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á°áŠ motherhood and matrimony I ch 3 á°áŠ





ę¨ď¸ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
ę¨ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoruâs father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
ę¨ď¸ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) Âť ănote, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (m masturbation)ă
ę¨ words: 13.3k
ę¨ a/n. oh wowie, here it is. i hope ya'll enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading âĄ
ę¨ taglist: closed (ao3)
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ch 3 // fractured realities

Streams of light filter in through the drapes of your bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room.
A groan escapes your lips as you feel a dull throb on your templeâa reminder of the countless glasses of wine and champagne you indulged in at the gala. But as fragmented images of the evening flood your mind, your headache doesnât end there.
You kissed Satoru Gojo.
Correctionâyou kissed the hell out of Satoru Gojo.
Each detail is more vivid than the lastâthe warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hold, the taste of him, and his soft groan that you swallowed against your lips.
God, it felt too real, too intense.
You sit up in your bed, rubbing your temples as you try to shake off the lingering effects of last nightâs revelry, but you canât ignore the fluttering sensation that stirs withinâyour cheeks growing hot from the memory.
Ugh. Being hungover and flushed is not a combination you enjoy.
When did Satoru start having such an intense effect on you?
You want to blame it on a lapse of judgementâperhaps the alcohol lowered your inhibitions? Sure, letâs go with that. That feels better than admitting that maybe you secretly wanted to kiss Satoru Gojo.
Heâs insufferable after allâyou canât stand himâŚright?
Fuck, this is confusing.
Why does it feel like there has been a subtle tension between you and Satoru that has been simmering beneath the surface for a while now, each interaction, each glance, adding fuel to the fire?
Every shared look carries an unspoken promise, every touch lingers a fraction too long, leaving your skin tingling and your heart racing. Itâs as if youâre both walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something profoundly transformative.
Are you imagining things?
Silently cursing yourself, you know these thoughts youâre having will only make things more complicated. This is simply a contractânothing more.
Transactional. Business.
With a deep sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, hoping to shake off these intrusive throughs with a stretch of your muscles.
If only it were that simple.
Perhaps a shower will help clear your mindâa chance to cleanse yourself from the remnants of last nightâs indulgences.
Shuffling towards the bathroom, a yawn escapes your mouth as you rub your eyes tiredly, reaching for the door. But the moment you open it, you freeze in your tracks.
With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Satoru stands outside the shower, droplets of water glistening on his bare chest, each bead tracing the defined lines of his muscles. You canât help but notice the way the water trails down his torso, accentuating every ridge and curve. Itâs as if heâs been sculpted from marble, each detail painstakingly crafted to perfection.
For a moment, neither of you moveâa stunned silence filling the room as your eyes lock.
His damp hair sticks to his forehead in an almost boyish manner, contrasting sharply with his otherwise commanding presence, and your eyes trail downwardsâŚ
Oh.
The smooth contours of his abs carve a path down towards the towel hanging precariously low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.
Your heart races, and you feel a blush rushing to your cheeks. Your eyes flicker back up to Satoruâs and fuck, he caught youâeyes twinkling with amusement as his lips slowly curl into a self-satisfied grin.
âGood morning to you too. Enjoying the view?â
The heat in your cheeks intensifies as your eyes widen, blinking rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your daze.
âI... I didnât realize you were in here,â you stammer, voice higher than usual.
Satoruâs smirk widens as he reaches for an extra towel, rubbing it against his head to dry his hair. He then drapes the towel across his shoulders and meets your gaze with an alluring glint.
âWell, if you wanted to see more, you only had to ask.â
Pressing your lips together in protest, you try to regain some semblance of composure. Satoru had always teased youâdonât take it too seriously, you tell yourself.
Clearing your throat, you advert your gaze, though the crimson hue still remains on your cheeks.
âDonât flatter yourself. It was an accidentâbesides, youâre the one who forgot to lock the door.â
Satoru lets out a contemplative hum, feigning innocence as he walks towards the sink.
âGuess Iâm not used to sharing a bathroom,â he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, eyes surveying you with a mischievous glint, âYouâre to blame too though, couldâve at least knocked. Unless, you were hoping to join me?â he grins.
Your eyes widen, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck.
âIn your dreams, Satoru.â
A low chuckle escapes him as his stare bores into youâoh how he lives for this. Satoruâs always loved seeing you flustered, but this? This is something else entirely, a new level of satisfaction he hadnât anticipated.
âSure, sure,â he pauses, then tilts his head to the side. âBut youâre still standing there, arenât you?â
You swallow hard, eyes flickering between his face and his chest, unable to decide where to look. His satisfaction grows with every falter in your gaze, his knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Each glance is a step deeper into a trap of your own making, an unspoken admission that he holds more sway over you than you care to admit.
âJust... put some clothes on, please. And yes, Iâm standing here because Iâd like to take a shower. Arenât you done? Why are you still here.â
âOh sure, Iâm done. You can shower, but arenât you gonna return the favor? Do I get a show too?â
Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. The intensity of his gaze pins you in place, a silent challenge that sends a shiver through your body.
âNot a chance,â you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. âThis isnât some kind of peep show.â
Satoru gives you an annoyingly innocent pout, rubbing his neck with a sly grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.
âTch. Too bad. Wouldâve been a great way to start the morning.â
You roll your eyes, pushing past him to get to the shower.
âOut,â you command, pointing towards the door.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling as he walks out.
âAlright, alright. Enjoy your shower, princess.â
You lock the door firmly behind himâheart pounding and your thoughts in disarray. As you step into the shower and the warm water cascades over you, you canât help but replay the scene in your mind, each word and gesture etched vividly in your memory.
Heâs just teasingâyou remind yourself as you try to push away the fluttering feeling in your chest. Donât take his words seriously, your relationship is a charade.
You close your eyes, letting the water wash over you, but the confusion remains.
Fuck. This is getting complicated.
ę¨ď¸
The moment you close the door firmly behind him, Satoru leans against it for a moment, his smirk fading into a more contemplative expression.
He runs a hand through his hairâthe sight of you, wide-eyed and blushing, had done more to him than he cared to admit. Exhaling slowly, he realizes that heâs in deeper than he thought.
As his thoughts drift back to the kiss you had shared at the gala, a familiar heat pools in his lower abdomen. The way your lips had felt against hisâsoft and invitingâthe memory of your taste, the way you fit so perfectly against himâŚfuck. It stirs something primal within him.
He canât deny the growing attraction he feels. After seeing you there with your cheeks flushed and your eyes surveying him, he had wanted to pull you closer, to see if your lips were as warm and inviting as he remembered.
Satoru groans as he adjusts his towel, feeling the fabric brush against his growing erection, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked at himâthe way the framework of your sleepwear accentuated your curves, the indent of your nipples peeking through the thin satin of your tank top. God, his desire only intensifies.
The contract was clearâno emotional entanglements. Yet here he was, aroused as his mind is consumed by you. He canât help but wonderâŚwhat would it be like to explore this connection further, to let go, to give in to his curiosity completely.
Would it be so bad to justâŚfantasize?
He hears the shower turn on from behind the closed doorâGod, he can just imagine what it would be like to slide his hands all over your bare body.
Reaching down, he unwraps the towel from his waist, his cock slamming against his abdomen as it springs free from confinement. He curses under his breath; this wasnât supposed to happen. He shouldnât be thinking of you like this, but he canât help but reach down and grip the base of his girthâhe needs this, he wants this.
He needs you.
A soft groan escapes his lips as he begins to stroke himself, his hand moving slowly as he traces a familiar path over his length. There's a dull thud as Satoru's head hits the door, his eyes fluttering shut as he gives in to his imagination.
He can picture it vividly in his mind, the way the water would slide over your body, the way you'd respond to his touch... fuck, he can practically hear the little gasps and moans that would escape your lips as he touches you, the sounds that would drive him wild.
He bites his bottom lip, his hand moving slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. The thought of you, just on the other side of the door, excites him even more.
His breath comes out in short gasps as he imagines you, wet and wanting under the spray of the shower. The way your body would arch beneath his touch as he slides his digits between your warm walls. The water would run in rivulets down your body and youâd shiver under his touch, whispering his name, begging for more.
His breathing grows heavier as he speeds up his pace, envisioning you on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, wet and flushed, looking up at him with a half-lidded desire in your eyes.
He wants you so desperately it's painfully evident in every movementâitâs almost too much to bear.
Your name slips from his lips â a desperate plea rather than a simple invocation. Fuck, it feels so good to have your name rolling off his tongue as he does something so indecent.
He can almost feel your hot, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive head, tasting him, savoring him. His free hand trails down to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers as he pumps faster, just as you would while you take every inch of him in your pretty little mouth.
âFuckâŚâ he hisses through clenched teeth, his pace quickening as he chases the release he so desperately craves.
He shouldnât be doing this, especially not right outside the bathroom door. But in this moment, he can't bring himself to care. Nothing else matters but you.
He pictures himself taking you right there, pushing you against the tiled wall, claiming your mouth in a fierce kiss as he thrusts himself deep inside you. The image of you quivering in pleasure drives Satoru further into madness. His strokes become erratic, desperate.
Satoru's entire body tenses, muscles coiling tight as he throws his head back. A desperate whine slips past his clenched teeth âFuckâŚIâm gonnaâŚâ
His hips jerk erratically, pumping his cock in time with the spasms wracking his body. He whimpers as spurt after spurt of hot cum coats his stomach and chest, the sticky fluid painting his skin with evidence of his forbidden desires. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by another forceful stroke as his hand continues to move, milking every last drop.
Panting heavily, he slumps against the door, his heart pounding in his chest while his spent cock twitches with residual pleasure. As he slowly comes back to reality, he realizes what he's done.
This wasn't supposed to happenâhe was meant to tease you, not end up teasing himself. But there was no denying the effect you had on him anymore.
Fuck.
What the fuck is he thinking? This canât happen again.
He needs to take another shower.
ę¨ď¸
Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a fluffy towel around your body as the warm steam curls around you. You begin to head back to your room, but the moment you open the bathroom door, you are caught off guard, immediately met by one of the house staff, holding out a freshly laundered robe.
âGood morning, maâam. Your robe.â
âThank you,â you hesitate slightly, trying to offer a polite smile.
Taking the robe, you begin to make your way to the walk-in closet, yet another staff member is waiting with a selection of outfits.
"I've picked out a few choices for today's events, Mrs. Gojo."
You take a deep breath, "Thanks, I'll take a look."
Itâs barely morning and you already have staff at your beck and callâsure, they mean well, but itâs suffocating. Youâre not one for a lot of attention.
As the staff member steps aside, you examine the array of outfits.
Your eyes scan the elegant dresses, tailored suits, and chic ensembles neatly arranged on hangers. Itâs not quite as elegant as the gala, but itâs clear that Satoru must have something important planned for the day. Each outfit exudes sophistication and class, far more extravagant than your usual attire.
As you run your fingers over the fabric of a particularly stunning dress, a ball of nerves settles within you. The thrill of wondering what Satoru has in store is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You select the dress, hoping it aligns with whatever he has planned.
After slipping into the elegant dress, you make your way to your vanity. But just as your fingers curl around the handle of your hairbrush, a maid materializes at your side, yet again.
"Good morning, ma'am. Can I assist you with your hair today?"
Is a moment to yourself too much to ask?
Your headache from last nightâs wine lingers, and the incessant stream of people is beginning to fray your nervesâitâs really too much.
Offering another polite smile, you try to mask the mild irritation simmering beneath.
"No, thank you. I can manage.â
The maid nods and steps back, only for another staff member to glide in right behind her, almost as if choreographed.
This one carries a gleaming silver tray adorned with an array of high-end skincare products, each bottle and jar meticulously arranged, their labels promising luxury and perfection.
"Your skincare routine, ma'am."
You close your eyes momentarily, trying to remain patient, your voice as calm as you can manage.
"I appreciate it, really, but I have my own products."
The staff member hesitates, her expression a mix of confusion and professionalism.
"Of course, ma'am," she replies, inclining her head respectfully before retreating.
As the door closes behind her, you release a long, weary sigh. The constant attention is smothering, and you long for the simplicity of your old life.
Those quiet mornings, the sweet solitary moments where you could just⌠be â without the pressure of performing or living up to impossible standards.
But like it or not, this is your reality now. Guess youâll just need to find a way to navigate it without losing yourself in the process.
ę¨ď¸
By the time you make it downstairs, Haru is already seated at the elegant dining table, her small hands fiddling with her silverware. Satoru sits at the head of the table, reading through some documents.
The table is laden with a lavish breakfast spreadâperfectly arranged fruits, pastries, and an assortment of gourmet dishes. The scent threatens to overwhelm you as the lingering effects of last nightâs indulgence in wine and champagne churn in your stomach.
"Good morning," Satoru says, glancing up with a grin, looking annoyingly refreshed.
Rubbing the temple of your head, you attempt a tired smile.
âMorning.â
Satoru watches you with amusement as you slide into your seat. The rich aroma of the elaborate breakfast instantly greets your nostrils, prompting a groan to escape your lips. Â
"How are you feeling?" he quirks a brow.
"Like I drank half the wine cellar," you grimace.
Satoru leans back in his chair, his grin widening, and Haru giggles, watching you with wide curious eyes as you bury your face in your hands.
âMama sleepy,â she declares with the wisdom of a two-year-old.
âYes, HaruâŚMama is very sleepy,â you mutter, peaking at her through your fingers. Despite the hangover, that innocent laugh brings a small smile to your face.
Satoru chuckles, setting his documents aside as he reaches for his mug.
"You shouldâve stuck to the champagne, lightweight," he teases, bringing his coffee up to his lips.
You shoot him a half-hearted glare.
"Not helping."
A chef sets down a plate of perfectly arranged eggs benedict directly in front of you with a flourish, each element meticulously placed. The aroma wafts up and you instinctively push the plate away.
"Actually, do you have any toast? With jelly?" your voice tinged with a mix of disgust and desperation.
The chef looks momentarily puzzled, a slight furrow forming on his brow, but he nods politely.
"Of course, ma'am."
You abruptly get up, deciding to find it yourself. Making your way to the nearby pantry, you move with purpose as you begin rummaging through the neatly organized shelves. You feel Satoruâs amused gaze following your every move. Turning, you see him leaning back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches you with evident curiosity.
âYou're like a college student after a party. All this gourmet food and you want toast?"
Your fingers brush past jars of exotic spices and imported oils until you finally find what youâre looking forâa simple loaf of bread and a jar of ruby-red jelly. The familiar, comforting sight of them brings a small, satisfied smile to your lips. You turn to Satoru, holding up the items triumphantly.
âI just want something simple.â
As you set the bread and jelly down on the counter, Haru, perched nearby with wide and curious eyes, giggles at the sight.
"Mama wants toast!" she announces gleefully, her little voice echoing through the kitchen like a bell.
A grin curls up your lips as you unclasp the bread bag.
"Yes, mama wants toast," you say, popping a slice into the toaster. Leaning casually against the marble countertop, you shift your gaze to Satoru. âAnyways Mr. Gourmet, whatâs the plan for today?â
Satoru leans back, his eyes narrowing playfully as he studies you.
"Well, I was thinking we could go over some things regarding Gojo Corporation. There are a few upcoming projects Iâve been meaning to discuss with you and Iâd like your insight."
You arch an eyebrow, mildly caught off guard by the suggestion.
"Really? You usually handle all that on your own."
He nods, the movement slow and deliberate.
"True," he concedes, "but as my wife, I think itâs time you start coming back to the office with me. I want you to be more involved, and itâs important for everyone to see us working together as a team."
Your eyes widen in surprise.
"You want me to be more involved? Iâm just a secretary."
Satoru shrugs with a casual air, but thereâs a determined edge to his voice that tells you heâs thought this through.
"Iâve taken on a lot more responsibilities lately, and I could use your help. Besides, your insights have always been valuable to me.â
You open your mouth to respond, but the sudden pop of the toaster pulls your attention away. Â Turning your focus to the toast, you carefully spread jelly across the warm slice, but the task does little to settle the fluttering sensation in your chest.
This is a big ask.
You've always been behind the scenes, a secretary who knew the inner workings but never sat at the table where decisions were made. And now, here he is, trusting you with responsibilities that feel like they belong to someone elseâsomeone more experienced, more confident.
Itâs strange, surreal even, that Satoru would entrust you with such a significant role. Even if this is just a charade, this role requires more than just understanding the business. It requires being a partner in the truest sense.
âSoâŚyouâre serious about this? Gojo Corporation, weâre doing this together now?â you ask, returning to your seat, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty as you search his eyes for reassurance.
Satoru nods.
âAbsolutely. I think itâs time we show everyone what a true power couple looks like,â he replies, punctuating his words with a wink.
Leaning forward, he rests his chin in the cradle of his hand as he props his elbow casually on the table. His gaze locks onto yours, a glint of something more behind his deep blue eyes.
âBesides,â he continues, his voice softening slightly, âthe office just isnât the same without you.â
You take a slow bite of your toast, savoring the buttery warmth as it spreads across your tongue, but itâs nothing compared to the unexpected warmth blossoming in your chest at his words.
âYeah, right,â you murmur, âYou just want to make me do all the paperwork."
His grin broadens, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, dangerously charming smile that always seems to disarm you.
"Guilty as charged."
Haru reaches out eagerly, her tiny fingers wiggling with impatience.
âToast!â she demands with all the confidence and adorable assertiveness of a two-year-old.
You tear off a small piece and place it into her eagerly awaiting hand. She takes it with a giggle, her eyes lighting up as she munches happily.
As you lift your toast back up to your lips, you catch Satoruâs gaze lingering on you. There is a subtle shift in his expressionâa depth of emotion, a certain tenderness that makes you wonder what he could be thinking.
"What?" you ask, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone, though youâre not entirely sure why.
He doesnât respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. Thereâs a mischievous glint in his eyes as he finally speaks.
"Nothing," he eventually says with a playful yet genuine edge. âItâs just... interesting to see you choose something so ordinary.â
âSometimes less is more.â you counter, a hint of challenge in your voice. âBesides, not everyone grew up with chefs and staff at their beck and call. Itâs a bit much sometimes.â
Satoru leans back in his chair, the smirk widening as he crosses his arms over his chest.
âOh? Are you saying my lifestyle is too much for you?â
You gesture broadly around the lavish room.
"Look at all this,â you exclaim, your voice tinged with a mix of awe and exasperation. âThe staff, the gourmet meals, the constant attention. It's like I'm living in a palace. I can't breathe without someone trying to do something for me, and I canât even cook for Haru without feeling like I'm stepping on someone's toes."
The words spill out before you can catch them, each one landing with a weight you hadnât fully anticipated. Thereâs an undercurrent of something deeper in your tone, a tension that has been simmering just below the surfaceâan unease that youâve been trying to push aside, but now, in this moment, it bubbles over, impossible to ignore.
Satoruâs gaze sharpens and he arches an eyebrow as he catches the subtle shift in your demeanor.
"You miss cooking?" his voice softening with genuine interest.
âYeah, I do,â you confess, your voice tinged with a mix of longing and resignation. âItâs one of the few things that makes me feel grounded, like Iâm in control of something. Plus, Haru loves my cooking.â
He regards you with an intensity that catches you off guard.
âI didnât realize you felt that way. You know⌠youâre welcome to cook whenever you want. This is your home too, after all.â
Thereâs a brief pause as he seems to mull something over, his eyes distant before snapping back to yours with a newfound determination. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.
âHow about thisâyou cook dinner tonight? Iâll tell the chef to take the night off.â
You blink, momentarily taken aback by the offer.
âYouâd really do that?â
"Why not?" he says with a shrug. "This is your home now, for the next year at least. Besides, itâll be nice to see you in your element, and Iâm curious to taste your cooking."
A spark of excitement flickers within you at the idea, the thought of returning to something familiar and comforting lifting your spirits.
âAlright then,â you agree, a playful challenge in your tone. âBut donât complain if it doesnât meet your gourmet standards.â
âIâm sure it will be perfect,â he responds, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that sends a ripple of anticipation through you.
He leans in closer, his elbow resting on the table as he tilts his head, his intense gaze locking onto yours. The proximity makes your heart skip a beat, the air between you charged with an unspoken connection.
âIâm looking forward to it,â he adds, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.
You hold his gaze, trying to maintain your composure, though you can feel a flutter in your chest.
âJust promise me you wonât hover in the kitchen,â you quip, lifting an eyebrow as you lean back slightly, creating a bit of space to steady your racing heart.
Satoruâs grin only widens, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes as he mirrors your movement, leaning back as well.
âNo promises. I might want to learn a thing or two."
You cross your arms, challenging him with a smirk and a pointed look.
âYou? Help out in the kitchen?â
The disbelief in your voice is clear, though a small smile tugs at your lips. The idea of him, the polished and ever-confident Satoru, navigating the chaos of a kitchen is almost too absurd to imagine.
He laughs, a rich sound that fills the room, raising his hands in mock surrender.
âHey, I can follow directions,â he protests, his grin broadening. âJust tell me what to do.â
You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head in mock exasperation.
âWeâll see about that,â you quip, though thereâs a part of you thatâs curiousâmaybe even hopefulâthat he might actually surprise you.
Before you can say more, Haru claps her hands together excitedly, her eyes sparkling with delight.
âMama cooking! Yay!â she exclaims, bouncing in her highchair.
You laugh softly, ruffling her hair with affection.
âYes, mamaâs cooking tonight,â you confirm, the warmth in your voice mirroring the smile on your face.
Satoru watches the exchange with a softening gaze, a rare moment of quiet sincerity passing over his features. But then, with a stretch that seems to shake off the sentiment, he stands up, rolling his shoulders back.
âIn the meantime,â he says, tone shifting back to business, âwe should probably get ready to head to the office. Thereâs a lot we need to cover.â
ę¨ď¸
As the car pulls up to the grand entrance of Gojo Corporation, you take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
It feels as though an eternity has passed since you last walked through those imposing doors, yet as you gaze up at the sleek, formidable building, a wave of familiarity washes over you, making it seem as if nothing has changed.
The towering glass structure looms above, its mirrored surface catching the early morning sun and casting a dazzling array of shimmering light that dances across the pavement. The reflections create an almost ethereal glow around the building.
As the sleek glass doors of Gojo Corporation glide open with a quiet whoosh, you and Satoru step through together, hand in hand.
The lobby unfolds before you, just as you rememberedâspacious, modern, and a testament to impeccable design.
Polished marble floors stretch out beneath your feet, gleaming like a mirror under the bright, strategically placed lights. The air is filled with a soft, steady hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional click of heels against the floor.
Familiar faces turn towards you, their polite smiles masking the flickers of curiosity and speculation that dance in their eyes. You can feel the weight of their gazes, each glance a blend of respect tinged with a subtle undercurrent of skepticism.
The whispers are almost tangible, a low murmur that follows you as you move further into the lobby, their eyes tracking your every step.
Your hand instinctively tightens around Satoruâs, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. Satoruâs grip is firm yet comforting, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand in a silent gesture of support.
He leads you further into the lobby, his posture exuding confidence and ease, as if heâs entirely unbothered by the attention.
Each of your footsteps against the polished floor brings a flood of memories to you. Thereâs a palpable sense of nostalgia, a bittersweet longing for the simplicity and familiarity of your old workspace.
But everything has changed, hasnât it?
Now, youâre his wifeâat least, thatâs the role you must play.
The weight of that title hangs heavy on your shoulders, transforming the once-familiar surroundings into a stage where every glance, every whisper carries a different meaning.
And Satoruâhe has changed too.
The carefree son of the CEO you once knew has evolved into a leader in his own right. The transformation is subtle yet profound, etched in the way he carries himself, the way he interacts with the staff, and the way he commands respect without demanding it.
You can see the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, a mantle he has taken up with a quiet determination.
As you approach the elevators, Satoruâs hand slips from yours, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he reaches out to press the button.
The elevator doors slide open with a quiet, mechanical whisper, revealing the sleek, mirrored interior. You both step inside, the soft hum of the elevator filling the space with a steady, soothing rhythm.
Satoru glances at you, his eyes catching the soft light reflecting off the polished walls. Thereâs a small, reassuring smile on his lips, one that carries a hint of warmth and something deeperâperhaps a silent promise that everything will be alright.
âSo,â he begins, his voice casual, though you can sense the underlying focus in his tone, âtoday we have a meeting regarding a potential corporate merger with Mei-Mei's company.â
âMei-Mei⌠I remember her,â you say, your brow furrowing slightly as you search your memory. âIsn't she from that high-end tech company?â
Satoru nods and leans casually against the elevator wall, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly working.
âThatâs right,â he confirms, his voice steady and assured. âSheâs quite influential in her field, a key player in the tech industry. This merger could be a significant step for us, opening doors to new technologies and markets.â
As his words sink in, you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You swallow hard, trying to push down the unease thatâs bubbling up inside you.
âAlright. Whatâs our approach for the meeting?â
Satoruâs eyes meet yours, his gaze steady and reassuring. Thereâs a quiet confidence in his expression, a belief in your abilities that helps to steady your nerves.
âWeâll present our strengths,â he explains. âWeâll show them what we can bring to the table, the value we offer. Your insights will be invaluable, so donât hesitate to speak up. Just be yourself. Thatâs more than enough.â
You nod, drawing in a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest.
âGot it,â you reply, your voice more resolute now, bolstered by his confidence in you.
The elevator dings softly, and the doors glide open to reveal the executive floor, a space imbued with quiet power and understated elegance.
Satoru walks ahead, his stride confident and purposeful, and you follow closely, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.
As you enter the conference room, your eyes immediately land on Mei-Mei, already seated at the expansive table. Sheâs impeccably dressed, exuding an air of effortless elegance and control.
The moment she spots Satoru, her eyes light up with a warmth that feels just a bit too personal. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips as she rises gracefully from her chair.
âSatoru, darling,â she purrs, her voice smooth and honeyed as she glides toward him with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants. âItâs been far too long.â
Seeing her in person brings a rush of memories, sharp and unbiddenâthe sound of her voice, the way she says his name...
Mei-Mei isnât just any business associateâ sheâs the woman who was once poised to step into the very role you now occupy.
Satoruâs father had been persistent he consider her for marriage, a match that had been pushed on him relentlessly.
The realization sharpens your senses, and as Mei-Mei continues to hold Satoruâs gaze with practiced ease, you steel yourself, determined not to let old rivalries or lingering doubts shake your confidence.
Satoru smiles politely, his expression composed and unreadable as he extends a hand to her.
âMei-Mei,â he greets her, his tone smooth and diplomatic. âAlways a pleasure.â
Mei-Meiâs eyes flicker with satisfaction as she accepts his hand, her touch light and fleeting, like a whisper of silk.
Her gaze shifts to you as she releases his hand, a spark of curiosity mingling with something more calculated behind her eyes.
âAnd who might this be?â she inquires, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as if sheâs already assessing your worth.
âThis is my wife, y/nâ Satoru says smoothly, his hand finding yours. âSheâll be joining us for the meeting.â
Mei-Meiâs smile curves at the edges, but it doesnât quite reach her eyes, which narrow slightly as she studies you more closely.
âOf course,â she says, her tone dripping with courtesy that feels just a shade too polished. âItâs lovely to meet you.â
She pauses, her gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge.
âI must say, I havenât heard of you before. What family do you come from?â
A twinge of discomfort ripples through you, a reminder of the stark difference in backgrounds. You swallow slightly, trying to keep your voice steady.
âI... I donât come from a well-known family,â you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should. âIâve worked with Satoru at Gojo Corporation for the past year.â
Mei-Meiâs smile shifts, the corners of her lips lifting just a fraction, but thereâs a condescending glint in her eyes now.
âOh, I see,â she replies, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive amusement. âHow quaint.â
You force a smile, though it feels tight on your lips, refusing to let her patronizing attitude get under your skin.
As you move to take your seat at the table, you watch as she leans in closer to Satoru, her fingers grazing his arm in a gesture that seems almost too casual, too familiar.
âI must say, Satoru,â Mei-Mei purrs, her voice smooth and saccharine, like honey with a hint of venom, âyouâve been doing an impressive job with the company. Your father would be proud.â
Satoru nods, keeping his tone professional.
âThank you, Mei-Mei. Weâve made some significant strides, and Iâm optimistic about the potential this merger holds for both of our companies.â
âOf course, Satoru. Iâm sure we can work out something that benefits both parties. After all,â she adds, her gaze lingering on him with a knowing smile, âweâve always made a great team, havenât we?â
Determined to assert your own presence, you clear your throat softly and lean forward, your gaze steady and unyielding.
âIâm looking forward to seeing how our strengths can complement each other,â you interject smoothly. âThereâs a lot we can achieve together.â
Mei-Meiâs eyes flicker to you. She offers a tight smile, the warmth in her expression barely masking the sharpness beneath.
âIndeed,â she concedes, her tone now laced with a hint of challenge. âLetâs make this a success, shall we?â
The meeting begins, and you do your best to focus on the discussion, but Mei-Meiâs constant flirtation with Satoru gnaws at your nerves like a persistent thorn.
You can feel the tension building within you, your hands clenched tightly in your lap as you force yourself to remain composed, every muscle in your body taut with restraint.
Mei-Mei finds every opportunity to brush her fingers against Satoruâs arm, her touch lingering just a second too long. Her laughter rings out, a bit too loud and a touch too sweet, echoing off the walls of the conference room.
Every compliment she directs at Satoru is overly effusive, dripping with a familiarity that sets your teeth on edge.
Satoru, to his credit, remains the picture of professionalism.
His responses are polite but distant, a carefully maintained detachment that you admire even as it does little to quell the irritation bubbling inside you. Heâs skilled at sidestepping her advances with an almost practiced ease, deflecting her attempts to draw him into her web of flirtation.
But despite his composed demeanor, each of Mei-Meiâs calculated gestures feels like a testâa deliberate provocation meant to unsettle you, to remind you of the history that lingers between them.
The subtle, unspoken challenge in her eyes whenever she glances your way only fuels the fire simmering within you.
âSo, Satoru,â Mei-Mei says, leaning closer to him, âabout the merger terms, I believe we should consider revising the profit-sharing ratio. It would be beneficial for both parties.â
Her tone is persuasive, almost coaxing, as she tilts her head slightly, letting her hair fall in a way that draws attention to the graceful curve of her neck.
But before Satoru can respond, you lean forward, your voice calm yet firm, cutting through the tension like a blade.
âActually, if you look at the numbers, the current ratio is fair and balanced, ensuring both companies benefit equally from this partnership.â
For a split second, annoyance flashes in Mei-Meiâs eyes, a subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth betraying her irritation. But she quickly masks it with a polished smile, her expression smoothing over as if the moment of discord never happened.
âI see,â she replies, her voice still honeyed but with a slight edge. âWell, perhaps we can discuss this further in detail later.â
Satoru, ever the diplomat, nods in agreement, his tone steady and measured.
âWe can certainly revisit that point,â he says, his gaze shifting between you and Mei-Mei, acknowledging both perspectives. âBut for now, letâs proceed with the agenda.â
As the conversation continues, Mei-Meiâs relentless flirtations with Satoru are becoming more and more unbearable.
Each coy glance she throws Satoruâs way chips away at your composure, and you find it harder and harder to maintain the calm facade youâve been desperately clinging to.
Just when you think you canât endure it any longer, Satoru glances at his watch and suggests,
âLetâs take a short break. Weâll reconvene in fifteen minutes.â
The words are like a lifeline tossed to a drowning person.
âIâll be back in a bit,â you mutter, barely managing to keep the tremor out of your voice as you slip out of the room.
The moment youâre out of sight, you quicken your pace, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you make a beeline for the supply room. The small, confined space offers a momentary refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the conference room.
As you close the door behind you, the faint scent of paper and office supplies envelops you, oddly comforting in its familiarity, like a reminder of simpler times.
You start to rummage through the supplies, your hands moving automatically as you try to distract yourself from the image of Mei-Meiâs hands brushing against Satoruâs arm, her laughter echoing in your ears.
The memory plays on a loop in your mind, fueling the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface.
You grab a few itemsâa stack of sticky notes, a box of paperclipsâand begin organizing them on the shelf, your movements precise, almost mechanical.
Moments later, the door creaks open, and you look up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, a nostalgic smile on his face.
âDoesnât look like youâre taking much of a break.â
âI guess old habits die hard,â your voice clipped, betraying the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
âSeeing you in here brings back memories,â he continues, stepping further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the shelves as if he, too, is remembering the countless times youâd both found yourselves in this very spot, buried in work and conversation.
The familiarity of it should be comforting, but today, it only amplifies the growing disarray you feel inside. You huff, shaking your head in exasperation.
âSince Iâve been gone, itâs obvious someone isnât doing the supply order right,â you gesture sharply to the cluttered shelves. âEverythingâs out of place.â
He chuckles softly, closing the distance between you with a few steps.
âYou always were meticulous about these things. Guess no one can do it quite like you.â
Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turn back to the shelves.
âThis whole day has been a mess,â you mutter, more to yourself than to him, the words escaping in a rush of pent-up emotion.
Each item you straighten feels like an attempt to impose order on something far more chaotic than these shelvesâa futile effort to regain control in a situation that seems increasingly out of your grasp.
Satoru raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against a shelf, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive.
âReally? I thought things were going well,â he remarks, a hint of confusion in his voice.
You turn to face him, your frustration bubbling over, no longer containable.
âWell, theyâre not,â you snap, the sharpness in your voice surprising even yourself. âThis merger? Itâs a terrible idea. Itâs obvious Mei-Mei is just trying to squeeze as much revenue out of this deal as possible, and youâre letting her.â
Satoruâs teasing expression falters, replaced by one of seriousness. He uncrosses his arms, his posture shifting as he takes a step closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that wasnât there before.
âWhat makes you say that?â
You cross your arms defensively, glaring at him.
âThe terms sheâs proposing are ridiculous. Sheâs pushing for more than her company deserves.â
âWhy didnât you say something during the meeting?â he counters, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.
You throw your hands up in exasperation, your emotions spilling over.
âHow could I?â you quip, the words escaping in a rush. âMei-Mei was too busy batting her eyelashes and finding any excuse to touch you. Every time I tried to speak, sheâd cut me off or distract you with some flirtatious nonsense.â
Satoruâs eyebrow arches, and for a moment, a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
âAre you jealous?â
Your cheeks flush involuntarily, and you turn back to the shelves, grabbing a stack of papers and slamming them down with more force than necessary.
âOf course not,â you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. âItâs just... unprofessional.â
He doesnât back down, the smirk still playing on his lips as he steps closer, closing the distance between you until heâs right in front of you.
âYouâre cute when youâre jealous, you know that?â he murmurs, his tone playful, almost affectionate.
Thatâs the last straw.
Your patience, already worn thin, finally snaps.
âYou know what? It's hard enough trying to fit into this world without someone like her treating me like I donât belong!â
You shove the papers aside, the sound of them scattering across the table punctuating your words, and start to walk past him, needing to escape the confined space.
Satoruâs smirk vanishes as he realizes the depth of your frustration. He grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and pulls you back to him. His grip is firm but gentle, his eyes searching yours for understanding.
âHey,â he says softly, his voice sincere. âI didnât realize how much this was bothering you.â
You look up at him, your vision blurring slightly as tears threaten to spill over. The vulnerability youâve been trying to hold back finally breaks through, and the words tumble out before you can stop them.
âItâs just... itâs not easy being here, Satoru,â you confess, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. âI feel out of place, like I donât belong and Iâm constantly being judged. Itâs like everyoneâs waiting for me to fail.â
He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as he studies your face, reading the depth of your distress.
âThis isnât just about Mei-Mei, is it?â he asks gently. âDoes this have anything to do with that guy at the gala last night? The one that was overly familiar with you at the bar?â
You blink in surprise, taken aback by his perceptiveness.
âWhat? No, this is different,â you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.
âIs it?â he presses gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your back of your hand. âBecause I saw how he looked at you. And how uncomfortable you seemed.â
You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling to the surface.
âNaoya was just being his usual self, trying to provoke me,â you say dismissively.
âNaoya, huh?â Satoruâs voice hardens slightly, his expression darkening at the mention of the name. âHe didnât just try to provoke you. He was trying to undermine you in front of everyone. Who is that guy to you?â
The intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you can see that Satoru isnât just curiousâheâs genuinely concerned, and more than a little angry.
The protective edge in his voice tells you that heâs not going to let this go easily, and you realize that heâs picking up on more than youâd like to admit.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you weigh your words carefully.
âHeâs... heâs Haruâs father,â you finally admit, the words leaving your lips in a hesitant whisper.
Satoruâs eyes widen in shock, the sudden revelation hitting him like a physical blow.
âWhat? Haruâs father? Why didnât you tell me?â Thereâs a sharpness in his tone now, not out of anger, but out of the raw emotion of being blindsided by something so significant.
You drop your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of your past suddenly feeling like too much to bear.
âI didnât want to burden you with my past,â you say quietly, your voice thick with regret.
For a moment, thereâs silence, thick and heavy between you, and you can feel the tension radiating off him.
But then, gently, he lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch is tender, his expression softening as he looks into your eyes, searching for the truth in them.
âYouâre not a burden,â he says firmly, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. âAnd Haru is part of your life. That means sheâs part of mine now too.â
You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you as you struggle to find the right response.
âSatoru, I... I just didnât know how to bring it up,â you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the vulnerability of the confession. âI didnât want to complicate things. Itâs just⌠I feel like Iâm constantly being tested, like I have to prove myself over and over again.â
The words spill out in a rush, the pent-up emotions youâve been holding back finally breaking free.
He sighs softly, his expression softening as he reaches out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
âYou donât have to explain yourself to me,â he says, his voice gentle, but thereâs an underlying seriousness in his tone. âBut we canât have any more secrets between us during this arrangement. If weâre going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other.â
The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth in his touchâit all combines to create a sense of safety, a reassurance that youâre not alone in this, even if this is just a charade, itâs the comfort you desperately need.
Tears well up in your eyes again, threatening to spill out as your emotions overwhelm you. You nod, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady.
âI understand,â you whisper, âno more secrets.â
Without a word, Satoru pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.
He holds you close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.
âGood,â he murmurs, his voice soft but firm against your ear. âYou do belong, y/n. And Iâm not going to let anyoneâMei-Mei, Naoya, or anyone elseâmake you feel otherwise.â
As he speaks, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you simply melt into his embrace, letting the warmth and security he provides wash over you.
Your heart races as his hand slowly moves up, fingers gently threading through your hair, his touch so tender it makes your breath hitch. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath warm against your ear, grounding you in this shared moment of vulnerability.
But then, you pull back slightly, looking up at him, and itâs only then that you truly realize how close you are.
Your faces are mere inches apart, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, drawing your attention to the way his eyes flicker down to your lips.
Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as you feel the magnetic pull between you, the tension thick in the air.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.
Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation building as his lips draw nearer.
But just before they brush against yours, a sliver of doubt crosses your mindâthe reality of the situation, reminding you of where you are, and what you are to each other.
You pull back slightly, your voice barely a whisper.
âWe should probably head back to the meeting.â
Though you say the words, your voice lacks conviction, betraying your true feelings.
Satoruâs eyes search yours for a moment longer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he takes a deep breath, the sound filled with a mix of reluctance and understanding.
He slowly pulls back, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
âYeah, we should,â he agrees softly, though his tone carries the weight of unspoken emotions.
His hand slips from your cheek, the absence of his touch leaving you feeling a bit colder.
âLetâs get back to it.â
ę¨ď¸
As you re-enter the conference room, Mei-Mei is already seated, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the table.
She looks up as you and Satoru take your seats, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips.
âAh, there you are,â she says, her tone dripping with faux sweetness, the honeyed edge barely masking the underlying condescension. âShall we continue?â
Satoru clears his throat, his expression carefully neutral as he regains his composure. Thereâs a subtle shift in his demeanor, a steely resolve that wasnât there before.
âRight, letâs continue where we left off.â
Mei-Meiâs smile deepens, saccharine sweet and just as poisonous, as she resumes her position with an air of unshakable confidence.
She leans forward slightly, her fingers stilling as she clasps her hands together, a picture of poised professionalism.
âOf course,â she purrs. âNow, as I was saying, the merger terms weâre proposing are quite favorable, especially considering the current market conditions. Iâm confident that with a little cooperation, we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement. Perhaps we can revisit the profit-sharing ratio?â
Her words are delivered with the precision of someone whoâs used to getting her way, but you can feel the subtle shift in her gaze as it flickers toward you, her eyes cold and calculating.
You glance at Satoru, seeking the silent reassurance that only he can offer in this moment.
He meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod, the unspoken signal youâve been waiting for. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline surging as you realize that this is your moment.
Itâs now or never.
Summoning every ounce of courage within you, you rise from your seat, your voice steady and clear as it cuts through the tension in the room.
âActually, weâve reconsidered,â you begin, each word carefully measured. âAfter reviewing the terms, weâve decided that moving forward with this merger is not in the best interest of Gojo Corporation.â
Mei-Meiâs eyes widen in surprise, her carefully crafted facade slipping for just a fraction of a second. The shock in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it, the brief crack in her confidence before she quickly regains her composure.
âExcuse me?â she demands, her voice sharp with incredulity. âAre you saying youâre rejecting our proposal?â
You meet her gaze unflinchingly, standing firm with a resolve that surprises even you.
âYes, thatâs exactly what Iâm saying,â you reply, your voice steady and unyielding. âThe terms youâre proposing are not equitable, and itâs clear that your company stands to gain disproportionately from this deal. Weâre not interested in a partnership that doesnât offer balanced benefits.â
Mei-Meiâs smile tightens, the corners of her lips pulling into a strained curve as she processes your words. Her composure is slipping, the veneer of control cracking as she realizes sheâs losing her grip on the situation.
Desperation flickers in her eyes as she glances toward Satoru, clearly hoping to find an ally in him.
âSatoru,â her tone laced with forced sweetness, âsurely we can discuss this furtherââ
âI trust my wifeâs judgment completely,â Satoru leans back in his chair with a calm confidence, a proud smile playing on his lips as he watches you take control of the situation. âIf she says the deal isnât right for us, then we wonât proceed.â
The finality in his tone leaves no room for negotiation and the impact of his words is immediate.
Mei-Meiâs expression falters, the last traces of her confident facade slipping away as frustration and disbelief flicker in her eyes. She forces a tight smile, nodding curtly, her eyes hardening.
âI see. Well, itâs your loss. Our offer was quite generous.â
You hold her gaze, unflinching.
âWeâll find another opportunity that aligns better with our goals. Thank you for your time.â
Mei-Meiâs eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing more. Instead, she gathers her things with an icy precision, each movement deliberate as she rises from her seat.
The tension in the room is palpable as she turns on her heel and strides toward the door, her demeanor frosty, the sting of defeat evident in her rigid posture. The door closes behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the suddenly quiet room.
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, the tension slowly melting away as a surge of relief and empowerment floods through you.
The adrenaline rush of standing your ground leaves you feeling both exhilarated and slightly shaky, but thereâs also a newfound confidence simmering beneath the surfaceâa realization that youâre more than capable of handling whatever comes your way.
Satoru turns to you, his smile widening with pride as he meets your gaze.
âYou handled that perfectly,â the warmth in his voice is like a reassuring embrace.
You return his smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.
âThanks. I guess I just needed to find my voice.â
And find it you did.
ę¨ď¸
As the sun begins to set, it casts a warm, golden glow through the expansive windows of the Gojo residence kitchen.
The light dances across the sleek, modern space, highlighting the clean lines of stainless-steel appliances and the smooth, cool surface of marble countertops.
You stand at the kitchen island, surrounded by a colorful array of ingredientsâvibrant tomatoes, fragrant basil, and glistening cuts of meat, each carefully selected for the eveningâs meal.
Satoru walks in, rolling up his sleeves with a playful grin lighting up his face.
âSo, Chef,â he says with a teasing lilt in his voice, leaning casually against the counter as he takes in the scene before him. His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, âWhatâs on the menu tonight?â
You glance up from the cutting board, catching his gaze.
Thereâs a lightness in his demeanor, a boyish enthusiasm that makes you smile in return. The way he looks at youâlike youâre the most interesting part of his dayâsends a flutter of warmth through your chest.
âNothing fancy. Just some homemade pasta and a simple salad. I hope thatâs okay with you, Mr. Gourmet.â
âSounds perfect,â he grins, moving to your side, ready to help. âWhat can I do?â
You hand him a cutting board and a knife, pointing to a colorful pile of vegetables waiting to be prepped.
âYou can start by chopping these for the salad.â
He takes the knife, looking at it a bit awkwardly and glances at you with a sheepish grin.
âAlright, letâs see if I remember how to do this without losing a finger.â
You canât help but watch with amusement as he makes a few tentative cuts, each slice uneven and clumsy. Itâs clear heâs out of practiceâor perhaps he never had much to begin with.
The sight of him, usually so confident, struggling with something so simple brings a smile to your face.
âHere, let me show you,â you say, moving to stand beside him.
Sliding closer, you place your hand over his on the knife handle, your touch gentle yet firm.
âYou want to keep your fingers tucked in like this,â you instruct, demonstrating with your own hand, ensuring his fingers are safely out of the knifeâs path. âAnd use a rocking motion with the knife, letting the blade do the work.â
You move his hand with yours, the rhythm of the knife creating a soothing pattern.
Satoru watches you intently, the proximity making your heart race. The warmth of his hand beneath yours sends a shiver up your spine.
As you continue to guide him, your hands move together in sync, and you canât help but notice the way his focus shifts from the vegetables to you, his blue eyes flickering with something deeper than just concentration.
âGot it,â he murmurs softly.
You continue to guide his hand, feeling the rhythm of the chopping become smoother.
âLike this?â
âExactly,â you reply, meeting his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. âSee? Itâs not so hard once you get the hang of it.â
He chuckles, and his eyes remain locked on yours, a playful spark mingling with the more serious undercurrent in his expression.
âNot hard at all, especially with such a good teacher.â
The moment lingers, the air between you charged with a newfound intimacy. Reluctantly, you step back, breaking the spell as you release your hold on the knife.
âI think youâve got it from here.â
Satoru nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he returns to the vegetables with a newfound determination.
There is a new awareness in the way he handles the knife, as if heâs carrying forward the memory of your touch.
The two of you work in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of garlic in the pan.
It feels oddly domestic, a far cry from the high-stakes world of corporate mergers and charity galas.
The simplicity of this moment, shared in the soft light of the kitchen, is a refreshing contrast to the complexities of your usual lives.
âYou know, I never imagined Iâd be doing something like this,â Satoru admits after a while, his voice breaking the silence. âBut Iâm glad I am.â
You glance over at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes, and you canât help but smile.
âCooking is kind of therapeutic for me, you know,â you say, your voice thoughtful as you turn your attention back to the task at hand. âIt helps me clear my mind, and itâs something I can control, unlike so many other things in life.â
Satoru watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he absorbs your words. Thereâs a quiet admiration in his gaze, one that you can feel even without looking at him.
âYou know, I gotta say, youâre really good at this.â
âHm? Cooking?â you ask, glancing up at him with a curious tilt of your head.
âNo,â his voice softens. âBalancing everything. Being a mother, dealing with me, and now standing up in that meeting. Youâre incredible.â
His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.
Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove.
For a moment, youâre at a loss for words, the gravity of his praise settling in. You turn your attention back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a renewed focus, using the task to steady yourself.
âThanks, Satoru,â you finally manage. âThat means a lot.â
As you continue to cook, the tension of the day begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that settles over you like a warm blanket.
The kitchen fills with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of simmering tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic, the scents mingling together to create an atmosphere that feels both comforting and intimate.
Satoru moves beside you with surprising grace, each motion purposeful and smooth, belying his earlier claims of inexperience.
You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the toned muscles of his forearms as he works.
Thereâs a quiet concentration in his expression, a focus that draws you in, making it impossible not to notice the way heâs completely absorbed in the task at hand.
âLooks like youâre a natural.â
Your words earn you a grin, his usual playfulness shining through.
âDonât jinx it,â he warns, making a particularly precise cut with the knife, his movements confident and sure.
You laugh, the sound light and carefree as you turn back to the sauce simmering on the stove.
âI think itâs time to taste this,â you say, stirring the rich, fragrant mixture with a wooden spoon. âWant to give it a try?â
Satoru nods, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing as he joins you at the stove.
You scoop a bit of the sauce onto a spoon, blowing on it gently to cool it down before lifting it to your lips for a taste. The rich, tangy flavors explode on your tongue, the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity.
âMmm, I think itâs almost perfect,â you murmur, savoring the taste, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you let the flavors linger.
âAlmost?â he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of challenge.
You smile, opening your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, the intensity in his blue eyes sending a shiver down your spine.
âHere, taste,â you say, holding the spoon up to his lips, your hand steady.
He leans in, his movements slow and deliberate, every inch closer making your heart beat a little faster. His eyes remain locked on yours with an unspoken intensity, and as his lips close around the spoon, you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.
Thereâs a brief pause as he savors the sauce, his expression thoughtful.
âWow, thatâs delicious,â his voice low and sincere.
Just as youâre about to smile in response, you feel a light touch on your lip. Before you can react, Satoru reaches out, his thumb gently swiping at the corner of your mouth where a bit of sauce had lingered.
The unexpected contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat.
Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his own lips, tasting the sauce with a playful smirk that leaves you momentarily speechless.
âNow thatâs perfect.â
The simple gesture, so intimate and unassuming, leaves you flustered, warmth spreading through your cheeks.
The kitchen seemed to grow smaller and the air thicker.
You quickly turn your attention back to stirring the pasta, desperately trying to steady your racing heart and regain your composure as you move the spoon in slow, deliberate circles.
âYou always know how to make things interesting,â you manage to say, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves that Satoru has stirred up.
He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through the small space between you, and you feel him step closer until his chest is nearly brushing against your back.
The warmth of his presence wraps around you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and something moreâsomething electric.
âI could say the same about you,â his breath warm against your ear.
You turn slightly, your breath catching as you realize just how close he is. His blue eyes, so focused and intense, lock onto yours, and the world seems to narrow to just the two of you.
Satoru leans in, his voice dropping to a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.
âYou have a way of making everything more exciting, y/n.â
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry as your eyes flicker to his lips and then back to his eyes.
The pull between you is magnetic, undeniable, and you struggle to maintain your composure.
âMaybe itâs just because youâre so easily entertained,â you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to diffuse the intensity of the moment with a hint of playfulness.
He grins, the expression sending your heart into a wild flutter.
Slowly, his hand moves to rest on the counter beside you, effectively trapping you in place. The gesture is subtle yet commanding, his body language exuding a quiet confidence that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and breathless.
âOr maybe itâs because youâre just that captivating,â he counters, his voice a hushed rumble that sends another wave of warmth through you.
âOkaaay, Mr. Smooth Talker,â you manage to say, your voice tinged with nervous laughter as you attempt to regain some semblance of control. âHow about you help me with the garlic bread?â
The suggestion is your lifeline, a way to shift the focus and calm your racing heart before youâre completely lost in the moment.
Satoruâs grin widens, clearly enjoying your flustered state.
âWhatever you need, Chef,â he replies, his tone lightening as he pushes away from the counter and moves to the other side of the kitchen.
The distance between you offers a brief reprieve, allowing you to steady your breathing and refocus on the task at hand.
Get it togetherâthis isnât real.
ę¨ď¸
The table is set with a simple elegance that mirrors the meal youâve preparedâfresh pasta topped with a rich, fragrant tomato sauce, golden garlic bread still warm from the oven, and a crisp, colorful salad that adds a splash of vibrancy to the setting.
Haru, already seated with her eyes wide in anticipation, swings her little legs under the table, her excitement palpable.
âMama, pasta!â she exclaims, her voice filled with childlike wonder.
Her gaze flickers from the steaming plates to the basket of garlic bread, her small hands already reaching for a slice as if she can hardly wait another moment.
Satoru chuckles as he takes his seat beside her, his smile widening at the sight of her enthusiasm.
âPatience, Haru,â he teases, ruffling her hair affectionately. âLetâs wait for your mama to sit down.â
You join them at the table, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the scene.
Carefully, you begin to serve the plates, starting with Haru. You scoop a generous portion of pasta onto her plate, the rich tomato sauce clinging perfectly to the tender strands.
âThere you go, sweetie,â you say with a smile, placing the plate in front of her. âBut remember, eat slowly, okay? We have all the time in the world.â
Haru nods eagerly, though you can tell sheâs barely restraining herself. Her little fingers curl around her fork, her eyes never leaving the plate as she prepares to dive in.
Next, you turn to Satoru, serving him a plate with equal care.
The pasta glistens under the soft light, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting up as you set it before him.
As you place the plate down, his eyes meet yours, and in that brief moment, thereâs a silent exchangeâone of gratitude, warmth, and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.
âThank you,â he murmurs.
You nod in response, your heart warming at the connection between you, simple yet profound.
Meanwhile, Haruâs eyes widen even further as she finally takes her first bite.
The flavors burst in her mouth, her little face lighting up with pure delight. She chews enthusiastically, her expression one of sheer happiness, and you canât help but smile at her reaction.
âYummy!â she declares, her mouth full as she grins up at you.
Her words are filled with such genuine enthusiasm and innocence that it makes your heart swell with pride.
Satoru watches Haru with a fond smile before he too takes a bite of the meal youâve lovingly prepared.
His expression shifts almost immediately to one of pleasant surprise, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors settle on his palate. He chews thoughtfully, savoring the blend of fresh ingredients and the care that went into the preparation.
âSheâs right. This is amazing, you really outdid yourself.â
A smile spreads across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at their praise.
Itâs a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but the way theyâre enjoying it makes it feel like the most special dinner in the world.
âIâm glad you both like it. Itâs nice to be able to cook for you.â
As you begin to eat, the room fills with the sounds of contentmentâHaruâs happy chatter as she dives into her meal, Satoruâs occasional hum of approval as he tastes each dish, and the gentle clinking of cutlery against plates.
The meal continues and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing naturally.
Haru tells stories about her day, her voice animated as she shares every little detail. Satoru listens attentively, his focus on her unwavering, his smile growing with each of her excited exclamations.
At one point, Haru insists on feeding Satoru a bite of her pasta, her giggles bubbling up like a stream as she carefully maneuvers the fork towards his mouth.
Satoru, ever the playful one, exaggerates the motion, opening his mouth wide and making a show of how delicious the bite is. He rolls his eyes in mock ecstasy, his exaggerated reaction sending Haru into a fit of laughter that rings out like the purest music.
The way Satoru looks at Haru, with such genuine affection and warmth, causes a tightness in your chestâa beautiful, almost overwhelming sensation that swells within you.
His eyes are soft, his smile unguarded, and in that moment, you can see just how much he cherishes these little interactions with her.
Itâs a sight that tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how deeply heâs become entwined in both your lives.
Taking in this moment, you feel a deep sense of contentment, a quiet happiness that fills your heart to the brim.
This scene, so ordinary yet so special, feels like a moment you want to hold onto forever.
It is a culmination of everything youâve been striving forâa sense of belonging, of family, of home.
Ah, but this isnât realâjust a charade.
Just as this warmth settles in your heart, a pang of bittersweetness follows.
Yet, despite knowing the truth, you canât help but wish, just for a moment, that it could be.
Haru, now tired from all the excitement, leans against Satoru, her small head resting on his arm. Her eyelids grow heavy, her earlier energy now spent, and she begins to drift off, her breaths becoming slow and rhythmic.
Satoru glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.
âYou know,â he begins, his voice low and sincere, âI could get used to this. We should cook more often. Sharing meals like this... itâs nice.â
Your breath catches in your throat, and for a second, the line between reality and pretense blurs. You nod, but your mind races.
This is just a charade⌠right?
Yet, as you look into Satoruâs eyes, the warmth there makes you question everything. Maybe, just maybe, thereâs a part of him that feels the same way you doâa longing for this to be more than just an act.
ę¨ď¸
The late afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains of the Gojo mansion, casting a warm golden grown across the living room.
You sit on the couch as Haru plays on the floor, completely absorbed in her toys, her little hands guiding her dolls through an imagined world of adventure and make-believe.
Her soft giggles and murmured conversations with her toys bring a smile to your face, filling the room with a sense of peace and contentment.
Satoru had business to attend to, and before leaving, he made sure you had the rest of the day to spend with Haru.
Itâs a rare and treasured opportunity, these quiet hours spent together, free from the demands of the outside world.
As you watch Haru, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for this timeâthis simple, unhurried togetherness that feels so rare in your often chaotic lives.
But then, the doorbell rings, cutting through the tranquility like a sharp knife.
You glance toward the door, your heart giving a slight, uneasy flutter.
Pushing aside the apprehension creeping into your chest, you rise from the couch, taking a steadying breath as you approach the door.
When you open it, youâre met with the sight of a stern-looking man in a crisp suit, his expression as unyielding as his posture.
Thereâs something about his demeanor that instantly puts you on edge. Heâs holding an envelope in one hand, his grip firm, almost as if the paper holds some kind of weight beyond its physical presence.
âMrs. Gojo?â he asks, his voice flat, businesslike.
The formal tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod cautiously, a sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.
âYes, thatâs me,â you reply, your voice a little more tentative than youâd like.
Without another word, he thrusts the envelope into your hands, his gaze unwavering as he says,
âYouâve been served.â
The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. Your fingers tighten around the envelope as confusion and alarm spike within you.
âServed? For what?â you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety thatâs quickly rising.
The manâs expression remains unchanged, impassive.
âCustody of Haru. Mr. Naoya Zenin is filing for full custody,â he states matter-of-factly, as if itâs just another routine task for him, another case on a long list.
The shock of his words hits you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.
For a moment, you stand there frozen, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, the envelope clutched tightly in your hand.
This canât be happening.
With trembling hands, you tear open the envelope, your eyes darting across the densely packed lines of legal jargon. Each word seems to blur into the next as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.
This is happening.
A cold wave of dread washes over you, settling deep in your bones as the reality of the situation begins to take hold.
Just a few feet away, Haru is still playing in the living room, her laughter and cheerful babble a stark contrast to the turmoil thatâs unraveling in your mind.
Sheâs completely oblivious to the storm thatâs brewing, her innocence a painful reminder of whatâs at stake.
As you stand there, frozen in place, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your daze.
You glance down at the screen, your stomach knotting as you see Naoyaâs name flash across it. With a sense of dread, you unlock the phone and read the message.
Naoya Zenin: There, hopefully I finally have your attention. I suggest giving me a call if you want to avoid this all.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, a toxic mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.
Your hands shake uncontrollably as you stare at the message, the smugness practically oozing from each word.
You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.
With shaky fingers, you dial Naoyaâs number. Each ring feels like an eternity, and when he finally answers, his voice is dripping with satisfaction.
âY/n, I was wondering when youâd call,â he purrs, his tone as smooth as ever, but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of smugness.
âWhat the hell is this, Naoya?â you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. âYouâre filing for full custody of Haru?â
Thereâs a pause, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he finally responds. He chuckles softly, the sound sending chills down your spine.
âI see you got my notice. Good. Itâs time we discussed Haruâs future.â
The casual tone in his voice, as if this is just another business deal, ignites a fire within you. But before you can respond, he continues, his voice turning colder.
âIâm sending you an address. Meet me here tomorrow. Oh, and y/n.â his voice drops, becoming even more sinister, âI strongly suggest you donât involve Satoruâunless you want this to become a nasty custody battle.â
His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that tightens around your chest like a vice.
You stand there, phone in hand, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on you.
The line goes dead.
strap in guys we are approaching some angst 𼺠oh if only reader knew how down bad satoru is for her 𼲠i actually really struggled with how i wanted this chapter to be structured, there are a lot of scenes i ended up writing that i opted to move to a later chapter because i just felt it was too rushed. the slow burn of this relationship is really important to me, so ultimately, i think it was for the best. would love to hear your thoughts! thanks for reading my fic đŤśđť â onto the next chapter ę¨
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#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jjk satoru#satoru gojo#satoru smut#gojo smut#jjk fic#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk smut#jjk fluff#satoru gojo smut#satoru angst#satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru fluff#enemies to lovers#fake marriage#motherhood and matrimony#mhm#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru x you
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Thinking about ghost!max teasing and edging tf out of reader (im talking vibrators, fingers, his mouth⌠the whole 9 yards) while she tries to get ready for a NYE party⌠he has her panting and crying for a release he will ONLY give her if she stays home⌠essentially he wants reader to ring in the new years with his cock burried deep in her pussy.
Anyways whore house hours while at work đââď¸đââď¸
-âď¸
â hi nonnie!! So glad to see you back in my inbox <3 whore house is open 24/7 đ¤ this is sooo ghost!max, but how dare you even think of leaving him alone on nye of all days? 18+ content below
The short black dress clung to your body like a second skin, paired with shimmering gold heels that sparkled in the soft glow of your vanity lights. New Yearâs Eve promised glamour, champagne, and laughter. You were almost readyâalmostâif only Max wasnât tormenting you.
The vibrator tucked into your panties buzzed mercilessly against your clit, its rhythm relentless yet carefully orchestrated to pull you back from the edge every time you got too close. A familiar cool draft curled around you, despite the lack of an open window, sending a chill down your spine.
âMax,â you hissed, gripping the vanityâs edge as your reflection blurred in the soft glow. âStop playing games.â
Nearby, the spirit box on your dresser crackled to life, faint static filling the room before his voice filtered through. âStop playing games?â The box repeated his words in fragmented bursts, mocking your plea as his shadowy presence sharpened behind you in the mirror. âWhy would I stop when youâre this perfect? A trembling, desperate little mess for me.â
You could barely see himâjust a faint, smoky outline, more suggestion than substance. Yet his touch was undeniable as cold fingers trailed down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Two fingers slid in your pussy, curling against that sensitive spot inside. You gasped, your knees buckling as his invisible hand held you steady, keeping you pressed against the vanity.
Your constant moans filled the room as he pumped his fingers inside you, his presence looming, the faint scent of gasoline and something slightly woodsy wrapping around you like a cocoon.
âYouâre not leaving tonight,â he murmured through the spirit box, the sound enough to make you shiver. âNot when you should be here, screaming my name into the new year.â
Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, only amplifying the torment of the vibrator on your clit causing slick arousal to pool in your panties. You were teetering on the brink, your pussy clenching desperately around his fingers, your moans growing louder as release hovered just within reach.
But just as you were about to reach your orgasm, his fingers stilled, his voice from the spirit box cutting through the haze. âNot yet.â
You whimpered, thighs trembling, and as he slid your panties down your legs, the buzz of the vibrator moved away with an almost mocking finality. âMax,â you groaned, but he only chuckled, the sound resonating around the room like a ripple of cold air.
Before you could protest further, he dropped to his knees, his outline barely visible in the faint glow of the vanity light. His mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue cold but relentless as it worked you over. The spirit box crackled again, his voice threading through the air in between the sounds of your desperate moans.
âStay home,â he whispered, interspersed with static. âLet me fuck you.â
His handsâmore firm and defined than his ghostly formâgripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue licked and sucked in a rhythm that had you sobbing. Your fingers scrambled on the vanity, searching for a way to ground yourself, your nails scraping against the polished surface as your knees threatened to give out.
âSay it,â he growled against your folds. The vibration of his voice hit your pussy yet the sound came from the spirit box, sending jolts of pleasure and slight confusion straight through you. âSay youâll stay.â
âIâI canât,â you stammered, your resolve crumbling with every flick of his tongue.
He pulled away just long enough to speak, and you could make out an outline of his form looking up at you from between your legs. âThen youâll be starting the new year with a punishment. You donât want that do you, schatje?â
When his mouth descended on your cunt again, it was too much. You broke, sobbing out your surrender. âFine! Iâll stay! Please, Max, Iâll stay!â
A satisfied moan echoed through the spirit box, and his shadowy form rose behind you, pressing you against the vanity as he guided you to bend over. You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed into you, stretching you to the hilt in one slow, deliberate thrust.
Soon, it was nearing midnight, and he had you exactly where he wantedâpliant, desperate, and utterly ruined. The once-neat dress youâd planned to wear to the party was crumpled somewhere on the floor, forgotten hours ago when heâd pushed you down onto the bed.
Your loud, almost pornographic moans blended with the rhythmic sounds of skin meeting skin, the slick slide of his cock driving into you while he had finally let you to cum over and over again.
âYouâre perfect,â he groaned, his faint outline shifting above you as he kissed down your neck. âSo fucking perfect when youâre like this. All mine.â
You whimpered as he thrust into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that devastating spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. The spirit box in the corner crackled again, faint words lost in static, a hauntingly intimate sound that only heightened your arousal.
When the chime of midnight echoed through the room, paired with fireworks happening outside your house, Max gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts quickening. âCum for me,â he commanded, his voice a growl of pure possession. âNow, schat. Scream my name.â
Your body obeyed, the orgasm ripping through you with high intensity. You screamed his name, your voice hoarse and raw as he continued to move inside you, drawing out every wave of pleasure.
As the last aftershocks left you trembling, Max leaned down, his lips brushing your ear in a ghostly kiss.
âHappy new year,â he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His presence lingered, a cold yet comforting press against your skin as you lay there, completely undone.
This year, you thought hazily, you wouldnât need a resolution. You already had everything you wanted right here.
want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and itâll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days
#ghost!max#diâs dirty drabbles#âď¸ anon#thef1diary fic#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen x you#max verstappen au#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fic#max verstappen drabble#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfiction#f1 smut#f1 x you#f1 drabble#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 au
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I PUT A SPELL ON YOU TOO.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)
Related chapter: I Put A Spell On You.
Synopsis: Having a common enemy, you and Hyunjin work together to secure your futures. With your witchcraft, the plan sets in motion, the boundaries between right and wrong blur, and secrets begin to unravel, leaving you and Hyunjin bound by more than just circumstance. (22,4k words)
Author's note: It's Friday the 13th, join the circle and enjoy this piece of magic âĄ
I PUT A SPELL ON YOU PLAYLIST đ§
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Neither the story, the characters nor the spells are real (but if it works, do tell me though!)
The first light of dawn filters through the blinds, painting faint golden streaks across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of burning sage, the smoke curling lazily upward before dissipating into the stillness of the room.Â
You stand barefoot before the altar, its surface a collection of well-worn spellbooks, crystals, and a single flickering candle. The morning ritual is second nature to you nowâa daily reminder of the power simmering beneath your skin, waiting to be unleashed.Â
With steady hands, you trace the sigil carved into the small bowl before you. The words come easily, slipping past your lips like a promise:Â
âWith fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.âÂ
The candle flame responds, leaping higher for a moment before settling back into its steady glow. The familiar hum of energy vibrates through your body, faint but undeniable. Itâs not enough yetâyour magic is still rebuilding, still growingâbut itâs there. A spark, waiting to ignite.Â
You inhale deeply, the air filling your lungs with a mix of hope and resolve. Every day brings you closer to reclaiming the strength you once had, closer to the moment when the world will finally recognize your worth.Â
Reaching for the almanac resting at the edge of your altar, you flip to the marked date. The book feels heavy in your hands, the weight of countless predictions and warnings etched into its pages. Your eyes skim the delicate handwriting, pausing on the entry for today:Â
"The winds shift in the favor of the wary, but beware those who wield false crowns. Their power is fleeting, but their reach is long."Â
A chill runs through you, the words sinking in like a stone in still water. False crowns. Your mind flickers to the new CEO, the unsettling man who now occupies the highest seat in the company. Youâve felt his shadow looming since the day he arrived, his presence like a storm cloud waiting to break.Â
You close the almanac with a soft thud, the foreboding message settling heavily in your chest. The city stirs outside your window, but in this quiet moment, it feels as though time stands still.Â
You glance at your reflection in the nearby mirror, studying the determination etched into your features. Youâve come so far, yet thereâs still so much to do.Â
Today is just another step forward, another piece of the puzzle. Whatever challenges lie ahead, youâll face them head-on. The world doesnât know it yet, but its days of underestimating you are numbered.Â
âToday the world bends, and all power is mine.âÂ
-
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and there he isâHyunjin. Perfectly dressed as always, his hair immaculate, his expression cool and distant. He steps in without a glance in your direction, his presence commanding the small space like a storm that doesnât need to rage to be felt. You step back to give him room, not that he notices. He presses the button for his floor, and the doors close, sealing you in together.Â
The silence is suffocating, a weight pressing down on your chest. Youâve grown used to thisâhis deliberate ignorance, the way he carries himself as though you donât exist. Itâs not new, but it doesnât hurt any less.Â
The memory of his smile, the warmth of his laughter, and the fleeting moments when he looked at you like you were the only person in the world flash through your mind. Itâs almost cruel, how vivid those memories are, knowing they mean nothing to him now. To Hyunjin, itâs as if none of it ever happenedâas if the love spell never existed, as if you never existed.Â
You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to let it show. After all, no one knows the truth but you. The weight of it is yours alone to carry. Every stolen glance, every pang of longing, every ounce of guiltâitâs all yours. You shift your gaze to the floor, pretending to study the polished tiles. You canât let yourself get lost in the what-ifs again.Â
When the elevator chimes for his floor, he steps out without so much as a glance in your direction. No words. Not even a polite nod. You let out a soft sigh once the doors close again, leaning back against the wall. Despite everythingâdespite his indifference, his coldness, the way he behaves as if youâre a strangerâyou canât bring yourself to feel anything but pride when you think about him.Â
Hyunjinâs name has been buzzing in the office lately. The whispers of his upcoming promotion are impossible to miss, and the thought of him moving up fills you with quiet satisfaction. He deserves it. Every bit of it. Heâs one of the hardest-working people youâve ever met, and no amount of his harshness toward you can erase that.
For all thatâs happenedâor hasnât happened, in his mindâyou wish him nothing but the best. Itâs a bittersweet truth, but one youâve come to accept. The elevator finally stops at your floor, and you straighten your shoulders, ready to face the day.
-
The elevator doors slide open, and Hyunjin steps out, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. As he moves through the hallway, his mind lingers on the ride he just shared with you.Â
He hadnât meant to notice, but he did. That look againâsad and distant, like you were carrying the weight of something invisible. Like you were carrying him.Â
Itâs not the first time heâs caught it, either. The way your eyes linger on him, quiet and heavy with something he canât name. It unsettles him, that expression. Almost as if heâs hurt you somehow.Â
He frowns, shaking the thought away as he reaches his office. Youâre just a coworker, someone he passes in the halls. Whatever story youâve written for yourself, whatever sadness you carryâit has nothing to do with him. It *canât.* Hyunjin sets his bag down on his desk and exhales slowly, trying to refocus. Thereâs too much on his plate today to be distracted by fleeting glances and unanswered questions. He sits, pulling his laptop open, and begins sorting through the mountain of emails waiting for him.Â
Barely an hour has passed when his desk phone rings.Â
âHyunjin, can you come to my office for a moment?â Mr. Campbellâs voice is clipped, leaving no room for interpretation.Â
âOf course, sir,â Hyunjin replies, already standing. He smooths his jacket, preparing himself for what he assumes is good news. After all, the whispers of his impending promotion have been growing louder by the day.Â
The walk to Mr. Campbellâs office feels longer than usual, but Hyunjin steadies his nerves. This is it, he thinks. Finally, recognition for all his hard work.Â
But when he steps into the office, Mr. Campbellâs expression isnât celebratory. If anything, itâs tight with discomfort.Â
âHave a seat,â Mr. Campbell says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. Hyunjin hesitates but complies.Â
âIâll get straight to the point,â Mr. Campbell begins, folding his hands together. âYouâve been an exceptional employee, Hyunjin. Your performance has been nothing short of stellar, and Iâve personally been advocating for your promotion.âÂ
Hyunjinâs heart begins to race, anticipation bubbling in his chest.Â
âHowever,â Mr. Campbell continues, his tone taking a sharp turn, âwith the new CEO stepping into the role, there have been⌠adjustments. Your promotion has been postponed.âÂ
The words hit like a punch to the gut. âPostponed?â Hyunjin echoes, his voice tight with disbelief.Â
âYes. The position you were being considered for has been filled by someone else, chosen directly by the CEO, Mr. Hargrave himself.âÂ
Hyunjin blinks, struggling to process the words. The work, the late nights, the endless hours of proving himselfâit was all for nothing?Â
âWith all due respect, sir,â Hyunjin says, his voice rising slightly, âthis is unfair. Iâve worked hard for that promotion. Iâve earned it.âÂ
âI donât disagree,â Mr. Campbell says, his tone apologetic but firm. âBut this decision is out of my hands. The CEO has made his choice.âÂ
Hyunjin clenches his fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. âSo, thatâs it? Years of dedication mean nothing?âÂ
âI understand your frustration,â Mr. Campbell replies. âBut I need you to remain professional about this. There will be other opportunities.âÂ
Hyunjin stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He doesnât trust himself to say anything more without letting his anger slip entirely.Â
âThank you for your time,â he says curtly, turning on his heel and leaving the office.Â
As he stalks back to his desk, the weight of the conversation settles heavily on his shoulders. The unfairness of it burns in his chest. How could this happen? How could they just take everything heâs worked for and hand it to someone else?Â
His jaw tightens as he sits back down, trying to focus, but the injustice keeps replaying in his mind. Heâs not just upsetâheâs furious.Â
And for the first time in a long time, Hyunjin feels something dangerous brewing beneath the surface.Â
-
The boardroom feels unusually tense this morning. The usual low buzz of pre-meeting chatter is muted, replaced by an air of nervous anticipation. Itâs your first meeting with Flint Hargrave, the new CEO, and even without the rumors, youâd know heâs not a man to be trifled with.Â
You take a seat at the long, polished table, your folder of documents in front of you. Flint hasnât arrived yet, but youâve already heard the whispersâheâs harsh, demanding, and utterly unyielding. A few employees exchange worried glances as they shuffle their papers, the tension palpable.Â
When the doors open, all conversation ceases. Flint strides into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention. Heâs tall and sharply dressed, his suit immaculate. His expression is unreadable, but his eyesâcold, piercing, and calculatingâscan the room like heâs sizing up prey.Â
You donât falter under his gaze. If heâs looking for weakness, he wonât find it here.Â
As the meeting begins, you wait for your turn, forcing yourself to focus. When it finally comes, you stand, walking to the head of the room where the projector is already set up. Taking a deep breath, you begin your presentation.Â
Your voice is steady as you explain your proposal, detailing the steps, objectives, and the benefits it would bring to both the company and its employees. You make eye contact with the board members and occasionally glance at Flint, gauging his reaction.Â
Unlike some higher-ups, Flint doesnât interrupt or appear distracted. He leans slightly forward, his hands folded on the table, giving you his full attention. His gaze is steady and sharp, making you feel like youâre under a microscope.Â
By the time you finish, you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe Flint isnât the tyrant everyone claims he is.Â
The room is silent for a moment before Flint speaks for the first time.Â
âThank you,â he begins, his tone professional but firm. âYour presentation was clear, and the proposal has merit.âÂ
You feel a small sense of relief.Â
âHowever,â Flint continues, his gaze locking onto yours, âI have a few adjustments Iâd like to make before I approve this.âÂ
He leans back slightly, his tone calm but carrying an edge of authority as he outlines his demands. The adjustments he proposes are subtle but significant, reshaping the very purpose of your proposal. They would disserve the employees, prioritizing cost-cutting and efficiency over fairness and well-being.Â
You clench your hands beneath the table, keeping your expression neutral. As he speaks, you realize this isnât just a misunderstandingâFlint knows exactly what heâs doing.Â
When he finishes, you respond as diplomatically as possible. âThank you for your input, Mr. Hargrave. However, I believe these adjustments might undermine the goals of the proposal, particularly in terms of employee satisfaction and long-term productivity.âÂ
Flint doesnât flinch and daringly holds your gaze. âI appreciate your perspective, but my priority is ensuring that the company operates at maximum efficiency. Your proposal is promising, but it needs to align with those objectives.âÂ
âBut,â you persist, your tone steady, âif we implement those changes, it could lead to dissatisfaction among the employees, which in turn could impact overall morale and performance. This proposal was designed to balance both efficiency and employee well-being.âÂ
Flint leans forward, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. âThis isnât a negotiation. If you want my approval, youâll make the adjustments.âÂ
The room falls silent. Every pair of eyes is on you, waiting to see how youâll respond. You swallow your frustration, your mind racing. Flint isnât just demanding changesâheâs testing you, pushing to see how far youâll bend.Â
âUnderstood,â you say finally, your voice even. You wonât give him the satisfaction of seeing you rattle.Â
Flint nods, his expression unreadable. âGood. I expect the revised proposal on my desk by the end of the week.âÂ
As the meeting adjourns, you gather your materials, your stomach sinking. Flint has made it clear that heâs not a man who compromisesâand now youâre left to figure out how to deal with him.Â
-
The meeting room empties slowly, the air still charged with the weight of Flintâs words. You gather your things methodically, trying to shake the tension from your shoulders.
As you step out, the sight of Hyunjin catches your attention. Heâs on your floor. For a moment, your heart stirs with hope, and you almost smile.
Has he finally been promoted? The thought alone is enough to bring a flicker of happiness amidst the dread of Flintâs demands.Â
But that moment of hope is short-lived.Â
Hyunjinâs stride is brisk, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating anger. He brushes past you without so much as a glance, his eyes locked on one target: Flint.Â
You pause, watching as he storms toward the man whoâs still lingering near the doorway of the meeting room, flanked by his assistant.Â
âYou!â Hyunjinâs voice echoes across the floor, sharp and furious. Heads turn as his words cut through the low hum of office chatter. âHow dare you sabotage my promotion!âÂ
Flint doesnât flinch, his expression as calm as ever. If anything, his interest seems mildly piqued, as though Hyunjinâs outburst is merely an inconvenience he anticipated.Â
Hyunjin doesnât stop, one index finger pointed at Flintâs chest. âIâve worked my ass off for this position! Iâve earned it!â His voice rises with every word. âYou think you can just walk in here and decide Iâm not good enough? You donât even know me!âÂ
The assistant takes a nervous step back, but Flint doesnât move. His hands rest loosely at his sides, his gaze locked on Hyunjin with unsettling composure.Â
âMr. Hwang,â Flint finally says, his voice smooth and unbothered. âI understand youâre upsetââÂ
âUpset?â Hyunjin snaps, cutting him off. âUpset doesnât even begin to cover it. Youâre not fit to be CEO if this is how you run things! Favoring people who havenât put in half the work I have? What kind of leadership is that?âÂ
You stand frozen, your files clutched tightly in your hands. Youâve seen Hyunjin upset before, but this is different. His rage is fiery, unrestrained, and for a moment, you wonder if heâs about to lunge at Flint.Â
But Flint remains unshaken. His calm is unnerving, as if heâs watching a predictable scene unfold rather than being the target of Hyunjinâs anger.Â
Security steps in before things escalate further. Two guards approach swiftly, placing themselves between Hyunjin and Flint.Â
âThatâs enough, Mr. Hwang,â one of them says firmly, motioning for Hyunjin to step back.Â
Hyunjin clenches his fists, his jaw tight. For a moment, it looks like he might resist, but after a tense pause, he takes a step back, his breathing heavy and labored.Â
âThis isnât over,â Hyunjin mutters, his glare piercing.Â
The guards escort him away, leaving a stunned silence in their wake. You glance back at Flint, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his expression remains unreadable.Â
As the hallway clears, Flint turns to his assistant, his voice low but deliberate. âHave Hwangâs file on my desk. Immediately.âÂ
The assistant nods and rushes off without a word.Â
Your stomach sinks. Youâve already seen how Flint operatesâcalculated and unyielding. And now, with Hyunjinâs outburst, itâs clear heâs caught Flintâs attention in the worst way.Â
A chill runs down your spine as you walk back to your desk, your thoughts racing. Flint doesnât let things go. He doesnât forgive. And after what youâve just witnessed, you canât shake the feeling that heâs already planning something sinister for Hyunjin.Â
You sit down, your hands trembling slightly as you replay the scene in your mind. Hyunjinâs fiery passion versus Flintâs icy composureâitâs a clash that could destroy everything.Â
And for the first time, you wonder if Hyunjinâs rage will be his downfall.Â
-
The night is heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustling of pages as you flip through your book of spells. The faint light from a single candle flickers, casting long shadows across your workspace. The book lies open before you, its yellowed pages filled with faded script and intricate diagrams.Â
Your eyes scan the instructions, pausing on a ritual for protection. Itâs a spell youâve never attempted before, but tonight, it feels necessary. Flintâs chilling composure and whispered orders earlier still linger in your mind, and the memory of Hyunjinâs fiery rage has etched itself into your heart.Â
You gather the ingredients, laying them out meticulously: A sprig of rosemary for clarity and purification. A small piece of obsidian for shielding against negativity. A dried bay leaf for protection. A strand of your own hair, tying your energy to the spell.Â
You pull out a small black pouch and place it beside the items. The air feels charged as you light a bundle of sage, letting the smoke cleanse the space. You place the rosemary and obsidian into the pouch first, followed by the bay leaf. With each addition, you focus on Hyunjinâhis face, his energy, his fiery determination. Finally, you add the strand of your hair, knotting the ends to hold your intent firmly in place.Â
With the pouch in your hands, you draw a protective circle around yourself with chalk, marking the edges with small crystals. Sitting cross-legged at its center, you hold the pouch close to your heart, the candlelight reflecting in your eyes.Â
Taking a deep breath, you chant: âBy leaf and stone, by flame and thread. Shield him well from paths of dread. Let no harm pierce, let no ill stay. Protect him now, by night and day.â
You repeat the words three times, your voice steady, each syllable carrying your intent into the universe. As you chant, you feel a warmth build in your chest, spreading through your hands and into the pouch. The air grows still, as if the world is holding its breath.Â
When the final word leaves your lips, the candle flickers wildly before extinguishing itself, leaving you in darkness. A shiver runs down your spine, but you know the ritual is complete.Â
Carefully, you tie the pouch shut with a red thread, knotting it three times for strength. You hold it in your hands, the weight of it light yet significant.Â
âThis will protect you,â you whisper, imagining Hyunjinâs face. âThis will keep you safe.âÂ
For a moment, you allow yourself to hope. Even if Hyunjin never knows what youâve done for him, even if he never remembers what you once shared, at least you can still protect him.Â
-
The office is unusually quiet during lunch breaks, and you know this is your best chance. Taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag and pull out the small talisman you crafted for Hyunjin.Â
The pouch feels warm in your hand, almost pulsing with the protective magic you infused into it. You look around to make sure no one is watching and quickly make your way to Hyunjinâs desk. His briefcase is propped open, papers and files neatly organized inside. With steady hands, you slip the talisman into one of the inner compartments, tucking it safely beneath a folder.Â
A sense of relief washes over you as you straighten up. Itâs done. Hyunjin might not know it, but he has a layer of protection now. Even if youâre unsure of how strong your magic is, youâve done everything you can to help him.Â
You return to your desk, a small flicker of hope settling in your chest. Despite everything, youâve done something good for him.Â
Later that day, as the clock approaches the hour for your meeting with Flint, an uneasy feeling creeps into your stomach. The hallway to his office feels colder than usual, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Clutching your notebook to your chest, you silently chant your usual spell under your breath as you walk:Â
âWith fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.â
The words give you a fragile sense of courage, but it falters when you reach the heavy oak door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.Â
âCome in,â Flintâs voice calls, low and authoritative.Â
You step inside, shutting the door softly behind you. Flint is seated at his desk, an imposing figure with a sharp suit and an even sharper gaze. The room smells faintly of leather and coffee, and the blinds are half-drawn, casting slanted shadows across the desk.Â
As you stand there, your eyes flicker briefly to the stack of files on his desk. Among them, unmistakably, is Hyunjinâs file. Your stomach tightens, but you quickly shift your focus back to Flint as he speaks.Â
âWell?â Flint says, his tone cool but demanding. âHave you made the adjustments I requested?âÂ
You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. âIâve reviewed your demands, sir, and I wanted to suggest a few alternative approaches that could meet the companyâs goals withoutââ Flint raises a hand, silencing you. His gaze is sharp, almost predatory. âLet me stop you right there. I wasnât asking for alternatives. I was asking if youâve done what I told you to do.âÂ
Swallowing hard, you summon your courage. âWith all due respect, sir, I donât believe those adjustments align with the purpose of my proposal. They would negatively impact employee morale, andââÂ
Flint leans back in his chair, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across his face. âYouâre quite bold, arenât you? I admire your spirit, though Iâm starting to wonder if itâs misplaced.âÂ
The air in the room grows heavier as he continues, his voice cutting like a blade. âYou know, for someone in your position, youâd think youâd know better than to argue with your superior. Maybe this is why women like you struggle to make it past middle management.âÂ
His words hit you like a slap, but you keep your expression steady. âI donât see why that has something to do with my ability to do my job, Mr. Hargrave?â you ask, your voice firm but controlled.Â
Flintâs smirk doesnât waver. Instead, he leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled. âOh, Iâm sure you think that. But let me remind you, this isnât about fairness or ideals. This is about doing what youâre told.âÂ
You feel your pulse quicken, your grip on your notebook tightening as he continues.Â
âIf you want to keep rebelling against me,â he says, his tone almost taunting, âgo right ahead. But Iâd be very careful if I were you. You might not like what happens next.âÂ
For a moment, youâre frozen, staring at him as the weight of his words settles over you. Flint is dangerousâmore dangerous than you realized. His calm demeanor only makes him more threatening, and youâre reminded once again that this is not a man to cross.Â
Summoning what little composure you have left, you nod. âUnderstood, sir,â you say, your voice quieter now.Â
Flint leans back in his chair, satisfied, and waves a hand dismissively. âGood. Now, get back to work.âÂ
You turn on your heel and leave the office, your heart pounding as you step into the hallway. The door clicks shut behind you, and only then do you allow yourself to take a shaky breath.Â
Walking back to your desk, you canât shake the image of Hyunjinâs file sitting on Flintâs desk. Whatever Flint is planning, it wonât just affect youâitâll affect him too. And no matter how dangerous Flint is, you know you have to do something.Â
-
A few days have passed, and you begin to feel a slight sense of relief. The talisman is working, or at least you hope it is. Despite seeing Hyunjin's file on Flintâs desk that day, nothing significant has happened. Hyunjin still walks through the halls, just as indifferent as ever. And you... well, youâre still the same.
Watching him from afar, your heart quietly aching for the bond you both shared, but knowing itâs gone, just like the magic you once cast on him.
As usual, you take the elevator down to the parking basement, stealing glances at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye. The elevator is crowded, and itâs hard to even think of doing anything but keeping your distance.
The silence between you two is deafening, as if the space around you had a barrier, both emotional and physical. You want to say something, anything, but the words are lost before they can even form.
The elevator dings, signaling your stop. The doors open, and you step out, your eyes lowering to the ground as you make your way toward your car. You tell yourself to let go of the past, but the weight of it lingers, thick in the air.
You unlock the door to your car, your hand trembling slightly as you grip the handle.
"Wait."
You spin around at the sound of Hyunjinâs voice, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you can react, he grabs your elbow and flips you around, his grip firm but not painful. The world seems to slow as you look up into his eyesâeyes that are no longer filled with warmth but something else. Something searching.
âWhat is this?â Hyunjin demands, holding up the small talisman you slipped into his briefcase, his expression tense, almost accusing. His eyes narrow as he waits for your answer.
Your heart drops into your stomach. You hadn't expected this. He found it. The talisman.
"It's... itâs uh..." you say, trying to steady your voice, but it comes out quieter than you intended. "A talisman."
His grip tightens around your wrist, his expression hardening. âA talisman?â His tone is sharp with disbelief. "What did you do to me? Did you curse me?"
The accusation stings, but you quickly shake your head. "No, no curse. Itâs meant to protect you."
He doesn't let go of your wrist. "Protect me?" His eyes search yours, but there's a flicker of something elseâsuspicion. "Why would you protect me?"
The question hangs in the air, and you feel the truth swelling in your chest, but you canât speak it. The reason you want to protect him... because you care. You care too much. But you canât admit that to him. Not now. Not when everything between you has been reduced to this awkward distance.
You swallow hard and blur the truth. "I saw your file on Flintâs desk. I know he plans on doing something to you. I donât want you to get hurt," you say quickly.
"And I hate Flint too. I do. I know this one spell so I think we could work together to take him down. I just need yourââ
You can feel his grip falter slightly, but then his gaze flickers to something else entirely. Something that causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.
"Wait... are you saying you actually practice witchcraft?" he asks, his voice shaking with a mix of incredulity and fear.
The world spins. You donât even know how to respond. You could lie, but his eyes are burning into yours, and for some reason, lying doesnât feel like an option. Not now.
"Yes," you say softly, unable to stop yourself.
He stares at you in silence for a long moment, and you feel as if the air has been sucked out of the world around you. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, the shock, the disbelief, the fear all rising to the surface. Itâs too much. Too much for him to process.
And then, before you can say anything else, you hear itâthe words you never wanted to hear.
âStay away from me.â
The coldness in his voice cuts through you like a blade. Itâs like an icy wall has been erected between you, one you canât get past. The small spark of hope youâd held ontoâthe hope that Hyunjin might remember, might somehow feel something for you againâdies in that instant.
You take a step back, unable to move for a moment, before you finally blink and lower your gaze. His words echo in your mind, a cruel reminder of how much youâve lost.
âHyunjin, Iââ
He interrupts, his tone harsh now. âI donât want anything to do with you. Donât ever come near me again. Donât use your... your magic on me.â
His words sting, like acid on an open wound. And all you can do is nod, silent tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.
He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there. The good you tried to do has backfired completely. The last shred of hope you had is shattered.
And now, itâs clear: Hyunjin will never see you the way you want him to.
-
Hyunjinâs jaw tightens when he spots you heading toward the elevator at the same time as him. His gaze sharpens, and he throws you a glare as if to remind you of the boundary he firmly set. You stop in your tracks, hesitating as if his silent warning alone is enough to keep you at bay.
The elevator doors slide open, and Hyunjin steps inside without sparing you another glance. But just before the doors close, he catches that look on your face againâthe same sad, almost resigned expression thatâs been haunting him lately. It lingers in his mind for a moment before he forces it away with a shake of his head.
Arriving at the office floor, Hyunjin immediately senses something is off. Several of his colleagues are gathered around his desk, rifling through his drawers and gathering his belongings. Anger bubbles to the surface as he storms over.
âWhat the hell are you doing with my stuff?â Hyunjin demands, his voice cutting through the commotion.
One of his coworkers flinches, looking away uncomfortably, while another mutters, âSorry, Hyunjin, we were toldââ
âTold by who?â he snaps, but before he can press further, someone places a firm hand on his shoulder.
âHyunjin,â comes the calm yet weary voice of Mr. Campbell, his superior. âI need you to come with me to my office.â
Hyunjin hesitates, his eyes darting to the boxed-up items on his desk. âWhatâs going on?â
Mr. Campbell only sighs and gestures for him to follow. Reluctantly, Hyunjin obeys, but unease twists in his stomach as he steps into the office.
Once seated, Mr. Campbell doesnât waste time. âHyunjin, the company has received an anonymous tip that youâve been sharing confidential intel with a competitor.â
The words hit Hyunjin like a punch to the gut. His brow furrows in disbelief. âWhat? Thatâs ridiculous! I would neverââ
âI know, and frankly, I donât believe it either,â Mr. Campbell interjects. âBut these are serious allegations, and the audit team is already investigating. Until they conclude their review, youâre suspended.â
Hyunjin shoots to his feet, his frustration boiling over. âThis is Flint, isnât it? Heâs trying to get rid of me!â
Mr. Campbell raises a hand to calm him. âHyunjin, I understand your anger, but making accusations without evidence will only make things worse for you. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you go home and let the audit team do their work.â
Hyunjin clenches his fists, his mind racing. Every fiber of his being screams at him to march straight into Flintâs office and confront him, but Mr. Campbellâs warning rings in his ears. After a tense moment, he exhales sharply and storms out of the office.
This isnât over. Not by a long shot.
-
Instead of heading home as Mr. Campbell suggested, Hyunjin finds himself at a bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in the middle of the day. The amber liquid burns his throat, but itâs a welcome distraction from the storm brewing in his mind. He feels angry, frustrated, andâthough he hates to admit itâutterly defeated. Flint had outmaneuvered him, and now he was sidelined, his career hanging by a thread.
He shoves a hand into his coat pocket, his fingers brushing against something unfamiliar. Frowning, he pulls it out and stares at the small pouch you had slipped into his briefcase. The talisman.
For a moment, he debates tossing it right then and there, but something stops him. He knows he shouldâve burned it the second he discovered it, shouldâve gotten rid of it if he truly believed it might bring him bad luck. Yet, as he observes it now, he feels a flicker of curiosity rather than fear.
Your words echo in his mind. âI hate Flint too. We could work together to take him down.â
Hyunjin takes another sip of his drink, the idea slowly settling in. Teaming up with you doesnât seem entirely ridiculous anymore. After all, the enemy of his enemy should be his ally. But before he makes any decisions, he wants to confirm something first.
By the time he steps out of the bar, the sun has already begun its descent. With his phone in hand, he searches for the address of a shop heâd found online earlierâa place that specializes in witchcraft. Itâs not long before he arrives at an unassuming storefront with a sign that reads âMoonlit Mystics.â
The moment Hyunjin pushes open the door, heâs hit by the pungent scent of sage. The interior is dimly lit, cluttered with shelves full of crystals, candles, herbs, and other esoteric items. Itâs exactly what he expected, almost to the point of being a clichĂŠ.
âWelcome,â a womanâs voice greets him from behind the counter.
Hyunjin turns to see a middle-aged woman with a serene expression, her dark hair streaked with silver. Sheâs dressed in flowing fabrics, her bracelets jangling as she leans forward.
âCan I help you?â she asks, her voice warm yet curious as she studies him.
Hyunjin hesitates for a second before stepping closer and placing the talisman on the counter. âI found this in my bag and I need your help to know what is this.â
The woman picks it up delicately, her eyes narrowing as she examines it. She unties the pouch and carefully empties the contentsâa sprig of rosemary, a small piece of obsidian, and other small tokensâonto the counter.
âThis,â she says, her tone thoughtful, âis a protection talisman.â
Hyunjin stiffens. âProtection?â
She nods, pointing at each item as she explains. âThe rosemary wards off negative energy, the obsidian absorbs harmful intentions, and the other elements⌠theyâre all chosen to shield the bearer from harm. Whoever made this put a lot of care into it.â
Hyunjin stares at the talisman, a strange mixture of relief and unease washing over him. Your explanation was true. There was no curse, no sinister intentâjust protection.
âThatâs all?â he asks, needing the reassurance one more time.
The woman smiles and slides the opened talisman back to him. âThatâs all. Youâve got nothing to fear from this.â
Hyunjin thanks her quietly and leaves the shop, slipping the talisman back into his pocket. As he steps into the cool evening air, a thought settles in his mind.
Maybe you werenât as dangerous as heâd first assumed.
-
Your fingers skim over the faded pages of the spellbook, the faint scent of aged parchment and herbs filling the air around you. The ritual youâve been studying for days is intricate, layered with steps that demand precision and, more dauntingly, someone elseâs involvement.
Youâve read and reread every line, trying to find a way to execute it alone. Hyunjin is no longer an option, and though the thought leaves a bitter pang in your chest, you know you canât afford distractions. Flint has to be dealt with, and you canât let emotionsâespecially feelings for someone who now despises youâget in the way.
A sharp knock at the door snaps you out of your thoughts. You jolt upright, your heartbeat quickening. You arenât expecting anyone, and for a moment, paranoia creeps in. Has Flint somehow discovered your plans? Bracing yourself, you approach the door and crack it open, only to freeze in place.
Hyunjin. Itâs impossible not to think of the last time he showed up unannounced. Back then, his smile was warm, lighting up the space between you like a ray of sunshine. Now, that warmth is gone, replaced with a neutral expression that borders on cold. Still, itâs him. And despite everything, seeing him standing there stirs a flicker of hope deep inside you.
âCan I come in?â he asks, his tone low and guarded.
Wordlessly, you step aside, letting him in. Hyunjin walks past you, his gaze sweeping over your small apartment. His eyes linger on the shelves lined with books, jars of herbs, and candles. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he takes it all in, piecing together your world.
Finally, he turns to face you. âIâve been thinking about what you said.â
You cross your arms, unsure of where this is going. âWhat about it?â
âThat we could work together to take Flint down.â
Your eyes widen. Of all the things you expected, this wasnât it. âYouâre serious?â
He nods. âWe have a common enemy, donât we? And after everything thatâs happenedâŚâ He trails off, his jaw tightening. âLetâs just say Iâm willing to reconsider.â
You study him carefully, trying to gauge his sincerity. âWhy the change of heart?â
Hyunjin shrugs, his tone nonchalant. âBecause I hate him. And I think you do too.â
A bitter laugh escapes your lips. âThatâs putting it lightly.â
He takes a step closer, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. âSo? Whatâs the plan?â
For a moment, you hesitate. Bringing Hyunjin into your world againâafter everything thatâs happenedâfeels risky. But heâs here, willing, and you need his help.
Wordlessly, you walk over to the table where your spellbook lies open and gesture for him to follow. As he approaches, you turn the book toward him, pointing at the page outlining the ritual.
âThis,â you say, your voice steady, âis the ultimate plan.â
Hyunjin leans in, his eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and detailed instructions. The more he reads, the more his brows furrow. When he finally straightens up, his expression is a mix of disbelief and intrigue.
âYouâre serious about this?â he asks, tilting his head slightly.
âYes,â you reply.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, breaking the tension in the room. âYouâre⌠something else, you know that?â
You canât tell if itâs an insult or a compliment, but you choose to ignore it. Instead, you get straight to the point.
âI need you to follow Flint,â you say. âLearn his routine, his habits, where he goes when heâs not at the office. Itâll help me figure out the best time and place to execute this.â
Hyunjin crosses his arms, still smirking. âSo Iâm your spy now?â
âIf you want Flint gone as much as I do, then yes.â
He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. âFine. Iâll do it. But donât expect me to believe in all thisâŚâ He gestures vaguely at the book. âMagic stuff.â
You meet his gaze, your voice firm. âYou donât have to believe in it. You just have to trust that I know what Iâm doing.â
Hyunjin stares at you for a moment longer before nodding. âAlright. Letâs see where this takes us.â
For the first time in days, you feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the two of you can pull this off.
-
Hyunjin knocks on your door, his mind a whirlwind of frustration. Heâs spent the entire day tailing Flint, only to come up empty. Tight security, bodyguards, private driversâFlint might as well be untouchable. Heâs ready to let you know just how impossible your plan is when the door swings open, and there you are.
You donât look surprised to see him, but your calm demeanor only adds to his irritation. âCome in,â you say simply, stepping aside.
Hyunjin steps into your apartment, glancing around out of habit. The room feels different tonightâdim, shadows stretching across the walls, and that faint smell of something herbal lingering in the air. It makes his skin prickle. His eyes land on the open spellbook on your table, pages marked with symbols he doesnât understand, and for a second, he wonders just what kind of person heâs teamed up with.
âDid you find anything?â you ask, sitting down at the table.
Hyunjin exhales sharply, dropping into the chair opposite you. âFlintâs a ghost wrapped in money and muscle. He lives in a penthouse with security tighter than a vault. Heâs got his assistant slash his bodyguard with him at all times, a driver who doesnât leave his side, and the only place he goes after work is some exclusive club. And guess what? That place is crawling with security too.â
You nod slowly, processing his words without a hint of panic. It annoys him. âSo, no easy access,â you say, almost to yourself.
âNone,â Hyunjin says bitterly. âThis whole thing is a waste of time.â
But you donât look deterred. Instead, you lean back in your chair, tapping a finger against the table. âThere is one way,â you say, voice steady.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes. âAnd whatâs that?â
âIâll seduce him.â
He blinks, sure he must have misheard you. âWhat?â
You meet his stare, unwavering. âIf I make him interested in me, I can get close to him. Close enough to do what needs to be done.â
Hyunjin stares at you, caught between disbelief and a strange, simmering unease. âAre you serious? You think Flint would go for someone like you?â
Your lips twitch into a smirk. âYouâd be surprised what I can do.â
Something about the confidence in your voice sends a shiver down his spine. He tries to shake it off, folding his arms across his chest. âThis is insane. And dangerous.â
âEverything about this is dangerous,â you shoot back, leaning forward now. âBut do you have a better idea?â
Hyunjin doesnât answer. He knows youâre rightâthereâs no other way. Still, the thought of Flint and you in the same room, let alone this⌠plan, twists something uncomfortable in his gut.
âWhat do you need from me?â he asks reluctantly.
âI need you to get something for me,â you say, your tone shifting.
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. âWhat?â
âFlintâs hair.â
For a moment, he thinks youâre joking. When your expression doesnât change, he feels his stomach drop. âHis hair? Why the hell do you need that?â
âFor a spell,â you say simply, as if thatâs supposed to make sense.
Hyunjin stares at you, his jaw tightening. âYouâve got to be kidding me. What kind of spell?â
âItâs better if you donât know.â
The casual way you dismiss his question only makes his unease grow. He leans forward, trying to read your expression, but youâre impossible to decipher. âYouâre asking me to steal a piece of his hair, and youâre not even going to tell me why?â
âExactly,â you say, meeting his gaze head-on.
Hyunjin leans back, running a hand through his own hair. This is reckless. This is dangerous. And yetâŚ
âFine,â he says finally. âIâll figure out a way to get it. But this better not blow up in our faces.â
âIt wonât,â you say quickly.
Hyunjin doesnât believe you, not fully. But heâs already in too deep to back out now. Standing, he shoves his hands into his coat pockets and heads for the door. Before he leaves, he glances back at you, still sitting at that table with your strange book and your even stranger confidence.
âI just hope you know what youâre doing,â he mutters before stepping out into the night.
As the door shuts behind him, a chill creeps up his spine. This alliance feels like walking a tightrope over a pit of flames, but what choice does he have?
-
After Hyunjin leaves, the apartment feels eerily quiet. You close the door and stand there for a moment, staring at the space he just occupied. Thereâs a heaviness in your chest, but you push it aside. Thereâs no time to dwell on emotions when thereâs so much to be done.
You grab your spellbook from the table and flip through its worn pages, searching for the ritual you need. The words blur slightly under the dim light, but you recognize the spell when you see itâthe ritual to enhance allure, to make yourself irresistible, particularly to a specific target.
Flint may be powerful, but magic is older and stronger than any man.
Taking the book with you, you head to the bathroom. You start by filling the tub, the sound of running water echoing around the small space. As the water rises, you gather the ingredients: dried rose petals for attraction, cinnamon for warmth and desire, honey to sweeten your aura, and a single white candle for purity of intention.
You kneel by the tub, the steam rising to kiss your face. One by one, you add the ingredients to the water, watching as the petals swirl and the honey dissolves. The cinnamon spreads like whispers of fire across the surface, and you swirl it all together with your hand, moving clockwise.
Closing your eyes, you begin to chant:
"By waterâs flow and fireâs light. Let allure be my gift this night. Rose and honey, sweet and true. Let my charm be seen by you. By earth and air, my power takes flight. Grant me allure, shining bright."
The words feel heavy on your tongue, their weight sinking into the water as you chant. The air in the bathroom shifts, thickening with an unseen energy.
You remove your clothes and step into the tub, the warm, fragrant water enveloping you. A shiver runs through your bodyânot from the temperature, but from the unmistakable pulse of magic that seems to seep into your skin, wrapping itself around you like a second layer.
As you sink deeper into the water, you chant the spell again, your voice softer this time, almost a whisper:
"By waterâs flow and fireâs light. Let allure be my gift this night."
The energy hums beneath your skin, subtle but undeniable. You lean back, letting the water cover your body, and close your eyes. For a moment, you feel powerful, invincible.
When you finally step out of the tub, droplets of enchanted water slide down your skin, leaving behind a faint warmth that lingers. You wrap yourself in a towel, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Thereâs something different in your eyesâsomething sharper, more confident.
-
The almanac is clear: wear blue today. Blue is the color of trust, calmness, and, most importantly, attraction. Itâs a shade that commands attention subtly, not overtly.
You pull out a fitted blouse and a pencil skirt, pairing them with heels that click confidently against the floor as you move. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjust your hair and take a deep breath. This isnât just about Flint seeing you; itâs about him wanting to see you again.
Arriving at work, you keep your plan simple. Flint always leaves his office at some point during the dayâwhether itâs for a meeting or simply to make his rounds. Thatâs when youâll strike.
You grab a stack of files, deliberately choosing ones that look bulky and hard to manage. The weight of them grounds you, keeping your hands from trembling as you wait near the corridor. Minutes feel like hours, but finally, Flintâs door opens, and he steps out, his usual bodyguard trailing behind him.
You start walking, eyes cast downward, pretending to be absorbed in your papers. Just as heâs about to pass you, you execute your move.
âOh!â you gasp as you stumble slightly, letting the files slip from your grasp. Papers scatter across the floor in a dramatic mess, a symphony of fluttering pages.
You immediately bend down to pick them up, keeping your movements deliberate. You arch your back slightly, your skirt hugging your curves as you gather the scattered papers.
âI'm so sorry, sir,â you say softly, glancing up at Flint through your lashes. Your tone is humble, apologetic, but not groveling.
For a moment, he does nothing but stare. His expression is unreadable, his sharp eyes watching your every move. Just as youâre starting to feel the tension in the air thicken, he moves. He bends downânot fully, just enough to pick up a stray document near his polished shoe.
âHere,â he says, handing it to you.
âThank you,â you reply, your fingers brushing his briefly as you take the paper. Your heart beats a little faster, but you keep your composure.
You stand, clutching the files to your chest, and smile shyly. âIâm so sorry again. I wasnât paying attention.â
For a moment, your eyes meet his, and you take your chance. Quietly, subtly, you chant the spell in your mind:
"With this gaze, let me linger in your thought. A presence remembered, a web unwrought. See me, recall me, let me stay. In your mind, come what may."
Thereâs no way to know if it worksânot yet. Flint straightens his tie and gives you a curt nod before walking away, his assistant close behind. You sigh softly, relieved the interaction is over, and start to collect the rest of your scattered papers.
But then, just as youâre stacking the last of the documents, you feel it. A faint prickle at the back of your neck. You glance up and catch Flint looking over his shoulder at you before disappearing down the corridor.
A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Itâs not confirmation, but itâs a start.
-
Hyunjin leans back in the driverâs seat, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. The leather creaks beneath him as he shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position in his cramped car. Heâs been parked across from Flintâs office building for hours, waiting for somethingâanythingâto happen.
Suspension has its perks, he tells himself, though the bitterness lingers in the back of his mind. No endless meetings, no rushed deadlines. Just this: a stakeout that feels like a low-budget spy movie. His career might be teetering on the edge of collapse, but at least he has time to figure out what Flintâs up to.
Finally, just as dusk begins to settle over the city, Flint emerges from the building. Hyunjin straightens in his seat, his heart giving a small jolt of anticipation. Flint strides confidently to his car, his ever-present assistant trailing close behind. Hyunjin starts his engine, keeping a safe distance as he tails them through the city streets.
After a short drive, they pull into the parking lot of a high-end restaurant. Hyunjin follows, finding a discreet spot to park before slipping inside. He tugs his cap lower over his face and scans the dining area, his eyes locking on Flint almost immediately.
To his surprise, Flint isnât dining alone. Seated across from him is a woman Hyunjin recognizes instantlyâBrownwyn, the secretary to the head of the legal team. Flintâs body language is relaxed, his attention fully on her. Brownwyn leans in slightly, a coy smile playing on her lips as she twirls the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.
Hyunjinâs brow furrows. This doesnât look like a business dinner.
Sliding into a corner booth with a clear view of their table, Hyunjin orders a coffee he doesnât intend to drink and settles in for the long haul. The restaurant buzzes with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery, but Hyunjinâs focus never wavers.
He watches as they share a meal, the interaction between them confirming his suspicions. Flint laughs at something Brownwyn says, leaning closer as the evening progresses. Thereâs an intimacy in their exchange that has nothing to do with work.
When they finally leave, Hyunjin follows them outside, keeping his distance as they climb into Flintâs car. He trails them through the city once more, his pulse quickening when they pull into the parking lot of a nearby hotel.
Hyunjin parks and enters the lobby just in time to see Flint and Brownwyn at the reception desk. He watches from the shadows as theyâre handed a keycard and head toward the elevators, Flintâs hand resting casually on the small of Brownwynâs back.
Thatâs all he needs to see. Hyunjin lets out a low breath and turns back toward the exit. He doesnât need to guess whatâs going to happen next, and honestly, he doesnât want to. What matters is that he now has something tangible to work withâa secret Flint wouldnât want getting out.
Slipping into his car, Hyunjin pulls out his phone and jots down a few notes. His night hasnât been wasted after all.
-
Hyunjin stands outside your door, the cool evening air brushing against his skin. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates, then does it anyway. Itâs late, but this couldnât wait.
When you open the door, heâs taken aback. He canât quite put his finger on it, but something about you is⌠different. Thereâs a subtle glow to your skin, a softness to your features that wasnât there before. He shakes the thought away as you invite him in, your voice as composed as ever.
Once inside, Hyunjin gets straight to the point. "I followed Flint today," he says, his tone clipped.
He recounts everythingâthe restaurant, the intimate dinner with Brownwyn, the trip to the hotel. âI think we should spread it around the office,â he concludes. âIf people know about his fling with Brownwyn, it could ruin his reputation.â
But you shake your head, crossing your arms. âThatâs not enough to bring him down, Hyunjin.â
Frustration bubbles in his chest. âNot enough?â he snaps. âIâm suspended. Do you understand what that means? I might not even have a job to go back to!â
You meet his glare with a steady gaze. âOnce Flint is taken down, itâll be easier for you to get your job back,â you say firmly. Your confidence in your plan only makes him angrier, but he knows youâre right. Flint is the key.
You shift the topic. âDid you get the hair?â
Hyunjin sighs and pulls a crumpled tissue from his pocket, holding it up like itâs a prize. âYeah. I snuck into the coat room at the restaurant and found a strand on his coat.â He places the tissue on the table, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment despite himself.
Your lips curl into a small smile. âGood. Thatâs one step closer.â
He watches as you carefully pick up the tissue, your fingers grazing the edge of it with reverence, as if it holds the answer to everything. Then a thought strikes him.
âWhat about your plan to seduce him?â he asks. âYou really think thatâs going to work?â
You glance up at him, and for a moment, thereâs something in your eyesâsomething sharp and knowing. âIâve already started,â you say simply.
Hyunjin scoffs, leaning back against the wall. âI donât know if youâre the type heâd go for,â he mutters, though the words sound more skeptical than cruel.
âIâve done it before,â you reply confidently, your voice carrying a weight that makes him uneasy.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you, trying to read between the lines. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â he asks.
Your gaze flicks to him, lingering for a second too long. Thereâs something in your expressionâa glint of mischief, but also a flicker of sadness. Itâs unsettling, like youâre holding onto something he canât see.
âIt means,â you say slowly, âI know how to get what I want.â
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. For a moment, Hyunjin feels like youâre not talking about Flint at all.
-
The night feels heavy, the air thick with unspoken urgency as you prepare for the ritual. Hyunjinâs growing anxiety about his suspended career gnaws at you, a constant reminder that youâre running out of time. If Flint doesnât fall into your trap soon, the plan will crumble, and with it, any chance of saving Hyunjin's jobâand perhaps even yourself.
You glance at the small tissue placed carefully beside the almanac. Inside it lies Flintâs hair, the most critical component of the spell. Hyunjin came through, and now, thereâs no time to waste.
With steady hands, you gather the rest of the ingredients: rose petals for passion, honey for sweetness, and a drop of your own blood for power and intent. Each item is laid out before you in a precise circle, their arrangement forming the spellâs foundation.
You light the candles one by one, murmuring the incantation under your breath as each flame flickers to life. The room grows warmer, the air thick with the scent of herbs and wax.
Sitting cross-legged before the altar, you pick up the strands of Flintâs hair, weaving them carefully into the rose petals. Closing your eyes, you focus on the image of himâhis sharp gaze, his commanding presence. You imagine him looking at you, drawn to you with an uncontrollable desire.
You begin the chant, your voice steady and low at first, then rising in intensity. Each word carries your intent, your need, your determination. The energy in the room shifts, buzzing like static electricity.
"By fireâs light and heartâs desire. Let him be drawn, his soul inspired. Through thought and dream, he seeks for me. Bound by will, so let it be."
As you chant, you feel the power building within you, a heady sensation that sends chills down your spine. Your hands move instinctively, blending the ingredients with precision, each motion an extension of your will.
When the final words of the spell leave your lips, you take a deep breath and release it slowly, feeling the magic settle over you like an invisible veil. You open your eyes and look at the small bundle of ingredients now bound together with red thread. It hums with energy, glowing faintly under the candlelight.
You place the bundle into a small pouch, clutching it tightly in your hands. The ritual is complete, but the true challenge lies aheadâfacing Flint and testing the spellâs power.
-
The next morning, you wake up earlier than usual, carefully selecting your outfit and ensuring every detail of your appearance is flawless. If the spell worked, today will be the day Flint notices you, truly notices you.
As you step into the office, a surge of determination courses through you. When you knock on Flintâs office door, your pulse quickens. His voice calls for you to enter, and you step inside, flashing your most charming smile. He barely glances up from his paperwork, his usual cold demeanor intact.
âSir,â you begin, stepping closer to his desk. âI heard you have a meeting with a client this afternoon. Iâd like to take care of the presentation for you.â
His pen pauses mid-stroke, and he looks up at you. For a moment, thereâs nothing in his expressionâjust the same sharp, calculating stare youâve come to expect. But you press on, your voice warm and persuasive.
âI know itâs last-minute, but Iâve reviewed the files. Iâm confident I can handle it, and itâll give you more time to focus on⌠other matters.â You let your words linger, tilting your head slightly as if youâre offering more than just a simple favor.
He studies you in silence, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. Finally, he exhales through his nose and leans back in his chair.
âFine,â he relents. âBut donât mess it up. The meetingâs at two. Be ready.â
You nod, trying not to let the victorious smile show too much. âThank you, sir. I wonât let you down.â
By the time two oâclock rolls around, youâre impeccably prepared. Standing in the elevator beside Flint, you notice his usual air of authority, but thereâs something elseâsomething quieter, like curiosity.
As the elevator hums to life, you turn to him with a polite smile. âMay I?â you ask, gesturing to his tie, which is slightly askew.
He glances at you, then nods. âGo ahead.â
You step closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the fabric as you adjust the knot. His eyes remain fixed on you, his expression unreadable but intent. You can feel his assistantâs glare burning into you from behind, but you ignore it, focusing on Flint.
âThere,â you say softly, straightening the tie and stepping back. âPerfect.â
His gaze lingers on you a moment longer, and you meet it with a confident smile before turning away as the elevator doors open.
In the meeting room, you deliver the presentation with practiced ease, your voice steady and your points concise. You notice, however, that Flintâs eyes remain locked on you the entire time. Itâs not the typical critical gaze he gives his employeesâitâs something heavier, something that makes your skin prickle with awareness.
You meet his eyes briefly during the presentation, letting a small smile play on your lips before returning to your slides. Each time you glance his way, heâs watching, his expression unreadable but intense.
When the meeting concludes, you gather your papers, feeling a rush of pride and anticipation. As everyone files out, you linger slightly, hoping Flint will say somethingâanythingâto confirm the spell is working.
But he doesnât. He simply nods at you before walking away, his assistant trailing after him.
You stand there for a moment, the air of victory youâd felt earlier evaporating. Did it work? you wonder, doubt creeping into your mind.
Maybe the spell wasnât strong enough. Maybe Flintâs will is stronger than you anticipated. Or maybe⌠just maybe⌠itâs working more subtly than you realized.
-
Hyunjin paces in front of your door, his frustration bubbling under the surface. He hasnât felt this restless in a long timeâhis career hanging by a thread, his life spiraling out of control, and no certainty in sight. He clenches his fists, trying to push back the overwhelming sense of failure creeping in.
Every sound in the hallway makes him turn his head, and when the elevator dings, he freezes. You step out, a look of surprise flashing across your face when you see him.
âHyunjin?â you ask, your voice soft yet cautious.
He doesnât answer right away. Instead, the floodgates open. âIâm losing my mind here. Do you know how hard it is for me to just sit and wait? To follow your plan when I donât even know if itâs working?â His voice rises slightly, his frustration bleeding through. âMy career is on the line, my life is on the line, and all Iâm doing is running around in circles for this!â
You stand there, calm and collected, letting him vent without interrupting. When he finally pauses to take a breath, you step closer, your tone steady but firm.
âIt is working, Hyunjin. You just have to trust me.â
He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. âTrust you? I donât even know ifââ
âHave you eaten?â you cut him off, your eyes narrowing slightly as you take in his pale complexion.
âWhat?â he asks, caught off guard.
âYou look like you havenât eaten all day. Come in, Iâll make you something,â you say, unlocking your door and holding it open for him.
Hyunjin hesitates, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach betrays him. He follows you inside, sinking into a chair at your kitchen table while you move around with ease, preparing a simple meal.
The smell of food fills the small space, and despite himself, Hyunjin feels his tension begin to ease. When you set the plate in front of him, he doesnât even bother to argue, picking up his fork and digging in.
As he eats, a strange sensation washes over him. He glances around the room, the soft lighting, the faint scent of whatever incense you burned earlier, and the way youâre moving about the kitchenâit all feels familiar.
Too familiar.
He pauses mid-bite, the fork hovering in the air as a wave of dĂŠjĂ vu hits him like a freight train. Heâs been here before. Heâs sat at this table before, eating a meal you prepared, sharing this moment.
But thatâs impossible.
âHave weâŚâ he begins, but the words catch in his throat. He shakes his head, trying to push the strange feeling aside.
Before he can finish his thought, your phone buzzes on the counter. You glance at the screen, and your demeanor shifts instantly. You grab the phone, answering it with a tone thatâs light and professional.
âHello?â you say, your back to him as you pace slightly.
Hyunjin canât help but strain to hear the conversation, catching snippets of your words. âYes⌠tomorrow night⌠drinks? Of course⌠Iâll be there.â
When you hang up, you turn back to him with a spark of triumph in your eyes. âThat was Flint.â
Hyunjin sits up straighter, his curiosity piqued.
���He just invited me for drinks tomorrow night,â you casually say as you pick up your fork to continue eating.
In that moment, Hyunjin instantly regrets that he didn't trust you in the first place.
-
The almanac doesnât leave room for second-guessing, so you stick to its advice, dressing in the suggested colorâa deep, alluring shade that accentuates your figure. You take extra care with your appearance tonight, ensuring every detail is perfect. Flint has to notice you; he has to want you.
The pub Flint mentioned in his call is nothing extravagant, but its cozy, vintage atmosphere is charming in its own way. You arrive purposefully late, just enough to seem like youâre not desperate for his attention.
As you step inside, the warm lighting and low hum of conversation wrap around you. You spot Flint almost immediately, seated in a booth near the back. His ever-present assistant slash bodyguard is by his side, like a shadow that never strays too far.
But tonight, Flint looks differentâdressed casually, the stiffness of his usual office attire replaced with a relaxed charm. He seems more his age, and it strikes you that heâs only three years older than you.
When he sees you, a smile spreads across his face, and as you approach, his eyes trail over you. The attention is unmistakable, almost palpable.
âYou look stunning,â he says, his voice smoother than youâve ever heard it.
âThank you,â you reply with a small smile, tilting your head just enough to let your earrings catch the light.
He leads you to the booth, and to your relief, he gestures for his assistant to leave. As the assistant fades into the background, you feel a slight wave of freedomâitâs just you and Flint now.
âThanks for coming,â he says, motioning for you to sit.
âOf course,â you reply, sliding into the seat across from him.
He leans back slightly, studying you with an intensity that feels almost disarming. âI wanted to thank you for the presentation yesterday. You did a great job.â
You smile, dipping your head modestly. âIâm glad you think so.â
âI have to admit,â he continues, a playful edge in his tone, âI didnât think you had it in you. Youâve surprised me.â
You raise an eyebrow, playing along. âOh? And how exactly did you see me before?â
His smile turns flirtatious, his eyes gleaming. âI thought you were uptight, always buried in your work. I didnât know there was this⌠fun side to you.â
You feign a pout. âThatâs disappointing. Iâm sad you never paid enough attention to me to notice before.â
He chuckles, the sound low and rich. The conversation flows easily, growing more intimate with each passing minute. His charm is undeniable, but you keep reminding yourself this isnât about you; itâs about the plan.
And then, he leans in.
His face is close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, his gaze locked onto yours. Your heart races, not with excitement but with the weight of the moment. You promised yourself youâd do anything to make this work, anything to bring Flint to his knees.
But as his lips move closer, something in you snaps.
At the very last second, you dodge, turning your head slightly so his kiss lands awkwardly near your cheek. The air shifts instantly.
When you look back at him, the expression on his face tells you everything. The interest, the desireâit vanishes like a flame snuffed out.
Flint pulls back, his demeanor cool and detached. âI just remembered,â he says, his tone suddenly businesslike, âI have something I need to take care of.â
You nod, even though you know the truth. His excuse is nothing more than a polite dismissal.
As he stands and adjusts his jacket, you force a smile, pretending you donât see the disappointment in his eyesâor feel the failure burning in your chest.
When he leaves the pub, you remain seated, staring down at the untouched drink in front of you. Your plan has failed, and the weight of that realization sits heavy in the pit of your stomach.
-
Hyunjin hesitates as he steps off the elevator and walks toward your door. He isnât sure if youâre back yet, but the uncertainty doesnât stop him. Heâs been restless since earlier tonight, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him.
When the door opens, his breath catches for a moment. Youâre standing there in a bathrobe, your hair damp and clinging to your neck. Your expression is unreadable, but itâs enough to tell him that things didnât go as planned.
You donât say a word, just push the door open wider, allowing him to step inside. Hyunjin walks in slowly, his eyes flickering to you as you close the door behind him.
The silence feels heavy, but he doesnât press you. He moves to the dining table and takes a seat, his gaze following you as you head to the kitchen. The way you saunter to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water is oddly mesmerizing. Thereâs something different about you tonightâno sharp quips, no smug assurance.
Finally, he breaks the quiet. âHow did it go?â
You pause mid-sip, the rim of the glass pressed against your lips. Lowering it slowly, you let out a bitter laugh and lean against the counter. âIt went fine... until it didnât.â
Hyunjin frowns. âWhat do you mean?â
You recount everythingâthe pub, the conversation, how everything seemed to be going perfectly until you dodged Flintâs kiss. Your voice remains steady, but Hyunjin can hear the frustration laced in your words, the self-reproach hiding beneath them.
He exhales, leaning back in his chair. âItâs okay. You donât have to do all that. Really.â
But you shake your head, your eyes narrowing. âNo, itâs not okay. I wasnât enough. I should have done my part right. If I had justââ
âYou donât have to push yourself this far,â Hyunjin interrupts gently, his voice soft but firm. âYouâve already done so much.â
You glare at him, the fire in your gaze a stark contrast to the exhaustion etched into your features. âYou donât get it,â you snap, but your tone lacks venom. Itâs frustrationâat yourself more than anything.
Hyunjin stares at you, trying to find the right words. But as he watches you stand there, gripping the edge of the counter as if trying to hold yourself together, something shifts in him.
This whole time, heâs been so focused on his own frustrations, his own doubts about the plan, that he never stopped to consider how much youâve been sacrificing, how much youâve been giving to make this work.
For the first time, Hyunjin sees the weight youâre carryingâand how deeply determined you are to see this plan through.
âI see it now,â he says softly, almost to himself.
You glance at him, your expression wary. âSee what?â
He shakes his head, offering you a faint smile instead of answering. For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, the silence heavy with unspoken words. Then you sigh, push off the counter, and make your way to the table.
âIâm not giving up,â you say, sitting across from him. Thereâs a quiet determination in your voice, one that Hyunjin canât help but admire.
âI know,â he replies, his voice steady. âAnd Iâll make sure we see this through.â
-
The plan you created with Hyunjin echoes in your mind as you park your car in the office lot, waiting for most people to leave. You glance at Flintâs car still parked a few spaces away, and your heart races. This is your moment to get his interest back.
Taking a deep breath, you pop the front hood of your car and adopt a distressed expression. You lean over the engine, pretending to inspect it, though you have no idea what youâre looking for. Pulling out your phone, you stage a fake call for help, your voice carrying just enough to be heard if someone were near.
Time stretches painfully slow until you finally spot Flint walking out of the building with his ever-present assistant trailing behind. Your pulse quickens, but you keep your expression pitiful, glancing down at the engine in feigned confusion.
Flint walks straight toward his car without sparing you a glance, his assistant opening the car door for him. Your chest tightens as doubt creeps inâthis might not work.
Swallowing your hesitation, you take the next step. You approach his assistant with timid steps, clutching your hands together nervously.
âExcuse me,â you say, your voice soft but loud enough to stop him. âCan you help me check what's wrong with my car? Please?â
The assistant glances at Flint, who gives him a slight nod. Without hesitation, the assistant walks over to your car and leans over to inspect the engine.
âLooks like your carâs out of commission,â he declares after a quick glance. âYouâll need a mechanic.â
You let your shoulders sag in an exaggerated display of disappointment, biting your lip as you feign helplessness. Flint watches from the comfort of his car, his expression unreadable. It isnât until his assistant walks back and murmurs something to him that he rolls down the window slightly.
âItâs late,â Flint says, his tone casual but laced with authority. âIâll have my driver drop you off. Get in.â
You flash him a grateful smile, walking to the car and slipping into the seat next to him. The door shuts with a solid thud, and you feel his presence keenly, even in the spacious interior.
âThank you,â you murmur, adjusting your posture to seem both grateful and charming.
As the car begins to move, you glance at him shyly. âI really appreciate this. And, by the way, I had fun the other night. Itâs a shame it ended so soon.â
Flint turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if gauging your sincerity. âIs that so?â
You nod, letting a coy smile grace your lips. âI guess I was just nervous. You caught me off guard.â
The ride feels both endless and fleeting. By the time the car pulls up in front of your apartment building, you steel yourself for the final step. The driver opens your door, but you make no move to leave just yet.
Turning to Flint, you lean in closer, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widen slightly, his body going rigid as you press your lips to his in a soft but deliberate kiss.
When you pull away, his expression is a mix of surprise and intrigue. You smile at him, your voice sultry. âI shouldâve done that sooner.â
Before stepping out, you cast him one last glance, your lips curling into a playful smile. âSee you tomorrow at the office, Mr. Hargrave.â
With that, you step out of the car, feeling his gaze linger on you as you walk toward your building.
The plan is officially back on track when you catch the sight of Flintâs sleek car parked right out front of your apartment building the next morning. Your pulse quickens with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation.
As the car door opens, Flint steps out, looking as polished and composed as always. His lips curve into a smile, and for a moment, you revel in the small victory. The spell is working.
âGood morning,â he greets warmly, gesturing toward the open car door. âShall we?â
Feigning surprise, you raise an eyebrow and offer him a playful smile. âWhatâs this? You went out of your way to pick me up?â
He chuckles softly, brushing it off. âYour car broke down, didnât it? I thought itâd be a shame if you were late to work because of that.â
You tilt your head slightly, studying him with a curious gaze. He looks so nonchalant, but you know better. Beneath his composed exterior, the spell is undoubtedly weaving its magic.
âWell,â you say, stepping closer to him, âthank you for the thoughtful gesture.â
Your smile deepens as you slip into the car, catching the faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes before he closes the door behind you.
As the car glides through the streets toward the office, you canât help but feel a surge of confidence. The plan is back in motion, and Flint is right where you want himâunder your spell.
-
Hyunjin leans against the wall of the dimly lit hallway, arms crossed tightly as he watches Flintâs car pull up outside your building.
Itâs become a routine he hatesâFlint stepping out, opening the car door for you like some picture-perfect gentleman, and the two of you exchanging pleasantries that seem far too intimate.
Tonight is no different. Hyunjinâs jaw tightens as Flint helps you out of the car, his hand lingering on your arm longer than it should. You and him exchange a few words, Flintâs deep voice carrying softly in the still evening air.
Then, as if to push Hyunjin further into frustration, Flint tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips before stepping back.
Hyunjinâs fists clench at his sides. If he didnât know this was all part of a carefully crafted plan, he might have believed the two of you were genuinely in love. But the knot in his chest isnât just frustrationâitâs jealousy. Why?
The question eats at him as he waits for Flintâs car to drive away. When it finally disappears down the street, Hyunjin pushes himself off the wall and heads up to your apartment. He knocks sharply, his impatience barely contained.
You open the door almost immediately, as though you were expecting him. Your expression is calm, maybe even a little amused.
âAre you okay?â Hyunjin asks, his eyes scanning your face for any sign that something is wrong. âDid Flint⌠do anything to you?â
Your lips curl into a small, knowing smile. âIâm fine,â you say coyly, stepping aside to let him in. âYou donât need to worry so much.â
Hyunjin follows you into the living room, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. âWe should speed this up,â he says, his voice sharp with urgency. âLetâs execute the plan quickly so you donât have to keep being around him.â
You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. âI donât enjoy his company, either,â you say with a shrug. âBut the best time for the ritual is Friday. Until then, I have to keep the act going.��
Hyunjin stares at the floor, jaw tight. âI just donât like seeing you with him,â he admits, the words spilling out before he can stop them. âHeâs⌠heâs dangerous. Iâm afraid heâs going to do something to you.â
You step closer, your expression softening. âHyunjin, I can handle Flint,â you say gently, your voice steady.
But your reassurance doesnât ease the tightness in his chest. Hyunjin looks up to meet your gaze, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. Is it really Flintâs cruelty that bothers him, or is it something else entirely?
-
In the office, you step into Flintâs room, proposal folder in hand. He looks up from his desk as you enter, offering a faint smile as you approach. You present your proposal with a professional demeanor, walking him through every point with precision. Once youâre done, you pause, your hands resting lightly on the edge of his desk.
âMr. Hargrave,â you say, your tone shifting slightly, âmay I be unprofessional for just a moment?â
Flint raises an eyebrow but leans back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. âGo ahead,â he says with a small smile.
You smile back, your gaze steady. âYou once promised me dinner,â you begin, tilting your head slightly. âI was wondering⌠when you plan on making good on that promise.â
Flint chuckles, his amusement deepening. âIf youâd like,â he says smoothly, âwe can have that dinner tonight.â
Feigning a thoughtful expression, you shake your head. âI appreciate the offer, but I have a better idea,â you say, leaning in just slightly. âHow about I cook you dinner? At my place.â
Flintâs eyebrows lift, curiosity sparking in his expression. âYour place?â he repeats, clearly intrigued.
You nod, adding with a sly smile, âA dinner at my place is far more intimate. BesidesâŚâ You glance over your shoulder, as if expecting to see his ever-present assistant lurking nearby. âI hate seeing your assistant hovering around all the time.â
Flint lets out a low laugh, nodding his agreement. âFair enough,â he says. âDinner at your place it is.â
Satisfied, you excuse yourself, turning to leave. But before you can take more than a step, Flint stands and closes the distance between you.
âSince weâre still being âunprofessional,ââ he says, his voice low, before his hands find your waist and he pulls you closer. His lips meet yours in a firm, calculated kiss, one that you have no choice but to return.
As you kiss him, your eyes flick to the mirror on the wall. Your reflection stares back at you, your lips curved in a small, knowing smile. Mischief glints in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the game youâre playing and the plan thatâs slowly coming together.
-
Hyunjin knocks on your door, shifting uncomfortably as he waits. When you open it, his breath hitches slightly. Youâre dressed in a stunning silk dress, its fabric clinging perfectly to your frame, and your hair is styled in a neat bun that leaves your neck and shoulders elegantly bare.
For a moment, he forgets why heâs here, caught off guard by how effortlessly beautiful you look.
âCome in,â you say with a faint smile, stepping aside to let him in.
He follows you inside, watching as you glide toward the kitchen, your heels clicking softly on the floor. The table is already set, and Hyunjin can see the attention to detail youâve put into everything.
âDid you get it?â you ask, your tone calm but firm as you begin arranging utensils.
Hyunjin quickly retrieves a small bottle from his pocketâthe sleeping pills you asked forâand hands it to you. You take it without hesitation and tuck it away in one of the kitchen drawers.
âAnything else you need?â Hyunjin offers, his voice tinged with concern.
You glance at him over your shoulder and shake your head. âIâve got it under control. You should go now, before Flint gets here.â
Hyunjin hesitates, standing awkwardly by the counter. âAre you sure? I can stay a little longerââ
You cut him off with a reassuring smile. âIâll be fine. Donât worry. Just be ready for my call when itâs time.â
He nods, but his feet remain rooted to the floor. He canât shake the unease bubbling in his chest. Part of him worries about what Flint might try tonight, and another partâone he doesnât want to acknowledgeâresents the entire situation.
Finally, he sighs and heads for the door, turning back one last time. âBe careful,â he murmurs, his voice quieter than he intended.
You meet his gaze, your expression steady. âI will.â
Reluctantly, Hyunjin leaves, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step away from your apartment.
-
After dinner, Flint takes a leisurely stroll around your small apartment, his curious eyes wandering over the space. You remain in the kitchen, slicing fruit and arranging cheese to go with the wine. Thankfully, you had the foresight to stow away your witchcraft tools earlier, hiding them in the closet where theyâre safely out of sight.
âIt's a small apartment so there's not much to see,â you tell him with a small smile.
âI like it. It's cozy.â Flint responds from across the room.
As you glance over your shoulder, making sure Flintâs attention is elsewhere, you slip two sleeping pills into his glass of wine. Your heart races slightly as the pills dissolve into the deep red liquid, but you maintain your composure. With everything ready, you carry the tray to the living room and place it on the table.
Flint returns to the sofa, smiling as he settles beside you. âYouâve really gone all out,â he says, raising his glass in a toast.
You raise your glass as well, playfully saying. âAnything to impress you.â
You clink glasses with him, forcing a smile, and take a small sip of your own wine while keeping a careful eye on him. As he drinks, you ensure his glass never stays full for long, subtly encouraging him to refill it.
After a while, Flint pulls you closer, draping an arm around you as he begins kissing your neck. You suppress the instinct to recoil and instead lean into his embrace, pretending to enjoy the intimacy. You kiss him back, but your mind is elsewhere, silently urging the sleeping pills to take effect.
When his hands begin to wander, you gently push away, offering an apologetic smile. âI need to use the bathroom,â you say softly, slipping out of his grasp.
He nods, clearly disappointed so you place a quick peck on his lips as consolation. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you take a deep breath, counting the seconds as you hope the pills are working.
After a few minutes, you return to find Flint still sitting on the sofa, though his eyelids are heavy, and his movements sluggish. He looks up at you with a faint smile, oblivious to whatâs happening.
âYou look tired,â you say, sitting beside him and offering your arms. âHere, rest for a bit.â
Flint leans into you, his head resting against your chest as his breathing grows slow and steady. A moment later, heâs fully asleep.
Once youâre certain heâs out cold, you carefully ease him off you and grab your phone. Dialing Hyunjinâs number, you speak in a hushed tone. âItâs time.â
-
Hyunjin doesnât bother knocking; youâre already there, opening the door as if youâve been waiting for him. The moment he steps inside, his eyes land on Flint, sprawled out on the sofa and deeply asleep thanks to the potent sleeping pills Hyunjin sourced from his pharmacist friend. He notices you tidying up the remnants of your staged evening, clearing the glasses and dishes from the coffee table.
âWhat do you need me to do?â Hyunjin asks without preamble, his voice low.
You motion toward the furniture. âHelp me move everything.â
Together, the two of you shift the furniture to the edges of the room. Once the space is cleared, you roll up the carpet, revealing a carefully drawn rune beneath it, etched onto the floor in a pattern that Hyunjin can only describe as intricate and otherworldly.
âLift him,â you say, gesturing to Flint.
Hyunjin doesnât hesitate, though he grits his teeth as he hauls Flintâs limp body off the couch and carries him to the center of the rune. Once Flint is positioned as instructed, you disappear into the bedroom to retrieve more items.
Hyunjinâs gaze lingers on the rune as he waits, a sense of unease creeping into his chest. When you return, youâre carrying an array of tools and objects he canât even begin to identify. Candles, vials, a small chalice, andâmost unsettlingâa dagger.
âSet the candles around the circle and light them,â you instruct, kneeling on the floor as you arrange your witchcraft materials.
Hyunjin obeys, carefully placing the candles at specific points around the rune and lighting them one by one. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the room, the atmosphere growing heavier with each passing second. He finishes and steps back, watching as you lay your tools in front of you and take a deep, steadying breath.
âAnything else?â he asks, though the tension in his voice is clear.
You glance up at him briefly. âStep back. I need to start.â
Hyunjin retreats to the edge of the room, leaning against the wall as he watches you. Heâs never been one to believe in witchcraft or rituals, but something about the way you move, the focus in your eyes, makes him hesitate.
You begin chanting, your voice low and rhythmic, as you add ingredients one by one to the chalice. Hyunjin watches as you pour liquids, crush herbs, and sprinkle powders, each action deliberate and precise. Then, you take the dagger, holding it with a calm determination that makes his stomach churn.
Without hesitation, you press the blade against your palm, cutting deep enough for blood to bead and then flow freely. You ball your hand into a fist, letting the blood drip steadily into the chalice. Hyunjin stiffens, torn between stepping in and letting you continue.
As the blood mingles with the other ingredients, you set the chalice on the floor and light a small flame beneath it. The mixture begins to burn, smoke curling upward as you chant louder, your voice rising with each repetition.
Hyunjinâs unease deepens as the room seems to shift around him. The air grows thick, pressing against his skin, and the flickering candlelight feels almost alive. He tries to convince himself itâs just his imagination, but he canât shake the feeling that something is happening.
Hyunjin watches in tense silence as you place the chalice at the heart of the rune, the contents still smoldering. You close your eyes, steadying your breathing as you stretch your arms outward, the dagger still held tightly in one hand. Then, in a language that sounds ancient and otherworldly, you begin the incantation:
"To the peace of death, I call you forth. Let your life fuel my flame. Through natural fate, this path unfolds. From blood and soul, my magic returns to me."
Your voice resonates, starting low but growing with intensity. Each word seems to ripple through the room, vibrating in Hyunjinâs chest like an unearthly hum. The candles, though extinguished, seem to glow faintly, the runes on the floor pulsing with a strange energy.
You move to the chalice, gripping it tightly, and continue the spell, your voice now echoing as if the words are being spoken in tandem by someoneâor somethingâelse:
"From the shadows of this world, I draw the light. Flint Hargrave, I take your life. Nature shall not see this as betrayal. For your soul becomes my tool."
Hyunjin canât look away as you pour the remaining contents of the chalice over the center of the rune, the liquid sizzling against the air as if it were molten. A deep rumble vibrates beneath his feet, subtle at first but growing stronger.
Then, gripping the dagger tightly, you press it against your palm once more, fresh blood dripping onto the circle as you chant the final, most powerful lines:
"My blood, your blood. I give life to reclaim my magic. Let my soul be eternal. And let your death appear as natureâs will."
The air explodes with energy as the rune flares to life, a bright, unnatural light illuminating the room. Flintâs body jerks as if an invisible force is gripping him. His chest rises once in a shallow breath before his entire body relaxes, utterly still.
Hyunjin shivers as the room goes deathly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of dying embers from the chalice. The energy in the air feels different nowâcharged and alive, yet cold and foreboding.
You rise slowly, wiping the blood from your hand onto a cloth as you look over your shoulder at Hyunjin. For a moment, he sees something in your eyesâa glint of power, or perhaps something darker.
âItâs done,â you announce.
Hyunjin stares at you, uncertain of what he just witnessed but knowing, without a doubt, that something far more significant than a simple ritual has taken place.
-
You and Hyunjin are moving the furniture back into place, the room slowly returning to normal. Hyunjin keeps glancing at your hand, his brows furrowed as his eyes linger on the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around it.
âJust a small cut,â you assure him, catching his concern. âIâll handle it later.â
Hyunjin doesnât look convinced but says nothing as you direct him to help move Flint to your bed. He pauses, clearly uncomfortable. âWhy not just leave him on the sofa? Heâs out cold. He wonât even notice.â
âItâs better if it looks like we slept together,â you reply, your tone even and practical. âIt makes the story more believable.â
Hyunjin mutters something under his breath but follows your instructions, carefully lifting Flintâs limp form and carrying him to your bed. As he starts undoing Flintâs tie and unbuttoning his shirt, he glances upâand freezes.
Across the room, you're changing out of your dress, slipping into a silk nightgown that clings to your form. The dim light casts shadows that highlight every curve, and for a moment, Hyunjin finds himself staring at the bare expanse of your back. His throat tightens as unease washes over him.
He quickly looks away, focusing on pulling the blankets over Flintâs body.
âYou okay over there?â you ask, your tone light but teasing as you tie the straps of your gown.
Hyunjin clears his throat, his voice coming out a bit strained. âYeah, just... making sure everything looks convincing.â
Once Flint is settled, Hyunjin hesitates by the doorway, his fingers twitching at his sides. âAre you sure thereâs nothing else I can do?â
âNothing left but to wait,â you say, brushing a hand over your hair as you settle into the chair by your vanity.
Hyunjin nods slowly, his jaw tightening. His eyes flicker to the cloth on your hand again, and his uneasiness spills into his words. âJust uh... take care of that cut, okay?â
âI will,â you reply softly, offering him a faint smile.
Reluctantly, Hyunjin turns to leave, his footsteps heavy as he makes his way out of your apartment. As the door closes behind him, a strange silence settles over the room, leaving you alone with Flintâand the heavy weight of what youâve just done.
-
The sleeping pills must be far stronger than you anticipated because Flint sleeps through the entire morning. His phone vibrates on the nightstand for what feels like the hundredth time, the name "Assistant" flashing on the screen. You sigh, brushing your hair out of your face as you glance at the time.
Climbing onto the bed, you carefully settle yourself next to him, your movements deliberate and gentle. Leaning over, you softly shake his shoulder. "Flint," you say, your voice light and melodic. "Time to wake up."
He stirs, letting out a small groan before squinting up at you. His eyes struggle to focus, confusion flickering across his face.
You smile warmly, tilting your head. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you sweetly greet, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. "Your phoneâs been ringing non-stop. I think your assistantâs starting to worry youâve dropped off the face of the earth. If you donât pick up, theyâll probably assume youâre dead."
That earns a groggy chuckle from him as he sits up, rubbing his face. He grabs his phone and answers it briefly, mumbling reassurances before hanging up.
When his gaze finally returns to you, his brows knit together slightly. âWhat... happened?â he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
You let out a light laugh, reaching out to straighten the rumpled sheets around him. âOh, come on!â you tease, feigning a hint of hurt. âI canât believe you donât remember. We had such a good time last night.â
He blinks, his confusion shifting to realization as he looks down, noticing for the first time that heâs naked under the blanket. His eyes widen slightly, and a slow smirk creeps onto his lips.
You giggle, playfully running a hand through your hair. âDonât worry, Iâll let you take your time piecing it together,â you say, slipping off the bed with a practiced grace.
âFor now, how about breakfast?â
As you walk toward the kitchen, a quiet, satisfied smile graces your lips. Inside, youâre celebrating your triumph. Everything is moving perfectly according to plan.
-
Three days have passed, and Hyunjin finds himself pacing his apartment, his mind restless. The uncertainty gnaws at him, a constant hum of tension in the back of his thoughts. Heâs not sure how long the spell takes to workâor if itâs even working at all.
His mind circles back to you, as it often does these days. He worries about you being stuck in this fabricated relationship with Flint if things donât go as planned. Worse, he canât shake the thought that you might have to keep playing along indefinitely, enduring Flintâs company far longer than you should.
Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. Itâs not just his own career hanging by a threadâitâs yours too. The weight of it all feels suffocating.
The sudden ringing of his phone snaps him out of his thoughts. Glancing at the screen, he sees the office number flashing and hesitates for a moment before answering.
âYes?â he says, trying to keep his voice steady.
âWe need you to come in tomorrow for further examination,â the voice on the other end informs him. âPlease be on time.â
Hyunjinâs grip tightens around his phone. âIâll be there,â he says, keeping his response curt before hanging up.
He stares at the phone in his hand, unsure of how to feel. Does this mean things are moving forward, or is it just another step in prolonging his uncertainty? He canât tell if this is a good sign or a bad one. What he does know is that his future remains unclearâand yours feels equally bleak.
On the way to your apartment, as he waits for the traffic light to turn, Hyunjin catches sight of Flintâs car pulling up in front of your building. He sees you step out, Flint following to open the door for you. Flint leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips before returning to his car.
From where Hyunjin stands, he canât see your expression. He canât tell how much effort itâs taking you to keep up the charade. Hyunjin clenches his fists and forces himself to calm down as he crosses the street.
When you open the door for him, youâre as composed as ever. You step aside, letting him in like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
But as he looks at you, something feels off. Thereâs no spark of confidence in your eyes, none of the determination youâd had when you first presented this plan.
âDo you think itâs working?â he asks cautiously.
You hesitate. Your gaze flickers to the floor, then back to him, and he feels the weight of your silence before you even speak.
âThereâs a chance itâs not working,â you admit quietly. âIâve⌠lost my magic.â
Hyunjin blinks, the words taking a moment to sink in. âWhat do you mean youâve lost it?â
You press your lips together, avoiding his gaze. âI did something. Something that cost me my power.â
Hyunjinâs brows knit together, his unease mounting. âAnd youâre only telling me this now?â His voice is steady, but thereâs an edge to it.
You look at him, guilt etched into your features. âI didnât know how to tell you. Iââ You pause, then force the words out. âI cast a spell on you, Hyunjin.â
The room feels colder all of a sudden, and Hyunjin steps back, staring at you. âWhat?â
âI used my magic on you,â you say, voice trembling. âAnd I gave up my powers in exchange for being able to revoke it.â
Hyunjin stands there, frozen, trying to process what youâve just told him. His mind flashes through your time together, questioning every moment, every interaction. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. The betrayal, the shock, the confusionâitâs all too much.
Finally, he looks at you again, his expression unreadable. âYou⌠cast a spell on me?â His voice is quiet, strained.
You nod, guilt heavy in your eyes. "I didnât know it would lead to this."
Hyunjin turns away, running a hand through his hair. He doesnât leave, but he doesnât speak either, his mind spinning as he tries to come to terms with what youâve just confessed.
-
When Hyunjin shows up at your door, his expression says everything before he even speaks. He steps inside, and you prepare yourself. After the initial pleasantries, he asks the question you knew was coming.
âYou⌠cast a spell on me?â
The moment hangs heavy between you, and you realize thereâs no way out of this. You have to tell him everything. So you do. You confess to casting a love spell on him, to manipulating his feelings. You explain how you sacrificed your magic to undo the damage, thinking it was the only way to make things right.
As you speak, you watch the light in his eyes dim, the distance between you growing with each word. You can feel him slipping away from you all over again, and it makes your heart ache in a way you hadnât thought possible.
When you finish, silence fills the space between you. Hyunjin doesnât say a word, his expression unreadable. You donât know if heâs upset, angry, or simply in shock.
You force yourself to look at him, your voice trembling as you speak. âIâll understand if you want nothing to do with me. I promise Iâll stay away from you.â
He doesnât respond, his silence louder than any words he could have said. Finally, he turns toward the door, and you realize this might be the end. The final goodbye.
âWait,â you say, your voice cracking.
Hyunjin pauses, his hand on the doorknob, but he doesnât turn to face you. You rush to your bedroom, grabbing something from a small box tucked away in the corner. When you return, you hold out a talisman.
âI know youâre being called to the office tomorrow,â you say, your voice soft. âPlease, take this.â
He takes it from you without a word, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment before he steps out of your apartment.
As the door clicks shut, you stare at the empty space where he stood, the sound of your whispered âGoodbyeâ barely audible even to yourself.
-
Hyunjinâs head feels like a chaotic storm, each thought crashing into the next, leaving him unable to focus. The talisman you gave him is tucked into his pocket, but he hasnât thought much about it since leaving your apartment. Right now, none of it seems to matter. Not the examination, not his job, not even the mess heâs left behind with you.
As he sits in the cold, sterile interrogation room, he stares blankly at the table, his mind drifting. Heâs been waiting here for nearly an hour now, and the oppressive silence only amplifies the noise in his head.
Maybe I should just resign, he thinks bitterly. Spare them the trouble. Whatâs the point of dragging this out?
He starts tapping his fingers on the table impatiently, muttering under his breath. âWhatâs taking so long? Are they trying to torture me or what?â
The door finally creaks open, and a staff member steps in. Hyunjin straightens up, expecting the examination to finally begin.
âSorry for the delay,â the man says, his tone formal. âI'm afraid we need to reschedule the examination.â
Hyunjinâs eyebrows shoot up. âReschedule? What? Why?â
The man hesitates, looking uncomfortable. âNews just broke out... CEO Flint has passed away.â
Hyunjinâs fingers abruptly stops tapping the table and he freezes on his seat. âWhat?â
âItâs all over the office,â the man continues. âApparently, it was a sudden heart attack.â
Hyunjinâs mind blanks for a moment. Flint is dead. The words echo in his head, feeling surreal.
âA sudden heart attack,â he repeats slowly, almost as if testing how it sounds.
âYes. Iâm sure more information will come out soon, but for now, the office is in chaos.â
The man leaves the room, but Hyunjin barely notices. His hands rest on the table, fingers tightening into fists as the weight of the situation sinks in.
The spell worked.
His heart feels heavy, a mixture of relief, shock, and guilt flooding his system. Hyunjin isnât sure what to feel. Flint is gone, and the dark cloud looming over his and your lives has lifted, but at what cost?
-
Itâs been a week since the news about Flintâs sudden death, and Hyunjinâs been reinstated with a clean slate, or at least thatâs how it seems. No conclusive evidence, no real suspicion, and here he is, back in his seat, his career still intact.
He should be relieved, he knows that. He should be celebrating that the spell worked, that Flint is gone, and heâs free from the twisted situation that had him tangled up in it all. But instead, thereâs this hollow feeling gnawing at him, and it's impossible to ignore.
With a sigh, Hyunjin pulls the talisman from his pocket. The small object feels heavier in his hand now, its meaning no longer as simple as a mere piece of luck. This was supposed to be his victoryâhis triumph. The key to his freedom. And yet, all he feels is sadness.
His fingers trace over the edges of the charm, memories of the nights spent with you flooding back. The time he spent with you felt like an illusion now, a dream thatâs shattered. Heâs angry, of course, at the deceit. You cast a spell on him, used magic to manipulate him without his knowledge. He didnât even have a chance to choose. Betrayed, he feels the sting of that truth, raw and cutting.
But underneath that anger is something else, something he canât shake. A deep sense of loss. He canât understand it. Why does he feel this way?
"I got what I wanted," he murmurs to himself, his voice tinged with bitterness. "So why does it feel like Iâve lost everything?"
The bustling noise of the office around him fades into the background as his thoughts consume him. He wants to hate you for what you did. He wants to walk away and leave everything behind. But he canât.
Because no matter how hard he tries, a part of him still cares for you. And that part of him canât stop wondering if he made a mistake when he walked out of your apartment that night.
-
You take a deep breath as you gather the remnants of Flint's presence in your apartmentâthe items he touched, the things tainted by his energy. One by one, you place them in a bag, careful not to let your emotions creep back in. Itâs not just about removing his physical traces; itâs about banishing the negativity that still lingers, suffocating your space.
With the bag clutched tightly, you step outside to a safe spot and set it ablaze. The flames crackle and hiss, consuming every last fragment. You whisper under your breath, a spell to release the darkness.
"By light of stars and flame of sun. Cleanse this space; let harm be none. All shadows fade, all ill be gone. This is my will; let peace be won. So mote it be."
The fire dies down, leaving behind nothing but ash. You exhale deeply, feeling a small weight lift from your chest.
Back in your apartment, the air still feels heavy, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You draw yourself a bath, infusing the water with a few drops of essential oilsâlavender for peace, eucalyptus for clarity. As the warm water embraces you, you feel a subtle shift in your energy.
Once submerged, you whisper another spell, letting your voice carry into the water:
"From root to crown, from heart to soul. Let purity and light take hold. All dark removed, all wounds made whole. By power divine, restore control. So mote it be."
The words resonate through you, calming your mind. You close your eyes and let the spell do its work, envisioning the negativity dissolving into the water. You imagine it swirling away, leaving you lighter, clearer.
When the bath is done, you step out feeling renewed, wrapping yourself in a soft towel. The final step is to cleanse the air around you. You light a white candle and carry it through each room, whispering the same purification spell for the space. As the soft glow illuminates the corners, you feel the lingering shadows retreat.
Finally, you sit in the center of your living room, lighting a bundle of sage. The smoke curls into the air, spiraling upwards, carrying away the last traces of darkness. You speak firmly:
"This space is mine; it is sacred and free. No harm may enter; no ill may be. Only light and love dwell here with me. So mote it be."
The silence that follows feels comforting, like an embrace. You smile faintly, knowing youâve taken the first step to reclaim your life and your peace. But before you can fully settle, thereâs a knock at the door.
Hyunjin.
You debate ignoring it, letting the past stay behind that door, but the longing within you wins. Wrapping yourself in your robe, you pad to the door and open it.
There he is, standing on your doorstep, a faint, hesitant smile playing on his lips. Itâs not the expression you expectedâno anger, no bitterness, just something softer, something unsure.
âCan I come in?â he asks, his voice quiet but steady.
You nod, stepping aside to let him in. You donât trust yourself to speak, afraid of what might spill out if you try.
The air feels heavy as you stand in the doorway, watching Hyunjin step inside. His presence stirs up emotions youâve been trying to suppress for days. His smile is soft, but thereâs a nervous energy about him, as though heâs unsure of what heâs doing here.
âI didnât see you at work,â he starts, his voice light, as if trying to mask the tension. âThought Iâd check in. You know, make sure you werenât... taking days off as a grieving girlfriend for Flint.â
His attempt at humor makes your chest tighten, but you canât bring yourself to respond. You cross your arms, standing stiffly as he slowly moves around your space, his eyes scanning the room like heâs committing every detail to memory.
When he finally stops, his gaze locks onto yours. His expression shifts, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper. âWhy did you revoke the love spell?â
The question hits you like a wave. You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. Part of you wants to avoid it, to bury the truth even deeper, but you know he deserves to hear it.
You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. âBecause I love you,â you admit, your voice trembling. âToo much to keep you like that.â
The confession spills out, leaving you vulnerable in a way you havenât been before. Tears threaten to blur your vision, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.
Hyunjin steps closer, his eyes searching yours. âYou remember everything, donât you? From when I was under the spell?â
You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. âEverything.â
âThen why didnât you say anything?â he presses, his voice tinged with both frustration and hurt.
âI tried,â you choke out, tears now freely falling. âI tried so many times but you... you hate me too much.â
Your voice cracks, and you look away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. Every word feels like a dagger to your heart, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.
Suddenly, Hyunjin closes the distance between you. His hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. The tenderness in his touch makes you crumble, and you canât stop the sobs from escaping.
âYou shouldâve told me,â he whispers, his voice soft now, almost pained.
Before you can respond, his lips are on yours. The kiss is gentle yet urgent, a mix of longing and regret. You melt into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he might vanish if you let go.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the ache in your chest subsides, replaced by the warmth of his embrace.
-
Tracing every curve of your body feels like a trip back to his favorite place. Hyunjin may not remember it but he knows, he's been here before and it brings out that sense of belonging. He uses his hands, his lips to retrace the steps and as he puts his body on top of you, his body fits yours like two pieces of puzzle.
âHow can I forget such beautiful body?â He mutters with a gentle kiss on your navel.
He continues the kisses upward until his lips reunite with yours again and each kiss he plants is harder and longer than the previous one. One hand glides down your front and not stopping until his fingers meet your wet sex.
Intrigued by the delicate flesh, Hyunjin looks down as he pushes his slender fingers inside you, he watches as you take them and his eyes widen at how you clench around them. He gulps air before saying, âYou know how to get me impatient.â
Slowly, he pulls his two fingers and not wasting time to shove them into his mouth, his luscious lips wrapped around his fingers as he sucks, hard.
âHow can I forgot this sweet, sweet taste.â His voice is so low it's almost like a whisper.
His patience runs thin. He parts your legs wider and positions himself in between. While stroking his cock in his hand, Hyunjinâs intense eyes fixated on yours and the way he can see the want in your eyes... he's stroking his cock faster than before.
Hyunjin canât waste another second just looking at your gushing cunt and let it tantalizing him the longer he looks at it. He holds the side of your thighs after placing his cock in your wetness, he begins rocking his hips back and forth, rubbing his length in between your slit and at the same time, smearing your essence all over it.
âFucking goodness!â He breathlessly says with his deep, heavy voice, tinted with hurries.
Hyunjin glides his hands down to your hips and holds you still as he pushes his cock, his eyes fixated on watching his length disappearing into you little by little. He unconsciously holds his breathe watching you take it, the size, the girth, and the veins coiling around it.
The moment he's fully sheathed inside you, Hyunjin drops his head into the crook of your neck. With his mouth resting so close to your ear, you can hear his raw, low groans. After a moment of composing himself, Hyunjin hovers above you, a hand cupping your jaw.
âTell me, mmh?â He hastily kisses your lips in between sentences. âTell me how can I forgot this tightness, this... fucking good pussy?â
Hyunjin props his hands on each side of you as he begins moving his hips, slowly and deliberately, his eyes fluttering shut as if he can't comprehend the sensation of each his movement caused.
âOh, fucking...â He can't even finish his sentence but pulls out of you immediately. He knows that if he's inside you for a second longer, he'll lost it.
He frowns at the detachment and makes up for it by kissing you, placing his lips on every inch of skin available to him that breathing becomes unnecessary to him. Hungry for more skin to kiss, he flips you over, one hand holding you down by the nape of the neck as his plush lips peppering your back with soft yet searing kisses.
âHow are you so soft all over?â His voice filled with disbelief but he doesnât necessarily needs an answer from you as he plants his mouth on the base of your spine.
He makes use of his other hand to fondle your ass cheeks and from there, it's making its way back to your cunt, fingers teasing around your entrance, making it wet as he's ready to penetrate again.
On his second attempt, Hyunjin has better self control, he takes a deep breathe once he's fully buried inside you and then slowly, he lays on top of you, his chest meeting your back, skin to skin.
Lying face down with your head on the pillow, he puts all of your hair to the side and then presses a gentle kiss on the column of your throat. With utmost carefulness, Hyunjin begins thrusting from behind you and the skin slapping sounds filling the room.
Putting his hand around your neck, he tilts your head to the back until your eyes meet his. âYou feel so fucking good, do you know that?â A smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he says it.
You only nod as you innocently gaze into his eyes and lowly moaning to his thrusts, arousing him more than he expected. You drop your head to the side, leaning against his forearm as he intently watches your facial expressions ever changing as the pleasure mounting inside you.
âYou're close, mmh, beautiful?â He's picking up the pace but he asks you so sweetly.
Your wide-eyed gaze lingers on him as you lick your lips and nod.
Hyunjin canât help himself but kisses your open mouth as he feels you tightening around his cock and plants a lingering peck on your lips. âI'm not going to stop until you come around my cock.â
He takes your hand and laces it together as he closes the gap between your bodies, his hips not slowing down even for a moment, determined to give you your release.
âHyunjin...â you softly whine.
It's hard to ignore how you tighten around him, how you're sucking him deeper into yours as you hit your climax. He holds on to his last shred of self control to not lose it there. He wants to make this lasts for as long as possible.
As you're dealing with the waves of pleasure lapping over you, Hyunjin places kisses on your neck and shoulders, eventually your lips as satisfed moans spilling out of your parted lips. He holds you close and as he maneuvers himself to lay back on the mattress.
Giving you a moment of rest, Hyunjin uses the time to cuddle you, wrapped his muscular arms around you and stays like that as you're relishing your orgasm.
You turn your head to the back to face him, demanding a kiss from him and he gives it without a doubt, pressing a kiss on your lips.
The sheet is a crumpled mess as you bodies slithering together, limbs all over each other, touching, squeezing, pressing... it doesnât take long to get you hot all over again.
Hyunjin reluctantly lets go one of his hands busy fondling your breasts and lowering it to your core, rubbing your clit that engorges the more he stimulates it. If only his mouth was resting close to it, he'd suck on it. He uses his fingers instead, pinching it in between, earning a soft gasp from you.
âHyunjin,â you softly call his name. âPut it back in.â
In response, Hyunjin hastily kisses your lips. âWith pleasure.â
In the midst of him thrusting you from behind, you lift your leg and put it over his thigh, providing him more depth and allowing him to continue circling your clit to give you extra stimulation.
His lips keep lathering yours and he likes how your moans spilling into his mouth, hot and sultry, and at times, he doesnât stop himself from playfully sucks on your tongue.
âKeep clenching around me like that and I'm going to... oh, cum a lot inside you,â he finishes his sentence with a haste kiss on your lips. âIs what where you want it, mmh? Inside?â
You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close for a kiss. âInside. Yes.â
âThank fuck!â He playfully curses against your lips. âCause I don't think I'd be able to pull out right in time.â
With that being said, Hyunjin moves at such ease, trying to delay his high as long as possible and savoring every second of it, his arms tightening around you as he thrusts into you slowly yet with such intensity that makes your body squirms in reaction.
His head is buried deep in your neck as he incessantly moving to chase his high and when he finally comes undone, he holds you tightly.
With his head still clouded with overwhelming pleasure, you bring his hand that is resting between your legs to your mouth and he watches as you take each one of his fingers into your mouth, sucking it with your eyes closed. Once you're done with all the five fingers, you bring his hand down to your breast to fondle it together with him.
You turn your head to the side to capture his lips in yours and Hyunjin likes every bit of this moment. The intimacy, the tenderness of it all, you.
He slightly pulls away from the kiss to say. âI don't want to forget this.â
Lying beside you in the quiet stillness of your bedroom, Hyunjin feels a rare sense of peace. He pulls you closer, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His gaze softens as it meets yours, and he notices how the faint glow of moonlight highlights the lingering sadness in your expression.
Without thinking, his hand reaches for yours, his thumb brushing over the tender scar on your palm. Itâs a reminder of the ritual you performed, the night everything began to shift.
His voice is soft as he asks, âDoes it still hurt?â
You shake your head, your lips curving into the smallest of smiles. But Hyunjinâs heart aches all the same. Slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred skin. The simple act feels more intimate than anything heâs done before, as though heâs sealing his own unspoken promise.
Thereâs something stirring in himâan ache, a yearning, a strange sense of dĂŠjĂ vu. Itâs like his heart remembers moments his mind refuses to recall, fragments of the love spell that linger despite everything. As he holds you, Hyunjin begins to wonder if the spell merely amplified something that was already there.
His voice breaks the silence as he sees the tenderness in the way you gaze at him. âWhat are you thinking?â
You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching his face, before answering quietly. âDo you still hate me?â
Hyunjin laughs softly, shaking his head and then presses a kiss on your lips.
âNo,â he says, his voice warm and reassuring. âNot even close.â
-
Your mornings have become a ritual of their own. The day always begins earlier now, with Hyunjin beside you. The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, illuminating his peaceful expression as he lies next to you. Itâs a moment you savor before the world demands the façade of professionalism youâve both agreed to maintain.
Hyunjin stirs, pulling you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. âJust five more minutes,â he mumbles, his voice husky with sleep.
You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. âOnly five,â you tease, knowing full well itâll stretch longer.
Soon, what started as lazy cuddles turns into a heating moment of your bodies pressed so close together and a little later, he has you around him.
You're straddling him on the bed with both feet planted against the mattress as a leverage, allowing you to bounce on his cock. His hands resting on each side of your waist, angling your body and at the same time, guiding your movements.
Hyunjinâs mouth is full of your flesh, his tongue circling around your nipple before sucking it as hard as he could. His eyes are wide and dark with lust, looking up at you with his mouth gaping open.
âKeep going, baby.â He sweetly mutters with a haste kiss on your neck and jaw. âFuck me good. Drain me.â
Instead of adding speed, you choose to keep the steady pace but you switch to roll your hips while intentionally clenching around him. You like watching him overwhelmed by pleasure, his mouth gaping open with raw groans spilling out of it.
When he finally cum around you, you hold his gaze and watch as pleasure filled his eyes. Hyunjin tightens his hold around you and draws you close as he releases his seed inside you. His lips begin to plant kisses on your skin, shoulder, chest, neck and then he traces down your jaw with his plush lips before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.
âIt's been more than five minutes, â you playfully say and he looks so beautiful as you cradle his face in your hands that you can't help but kiss his red, full lips.
He shakes his head and wrapping his arms tightly around you. âStay. Don't pull away yet.â
His hand glides up to the nape of your neck, allowing him to angle your head as he pleases as he leans in for a long, lingering kiss that takes your breath away. He smiles when he breaks the kiss and keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he jokingly says, âYou didnât put me under a spell again, right?â
You loop your arms around his neck and play with the tendrils of hair on the back of his head. âEven if I did, it's a spell to make you less clingy around me.â
Hyunjin lets out a low chuckle but it's enough to make his eyes form two crescent moons. âAre you sure it's not the other way around?â
âA hundred percent sure.â You place a long peck on his lips as he reciprocates with a longer one.
âWe should do it.â Hyunjin says out of the blue.
You blink at him, confused. âDo what?â
âI saw it on your spellbook,â Hyunjin says, his gaze steady and unwavering. âThe one that binds our souls together.â
Your reaction is immediateâyour eyes widen in shock, and you shake your head. âNo,â you say firmly. âYou donât have to do something like that. You don't have to prove anything.â
âItâs not about proving anything,â Hyunjin says, sitting up slightly so he can look at you more directly.
âItâs about not forgetting. I donât want to lose thisâor youâagain. If thereâs even a chance it could happenâŚâ He trails off, his voice softening. âI want to remember. All of it.â
You sit up as well, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and concern. âHyunjin, this isnât something to take lightly. Our souls would be connected forever. You donât want to do this.â
But Hyunjin has already made up his mind. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. âI know what I want,â he says gently. âAnd itâs you. So if this is the way to keep you, then letâs do it.â
His resolve is unwavering, and though doubt flickers in your eyes, Hyunjin knows youâll agree. You love him, and youâve already sacrificed so much to be with him. Now, itâs his turn to choose you.
-
Reluctantly, you flip through your spellbook, finding the ritual you hadnât dared to consider before. The process is simple, yet the weight of its meaning is anything but. You scan the instructions one last time and gather what you need: a spool of red thread and the candles from your altar.
The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of flickering candlelight dancing against the walls. Youâve drawn the rune onto the floor with meticulous care, the ancient symbol connecting you both to the magic youâre about to invoke. Sitting across from each other inside the rune, you watch Hyunjinâs face, searching for any sign of hesitation.
âAre you absolutely sure you want to do this?â you ask, your voice quiet but firm.
âIâm sure,â he says, his gaze steady and unwavering.
âThis is permanent,â you remind him one last time as you hold the spellbook in your hands. âOnce our souls are bound, thereâs no undoing it.â
Hyunjin meets your gaze, his expression calm but resolute. âI know,â he says.
You nod, swallowing the knot of nerves in your throat, and reach for his hands. Theyâre warm and steady as they clasp yours, his touch grounding you as you prepare for whatâs to come.
With slow, deliberate movements, you begin to wrap the red thread around your joined hands, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as you secure the bond. The thread feels heavier than it should, its weight symbolic of the promise youâre making to each other.
You take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting the words of the spell flow from your lips like a soft melody:
âThread of fate, bond of soul. Tie us together, make us whole. Heart to heart, spirit to spirit. Forever bound, no end or limit.â
The candles around you flicker, their flames growing taller as the magic begins to take hold. The air feels charged, alive with energy, and you open your eyes to see Hyunjin watching you intently.
âRepeat after me,â you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.
Hyunjin nods, his voice strong and clear as he echoes your words, completing the incantation:
âThread of fate, bond of soul. Tie us together, make us whole. Heart to heart, spirit to spirit. Forever bound, no end or limit.â
As the final words of the spell fall from his lips, you both feel itâthe shift, the connection, the unexplainable pull that tells you the ritual has worked.
You look up at Hyunjin, your hands still bound by the red thread. His gaze is soft, almost reverent, and without thinking, the two of you lean toward each other. Your lips meet in a kiss that feels different from any youâve shared before. Itâs not just a kissâitâs a vow, a seal, a promise etched into the very fabric of your beings.
When you finally pull back, the red thread glows faintly for a moment before fading into nothing, leaving only the warmth of Hyunjinâs touch and the knowledge that your souls are nowâand foreverâbound.
For better or for worse, you are his, and he is yours.
-
When the day finally begins, itâs with a shared rhythm. A warm shower where water cascades over tangled limbs, soft laughter echoing off the tiles. Breakfast at the table, the mundane act of eating transformed into something tender in the quiet intimacy you share.
Hyunjin always leaves first, heading home to change before work. You watch him go, knowing youâll see him soon. True to habit, the two of you arrive at the office at almost the same time.
In the elevator, itâs a delicate dance. The veneer of professionalism must remain intact, yet the shared glances and sly smiles betray the connection between you. Thereâs a thrill in the secrecy, a spark that makes each stolen moment feel more precious.
As the elevator chimes at Hyunjinâs floor, he steps out, turning to flash you a smile just before the doors close. Itâs small, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to you, itâs everything.
When the elevator resumes its ascent, you find yourself smiling too. But itâs not just the thought of Hyunjin that occupies your mind. As you glance at your hands, you feel itâthe power surging beneath your skin, stronger than ever.
The binding ritual didnât just intertwine your soul with Hyunjinâs. It did something more. It restored what you thought you had lost, your magic power returning with a force you hadnât expected. The price? Flintâs soul.
You tell yourself it wasnât intentional, that his death appearing so natural was merely an unforeseen consequence. Yet deep down, you know the truth.
The sacrifice wasnât accidental. It was necessary.
Now, youâre more powerful than ever. Hyunjin doesnât know, and perhaps he doesnât need to. What matters is that your soul is bound to his, and with your magic restored, you can ensure it stays that way.
You clench your hands into fists, feeling the hum of energy within. For the first time in a long time, youâre not afraid. Not of Flint, not of losing Hyunjin, not of anything.
This is your world now. And youâll do whatever it takes to protect it.
âWith fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.â
-
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vii. deer dolly
see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form
Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.
"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."
"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.
"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.
"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Ëŕ¨ŕ§ââą
You woke with a startle.
Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.
A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.
"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.
Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.
As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.
"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.
Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.
"No, not at all," you replied.
"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"
Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.
Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.
"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.
Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.
"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"
The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.
"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but⌠I'm not interested."
Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.
"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."
Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.
This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.
Who knows what was even in your contract?
"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"
"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.
"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."
"Ohâ" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.
A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husbandâboth of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.
Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.
"And here we are!"
Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.
Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.
"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"
Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.
As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.
"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.
"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.
"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.
Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"
"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."
"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.
Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."
Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.
No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.
You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
"Let's seeâŚ" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.
Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.
"Makeup!"
Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.
Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.
"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you thinkâSatan!"
Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.
Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.
Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.
As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.
Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.
Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.
"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.
But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.
"Is he⌠okay?"
Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."
"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.
As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."
Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.
The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.
"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.
Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.
Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.
âAlright.â
Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.
"Let's see what you've got.â
Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.
I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin
With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.
Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his backâ
Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.
The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.
"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.
"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.
A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.
"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.
"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"
"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I⌠suppose so."
"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"
Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.
"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."
In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.
"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.
"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.
Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"
"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.
"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"
âThat piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?â Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. âThe ungrateful whore!â
"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?â Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.
"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.
You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.
âFuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,â Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. âCome on."
Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.
The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.
"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.
"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.
"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.
As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.
"I told ya, I didn't mean toâ," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.
He stared at you, wide-eyed.
Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.
For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle
"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.
Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.
"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.
Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.
Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.
"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"
"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.
Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.
"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.
Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.
"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."
Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've⌠ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"
Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"
Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.
"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"
"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll beâ" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."
Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."
The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"
With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.
"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."
Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."
"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."
Ëŕ¨ŕ§ââą
"NO!"
Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"
Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."
"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.
"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I meanâwhy did you even bother?"
"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"
Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.
"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"
Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.
Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.
"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"
"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."
Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"
"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."
Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.
After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.
"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."
With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.
"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!â Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.
"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"
Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."
Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.
Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.
"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."
"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."
Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.
A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.
"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."
"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.
Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.
There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.
"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.
"Would you be so kind as toâŚ" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.
"âexplainâŚ" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.
"âwhat exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping fleshâor in this case, wiresâwith ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.
"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."
Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.
"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.
Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.
"Get in there, and see for ya'self."
Ëŕ¨ŕ§ââą
#im sorry for the shitty filler chapter :(( this was for the pacing and so i can prepare yall for the next chapter#sephiewrites#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#hazbin x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel velvette
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TF 141 X Reader (Apocalypse!AU)
Immune: Seven
WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 Series (MDNI)
CW: Humping, nipple play, groping, brief female masturbation, oral sex (m receiving)
Taglist: @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum
Masterlist
Thick streaks of due simmered down the window panes, globs cascading and collecting at the wooden frame, moulding the inside before it eventually rots away.
The patter against the roof was gentle, calming, almost like a hushed lullaby that succumbed the house to a deep slumber, one that was needed. You found yourself stumbling back to the house a while after your time with Gaz, the Sergeant blabbering about what life was like for him before all of this happened, how rough it was being in the military and how sometimes he felt even the apocalypse was less depressing.
The kitchen smelt like beef stock and thickened gravy, raw deer meat filtering through the padded walls as you walked in on Price, gruff grin on his face as he ordered around Soap who ushered to his every move.
You observed them for a second, taking in how much respect and authority they upheld for the oldest man. He called, they answered. In a way, it was endearing to watch. Even out of the field, they still admired their well-earned ranks.
âYou enjoy yourself, doll?â John quipped towards you, smug smile adorning his worn features, age mellowing him like fine wine. You rolled your eyes in a playful manner, shrugging off the suggestive tone. It was still new to you, and in a way you donât think you would ever get used to it. Any of it.
âWhat are you making?â
John loved the way you spoke, your voice a mellow honey, seeping through the grit of your teeth and rolling off the fat of your tongue, lips drenched with your saliva, the top of your mouth coiling upwards slightly when you were amused but attempted to hide it.
You held a certain glow to you, a deafening feeling that ached away at them all even during the shortage of knowing you. Almost captivating, you were a simplicity in a world full of horrors and maybe thatâs why they grew so fond of you so fast.
âHad a spare bag of rice tuckâd away in Simonâs bag, brute onlâ just went through it. Dirty bastard, that one,â Soap joked, voice cracking with the disguise of his accent that blurred any coherence of certain words, âItâs rice and deer tânight, hen. That good tâ you?â
You smiled, nodding, âDo you need help?â
âI woulâ never deny a fine ladyâs help,â the man winked, ushering you over as John rolled his eyes at the flirtatious Sergeant. Gaz scurried away upstairs, Price following, you presumed to change clothes, but truth be told, you wondered what they did when you werenât around.
Did they talk to each other? Touch each other? Hold each other? Did they fuck one another like theyâve done you?
You shook your head, eyes rolling down to the chopping board in-front of you as you followed Soapâs command, enjoying his wit. After a while, you figured you relatively enjoyed his company, despite the occasional pushiness, he was really a sweet guy and incredibly smart. He offered you a sense of comfort and warmth, similar to Gaz, their eyes both holding an endearing light.
Once prepared, you watched Soap work with ease, stepping back to give him space. He didnât acknowledge it but you could tell he appreciated it, enjoying that you trusted him enough to take control in a space you only called your own.
You faced away from him, hands buried in soapy cold water that would barely do enough to wash away any lingering bacteria. The spit of bubbles penetrated your skin, soft tingles simmering against the delicate hair that lightly littered your arms.
Soap watched you, taking in the curvature of your thighs and ass, the way the material hugged you, moulding to every crevice of you. Gentle fingers settled amongst your hips, pulling you flush against a harder surface, the clear indent of a boner flushed against your behind as you almost gasped, body jolting at the sensation.
Lips pressed against the heat of your neck, burying themselves in the crevice. Your skin erupted at the sensations, hot magma rising through your veins as plush thighs rubbed together, the friction of the fabric most likely causing chafing for you to deal with later.
âSoap, what are you doing?â You whispered out, the feeling of his hands raising to the mound of your chest, groping the flesh as sensitives nuns pressed themselves against the cotton of your t-shirt.
âJust wantâd a taste before dinnâr. That okâ sweetâart?â
You whined as calloused hands slipped under your shirt, settling at your chest. His hands were warmer than you expected, almost adding to the flames that erupted against your flesh, heating you.
Twitchy digits found your nipples, tugging at them with both patience and fervour; almost testing the waters. You backed up into him, rubbing against the growing bulge that buried itself between your ass, a thankful growl passing his lips before you felt him lick a stripe behind your ear, hot breath fluttering against your lobe.
Both of you worked against each other, hips clashing as you humped one another, working yourselves off through icky fabric, desperate and starved for any form of touch. Your hand gripped around his arms, veins running underneath the palm of your hands as his own kneaded your flesh, toying with your breasts and tender skin.
Your pussy clamped around nothing, almost aching for more as he rutted against it, the simple tease of fabric gently guiding along your clit occasionally, panty breaths leaving your lips as you hummed at the sensation.
The sound of stairs creaking tore you away as you shuffled to the side, quickly running your arms together as you smoothed out your top, the lingering sensation of Soapâs touch still prevalent against your skin.
You looked up to the imposing figure now standing before the kitchen, Simonâs face still covered by a thick piece of black fabric, the hem of his brown eyes peeking through, framed by long blonde lashes.
âFood nearly ready?â His voice was gruff, almost threatening, yet being in his presence didnât scare you. He was intimidating, a burly figure that could easily harm you if needed, but there was a simple gentleness that followed him. You had heard him crack a few jokes, shitty jokes, but jokes nonetheless.
âAyâ donât be impatient, LT, itâll be ready in a moment.â
Dinner was nice. It was simple. All of you nursed a final pour of whiskey, the brown liqueur broiling at your chest before settling in the depth of your stomach.
Everyone had offered to clean, letting you head up early which you gratefully thanked them for (even though it was the least they could do).
It was quiet upstairs, your head chiming as you got ready for bed, shedding your clothes off before slipping over an old shirt, legs bare as they tangled between the sheets. Fingers laced your sensitive skin, dipping into your folds to collect your slick before sliding a repetitive motion against your clit.
You were pent up from earlier, chasing the needed high that you werenât able to get from Soap. Would he visit you? Fulfil the words he said to you? Remove the clothed barrier between the two of you?
Almost like your mind was read, there was a soft hum of a knock at the door as you pulled the blankets over you before gesturing them in. Soapâs eager eyes welcomed you, head lopping to the side slightly as he gave you a clumsy smile.
You werenât sure if it was confidence or the barely-consumed amount of alcohol that surged through you as you stood up and waltzed over to the Scotsman. Quick hands pushed the door closed before you were on your knees, the wood below you offering you no support as you fidgeted with the zipper of Soapâs pants.
âLass, you donât-â
âI want too.â
He swallowed, visibly, Adamâs apple bobbing with excitement as he rested a hand against the side of your hand, rubbing against it delicately. Sea blue briefs were stained a dark hinge due to the large wet patch that grew, tip flushed against it as an eager mouth lapped at it through the material.
Johnny hissed, throbbing at the sensation before he thrusted slightly, meeting your tongue that was soaking through his boxers. âDonât tease mâ, love. Iâm a desperate man.â
You looked up at him and grinned, palming him, before pulling them down, angry cock springing out before slapping against the base of his stomach, tip leaking with pre-cum that you were eager to taste.
Steady hands found the base, squeezing it before bringing the threatening length towards you. You spat, a glob of saliva dripping down towards his cock before you worked it in with a pace, the member now glistening as you kitten licked the tip, tasting him for yourself as you hummed.
Soapâs hands found your hair, holding it into a pony as your lips worked around his length, slowly burying him in the warmth of your mouth before you hollowed out your cheeks, earning a grunt from the man.
âThatâs it, love, good girl.â
His words fuelled you, feeding you just right as you worked him further into your mouth, a gag soon following as evident saliva pooled at your mouth, escaping your lips through a crack as you swallowed around the intimidating length.
Soap was a string of expletives as you sucked him off, your tongue running along the shaft of his cock, tracing every vein as the remainder of him was worked off by a hand, another buried at his balls that were covered by light curls of dark hair.
His hips moved with every thrust you made, working himself deeper into your throat as you gagged and hummed, tears welling your eyes as he held onto your hair with a tight grip. You looked up at him, eyes wide with lust as he smiled back, a cocky glaze over his face.
Johnnyâs hands pulled you back, your mouth pulling off of him with a pop as you raised a brow in confusion, almost offended.
âWould be a waste if I came in your moutâ before feeling your pussy, wouldnât it, sweetness?â
#evilgwrl#call of duty x reader#141 x reader#simon riley#ghost#ghost smut#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#captain price smut#captain price x reader#price smut#captain price#poly!141 smut#poly 141 smut#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#gaz smut#kyle gaz garrick#gaz#soap smut#soap#soap x reader#john soap mactavish#soap cod#141 smut
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no body, no crime [o.p.s]
pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways Iâm continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition đ



The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.
Oscar wasnât home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.
You werenât worried much about the call time, but you couldnât help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.
Whatever it was sounded important but he didnât let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that heâd be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.
With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.
You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.
2:45 A.M. It read.
You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.
As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.
You didnât see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.
You couldnât remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasnât just for nothing.
The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.
where are you rn? heard something outside, canât see guards anywhere.
The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.
lmk when youâre on your way.
You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.
[Osc].
You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.
âY/n? Is that you, baby?â
âMmm, it is,â You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"
âNo, I thought i heard something,â You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, âAnd the guards arenât here, they-â
âWhat do you mean not there?â You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.
"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid butâŚ"
"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Donât use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.
âWhat theâŚâ
Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.
The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.
Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.
You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.
They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.
The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.
The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.
Youâd stunned them, but you werenât sure how long itâd last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.
Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.
The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.
That didnât last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.
There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.
Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.
He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.
In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.
A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.
There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time youâd seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.
You couldnât make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.
You couldnât really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.
You werenât sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.
You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.
He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.
Both of you didnât say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.
âIs she doing okay?â You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadnât heard a peep in the hour heâd been there.
You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.
"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"
You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.
He didnât complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You donât have to if you donât want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."
Even when you didnât answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.
âWeâre going to increase security detail for you by the way. I wonât be leaving you on your own for a whileâŚâ He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. âPlease talk to me, baby, Iâm worried.â
You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to⌠I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."
Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. âNo, you didnât. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Donât blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.â
âBut then- then youâll get in trouble,â You whispered, haunted by the thought, âtheyâll arrest you.â
He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.
âOsc baby, what-â
âWhoever sent them,â He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasnât at all the full gist of what he was feeling, âStarted this trouble first. They canât arrest me if thereâs no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.â
You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.
âYouâreâŚâ You didnât finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.
âItâs going to be alright,â he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. âYouâre strong, we all know that.â
âI donât know what Iâd do without you.â You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.
âYouâll never have to find out,â he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, âNever when Iâm here.â
#f1 fluff#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x gn!reader#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#mafia f1#f1 mafia#f1 mafia au#f1 fanfiction#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fic#op81 fluff#op81 x you#op81 x y/n#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#op81#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 imagine
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every win is not sweet
alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader
youâre still trying to catch your breath as the final whistle blows, the sound of it almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers around the away catalan stadium. bodies are collapsing onto the pitch, teammates rushing toward you with arms wide open.Â
your chest heaves, the pounding of your heart matching the excitment of the away crowd that surprisingly had a good turnout. the scoreboard blares its unforgiving truth. real madrid 3, barcelona 1.
the player of the match does to caroline but itâs your name that echoes through the stadium. it was your goal in the 90+6 minute that basically told barcelona that they were not coming back from this match. this time, they fell and you were the one to do it.
your teammates engulf you, the weight of their bodies crashing into yours. laughter, cheers, even a few tears. you can barely stand. someone ruffles your hair, another smacks your back but through it all your eyes instinctively search the pitch.Â
those eyes of yours past the celebrating white shirts, past the madridistas jumping in the stands. your gaze finally lands on her. alexia.
sheâs still near the barcelona bench, hands on her hips, her head tilted down. that dark blonde of hers is damp with sweat, strands clinging to her face. the captainâs armband is loose around her bicep. for a moment, she doesnât move. then, without meeting your gaze, she turns away.
by the time the post-match formalities are over, the adrenaline has worn off. your body aches. the press interviews are a blurâŚ.you manage the usual lines, nothing too biting, nothing too cocky.Â
the club media officer is relieved. they didnât want anything inflammatory from you, not after a victory like this but your mindâs not there. itâs with alexia who does take losses like this very seriously.
later youâre barely through the front door of your apartment when you hear the distinct sound of keys jangling. you shut the door quietly, kicking off your shoes. the lights are dim, the city skyline glowing faintly through the wide windows. the hum of barcelona traffic filters in.
"alexia?"
the sound of her footsteps emerges from the kitchen. she doesnât answer at first. instead, she stands with her back to you, the fridge door open as she retrieves a bottle of water. the tension is palpable, hanging heavy in the air. you swallow hard.
"baby?" you try again, softer this time.
she finally turns, her jaw tight. those usually warm brown eyes are distant now and you know. you know before she even says a word.
"you didn't have to celebrate like that."
the words are clipped, low. they hang between you, and you can't hide the flicker of surprise that flashes across your face.
"what?"
alexia steps closer, the water bottle gripped tightly in her hand, "the way you showed off to our crowd, y/n⌠you wanted to rub it into our fans faces."
"are you serious?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, "that was our first win over you ever and i scored in stoppage time. what did you expect me to do? stand there?"
she doesnât respond immediately. her jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing.
"i get it," she finally says, "it was a big moment for madrid but you know what it was for us? our first loss to you. do you know how that feels?"
"of course i do," you snap, frustration bubbling to the surface. "every clasico weâve played, weâve been humiliated. every time, you walk off the pitch victorious, and iâm left wondering if weâll ever catch up and today, we did. iâm sorry that hurts you, but it meant everything to my teammates.âÂ
alexia shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, "this isnât just about the game. itâs about how you celebrated. you couldâve⌠i donât know, shown some respect."
"respect?" your voice rises, incredulous, "you think i disrespected you? alexia, i never played for barcelona therefore i donât have any loyalty to give to that club⌠only just to you. i would never disrespect you but iâm allowed to be happy. iâm allowed to celebrate."
sheâs silent again, and itâs unbearable. the walls of the apartment seem smaller, suffocating. your breaths are shallow, your pulse quickening.
"maybe you donât understand because youâre always winning," you murmur, the bitterness slipping through despite your best efforts.
alexiaâs eyes flash, and it stings. youâve never fought like this before. not like this.
"so now iâm the villain for being successful? is that it?" she retorts, her voice sharp.
"thatâs not what i said."
"but itâs what you meant."
the weight of the argument crashes over both of you. you see the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders tense. sheâs always been passionate, fiery. you love that about her but right now, itâs a wall you canât get through.
"alexia," you whisper, your voice cracking, "this doesnât have to be like this. weâre on different teams, yeah, but weâre not against each otherâŚ. not really."
she exhales slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. the tension lingers, but so does something else. something fragile.
"i know," she murmurs, "i just⌠itâs hard."
at first, it seemed like the tension from that argument had started to dissolve. she had mumbled something about how you played well, and you thanked her, adding that she had too. the words were stiff, like neither of you wanted to bring up what had happened but of course, it didnât take long before it resurfaced.
"i'm just saying," alexia spoke, her voice laced with frustration, "if janaâs goal wasnât called offside, the entire game would have been different."
you blinked, confused⌠"what? but it was offside, alexia."
she scoffed, shaking her head, "barely. it was so tight and those kinds of calls... sometimes they go the other way. we shouldâve had that goal."
"but you didnât." your voice came out sharper than you intended, "because it was offside. thatâs how the game works⌠offside goals do not count."
"so you think that call was perfect? flawless?" her brows furrowed, her jaw tight.
you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, "i think the refs checked it and confirmed it. what else do you want, ale? they didnât just pull that decision out of thin air.â
"right, because officiating has never been questionable," she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.
your patience thinned. she wasn't just upset, alexia was convincing herself of something that wasnât true. you understood how painful a loss like this was. barcelonaâs dominance over madrid had been undeniable, and now that streak was broken. the denial? that was something else.
"are you seriously going to keep this up?" you snapped, your voice rising, "are you really going to sit here and act like jana's goal wasnât offside just to cope with losing? is that how youâre all dealing with it?"
alexiaâs mouth parted slightly, as if the words stung. she held your gaze, the warmth in her brown eyes quickly replaced by something colder.Â
"whatever," she muttered, pushing herself off the couch, "congratulations on your win, y/n."Â
the way she said it, bitter and dismissive, made your stomach twist. you shook your head as she walked away, disappearing down the hall.Â
"unbelievable," you mumbled under your breath, the weight of the night pressing down on you.
all of those hours passed, the air in the apartment thick with unresolved tension. you spent most of the evening scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to push down the guilt simmering inside you.Â
the truth was, you didnât like how you handled it. you had every right to stand by the victory, but snapping at alexia like that? that wasnât fair. she had poured her heart into that match just as much as you had.
when you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door, your eyes flicked up. alexia stood there, her shoulders slightly hunched, her expression unreadable.Â
"hey," you said quietly, setting your phone aside.
"hey," she echoed, her voice soft. there was a hesitance in her step as she approached you.
"look," you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, "i shouldnât have said that. i was frustrated at your reaction, but that doesnât mean i shouldâve approached it in that manner."
she nodded slowly, "and i shouldn't have... i shouldnât have made excuses. it wasnât fair to you. iâm sorry."
the weight of it all lifted slightly. you reached out, gently taking her hand in yours. her fingers curled around yours, that familiar warmth grounding you.Â
"i get why you were upset," you murmured, "i would be too. it wasnât just any game."
alexiaâs lips twitched upward in the faintest smile, though her eyes still held a tinge of sadness.Â
"it was a big one."
"yeah," you whispered, pulling her closer. your arms wrapped around her waist, and she melted into your embrace, "but iâm glad weâre okay⌠right?"
she nodded against your shoulder, her breath steady, "we are."
you pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss to her lips. alexiaâs hands rested against your back, holding you firmly. the kiss was slow, unhurried.
when you pulled away, you smirked playfully, deciding to lighten the mood, "good luck against wolfsburg this weekend," you whispered, the words brushing against her ear.
alexia scoffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.Â
"thanks," she replied, "you too, but against arsenal."
masterlist
authors note: I hate madrid so it was very hard to write this one without being snarky LMAO
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso fanfics#woso community#woso x reader#barcelona femeni#fc barcelona#meazalykovrecommends#fc barcelona femeni#real madrid feminino
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lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 05
pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader
content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.
summary ; rafe cameron is everything you canât stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brotherâs best friend, heâs always been a constant presence, one youâve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. youâve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, youâre forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isnât so easy to hate after all.
status ; ongoing .á
âş navigation ; 004. 005. 006.


FIVE, the hollow beneath ribs.
YOU WOKE TO THE SOFT HUM OF YOUR CEILING FAN,Â
your head pounding faintly from the night before. you stretched lazily, blinking against the morning light filtering through your curtains. the bed felt oddly spacious, and you turned your head to confirm what you already suspected, rafe wasn't there. carter, on the other hand, was still sprawled out on the floor, tangled in blankets, snoring lightly.
you sat up slowly, your movements careful, and rubbed your temples. a hangover cure was the first priority. sliding out of bed, you tiptoed past carter and made your way downstairs. on the way, you passed the guest bedroom rafe usually stayed in and glanced inside. it was empty, the bed untouched.
your brows knitted together, a flicker of confusion sparking in your half-asleep mind. shrugging it off for the moment, you made your way into the kitchen. the smell of alcohol still clung to the air from the night before, you cringed at the sight of the house and wiped down the stove top. you set a pan on the stove and began cracking eggs into a bowl, tossing in a few strips of bacon and hash browns once the pan was hot.
as the food sizzled and filled the room with a rich, savory smell, the front door creaked open. you turned, spatula in hand, to see rafe stepping inside. he was wearing the same clothes from the party, his hair slightly mussed, and he avoided your eyes at first, brushing past you toward the counter.
"where were you?" you asked sharply, your voice low but pointed. your eyes scanned his face for clues, but he was annoyingly hard to read, as usual.
"just out," rafe muttered, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the tap. he drank it in one go, his back to you.
"out where?" you pressed, taking a cautious step closer.
he finally looked at you, his expression unreadable. "relax. it's not a big deal."
before you could push further, carter's footsteps thudded down the stairs, cutting through the tension. he appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair a mess and his face still puffy from sleep. "is that bacon i smell?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
you sighed, turning back to the stove and letting the subject drop for now. "yeah, sit down. food's almost ready."
rafe smirked faintly as he slid into a chair at the table. "you're spoiling us, didn't know you were so domestic."
you shot him a look over your shoulder but didn't respond, your mind still turning over his mysterious absence. you served up plates of bacon, eggs, and hash browns, sliding one in front of each of them before sitting down with your own.
as they ate, carter filled the silence with lazy chatter about the party, laughing about how someone had nearly fallen into the pool fully clothed. you nodded along, but your eyes kept darting toward rafe, your suspicion lingering like a shadow.
he caught you staring once and raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as if to say, what's your problem? but you didn't rise to the bait. instead, you silently decided to keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. whatever he was up to, you weren't going to let it slide unnoticed.
the cleanup was gruelling, the aftermath of the party revealing itself in every corner of the house and yard. empty cups and bottles were scattered across tables, the faint smell of beer still clinging to the air. you, carter, and rafe moved through the chaos like a reluctant cleaning crew, each tasked with a section. you found herself around the pool, collecting forgotten items; someone's jacket, a pair of sunglasses, even a lone flip-flop.
you glanced over at rafe, who was lazily tossing garbage into a bag. your suspicion bubbled up again, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.
"so, are you gonna tell me where you went this morning?"
rafe froze, his jaw tightening before he slowly looked up at you. "not this again," he muttered, shaking his head.
"yeah, this again," you shot back, crossing your arms. "you disappeared. you come back acting all shady. what's the deal?"
he let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humour in it. "maybe i don't owe you a play-by-play of my life."
"you're staying under our roof," you said pointedly, your voice rising slightly. "the least you could do is not sneak off to fuck-knows-where without a word."
"god, you're such a control freak," he snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet of the backyard. "maybe that's why no one ever invites you to stuff unless carter drags you along. you don't know how to loosen up unless you've got a drink in your hand."
you blinked, the words hitting harder than you wanted to admit. your hands clenched into fists at her sides, and for a second, you thought about throwing one of the empty bottles at his stupid face.
"you're such a piece of shit, rafe," you said instead, your voice low and venomous. "you don't care about anyone but yourself. no wonder you end up at places like barry's, completely out of it. maybe if you weren't so desperate to ruin your life, people would actually give a damn about you."
he shook his head, face darkening, "you're such a bitch." his lips pressing into a thin line. without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked off, the trash bag swinging at his side. you watched him go, your chest heaving with anger and something else you didn't want to name.
same old rafe, you thought bitterly, tossing the last of the garbage into a bin. always running, always destructive.
it took another hour to finish cleaning up, and by the time they were done, you were exhausted. you flopped onto the couch and put on a random tv show, barely paying attention as you scrolled through your phone.
"we're heading to the club," carter announced, appearing in the doorway with rafe trailing behind him.
"have fun," you replied without looking up.
"you sure you don't wanna come? maybe play a few holes?"
"pass," you said curtly, her gaze fixed on the tv.
carter shrugged, and they left. you didn't even glance at rafe as he walked out the door, though you could feel his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.
once the house was quiet again, you let out a heavy sigh and made your way upstairs. sitting on the windowsill of your bedroom, you packed a bowl and lit it, the sharp smell of weed filling the room. you blew the smoke out into the crisp air, your mind spinning before lighting her lavender candle.Â
what's with him lately? you thought, leaning your head back against the frame. you hated that you were even worried about rafe cameron of all people. but the memory of him at barry's, glassy-eyed and reckless, stuck in your head.
"he gets himself into this mess," you muttered under your breath, taking another hit.
and yet, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.Â
your head was heavy from the weed, but it wasn't doing enough to numb the constant churn of your thoughts. your finger tapped rhythmically against the lighter, flicking it open and shut, the small spark of flame giving your hands something to do. anything to distract you from replaying the morning's argument over and over in your head.
rafe's words had this way of slicing right through you, like he wasn't even trying. it wasn't just what he said but how he said it, the sharpness in his tone, the way his eyes cut into yours as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience. you hated him for it. you hated that he could get under your skin so effortlessly, that he could leave you standing there, fuming, long after he'd stormed off.
but what annoyed you even more was that beneath all that anger, you still felt something else. a pull you didn't want to acknowledge, something softer that made your stomach twist.
rafe cameron was trouble. you'd known that for years. everyone did. sarah had told you that a million times growing up. "stay out of his way. rafe's not just destructive- he's dangerous." and you had listened. or at least, you'd tried to.
but it was impossible to avoid someone like rafe. he had this presence, this energy that demanded attention. he walked into a room and everyone noticed, whether they wanted to or not. his reputation was loud and clear; the king of kooks, the cameron family's untamed problem child.
ignorance was bliss for the parents of figure eight, and ward cameron was no different. as long as rafe didn't make enough noise to embarrass the family name, who cared what he did in his spare time? who cared how many bridges he burned or how many lives he left in his wake?
and yet, there was something about him that people couldn't look away from. you hated yourself for admitting it, but rafe cameron had a magnetism that was hard to ignore. it wasn't just the way he carried himself, like the world owed him something. it was the danger in him, the unpredictability.
you'd seen it firsthand, countless times. the way he'd tear someone down without blinking, the way he'd cross any line if it meant getting what he wanted. he didn't just pass by obstacles, he demolished them.
he wasn't a mystery. not really. everyone knew what rafe cameron was: cold, calculated, cruel. he carried himself with this untouchable arrogance, and it made your blood boil every time you were around him.
but then there were moments, brief, fleeting moments, where that mask of his cracked. like the night you'd saved him from barry's, too high to make a snarky comment, stumbling to the spare bedroom in silence. or the way he'd talked to you by the pool before the party, promising you softly that everything would be fine.
this morning had been a different story. his anger, his defensiveness, it was familiar, the rafe you'd expected. but there was something else there, too. something deeper you couldn't quite name.
you hated how your mind kept circling back to him, like you were trying to figure out a puzzle you didn't even want to solve. rafe cameron wasn't your problem. he wasn't your project or responsibility.
but then why couldn't you stop thinking about him? why did you feel this nagging concern for someone who clearly didn't deserve it?
"he's not all that," you murmured under your breath, the words hanging in the still air of her room. because you'd seen it now, hadn't you? under the bravado, the cruelty, the cocky smirks, there was something else. something fragile and broken.
you inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs, hoping it would drown out the noise in your head. rafe cameron was a mess. a dangerous, destructive mess. but you couldn't help the part of you that wondered what he might look like without all the walls he'd built around himself.
you were curled up on the couch, a plate balanced on your lap as you quietly ate dinner and flipped through a book. the faint hum of the kitchen fan was the only sound in the house, the rest of the food still sitting warm on the stove and counter, waiting for carter and rafe to stumble back from whatever chaos they'd brewed at the country club.
you were halfway through a page when the front door creaked open, followed by a thud. carter's voice, strained and breathless, muttered, "jesus, rafe, help me out here."
you set your plate down, standing as carter struggled to drag rafe into the house. rafe was draped over carter like dead weight, giggling and mumbling under his breath. his words slurred together, something about "the perfect swing" and "stupid ties."
"oh my god," you said softly, watching as carter manoeuvred rafe toward the couch.
"don't even start," carter said, gritting his teeth. "he's... completely gone. i didn't know what else to do. he nearly got us banned from the country club. they threatened to call ward, but i got us out of there."
rafe flopped onto the couch with a heavy thud, his head rolling to the side, eyes half-open and unfocused. you blinked, unsure you'd ever seen him this bad before. rafe cameron was a lot of things - loud, arrogant, reckless - but you'd never seen him this publicly out of control.
"what do we even do with him?" carter muttered, rubbing his face. "he's your problem now. i'm getting a bucket before he ruins the furniture."
you stood frozen, your arms crossed, watching as carter disappeared into the garage. rafe shifted beside you, mumbling something you couldn't quite catch.
"rafe, what are you even saying?" you asked hesitantly, glancing down at him.
his eyes fluttered open, unfocused but locking on yours for a brief moment. "you're, uh... you're kinda pretty when you're not yelling," he slurred, a dopey grin spreading across his face.
you frowned, a flush creeping up your neck despite yourself. "okay, you're done talking."
"nah, 'm serious," he mumbled, his voice drifting off. "you... you saved me or something, didn't you? or was that... uh..." he trailed off, giggling to himself.
before you could respond, carter returned with a bucket and sighed loudly. "help me get him up," he said.
between the two of you, you managed to haul rafe to the guest bedroom ensuite. he wasn't cooperating much, his legs dragging as they half-carried, half-pushed him inside.
"just leave him here," carter said, laying out a towel on the bathroom floor. "if he throws up, at least it's easy to clean."
you sighed, kneeling to adjust the towel under rafe's head as he slumped half in the bathroom and half out. you watched him for a moment, his usually sharp features soft and disheveled, his breathing uneven.
"carter," you said quietly, standing and crossing your arms. "i need to tell you something."
he looked up from where he was tossing a pillow onto the floor for rafe. "what?"
"the first night he started staying here," you began, your voice hesitant. "it wasn't just to avoid his dad. i found him at barry's... doing coke at 2 in the morning. he was so out of it, carter. i didn't have a choice but to bring him back."
carter didn't look surprised. he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed heavily. "yeah... that checks out."
"that's it? 'that checks out'?" you snapped, your frustration bubbling.
"what do you want me to say?" carter said, his voice tired. "this is just... it's who he is. he's not gonna want to change, never has."
you looked back at rafe, a lump forming in your throat. "maybe he should."
carter didn't answer, just shrugged and turned toward the door. "you coming?"
"no," you said quietly. "i'll staying here for a bit... make sure he doesn't choke on his vomit or something."
carter hesitated but nodded, leaving you alone with rafe, the faint sound of his breathing filling the silence.
you sat against the end of the bed, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at rafe. his breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting against the weight of whatever had dragged him under.
you didn't know why you stayed. maybe it was pity, or maybe you just didn't want to sit alone in the silence of the house while carter went off to do whatever.
you watched him for a while, the fluorescent bathroom light flickering faintly above them. his hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and stained from whatever mess he'd gotten into at the country club. for someone so used to exuding power, he looked small right now, like the world had stripped him bare.
"why do you do this to yourself?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.
rafe stirred slightly, his head turning toward you. you thought he might be waking up, but his eyes stayed shut, his lips parting just enough to let out a soft groan.
"you're such a mess," you said, the words sharper this time, even though you didn't mean them to be. "and you just... don't care, do you? you don't care how it affects anyone else."
your voice cracked at the end, surprising you. you hadn't meant to let it get to you like this.
rafe mumbled something incoherent, his hand twitching against the towel. you leaned forward slightly, trying to catch what he was saying, but it was nothing, just fragments of words that didn't make sense.
you sighed, running a hand through your hair, suddenly exhausted. standing, you grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and draped it over him, tucking the edges around his shoulders like you were trying to protect him from something he wouldn't even notice.
"you're lucky carter cares enough to drag you back here," you muttered. "because i don't think anyone else would."
you didn't know if that was true. people cared about rafe, but not in the way he needed. they cared about what he could offer, the status he brought, the chaos he caused. it was transactional, always.
you turned off the bedroom light and dimmed the bathroom one, leaving the door open just enough for the hallway light to spill in. your feet felt heavy as you left the room, like the weight of the night was finally catching up to you.
as you crawled into her bed, the smell of lavender still faintly clinging to your sheets, your mind wouldn't stop racing. flashes of rafe at barry's, rafe slumped over carter's shoulder, rafe with that stupid, cocky grin when you won in beer pong together.
"he's not my problem," you whispered to yourself, trying to believe it.
but sleep didn't come easy, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you didn't really believe it.
you groaned softly as you rolled over, hearing the sound of retching echoing faintly through the house. it took you a moment to realise it wasn't a dream. you sat up, the blankets falling away, and rubbed your eyes. the groaning continued, louder now, pained and guttural.
"shit," you muttered under your breath, slipping out of bed and padding quietly down the hall.
when you reached the guest bedroom, the door was still slightly ajar, the faint glow of the hallway light spilling out into the bedroom. you hesitated for a second, then pushed it open fully.
rafe was on his knees in front of the toilet, his head half-buried in the bowl as he heaved again, his whole body shuddering with the effort. his shirt was bunched up at the back, and your eyes immediately landed on the massive bruise blooming along his left side. it was deep purple, almost black in the centre, fading to sickly yellow at the edges.
"jesus, rafe," you breathed, stepping closer with wide eyes.
he groaned, one hand clutching his ribs as he slumped back against the bath behind him, his head lolling to the side. his eyes flickered open, bloodshot and hazy, and they landed on you.
"y/n," he croaked, his voice raw and slurred. "what... what're you doing here?"
"what am i doing here? you're the one making enough noise to wake the dead," you said, kneeling down beside him slowly.
he winced, shifting slightly, and you could see the pain etched into his features. "feel like sshit," he mumbled, his words barely audible.
"yeah, no kidding," you muttered. you stood, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before handing it to him. "here. drink this. slowly."
he stared at the glass for a moment, like he couldn't quite comprehend what it was, then took it with a trembling hand.
"mmm," he mumbled. you took it as a thank you as he sipped the water, grimacing as he swallowed.
you sat back on your heels, watching him carefully. the bruise, the way he clutched his side, it wasn't from falling or bumping into something. it was too deliberate, too vicious.
"rafe..." you started, your voice hesitant. "what happened to your side?"
his eyes flicked to yours, sharp for a moment before they softened, his usual defences crumbling under the weight of exhaustion and whatever he'd been through. "don't worry 'bout it," he mumbled.
"don't tell me not to worry when you look like that," you snapped quietly, your voice harsher than you intended.
he flinched slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "jus'... had a disagreement, okay? nothin' new."
"with who? barry? your dad?" you pressed, your frustration bubbling over.
"does it matter?" he shot back, his voice hoarse but edged with bitterness.
you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "you can't keep doing this, rafe. you're going to destroy yourself."
he let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "maybe i already have."
something in the way he said it made your chest tighten, like you could feel the weight of whatever he was carrying pressing down on you, too.
"you don't have to," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
he looked at you then, really looked at you, his bloodshot eyes searching your face like he was trying to figure out if you'd meant it.
"why d'you care?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as he locked eyes with you.
you opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. why did you care? you weren't sure. maybe it was the way he looked so lost, or the fact that he was letting you see this side of him at all. maybe it was because, deep down, you knew that no one else would.
"i... don't know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
he stared at you for a moment longer, then nodded slightly, like that answer made sense to him in a way it didn't to you.
you realised then, with a sinking feeling in your chest, that you wanted to help him. and that it might destroy you in the process.
notes ; thank you for readinggg !!
series taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @foolishangelic @i2rapunzel @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafestoothbrush @drewizz @6r4cie @akobx @seehowitshines @rafeswhoooreee @vbstrewbieri @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @ariivv01 @k4yr14 @ehhhitsaj @luvrcndy @domesticatedparadiiise @teleishachrisy @importantbeardcupcake @vanessa-rafesgirl ( lachesism taglist )
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Snoop (pt. 2) âľ Matt Sturniolo

summary: after you've found a small box in matt's drawer, the time finally comes.
The day had finally arrivedâyour five-year anniversary with Matt. Heâd been teasing you about a surprise for weeks, but never let any details slip. After your discovery of the ring in his sock drawer, the anticipation had become almost unbearable. You hadnât let on that you knew, thoughâpart of you wanted to let him have the moment exactly as heâd planned it.
That morning, Matt had been unusually quiet, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a kind of nervous energy. Heâd packed an overnight bag for both of you, insisting on taking you somewhere special. The excitement in his eyes, though mixed with some nerves, made you even more eager to see what he had planned.
As the car wound its way through the tree-lined road, the golden light of the setting sun filtered through the leaves. The drive was peaceful, with only the sound of the radio playing softly in the background. You were holding his hand, your heart pounding as you both sat in comfortable silence. Whatever was coming, you could feel it in the air.
After what felt like forever, Matt pulled up to a secluded clearing by the edge of a sparkling lake. The sight before you took your breath away. Tall pine trees surrounded the area, their branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. The lake stretched out before you, its surface reflecting the fiery hues of the setting sun, and in the middle of the clearing, there was a pathway lit by soft, twinkling fairy lights that led to a small, open pavilion draped in white curtains.
You turned to Matt, your eyes wide. âThis is beautifulâŚâ
Matt smiled, his face soft with emotion as he looked at you. âItâs not over yet. Come on.â He took your hand and led you down the lighted path toward the pavilion.
As you reached the center of the pavilion, your heart swelled. There was a small table set with candles, your favorite flowers, and soft music playing from somewhere in the distance. It felt like something out of a dream, like the whole world had been designed for this exact moment.
Matt stood in front of you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to take yours. His eyes were locked on yours, and you could see the depth of emotion in themâsomething youâd always known was there, but that felt even more powerful tonight.
âY/N,â he began, his voice quiet but steady. âThereâs so much Iâve been thinking about for the past few months. Weâve been through so much togetherâmore than I ever thought possible when we first started dating. And every single day with you⌠itâs just made me more sure that I donât want to spend my life with anyone else.â
Tears welled up in your eyes as he spoke, your heart beating so hard you thought he might hear it.
âIâve had this whole speech planned out,â he continued, his voice wavering just slightly, âbut now that Iâm standing here, none of the words seem good enough. How do you tell the person you love more than anything that they mean the world to you? How do you put into words what it feels like to wake up next to your best friend every day, knowing that this is exactly where youâre meant to be?â
Your tears spilled over, and Matt gently squeezed your hands, his own eyes glistening now.
âI guess what Iâm trying to say is⌠youâve made me the happiest person Iâve ever been. And I donât want to wait any longer to start the rest of our lives together.â
Matt took a deep breath and let go of one of your hands, reaching into his pocket. Your heart stopped as he knelt down on one knee, pulling out that same small velvet box youâd found weeks ago.
He looked up at you, his voice barely above a whisper now. âY/N, will you marry me?â
The world seemed to pause in that moment. The twinkling lights, the soft music, the golden light of the setting sunâall of it blurred as you looked down at the man you loved, your chest tight with overwhelming emotion.
With tears streaming down your face, you nodded, barely able to get the words out. âYes. Of course, yes.â
Mattâs face broke into the most beautiful smile youâd ever seen as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger. The instant the cool metal touched your skin, you felt a rush of joy so profound it took your breath away.
He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as the tears flowed freely from both of you. You felt his heart pounding against yours, and in that moment, you knew that this was itâthis was your forever.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft pink glow across the sky, you stood there in Mattâs arms, knowing that the next chapter of your lives had just begun. And it was going to be more magical than you ever could have imagined.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash
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Early Morning | Quinn Hughes



Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warning(s); Fluff, established relationship, not sure what else only edited once.
Summary; The morning after the Winnipeg loss. Kinda cringe, kinda domestic.
Word Count; 2.5k
Authorâs note; He looked so defeated in postgame media đ someone give him a big hug!! There isnât really a premise to this fic, itâs just fluffy and I need that, personally. Inbox is open for requests, and any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Love you all. -Honey
Upon waking, the first thing you notice is the unfamiliar weight beside you. Still tangled in a fog of sleep, you roll over, expecting to find the usual emptiness. Instead, your arm brushes against something solid and warmâa hard lump beneath the covers. Blinking against the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains, you squint your eyes and focus.
Quinn is there. Heâs sprawled out on his stomach, mouth slightly parted, emitting soft snores with every exhale. His chest, bare, rises and falls in a steady rhythm. A small, dried patch of drool sits at the corner of his mouth, and despite his tousled brown hair, you can still make out the faint red imprint on his forehead from his helmetâthe telltale sign of his previous game. The messy sheets barely cover his lower half, leaving most of the covers bunched up beneath him, as though heâd fought for dominance over the bed in his sleep.
You sigh softly, rolling back onto your side, rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes to wipe away the last remnants of sleep. The night before blurs in your memoryâwork had been exhausting, and by the time youâd collapsed into bed, youâd barely had the energy to think, let alone stay awake long enough to wait for Quinn to call. Last you heard, he was still in Winnipeg for the last away game of the roadtrip. And yet, here he is now, stretched out beside you, having returned home sometime in the middle of the night. You hadn't even heard the jangle of his keys in the door, much less felt the weight of him slipping into bed.
As you lie there, your eyes trace the outline of his body, the soft curve of his back, the way the morning light plays against his skin. You and Quinn had been dating for a little over two months now, and in all that time, he'd never once shown up in the middle of the night unannounced, not even after a home gameâlet alone after getting off a late flight from an away game. It was unlike him, the type who usually kept to his routines, always texting you first to make sure it was okay to come by. A spontaneous visit, especially after a road trip, was out of character, and it made your mind race with curiosity.
Reaching over to the bedside table, you fumble for your phone, its cold surface a sharp contrast to the warm cocoon of blankets. The screen blinks to life, and your heart skips a beat when you notice the unread message from Quinn. Swiping it open, you squint at the time stampâ12:03 AM, well after youâd slipped into unconsciousness.
I tried calling you but you must be asleep.
You feel a twinge of guilt as you scan the message. He had tried to message you, but youâd been out cold, blissfully unaware of both his texts and the game itself. A sigh escapes your lips. You'd barely made it through dinner, let alone the start of the game. Work had drained you, the kind of exhaustion that made staying awake for anything else a battle you couldnât win.
Now, scrolling through your notifications, you canât help but wince when you see the final score. The Canucks had lost, and badlyâa brutal 6-1 blowout in Winnipeg. Your chest tightens, imagining how deflated Quinn mustâve felt stepping off that plane, dragging his gear behind him, shoulders slumped in defeat. The last thing heâd need after a night like that was silence from you, but thatâs exactly what he got.
You drop your phone back on the nightstand, letting it land with a dull thud, before running a hand through your hair. You can picture it now: Quinn sitting on the bus, staring at his phone screen, waiting for a reply that never came, while the disappointment of the loss gnawed at him. He must have needed you, needed the comfort of something familiar, something steady to ground him after the sting of defeat. And you werenât there to answer.
A small pang of regret settles in your chest, but as you glance at him lying peacefully beside you, your guilt softens into something warmer, something more understanding. He came to you. After the long flight, after the frustration of the game, after all of itâhe came to you. Without asking for permission, without caring if it broke some unspoken routine, he just needed to be here, in your bed, in the one place where he could let his guard down.
Groaning softly, you stretch out your legs and arms, feeling the delicious pull of tight muscles loosening after a night of deep sleep. The sheets slip away from your body, and for a moment, you just lie there, savoring the lazy comfort of the morningâthe warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, and the weight of Quinn still sound asleep beside you. Even though you know he could probably sleep through a hurricane, you still move carefully, slipping out of bed inch by inch to avoid disturbing him.
The cold air nips at your skin the moment you leave the cozy embrace of the blankets, sending a small shiver through you. Your feet make a soft thud as they hit the hardwood floor, the contrast between the cold surface and your warm skin causing you to flinch slightly. You tread quietly across the room, mindful of each creak in the floorboards. As you walk down the hallway, the soft patter of your footsteps echoes faintly.
You push the bathroom door open gently, catching your reflection in the mirror. Your hair, tangled from sleep, falls in wild waves around your face, and you reach up to corral it into a loose, low bun. Turning on the faucet, the water sputters for a second before it flows smoothly, cool against your fingers. You splash it on your face, the shock of cold water clearing the last remnants of sleep from your mind. Droplets cling to your skin, rolling down your cheeks as you reach for a towel and press it to your face, savoring the softness of the fabric against your freshly washed skin.
You grab your toothbrush, the soft bristles brushing against your teeth as you lean against the sink. For a few minutes, the world is nothing but the sound of water swirling down the drain and the fresh taste of mint spreading across your tongue.
Lost in your thought, youâre startled when you feel a presence beside you. You jump slightly, your heart skipping a beat as you glance to your left and find Quinn standing there, his eyes still heavy with sleep, hair even messier than before. You hadnât heard him get up; just moments ago, heâd been dead to the world, sprawled out in bed, the very image of peaceful slumber.
He leans in silently and presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, his lips soft against your scalp, sending a gentle shiver down your spine. The gesture is so simple, yet so intimateâa silent "good morning" You feel the brief weight of his hand resting on your shoulder as he steadies himself, before he steps away toward the toilet.
Without a word, Quinn drops his boxers, the fabric pooling around his ankles. He goes about his business, yawning as he stands there, the faint sound of the stream hitting the water filling the small bathroom. Youâre used to this by now, the easy lack of pretense that has formed between the two of you, the understanding that neither of you needs to tiptoe around each otherâs presence.
For a moment, you watch him, his shoulder to you, his posture relaxed. Thereâs something about this, about the way he moves through your space so naturally now, that fills you with a quiet sense of contentmentâa reminder of how easy things have become between you two.
Turning back to the sink, you spit out the last bit of toothpaste, watching the foam swirl down the drain. You rinse your mouth and place the toothbrush back in its holder. As Quinn moves toward the sink, you step aside, your shoulders brushing briefly as you give him space. "Do you want coffee?" you ask.
He nods. "Sure, thanks." You return his nod with a small nod of your own before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving him to finish up.
Entering the kitchen, you move toward the coffee maker automatically, your body working on autopilot as you open the cabinet and pull out two mugsâhis favorite, a chipped ceramic one from some team event, and yours, a simple white one with a faint coffee stain inside from countless mornings like this.
You fill the coffee filter with grounds, the sharp, earthy scent of fresh coffee filling the air as you tap the spoon against the edge of the basket. Once the machine is set, you press the start button, listening to the low hum as it begins to brew, the first few drops of coffee hitting the pot with a faint hiss.
Leaning back against the island, you cross your arms, letting out a small breath as the room fills with the comforting sound of the brewing coffee. The rich aroma slowly overtakes the air, curling around you like an old, familiar friend. You close your eyes for a second, savoring it, feeling the subtle shift in energy as the house starts to wake up.
Your fingers absentmindedly trace the edge of the countertop, cool and smooth beneath your skin, as you glance out the window at the pale morning sky. The world outside is still, a soft gray lingering just before the sun fully rises. Behind you, you hear the faint creak of a floorboard. You know Quinn is moving around, probably padding through the hallway toward you.
He enters the kitchen quietly, his bare feet padding softly across the floor. His movements are slow, unhurried, like he's still shaking off the last remnants of sleepâor maybe itâs the weight of the previous nightâs loss still clinging to him. You look up as he approaches, and thereâs something in his expressionâtired, but warmâthat makes your heart soften.
Without a word, he opens his arms, and you find yourself stepping into his embrace almost instinctively, like it's the most natural thing in the world. The space between you disappears, and the familiar comfort of his body presses against yours, grounding you both in the moment. His arms fold around you firmly, his hands splaying across your back as if to hold you closer, to keep the world out for just a few more precious seconds.
You let out a quiet breath, melting into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. His chin comes to rest lightly on top of your head, the weight of it comforting in its simplicity, and his hands begin to move in slow, soothing circles along your back. The motion is calming, like heâs trying to let you knowâwithout wordsâthat everything is fine, that heâs here and thatâs enough for now.
For a moment, neither of you says anything, the hum of the coffee maker filling the space between you.
"I'm sorry about the game," you murmur against his chest, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slip out before you can stop them, a quiet expression of the worry youâve been holding onto since you saw the score this morning. You feel the sigh that escapes him more than you hear it, his chest rising and falling beneath you in a subtle gesture of frustration mixed with resignation.
âDonât apologize,â he says, his voice rough from sleep, but thereâs no edge to itâjust the quiet exhaustion of someone whoâs used to the ups and downs. His hands keep moving against your back, slow and reassuring, as if to say itâs not your burden to carry. You nod into his chest, accepting his words but still feeling that faint tug of empathy in your heart.
A few beats of silence pass, and you feel his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You donât want to push, but you need to ask. âAre you okay?â The words are tentative, cautious, as if youâre feeling out the depth of his mood.
This time, it takes him longer to respond. His hands pause for a moment, as if he's considering what to say, weighing his answer. âJust tired,â he says eventually, his voice low, the kind of tired that goes beyond needing sleep. Thereâs a heaviness in the way he says it, and you know itâs not just about the gameâitâs the travel, the constant pressure, the physical and emotional toll of it all.
You close your eyes, sinking further into his embrace, letting the quiet stretch between you again. Thereâs no need to fill the silence; the simple act of being here, together, feels like enough. His chin shifts slightly against your head, and you can feel the warmth of his breath in your neck as he exhales slowly, as if just holding you helps ease some of the weight heâs been carrying.
The coffee pot gurgles softly in the background, signaling it's done, but neither of you moves to break the moment. You stay there, wrapped in each other, his arms still holding you close.
"Do you wanna stay in bed today?" you ask. You tilt your head back to look up at him, your cheek still resting lightly against his chest. His eyes are half-closed, his arms still wrapped loosely around you, and for a moment, it seems like heâs too caught in thought to respond. You wait, giving him the space to absorb the question, watching the way his expression softens as your words sink in.
"We can order food," you continue, your voice gentle and inviting. "Watch movies, whatever you want."
The offer lingers in the air, a way to hit pause on the outside world, to create a small, safe bubble just for the two of you. No obligations, no demandsâjust the simple pleasure of doing nothing, together. You know he needs it. After the brutal loss, the long flight, and the constant pressure, a day of stillness sounds like the perfect antidote.
He finally nods, exhaling a deep breath. His response is little more than a murmur, almost swallowed by the closeness between you. âYes, please.â
"Okay, we'll stay in bed. No rush, no plans. Just us." " you whisper, your voice soft and reassuring. "Breakfast first?"
âCoffee first,â he says with a faint smile, his voice still barely above a whisper but more present now, a hint of his usual self creeping back in. âThen breakfast. Then movies.â
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x you
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CRIMSON REVERIE
Hey guys! It's all crazy and to top it off I'm still sick, I'm getting better thanks to teas and Advil. But here I am...
Enjoy it! <3
MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT
Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader



Warning: +18, smut, anal play, impregnation fetish, degradation, jealousy Wanda
Summary: You find out what happens when you're pushed to the limit
Hey. Now I've a masterlist
SHINE
Morning arrived gently, like a whisper only the skin could hear. Light filtered through the curtains, painting shadows and shapes in golden tones across the rumpled sheets. The room smelled of warmth, a faint floral perfume, and something unmistakably Wanda.
Your body was still wrapped in the haze of sleep, but awareness began to surface in waves, carrying with it the presence of the woman beside you. A barefoot touch grazed yours, warm and subtle, as if seeking something more profound than a simple connection: a silent promise of closeness.
Wandaâs nose brushed the curve of your neck, a simple yet devastating gesture. You could feel her rhythmic, tranquil breath, spreading like a caress across your skin. The soft texture of the sheets contrasted with the comforting weight of her arm draped over your waist, holding you as if fearing the dawn might steal the privilege of having you there.
It was in these quiet moments that everything felt different. The lightness that love brought wasnât an escape but a new weightâone you carried gladly. The fine line between what was her and what was you seemed to blur, like the light filtering through the curtains, merging day and night.
Wanda shifted slightly, pressing her lips to the space between your neck and shoulderâa kiss that felt like a signature on your skin, a reminder that you belonged to her.
You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the warmth of your breath against the pillow. âAre you awake?â you murmured, your voice rough from sleep.
âMaybe,â came the whispered, humor-laden response, her tone magnetic as ever.
You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. âStaring at me again?â
âAs if itâs a crime,â Wanda replied, her fingers trailing lightly along your waistâdelicate but firm.
âFlirting with me before eight in the morning,â you teased, turning in bed to face her. Your eyes met hersâgreen like a sunlit meadow.
âIâm entitled,â she said, leaning closer. The gentle touch of your noses was followed by the soft pressure of her lips against yours, a kiss that held everything: the tenderness of the night, the warmth of the day, and the promise of everything to come.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of bread toasting in the kitchen as you assembled the twinsâ lunches at the counter. Tommy and Billy sat at the table, eyes still half-closed, already bickering over who could finish the orange juice first.
Wanda entered the kitchen, her hair slightly tousled, with an expression of pure morning laziness that only made her more irresistible. You felt her presence before you saw herâa warmth that seemed to fill the room.
âWhatâs your plan for the day, professor?â you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you spread butter on Billyâs toast.
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes sparkling with a kind of intimacy that made the world feel closer. âThe usual,â she said with a dramatic sigh. âItâs so dull going to work and not seeing your face. Did you know I only took that job to see you?â
You laughed, stepping closer with an intentionally loaded look. âMiss intimidating me in your office?â
Her voice turned naturally seductive as she leaned just slightly toward you. âYou have no idea how much.â
Her hand rose to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers moving with calculated tenderness. There was an electric charge in the exchange, a tension that seemed to absorb even the muffled laughter of the twins in the background.
âEww! No kissing!â Tommy interrupted with exaggerated indignation, making Billy burst into laughter.
You and Wanda pulled back with knowing smiles, though the playful glint in her eyes was impossible to ignore.
âAh, puberty...â Wanda sighed, feigning resignation as she turned to the boys.
âMom, donât tell me you never thought it was gross when your parents kissed,â Tommy shot back with a grimace.
Wanda arched an eyebrow, already prepared with a sharp retort. âOf course, I did. But look at meâI survived. Love doesnât kill, Tommy. Neither does a little romance.â
âMaybe boredom does,â Billy added, laughing and earning a high-five from his brother.
You watched the scene with a serene smile, handing the finished lunches to the boys. âCome on, eat quickly. Youâre almost late,â you said, though your voice carried the lightness of someone who was home.
As the boys dashed off to grab their backpacks, Wanda turned her gaze to you, the earlier intensity returning.
âOne day, theyâll understand,â she said softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
âIf they donât, oh well,â you teased, smiling as you returned the affection. âTheyâll have to deal with it, because, sorry, Iâm addicted to you.â
Wanda laughed, the sound light and filled with a love that made the day begin just right. âAnd Iâm addicted to you,â she whispered as the boysâ hurried footsteps echoed through the house.
The clock read 10:37 AM when you finally found a moment to pause at work. The teacherâs lounge was quiet, except for the soft clicking of keys in the background. The air smelled of stale coffee, and you took the opportunity to pour yourself a cup. The morning had been intense but rewardingâyour students were finally beginning to grasp Whitmanâs poetry.
You were about to sit down when Maria Hill walked in. Her deliberate, measured steps immediately drew your attention. The last time you crossed paths had been during a board meeting, and even then, you exchanged little more than a formal nod. Today, however, she seemed determined to speak with you.
"Professor," she began, her voice carrying a casual tone that felt too practiced to be genuine. "It seems your class is one of the most talked about this semester."
You looked up, studying her face. There was something difficult to decipher thereâa contrast between professional composure and something far more personal.
"I'm just trying to keep things interesting," you replied with a polite smile, doing your best to ignore the faint unease her presence stirred within you.
Maria leaned against the counter, arms crossed in a posture that appeared relaxed, though her gaze remained fixed on you, observing every detail. "Interesting is an understatement. Some teachers spend years trying to make that kind of impact."
You knew it was a compliment, but the way she said it sounded... odd. As if there were layers beneath her words that remained unspoken.
"It's part of the job," you said, keeping your tone neutral.
Maria smiledâa small, enigmatic expression that hinted at something veiled beneath the surface. "Have you always been like this? Passionate about what you do?"
The question caught you off guard. Before you could answer, her eyes narrowed slightly, as though analyzing more than just your words.
"Are you asking if Iâve always wanted to teach?" you asked, attempting to diffuse the tension.
"Not exactly," Maria said, her tone lowering, becoming softer. "I mean... have you always been like this? Strong? Resilient?"
You paused, feeling the weight of her question. The way she spoke stirred old memoriesâones you preferred to keep buried. Times when you had no choice but to be strong, to endure, to survive.
Before you could respond, Maria pressed on, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, but carrying an emotional weight that felt more personal than professional. "Not everyone can turn the scars of their past into something... powerful."
"Do you have kids?" you asked abruptly, steering the conversation away from uncomfortable territory.
"Two," you answered, a softer expression crossing your face as you thought of Billy and Tommy. Just the thought of them brought a brief, calming reprieve.
"Theyâre lucky," Maria murmured, her voice gentle but with an undercurrent of something more complex. "Lucky to have someone like you looking out for them."
âYour husband must be proud,â she added, the statement sounding casual, though her eyes watched you intently, studying your reaction with what could only be described as calculated curiosity.
"I'm not⌠married to a man," you replied evenly, though you felt a warmth creeping up your neck at the subtle shift in the conversation.
Maria tilted her head slightly, absorbing your words with a careful consideration. A faint smile touched her lipsânot one of surprise, but of quiet understanding, as if youâd just confirmed something sheâd long suspected.
"Not married to a man," she repeated slowly, each word deliberate, precise. "Interesting."
The weight of her gaze was palpable, almost tangible, like an invisible pressure pressing against you. Her eyes never wavered, and the intensity of her scrutiny made it hard to breathe.
"And your wife⌠or partner?" Maria continued, her voice dropping to a lower register, each word laden with significance. "Does she understand who you are? Everything youâve been through?"
You took a step back, feeling an all-too-familiar tightness in your chest. Maria had a way of asking questions that cut deeper than they should, as though she could peel back layers of your soul with little more than a glance. Whether she intended to or not, it left you feeling exposed.
"She understands what matters," you said firmly, striving to maintain your composure. "And thatâs enough."
Maria took a step closer, and the air around you seemed to shift. There was nothing overtly threatening about the movement, yet her proximity felt overwhelming, as though each step carried an unspoken intent. Her presence was suffocating, each motion precise, calculated to unsettle you.
"Does she?" Maria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I remember a version of you who didnât have anyone. Who was alone. Vulnerable. And I wonderâŚ"
Her words trailed off, but the impact lingered, each syllable like a key turning in a lock you desperately wanted to keep shut.
"I wonder if that part of you still exists," she continued softly, her tone almost gentle, yet with an undercurrent of sharpness, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. "If thereâs still something inside you that misses itâbeing pushed. Being tested. Being forced to the edge."
Her proximity was unbearable, her warmth pressing against you like a physical force. Her voice, low and steady, seemed to sink into your bones, coaxing out thoughts youâd buried long ago. You tried to take a steadying breath, but it felt as though the very air had been siphoned from the room.
Your nose prickledâa familiar, unwelcome sensationâand you felt the warmth of blood trickling down. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your face, recoiling slightly as you pulled back to see the crimson smear on your fingertips.
Mariaâs gaze followed your movements, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of blood. For a fleeting moment, her expression shiftedâsomething crossed her features that you couldnât quite place. Fascination? Concern? It was gone too quickly to tell. But there was a gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something primal, like she understood more about what was happening to you than you did.
"Are you alright?" Maria asked, her voice carefully controlled, yet carrying a weight that felt almost predatory.
"I'm fine," you said quickly, though your voice trembled slightly. The pounding in your head intensified, each beat reverberating like a drum. Waves of pain radiated outward, distorting your vision and making it hard to focus.
"Are you?" Maria pressed, taking another step toward you. "You donât look fine. In fact⌠you look like youâre about to break."
Her words carried a strange satisfaction, as though sheâd been waiting for thisâfor you to unravel, for your control to slip.
You are our sun.
Shine.
Shine for the world.
The voice returned, insidious and relentless. Your parentsâ mantra echoed in your mind, weaving itself into your consciousness like a thread you couldnât untangle.
"Y/N?" Mariaâs voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. It snapped you back to the present, anchoring you to reality for a fleeting moment.
You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision. Maria stood closer now, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on invasive. There was something predatory in her gazeâsomething that made you feel like prey trapped in a hunterâs sights.
"I said Iâm fine," you repeated, taking another step back. But your body betrayed you, trembling under the strain. It was as if an electric current pulsed beneath your skin, wild and untamed, begging for release.
Maria tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "No, youâre not. Youâre burning from the inside out. I can see it."
Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of satisfaction, as though sheâd been waiting for you to reach this breaking point. Waiting for the cracks in your façade to show.
You are our sun.
Shine for the world.
The pounding in your head grew louder, the mantra intertwining with the pain, with the memories youâd fought so hard to bury. Your vision blurred again, and the room spun, but the voice remained crystal clear.
Maria tilted her head, observing you intently. âYou donât look well. In fact, you look⌠ready to explode.â
There was something in her voiceâa touch of barely concealed satisfaction. As if she had been waiting for this, waiting to see how far youâd go before breaking.
You are our sun.
Shine.
Shine for the world.
The dizziness worsened, the ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. Then, for an instant, you saw somethingâa flickering image in your mind like a broken reflection. Light. A golden glow radiating from you, warm and relentless.
You stumbled, leaning against the nearest wall. âI just⌠need to get out of here.â
You left the room, holding your noseâblood dripping hot between your fingers, unstoppable. Your vision wavered with every step, the world around you distorting as if it were unsteady. The sound of your own shoes against the floor felt muffled, distant, while the pain in your head throbbed relentlessly, a pounding drum deep in your mind.
Every step toward the car felt monumental. The pain spread, no longer confined to your head, but racing down your spine, burning like a line of fire. Sharp stabs concentrated behind your eyes, stealing your breath. Your knees threatened to give out, and you clung to anything nearby, seeking balance.
Shine.
Shine for the world.
The voice was incessant now, growing louder, as if merging with the pain itself. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to make sense of it. But it was impossible. Everything was too muchâthe blood, the pain, the suffocating echo of the words.
When you finally reached your car, your hands trembled so much that you couldnât find the keys. The dizziness worsened, and the world began to spin. You leaned against the car door, breathing deeply, but the oxygen refused to reach your lungs.
In that moment, that second of pure desperation, you heard something. A different voice. More real.
âY/N?â
Lifting your eyes with difficulty, you saw Wanda. She was standing at the doorway to the house, her face a mask of worry. You tried to say something, but your voice failed. The pain was unbearable now, a knife buried deep in your mind.
In an instant, Wanda was by your side. Her red magic shimmered around you, and before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly into her arms.
âWanda, IâŚâ You tried to speak, but the world was spinning so fast it felt like it was collapsing.
âShh,â she murmured, her voice low and urgent. âDonât talk. Iâm here. Iâve got you.â
As Wanda carried you inside, her touch resonated within you. But there was something more. You realized she was feeling the pain too, sharing it in some way. Her face was tense, as though every step was a struggle.
âItâs burning me,â she whispered, her voice filled with awe and pain. âWhatâs happening to you?â
You wanted to respond, to explain, but you had no answers. All that remained was the pain, the blood, and the voice that continued to whisper.
Shine.
Shine for the world.
When you reached the living room, Wanda set you down gently on the couch, her gaze drifting over the blood still dripping from your nose. Her eyes were filled with tears she was holding back through sheer willpower.
âIâll take care of you,â she said firmly, but you saw the fear behind her words. âI promise.â
As she placed her hand on your forehead, trying to channel her magic to ease your pain, all you could feel was the unbearable weight of that voice. And for the first time, you feared it might be right. That you needed to shineâbut at what cost?
The weight was crushing when you opened your eyes. The room was cloaked in shadows, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains, painting soft lines on the floor. Your entire body ached as if it had been crushed by something invisible, but you knew you had to get up.
With effort, you swung your feet onto the floor, trying to find your balance, but the world spun. The dizziness was overwhelming, and your shaky steps betrayed your weakness.
Before you could take more than two steps, the door abruptly opened. Wanda entered, carrying a tray of food, her eyes immediately locking onto you, filled with worry and irritation.
âOh no, you donât!â Her voice was firm, a command that cut through the air. âLie down.â
You tried to protest, but she was already by your side, guiding you back to the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with her authoritative tone. She adjusted the pillows behind you and placed the tray on your lap, filled with hot soup, bread, and a glass of water.
âYouâre going to eat this, and then rest. I donât want to hear another word about getting up.â
Her manner was almost maternal, but the intensity in her eyes revealed something deeper: concern, love, and an almost desperate need to protect you.
When you finished eating, Wanda took the tray and pulled a chair close to your bedside. She held your hand, her fingers stroking yours. Her voice was softer when she finally asked:
âNow tell me⌠What happened?â
You hesitated, but her gaze didnât allow for evasion. Sighing, you began to speak.
âIt was Maria. The school principal. Today, at work. She⌠approached me.â
Wandaâs face immediately hardened, but she remained silent, waiting for you to continue.
âShe started talking about the past. About who I used to be under her authority. I⌠I donât know how to explain it, Wanda. Something she said threw me off, and my head started pounding.â
You felt Wandaâs gaze intensify, but the words kept flowing, like a painful confession.
âShe humiliated me back in high school, pushed me in ways I didnât understand. I hated it, but at the same time⌠I liked it. Liked the way she was cruel to me. Like there was power in it, something that made me feel alive in a strange, twisted way.â
The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of your uneven breathing. Wanda remained still, but the magic around her began to pulse in soft red hues, like a racing heartbeat.
âToday, she did it again,â you continued, your voice trembling. âShe got close, so close I could smell her. She asked about my life, pressed me with that tone that made me want to disappear. And I⌠I felt like I did back then. Small and insecure. I couldnât react. My body just⌠gave in.â
Wandaâs green eyes were locked on yours now, and you saw something in them that made you shiver: anger, jealousy, and an intensity that seemed capable of setting the world ablaze.
âYouâre telling me,â Wanda began, her voice low and controlled but electric with tension, âthat this woman⌠thinks she has any claim over you?â
You tried to speak, but she didnât give you the chance.
âThinks she can pressure you, humiliate you, and get away with it?â The veins at her temples were visible now, her magic flickering around her fingers like flames.
âWanda, Iââ
âNo.â She stood, her power surging around her, almost tangible in the air. âYou are mine. And no one, absolutely no one, has the right to do this to you. Not Maria. Not anyone.â
The weight of her declaration hung between you, and for a moment, you didnât know whether to feel fear, relief, or both. All you knew was that despite her intensity, Wandaâs presence was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality in that moment.
With a rough gesture, Wanda grabbed your chin to make you look at her.
The air seemed to vibrate with Wandaâs energy, charged with emotions you could barely process. Her power was there, pulsing beneath the surface, illuminating the room in crimson hues like a storm about to erupt. The question hung between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.
âDid you enjoy it?â
Her voice was low, but there was something dangerous in it, something that made your heart race. Her grip on your chin wasnât gentle; it was possessive. Wanda held you as if the mere act of looking away would be an unforgivable offense.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. All you could do was feelâher overwhelming presence, the heat radiating from her, the knot forming in your throat as you struggled to process everything.
âAnswer me.â
Her fingers tightened slightly, her green eyes blazing like fire. âDid you like what Maria did to you?â
Did you know the answer wasnât simple? Nothing about this was simple. Part of you wanted to deny it, to walk away from this conversation, but another part... the part Wanda seemed to see so clearly... knew there was no escape.
âIâŚâ Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in your throat. âI hated it. And... at the same timeâŚâ
Wanda tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, focused on every nuance of your words.
âGo on. Keep talking.â
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to summon strength. But all you could see was red â the red of her magic, the red of her anger, the red that seemed to color every thought in your mind.
âPart of me liked it because... because it reminded me,â you finally admitted, each word an effort. âReminded me of how I used to feel. Of who I used to be.â
Wandaâs expression hardened, and you saw the pain your words caused. But she didnât pull away. On the contrary, she stepped even closer, until your faces were nearly touching, her breath warm against your skin.
âAnd do you miss that?â The question came low, almost a growl.
You shook your head quickly. âNo. I donât want to be that person again.â
âThen why did you let it happen?â Her tone was merciless, but there was a vulnerability buried in it, a fear she couldnât quite hide.
âBecause Iâm broken,â you whispered, your voice trembling. âBecause part of me still believes I deserve it.â
Wanda exhaled slowly, as though trying to contain her fury. Her fingers slid to your neck, pressing lightly, as if she wanted to feel your racing pulse beneath your skin.
âYou donât deserve that,â she said at last, her voice softer, yet still full of intensity. âYou never did. You were young, weak⌠Maybe you still are, arenât you? Of course, youâd let her have some kind of control over you.â
Wanda tilted her head, her fingers still firm around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel the rapid beating of your heart. Her eyes never left yours, piercing, as if she wanted to strip away every secret you still hid.
âYou see yourself as a victim,â Wanda murmured, almost with disgust. âA puppet anyone can manipulate. But do you know what I see?â
You swallowed hard, your entire body on alert, every cell vibrating under her touch. âWhat?â
âI see a woman who needs to be broken in a different way.â
The tension in the room became almost unbearable. The heat, the silence interrupted only by the sound of your ragged breaths, and Wandaâs overpowering presence made the air feel heavy. Every word she spoke was an electric current running down your spine, igniting every nerve, every hidden desire.
Wandaâs fingers slid along your collarbone, the touch as light as a whisper. But there was a promise in the slow, deliberate movement, one that made your skin burn. You knew she was testing your limits â but you also knew Wanda wasnât the kind to tolerate resistance for long.
âBroken⌠in a way that youâll beg never to be fixed,â Wanda continued, her voice low and husky, as her fingers trailed up your neck, closing around your throat. âI can feel your heart beating here.â She pressed lightly, her thumb against your racing pulse. âI wonder who itâs beating for.â
You tried to respond, but the words wouldnât come. All you managed was a strangled sound, a mix of surprise and pleasure.
âWhatâs the matter?â Wanda smirked slowly, her eyes gleaming with malice. âCat got your tongue, little doll? Still thinking about her?â She spat the words.
You opened your mouth to deny it, but the firm grip on your throat turned any attempt at a response into a shaky moan. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity in Wandaâs gaze made your entire body tremble.
Wandaâs face was a mask of control on the verge of breaking. Fury and jealousy burned in her eyes like a storm threatening to consume you entirely. Her grip on your throat was firm but didnât hurt â at least not in the way you expected. Instead, every touch of hers made something inside you melt, every word laden with a dark desire that made your whole body hum.
âYou should know,â she murmured, her tone low and rough, almost a warning. âYou should know that no one else can have you. No one else can make you feel what I do.â
Her fingers tightened slightly, and you felt the pressure increase, the air growing scarce but still enough to keep you conscious. Wanda controlled every breath, every sensation â and you didnât want her to stop.
âAnd yet, you let someone else get close,â she continued, her voice dripping with disdain and possessiveness. âYou let another woman believe she had any right to you.â
âIââ you tried to speak, but Wanda increased the pressure, silencing you again.
âNo,â she growled. âI donât want excuses. I want you to understand one thing.â
She leaned in until her lips brushed yours, never easing her grip. Her breath, when it finally reached you, was hot and heavy with restrained anger.
âYouâre mine,â she declared, every word a command that seared into your skin. âYouâve always been mine. And now⌠now youâll pay for letting yourself believe, even for a second, that anyone else could possess you.â
Your eyes closed as a shiver ran through your body. Her tone, the firm touch on your throat, the promise of punishment â it all made the heat inside you rise to an unbearable level. You felt your body respond to her authority as if it were made to fit perfectly under Wandaâs control.
âLook at me,â she ordered.
Your eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. There was something primal there, a raw need mingled with her anger. You didnât just see jealousy â you saw obsession. You saw love in its most dangerous, possessive form.
âWhoâs your heart beating for, Y/n?â Wanda repeated, her eyes narrowing as her thumb pressed against your pulse. âFor me⌠or for her?â
You knew what the right answer was. You knew exactly what Wanda wanted to hear. But at the same time, something pulled you toward the abyssâa desire to provoke her, to test the limits of her control, to see how far she would go to reclaim the authority she never should have lost.
So, instead of answering, you remained silent.
Wandaâs smile faded. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, ominous hum of her magic lingering in the air.
âSilence?â Wanda arched an eyebrow, her tone almost mocking, laced with dangerous amusement. âStill thinking about her, perhaps? Thinking about what she did to you?â
âNo!â you cried out, the sound hoarse, choked by the invisible grip around your throat. âI only think of you. Only you, Mommy.â
For a fleeting moment, her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth crossing her featuresâbut it disappeared just as quickly. Her anger returned, simmering beneath the surface, more intense than before.
âAm I supposed to believe that?â Wanda asked, tilting her head slightly, studying you as if dissecting your very soul. âAfter what you did? After you allowed someone else to touch what is mine?â
She lowered her head until her lips brushed your ear, her voice low, intimate, dripping with both threat and promise.
âIâll break you, my little doll,â she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. âIâll make you remember who you belong to.â
The constriction around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a shuddering breath, but Wanda gave you no time to recover. In one swift, calculated move, she claimed your mouth in a fierce, almost brutal kiss, her teeth scraping your bottom lip, drawing blood.
You whimpered against her mouth, your body surrendering entirely to the control she demanded. Tears streamed down your face, the salty droplets mingling with the metallic taste of blood on your lips.
âThatâs it,â Wanda murmured, her voice softening as she pulled back slightly, her fingers caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. âCry for me. Show me you understand.â
Her gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. Her fingertips traced the contours of your face, the touch deceptively gentle.
âI want all of you,â Wanda said, her tone a mix of tenderness and authority. âYour body, your mind, your heart. Everything.â
You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers. âIâm already yours.â
âThen prove it,â she whispered, the words carrying weight, dripping with expectation. âProve to me that you are mine. And only mine.â
The air around you both vibrated with her magic, the energy suffocating and comforting all at once. You knew she was about to push you to your limitsâand deep down, you craved it more than anything.
Your tears streamed freely, thick droplets tracing down your cheeks as you whispered, âDo whatever you want with me, Mommy. Punish me. I deserve it.â
Wanda wasnât finished punishing you. Her rage was palpableâit hung in the air like a storm ready to break, crackling in every word, every movement. She stepped back for a moment, pacing slowly across the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. The suspense only heightened your anticipation.
âWhatâs your safe word?â she asked, her voice steady, controlled. She wasnât testing your limitsâshe was daring you to withstand more.
âCrimson,â you answered, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper.
Wanda stopped pacing, her darkened eyes locking onto yours. Slowly, with deliberate precision, she walked to a nearby wardrobe and opened it. Your heart raced as you watched her pull out a black leather belt, worn and heavyâa symbol of unyielding authority, of her dominion over you.
The sound of the belt sliding through her fingers echoed in the quiet room, sending a shiver down your spine.
âDo you know why youâre being punished?â Wanda asked, taking a step toward you, folding the belt carefully in her hands.
âYes,â you replied without hesitation. Your voice was steady, but inside, you trembledâwith anticipation, with desire, with a desperate need to be hers.
âThen say it.â She stopped in front of you, her gaze smoldering, intense. âTell me why you deserve this.â
âBecause I⌠I let another woman dominate me,â you whispered, your eyes dropping to the floor in shame. âI let her believe she had power over me.â
The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. Wanda remained still for several long moments, simply watching you, analyzing every breath, every tremor.
âOn your knees,â she commanded, her voice low but absolute.
You dropped to your knees without a second thought, your palms resting on your thighs, your gaze still lowered. Wanda circled you slowly, the sound of her footsteps reverberating through the room, each step increasing the tension, the fire burning beneath your skin.
âLook at me,â she ordered.
You lifted your head, meeting her gaze, and what you saw in her eyes made your entire body shudder. There was anger, yesâbut there was something deeper, more profound. Reverence. As if you were a sacrifice offered to her, a precious possession that she would never let go.
âWhat are you?â Wanda asked, leaning closer, her face mere inches from yours.
âIâm yours,â you replied without hesitation, your voice steady, resolute.
âWhose?â Her grip on the belt tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of her fingers.
âYours, Wanda. Only yours.â
A predatory smile spread across her lips, dangerous and alluring. Wanda stepped back, raising the belt, running it slowly through her fingers as if savoring the anticipation.
âLie down,â she commanded.
You obeyed instantly, lying on the bed, your body tense yet aching for her touch. Wanda climbed onto the bed beside you, kneeling next to you, the belt gliding over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
âYou deserve to be punished,â she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline with deceptive tenderness. âAnd I will teach you what happens when you forget who you belong to.â
The first strike was sudden, unexpected. The sharp crack of the belt against your skin echoed in the room, and your back arched instinctively, a strangled moan escaping your lips. The sting burned, yet awakened something primal inside youâa deep, insatiable need to surrender completely.
âCount,â Wanda demanded, her voice unyielding.
âOne,â you gasped, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
Another strike, this one harder. The heat radiated from the point of impact, and you whimpered, your body trembling with the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.
âTwo.â
Wanda maintained a steady rhythm, each strike precise, calculated. Each lash of the belt was a reminderâa mark of her ownership over you, etched not just into your skin but into your very soul.
As you counted each number, the tension between you grew, thickening the air around you. The magic surrounding Wanda crackled, her power tangible, suffocating yet intoxicating.
When you reached the tenth strike, your voice broke, tears streaming down your face. But they werenât tears of painâthey were tears of release, of surrender. Of absolute devotion.
Wanda stopped, the belt falling to her side. She leaned over you, her fingers once again brushing your tears away with an almost reverent gentleness.
âMy little doll,â she whispered, her voice soft, affectionate. âLook at you. So beautiful like this. So completely mine.â
You sobbed quietly, your body trembling under her touch, every part of you laid bare before her.
âThank you,â you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. âThank you, Mommy.â
Wandaâs smile softened, though the possessiveness in her gaze remained. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. The taste of her was everything you neededâa reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be
âThis,â she murmured against your lips. âNow you understand.â
And you did. Every mark on your skin, every tear shed, every whispered wordâit was all an oath. A silent promise that you belonged to Wanda. That you always had.
âMy good girl,â Wanda whispered, her lips now brushing against your ear. âAnd no one⌠no one⌠will take you from me.â
The intensity of her words made your heart race even faster. Wandaâs hand ran down your neck to your chest, pressing you into the mattress, as if she were holding you both physically and emotionally.
Her eyes burned with something that went beyond anger. It was adoration, obsession, a love so deep and fierce that it seemed capable of consuming the entire world if it had to.
Wandaâs hands caressed the red skin of your ass. The contrast of the cold of her hands against your hot, abused skin. Her long fingers caressed your outer lips, feeling how wet you were. She uses your lubrication and takes it to your asshole, making your eyes widen in surprise.
âOh⌠Look at that,â Wanda murmured with a cruel smile, her fingers still caressing your wet folds, slipping easily between the heat and desire that dripped from you. âSo wet just from being spanked? From being put in your place?â
You moaned, trying to hide in the bed, but there was no escaping her. Wanda knew every part of you â body and mind. She knew exactly how to press until you had no choice but to surrender.
She laughed softly, and her laugh was both a comfort and a torture. âYouâre such a desperate slut, arenât you? How does it feel to have my finger in your asshole?â
The humiliation burned your skin, but it was a fire that only increased your desire. You tried to open your mouth to protest, but Wanda was already lowering her hand again. Not to hit you this time, but to slide her wet finger into your other hole, circling it slowly, threatening to enter.
âSurprise?â Her voice was a whisper of pure sin. âDo you think Iâll spare you after what you did? Do you think I wonât claim whatâs mine?â
You felt her finger press into your ass, teasing the entrance to your anus, a slight push that made you arch your back and let out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled, torn between discomfort and the overwhelming pleasure that was about to explode.
âOh. Look at that⌠A little slut who loves having all her holes used, isnât she?â She pressed even harder, making your eyes roll back with the mind-blowing pleasure. The massage her fingers did in the spot was skillful, making you want more and push your ass against Wanda.
âBeg.â She said through her teeth, making circular movements in your ass. âBeg mommy to fuck your virgin ass.â
Saliva slowly dripped from the corners of your mouth, forming a shiny thread that fell onto the sheets beneath you. Your mind was in a dense fog, as if reality itself had dissolved around the intensity of the moment.
âMommy, pleaseâŚâ Your tongue curled as you spoke due to the amount of saliva accumulated in your mouth.
âTry again.â Her rigid voice left no room for questioning.
âMommy, pleaseâ Fuck, fuck me. Use all my holes however you want. Use me.â You cried out, whimpering. You begged for her. You had been a bad girl, but here you were seeking redemption.
âItâs something like thisâŚâ Wanda murmured, her voice hoarse as if each word was impregnated with repressed desire and pure fury.
The air around you seemed to vibrate with her intensityânot just her magic, but the emotional storm that Wanda carried within her. Jealousy. Anger. And an obsession that burned so hot it could incinerate anything it touched.
âP- Please touch my pussy, please, please, please,â you cried out, but Wanda only hummed.
âNo, you donât deserve to be touched there.â Wanda said, pushing the tip of her third finger into you.
Removing her fingers from you, she grabbed the bottle of lube and lubed up your strap-on. She pulled the toy out, needing to spread the lube around and what was the perfect way to do that? âYou let me know if you need me to add lube, got it?â
âYes- Yes, just fuck me already.â You trembled beneath the older woman.
You felt your hair being pulled at the roots, making you arch your back towards Wanda and stick your ass up against her strap-on. âYou think you can give me orders now? Huh?!â She tugged hard on the strands, making you scream.
The scent of sandalwood filled the air around you, intoxicating your senses, making it impossible to even form a coherent thought. Each breath seemed to pull Wanda deeper into you, until all that was left was her overwhelming presenceâburning like a secret you never wanted to confess.
Her fingers slid across your scarred skin, sending shivers down your spine.
âYou should be so grateful,â Wanda murmured, her tone thick with contempt and adoration mixed into one sentence. âEven with that foolish mind of yours, that dared to stop thinking about me⌠Iâm still here.â She leaned her face down until her lips brushed your ear, her voice so low it sounded like an inverted prayer. âMommy is here⌠giving you exactly what you need.â
The weight of her words made your breath hitch, your entire body shaking under Wandaâs relentless control. Your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth of her presence consume you completely.
âThank you,â you murmured, your voice weak and broken. But it wasnât enough. âThank you, Mommy,â you repeated, more firmly this time, as if each word was an offering.
âYou should be grateful. Do you think Maria can give you that?â This sense of belonging, this love?â She growls as she pushes an inch inside you.
âWandsâŚâ You moan needily, and receive a thrust so hard that it makes you gasp in pain.
âThat name. You are not to use it now, understand? Not while you are nothing to me, nothing but a hole for me to use.â She snapped, tears welling in your eyes. You turned your head so she couldnât see.
âGood, now that itâs all in, you will tell me when I can start fucking you. And I wonât start until you give me the green light, Dekta.â She soothed.
You nodded, shuddering as she pushed the rest of the toy inside you. As she promised, Wanda stood still, rubbing your lower back as she waited for you to adjust. You waited ten minutes, wanting to get used to the feeling. The strapon she was using was a size you werenât used to, especially in your ass. But it wasnât unbearable, and when you looked at Wanda and nodded, you gave her the go-ahead.
The witch began to fuck you at a slow pace, wanting to make sure she wasnât actually hurting you. As much of a bad girl as you had been, you were still her girl. And nothing in the world would change that.
âGod, the mess youâre making of me just because I have my dick in your ass. Youâre so fucking pathetic.â She laughed, picking up the pace.
Wanda leaned over you, her weight crushing both your skin and your soul, making it clear who was in control. Her fingers slid around your waist, squeezing with an inhuman strength, while her eyes burned with that corrosive jealousy that hadnât yet dissipated.
Her voice came low, slurred, each word laced with venom and possession. "Do you think Maria saw you the way I do? Do you think she felt what I feel for you? No. She only saw something to use. An easy toy to break. And you let her."
You tried to shake your head, but Wanda wouldn't let you. The tightness in your throat tightened a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to silence you.
"You're mine. But do you want to know the truth?" She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching yours. "Without me, you're nothing."
The words cut deep, a direct blow to your pride, but strangely, you felt heat spread throughout your body. Each insult was a testament to how much Wanda caredâher love was fierce, sickening, but it was also undeniable.
"Repeat it," she demanded, her fingers now slowly sliding to your jaw, keeping your face up so you couldn't look away. "Tell me who you are without me."
Your bottom lip trembled, shame and desire fighting inside you.
"I⌠I am nothing."
"Louder."
"I am nothing!" You screamed, your voice shaky and desperate, feeling the tears burn your eyes. "I am only something because you made me be!"
Wanda's fury was a weight in the air. Every beat of her heart seemed to set the environment around her on fire, her magic pulsing like a living creature, thirsting for more. Her fingers trembled as they slid through the leather belt she still held, but not from insecurity â it was the anger that bubbled inside her, a storm of emotions she could barely contain.
Maria's name echoed in Wanda's mind like a curse.
Maria.
This woman who dared to touch what didn't belong to her. Who dared to think, for a single second, that she could have you. Who could break you as if Wanda hadn't molded every piece of your soul with her presence, her touch, her burning love.
The jealousy burning inside Wanda was a wildfire, and her magic danced around her in responseâdeep red, dark crimson, like freshly spilled blood. The energy crackled at her fingertips, leaving a trail of sparks across the room as she paced in slow circles, like a predator stalking its prey.
âDid she have you?â The question reverberated in her mind, and the answer hurt like a raw blade. It didnât matter that you were here, at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It didnât matter that your every word was a promise of submission. All Wanda could see was another woman daring to believe she had any control over you.
Wanda knew what it was like to be marked by the past. She knew what it was like to carry the scars of pain, of abandonment, of loss. But to see youâthe one thing in the world that made your darkness seem bearableâtouched by another? That was unforgivable.
âDid she make you moan?â
âDid she see that look in your eyes?â
âDid she know how to make you beg?â
Each question fueled Wandaâs anger, and the magic around her responded with a perfect reflection of her emotions. The crimson sparks turned into strands of energy that snaked through the air, dancing like serpents around Wanda. The intensity of the magic increased with each dark thought that passed through her mind.
But what really made Wanda burn with jealousyâwhat made her want to rip out her own heart so she wouldnât feel so muchâwas the fact that you let this happen.
You, who were hers.
You, who belonged to her from the moment your eyes met.
You, who were now marked not only by Wanda, but by another woman.
âNo, Mommy. She never took me for her own. Iâm only yours.â You murmured with difficulty, but firmly.
Wandaâs smile was cruel and satisfied. And it surprised you when you felt your clit being massaged by her fingers. âMommy was very happy now.â She says and plants a kiss behind your ear, and now, the thrusts become hard and rough.
âMommyâs little girlâs ass is so tightâŚâ She murmurs without eloquence, just feeling, just corrupting your untouched body.
Wandaâs fingers tightened around your waist, her knuckles turning white. She knew she needed to release this energy before she lost control. But first, she needed something moreâshe needed to hear it from you. She needed to be sure that every inch of you still belonged to her.
She stepped closer slowly, her green eyes shining like emeralds beneath the crimson glow of the magic that still floated through the room. Jealousy brimmed in her voice as she whispered,
âSay it again. Who do you belong to?â
âYou,â you murmured, your eyes brimming with tears.
âItâs not enough.â Her voice grew lower, more menacing. âSay her name.â
You hesitated for a moment, fear and shame mingling in your gaze.
âMariaâŚâ The name fell from her lips in an embarrassed whisper.
Wanda shivered. The magic around her flared brighter, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to fill with that dark red.
âShe thought she could have you.â Wanda smiled, but it was a cruel smile, sharp as a blade. âShe thought it could be me.â
Her eyes flared, and the anger that had once seemed ready to explode was replaced by something even more dangerous: a calculated calm.
âShe wonât think that anymore.â Wandaâs voice was low, a warning. âIâll make sure Maria understands exactly who you belong to.â
Wandaâs magic fed on jealousy, on the desire to possess. And the more she thought about Mariaâthis intruder, this threatâthe more powerful it became. The crimson sparks began to solidify, forming currents of energy that fluttered around Wanda, as if waiting for an order.
But for now, Wanda turned her attention to you. Because before she could deal with Maria, she needed to make sure you understood.
That you would never make the mistake of giving yourself to anyone other than her again. She gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.
âYouâll thank me for this,â Wanda whispered. âYouâll thank me for reminding you of who you are. Who you belong to.â Her touch burned, but it was a fire you craved. Because despite everything, despite the anger, the jealousy, the painâyou knew this was where you wanted to be.
âThank you, Mommy,â you whispered, your entire body shaking under her intense gaze.
âGood girl.â Wanda smiled slowly, satisfied. But deep in her eyes there was still an unspoken promiseâa promise that Maria would pay. Because Wanda was not someone who forgave easily.
Your orgasm was building with each thrust, you didnât even know it could feel this good. But she found you begging for her: âMommy, please! Forgive me, please, please! I need to be forgiven so much.â You cried, tears streaming from your eyes as you slobbered all over her mattress with your saliva and juices.
The sound of your sobs, the way you begged, made Wanda tremble all over. She tried to hold her breath, but her body betrayed any attempt at control. Her hands were steady, but her fingers trembled slightly as they caressed your tear-stained face. The weight of your wordsââMommy, please! Forgive me, please, please!ââechoed in her head like a song that fed her ego and her obsession.
You were so small, so surrendered, so broken. All that was left was a fragile, submissive creature, molded by Wandaâs hands, desperate for approval. She knew Maria could never have seen you like this. She would never have understood the absolute power that came from reducing you to thisâto something pure, vulnerable, wanting to be molded, guided, belonging entirely to her.
The sight of you lying there, sweating, crying, your lips wet and your face pressed into the mattress as your saliva dripped like a glistening stream, was intoxicating. The absolute control Wanda had over you made her own pulse race. The corrosive jealousy of before gave way to something even darker and more pleasurable: the knowledge that you were hers alone.
âLook at you,â Wanda whispered, her voice shaking slightly. She couldnât help itâa low, incredulous laugh escaped her lips. âSo beautiful, so⌠pathetic. Begging as if your life depended on it.â
She gripped your chin, lifting your face. Your eyes were glassy, ââlost in submission, and Wanda almost groaned at how broken you wereâand how perfect it was.
She began to ease her thrusts into your ass and leaned down to place hot kisses on your back, an affectionate and reverent act. You were so precious, the most beautiful thing Wanda had ever had the pleasure of holding in her hands.
Wanda pulls out of you, missing the feeling of having you squeezing her. You huff, whimper, growl at not getting what you want and Wanda finds it adorable.
âWhat do you want?â She teased, already massaging the needy entrance to your pussy.
At that moment, there was nothing more urgent than this. You needed this, like you needed air to breathe.
âMommy! Please touch my pussy. I canât take it anymore.â You say in a shaky breath, your whole body trembling. âI need to be filled.â You begged, and heard a needy moan coming from her. It was clear, now this was torture for both of you.
âFuck, turn around. I need to fuck you now.â She growled, pulling you into a claiming kiss.
The world seemed to stop the instant Wanda pulled you in, her strength and urgency drawing a gasp of surprise from your lips. There was nothing soft about the way she kissed youâit was a growl turned into action, raw and hungry, as if she were trying to engrave her possession into every cell of your being.
Her fingers sank into your hair, tugging at it with a firmness that made your scalp tingle, while her other hand anchored itself around your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. The kiss was a fierce collision of lips, teeth, and desire, as if she wanted to devour you whole.
You could barely breathe, lost in her overwhelming heat, in the magic that seemed to vibrate in every inch of your skin. Her taste was a mix of anger and something deeperâsomething primal and possessive, that made your heart hammer and your legs threaten to give way.
And when she entered you, her eyes turned completely red and frightening. The pleasure she felt was not one of those safe types, it was corrosive, it made you burn inside.
âFuck, that feels so much better nowâŚâ Wandaâs tone seemed lost in you, in your surrender and confidence. âMommy wants her little girl to cum like this.â She murmurs in a slow rhythm, while biting the curve of your neck and inhaling the scent there.
âOh, fuck, mommyââ You moaned loudly when you felt her cock hit the spongy spot inside you. âTell me that you love me. That even after I messed up, youâre still obsessed with me.â You said in a dangerous impulse inside you.
Wandaâs body tensed at your words, her eyes shining with a mix of desire and something deeperâan abyss that she herself seemed unable to control. She didnât respond immediately, and the silence between you was heavy, heavy, like the pause before a storm.
âTell me,â you repeated, your voice a little lower, but no less provocative. It was a dangerous impulse, yes, but also a raw need to hear the words come out of her lips.
âIâŚâ Wandaâs breathing was ragged, lust burning like liquid fire in her veins. Her hand came up to cup your face, her fingers trembling with an emotion she couldnât name as she thrust inside you. âI love you. More than I should. More than is safe.â
The words came out almost like a forced confession, and yet there was an undeniable firmness to them. Wanda seemed lost, as if the intensity of her own feelings were drowning her, but she couldnât stop.
âDo you think itâs obsession?â She continued, her voice hoarse, almost a whisper. âMaybe it is. Because when I look at you, I canât think of anything else. I canât breathe without wanting you closer. Without wanting you all to myself.â
You felt her body tremble against yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability that seemed to swallow the air between you. It was as if Wanda was completely intoxicated by what she felt, unable to contain herself. With you squeezing around her, sucking her cockâextracting all of her milk, making her spill inside you.
âI love you so muchâŚ!â Your back arched on the king-size bed, making Wanda bury herself deeper inside you. âSo much, mommyâŚâ You curl your fingers between her red strands, feeling the softness.
âFuck. Iâm going to fuck you so fucking hard.â She growled, increasing her movementsâfrantic and desperate. Wanda was going to cum, and she would cum hard.
Your breasts rubbed together, your nipples hard as rocks with excitement. And it was when she fingered your clit that you lost it. Your hips and legs trembled around her.
âCum. Cum for mommy, little slut.â Wanda moaned in a slurred, needy tone, thrusting so deep that her hips were uncontrollably slamming into yours. âShit. Youâre so beautifulâŚâ
âMommy!â
You came, repeating her title like a sacred mantra, your legs shaking and swaying around the woman who kept thrustingâalso already giving in to her own orgasm.
Wandaâs orgasm came like a volcanic eruption, a release so overwhelming that it seemed to tear the very fabric of reality around her. It was more than physical pleasureâit was power, pure, intoxicating magic, poured directly into you, as if each thrust was an offering, each moan an ancient chant that awakened something dormant deep within the sorceress.
She had never felt anything like it.
Sweat dripped from her forehead, dripping onto her hot skin, mixing with the tears and saliva you had already shed. But the trembling in your legs and the fire burning in your belly were clear signs that this wasnât just a climaxâit was a fusion. A part of her, an essence, a fragment of her very being, was being deposited within you like a mystical seed that would soon blossom.
âFuck, this isâŚâ Wanda gasped, unable to find words, her knees sinking into the mattress as her body convulsed with pleasure. The intensity left her staggering, barely able to maintain her balance, as if the weight of the moment were too great to bear. With each tremor, with each contraction of your inner muscles around her, Wanda felt her magic reactâsparking, pulsing, flowing into you like a river that overflowed beyond any control.
She gasped, her fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. âYou⌠fuck, youâre mine.â Her voice came out hoarse, almost like an animalistic growl. âAll of this⌠everything you feel⌠belongs to me now.â
You repeated her title like a sacred mantra, your voice shaky and punctuated by moans. âMommy⌠MommyâŚâ With each time you said it, Wanda felt her pleasure amplify, reverberating within her own body, until the peak was so overwhelming that she thought she might shatter completely.
When she finally collapsed on top of you, her face pressed against your neck, Wanda could still feel her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. But what truly left her breathless was the absolute certainty that coursed through her body like an electric current: you were marked by her. Indelible. Irrevocable.
âDo you feel it?â Wanda whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. Her voice was low but carried a weight of power. âThis is a part of me now, inside you. Growing. Taking root. Youâll never get rid of it.â
The thought made Wanda shiver again. Maria would never have this. She could never touch your soul the way Wanda did. You werenât just her lover or her submissive anymore â you were an extension of her, the reflection of her magic and her obsession.
It was as if something vibrated beneath your skin, an invisible seed that Wanda had planted within you â something deeper than any physical touch, more penetrating than any word. Her presence was there, latent, like a magical current pulsing inside you, radiating through every cell, every nerve.
It was power.
And at the same time, it was devastation.
You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as if it might burst at any moment, your legs still trembling around her thighs. Your breathing was ragged, but the air seemed insufficient, as though the world around you had changed â as though you had changed.
Wanda had left something inside you.
Something that was growing. Blooming.
Every mark on your skin burned like a silent vow. You belonged to her, and now her magic itself was woven into you â alive, pulsing, demanding to be acknowledged. Your fingers clenched into fists beside the mattress as a tremor ran through your entire body, residual pleasure mixed with a fear you couldnât trace back to its origin.
Then everything shifted.
The lights in the room flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And then⌠darkness.
Your head began to spin. You felt a mounting pressure in your ears, a buzzing that seemed to come from within you, as if something were trying to emerge, to break through the surface. Your vision blurred, and the familiar scent of iron filled your nostrils.
Your nose was bleeding.
You brought a trembling hand to your face, touching the blood that slowly dripped down toward your mouth. The metallic taste mixed with the saliva still glistening at the corners of your lips, and you tried to speak, but no sound came out. Everything around you felt distorted, as if the world were spinning on an axis you couldnât follow.
And then, the voice came.
Shine.
It was like a whisper, but it also echoed like thunder inside your mind.
Shine for the world.
Your body stiffened. The words reverberated within you, pulsing in time with the magic Wanda had left behind. The pain in your temples intensified, as though something was about to explode inside your skull. Each heartbeat sent a wave of agony through your body.
âNo⌠noâŚâ you tried to say, but the voice ignored your resistance.
You are mine.
It was no longer Wandaâs voice.
It was something older. Deeper.
Something that had always been inside you â waiting to awaken.
You rolled onto the floor, pressing your palms against the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to something real, something solid. But everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Your body shook, as if it might shatter under the weight of the magic coursing through your veins.
âI canâtâŚâ you murmured, your voice broken. âI canâtââ
You will shine.
The voice laughed.
Because thatâs what you were born for. Thatâs what you were made to do.
And you knew there was no escape. Wandaâs seed had been planted within you â and now it was beginning to bloom.
But it wasnât just power growing inside you.
It was destruction.
And, at the same time, a promise that you would never be the same again.
âPleaseâŚâ you whimpered, not knowing if you were speaking to the voice or to Wanda. âPlease, mommy⌠donât leave me alone.â
The lights continued to flicker, and the metallic scent of blood in the air made Wanda frown, her gaze darkening with confusion and concern.
âSweetheart?â Her voice was low, husky, still carrying the remnants of the possessive authority from before, but now there was something more. Something deeply maternal. Protective.
She saw you on your knees, trembling, and the sight hit her like a blow to the chest. The blood dripping from your nose made her heart stop for a moment. This wasnât the kind of submission she wanted. This was pain. Real. Cruel. And, worse still, it was something she didnât understand.
âHeyâŚâ Wanda knelt beside you, her fingers trembling as she cupped your face. âPlease, look at me. Iâm here.â
You couldnât. Your head was still spinning, the sound of that voice echoing like distant bells inside your mind. Shine. Shine for the world. The words kept hammering at you, as though they were being etched into your skin with fire.
âI canâtâŚâ you whispered, sobbing. âItâs here. Inside me. Something⌠something is wrongâŚâ
Wandaâs eyes widened, and her concern turned to panic. âWho? Whoâs inside you? Maria?â Her voice was a low growl.
You shook your head frantically, your fingers clutching at the fabric of Wandaâs shirt like an anchor. âNo⌠itâs not her. Itâs something⌠A voice. Something thatâs trying to use me.â
âNo.â Wandaâs voice hardened, and the magic around her began to crackle in the air, sparks escaping from her fingertips. âNo one will use you. No one!â
She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her strong arms around your trembling body. Her touch was firm, but there was no anger left. There was a fierce tenderness now, a possessive care that seemed to say: If the world dares to touch you, it will have to go through me first.
âI wonât let anything hurt you,â Wanda promised, her voice a fierce whisper against your ear. âDo you hear me? No matter what it is, no matter who it is. Iâm your mother. I will protect you.â
You sobbed against her chest, feeling the security that only Wanda could offer. Even when everything inside you was falling apart, she was thereâsolid, unchanging.
"I'm so confused," you murmured against her skin. "My head... my head hurts so much..."
Wanda stroked your hair, her fingers gently gliding through the damp strands. "Shh... I know. I know, my love. Mommy's here. You don't have to do anything alone."
Her magic began to envelop you both, a comforting warmth that pushed the darkness away for a moment. Yet, even so, Wanda felt something strangeâsomething coming from within you. A magic that wasnât hers.
Shine. Shine for the world.
Wanda frowned. Those words werenât hers, but they lingered in the air like a curse.
"You won't shine for anyone but me," Wanda growled softly, almost as if talking to herself. "You are my light. And no one will extinguish you."
She pulled your face to look into your eyesâher fingers firm yet gentle as she wiped the blood from your nose with her thumb. Your face was streaked with tears and saliva, lips slightly parted in a state of absolute vulnerability. It was the most devastating thing Wanda had ever seen.
"I will take care of you."
Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "Whatever it is... we'll face it together."
You tried to smile, but the fear still lingered in your eyes. Wanda saw it, and something inside her roared like an enraged bear.
"Whoever did this to you..." Wanda held your face more firmly, her eyes burning with restrained fury. "I will destroy them. Iâll tear apart every single piece of whoever dared to hurt my girl."
You shook your head frantically, panic rising. "No, Wanda... this is inside me."
"Then I'll go inside you too," she said with fierce conviction. "I'll rip it out. I'll cleanse you. I'll keep you safe. And you'll never feel this again."
But as Wanda spoke, you heard that voice in your mind again.
Shine.
It laughed.
Shine⌠until there's nothing left.
And then, everything went dark.
[...]
While you lay unconscious on the couch, Wanda was restless. She paced the room like a caged animal, her fingers trembling with the magic she was desperately trying to contain. After what had happenedâyour collapse, the blood, the painâshe felt it. She knew she couldnât wait any longer. There was something greater, something darker, tied to your necklace, tied to you, and she needed to figure out what it was.
But she didnât know how.
In a desperate move, she did what she had avoided for months: she reached out to Carol, suspended on the brink between life and death. Wanda had placed Captain Marvel in that state, confining her to a space where her consciousness was held in suspension. But now, the weight of guilt and the need for answers outweighed her hesitations.
Wanda took a deep breath, and with a flick of her fingers, her red magic enveloped Carol. Slowly, she brought her back. Carol's body convulsed, a scream caught in her throat as she opened her eyes.
"You..." Carol whispered, her voice hoarse from so much time in silence, her eyes wide in shock and disbelief that she had allowed herself to be overtaken by Wanda, that she had underestimated her.
"I need you conscious," Wanda said, her tone firm but with an underlying fragility. "This isnât about you. Not now."
Carol coughed, trying to catch her breath as her senses slowly returned. Her body felt heavy, almost broken, but her mind, always sharp, quickly pieced together what had happened.
"You... kept me like this," she said through gritted teeth, her voice filled with rage. Her eyes glowed, the cosmic energy within her trying to manifest but failing under Wanda's restraints. "How long, Maximoff?"
"It doesnât matter," Wanda replied firmly. But there was something in her postureâa mix of guilt and desperationâthat betrayed more than her words.
"It doesnât matter?" Carol stood, though unsteady, facing Wanda. "You imprisoned me. You erased me. And now you decide you need me? What gives you the right?"
Wanda stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her magic still pulsing in her fingers. "I did what was necessary. You wouldnât understand."
"Wouldnât understand?" Carol let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "Youâre so arrogant, Wanda. You think that just because you have power, you can manipulate people as you please? How wouldnât I understand? Do you forget who I am?"
"Youâre someone who tried to stop me," Wanda retorted, her anger beginning to seep into her voice. "You tried to take her from me. And I couldnât let that happen. I wonât lose anyone else!"
The two faced each other like two forces of nature on the verge of collision, the tension growing with every second. Carol clenched her fists, the energy within her struggling against Wanda's constraints.
Wanda took a deep breath, her shoulders falling slightly as the intensity in her eyes remained unwavering. The glow of magic in her hands flickered but didnât fade entirely. She looked fragile, like a branch about to snap, but at the same time terrifyingly formidable, like a storm ready to consume everything around her.
Carol crossed her arms, her expression stern, but there was something different in her stance now. She wasnât just angry; she was trying to understand, trying to make sense of Wandaâs fierce obsession.
"And what are we going to do then?" Carol asked, her voice a little lower but still filled with skepticism.
Wanda raised her gaze, the red glow reflecting in the dim room. "Take me to Strange."
"Strange?" Carol arched an eyebrow, almost laughing at the idea. "You know he sent me to capture you, donât you? He gave me clear orders to stop you, Wanda. What makes you think heâll help?"
There was a heavy silence. Wanda looked at you for a long moment, still unconscious on the couch, your expression soft in contrast to the relentless strength she had shown moments earlier. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost reverent.
"Because sheâs different," Wanda murmured, as if the words were a secret she didnât fully understand herself. "So different that even forces like us canât comprehend her. Thereâs something in her, something that doesnât belong to this world⌠or any other we know."
Carol followed Wanda's gaze to you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "This is about her, isnât it?" Carol repeated, pointing in your direction. "You think youâre protecting her, but you donât see that youâre putting everyone in danger! Wanda, what if youâre wrong?"
The question hung in the air, heavy, as if the entire universe was waiting for the answer.
Wanda straightened her shoulders, the brief softness in her expression disappearing, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination. She walked slowly toward Carol, stopping so close that Captain Marvel could feel the heat of the magic pulsing around her.
"If Iâm wrong," Wanda said, her voice as sharp as a blade, "then Iâll make it right. Because I wonât lose her. Not now, not ever."
For a moment, Carol remained silent, assessing Wanda as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or simply accept the inevitable. Finally, she sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of resignation.
"Fine," Carol said, defeated but still irritated. "I'll take you to Strange. But know this: if he decides you're a bigger threat than anything else, I won't intervene. You're on your own, Maximoff."
Wanda didnât respond immediately, but a small smile curved the corners of her lipsânot one of satisfaction, but of somber relief.
"I'm not alone," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to you.
Carol shook her head, exasperated. "You're insane. Literally insane."
Wanda lifted her chin, an aura of power mixed with her trademark stubborn arrogance. She faced Carol with the confidence of someone who had confronted the impossible and emerged victorious.
"I'm not crazy, Carol," Wanda said, her voice sharp as a blade and as steady as the magic still pulsating in her hands. "Iâm just a simple woman... who loves. And when you truly love someone, thereâs no sacrifice too great."
Carol narrowed her eyes, still trying to decide whether that response was genuine or just another of Wanda's manipulations. But the Scarlet Witch offered no further explanation. She turned away, walking toward you with determined steps, her crimson cape billowing like fire as she knelt by your side, her fingers gently brushing your forehead.
"Sheâs ready," Wanda said, her voice softening as she spoke to you, even with Carol standing just behind her.
The last portal closed behind you, swallowing the dazzling glow of stars and worlds dancing on the edge of the possible and the unknown. In the silence of the new space, Wanda held you firmly in her arms, as if carrying not just your fragile body but all the hope that still lived within her.
She wasnât foolish. She knew the paths she had chosen would lead to dangers that challenged even the strength of the Scarlet Witch. But she also knew that the light she had found in youâthe only one bold enough to pierce the darkness that once threatened to consume herâwas something she wasnât willing to lose.
You were her sun, even now, unconscious and vulnerable. You were the center around which she orbited, the warmth she sought even in moments when the shadows of her mistakes seemed endless. No matter how many worlds they had to cross, how many battles they had to fight. Nothing would be big enough, nothing frightening enough to extinguish the radiance you had brought to her existence.
There was something sacred in the silence between you, something no spell could explain. Every step Wanda took, every surge of cosmic energy you crossed, seemed to strengthen her resolve. No matter the cost, no matter the enemy. She would do anything to protect youâand whatever it was you were about to discover.
In that moment, as the Sanctum loomed ahead like a monolith of mystery, Wanda knew she stood on the brink of something monumental. Something that would change not just her story but the course of the multiverse itself. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, as if responding to the presence of the place.
She took a deep breath.
Her destiny lay in the shadows of a mystery she couldnât unravel, but the light? That was with her, in her arms, ready to be defended against all odds.
As she took the next step, there was no doubt in her mind. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with the ferocity of someone who had seen the brilliance of something realâand would not allow it to be extinguished.
"Shine." That word echoed in her mind, a silent command and a promise. Because even in the deepest darkness, a sun never surrenders.
~*~
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Restless Desires
Kinkvember Day 5: In Heat
IVE's Kim Jiwon (Liz) x Gender Neutral reader
6.8k words

A delicate warmth brushes Liz's face, coaxing her out of sleep. She shifts beneath the sheets, feeling their softness around her like a lingering embrace. Her eyelids flutter open, and the blurred outlines of her room slowly sharpen as she blinks away the last dregs of sleep. Gentle light filters through the curtains, painting her bed in golden shades, almost as if sheâs emerged into a new, tender world. With a slow breath, she senses the quiet hum of morningâthe soft ticking of the clock, the faint rustle of the sheets, and the subtle, irresistible pull of something stirring within her.
Heat begins to stir low in her belly, a subtle spark that soon spreads like molten fire through her veins. Liz groans softly, a sound of half-hearted resistance mingled with surrender, as she tries to ignore the steady throb between her thighs. Not today, she thinks, rolling over and pulling the covers tighter around her, seeking comfort in her nest of warmth. But the sensation persists, creeping back with greater urgency, like an uninvited guest refusing to leave. Her skin tingles, her breaths quickening, as the fire inside her intensifies, insistent and unyieldingâa force that refuses to be denied.
Frustration flickers in Liz's chest, a tiny ember amidst the growing blaze of her desire. She doesnât want to start the day like thisâneedy, desperate for something only you can give her. The thought of your touch, the memory of your skin against hers, and the way a single look from you can ignite her longing make the ache impossible to ignore. Her fingers slide beneath the sheets, grazing over bare skin, tracing the contours of her body as if mapping uncharted territory. Even the lightest touch sends a ripple of pleasure through herâa shockwave that promises more but still isnât enough. Itâs like standing on the edge of a precipice, feeling the thrill of the fall without ever taking the leap.
This is ridiculous, she scolds herself, the inner voice a stern reminder amidst the clamoring of her body. Itâs too early to feel so worked up. But as her fingers moved lower, skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, a soft gasp escaped her lips. Her body hums, alive with desire, every nerve ending screaming for release. Yet no matter how hard she tries, the relief she craves is always just out of reach, a mirage dancing on the horizon, taunting her with its elusiveness.
After several minutes of futile attempts, Liz groans in frustration and throws the covers aside, the cool air of the room clashing with the heat burning inside her. She stomps into the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, hoping the shock of it will douse the flames consuming her. But as she stares at her flushed reflection, droplets of water clinging to her cheeks, she knows the day has already been defined by the current of desire coursing through her. Itâs a force too strong to be quelled by cold water or willpower. This part of herâa wild, untamed longingâyearns for connection, for the touch only you can provide.
Liz steps into the shower, letting the hot water stream over her skin, the heat a strange comfort that matches the fire pulsing beneath her surface. The steam wraps around her, blending with the tension she carries, momentarily giving her the illusion of release. But as the minutes pass, it becomes clear that no amount of scalding water can wash away the ache smoldering inside. Shutting off the stream, she wraps herself in a towel, droplets trailing like tiny reminders of her unrelieved need.
Accepting the truth that pulses within her, Liz acknowledges that the only way to find peace is to embrace the fire, to surrender to the longing that refuses to subside. Determined, she resolves to seek you out, knowing that only you hold the key to quenching the thirst burning inside her. After drying off, she pulls on simple undergarments, the fabric cool against her still-warm skin. She throws on an oversized sweater in an attempt to shield herself from the world, but the soft, loose fabric feels irritating against her heated body. Her shorts, normally a comfortable fit, now feel restrictive, a teasing reminder of the tension coiling within her. Even as she steps into the kitchen, Lizâs frustration has only deepened.
In the gentle calm of the kitchen, you sit at the table, fingers flying across your laptop keyboard. You looked focused, so absorbed in your work, and the sight sent a jolt through Liz, intensifying the throbbing between her legs. She bites her lip, momentarily stunned by the image of you deep in concentration, while her body vibrates with a need that makes it impossible to think of anything else.
âMorning,â she calls softly, attempting a casual tone.
You glance up, offering a warm smile. âMorning my love, how was your sleep?,â you reply before returning your focus to the screen, oblivious to the storm brewing within her.
With a hard gulp and her heart pounding as Liz crosses the room in quick strides. She leans down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, intending it as a brief touch of affection. But the instant her lips meet yours, the fire blazing inside her flares to life, overtaking any sense of restraint. The kiss deepens almost instinctively, her body pressing against yours, her fingers trembling as they cling to your shirt.
A soft, involuntary whimper escapes her, and she feels the tension in her own body shiver into the kiss. She needs this, needs you, the way a parched desert thirsts for rain. Every inch of her skin feels electrified, hyper-aware of your closeness, her pulse racing to match the quickening rhythm of her breath.
You pull back slightly, surprised, your eyes searching hers. âBaby? Whatââ
But she doesnât let you finish. Driven by a hunger too strong to ignore, she grabs the front of your shirt with both hands and pulls you back, crashing her lips into yours with a fierce, undeniable need. Her fingers twist in the fabric, knuckles whitening as she clings to you, anchoring herself against the tidal wave of longing rising within her. The kiss is no longer gentleâitâs a desperate claim, a silent plea that her words canât convey. Her mouth moves against yours insistently, each press of her lips more urgent than the last, her breath mingling with yours as she leans in, seeking every ounce of connection she can steal from this moment.
Her body seems to mold itself to yours, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer as though afraid of the slightest distance. Her pulse hammers in her veins, each beat fueling the fire burning brighter inside her, making it impossible to hold back. She pours every bit of her yearning into that kiss, the soft brush of her lips transforming into something raw and consuming, a desperation she canât disguise or suppress.
When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and Lizâs face is flushed, her pupils wide with desire. She grins, heart pounding a wild rhythm that mirrors the frantic beat of her pulse. "Just... a good morning kiss," she teases, though her voice is husky, barely above a whisper, betraying the intensity of her desire.
You chuckle, shaking your head with a look of endearing exasperation. âRight... Maybe you should let me get back to work?â
Liz steps back, the fire inside her roaring even hotter at your words. She isnât doneânot even close. The kiss has only stoked the flames, and the tension in her body is becoming unbearable. She needs more, much more than a mere kiss.
As she busies herself preparing breakfast, Liz keeps glancing over at you. The sight of you working, which usually brings her comfort, now fills her with irritation. Is their work really that important? she wonders, feeling the heat twist in her stomach. Or are they just ignoring me? The thought fuels a potent mix of frustration and anticipation.
In a bold move, she leans over the counter, letting the sweater slip down her shoulder, exposing more skin than necessary. âHey,â she calls, keeping her tone light and playful. âDo you think itâs normal to feel⌠really warm down there?â
You glance up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. âWarm? Like a fever?â
Liz chuckles, her heart racing with the thrill of her own audacity. âNo, not like that... just... you know, hot.â She lets the words hang in the air, heavy with implication.
Your expression is confused, and it only stokes her impatience. âMaybe itâs the weather,â you offer, looking back at your screen. âShould I open a window?â
Liz sighs, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the stove. Seriously? she thinks, already conjuring up a dozen ways to make you understand the heat she wants to share. The day is still young, and Liz is determined that the fire within her will not be doused by misunderstanding or indifference. Today, sheâll make sure you feel the heat, too.
After a cozy breakfast shared in the warm glow of morning light, Liz feels a familiar itch for a bit of fun. The soft clicks of your keyboard punctuate the quiet kitchen, your concentration clearly unbroken by her hints at distraction. She smiles to herself, deciding itâs time to turn things up a notch.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Liz unlocked her phone and scrolled through her carefully curated playlist until she found one of your favorite songsâan upbeat, toe-tapping melody known to get even the most stoic souls moving. As the lively tune filled the kitchen, she swayed her hips, casting a playful glance over her shoulder in your direction.
âCome on, you love this song!â she teased, her voice bubbling with infectious enthusiasm. She exaggerated her movements, swishing her hips dramatically as if inviting you to join her in a spontaneous dance. âDance with me!â
You glanced up, offering a brief smile at her playful energy before your eyes returned to the screen. âI would love to, but I really need to finish thisâŚâ you replied, your tone laced with apology but unwavering in focus.
Undeterred, Liz spun on her toes, her hair fanning out as she twirled closer to you. âOh, come on!â she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. âJust one dance. You know you canât resist me!â
A soft chuckle slipped from you, clearly entertained by her antics, but your fingers resumed their quick tapping across the keyboard. âI really need to get this done,â you insisted, your focus still intact.
With an exaggerated huff, Liz threw her hands in the air, her eyes sparkling with renewed determination. She realized subtlety wasnât going to work this time; she needed a different approach. So, with a sly smile, she scrolled through her phone again, selecting a slower, sultry track that filled the kitchen with a deep, sensual beat. She began moving to the rhythm, rolling her hips in a way she knew would be impossible for you to ignore.
The shift in tempo did not go unnoticed. Your fingers stilled momentarily, and your gaze lifted, following the hypnotic sway of her body. Liz noticed the flicker of interest in your eyes and smirked inwardly. Gotcha, her confidence started to build.
âWhat's more important, your work or me?â she whispered, stepping closer until her chest is pressed against your back. âCome on, just give in, I can see it in your eyes.â Her breath was warm on your ear, her voice dipping into a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.
Without waiting for a response, she leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss just below your ear, where she knew you liked. Her lips traced down the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of skin. Her kisses were soft at first, feather-light, each one coaxing you to lose a little more focus.
As she reached the side of your neck, her hands slid up and tangled into your hair, her fingers curling with just enough pressure to make you look up from your work. She tugged gently, pulling you closer as she kissed the spot just above your collarbone, her lips pressing in deeper, each kiss warmer and more possessive than the last. She could feel the faintest hitch in your breath as her lips moved, her mouth leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. The sensation was dizzying, and every brush of her lips seemed to spark a little more heat between you, making it impossible to ignore her any longer.
One hand drifted from your hair to your shoulder, her fingertips brushing slowly down your arm before trailing back up, her touch deliberate and teasing. Her lips hovered at the nape of your neck, grazing softly as she whispered, âCan you please give me attention?â Her voice was a gentle plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her breath hot against your skin.
Her hands tightened slightly in your hair as her lips continued their trail, her kisses deepening as she left small, possessive marksâsoft, warm reminders of her presence that lingered even after her lips moved. She pressed herself closer, the rhythm of the song matching the slow, deliberate beat of her heart. Her voice softened, and you could feel her smirk against your skin, an invitation that left little choice but to surrender to the pull of her touch.
Your resolve wavered as you glanced at her, but with a quick shake of your head, you refocused on your work. âHoney, I promise after I'm done, I'll give you all the attention you need, okay?â
Her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, the disappointment was almost comically dramatic. But she wasnât ready to concede defeat. Instead, with a quick, determined stride, Liz slipped out of the kitchen and darted to your shared bedroom. She rummaged through the drawer, grabbing a fresh set of lacy undergarments, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she hid them behind her back. She returned to the kitchen, concealing the change of clothes with an innocent smile.
Rejoining you, Liz picked up a glass of water, a glint of mischief in her eye. She positioned herself close to you, pretending to take a casual sip, then with an exaggerated gasp and a theatrical tilt, she "accidentally" spilled the water down the front of her sweater and shorts, the cold splash soaking through the fabric and clinging to her curves beneath.
She let out a playful, shocked gasp, looking down at herself with wide eyes. âOops!â she exclaimed, feigning innocence as she looked up at you, her eyes shining with mischief. âLooks like I made a messâŚâ
You looked up, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. âReally?â you began, trying to keep your tone stern, but your amusement betrayed you.
Without missing a beat, Liz shrugged, flashing you a devilish smile as she reached for the hem of her soaked sweater. With an agonizing slowness, she pulled it off, letting the damp fabric slip over her shoulders and fall to the floor, leaving her in her wet shorts and a cute pink bra that hugged her so well. She shot you a glance, watching as your gaze lingered.
But she wasnât done. Her fingers hooked under the waistband of her shorts, and with a teasing glance in your direction, she slid them down her hips, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving her in the matching soaked underwear. The damp material clung to her skin, accentuating every curve and had become almost see-through, revealing the soft contours beneath. It molded to her body, tracing every line and dip with delicate precision, hinting at the natural line between her legs. A small smile played on her lips as she noticed the faint shift in your expression, a silent acknowledgment of the effect she had on you.
She took a slow step forward, lifting her chin defiantly. âYou sure you donât want to help me out now?â she teased, raising an eyebrow as she tugged at the strap of her bra.
Your gaze followed the movement, and you chuckled, shaking your head even as your resolve began to waver. âYouâre going to have to try harder than that,â you replied, though your tone softened, hinting at how close you were to giving in.
âOh, I plan to,â she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper as she drew nearer. Her hands slipped behind her back, fingers deftly locating the clasp of her bra. In one smooth motion, she unhooked it, allowing the fabric to glide down her arms and pool at her feet, revealing her bare chest. Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to look away. But you couldnât; your gaze lingered, tracing the contours of her form.
Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned around, her back to you as her hands slipped down to the waistband of her panties. She bent over slightly, just enough to give you a full, tantalizing view, as she peeled the wet fabric down her hips and thighs, letting it drop to her feet. Every movement was slow and intentional, and the sight left you speechless, torn between finishing your work and giving in.
Straightening up, she faced you once more, her cheeks slightly flushed but her eyes filled with confidence. Without a word, she reached for the fresh set of undergarments she had hidden, slipping into them as you watched, completely captivated.
Her lips curled into a sly smile as she met your gaze again. âNow⌠will you touch me?â she asked, her voice a soft plea wrapped in a sultry tease, her tone breaking the last of your resolve.
You chuckled, shaking your head with a hint of feigned restraint. âLater, I promise. If I don't finish this then I wonât have a jobâand then I wonât be able to get you all those things you keep hinting about.â Your tone was steady, but your gaze betrayed you as it traced all over her body, revealing just how much of a struggle it was to stay focused.
Liz let out an exaggerated, melodramatic groan, her hands falling to her hips in mock defeat. âFine, fine. Later, that's what you always say,â she said, pouting as she reluctantly stepped back, throwing you one last, imploring look.
Just then, your phone buzzed on the table, its insistent vibration shattering the playful silence. You stood up to answer, frustration flashing across your face as you paced back and forth, absorbed in the terse conversation. As you talked, Liz watched you, her own impatience simmering. The wait stretched on unbearably, her need for you now pulsing with an almost comical level of urgency. She could feel her determination solidifying.
Without uttering a single word, she rose from her seat, her movements fluid yet purposeful. She slipped into the sanctuary of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. The coolness of the tiles against her back was a contrast to the feverish heat that radiated from within. Leaning against the wall, she released a shaky breath, the ache between her thighs a relentless, pulsating demand for attention.
Her hands, trembling slightly with pent-up desire, began a slow descent down her body. They traced the contours of her hips, the familiar terrain now electrified with heightened sensitivity. Dipping between her legs, her fingers tentatively explored the heat that beckoned them. Her breath hitched as she grazed her sensitive skin, a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, but it was fleeting, a mere whisper of what she truly yearned for.
She pressed her fingers more firmly against herself, attempting to mimic the touch she so desperately needed from you. Her heart pounded in her chest, a staccato rhythm that matched the increasing tempo of her own hand. The tension within her coiled ever more tightly, each desperate stroke fueling the fire that threatened to consume her.
Yet, despite her best efforts, the release she sought remained maddeningly out of reach. Her self-administered caresses, though fervent, were a hollow imitation of the passion she craved. A soft desperate whimper escaped her lips, her head falling back against the unyielding wall as her body trembled with unmet need. Her fingers moved with increasing urgency, her breath quickening to short, sharp gasps, but the elusive wave of pleasure she sought continued to elude her, taunting her with its proximity.
"Come on⌠pleaseâŚ" she begged into the empty room, her voice a tremulous blend of desperation and frustration. She increased the pressure, her hips undulating against her own hand, but the crescendo she so desperately sought remained just beyond her grasp. Her fingers, now slick with her own arousal, were simply not enough to quell the storm within her.
Defeated, she withdrew her hand, her body still throbbing with an unsatisfied longing. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and a solitary tear of frustration tracked down her cheek. The realization hit her with a profound clarity: she needed you. Only you could extinguish the flame that raged unabated inside her.
Liz composed herself, the cool air of the bathroom doing little to temper the inferno that burned within. She emerged from the bathroom, her gaze immediately drawn to you. You sat at the table, the picture of calm repose after your phone call, contrasting to the turmoil that racked her. Without hesitation, she sprinted across the room, her need for you a palpable force that propelled her forward. She climbed onto your lap, her body pressing against yours, her desperation an unmistakable presence between you.
"I don't care about your work," she whispered, her voice raw with the remnants of her frustrated attempts at satisfaction. "I tried, but it's not enough. I need you."
The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, thickening the tension between you. She inched closer, the anticipation building with each heartbeat. Her breaths were shallow, her cheeks flushed, and when she lifted her hand toward your face, her intentions were unmistakable.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she brought them to your eyes, and you noticed the glistening sheenâa subtle but unmistakable sign of her arousal. The warmth radiating from her touch spoke volumes, the scent and sight of her desire making the air around you almost electric.
Slowly, she then slid her fingers past your lips, and you couldnât suppress the soft gasp that escaped as the taste and warmth of her skin flooded your senses. The feel of her wet fingers against your tongue sent an electric pulse through you, one that lingered, intense and undeniable. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your breath hitching as you surrendered to the sensory overload she was offering.
Her fingers moved slowly, exploring the warmth of your mouth as if savoring every second. She traced the curve of your tongue, brushing lightly against the smoothness of your palate, each touch slow and deliberate, leaving a lingering warmth that was impossible to ignore. You felt her breath, hot and close, mingling with yours as her fingers coaxed a fire that echoed the rising tension between you. Your heart raced, each beat syncing with the throb of need that simmered just beneath the surface.
The heat in her core, which had moments ago felt unbearable, now flared into an intense blaze. With each passing moment, as her fingers remained enveloped in the warmth of your mouth, she could feel herself becoming more and more aroused. The wetness between her legs grew, a physical testament to her body's readiness. A soft moan escaped her lips as she imagined the culmination of their shared desire, the anticipation of what was to come next a sweet torture that promised to finally douse the unquenchable fire within.
Your eyes widened, reflecting a cocktail of surprise and mounting passion as Liz, with a fiery determination, began to move against you. Her hips swayed with an initial languidness, a slow burn that was quickly stoked into an intense flame. Each roll of her body was a word in an unspoken language, a plea for connection that was both physical and profoundly emotional.
Her lips, soft and insistent, blazed a trail down the column of your neck, marking you with the fervent passion of her need. The love bite she left just below your ear was a brand, a claim of intimacy that sent shivers down your spine. âKeep working for all I care, just let me use you.â she whispered, her voice a tremulous testament to her desperation. Her sentence trailed off into a moan as her hips found a rhythm that spoke of her urgency.
Lizâs body was a conduit of yearning, each movement an expression of her deep-seated desire. Her need was palpable, a force that seemed to vibrate through the very air around you. Your hands, initially steadying, now clung to her waist with an intensity that mirrored her own. Your breaths were short, sharp bursts of air as you wrestled with your own surging need, striving to maintain a semblance of control in the face of her unbridled passion.
But Liz, lost in the throes of her own longing, was beyond the point of patience. Her lips returned to your neck, leaving another love bite, a twin to the first, as she ground against you with increasing fervor. âUgh forget what I said. Please help me out!â she whimpered, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. âI canât take it anymore.â
It was the raw vulnerability in her voice that finally pierced your resolve. Your hands, now firm and decisive, gripped her hips, not to pull her closer but to lift her gently off your lap. You guided her toward the bed, a sanctuary where you could lavish upon her the care and attention she so desperately craved. Liz blinked in momentary confusion, her body still pulsing with unfulfilled desire. She had been so close to the edge, so ready to tumble over it with you.
âOkayâ you murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against her flushed skin as you cupped her cheek. Your thumb traced a gentle path across her heated flesh, a silent promise of the tenderness to come. âI didn't know it was this bad, I'm sorry for making you wait.â Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both a reassurance and a reawakening of her senses. âBut I want to take care of you properly. This is all about you, baby.â
Lizâs breath hitched, her body quivering with a mixture of anticipation and a newfound sense of being cherished. As you guided her down onto the bed, your hands moved with a reverence that made her heart flutter. Each touch, each caress, was a testament to your desire to please her, to explore the depths of her need and satisfy it in a way that was as much about connection as it was about physical release.
Your lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of soft, deliberate kisses down her neck. You took your time, savoring the moment, as you kissed across her collarbone with a tenderness that made her feel both vulnerable and exquisitely seen. With gentle care, you unclasped her bra, revealing the stiff nubs breasts, the raw truth of her desire. Lizâs skin prickled under your touch, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she surrendered to the waves of anticipation that coursed through her.
In the quiet of the room, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of youâa tangle of limbs and a tapestry of whispered yearnings. Your every move was deliberate, a dance of devotion that promised to worship every inch of her being. Liz felt overwhelmed, not just by the sensations that threatened to consume her, but by the depth of emotion that shone in your eyes. In this sacred space, she was not just a body to be claimed, but a soul to be revered.
As your lips continued their tender exploration, each kiss a vow of adoration, Liz surrendered to the exquisite surrender, knowing that in your capable hands, she would find not just the release she craved, but the connection she had been yearning for all along.
âIâve got you, baby,â you whispered against her skin, kissing lower as your hands gently pressed against her thighs to ease them apart. âLet me take care of you.â
Liz whimpered softly, her fingers gripping the sheets as your lips grazed her inner thighs, teasing her with featherlight kisses. The anticipation was excruciating, the fire between her legs almost unbearable now. âPlease,â she gasped, her hips shifting under your touch. âPlease hurry up. I canât waitâŚâ
You looked up, eyes dark with intent but softened with affection. âI know, honey,â you murmured, voice soothing. âYou donât have to wait anymore.â
Slowly, you hooked your fingers around the waistband of her panties, slipping them down her thighs. As you pulled the fabric away, a glistening line of arousal connected it to her core, a raw, intimate sign of her need that sent a fresh wave of desire surging through you.
With that, you lowered your mouth to her most intimate area, beginning a slow, deliberate journey with your tongue that drew a sharp gasp from her lips. Liz's back arched off the bed as the first wave of intense pleasure washed over her, your name falling from her lips in a soft, breathless plea.
You savored every moment, taking in the taste and warmth of her, feeling the desperation in every tremor of her body. Your tongue moved with deliberate purpose, tracing slow, languid circles around her most sensitive spot before pressing in, tasting the raw sweetness of her arousal. The slight tang lingered on your tongue, a heady reminder of how close she was to unraveling.
With each flick and caress, you explored her rhythm, sensing exactly where to tease and where to soothe. You took her clit between your lips, sucking softly at first, then with increasing pressure, drawing a deep moan from her that resonated through your chest. Her hips arched instinctively, pressing against your mouth, silently begging for more. The slow, sensual rhythm built her higher and higher, and you felt her thighs begin to tremble on either side of you.
Lizâs hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you intensified your pace. You could feel her holding back, teetering on the edge, her body taut and eager beneath you as your tongue worked her into a state of pure need. She had waited so long for this, imagined your touch from the moment she woke, and now, here you were, driving her wild with bliss.
âPlease,â she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. Her fingers found their way to your hair, tangling in it as she clung to you, her body quivering. âDonât stop⌠Oh God, please donât stop.â
You lifted your head just enough to murmur against her skin, the hum of your voice sending a shiver through her core. âI wonât, baby,â you whispered, lips brushing her, each word thick with intent. âIâm going to make you feel so good.â
Her soft cries grew louder as you continued, your tongue stroking over her, slow and unrelenting, each motion sparking new jolts of pleasure that left her gasping and releasing another desperate moan from her lips. Lizâs body arched sharply, her thighs tightening around you as the pressure intensified.
âOh myâŚâ she gasped, voice catching in her throat, her breath shallow and ragged. âIâm so closeâŚâ
âGo ahead, baby,â you murmured, your breath hot against her skin. âCum for me.â
The words combined with a deep flick of your tongue, were all she needed. Her release crashed over her, consuming her in waves. Liz cried out, her body trembling violently, thighs quivering uncontrollably as the orgasm took hold. Her hands clenched the back of your head, pulling you impossibly close as her head threw back, each moan spilling from her lips a testament to the ecstasy youâd pulled her into.
But you didnât stop. Your mouth remained on her, relentless and devoted, your tongue and lips letting her ride out every last bit of her orgasm. When her thighs started to press together, instinctively seeking some escape from the intensity, you hooked both hands between her legs, prying her open with gentle but steady pressure. Your fingers dug softly into the flesh of her inner thighs, holding her in place, ensuring she stayed completely vulnerable to every flick of your tongue.
Liz whimpered, her hips squirming under your firm hold, her body entirely exposed to your touch, with nowhere to hide from the sensations that were building within her. She tried to twist away, overwhelmed by the pleasure, but your hands kept her steady, her every movement restrained in the soft grasp of your fingers.
âI canât⌠please⌠itâs too muchâŚâ she moaned, her hands weakly gripping your head, but even then, she knew the warm feeling in her core was still lingering. âOkay, maybe just one more.â She weakly let out, contradicting her own words.
The sensation between her legs was nearly unbearable, her breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps as your mouth moved over her, slow and torturous, each flick of your tongue igniting another spark of sensation. You let your lips close over her sensitive clit again, sucking softly, then firm enough to tug on the nub, until her body responded with a shuddering moan that sent a thrill through your being.
You let your mouth bring her closer and closer, feeling the growing tension in her thighs and the way her breathing became ragged. You stayed focused, your tongue moving with purpose, keeping her right on the edge.
âOh⌠oh, pleaseâŚâ she gasped, her voice quivering as you increased the pressure, holding her open and vulnerable as her release built quickly, the intensity almost too much to bear.
With a particular lick, your tongue curved deep inside her, pressing against her walls as it moved, then you brought it back flicking over her clit repeatedly. She cried out, her body going rigid as the climax surged through her. Her toes curled, and her thighs trembled in your firm grasp, but you held her open, feeling the waves of pleasure pulse through her. Her juices enveloped your mouth as she shook uncontrollably, her hands gripping the sheets, breathless from the overwhelming bliss that crashed over her again and again. âOh God⌠fuck! I-Iâm cumming!â she cried, her voice breaking as her body convulsed beneath you, every nerve alight with intensity. The sensation was so powerful it left her undone, each convulsive tremor a testament to the pleasure coursing through her, leaving her utterly spent, yet deeply fulfilled.
You slowed your movements, letting your tongue soften as you felt the warmth of her release, helping her ride out the final waves of pleasure. Leaning in, you pressed gentle, reverent kisses along her pulsing, trembling folds, each one soft and deliberate, as if sealing in the pleasure that still coursed through her. With each kiss, you felt the last traces of her climax gradually ease, her body quivering under your touch.
When you finally pulled back, Liz collapsed onto the bed, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was completely spent, her mind foggy with exhaustion and the overwhelming afterglow of multiple orgasms.
You crawled up beside her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, then moving to her chest, and finally finding her lips. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with love. Liz melted into it, tasting herself on your lips, her body still shaking from the aftershocks. Yet amid that tremble was a warmth in her chestâa feeling of being so completely cherished that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
âYouâre so cute,â you whispered against her lips, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âI love you so much.â
âI love you too,â Liz murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her body felt heavy, exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her.
You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. âTake a nap baby, Iâve got you.â
Lizâs eyelids fluttered shut, her body relaxing completely into the bed. The last thing she felt was the warmth of your lips pressing a final kiss to her forehead before she drifted off into a deep, contented sleep. You bent down and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as you whispered, âSleep well, my love.â
Carefully, you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, making sure she was wrapped up securely, bundled in a loving warmth. You gently ran your hand over the curve of her waist, the lightest of touches, before pulling the blanket higher up around her neck, ensuring that no part of her would feel cold. It was as if you couldnât stop yourself from wanting her to be as comfortable and protected as possible.
âYouâre adorable,â you murmured softly, smiling as you leaned in to kiss her again, pressing your lips softly to the top of her head. âHow did I get so lucky?â
Liz let out a soft, sleepy hum, shifting slightly under the blanket, but she remained blissfully asleep. Your heart fluttered at the sound, and you stood slowly, your movements quiet and gentle as you finally tore yourself away, knowing she was completely at ease.
With a reluctant sigh, you walked back to the kitchen, settling in front of your laptop once again. But after just a few minutes, your thoughts kept drifting back to Liz, still peacefully asleep just a room away. Every few moments, you glanced in her direction, your focus slipping from your work.
Why not work there? you thought.
After all, you could bring the laptop into the bedroom and be close to her while she slept. Quietly, you stood, gathering your laptop and slipping into the bedroom. There was a small table and chair near the window, just perfect for setting up your workstation. You set the laptop down carefully, keeping the light low to avoid disturbing Liz, and settled into the chair.
Now, from your spot, you could watch Liz sleep while you workedâsomething that made your heart feel a little fuller.
As you worked, you kept stealing soft glances at her, your heart warming every time you saw her peacefully tucked under the covers, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of comfort knowing you were nearby in case she needed you.
If I finish quickly⌠your fingers tapping efficiently at the keys.
Determined to wrap up your work, you focused more than you had all day, your motivation clear. You wanted nothing more than to slide back into bed beside Liz and hold her close.
Finally, after what felt like forever, you finished your last task. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as you closed the laptop, your eyes immediately drifting back to the bed. With a content smile, you stood and tiptoed to the bed, careful not to wake her.
The moment you slipped under the covers beside her, Liz instinctively stirred, her body reacting to your presence even in sleep. Without waking, she shifted closer, wrapping her whole body around you. Her leg draped over yours, her arms encircling your waist, and she pressed her face against your neck, letting out a soft, contented sigh as she snuggled into you, as if she had been waiting for you to return all along.
Your heart swelled as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in even closer. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, your fingers gently stroking her back as she relaxed fully against you.
âThere you are,â you whispered softly, your voice full of warmth and affection. âI missed you too, baby.â
Liz responded with a sleepy hum, her grip on you tightening just a little, her breathing slow and steady. Even in her dreams, she clung to you, her body instinctively seeking the comfort of your embrace. You smiled down at her, your chest filling with a deep sense of love and contentment. She fit so perfectly against you, as though you were two pieces meant to come together.
You settled into the pillow, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing against you. You werenât at all sleepy, but you lay there with a smile, reveling in the warmth of being so close to her. The gentle rhythm of her breathing was comforting, and as you watched her peaceful face, you felt a wave of happiness wash over you. In that moment, everything felt perfect, and you couldnât imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Wrapped up in each other, with the soft glow of the lights circling around you, everything was as it should be.
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Asylum
Chapter Four: Enemy of my Enemy
PAIRING(s): Psychiatrist!Agatha Harkness x Patient!Reader x Inmate!Rio Vidal
SUMMARY: Wrongfully imprisoned, Reader becomes the obsession of Agatha, a cunning psychiatrist, and Rio, a fiery inmate. Together, theyâll ensure sheâs theirsâforever.
WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Confinement, Madness, Dubcon, and Betrayal.
Rio's whispered promise to free you played in your mind like a scratched record for the rest of the day, the words insidious in their persistence. You didnât want to believe herâcouldn't trust herâbut the possibility of escape, no matter how fragile, made your breath catch in your throat.
Could you really leave? And, more terrifying, would either of them let you?
By the time night fell, the edges of your resolve had begun to crumble. Your small cell felt more like a tomb, the walls pulsing with the weight of what lay ahead. The conflicting forces of Rio and Agatha loomed over you, as though the air between them left no room for you to breathe.
Then came the night Rio made good on her wordâor so she claimed.
The clock had just struck midnight when your door creaked open.
âPsst.â
You jolted upright to see Rioâs unmistakable silhouette leaning in the doorway, her wild grin catching what little light filtered into the room. She looked untamed, even more so than usual, her hair messy, her eyes practically glittering with adrenaline.
âGet up, mi amor. Timeâs up.â
You hesitated, instinct screaming at you to stay still, to stay quiet. If you left with her, this wouldnât end wellâAgatha would see to that.
Still, the thought of escape pulled at you like a siren song.
âRio,â you whispered sharply, clutching the blanket around your knees. âThis is insane. What are youââ
âShut up and move,â she hissed, her voice low but fierce as she slipped into the cell. She crouched beside you, her fingers gripping your arm tightly. âWeâre doing this. Now.â
Her intensity was suffocating, her presence taking up every inch of the confined space.
âEven if you donât believe me, whatâs keeping you here?â she asked, her lips brushing against your ear in the dark. âHer? You think sheâs going to save you?â
Your breath hitched, your mind racing through every tangled interaction youâd had with Agatha over the past weeks. As terrifying as she was, there was safety in the familiarity of her controlled demeanor. But the memory of her possessive whispers and the subtle threats she weaved in her kindness still sent shivers down your spine.
âLet me save you, cariĂąo.â Rio's voice softened now, tinged with what almost sounded like genuine affection.
And maybe that was why you found yourself swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe that was why, against your better judgment, you allowed Rio to take your hand.
The corridors of the asylum were eerily silent as Rio led you through them, her steps swift and silent on the cold floor.
"How do you know where to go?" you whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder.
She smirked without looking back. "Unlike you, Iâm not new to this place. I know its secrets."
Her confidence rattled you as much as it reassured you, the fine line between competence and recklessness blurring with every step she took.
But before long, that line snapped.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice sent ice through your veins. Agatha stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the corridor, her dark eyes cutting through the dim light like razors. Her usual composure was cracked just enough to show the rage simmering beneath her surface.
Rio froze, but only for a moment, before letting out a sharp laugh. "Of course you couldnât just mind your own business, doc. Always watching, always scheming."
You stepped back instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest as Agatha's gaze slid to you. Her lips curved into a smile, but it wasnât warm or reassuringâit was predatory.
"Step away from her, Rio," Agatha commanded, her voice dangerously calm.
"Not a chance," Rio shot back, shifting her body protectively in front of you. "I told you sheâs not your toy to keep. Sheâs coming with me."
The tension in the air was suffocating as the two women locked eyes, the silent war between them more terrifying than any shouting match. You could feel their conflicting wills tugging at you like invisible chains, each pulling you closer to their side.
But you werenât a pawnâor, at least, you didnât want to be.
"Enough!" you snapped, your voice trembling but firm as you stepped forward.
Both women froze, their gazes snapping to you in unison.
"I can'tâI canât do this," you stammered, clutching your head as the weight of their obsession crushed you from both sides. "Youâre both insane, and youâre dragging me down with you!"
Rioâs face twisted in frustration, while Agatha tilted her head, her dark hair framing her sharp features.
"Darling," Agatha began, her voice syrupy with forced calm, "you donât know what youâre saying. Youâre overwhelmed, but youâll understand soon enough. You belong hereâwith me.â
âNo,â Rio growled, cutting her off and stepping closer to you. âYou donât belong here at all, cariĂąo. Let me take you away from her, from this place.â
"You think sheâll last a day out there?" Agatha snapped, her mask of calm fracturing entirely. "Sheâs fragile. The world will eat her alive without someone to protect herâsomeone like me."
âIâm right here, doc.â Rioâs voice was sharp enough to draw blood. âAnd Iâm not letting her rot in your twisted little fantasy."
You felt dizzy, their words washing over you in an endless tide of possessiveness and control. Escape was no longer the questionâsurvival was.
The choice was ripped away from you in the next moment. Before you could speak, Rio lunged.
She moved faster than you thought possible, closing the distance between herself and Agatha with predatory precision. For a moment, you thought she might actually winâuntil you saw the glint of silver in Agathaâs hand.
The syringe plunged into Rioâs neck before she could react, her wild grin faltering as her legs buckled beneath her.
"You fool," Agatha hissed, catching Rioâs falling body with chilling ease. "Did you really think you could win this game?"
You backed away, terror clawing at your throat as Agatha turned her attention back to you.
"Now," she said, smoothing her rumpled coat as though nothing had happened, "letâs get you back where you belong."
Her calm words were the last thing you heard before darkness closed in around you.
When you woke, your body felt heavy, like you'd been pulled from quicksand. The world swam into focus slowly, the familiar dim light of the infirmary's ceiling above you. A sharp sting in your arm drew your attention downward to find an IV taped against your skin.
Panic surged as the fog of sedation lifted, and the fragmented memories of last night crashed down on you. Rioâs body crumpling as Agatha overpowered her, the clinical calm in Agathaâs tone as she promised to âfixâ everything.
Your throat tightened. Had she drugged you, too? How long had you been out?
The sound of voices filtered into the room, growing clearer as the door swung open. You didnât need to look to know who they belonged to.
âSheâs mine, Rio,â Agathaâs voice was sharp but level, though it carried an unmistakable tension. âYou nearly ruined everything.â
Rioâs laugh was ragged, tinged with defiance despite its weakness. âOh, yeah? And whatâs your excuse, doc? You donât think chaining her here with your manipulative crap will snap her eventually?â
You turned your head just enough to see them. Agathaâs posture was as stiff and upright as always, though her dark eyes burned with barely-contained rage. Rio, in contrast, looked disheveled and furious, leaning against the wall for support, a hand pressed to her neck where the syringe had struck.
âI wasnât the one trying to haul her through the asylum like some thief in the night,â Agatha spat. âYouâre reckless. No plan, no care for what wouldâve happened if you were caught. Do you think security wouldnât have thrown her in solitary for weeks after your stunt?â
âAnd your plan is so much better?â Rio shot back, stepping closer despite her visible weakness. âWhat, smother her until she loves you back? At least I wasnât drugging her into compliance.â
âShe would never survive outside of here,â Agatha snapped, her control slipping for the briefest moment. âYou may think youâre the lesser evil, but what you tried would have destroyed her.â
The weight of their conversation fell heavily on you, the realization settling like a stone in your gut: they were arguing over you like you were some prize to be won. Not a person, not a victim of circumstance, but a thingâtheir thing.
Youâd been nothing more than their pawn this entire time.
The truth ignited something deep within you, a flame that burned past the sedation weighing on your limbs. You clenched your hands, determination coalescing with your fear.
If neither of them would let you go, youâd have to take matters into your own hands.
The next few days blurred as you began quietly planting seeds of misdirection. Every word you said to either of them was careful, calculatedâdesigned to sow discord between the two. It didnât take much effort; their hatred for one another was barely concealed beneath the surface.
Agatha cornered you in the therapy room on the second day, her gaze softer than usual.
âYou look tired, darling,â she said, her voice low and soothing as she sat across from you. âBut donât worry. Things are going to be different soon. Iâll keep you safe from her.â
You nodded numbly, knowing better than to argue. âShe scares me,â you whispered, a faint quiver added to your tone. âShe... she keeps talking about getting me out of here, but... I donât know if I trust her.â
The faint twitch of satisfaction in Agathaâs expression didnât escape your notice. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing yours in a way that made you shiver.
âYou donât need to worry about her,â she murmured. âIâll handle Rio.â
Later that evening, you sought Rio out, finding her in the common room, idly twirling a fork between her fingers like a weapon. When she saw you, her expression softened, though her grin remained sharp-edged.
âWell, if it isnât my little escape artist,â she teased, gesturing for you to sit beside her.
You hesitated but obliged, lowering your voice to a whisper as you leaned in. âSheâs watching me, Rio. Every move I make. I think... I think she knows Iâm still considering leaving.â
Rioâs grin faltered, her jaw tightening. âOf course she is,â she said bitterly. âThat witch has her claws in deep, doesnât she?â
âShe told me sheâd stop you if you tried anything again,â you added, your voice soft but urgent. âI... Iâm scared of what she might do to you, Rio.â
Her eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, her fury seemed to melt away, replaced by something softerâsomething raw.
âLet her try,â Rio muttered, her voice low but vicious. âBut she wonât win.â
What you hadnât counted on was how far the two of them would go to maintain their hold on you.
It started smallâsubtle shifts in their behavior. Agatha spent more time with you, her demeanor bordering on saccharine as she reassured you that everything would be alright if you stayed under her care. Rio grew increasingly protective, pulling you into hushed conversations where she ranted about Agathaâs manipulative control.
But then came the night they both broke.
You were woken by the sound of voices raised in anger just outside your cell.
âYou idiot!â Agathaâs voice was sharp, her words slicing through the silence like a blade. âDo you have any idea what your little games are doing to her?â
âOh, spare me the concern,â Rio shot back. âAt least I donât treat her like some fragile doll you can lock in a cabinet.â
âBecause dragging her into chaos is so much better?â Agatha sneered. âYouâre reckless, unhingedâshe doesnât need that.â
âShe doesnât need you either,â Rio snarled.
The sound of a struggle followed, something crashing against the wall.
âIâm not letting you win,â Agatha hissed.
For a moment, silence reigned, heavy and suffocating.
Then came Agathaâs next words, quieter but venomous: âIf either of us pushes too hard, sheâll break. Weâll lose her. Is that what you want?â
The shift in tone sent chills down your spine.
âIf you think Iâm teaming up with you, youâre crazier than they say I am,â Rio said, though the venom in her voice faltered.
Agathaâs response was disturbingly calm: âWe donât have a choice.â
Your blood ran cold as realization dawned. You werenât escaping. You were being pulled even deeper into their web.
And now? Now they were working together to keep you there.
_-_-_
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#agatha harkness x reader#agathario#rio vidal x reader#dark fanfiction#agatha all along#rio vidal#agatha harkness#agatha harkness fanfic#kathryn hahn#marvel#aubrey plaza#dark!agatha harkness#dark!rio vidal
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â a whisper of what was
âźď¸Sylus x reader, angst
âMay we forget the cruelest trace of allâthe fracture of what could have been.â
word count = 0.7k
a short little thing, from the meme âim scared of marriage bc what if its not sylusâ đ
ps. i should really stop writing and actually start finishing my work



Silver-white patterns weave through the fabric, cascading over your body in effortless elegance. The gown drapes and falls in perfect harmony, each fold a whisper of grace. Light filters through, catching on the soft shimmer of silk and lace, casting a celestial glow against your skin. Scattered petals lie at your feet, a quiet tribute to your presence. A translucent veil, weightless as morning mist, brushes against your cheeksâits delicate florals a veil of mystery, obscuring yet enhancing the beauty curated beneath.
The doors glide open, and you step forward, the soft notes of the piano curling through the air like a whispered promise. Petals drift from above, weightless and slow, settling gently around you, each step marking the path to something irrevocable. The fabric of your gown flows with you, catching the light, luminous in its quiet splendor.
And then, at the end of the path, the world stills. Hands reach forward, careful and deliberate, lifting the delicate veil that has cloaked you in mystery. The air is thick with breathless anticipation as your eyes meet hisâsteady, searching, warm, and filled to the brim with love and admiration.
Your lips curl up instinctively, a warmth blooming in your chest. The weight of the moment, the nerves that had tightened your breath, all dissolve the instant your eyes meet his. Thereâs something steady in the way he looks at youâsomething certain, as if this was always meant to be. The world outside blurs, the soft music and falling petals fading into the background. Itâs just him now, standing before you, waiting.
But as you turn to the crowd, to the sea of faces witnessing this moment, your breath catches. Among them, just beyond the soft glow of candles and petals, you meet a gaze you know too well. Crimson. Vivid, piercing, and unmistakably his.
The world shifts. A tremor runs through you as a million fragments of memory surge forward, flooding your mind in an unstoppable tide. Laughter in the dark. Fingers brushing against your wrist. A whispered name. A promiseâone you had long since buried. Yet, in this instant, with his eyes locked onto yours, it all comes rushing back.
The air around you feels thinner, the weight of the past pressing against your ribs. But itâs too late now. Isnât it?
In his eyes, a million words crash into youâunspoken, yet deafening. Pleas, regrets, memories tangled in the crimson depths, unraveling like threads of a past you thought was lost.
In his eyes, you could feel everything. The weight of what was, the ache of what could have been. The fire that never truly died, smoldering beneath the surface, waitingâbegging for you to remember.
And you do.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, the warmth of the hand in yours suddenly distant, barely there. The room is filled with music, with blessings, with the weight of a future set in stone. Yet for one fleeting second, as your world collides with his, time stands still.
And your lips curl up once moreâa defeated smile, a quiet surrender. Not to the moment, nor to fate, but to the undeniable truth that lingers between you.
Your fingers rise instinctively, drawn to the delicate weight resting against your chest. The cool metal presses into your skin, a talisman of a time long past, yet never truly gone. A silent confession lingers at the edge of your breath, one youâll never say aloud but know he understands:
Even after all these years, you still ghost my mind.
Even now, as I stand at the altar of a new beginning, I wear the proof of you against my heart.
A silent vow, a relic of what once wasâof what will never be again.
But the world is cruel. Love itself, alone, is not enough to promise our destiny, nor to bind two souls beyond the limits of time.
So at the threshold of my new life, may our roads never cross again.
May the pain of our love get buried in the remnants of our memories.
And may we forget the cruelest trace of allâthe fracture of what could have been.
And so you break the gaze, and turn to look at the man in front of you. His eyes holding the comfort you seek, though not the depth. Not like his.
Never like his.
But you keep your smile, steady and unwavering. Your fingers finally loosen, slipping away from the gem resting against your chest, as if releasing the past itself.
âI do.â
#lnds#love and deepspace#sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#reader insert#x reader#sylus qin#sylus x mc#l&ds sylus#lads sylus#angst
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Butcher Shop Connection
FT: Simon x gn!reader
Warnings: DV, abuse, heat exhaustion, passing out, please let me know if anything else should be here!đ
SUM: The sweltering heat in the butcher shop forces a long-hidden truth to surface as you collapse under the weight of your own defenses. Simon, ever watchful, catches you in your moment of vulnerability, uncovering the marks youâve tried so hard to conceal. His shock gives way to quiet fury and unyielding care, his promise of support a lifeline in a sea of shame and fear.
A/N: This chapter is brought to you by confronting your demons in a poorly ventilated butcher shop! Itâs a tough oneâunmasking wounds is never easy, but sometimes it takes a little heat (and a collapse) to remind us we canât shoulder everything alone. Simonâs reaction? Chefâs kiss. A balance of rage on your behalf and the kind of steady reassurance we all deserve.â¨
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
Part 4 - When the Mask Slips
The butcher shop is bathed in the lazy glow of the late afternoon sun, its golden rays filtering through the dusty windows to light up the space in soft amber hues. The air is thick and oppressive, the old fan overhead doing little more than stirring the heavy warmth. The scents of fresh pork and beef, normally comforting, seem almost stifling under the weight of the summer heat. You and Simon are tucked into the far corner of the shop, where the light barely reaches, your voice bouncing softly between the walls as the day drags on.
Simon, ever watchful, notices the sheen of sweat on your forehead as it glints under the dim shop lights. His sharp gaze narrow, and his lips pull into that familiar smirkâpart teasing, part genuine concern. "Oi, mate, you donât have to roast yourself alive in that jacket, you know," he quips, his Manchester accent turning the words into a melody of care disguised as humor.
You wave him off, your laugh light but strained. "Iâm fine. Just a little warm, thatâs all," you reply, wiping at your brow with the back of your hand. The jacket feels heavier than usual, but you canât take it off. You wonât.
Simon studies you, his brow furrowing as the teasing gives way to something more serious. He leans forward, the golden light catching the faded tattoos peeking from under his rolled sleeves. "Come on, seriously. Take it off before you keel over. Itâs like an oven in here."
You shake your head, clinging to your stubbornness. "Really, Iâm fine," you insist, though your voice wavers just enough for Simon to notice. The heat feels like itâs crawling up your spine, making it harder to focus, but you force a smile, determined to convince himâand yourselfâthat youâre okay.
But youâre not. The world tilts unexpectedly, the golden light dimming as your vision swims. Simonâs voice becomes distant, muffled, as the floor rushes up to meet you. Then, nothing. Only darkness.
When your eyes flutter open, the fluorescent lights above you are stark and glaring, a sharp contrast to the warm glow of the butcher shop. The room feels cooler, calmer, but the weight in your chest is heavier than ever. Your senses are slow to return, but the first thing you register is a hand gripping yours, firm and reassuring. Simon. His face hovers above yours, his eyes wide with concern, his hair slightly mussed as though heâs run his hands through it too many times.
"Hey, hey, youâre awake," he says, his voice soft but insistent, tinged with worry. "You scared the hell out of me."
You try to sit up, but he gently presses you back down. "Not so fast, love. Just take it easy for a second."
His words are a blur, swirling around your hazy mind as you try to piece together what happened. The oppressive heat, the stubborn jacket, and thenânothing. Your heart sinks as the realization dawns on you. Your jacket. You tug at it instinctively, but Simonâs already a step ahead of you, his hands carefully easing it off your shoulders.
"Let me help you," he says, his tone firm but kind. You want to stop him, to argue, but your body feels too heavy, your mind too foggy to resist.
As the jacket slips away, the truth beneath it is laid bare. The bruises and cuts youâve worked so hard to conceal come into view, their stark contrast against your skin telling a story youâve fought to keep hidden. Some marks are fresh, angry and red, while others have faded into yellowed ghosts of pain long past. Your arms, your neck, even your collarboneâitâs all there, exposed under the unforgiving fluorescent light.
Simon freezes. His breath hitches audibly, and his eyes widen in shock. His gaze flickers across your skin, taking in the evidence of a life youâve never spoken about, the weight youâve carried alone. His hand trembles slightly as he reaches out, brushing against your cheek. The motion dislodges the carefully applied makeup youâd used to cover the worst of it, and he stares as the mask crumbles, piece by piece.
"Who did this to you?" he whispers, his voice low and rough, a mix of fury and heartbreak. His eyes meet yours, searching for answers, his expression a tangle of emotionsârage, confusion, sorrow, and something deeper, something tender and unyielding.
Tears prick at your eyes as you look away, shame and fear coiling tightly in your chest. You try to pull back, to shield yourself from his gaze, but Simon doesnât let go. His grip on your hand tightens, not in anger but in reassurance, a silent promise that he wonât let you face this alone.
"You donât have to hide from me," he says, his voice steady despite the storm in his eyes. "Not anymore."

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!
#bt extra#call of duty#fanfic#cod fic#cod#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#gn reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#butcher shop connection#simon ghost riley x reader#butcher!simon#butcher!ghost
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Thinking about slow dancing with sundayâŚ
Contains slight spoilers for the Penacony quest. Set before the nameless arrived in Penacony.

âDo you know how to dance?â
The scratching of a pen suddenly stopped, he lifted his head, pen hovering above the parchment for a moment, before finally being laid down beside it. Your voice echoed throughout his study, breaking the silence between you two.
âOh? Where did that suddenly come from?" His gaze drifted towards you. Moonlight spilled through the windows, tracing silver lines across your face. You were always beautiful but basked in the moonlight's glow, you looked absolutely breathtaking, as delicate as the forget-me-not's in his garden.
âI was thinkingâ you trailed off, slowly walking towards the gramophone resting beside the bookshelf. Your fingers trailed along the smooth brass surface of the gramophone, before finally reaching for the record tucked beside it. And with a click, a slow, but familiar melody filled in the air. âHow about a dance?â You turned to him with a smile.
You needn't say anymore. He rose from his chair, his leather shoes creating a soft thud along the carpet as he walked towards you. The moonlight that filtered through the window bathed him in an ethereal glow. It danced across his features, casting a faint glow to his golden halo. His dull gray hair shimmered, the moonlight painting it silver. It emphasized the sharp, yet, soft angles of his face. His feathery soft wings, pierced with golden studs. You wonder how he got that, whenever you asked, heâd always changed the subject. You let out a faint smile. Everything about him was captivating but it was his eyes that drew you in. His golden eyes, full of secrets, held a warmth that enveloped you. You could get lost in them forever. Ahhh. truly, he looked like a being that fell from the heavens. Befitting his title as âthe most handsome man in Penacony.âÂ
As he reached you, his hand extended, palm open and inviting. A soft smile present in his face, his gaze never leaving yours. âWell, then, would you care for a dance, mâlady?â
You gladly took his hand and slipped into his embrace, swaying together to the rhythm of the melody. In this moment, he could lose himself entirely. Whenever youâre with him, time seems to slow down, the world fading into a blur.
The weight of the Oak familyâs legacy - the 106,366 oak family members - loomed over him like a dark cloud. And with the Charmony Festival looming, a single misstep could shatter generations of aspirations. He'd been preparing for this ever since the dreammaster whispered words of promises in his ear. Every moment led to that one, final performance.Â
No longer would Robin have the need to go on a âtourâ and risk her life to bring harmony. No longer would everyone have to suffer and endure mortal pain. No longer would everyone have to tear down each other's throat for a mere sliver of gold. He will bring order and utopia to everyone. Yes, he will be their salvation, not a tyrant, not a conqueror, but a shepherd ushering his flock to a new dawn.Â
Yet, for a moment, under the soft glow of the moon, he allowed himself to forget. In your arms, the crushing weight seemed to ease.
For now, it was just you and him.
#thinking about sunday suddenly sparked something in me...#i love this man in a big amount#no one can ever make me hate you sunday#balik kana pls miss na kita at ng mga anak mo :C#hsr x reader#sunday x reader#sunday hsr#honkai star rail#hsr#sunday x you#yuna works
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