reading our comments. Unfortunately, he doesn't eat the grass. We get confirmation that the Color Gang have been 'acting weird' lately. (He's still wearing Orange glasses, my theory is looking more and more likely by the day) ...A somewhat interesting comment about Yellow that is bound to hurt, even though it was a couple days ago it's discovered by the people now. (Varying interpretations on it that we may not have gotten an answer yet.)

September 22nd. Green posts a YouTube short announcing he has a Tiktok. Not much happening... so far. A tiktok featuring Blue dancing is posted. Might be prerecorded but we don't know. It could be recorded at any time. But his friends are still here! ...right?

September 23rd. New tiktok of Red dancing this time! It seems like he's going to have everyone dance, apparently. It's really really fun though, watching the goober. (I'll try not to let my personal biases get through this I swear-)

September 25th. Green makes a community QnA post (I haven’t read the questions) and we get Yellow dancing.

September 26th. Orange dancing! (I don’t have tiktok I’m just going off of everyone’s posts lol) New Green instagram post where he definitely wants to eat grass and uhh idk he’s feeling cute. (HE HAS THE GLASSES) Oh yeah a tiktok of him dancing on a red background, still working on that.

September 27th. Tiktok pov: the fanbase wants Green to eat grass and I don’t think the Becker Team anticipated that. (Orange Glasses still on…)

September 28th. Surviving on the Couch for 24 hours, and he does manage to complete the challenge, though it appears rather boring from the perspective of the audience. No one is there. (🕶️) New Blue tiktok in which they are dancing in what's seemingly Adobe Premiere, I could be mistaken though. Instagram post of where Green (most likely) might be eating grass soon. Or teasing a video about it.

September 29th. So Green eats grass. Yeah. He does. He throws it up afterward so does it count? (🕶️) New dance tiktok, and the fandom somewhat goes insane over grass. (no context provided)

September 30th. Instagram post with a picnic next to cherry blossoms, presumably he’s pulling a prank… OH NOOOOOO (🕶️)

October 1st. Yay first day of October! … NO PRANK VIDEO- Green dumps all of his friends in lava as a “totally funny prank” … yeah. no. (🕶️) The fandom is currently combusting. Posts a new tiktok video hours later, it appears he’s in the same place where he reacted to people’s comments. Dancing.

October 2nd. … I have literally nothing to say. Green’s instagram post with him “cutting off toxic influences and fake friends.” It’s Second’s birthday. (And Dark’s) AND THIS HAPPENS- (🕶️)

October 4th. Green attempts a reaction video: Try not to laugh challenge. He gets a sponsor from NORD VPN, and there’s an ofd explosion at the end. (🕶️)

October 5th. The 2nd episode, "IS GREEN OKAY!?" is released. Spoiler alert: nobody is okay. (At this point, it hits way too close to home.) Later, he releases a video really late (in my time) titled, REACTING TO MY FRIENDS HAVING FUN WITHOUT ME. It might be from the recycling bin, we don’t know. (🕶️)

October 6th. Green releases a home tour video. With no one. He might be hearing something coming from upstairs, and he can’t find his friends anywhere. Later, a tiktok of him pointing out five things he can see while lying in bed. Apparently, he’s still fueled on comments, but also lonely. (Sidenote: Happy birthday, Mom!)

October 7th. Green’s picnic isn’t going so well, is it? His friends are behind the camera! Right…? (🕶️) (Picture of Green eating a sandwich next to cherry blossoms)

October 8th. A tiktok of Green, he might’ve been wiping away his tears at the beginning. “It’s okay to be sad, I’m always sad.” … I have nothing to say. “Mental health checkup.” (where is everyone?) (🕶️)

October 9th. Green is taking a break. Instagram post with no tags, and with just a picture of the sun.

October 10th. Green announces on YouTube that he's taking a break. The video is simply titled that. (OH MY GOSH GUYS HE LOST THE GLASSES)

October 11th. Multiple clips are uploaded, including the deleted orange tiktok dances, a blooper reel, Yellow doing a flip, Green cheating in the couch challenge, Red presenting something offscreen, and the original (with lots of effects) Super Orange vs. Greenzilla

October 14th. It’s confirmed: Influencer arc ep 3 is releasing this Saturday, or the 19th. It’s also confirmed that other channels such as ItsMeYellow are all fanmade.

October 19th. Burnout releases. Episode three. I will not be spoiling it, but WOW. YEIADHSHDHAHASGBABSJSJQSJ

#will be updated as the days go by!#ava influencer arc #ava green #animator vs animation #timeline #ugh i made a mistake in the timeline lowkey starting to doubt myself again but it's just a mistake. just a mistake.#alan becker #THIS WILL CONTINUED TO BE EDITED AS MORE EVENTS HAPPEN AND GREEN STEADILY GOES MORE INSANE #Ghost's timeline

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hvlcy0n · 4 months ago

Text

TEMPTRESS . . . toma hiragi x fem! reader

+ you think that having a small chest isn’t attractive. hiragi thinks that’s fucking ridiculous.

+ 5.7k words

+ NSFW (MDNI) // UNEDITED //oblivious reader // reader is written to be a B cup or smaller // intentional pov switching // tit play at the very end // you’re on this man’s last nerve // mentions of insecurity/self-consciousness // themes of noncon if you squint // mean!hiragi

+ yes i remember the poll i know BUT!! BUT BUT BUT i suddenly got the motivation to finish this one. it was supposed to be 1k words for hiragi and 1k for sugishita but yeah. i still haven’t gotten to sugishita yet, but it will be nowhere NEAR as long.

you’re doing this on purpose. you have to be.

beads of sweat dapple hiragi’s hairline as he sits rigidly at your kitchen counter, doing his best to occupy himself by thumbing through a recipe book you’d abandoned on the counter after your second failed attempt at baking some confectionery he’s never even heard of. the marble surface is cold against his skin as he hunches over the book in feigned interest, but it does very little to quell the heat running rampant through his body. he can spot your figure moving about in his peripheral vision, and he has to wrestle with the urge to sneak a glance at you.

something that he’s learned about you after becoming a frequent presence in your home is your newly developed habit of parading around your apartment in some of the smallest or most revealing tops he’s ever seen in his life—dainty bandeau–style tops that either cover the bare minimum or are adorned with a curtain of sheer fabric that baits him with flirtatious glimpses of your soft stomach as you move about; flimsy, little camisoles that seem more than fucking thrilled to show off the contour of your nipples and areolas; even tiny tops that appear to be nothing more than thin, delicate triangles of fabric bound together by a loose bow resting between your breasts that could be undone by a tug of his fingers.

you’re completely casual about it as well, shamelessly flaunting your new purchases and excitedly showing off to him as if the sight doesn’t leave his cock swelling with desire and straining against his jeans. he does his best to be a gentleman and prevent his eyes from lingering on your chest, only allowing them to briefly roam your figure when you ask for his opinion on the newest addition to your closet.

it seems as though every time he crosses the threshold into your apartment is a renewed clash between his wish to treat you with reverence and the flame of carnality you never fail to stoke, and it’s all he can do to remain respectful. you just make it so fucking difficult. how can he be expected to remain composed when you so brazenly seek his attention and have no problem cozying up to him dressed like that?

he recalls the first time he’d showed up to your place to find you clad in a loose–fitting, baby–blue tank top with a neckline that plunged so low that it was a miracle he didn’t catch a glimpse of your areolas. you had seemed perplexed when scarlet flooded his cheeks and he was rendered speechless, only to then grin when he awkwardly asked you if you were hot and wanted him to turn up the air conditioning. he was stunned when you dismissed his concerns with an airy wave of your hand and laughed that you didn’t think anything of it.

and truthfully, you didn’t.

it wasn’t that you were necessarily insecure about the size of your chest--at least, that's what you told yourself. you didn't like to think too hard about it. but what you could say for certain was that you didn’t believe it would ever be viewed as a catalyst for desire or as anything more than “cute” at best. the idea that men preferred large breasts had been hammered into your brain for as long as you can remember, but you had reached a point of utter exhaustion where you figured that the right person for you surely wouldn’t be deterred by something as trivial as that.

so, with that in mind, you decided to indulge the skimpier styles that your insecurities deprived you of, and you ended up wearing them around your apartment to grow accustomed to them. so what if you didn’t have the biggest tits on the block? the clothes were too cute to pass up. plus, you could get away without wearing a bra most of the time, so why not?

you definitely didn’t think that hiragi would think twice about it, either. in your eyes, he never expressed a particular interest in your breasts, so you figured that it would be alright to continue dressing however you wanted around him. surely he wouldn’t mind if you went without a bra or if your tops covered only the bare minimum, right?

wrong.

in fact, if it were up to hiragi, your chest and collarbones would be littered with hickeys. the only reason he’s refrained and kept his attention off your chest thus far is because he feared making you uncomfortable or frightening you off with his fervor. the way his large hand could completely engulf your breast alone was enough to cause saliva to pool on the cusp of his tongue, so he was less inclined to discover what would happen to his brain and you if he indulged himself.

it frustrated him. you seemed so unabashed, so certain that you could do whatever you wanted and that it would be a cold day in hell before he ravaged you. after all, you knew that at the core of his magisterial and somewhat jagged exterior existed a heart of gold and an unwavering desire to protect those he cared about. he was a natural-born leader, a protector. but, in unearthing such passion and being granted glimpses into the softer parts of his soul, it often slipped your mind that the influence of his exterior was still very much present. you’re none the wiser to his desires to hold you accountable, to make you just as flustered as you’ve made him.

“hey,” hiragi hums in surprise when you appear beside him, neck craning to take a peek at the contents of the page he absent–mindedly flipped to. “what are you looking at?”

momentarily forgetting his internal debate, he turns his head to acknowledge you, only for his eyes to subconsciously flick downward at the sight of exposed skin in his peripheral vision. he had forgotten that about two hours ago, you’d caved beneath the summer humidity and stripped off your oversized tee, leaving your torso bare aside from what you’d eagerly explained to be a “bralette.”

according to you, it served the same purpose as a bra; it just looked nicer. this one in particular is fashioned out of transparent, baby–pink lace and embellished with delicate floral patterns, the fabric plunging into a softly curved v-shape that converges at the middle of your sternum.

pretty.

he inhales sharply, ears flushing, when he notices that the petal designs adorning your chest do almost nothing to conceal you. despite the color of the material, your areolas are plainly visible, causing a zing to rocket up his spine. his grip on the book tightens until his knuckles blanch.

your brows furrow with concern when he doesn’t respond. “you okay?” you casually clasp your hands behind your back, consequently pushing your chest outward. he immediately tears his gaze away.

goddamnit. “uh, yeah. ‘m fine.” his tone is a bit more curt than he’d intended it to be. “just reading.”

“yeah?” you smile. “i never pegged you for a history guy, but i think the history of the blueberry muffin is pretty fascinating, too.”

“huh?” his eyes finally focus on the paragraph before him, and he winces when he realizes that he’s been “engrossed” in a story about sacks of flour and ripe blueberries being hoisted over mountains. “oh . . . yeah. pretty cool, huh?”

at first, he expects you to tease him for his perceived interest, but you’ve already reverted back to your worrisome expression and are now searching his face with troubled eyes. “you sure you’re alright? you look a little flushed. you might have a fever.”

“no, i—”

heat flares in his cheeks when you step closer—close enough for your chest to graze his bicep—and press the back of your hand to his forehead. “yeah, you feel a little warm.”

“i’m not sick!” he barks, succumbing to his vexation for a split second. you sharply withdraw your hand at the aggression sharpening his tone, and a thorn of guilt twists deep into his gut. he exhales deeply, raking his fingers through his soft, unstyled locks. “sorry,” he mutters. “it’s just . . . look, i don’t have a fever or anything, ‘kay? i didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

“then, what’s up?” the softening of his voice emboldens you to gently place your hand on his back and rub small circles over the cotton material of his sweatshirt. “is something else bothering you?”

is something else bothering him? he blinks, incredulous, at the innocuous twinkle in your eye. do you really not know? how could you not think anything of walking around for the past hour donning sheer fabric that shows him everything? he can’t fathom you behaving so boldly without at least possessing some sort of awareness.

he raises a brow. “you bein’ serious?”

you stare, taken aback, and your hand slows to a halt. “huh? yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

he can’t tell what has him further suspended in disbelief—the fact that you genuinely don’t understand or the fact that you have the gall to then proceed to adjust one of the straps on your bralette without breaking eye contact. his mind insists that you have to be fucking with him, but the earnest perplexity in your gaze argues otherwise. this makes zero sense to him. surely, you can’t believe that he should be indifferent to something like this. there’s no way. you should know better than that. he idly taps the fingertip of his index finger against the counter. but, if that’s not the case, then . . .

he needs to figure this out. “you, uh . . .” he’s reluctant, uncertain as to how to phrase his dilemma or how he’s even supposed to approach the issue to begin with. he offers a small nod toward your chest, but he keeps his eyes firmly planted on the space beside you. “it’s not necessarily botherin’ me, it’s just that your . . .” he mumbles. “is it s’posed to be see–through?”

“what?” you tilt your head slightly, only for your eyes to pop open in realization. “oh! you mean this?” you pinch the lace hem between your fingers. “it didn’t come with an extra layer, so i guess so. sorry. it’s supposed to go under clothes, but it’s just you here. plus, there’s not much of anything there, so whatever.”

a small, apologetic smile punctuates your final statement, but it hardly registers in his brain. rather, his brows are knit together in confusion, and he stares blankly as you nonchalantly shift your attention to something across the room. “huh? what’s that matter?”

“huh? what do you mean?” your eyes flicker back to his.

his lips part, but he remains silent, his jumbled thoughts tangling around his tongue as he processes your words. everything finally clicks into place, a wave of clarity sweeping away the stains of bewilderment obscuring his understanding of the situation. do you think . . ? certainly not. certainly, you aren’t insinuating that you anticipated indifference simply because of the size of your chest. that would be ridiculous.

but, he has to be positive.

after a beat of silence, he inhales deeply. “lemme ask you something,” he slides off the stool to stand before you. “what was goin’ through your mind an hour ago when you had the bright idea to strip?” he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slowly rolling back to acquire that extra inch that brings him to his full height.

“uh . . .” your eyes widen a fraction of an inch at his close proximity. “i don’t know what you mean, toma. i was just too hot. i wasn’t really—”

“you were.” he insists. he removes a hand from his pocket to lightly tap a finger against your forehead. “don’t lie to me. you’ve always got something goin’ on up in that head of yours.”

“no, it really wasn’t anything important!” you insist. “i just—” you hesitate, a shadow of hesitation crossing your features. “i know that guys don’t think anything of small boobs, so i thought it would be fine! i thought you would just see it as like, y’know . . . just as whatever. that’s literally it. that’s all i was thinking!”

you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“so,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “lemme get this straight. you think that just ‘cause you don’t have big tits means that i wouldn’t care about you prancin’ around wearin’ shit like that?”

you flinch, and he regrets not having selected his words more meticulously. but, before he can backpedal and correct his mistake, you avert your eyes and fold your arms petulantly over your chest. “well, if you say it like that . . .” you mumble, “then it sounds bad.”

“well, then you’re really not gonna like what i have to say next.” he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “thinkin’ that guys don’t care about their girl walkin’ around half–naked is about as stupid as firing a gun straight up and expecting the bullet not to come back down. i dunno what kinda guys you’ve been talkin’ to, but something like . . . that doesn’t matter.”

“have you seen literally any piece of media or met any other man? it does—”

“no, it doesn’t,” he grunts. “look,” he sighs, shaking his head. “i’ll be honest. i wasn’t readin’ shit out of that book. i was only pretending so i didn’t keep starin’ at you and make you uncomfortable, ‘cause i thought you knew that any man with a shred of common sense would have a damn field day with you wandering around like that.” he kisses his teeth. “doesn’t matter if you’ve got the biggest tits in the world or the smallest. any guy that wouldn’t look twice at you when you’re this pretty and dressed like that has to be out of his damn mind, and i gotta say . . .” he allows his gaze to roam for a moment, catching the stutter of your chest as you listen to him speak, “i’m disappointed you think that low of me.”

this time, you don’t have a retort already rolling around in your brain. it’s as if his words have wiped it blank and scattered your thoughts, leaving you to stare at him in what can only be described as sheer wonder. for a moment, hiragi’s shoulders relax, believing that he’d managed to get through to you. but, almost as soon as he dares to exhale, the corners of your lips twitch upward, and your laughter splits the air.

“aw, toma,” his eyes round when they search yours and find nothing more than twinkling mirth and mischief. your arms unfold to swing playfully down to your sides. he stiffens, head retracting slightly when you lean in with a jocose grin.

you’re close—close enough for there to only be a hairsbreadth of an inch between your bodies. a shadow of molten lust seeps into his emerald irises, melting them down into muted, viridescent pools lit only by the smoldering flame flickering beneath the surface. but, you don’t seem to notice, head too stuffed with cotton and saccharine adoration to realize that your antics have landed you in the perfect position to be ensnared and swept off your feet before you can even think to smear that pleased grin off your face.

it doesn’t matter if it’s your intention or not—you’re pushing him, testing the waters, steadily chipping away at his last fragments of discipline until they’re whittled down into tapered fangs poised to sink greedily into your soft body. but, he resolves to remain still, letting you handle him as you please. after all, he’s done all that he can. the consequences of whatever you decide to do with the information he revealed to you will fall entirely on your shoulders.

your hands raise to cradle his face between your palms, and you coo, “i have the sweetest boyfriend ever! always the gentleman.” when you release him and take a step back, he notices a glint of something almost wistful in your gaze. “but, you don’t have to say any of that. i’d rather you be truthful than try to make me feel better, and you really don’t have to! it doesn’t really bother me anymore. it just is what it is, y’know?” you shrug.

disbelief flares inside him as he lowers his arms back to his sides and stares at you, aghast. he can’t believe it. even after all of that, you’re still not taking him seriously.

“you think i’m lying?”

“i have to admit,” you confess with a chuckle, “it made me happy to hear you say that. but,” your index finger lifts to tap against his chest, and the sparkle in your eye has returned, “i’ve heard it before. it’s the same, old story, but there’s never any follow–through.” you chuckle, but his features soften in surprise when he notices the slightly wry edge to it. “see, half the time the guys saying it are just hoping that girls will be insecure or ‘appreciative’ enough to fuck them just because they’re ‘different’ and ‘not shallow,’ or whatever.” suddenly, your eyes widen, and you rush to correct yourself. “oh! but that’s not to say i think that’s what you’re doing. i know you’re not like that. but, like, for example, up until literally today, you’ve never really expressed any sort of interest in that part of me, and it’s okay, toma. seriously. i’m not expecting you to or anything, so you don’t have to feel bad.”

it’s right then and there that it truly dawns on hiragi that this isn’t about you toying with his restraint or playing dumb. rather, this is about a misconception that’s so deeply rooted in your psyche that you believe it to be the truth. he had a difficult time wrestling with the idea, but now . . . a dull ache of culpability bleeds throughout his chest as he realizes that in the end, it doesn’t even matter why he kept himself reserved. what matters is that he did, and now he doesn’t even have a leg to stand on in convincing you, because all you know are his actions—or, he supposes, his lack of action.

“shit,” his voice is so quiet that it’s intelligible, and his eyes flutter shut in resignation. all at once, every ounce of the tumult and guilt churning in the pit of his stomach roils into a surge of agitation. had he known what to say to dismantle your misconceptions, had he taken the initiative to demonstrate his feelings, had he been more attentive or perhaps more in–tune with you as your boyfriend—then maybe neither of you would even be here, the helpless frustration simmering in his gaze reflecting off the jumble of unreadable emotions in your own, standing on opposite sides of the same spectrum with zero intention of budging on your views despite there being only a fraction of an inch of space between your bodies.

but, you are.

he loathes the feeling of being powerless in the face of turmoil—of being unable to fully comprehend or relate to the depth of your issues and thus being left to scramble for a solution unattainable by his own wisdom or the hardened fists he’d relied upon for years. he doesn’t know what to do, and it’s both disheartening and vexing.

this is nothing like when he’d mentored his underclassman or tried to boost morale among disheartened gang members in the past. he’s never been quite skilled at appealing to women or handling their emotions, either his intimidating physical appearance or his rough and occasionally crude manner of speaking tending to spark more anxiety than comfort. the rational part of his brain reasons that a more delicate, gentle approach would be suitable for handling your insecurities. but when all he’s left with is dogged determination, internalized frustration that he hasn’t yet found an outlet for, and a particularly agitating throb of desire that’s been wreaking havoc on his self–control for the better part of a week, he finds that his composure is wearing thin.

“hey,” he’s snapped back into focus at the feeling of your ticklish fingertips sliding over his hands, coaxing open the fists he didn’t realize he’d balled them into. “either way, i appreciated it.” he expels a deep, drawn–out breath at your reassurance. perhaps it’s due to the heavy sense of responsibility that’d been drilled into him during his time in furin, but he can’t bring himself to accept your words. he should have done more. he should be able to do more. he’s mowed down countless opponents in the past and garnered respect from even more, yet he can’t manage to do his job as your boyfriend?

that can’t be true.

when he doesn’t reply, you toss your arms around his waist in a loose embrace. “c’mon, quit sulking,” you tease. “if you keep frowning like that, you’ll have wrinkles in three years.”

“i’m not sulking,” he gripes, but the way he folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter tells you otherwise.

“you are.” you retort playfully. you’re intent on closing the distance, and hiragi can’t help the rosy blush that blooms along his cheeks when you push your chest up against his forearm in the process. you’re quick to notice, and a devilish smile crosses your lips. “oh, don’t tell me. what, is my voluptuous bust bothering you? is it distracting?” you snort, suggestively raising your brows. but hiragi doesn’t find your taunting amusing.

“what’s the matter? why are you so quiet?” hiragi’s jaw ticks, the mirthful twinkle in your eye exacerbating the heat welling under his skin. “you’re pretty red—oh, was i right all along and you do have a fever?”

“you’re pushin’ it.” he grunts.

“i’m not doing anything.” you protest, but you both know that you’re full of shit. “i can’t be worried about my boyfriend’s health?”

a vein pulses in his temple.

ignoring the murkiness seeping into his gaze, you lift your hand with an ostentatious flourish and make a show of placing your palm flat over his forehead, melding your body flush against his. “just as i thought. not only are you flushed, but you’re pretty warm, too. say,” you release him and step back, planting your hands on your hips in feigned contemplation, “it’s still kinda hot in here, isn’t it?

“no.”

“mm, i think it is,” you grin. “at least, i’m a bit warm.” you reach out and tug on the hem of his sweatshirt. “maybe you should take this off.” your eyes light up with a new idea, and he feels his jaw slacken, world slowing to a crawl, when you hook your fingers beneath the band of your bralette with a wicked glint in your eye. “or, maybe, i should take this off—”

all at once, the maelstrom swelling in his chest detonates, splattering his muscles and veins with a white-hot smattering of frustration that licks over every fiber and striation until he can practically feel the steam emanating from his skin. your laughter cuts off into a surprised gasp when his large hands clamp down on your hips, calloused fingertips dimpling the soft flesh just above your waistband as he hoists you up and slams you down onto the counter as if you were nothing more than a glass paperweight.

he scoffs when you have the audacity to look shocked from your place seated atop the marble surface, pretty eyes wide with surprise and hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders for balance—or maybe it’s to keep him at bay, he isn’t certain. “toma . . ?” to his satisfaction, your voice is now hushed, stripped of every salacious undertone and taunting lilt that had been driving him up the fucking wall.

your eyes nervously flicker down to his hands when they brace themselves on the edge of the counter on either side of you, sinewy arms bracketing you in and barricading every quick escape route. you wither under the dark intensity of his gaze, and when he speaks, his low, gravelly tone borders on a growl. “so, you still think i’m lyin’, huh?

you flinch as he renews the topic that you’d been adamant on dismissing. your lips form words, but your voice is still wedged in your throat as your brain struggles to comprehend the sudden shift in the atmosphere and the fact that you were literally swept off your feet.

pride sears his chest as he realizes that he has you exactly as he needs you—subdued and finally ready to fucking listen. all you needed was a little jolt back to reality, it seems. it is a shame, really, how you’ve forced his hand. maybe if you had teased him just a little bit less . . . or maybe if you’d refrained from pulling that very last stunt, he’d have been ready to demonstrate his gratitude to you for dialing it back. unfortunately, now he’s wound too tightly to let you off the hook without returning the favor.

he chuckles dryly. “what’s the matter? why’re ya so quiet? had the biggest mouth just a second ago.”

indignation sparks in your eyes as he shamelessly throws your words back in your face, but such tiny scintillas aren’t enough to sustain the steadiness of your voice as you mumble, “i don’t . . . i don’t know what you want me to say.” your fingers curl into his sweatshirt, drawing the loose material into your fists.

he scoffs. “‘course not. that brain of yours always stops workin’ right about now, doesn’t it?”

“hey!” you object. “i’m not—”

but, he’s reached his limit, and he doesn’t intend to let you hold the reins anymore. you will hear him, even if he has to pluck at a couple of your strings to make you.

you owe him that much.

“you think you’re real cute, huh?” he cuts you off, the sunlight glinting off the sharp points of his pearly white teeth a drastic contrast to the shadow of bated need swallowing up his irises. “tell me. you been havin’ fun runnin’ around and hangin’ all over me with your tits on display? bein’ a damn tease? almost makin’ me pop a blood vessel tryin’ to keep my eyes up? all ‘cause you thought i wouldn’t care?”

a wave of something unreadable floods your gaze, and you wince. “wait . . . you were being serious?” you pipe up timidly.

“deadly.”

reluctance tinges your features, and he can practically see your internal divide as you drift between the past and the present—between the words of some asshole and the unfiltered, undeniable need flaring in hiragi’s gaze. “i didn’t know you were actually . . .” your voice trails off. “but why? it’s like every guy—”

“doesn’t matter.” he leans forward until his face is level with yours, and the conflict swirling behind your eyes is clearer than ever. “this isn’t about anyone except for you and me.” his voice is a low rumble. “no one else.” you don’t answer. instead, you break eye contact with a slight downward tilt of your head, cheeks warm with embarrassment. his palm moves to cradle your jaw, blunt fingernails sinking harmlessly into your cheeks as he angles your head up and redirects your line of sight back to him. “you understand?” his voice is firm yet not unkind, bearing an edge just rough enough to get his point across.

his grip yields under the tiny nod you return. “i understand,” your response is timid, but there’s a tiny seed of a newfound acceptance beginning to take root in your eyes that makes his stomach flip.

in one smooth movement, he releases your face and slips his fingers beneath the dainty straps of your bralette, sliding them off your shoulders and down your arms. your petulant, mild whine of “hey!” is kicked to the backburner as he hooks his fingertips over the band at the center of your chest and yanks the fabric down to expose you entirely.

you yelp in surprise and snatch your hands away from him, but he hardly notices. his mouth waters as his eyes brazenly roam the expanse of your chest. “christ, look at you.” he mutters, occupying his tongue with skimming over the tips of his teeth to ward off the urge to pop one of your nipples in his mouth and abuse it until it’s swollen and shiny with saliva—exactly like he’s been dreaming about. “fuckin’ perfect.”

embarrassment is scrawled across your features at his crude language and the sudden barrage of attention as you sit, stone–still and rigid with uncertainty. your skin is hot to the touch, and hiragi watches in displeasure as your shoulders bow forward ever–so slightly, as if curling into yourself to evade his view. it becomes clear to him that your brain is still suspended in limbo as you try to comprehend his behavior. it’s almost amusing. for as much as you were running your mouth before, now you can’t bring yourself to raise your eyes any higher than the silver chain peeking just above the collar of his hoodie, and your arms instinctively snake across your chest to conceal your breasts.

“don’t.”

the stern authority in his voice splinters the tension between you, and you immediately freeze in place, eyes shooting up to his. there’s a moment of heavy silence that stretches between you, suffocating and cumbersome as it drapes itself over hiragi’s shoulders. it’s a moment of waiting—waiting for you to cleave through his control with a single word, waiting for you to push him away and establish boundaries, waiting for any sign of rejection that would cause him to withdraw entirely and give you room to breathe.

but, you refrain.

it’s slow, akin to a flower’s petals unfurling under the kiss of sunlight. but he can see it in the ebb of the guarded furrow of your brows and the shift of your expression into something more open and trusting; the measured bloom of need that’s beginning to emerge from beneath the gossamer sheen of embarrassment and inhibition veiling your eyes; the gradual relaxation of your muscles until your hands fall acquiescently into your lap and your tense shoulders decompress—you’re making the step toward relinquishing yourself to him, trusting him.

the sight provides the assurance he needs, and just like that, the dynamic resumes.

“spent all damn week showin’ off. don’t know what you’re gettin’ shy for now.” he mutters, and you frown at his words.

“no—” you gasp softly when he dips his head down to plant a heated kiss on your shoulder, “wasn’t showing off. you’re just being mean.”

he can see the goosebumps scatter across your chest when he huffs a low laugh, warm breath caressing your collarbone. “me? if anyone was bein’ mean, it was you. you know how difficult you were makin’ it to keep my hands off ya?”

“how was i supposed to know?” you whine, squirming under the ticklish sensation. “you never . . . i thought . . .”

“i know i didn’t, and ‘m sorry. i should’ve.” he can hear the hitch in your breathing at his murmured confession. “just didn’t wanna scare ya off.” he retracts his head to meet your eyes and places a warm hand on your thigh in an attempt to reassure you. but when he feels the prickle of goosebumps beneath his palm and spots the heated dilation of your pupils as you observe him, he chuckles. “although, it looks like i never had anything to worry about to begin with.”

“of course not.” you mumble shyly. “just tell me next time.”

“deal.” he cracks a lopsided, wolfish grin. “so, you gonna give me the chance to make up for it?”

your eyes round, flustered at the implication of his offer. it’s one final chance for you to back out—for you to successfully extinguish the lecherous flame stirring within him, because he’s not sure how well he’ll be able to wrangle himself back in once you finally let him have his way with you. instead, your head bobs forward in a quick, little nod, and you confess sheepishly, “i would like that.”

his heart thuds in his chest at your permissive words, and god, he hopes that you know what floodgates you’ve opened. . .

you squeal when his head dips low without warning, fingertips rough with greed as they eagerly pinch and grope at your supple nipples, sharp teeth already grazing over your skin in search of the best place to leave the first mark of many. it happens so abruptly that you choke on the gasp that’s punched from your chest, body trembling beneath the blitz of stimulation.

. . . because he’s certain that by the time he’s satisfied, weeks from now, long after the marks of tonight have vanished, merely catching a glimpse of your bare skin in the mirror will be enough to remind you exactly how he feels about you.

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x you #windbreaker smut #hiragi smut #toma hiragi smut #toma hiragi x reader #hiragi x reader #hiragi toma

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