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yeyinde · 7 months ago

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the soft blue of a pale moon | Yautja x f!Reader

He keeps his claws fixed against the scruff of your neck. Forcing you down, bowed on your knees with your face tucked tight against his massive thigh, breathing in the stale scent of him. Even through the foreignness of it—the sharp burn of oxidising iron, rusted metal, and old, rotting blood—he smells good. Intoxicating. It makes you dizzy. Makes you greedy. For something. Survival, maybe. That instinctual drive, self-preservation, needling in your hindbrain to keep you alive. Despite your reticence, you angle your chin up, glaring at this creature, this beast. This Cimmerian god of old. Stygian king in his throne of bones, his pretty pet, his plaything, supplicant by his side. You won't ever submit. Ever.

warnings: noncon/dubcon. captive reader. predator/prey. forced submission. noncon D/s dynamics. forced mating. rough sex/violent sex. broken bones. belly bulge. biting. size difference. mentions of violence. scent kink (slight). marking/scarring (territorially, possessively). alien biology. alien genitalia. female presenting reader (female anatomy).

Yautja terms:Kainde Amedha — hard meat (refers primarily to xenomorphs)

Ooman — human

this is basically a Dark (from the 2010 avp video game lmao) x Reader fic. Yautja is not an OC. but you don't need to know anything at all from the game to read this.

lore:

comics, novels. divine wisdom.

The bed of furs is soft beneath you.

It's an odd juxtaposition compared to the uncanny harshness of the room you've been left in (held captive for days, weeks, months—) with its severe lines and its stark, unfamiliar geometry. The walls stained a strange, unearthly colour of brownish-gold, towering high into a domed ceiling etched with symbols and runes you've yet to decode. Ones you know you never will.

This whole place is otherworldly. Seemingly beyond the scope of science fiction, or what your meagre imagination can dream up. Reality. Fantasy. The two blend together to form this archaic, rustic interior that's somehow far too futuristic for your mind to understand, and yet shaded in use, in age. Space dust. Caught between old and new—new: unknown, unknowable—and utterly mesmerising despite the garishness of what lies outside beyond the edge of the pelts you rest on.

Adorning the walls are an uncountable number of skulls and bleached white bones. Weaving spines strung up. Spindly, alien vertebrae. Fantastical creatures. Mythological beasts. It's something only the most inspired minds can conjure—

And yet, it all sits within reach.

(The human skull on the wall, still attached to its spine, is perched over your head like an omen—)

You tear your gaze away from it, sliding over the trophies immortalised in a shrine dedicated to the prowess of the being who took you. An alien. Yautja, you’ve come to learn. Predatory hunters who roam the galaxies in search of the best prey. A race made of warriors with a strict honour code.

Though—

You don’t know how honourable keeping captives are to their society, but none of the other massive beings had tried to intervene when he had taken you on the ship, hauled over his shoulder like a conquest, beating furious fists into his broad back. They stood back, chittering to themselves in what you know is laughter. Mocking clicks. Low trills. They thought it all so funny, outlandishly so, to see him stalk through the thick haze of fog that blanketed the ground with a yowling ooman clawing futilely at his back.

(As if your weak, feeble fists could ever hope to maim, to hurt—)

You don't know why he decided to take you. Even now, aeons later as you pass by an unfathomable number of solar systems, all glimmering like crushed gems just beyond the domed window above your bed, you have no idea what brought this on. What made him look at you, and think—

Pet (mine).

And it's not for a lack of trying, either. But trying to prise anything out of him is near impossible. Chiselling for gold with a plastic spoon.

It leaves you with only one other villain in this story, and you very readily blame Weyland-Yutani for this mess—dig deeper, explore faster, mine harder—but yourself, more so, for signing your name on the dotted line in the first place. You knew it was a terrible idea from the beginning. Not too many planets are truly desolate these days. Not with those things, xenomorphs, roaming the solar system unhindered.

Nothing good ever comes from meeting them. Death, inevitably, follows.

Though, comparatively, you'd rather be sprawled out—naked, collared—on a bed of strange, soft fur than being used as a breeding sow for a race of parasitic monsters hellbent on devouring the galaxy.

Panic is white hot, electric. The thought alone makes you lash out, a paroxysm of pure adrenaline, fear. Your hand flies to your chest instantly. Fingers knotting between your heaving breasts, feeling around for any movement under your skin. A beat. Several. All erratic. Thumping harshly against your ribcage. And—

Nothing. Just the erratic flutter of your heart, bragging senselessly in your chest.

(stupid thing—)

Of course. Of course.

Out of everyone on the ill-fated expedition, somehow only you survived. Holed up in the armoury, listening to those serpentine creatures tear into the flimsy metal of your ship. Taking out the ones who managed to sneak in with a well-placed shot to their domed heads. Hiding in a corner waiting for them to find you, wondering if the last few bullets should be used on them or yourself.

It was days of that. Of piling these awful monsters high, and hoping the corrosive blood didn't ruin the hull to make an opening wide enough for them all to pour in, overwhelming you with your dwindling ammo.

Breathing in ragged breaths, all the while listening to the hisses skirting across metal, grazing talons down your skull. They liked to taunt you, a fact that nearly drove you to the brink when all the meandering words uttered around about their hive-like simplicity, their insectoid stupidity, fell apart. These creatures are deadly, cunning.

And smart.

They adapted easily to your patterns, overcoming your bullets and your patchwork ingenuity with ease. The only thing that kept them at bay was the metal being too thick to penetrate with their claws.

(And you watched, helplessly, as they realised this after the second week, and sacrificed the smaller drones to splash their corrosive blood across the thickened alloy, melting it slowly down to nothing—)

They would have gotten you soon enough.

Had to, really. Because the Queen was waiting. You heard her hisses in your head. Felt her in the air, disturbed and agitated, around you. Pulsing like a heartbeat. Hammering against your resolve with each nightmare she pressed into the folds of your subconsciousness. Luring you to her. Showing you the wonders of giving in, granting her access.

Coming home—

You don’t know how anyone could withstand her influence. The siren’s call from down the hall, showing you image after image of her children curling protectively over you. Nestled in a tight embrace. Safe and sound from the howling winds and the scorching sun, from the awful hisses outside, and the horrific sound of metal giving way, melting into a puddle on the floor.

It was madness. One you wanted nothing more than to give into—

And then they came.

Appearing out of thin air just as your bullet pierced her jaw when she finally came for you, her child—

She fell, taking out several of the others with her—ones not on your list of alien species to look out for—and left behind nothing but a passel of intimidating creatures and you.

He, their leader, was the first to find you. Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck like a misbehaving kitten, and pulling you close. Taking stock, you think, of the bodies behind you and the holes in the Queen made from your gun.

An uneasy, stifling silence fell, broken by a series of drawn-out, low clicks.

You realised then, right as he bent down and tore the claw off of a dead xenomorph, what these beings were. Hunters. Predators. It was rare to see them on earth, but you’d heard of several run-ins with these creatures whenever humans decided to mettle with their preferred prey.

It was even rarer that any human survived the encounter.

He cocked his head to the side before pressing the bloody tip to your cheek, branding you with the mark of the blooded. One that matched his own. Purposefully done, of course.

His crest on your skin, unique as a thumbprint, is the loudest proclamation of his claim. Anyone from any number of clans that roam the heavens in search of prey, of hard meat, know, immediately, that you belong to him. That you bear his mark, branded with the scar of his respect.

(Respect—such a weighty thing to carry across your shoulders, too. Something you'd been eager to obtain, hungering for it all your life. And now—

The blunt, almost suffocating heft of it feels permanent in a way you can't even begin to unravel.)

He'd taken you, then. Despite thinking of humans as soft meat, cattle, he'd thrown you over his shoulder and marched you to his quarters where he stripped the xenomorphs of their skin, and hung their bones on the wall—your trophies. Sat next to his own. A bold display. A show of respect, however rare—and unwanted.

And then he'd stared at you through the black slits in his horned mask. Just watching. Studying. It took a great deal of composure not to weep. To beg for—

For something.

Leniency, maybe. For whatever crimes you inadvertently perpetrated against them. For being here, of all places, because of the insatiable greed of Weyland-Yutani.

For believing in them in the first place, maybe. Following, desperately, in the footsteps of your fallen idol.

It never mattered much in the end, though. After a careful, blank scrutinisation, he'd simply reached down, talons digging painfully into your skin, and tossed you into the softest bed of furs—of pure, hedonistic luxury you'd ever felt—and followed you down with an inhuman growl that rattled through your bones. That seemed to echo throughout the ship, shaking the walls, and trembling through the floors.

The kicking and screaming never happened. Futility paints a desperate picture, doesn't it? And in those moments, now lost to time, you knew, somehow, that it was useless. Is useless.

He wanted you. Him, the captain of this ship you've been left to rot inside of. The one who knows your language, but refuses to speak it. Preferring, instead, to let the guttural clicks and the chirring of his foreign, unspeakable mother tongue take precedence.

The one who hunts, viciously, and wears his trophies around his neck. Strung up for all to see as they dangle across his broad, mottled chest. Black. Endlessly so. His colouring is shades darker than your own galactic canvas where midnight itself spills across satin, but the comparison itches in your chest, rotting along with your sickening heartbeat.

And you think he knows this. Because despite his fury as he slashes his way through the oddest assortment of extraterrestrial creatures you've ever laid eyes upon, he's cunning. Smart. Adaptable.

It's this, the strange, almost preternatural patience he exudes which keeps you where you lay now. The innate knowledge that he's a primal hunter, one who uses both instinct and a keen, calculative sense of awareness to ensnare his victims wholly, unquestionably. One who'd undoubtedly hunt you down to the very edges of the star system you escape into until you're bent down on both knees, supplicant to his prowess.

His little pet.

And oh, how he luxuriates in it. This little moniker given to you by his clanmates seems to make him preen each time you hear the familiar, rasping click of their scornful mockery.

Soft ooman. His ugly little trophy.

He snaps his mandibles at them in response, but keeps his claws fixed against the scruff of your neck. Forcing you down, bowed on your knees with your face tucked tight against his massive thigh, breathing in the stale scent of him—ozone, leather, spice, and a potent musk of mildew and loam, humus; the stagnant waters of a swamp teeming with algae blooms. Even through the foreignness of it—the sharp burn of oxidising iron, rusted metal, and old, rotting blood—he smells good. Intoxicating. It makes you dizzy. Makes you greedy. For something. Survival, maybe. That instinctual drive, self-preservation, needling in your hindbrain to keep you alive.

Despite your reticence, you angle your chin up, glaring at the creature, the beast. This Cimmerian god of old. Stygian king in his throne of bones.

You won't ever submit. Ever.

But you can play the part—if only until he eases his grip, allowing you to slip away again.

With a glower, you lay open kisses along the hard, leathery ridges of his black scute, chasing the oily tang of his musk on your tongue.

The feel of your soft mouth makes his thighs tense—all firm, corded muscle; raw, primal power sheathed in a thick, aggregate pelt of marbled colours. It feels like warm stone under your fingers. Oiled leather. Crocodilian.

His maw opens, and the sound that tumbles out is full of fractured syllables and inhuman chirrs, gutteral crepitate. It's not something your human tongue could ever expect to replicate, and your lips tug downward in a sharp frown, your displeasure at this game of his growing by the minute. His staunch refusal to speak your language despite clearly knowing it—and knowing it well—is aggrevating, if only for the sole reason that he kidnapped you. That you being here, listening to him, is not of your own free will.

The scorn is thick on your tongue, the vitriolic rebuttal taking shape already, but he silences you when his thumb grazes your jaw. The air in your lungs tumbles out in a shudder when you feel the unnaturally soft, yet firm, skin of his palm slide around the back of your nape.

The fight in you is numbed by the realisation that his hand alone spans the entire length of your shoulders, now curled possessively around your neck. Fingers overlapping, folding over each other easily into a perfect collar.

His hand closing over your throat draws your eye to the ringed gorget he wears around his neck.

The comparison makes you sick.

The talons on his fingers are warm, powder-soft like the beak of a bird, when they tap against your throat as you swallow, thumb still stroking along the ridge of your jaw. It's shockingly intimate, and the humanness of it settles in your stomach like a sinking stone. Granite needling against soft tissue. Mercury bleeding into your guts. You hate it.

Hate how much you don't hate it.

The juxtaposition fills you with a fit of vicious anger. You don't want to seek comfort from this beast.

Your gaze drops, resting churlishly on the thick skin of his belly. Despite the raw, indomitable strength that coils through his muscles, malleable obsidian, when he sits, the softness of his belly pudges out, jutting over the brass-coloured belt of his loincloth.

It's—

Another marker of his uncanny likeness to the human form.

But where you might have expected to see coarse hair, his lower belly is sparsely covered by a dense, thick cropping of quills trailing along his abdomen. They feel like softened polymer under your fingertips, but catch on your skin if you're not careful, the sharpened edge digging in. It's not as painful as the press of his nails, but itches like a thorn. Needles of a cactus.

They stretch upward. Arching along in a perfect mockery of a happy trail that stretches to form a heavy bushel on his chest, small whiskers on his chin, his brow, dotted along the crest of his crown where his tresses fall.

Dragging your gaze up this path leads you back to piercing amber set deep inside the bracket of his skull. They seem to glow, an unnatural light spilling out of their sockets, highlighting the rigid lines of his bones.

He's watching you. Always.

(You blame the rapid thud of your heart on fear.)

Knowing he has your attention now, he makes the noise again. Lower this time. A snarling rasp breaking apart between his flexing mandibles. The sound akin to the rumble of an avalanche; the roaring screams of a forest on fire.

You have no hope of ever mimicking it—not without drinking down acid to corrode your vocal cords first. The anger that lashes through you is a whipcord cutting its tip against your resolve.

“What are you saying? I don’t understand—”

His massive crown dips, mandibles clicking. His thumb presses into your skin. Intentional. Pointed.

It's then you piece together that what he's saying isn't a command or a taunt, but rather his name. One you have no hope of ever repeating unless you want to turn your vocal cords into tatters, strips of unusable tissue. Wasting your words on his name is not something you think you would ever want to do.

And so, you don't.

Maybe it's to spite him. Or to put some semblance of distance between yourself and the alien holding you hostage, touching the skin of your neck with a soft sort of reverence you hadn't known he was capable of. Whatever the reason, you twist the ugliness inside of your chest, the rage and sorrow, into a brutal knife, wedging it into the scant space between your bodies, prying them apart in a shallow victory.

He's a hideous thing, isn't he? This brute.

Raw power. Untameable malice. All hidden under this pantomime of honour. How laughable, really, to think these beings know anything of the sort. Or maybe it's just him in particular. The outlier of the lot. One with a confounding obsession with ooman pets.

Ugly, you think, staring up at him. With his sunken eyes, and his mane-like crown. His tusks clicking together in quiet pleasure, smug in his throne of metal and bone.

Ugly, like the mossy green surface of a still swamp. Stagnant waters. A black lake. Shrouded by a dense, impenetrable cropping of weeping willows and mangroves. Shading the water so much that the algae blooms turn black like tar.

Dark, like him.

And so, you whisper it. Not his name, but this vindictive moniker you pieced together thinking of the lingering swamplands covered in moss and peat.

“Dark.”

In response, his nails rake over the back of your neck in both a warning, a reprimand; the same harsh touch used on an unruly cub by its mother. The comparison makes you bristle, hissing out a series of cruel jeers at him, but he barely pays it any mind, too busy chittering to himself now, humoured instead of insulted by this tangentially human name you've bestowed upon him.

The juxtaposition, the humanness of it all, is almost too much.

How can a creature that ripped a xenomorph’s jaw apart with his bare hands have these soft rolls along his midsection. Feel humour the same way your friends back home might have at your taunting barbs?

The contrast is nearly comical. Sour.

You don't like it when he's too human. When he scratches his warm talons along your nape absently. Thoughtless. A little twitch of his hand offering threadbare comfort in an unconscious whim. When he's tactile with you. Tensile. Gentle. Touching your skin with an exploratory sense of curiosity, of fondness. Laying you down on the furs with a tenderness that is at complete odds to the rough, demanding way he'll inevitably mate with you.

Mate. Because your coupling is always animalistic. Brutal. There's no tenderness to be found when he presses you into the furs, rutting into you like a beast. Growling, snarling. Making you take, and take, and take until he's satiated—

But you think you like it that way.

Especially when he's fresh off of a hunt.

When he fucks you into the mattress with nothing but harrowing, inhuman roars spilling from deep within his heaving, blood-drenched chest. Guttural snarls. Harsh, demanding. Moulding your body to his liking. Grasping you in a crushing clutch, and drawing your aching hips back to swallow down the intense thickness of his cock as it buries deep—impossibly so—inside of you.

You like him angry. Like him rough. It rents the moments when he's docile with you; bifurcating the peculiar sheen in his beady eyes when he lifts his mask off, placing it on the metal mantle with all the others, content to just stare at you. Looking, watching. Assessing.

It's the unnatural stillness of his gaze that sets you on edge. The heavy, unerring way he takes you apart with nothing but deep amber drilling through your skin.

Through because you've pieced enough together to know he can't see you the same way you can see him. That all the sharp angles of your features are hidden. The infinitesimal detailing lost to some wavelength your human eyes can't begin to take apart.

He hides this weakness by touching you endlessly. Long, sharp talons dragging over the bridge of your nose. The dip in your chin, the angles of your jaw. The plumpness of your cheeks.

He buries himself inside of you, and plays an exploratory game of committing your topography to memory with the soft, thick palms of his hands. Lets his long, rubbery tresses brush across your face as he sets a maddening pace that promises to one day snap your pelvis in half again, eyes glued to the centre of you where you burn the hottest.

Between these moments is where you linger the longest. Oscillating between a pet or a mockery of a queen; supplicant to its owner, it's King. Head resting on a terribly massive thigh as he commandeers a ship that makes all the technological advancements of your home world seem rudimentary and crude. A child's rendition of a spaceship brought to life with broken crayons. Left there to bask in his prowess, his glory. Surrounded by artefacts and trophies of all his kills—but considerably lesser than the vastness of his quarters where he keeps his most prized possessions.

Yourself included. Polished diamond perched on a satin pillow.

One he keeps dressed up in armour, in plating; decorated in the traditional fabrics of his own kind—mesh netting that keeps you perfectly comfortable, acclimated to the unbearable swelter of their ship, the temperature almost too much for your fragile skin to handle; breastplates over your chest; a bronze loincloth with intricate webbing and a heavy belt to keep it in place.

Adorned with pretty gems and metal bands around your neck, your arms. His mark on your skin.

Belly bare, and offered no shoes. But this fact is not a pointed statement about your imprisonment or your status amongst them—it's just for the simple fact that he doesn't wear them, and so: neither should you. The axiom is so irrefutable, that the bare, gnomic revelation is almost obvious in hindsight.

Obvious. In the same way a lightning strike is. Being torn to pieces for getting between a mother bear and her cubs. Falling off a cliff after dancing too close to the edge. Trying to swim in aerated water.

Obvious. It's all so obvious, isn't it?

You spend most of your days in this liminal labyrinth. Lost in your own mind as space flickers past the large window in front of you. Pinpricks of light in the distance of an endless, unfathomable black nothingness. Perched on the precipice of complacency and dread. Never knowing when he'll grow bored of this game, and turn you from a living emblem to a skull on his mantle like all the rest.

If, of course, you're even worthy enough of a place there.

You just don't know. And that's the crux of it all. Not knowing. Kept on the brink. Shrouded in uncertainty.

You'd think it intentional if you hadn't seen the way he preens under your stare sometimes. Flexing in his metal throne, showing off his array of scars; the trinkets he picked up on worlds unknown. The open, wanting way he regards you—this little human, barely a scrap of thing compared to him, to the sheer vastitude of his bulk. Hungry. Possessive. Always snapping his mandibles at the other Yautja who get too close, claws raking down flesh, spilling luminescent green blood across the floor. Injuring his own kind for attempting to touch you—

The King’s conquest.

But his ire doesn't abate for you, either. You've learned the hard way what it means to try and flee from his grasp, and while it wasn't nearly as bloodied, as brutal, as it was for his kin, it was terrifying.

You thought you were toeing the line before when you'd dig your human deep into his thickened hide as he kept you tucked to his side, on your knees for him; or when you tug so harshly at his tresses that green blood leaks from his skull and he howls in pain, but you realised then that you were wrong. That those little moments of mutiny were akin to foreplay to him. Small, inconsequential. Spilling his blood earned you marginal amounts of his respect, and he showed it by dumping you on his bed, and burying himself inside of you until you'd passed out into the furs. Overwhelmed. Punished. But it wasn't. You weren't being taught obedience by his hand, but rather getting a playful slap for your antics.

He'd snatched you by your throat in an instant. His warm, soft palm enclosing over the fragile length of your neck with too much to spare for you to ever be comfortable. Long fingers overlapped across your nape, and he'd heaved you forward, slamming you into the hard plains of his body with a growl. Talons prickling into your skin, spilling blood down your back. He'd snarled so loud that the ship seemed to quiver, quaking under the sheer weight of his anger.

Amber eyes drilled into you, widened with the fever of his fury, burying deep into your being. Your head wrenched side to side in a slow, agonising jolt as he assessed you. Taking stock of the silly pest that tried to run from him. That had the gall to slink off like an insect scurrying over his feet. Dishonourable.

This, though.

Running from him—

Well.

In that moment, the air wrought with the metallic tang of his indomitable rage, you had thought: this was it. He was going to kill you. Flay your skin from muscle, and hang you in the rafters for the rest to gawk at. Easy prey. A fickle kill.

And with everything you'd gleaned about this strange tribe and their odd customs, it would have been a mercy.

But he didn't.

Doesn't.

His mandibles flare open, stretching out wide across his boxy jaw. The pinpricks of his teeth gleam in the hazy, saturated light of the ship; white, jagged peaks against fluttering, angry red. It shudders as he growls. The decibels pitched low, unfathomably so. You catch the spear of it rattling through his body, the rasping snark bellowing from the depths of his chest, and shaking the air around you. You can feel it reverberate from his flesh, the tight grip he has on you a conduit funnelling his anger straight into the middle of your throat.

It reminds you of a territorial crocodile bellowing in the shallow water, making it vibrate and splash around him as the shattering frequency ripples outward.

It's terrifying. Electric.

You feel it rattle through your bones. Feel the ripples trembling through your flesh.

It's primal, this fear. Animal.

But in the end, he doesn't kill you.

You're simply tossed over his shoulder like a rowdy, misbehaving pest, and taken back to his room, much to the amusement of his gathering tribemates peeking out of their room to see their leader tend to his wilful, misbehaving pet. He strips you of your armour with a careless, almost cruel disregard before pushing you back on the bed. There's a rigid line to his shoulders you'd never seen before; a damning flex to his jaws that make you shake, quivering in fear.

You know better than to speak, to beg. All it gets you in the end is a mocking series of clicks that you know enough to recognise as laughter. Instead, you take your punishment with your chin in the air, unwilling to submit the way he so clearly wants you to.

Your supercilious scorn has his mandibles widening in anger once again, and he exercises his control by shoving you face-first into the bed, and burying his tusks into the meat of your shoulder, keeping you still under him.

It's a clear warning. Move, it says, and his tusks will catch on your spine and rip it clean from your back. You still. Quiet. A prey animal lying prone, unmoving, at the feet of a chuffing predator as he mounts you from behind, rutting into you with a savagery that renders you into nothing more than a ruined heap under his bulk.

For your attempted escape, you end up with more of his scars on your body, indents in the shape of his flared mandibles on your shoulders, and a fractured pelvis. It could be worse. You could've died.

Should have, maybe.

(is that a plea? an orison?

and if so, why is it drenched in misery?)

And there is something vicious about the way he tends to your broken bones after, plunging the needle into your skin despite your howling, or the way you thrash. It's pure agony. The sensation how you imagine it must feel to be burned alive from the inside out.

That, you think, is why he has no qualms about leaving you alone now. Wandering off, chasing trophies and honour on a planet just outside of the domed window above your bed. A vicious, red world tidally locked around a small dwarf. One half shrouded endlessly in black while the other burns, charred from the intensity of its star. In the middle, you know, is a small strip. A habitable zone, if only just.

It's a place where a large, lumbering predator roams. One with towering antlers akin to the moose on earth, and jagged, spiked teeth protruding from its maw. The length is too much like a Sabre-toothed tiger for you to ever want to meet it face-to-face in the dark.

Proper prey. A worthy trophy, they consider it.

And, from the chittering you picked up, it seems that xenomorphs—kainde amedha—have found this place as well.

The thought of them down there—spreading, growing, infecting—fills you with a potent sense of dread, one that gnaws on your insides with serrated teeth. Vicious and ugly, it lingers in crevasses where it pokes and prods at your fear, and your worries, until they split open, leaking putrid rot all over.

It’s not that you’re worried about him. Not at all.

(despite the nagging in your chest that whispers you’re a liar when you press your face into his side of the lavish bed of furs, greedily inhaling as much of his lingering musk as you can—)

He's gone off on hunts many times since you've been taken, and most of them end up on worlds already broken apart, infested, by those parasites.

The notable difference is that brushes with them in the past never incurred much worry from you. If anything, you think you rather preferred it. Enjoyed the respite that came when he was gone, giving you a meagre ounce of freedom to think about all the (futile) ways you could escape.

And mostly waiting. Waiting for someone at Weyland-Yutani to notice the glaring absence of one of their engineers.

How laughable, really. Its echo is a false prophet whispering poison into your head, telling you that things will be over soon, that the higher-ups care less about profit margins than a whole fleet that went missing under garish circumstances on a planet you're soon beginning to think you never should have been sent to at all.

Saves money on wages, you suppose. And the expense of sending a rescue fleet in to investigate costs more than your yearly salary.

The bold, unignorable truth in that is a cruel, twisting knife to your agency. To the lingering remnants of your humanity, and worst of all, your hope.

No one is coming. You've known this for a while now. The toxic hisses are part of the reason why you decided to try your luck on a massive, earth-like planet the first (and only) time you've tried to run. Because without that, without this fraudulent hope, what else are you left with if not him?

And now—

It's been an uncountable number of days. Weeks.

Time in interstellar orbit is inconsequential. The beings themselves—yautja, you remember him hissing; garbled words mangled in his throat, and feel the burn in yours when you try to echo it in his tongue—have no reason to keep time, it seems. And even if they did, it's doubtful you would be able to interpret its abstract meaning.

But even without traditional clocks or human measures and scales of time, you know that he's been gone much longer than before. Agitation seems to simmer in the air. The yautja—unblooded younglings; juveniles in their comparably archaic youth—that come to deliver your food seem—

Restless.

Their maskless faces whisked in agitation. Shoulders set in a tense line. Eyes skewed toward the vast windows of the mothership, fraught with an eager sort of intensity.

You know, first-hand, how brutal their hierarchy tends to be, and have seen Dark use a brute, savage dominance over the younger, disrespectful, ones who ignored his warning in the past. The amalgamation, then, of their excitement and their uncertainty screams one thing:

he should have been back by now.

And it—

It does something to you.

Changes things, maybe. Skews your perspective.

Because the reality is this:

As much as you hate your circumstances, you're under no compunction that Dark isn't the sole reason you've been left, untouched, for so long. Why you're allowed to stay alive; to linger in his shadow, trailing after him like a lost dog. And you're barely certain that Dark won't turn around and kill you when the whim strikes him, much less his compatriots. His clanmates.

It leaves two brutal truisms for you to contend with: that you need him; and that without him, you're dead.

In that, you find there's almost too much to think about.

So—

You lean back, staring up at the pale blue moons outside of your prison, and think of nothing because if you can't see the pendulum, if you don't stare down into the maw of the pit, then you can pretend neither are really there at all.

You wake from a restless slumber to the door opening with a mechanised whirr, the rasp of heavy metals sliding against each other filling the air. A plume of thick fog billows up in response, shrouding the entrance in dense white.

The cloud conceals their identity, but it doesn't matter much. No one has access to these chambers. No one but him.

The long, sharpened talons on his toes clink against the floor as he approaches. Each footfall makes your heart jump, scattering in a strange, off-kilter rhythm.

Through the fog, he appears. Battleworn, and filthy. Splotches of dulled green blood cover his body from head (where you note a few tresses have been ripped off, some at the crown where a pock gapes open, deep forest green, and others at the ends) to toe. The majority of it is covered in the low, angry light of the glowing metal, the colour of molten rock. It's shielded from your prying eyes as he moves forward, strides purposeful as he lugs his wares over the threshold.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, broad chest heaving with each breath he takes through the mask still on his face. You take stock of him as he stills, cataloguing each change to his appearance now—a new scar down the length of his chest, blistered and scabbed over from the healing salve they carry on their hunts. Part of it is hidden under a thick patch of burnt skin. The splatter whipping over his lower belly, and raising the toughened skin up half an inch.

The infliction of both are immediately recognizable in their unmistakable pattern.

The slash of a xenomorph’s claw ripping through skin, shredding through it like paper; and the jagged, rough burn of their blood as it rained down, unhinged, on bare flesh.

He fought quite the battle, you note, and pretend the rapidness of your breath doesn't reek of relief.

His hard-earned victory sits in his hands.

The skull of a queen.

The sickly white already polished and primed, ready for its place on his mantle. It should be there already. Should have been his first stop. Per tradition.

But he breaks it by standing before you now, covered in grime and dried blood. Reeking of stale sweat. Of rot. And holding his wares in his hand for you to see. To take note of. He waits even though you know it costs him a great deal of effort to stand here, beaten, bruised, scarred, burnt as he is. Half of it is the same, undeniable stubbornness that they all seem to inherit; a weaponised sense of pride. The other—

Well.

The significance of this moment, of this break in a sacred routine, isn't lost on you, despite your best efforts to pretend otherwise. As much as you want to ignore it, it itches behind your ribs, pulsing like an infectious wound.

It's only when he sways slightly in exhaustion, the movement almost indiscernible if you hadn't been watching him so intently, do you release him from this strange moment. Bowing your head down in quiet, muted submission; a reverent surrender to his indomitable prowess.

This gentle, almost desultory yielding doesn't seem to click at first. He tilts his head down slightly, gazing at you through the black slits in his mask, seemingly uncomprehending as he takes in the sight of you—this errant little human who caused him nothing but trouble, offered nothing but mocking respect—bowing down to him after an indefinite time fighting to free yourself from under his thumb.

Until—

It does.

The massive, bleached skull of the queen is shoved in the air in a sudden chirr, pitched to the ceiling as he stomps his feet on the ground in an effort to widen his stance. Knees bent, he throws his head back, and lets out a ravenous, blood-curdling roar of victory.

It bludgeons into you. The force of it winding when it hits, bruising along your skin in a throbbing ache.

This doesn't so much as feel like toppling over the precipice, but already being caught in an unstoppable freefall.

(one you're not sure will be an indefinite fall to the stagnation, stasis; or will send you crashing down to the jagged rock at the bottom of this vertiginous drop.

the one thing you are certain of is this:

it's much too late to go back when you've already lept off the edge.)

—and so, the pit it is.

His thumbs pitch under the board curve of his mask, grazing the soft underside of his boxed chin. Carefully, he lays down a single finger at a time, resting it against the smooth surface before slowly lifting it off his face.

When the humid air hits his flesh, his mandibles flare out. Flexing. An unconscious response, you now know, after being folded against his mouth to fit inside the helmet for so long. Joints aching. Muscles hinged with disuse.

It's with this motion that you notice the absence of his left, lower mandible. The stump a mangled mess of cauterised flesh. It's ugly. Atrocious, even. The scars crisscrossing against moulted skin of pale amber and black are a harrowing emerald smear, an awful amalgamation of dried blood and gnarled tissue.

The shock of it is dulled under the weight of his success, and it's then that you know you're too far gone to ever go back. Where there should be pity, and—shamefully—disgust, all you feel is an overwhelming sense of borrowed pride. Chiselled from the staunch set of his shoulders, the flex of his muscles, as he openly preens under your stare. Angling his chin downward, giving you a better glimpse of his battle scars. A hard-earned victory.

A queen is no easy feat, after all.

His eyes find yours in blood-red gloom. Burning amber, chiselled into the canyons of his unique, unmistakable topography, seems to drill, intensely, into you. They stray, travelling down the length of your nude body, barely covered by the pelts of his conquests.

You spare a thought to the idea that seeing you this way, wearing nothing at all but his kills, is what makes his broad chest expand suddenly, shoulders pulling back as he preens. Puffing his plumage in a heady pride, a deep satisfaction that runs bone deep.

Waiting for him, you think. Dressed only in the hide he skinned with his bare hands.

He rumbles suddenly. Bellowing out a low, steady growl between his sharpened teeth. This noise is unlike anything you'd ever heard before—deep, unfathomably so; but hollow. It echoes, reverberating from his chest in a timorous pitch.

You could almost mistake it for a leonine pur.

He stalks towards you, and each step ignites a war within you. The urge to flee from this predator is fierce. Instinctual. It burns through you with a vicious force, but in that rippling intensity, kindling burns in the scorch marks left behind.

Just as potent as the urge to run is, the want, the desire, to roll over and submit to this massive, powerful creature rages, blistering through you.

But you force yourself to stay still. To wait as he moves, seamlessly, to you. Lighter now that he's stripped himself of the wrist gauntlets, the cannon mounted to his shoulder, his trophies, his kills—the dangling skulls from around his neck, and waist. The belt and loincloth were the first to go, freeing himself to display his immodesty, completely at ease in his own nudity. The thermal netting peeled off next, and dropped into a pile by his mantle. The chill—if a near-constant swelter could ever be considered such a thing—made his jaws flare out in the only sign of discomfort he would ever give, flexing under the slow acclimation to this balmy heat that clings to air.

The heat, though—

Such a relentless thing.

You feel the humidity burn through you as he walks, unashamedly bare, to you. An incredible length of skin unveiled for your prying eyes, glinting a devastating obsidian in the pale luminescence of the locked moons just outside the window.

In this sparse light that trickles in, you let yourself grow bold, greedy, for the fill of him, and let your gaze trail down the pockets of quills dropping down his chest, his belly, until you meet the thick thatch on his groin. It's here where your breath catches. Hitching loudly in your throat as he comes to a standstill within your reach.

As human as he sometimes appears—usually in the most inopportune times—you can't deny the obviousness in his extraterrestrial anatomy compared to yours, to human morphology. Birdbeak warm claws, tusk tips on mandibles, leathery skin connected through a series of irregular polygonal shapes in mossy black and blazing amber, baleen teeth sharpened to needlepoints—you would be remiss to think him human in anything other than silhouette.

But arguably, the biggest shock (outside of his maw) is, of course, his cock.

Softened, it's kept tucked away inside of a slightly bulging cloaca shaded in the same dark green hue as his outer arms, back, and legs. A dense cluster of quills sit in a thatch around it, protruding near his black, pebbled scute. It's firmer than you'd expected it to be, but softens near the opening where his cock emerges, intimidatingly long, thick. The fattened length of him, too, is foreign.

The end tapers into a fleshy point. Along his shaft are barbs, small ridges that resemble the scute covering his body, if only softer. The reminder of them makes you tremble, skin heating. Feverish. It's indescribable, really. The way they drag along your sensitive flesh on the outstroke, the sensation dizzying.

Covering his flesh is an oily, slick substance, and it's really only this natural lubricant that even allows taking the full length of him inside of you possible. The sheen of it glints in the light when he flexes his muscles, and steps closer to the bed, smearing slick against his thighs. Your mouth waters, flooding with the veracity of your insatiable want.

(You hate him. Hate him. Want so him so badly that it feels like you're burning from the inside out—)

The push-pull of your submission, still at war with your innate sense of self, dims, quieting when he reaches the edge of the bed, cock in full view. The jut of it, now fully extended from his sheath, hangs, heavy and thick, between his legs, bobbing with his movements, twitching in his growing excitement. Prespend, slightly more watery in texture compared to a human man, gathers at the opening, dripping down to the floor beneath his feet. A long, pearlescent strand clings from his weeping slit, dropping to land on the flesh near his knee.

The sight of it shouldn't be as sinful as it is—you’ve yet to find god amongst the stars and you doubt, very much, you ever will—but seeing the thick glob of his desire spill, leaking steadily from his twitching cock, fills you with a heady sense of want. Desire.

He hasn't touched himself at all. Content, almost, to stare at you, head cocking to the side as his beady amber eyes drill into your lower belly, fixed on the spot where you burn the hottest. The heat signature you give off, blistering; red-hot, is probably the biggest appeal to a creature like him who sees in shades of yellows and reds. The mismatch of your complexion, the nude state of your body, is inconsequential to him when at your core, you're molten. And all for him.

He knows this, too. Knows your body well enough to see the unmistakable burn of your desire. Your desperation. The slick growing between your parted thighs turns into a heavy, hot flood; pulsing full of electricity. The depth of your need grows increasingly uncomfortable the longer he waits, watching. You want him. Want this massive beast who stole you away, who held you down and made you take him, made you submit.

And he wants you back. This Stygian king cut from ashlar, limned in shadows, wants you just as much—if not more. Went out of his way to burrow past your pitiful defences to bury himself as deeply as he could, rearranging your humanity into a likeness of his image; branding you with his mark, dressing you in clothes tailor-made to fit. Giving you the gift of his prowess—bones, skulls: trophies from the most fearsome predators in the galaxy left at your altar—in this mating dance, this outré ritual.

His desire for you is overwhelming. Dangerous. Your hips twinge at the reminder of when he exercised his punishment, exiguous as it was compared to his sheer strength, smarting with the phantom burn of fractured bones as he gave in, infinitesimally, to this voracious yearning that smoulders, a constant ember, in the sunken depths of his eyes.

Something surges through you at the thought of him holding back as much as he has, at the way he thickens just at the sight of your blood red need. It's a strange amalgamating of animalism (pure, unquantifiable primalism, bestial in its savagery; feral), and a heightened degree of pride—the sort that leaves you feeling godlike, peerless: transcendent, in the very essence of the word.

He wants you. You.

And in that, the vestiges of your control cessate.

Submission, you find, feels too much like finding sanctuary amidst a raging wildfire.

In response, he trills. The thundering bellow vibrates through the air. An unmistakable pur of a beast successfully conquering its mate.

He moves—soundless and surprisingly agile for such a mountainous creature; prodigious down to his every atom—and makes a slow, aching crawl to meet you on the bed. His knees, the size of your skull, press down first, making the basin of fur dip under the enormity of his heft. Encompassed in his shadow even with him kneeling before you, it makes the absurdity in your sizes more pronounced. Thighs thicker than the trunks of fir trees. Arms the width of your legs. His chest is the span of your own, just duplicated thrice.

Dark is a beastly thing up close.

There's a thrum in your throat; a heady pulse, throbbing with adrenaline cut by dormant fear. As if sensing death so close by, an atavistic caterwaul begins in your hindbrain, screaming at you to run, roll over, submit, play dead—the flickering of these prey responses an instinctual deluge that you quell, half-heartedly, with the knowledge that there's nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

He'll find you. Even if he has to hear the star system apart to do it.

As if omnipotent to these weeping tendrils of animal fear, his broad chest trembles as he lets out a shallow pur. A softened bellow. The growl of a prowling cat on the Savannah.

You shiver, fisting the fur in your slick palms until it bulges up between whitening knuckles.

“Please,” is all you say, and you don't even know if this particular word registers to him at all. He never responded in the past to it (or stop, don't, no) outside of the rare occasion when he kept his helmet on, and mocked you with the garbled mimicry as he buried himself as deep inside of you as he could go.

This time, though, his mandibles twitch. His maw gapes open, displaying an egregious set of terrifying teeth, and the flutter of his throat grows, undulating in jerking pulses of flesh, sliding over each other until—

Puh–le’e–suh—

It's butchered beyond recognition. Maimed in the flex of his corded, baleen throat. But the intention is there, and the implication more so.

He spoke.

And it's a broken, devastating mockery of your mother tongue, but the force of it all is a blow, a bludgeon unlike anything you'd ever felt.

A whirlwind of emotions rage through you, all congealing into a muddled, indiscernible mess. It slips through your fingers, featherlight, but he doesn’t give you a moment to gather them together between your fists.

His tresses fall over his broad shoulders as he prowls forward, tiring of this epoch already. The long, tubular strands frame you in a serried curtain of black as he looms—gargantuan, mythical—above you, head dipped down. The massive crown lists to the side when you lean back, instinctively, spine meeting the furs in tandem with his slow advance.

The absence of his lower mandible when he flexes the others is novice in the liminal light that spills through the bulk of his body. You're not used to seeing him hurt like this. Ragged scars. Scorch marks tearing across his flesh.

Reflexively, you reach up. The tips of your fingers are feather-soft against the dry tresses just behind the missing cluster. The ends of them are cauterised—a thick, metallic clump glued to the bottoms to keep him from bleeding. Another anatomical anomaly.

Filled with veins and nerve endings, his tresses are far more sensitive to touch than the coarse hair of primates—the integument is different, too; rubbery to the touch, reminding you of polymer pipes or rubber bands, almost.

At your gentle touch, he makes a noise, a shallow churr in the back of his throat; mandibles soon folding over his mouth after. Reactive, you find, and endlessly endearing for such a monstrous creature. Cute.

A smile blooms at the notion of his sudden shyness. Such an outlandish thing for someone whose entire existence is narrowed down to honour and death. The pinch of his tusks elapsing over his maw fills you with a misplaced affection, a foreign growth metastasizing between your ribs.

You're not sure what it is—survival instinct, maybe. The urge, the drive, to keep living despite yourself; a blot against the harsh reality of your predicament. It feels like the most likely one considering the other is genuine adoration. Unthinkable even now in spite of your willing submission.

But thinking about this is a jagged dagger cutting through your insides. You shove it aside, hide it away.

The soft touch—a mere whisper of your fingertips gliding along the surface of his tresses—takes on a more intentional drag, purposeful. You curl your index finger around a corded forelock, giving a small, impish tug just to make him jutter above you.

His jaws flex, mandibles spreading slowly apart with a quiet, humid hiss. The heat brimming up once more as he curves his long mane over you, chin dipping down to encompass the entirety of your body under his.

You can't help wondering if this is what it feels like to be devoured.

And when he reaches the apex, eclipsing everything in your sight with the full, dark heft of him, hands fixed against the soft furs above your head, you think of a sanctum instead of a cage.

(a swinging pendulum—)

The heat is unbearable with him over you like this. Made worse, somehow, when his hand lifts, falls to your waist. The width of it covers you entirely. Swallowed whole by palm. You tremble, and he eats your anticipation with a distinctive, preening click, turning you on your belly with an ease that knocks the air from your lungs. Barely a featherweight to him. The notion is scorching.

The name he's given you is full rasping, mangled syllables your fleshy tongue could never begin to wrap around. In the absence of knowing how to speak it, you've begun to call him by your own human version of his namesake. It's this, the shortened, paltry whisper that rolls off your tongue when he presses the tapered tip of his cock against you.

“Please, Dark—”

At the soft utterance of it, he snaps his hips harshly in retaliation, burrowing his cock inside of you in a quick, jarring thrust.

It rents you in two, splits you down the middle. Your breaking point is surpassed in an instant; mettle fracturing, shattering on impact. It takes every ounce of willpower to cling to cognisance when he snarls through the last few inches of impaling you entirely.

In the static tatters of your consciousness, the realisation—a startling polyphony of fear, trepidation, and awe—that this is him holding back lingers on the periphery. That, in itself, is the rekindling of your appetite; hunger gnaws on shallow need, unsatiated by the threadbare scraps it's been given to chew on.

You say his name again. The whisper of it raw, wounded; scraping against your lacerated vocal cords, torn by the vicious howl, the shriek, that ripped through your chest when he seated himself deep inside of you.

He responds by snapping his hips into yours, the barbed ridges on his cock licking across your nerve endings in the almost perfect zenith of pleasure and pain. It's nirvana, you think. With hell nipping sharply at its heels.

The stretch—unlike anything you've ever felt before; incomparable outside of too much—burns furiously. The only thing keeping it from being impossible is the thick oil coating the length of him. The makeup of it must have analgesic properties, or some paralytic agent mixed in, because with each stroke, it soothes your raw flesh, erasing the pain of him inside of you, and leaving nothing but pure, unfettered sensation behind. It's just the thick, unrelenting press of him. The heaviness. The girth.

It's good. Too good. Overwhelmingly so.

A series of low clicks spilling out from his broad chest, the chirr of a rattlesnake. He must see it, the way your body floods with endorphins, with heat. The room, kept at an uncomfortable swelter, glues to your skin. Balmy, and achingly hot. The blister of it burrows deep, massing together into a molten core at the very apex of where he's buried inside of you.

Drawn there, moth to a flame, your hand slides between the damp fur, now drenched in your sweat, and comes to rest on the prominent bulge shifting through your abdomen. His cock.

Behind you, Dark lets out a susurrus hiss, and pauses the ruinous cants of his hips just long enough to let you feel for yourself how perfectly he changes your shape to fit himself inside. It's unmistakable, of course; but everything outside of raw feeling is liquified. Rendered numb. You know, somewhere, distantly, that this—feeling him through your muscle, your skin so distinctly that you can touch each ridge on his cock—is something that ought to break you, shatter you into pieces. The anatomical anomaly of having him stretch you like this, to this extent, is unfathomable.

And yet—

He drags his cock out, and you whimper, mindless, stupid, at the sudden loss of him.

You don't feel complete unless he's buried within you.

And despite yourself, the somnolence lapping at you, a part of you wonders if this is a symptom of that paralytic agent—musk, pheromones, miasma, poison—blotting out all logic, and inducing a soporific desperation, a vacuous need for him and him alone. One that makes wholeness out of the heavy press of his cock.

If it is, it doesn't matter much anymore.

You're too far gone, lost to the throes of it, to care about anything else.

A good thing, perhaps, because with Dark, it's always a selfish coupling. He pays no real heed to your pleasure, fully under the belief that his cock splitting you apart is enough.

And damn you—damn your treacherous body—it is.

Each brutal cant of his powerful hips slamming into you sends waves of pleasure roaring down your spine. To be pried apart, stuffed full of the overwhelming surplus of his girth notches against something inside of you that makes your bones liquid, your marrow running molten. Burning you up from the inside out.

You clench around him desperately, fingers knotting into the furs below, squeezing it tight in a vice. Trying, futilely, to cling to some sense of cognisance despite the vicious way he takes you apart. Atom by atom. Synapses bloating, crackling under the strain.

He fucks you like beast. All vicious snarls, guttural rasps; blood is drawn when his claws catch your skin, tearing it open like tissue paper. The sting is buried under the layers of sensation tunnelling through your body.

Pleasure, pain: equilibrium met on the cusp. Aided, in large part, by the frenzied way he ruts you; fractured, careless. Bullying himself into you until the tapered tip of his cock bruises your cervix—more battering ram than flesh; eager to wrench you open, spill himself inside of your womb.

You can't imagine what this must be like when he isn't holding back. Horrific, maybe. Blood, bruises. Torn skin. No wonder their hide is so thick.

But even this—tamed, as it might be—feels like a battle. A war. He spears you open, chirring the whole time as he curls over you, protective and awful, the motion forcing the last few inches of him into you. Bruised, aching, you whimper at the feeling of his sheath, white-hot and soaked with your slick, cupping your drenched cunt. He holds himself there, as deep as he can possibly go—tip a bludgeon against your cervix, stretched wide around the thick of him—and lets out another long, low pur that rumbles through you. Teeth chatter from the vibrations, delirious and bordering on the equinox of absolute damnation, your pussy clenches around his cock, each ridge and divot more pronounced than before.

Overwrought with bliss, with a nauseating pain, you keen in response to his deep bellow, feeling more animal than ever before.

Driven purely by instinct, you push back into him, thighs slapping against his own. The power in his muscles, the contrast between your supple, soft body and his, iron wrapped in thick, crocodilian skin, is flint striking steel.

A mere tinderbox, your body erupts in a devastating heat.

The burst of molten red makes him reel back, barbs catching on your sensitive skin. It's too much, too much—

He thrusts back into your spasming cunt with a shuddering roar, the sound alone—the lewd, drenched squelch of him splitting you apart—tugs the knot inside of you past its breaking point. As his claws rip through the pretty fawn fur, shredding them to pieces as he grips tight in an effort to piston his cock as fast as he can into your aching pussy, you find yourself tipping over the precipice in a stumbling fall. The force of it, the suddenness, is agonising, edging immediately into overstimulation when the deep, heavy jut of his cock head burrowing into your fluttering walls doesn't cease. It's—

White noise. Static. Your head is galvanised into slush, slurried into liquid pleasure that thrashes and writhes in your core, nerve endings set aflame in a wet, hot inferno under his bulk.

You puddle under him, burning with the aftershocks. Body melting, useless and spent, into the sheets as he drives into you with the single-minded purpose of reaching his own cataclysmic end. Numbed now, all you feel is an intense, dizzying pressure pulsing molten inside of you.

Dark braces himself over you, content to just rut deep into you, barely pulling the full, heavy length of himself out of your aching sex. With anyone else, it might be considered sloppy—a messy, desperate coupling, but even this much with him is devastating. Ruinous.

It's a maelstrom. A bleak, calamitous fall to the bottom of a blackened pit.

And with a savage, brutal plunge, he buries himself inside of you again, prising the soft plug of your womb open with a brutish roar—deep, broken; bellowed at the heavens—and you feel the steady pulse of him inside of you, filling you. It's too much—his fat, heavy girth, and the copious amounts of his spent stretch you past your limit, teeth raking across your mettle, and the bulge in your lower abdomen grows taut as he floods you with his release.

The end of the pit looms, and from the chasm, a jagged maw gapes open, gnashing its teeth at you in rapacious anticipation as you careen toward its empty gullet. Falling, falling, falling—

And in the midst of it all, you think this might be what dying feels like.

Your cognisance is drawn together in pieces, inchmeal.

A slow, gradual crawl out of slumber, the tugging threads of hypnagogia clinging to your rheum-heavy eyes.

Furs stick to your damp body, some pulling loose when you shift away from the uncomfortable, sweat-soaked puddle of heat beneath you.

Nausea roils through your belly, pulsing with dreadful synchronicity to the throbbing ache in your pelvis. In an effort to quell the feeling of your insides folding over themselves in a damning knot, you gingerly press the tips of your fingers to the spot that aches the most, feeling the raised indent of a contusion under your pads.

It makes you blink up at the domed ceiling, head lifting to catch a glimpse of soft flesh near your hip.

Through the midnight spill of your skin, you can see the tumid ridge bubbling up slightly higher than the rest of your flesh. In the middle is a small dot. An injection sight.

You realise, with a huff, that he must have broken your pelvis again. Unintentionally, this time. Caught up in your feverish coupling.

It makes sense. Your bones feel shattered beyond repair, but you know that they're knitted back together, suffused with the medicinal magic their healing injections have.

The thought should scare you. Be it the ease in which he can break your bones, snapping them into pieces; or whatever it is he's pumping into your body to heal it, but it slips, diaphanous and ephemeral, from your tangled thoughts. Untouchable now, slowly fading into the background.

The marbled quiet of your mind is broken when you feel him move beside you. His massive paw falls on your crown, covering the entirety of your head with an ease that you can't imagine ever not leaving you a little breathless at the scale, the vastness in your differing sizes. It rests there for a moment, leaching the warmth from your cap like a satiated, languorous reptile. A sluggish snake still digesting its oversized meat.

A series of clicks spill when you lull your head over to meet the burning yellow of his gaze, everything awash under the heavy scent of sex and loam. Stale sweat, iron. You breathe it in, blinking in the soft blue light of the pale moons spilling in from the window of the ship.

He lounges like a satiated cat. His legs spread akimbo; his other hand resting on his chest. The narrowing of his eyes, too, reminds you of a well-fed feline, squinting into a dewy oblivion.

With a deftness you can't keep up with, his hands shift, reaching out to take hold of you when the sleep drips from your eyes. It takes no real effort at all for him to drag you to rest between his spread thighs, head pillowed on the tuffs of quills covering his lower belly.

There's a twinge in your hips, but it's numbed by the palliative magic of the injection, pulsing like the soft beat of a headache through your bones. It'll hurt something awful later on when it begins to wear off, leaving you feeling more like a massive contusion than a person. But that's later. Much later. And as he rests his palm, warmed by your heat, against your nape, you find you don't mind the tenderness much at all, content to bask in the evidence of your coupling simmering, electric, between you, distinct in the air. An ozoneous tang. Heady. A sour, earthy miasma.

You breathe it in. Breathe him in.

And in the slow, soporific spool of your weaving thoughts, you can't help but wonder what he thinks of this, of you, as he reclines in the fur. Nothing at all, perhaps.

Or maybe something. Something you can't even begin to unravel. An archaic, primordial sort of want—animalistic, alien. The kind that would make him scar his own kind for gnashing their claws at you in anger, indignant over your mere presence in their leader's nest. Who would take a creature not of the same species, and parade them around as they bared his mark for all to see. A mate. A conquest. A queen. A pet. The fickleness of it is not lost on you, but there's something about the knowledge that this is as taboo, as unprecedented for him, for his kind, as it is for you.

And yet.

He still picked you. Of all the humans in the galaxy, crawling around like lost, queenless ants, he decided to shun the staples of his culture and take you with him.

That alone, you think, is enough.

And so—

You relax. Melting into the wrought iron strength of his frame, liquifying under the raze of his nails grazing your skin, pulling you deeper into this sense of complacency. Where else do you belong, after all?

You turn your head, nuzzling your nose into his quills. Into his skin. The potency of his smell is stronger here, so close to his groin, and you groan a little at the twinge in your cunt at the heady, briny weight of it settling on the back of your tongue when you breathe in deep.

He chuffs a bit, quietly pleased by your obvious scenting. The way you bury your nose into the crease where his inner thighs bend, drawing in the pungence of his unwashed flesh. It drags your attention away from his heavy musk, head lifting to catch his blistering, intent gaze. It darkens slightly at the sheen smearing across your chin and nose, covered in the natural oils of his pelt.

It's unlike yourself, but you find the depth of his intrigue deeply arousing, and slowly lick your stained lips, chasing the taste of him with your tongue.

A rumble reverberates from his broad chest, shaking the bed with his quiet growl. It's the only warning you get, the only one he'll give, before the other hand folds over your lower back, pushing your belly into his sheath where he swells, hot and thick, between you.

His eyes glow in the absence of light. Pale amber flickers when you arch into his chest, needy for him, and it unveils a catacomb desire much too primordial for you to ever dream of mapping. The deep pool of it unspools you, and you fall, weightless, to the bottom.

Ensnared.

#for someone who's entire identity is “i wanna fuck an alien/monster/yautja so bad it makes me look stupid”#i have a surprising lack of smut in my repertoire #yautja x reader #yautja x human #dark (avp) x reader #predator x reader #avp #predator #yautja smut #yautja

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imsilay · 8 months ago

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ehem *storms into room and closes the blinds*

do you guys ever imagine having König in your lap. he’s so tall and big so his weight practically pushes you into soft cushions. he buries his head into your cleavage or suck on your nipples as you stroke his thick cock with your free hand, other is busy with supporting and tugging his hair, until he whimpers for the first time like a fucking sub and cums all over your hands. you’ve never heard him make that noise so you tease him further, maybe overstimulate a little, just to head him again. he’s always acting mean, being rude and degrading you, so you take revenge on him by making him cry.

(idk i think he has mommy issues)

DO YOU ALSO THINK HE WOULD WRAP HIS BIG ARMS AROUND YOUR MIDDLE AND SQUEEZE AS YOU JERK THE LIVING HELL OUT OF HIM?!?! LIKE TILL HE CANT TAKE ANYMORE AND BITES YOU TO STOP?!?! LIKE HE FUCKING CRIES?!?!

(maybe i should’ve stay silent about this lol)

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jamdoughnutmagician · 2 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about giving Steve a languid, and tortuously slow hand-job. His t-shirt is rucked up enough to show off his soft hairy tummy, and his boxers are pulled down just enough to free his heavy cock from where it was eagerly tenting underneath the material. It's quiet, and neither of you are in any hurry. His pink tip is streaming with pre-cum to slick your fist as you stroke him. You're leaning into him, your lips pressing a hot trail of kisses into his neck whilst he lets out soft little whimpers of pleasure. His freckled skin is flushed with a scarlet pink sheen as he desperately begs for his release. When you finally take pity on him enough to stop your teasing, his stomach muscles tense and he's spilling rope after rope over the knuckles of your fist.

#no surprises but I'm thinking about him again this evening #I just think there's something about slightly subby whiny steve idk?#it just scratches a particular itch in my brain #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut

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kithtaehyung · 5 months ago

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street kings (m) (teaser) | myg/kth

title: street kings (m) pairing: racer!yoongi x reader(f), racer!tae x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; street racing au summary: power struggles are something you're used to seeing in your fast-paced part of town. but when you have ties to both sides of the biggest one yet, things turn... interesting. note: okay uhh.. the tae pic dropped and so did all my fucks given? is that a good excuse to whip out a spicy muy caliente taegi plot? lmao note 2: thank you all so much for being patient with me! life has been moving very fast and there's still a lot going on. but i'm writing every night! hopefully that means more and more stuff can drop in the next half of 2024. warnings: multiple explicit scenes, mmf explicit scene, violence, blood mentions, alcohol/drug mentions, tense situations, power struggles, reader is a baddie but who is shocked, taehyung needs his own warning, yoongi needs his own warning, unsafe driving conditions, fast-paced scenes, crashes, what in the challengers, jk (unless??) smut warnings: to be smacked here on drop day but i'm already struggling to keep it together bc they both cannot get enough of reader goodbyeee drop date: as soon as i’m done! playlist: pov ur in the middle of a street racing power struggle word count: projecting 10k✌️

"you can't convince me to pick a side.. but i won't stop you if you try."

⟶ who's ready to rumbleee! | 🏙️ join the taglist 🏙️ | masterlist

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wifeyoozi · 4 months ago

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"Best Dick Award"

just a blurb ,, crack/suggestive ,, aka having another episode of ceecee's madness reaching a new high

You and Jihoon are lounging in your living room, enjoying a lazy afternoon together. The TV is playing some random show in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention. You're too busy giggling to yourself, holding a small, hastily wrapped box in your hands.

"What's so funny?" Jihoon asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks over at you.

You can't help but snicker. "I have a surprise for you."

Jihoon sits up a little straighter, curiosity piqued. "A surprise? For me?"

"Yep," you say, handing him the box. "Go on, open it."

Jihoon takes the box, giving you a skeptical look before tearing off the wrapping paper. Inside, he finds a small golden-painted plastic trophy, the kind you might get from a novelty shop. The plaque on the front reads, "Best Dick Award."

Jihoon bursts out laughing, holding the trophy up for a better look. "Are you serious?"

You nod, trying to keep a straight face. "Totally serious. You’ve earned it."

Jihoon shakes his head, still chuckling. "And what exactly did I do to deserve this prestigious honor?"

You grin, leaning back on the couch. "Well, for one, you've been exceptionally generous with your, uh, 'services.' Plus two, you’ve set a new standard in, shall we say, performance. And last but definitely not the list, you are endowed in a way to just please women." You chuckle with a wink.

Jihoon smirks, clearly amused. "Wow, I'm honored. I'd like to thank the academy, my parents for always believing in me, and most importantly, my lovely partner for being such a dedicated audience."

You burst into laughter. "You're welcome! It's a tough job, but someone’s got to do it."

Jihoon sets the trophy on the coffee table, still smiling. "So, do I get any other perks with this award? A speech? A victory lap?"

You tap your chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, I think the award itself is pretty prestigious. But I suppose we could celebrate... privately."

Jihoon's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, a different kind of lap, I see. I like the sound of that. Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Don't let it go to your head. Or, you know, the other head."

Jihoon laughs, pulling you into his arms. "I promise to use my powers wisely."

"Good," you say, snuggling against him. "Because I might just have to revoke your title if you don't."

Jihoon gives you a mock serious look. "I'd better stay on my A-game then. Can't risk losing the 'Best Dick Award.'"

You laugh, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. "Exactly. Now, Mr. Best Dick, how about we start our celebration?"

Jihoon grins, pulling you over his lap. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

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r2d2lover · 1 month ago

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Healing Touch

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, fingering, aged-up characters, semi-public sex, Hogwarts Uni AU

Summary:

You give an alternative form of medicine after an injury lands star Quidditch player, Mattheo Riddle, in your care.

Friday nights always brought a familiar routine - milling around the bustling infirmary, secretly hoping for some excitement to break up the monotony. You couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt at your thoughts, wishing for someone to get injured during the intense Quidditch game and be sent to you for patching up. But most of the time, it was just a steady stream of students in need of minor first aid and basic pain relief potions after the games. And yet, despite the lack of excitement, you found comfort in these quiet evenings spent with Madam Pomfrey, the kind-hearted matron who ran the infirmary. Your friends may have called it "sad," but you found solace in her company and often lost track of time as you engaged in riveting conversations with her. You were no stranger to the infirmary; you had been under her watchful advisory since secondary school and working your way to a full time job at St. Mungo’s upon your graduation. It was almost therapeutic, in a way, to escape from the chaos of game day and simply unwind with such a wise and motherly figure.

Tonight, however, was different. It started off normal enough, with the most exciting prospect being refusing a stash of Mallowsweet leaves from kids looking to smoke the dried herb. That incident caused Madam Pomfrey to ask you to catalogue the stores, which you did happily while humming to yourself. Right before you could start, the infirmary doors busted open with a bang, startling you from your reverie. A group of students clad in green fangear from hats to painted faces rushed in, supporting a limp figure between them. Your heart raced as you recognized the unconscious form of Mattheo Riddle, his Quidditch robes torn and muddy.

"Bludger to the head," someone shouted as Madam Pomfrey hurried over. You sprang into action from your position, grabbing potions and bandages as the matron directed. For once, your presence wasn't just busywork; you were needed.

Mattheo was carried in on a magic stretcher, curled up in pain and still spilling curses from his bruised lips. If it had been earlier in your youth, you would’ve assumed the Slytherin boy got into some fight. In your apprenticeship years in secondary school, you patched up your fair share of Mattheo Riddle confrontations of both parties. At some point, Mattheo turned himself around by channeling his anger into Quidditch and even ended up scoring a scholarship to the same uni as you. He was still a regular customer of yours, especially since he started setting his sights on playing professionally. And if you were honest with yourself, you liked the conversations you had with him while you held his hand and set a broken appendage with Skelegro or stitched him up after a nasty fall. Though your relationship was transactionally based, you found yourself referring to him as your friend. Mattheo was a natural charmer as well, and you had your fair share of flustered moments on an off-handed comment of his. Even if you preferred the company of Madam Pomfrey on Friday nights, you definitely favored a more flirtatious company.

You unloaded the star Quidditch player onto a hospital bed at the end of the hall for maximum privacy. You dismissed his friends with thanks and told them that they needed to leave if they wanted to see Mattheo get better. As you drew the curtains around Mattheo's bed, you caught a glimpse of his pained expression. Your heart clenched at the sight. Madam Pomfrey bustled over with her wand at the ready, muttering diagnostic spells under her breath.

"Mild concussion, broken arm, and a nasty laceration on his thigh. Nothing we can't handle, but it'll take some time. Fetch the Blood-Replenishing Potion and prepare a Calming Draught. I am going to the pitch to see if there are anymore injuries," Madam Pomfrey announced grimly. You nodded, hurrying to the potions cabinet. As you gathered the necessary vials, you heard Mattheo groan.

"Wha... happened?" Mattheo slurred, trying to sit up. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. You shushed him and held up the Calming Draught to his lips, coaxing the liquid into his mouth gently. You raked your fingers through his body to check for any more injuries, silently biting back your breath as you felt how hardened his muscles were. That’s wildly inappropriate, you scolded yourself. You mixed the Calming Draught with the ill-tasting Skelegro, hoping it would disguise the taste enough for him to stomach it. Mattheo was still hazy when you wrapped his arm in a sling and he found comfort in squeezing your arm to ease the pain. Normally, you would never let the identity of your patient cloud your level of care, but Mattheo was just different.

“You took a nasty fall during the game tonight. Hey, I… I’m going to have to remove your pants to get to that cut on your thigh,” You say shakily while slowly and gently peeling back the blood soaked bandage. The medic on the pitch did a haphazard job, which only brought him more pain. Mattheo let out a silent hiss through gritted teeth before he nodded. He tried to use his free hand to help you unlace the front of his uniform, but you waved him aside. With a slung arm, you had no option but to take pity on him. You undid his pants quickly while keeping an eye on his face to gauge his pain. For a man with a broken arm and a deep laceration on his upper thigh, he seemed to be more focused on you undoing his pants. He watched you in a labored mixture of panting and groaning, but he eventually conceded to the pain and threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. You held up a drink spiked with Wiggenweld to his lips to distract him from the pain in his leg, but really you were trying to distract yourself from the sinful sight in front of you.

“Bloody hell… Do you think they’ll let me play in the game next week?” Mattheo sipped on the pain relieving potion greedily. You watched him with matched greediness as he licked droplets of the potion off his lips and threw his head back. For your own sanity, you patted the corners of his mouth with a rag. Mattheo wrapped his hand around your arm in what you guessed to be an attempt to steady himself, especially as you turned your focus back to his bloodied pants.

“I’m not sure, but if you let go of my arm, I can try to make sure that you do,” You teased gently, flexing your arm to signal him. Mattheo opened his eyes in embarrassment and released his iron-clad grip on your bicep. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand was so large that it completely wrapped around your arm and choked your blood supply. He apologized sheepishly, then delved his front teeth into his bottom lip while you finally pulled off his pants. “Tell me if it hurts any more, I can give you more Wiggenweld.”

“The pain’s not so bad… it’s more of a mental thing, I think,” Mattheo watched carefully as you started to clean the scape on his thigh. It was a nasty mark, but he seemed proud of it and didn’t regret the scar it would form if it meant securing the championship. You slowly massaged a salve into his skin, which made him shiver and jump.

“Mental?” You questioned without looking up. His words tightened a knot in your stomach but you persisted. Your hands dipped back into the pot of salve to add another layer but Mattheo grabbed your wrist.

“Please, you must hurry up. I don’t think I can handle you rubbing on my thigh much longer. It’s bloody torture,” Mattheo breath hitched as you twisted out of his grip and returned your hand back to his thigh. The knot from before threatened to jump out of your throat at his words, but you weakly laughed it off as you continued applying the cooling paste. The Quidditch player should’ve also won a championship for self-restraint, for even with your hands brushing the edge of his plaid boxers, he was well composed. You figured it was the pain from his injuries to save both of your egos.

“Maybe I like you in a compromising position. Makes you less… godly, I guess,” You joked with a soft smirk. Mattheo made an odd gurgling noise that sounded like a choked groan, but your back was turned to him while looking for a bandage. When you turned back around, Mattheo’s eyes were opened with a thigh-clenching darkness to them. Swallowing dryly, you chose to ignore it and started to bandage up his thigh. Mattheo’s fingers twitched at his side, as if he were trying to reach out. The wicked side of you just wished he would. “Too tight?”

“No, that’s fine... Fuck, maybe we should stop talking,” Mattheo snapped out of whatever trance he was in and sat up.

“I don’t know… what you’re talking about…” You mentally kicked yourself at how timid you sounded. Mattheo leaned forward and grabbed your waist tightly with his free hand. You gasped at the way his fingers dug into your sides and the show of strength it was to make you crash into him. “Mattheo, this is highly inappropriate-!”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop me?” Mattheo’s voice dropped an octave and the bass vibrated your core. You shook your head with a stammer, but still you let Mattheo bring his warm breath from your ear to your jaw.

“Madam Pomfrey- She might-” You struggled to keep your composure as to not give Mattheo the satisfaction. You suppressed a moan with a cough.

“Then you should be quiet, hm, love?” Mattheo grinned against your jaw before dragging his mouth down further. He pulled you against his sling, wincing only slightly as you pressed into his bad arm.

“You don’t even like me,” You said breathily, trying to convince yourself more so than the man trailing kisses down to your collarbones. “You’re just confused… or like… misguided because I healed you.”

“What do you know about me, love?” Mattheo removed his mouth so that he could look at you. He grabbed your face with a conviction that silenced you. His eyes were deliciously glazed with lust and you felt yourself start to slip into his clutches. He strategically placed his mouth anywhere on your face except for your lips. While it was a tantalizing jest, it was a strange reminder that this was just sex for him.

“Mmm… I know that I’m not letting you take me in the infirmary,” You hissed. Mattheo grinned while he pulled you closer onto him and pressed his thigh against your legs. Your body betrayed you and you let out a soft moan.

“"How very stubborn of you..." Mattheo whispered in a low voice as he placed his mouth back on your neck. He attempted to bait you into grinding against him by rutting his thigh deeper into your core. "But... you're not fooling me. I know you're enjoying this just as much as I am..."

“It’s not a matter of enjoyment,” You stammer with a louder moan. Mattheo chuckled with satisfaction.

“Sure it isn't, love," Mattheo mocked, then he tugged free the buttons of your blouse. "Then tell me... why are you making those pretty little noises for me, hm?"

“You’re torturing me,” You pleaded. Mattheo's hand moved with a controlled eagerness, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse. His eyes held a glint of satisfaction and mischief as he looked up at you. The intoxicating scent of Mattheo's cologne mixed with the scent of your own arousal filled the air, creating a heady and sensual atmosphere.

"Torture, is it? Well then, allow me to ease your suffering. Consider it repayment?" Mattheo's lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Oh, c’mon. You already took my pants off for me.”

Mattheo’s hand slipped beneath your loosened blouse, fingers tracing along your ribs. You shivered at his touch, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. Mattheo's mouth found yours again, his kiss hungry and demanding. This time, you responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair. He rolled his fingers into your bra and over your perched nipples. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into Mattheo's skilled hands. Your body craved him. He chuckled low in his throat, clearly pleased with your responsiveness.

“Tell me you want this,” Mattheo’s words bubbled in his throat. With the use of only one hand, he made use of the situation and dragged his mouth down to your chest instead. The second his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, you swallowed a loud moan and pulled tightly at his curls. The pain made him growl and he only repeated himself. “Tell me you want me.”

“Do I really need to stroke your ego right now?” I chuckled back a moan. Mattheo bit the skin of your breast, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be a warning. Your thoughts melted into nothingness as his tongue began to soothe the spot he had just bitten. His hand now delved under your dress hem and his fingers swirled around the top of your panties. He snapped the waistband tauntingly with an eyebrow raised at your insolence.

“You could always stroke something else,” Mattheo murmured. He twisted a fistful of the top your panties, the digging fabric providing a taste of friction. His voice dropped down to a threat. “I’m not asking now. Tell me.”

"Mattheo, please," You whimpered, your hips unconsciously shifting towards his teasing fingers. He released his hold and instead yanked off the thin fabric. Paranoia stirred inside you and you quickly looked around the quiet infirmary to see if your boss would catch you. Madam Pomfrey must’ve actually left and entrusted the clinic in your care. Though not the moment to think of it, it warmed you with a sense of pride. You tried to focus on that thought instead of diving headfirst into Mattheo’s fantasy.

"That's not quite what I asked for, darling. Try again,” Mattheo clicked his tongue, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. He had incredible patience with you, but you just thought it was because he liked to see you in such a compromised position. He dragged an ant agonizingly slow finger up your slit while still keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped at the contact, which only made him move slower.

“I want you, Mattheo, please,” You were rambling at this point, much to Mattheo’s satisfaction. His eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Please, you have to hurry. Someone could walk in.”

"That's more like it," Mattheo purred, his finger now circling your most sensitive spot. The corners of his lips quirk up in a wicked grin, his dark hair falling in disarray around his face. You were officially delirious with lust. "But I think I'll take my time. The risk makes it more exciting, doesn't it?"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as Mattheo increased the pressure, your hips bucking involuntarily. The fear of being caught warred with the intense pleasure building within you. You couldn’t believe you were actually excited at the prospect of getting caught. Mattheo nuzzled your neck, encouraging you to tilt back your head back to expose your neck. His lips trailed hot kisses along your throat, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. At the same time, he curled his middle finger into your heat while stifling your moan by dragging his tongue in your mouth.

“If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to stop. Do you want that, love?” Mattheo sunk his teeth into your earlobe and inserted his forefinger. “Fuck, are you sure you can handle anymore? You’re already getting off on just my fingers. Maybe this is enough for you.”

“No! No… Please, Mattheo…” Mattheo’s fingers were a delicious stretch, his hands large and rugged from his sport. They were nothing compared to yours and when he moved his thumb over your clit, you had to bite his shoulder to stop yourself from crying out. You barely caught yourself in time and forced yourself to silence your moan into a whimper. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your desperation.

"Please what?" Mattheo taunted, still continuing the ministrations of his fingers. He move his mouth back to your breasts, which only intensified the molten lava in your veins. You sucked in every moan with a tremor. "Tell me exactly what you want, love. I want to hear you say it."

"I... I want you inside me," You managed to gasp out between embarrassment and overwhelming desire. "All of you. Now."

Mattheo growled low in his throat, his patience and control finally snapping. In one fluid motion, he pulled you back into his hospital bed, which groaned loudly in a threatening exposure. You straddled him on the thin mattress, giving you a wonderful view of his darkened face. His hands made quick work of your remaining clothes as he positioned himself between your thighs.

"Remember," Mattheo warned, while he pressed the head of his length against your opening. "Not a sound."

You nodded frantically, biting your lip hard as Mattheo slowly pushed inside you. You buried your face deep into the crook of his neck and let out the moan you’ve been holding back escape. The stretch was exquisite, bordering on painful, and you had to concentrate every fiber of your being on staying quiet. You chanted his name into his neck as a prayer to stay quiet. Mattheo's eyes were dark with lust as he watched your face, clearly enjoying your struggle to remain silent.

"God, you feel amazing. So tight, so perfect for me," Once he was fully sheathed, Mattheo paused, giving you a moment to adjust. The two of you were artfully balanced between his injuries, which provided you a small distraction from falling over the edge of your climax too quickly. You whimpered softly in response at his words, rolling your hips to encourage him to move. Mattheo took the hint, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with a powerful snap of his hips. The bed creaked ominously, and you both froze for a moment, listening for any sign that someone had heard. Mattheo snickered at your paranoia. When no one came, you gripped his shoulders and started to move yourself on his length again.

“Am I hurting you?” You asked shakily, feeling the bandage from his thigh rub up against yours. Mattheo let out another low laugh.

“I should be asking you that,” Mattheo’s voice was deliciously raspy in your ear and his chuckle made your knees weaken. You could barely hold your pace. Mattheo dug his fingers into your ass before giving it an intense smack that drove the pleasure in your stomach deeper. Surprisingly, he let you take control, but he still moved his fingers back and forth from swirling on your clit to your nipples.

“Your leg… your arm… I mean- Oh…”

“I’m fine, love. Don’t worry about me. you take me so well,” Mattheo assured. He brushed the hair out of your face and tugged it back to see your plain face. Your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure coursed through you, but Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened. "Look at me. I want to see every expression on your face."

On his command, you forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The vulnerability of being so exposed, both physically and emotionally, sent a shiver down your spine. Mattheo's eyes softened for a moment, a tender smile playing at his lips before desire overtook him again. He began to thrust up into you, matching your rhythm. The new angle had you seeing stars, and you bit your lip hard to keep from crying out. Mattheo's hand left your hair to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing over your abused lower lip.

“I’m close,” You whispered almost shamefully, panting at how hard you were trying to stay quiet. As you whispered, your face contorted with pleasure and your eyes squeezed shut. The flush of arousal spread across your cheeks and down your neck, your lips red and swollen from being bitten. Mattheo's gaze was locked on you, devouring your every expression, his own face twisted with lust and desire.

“You better look at me if you want to cum. I want you to look me in the eyes while you make a mess of yourself all over me,” Mattheo commanded with a growl. You snapped your eyes open, which was rewarded with a hand on your clit. He circled it with tighter grouping and precision, making it all the harder to stay silent. “Fuck, you’re impossibly tight. Fuck- Say my name when you finish, mmm.”

Steadying yourself with your hands planted firmly on Mattheo’s chest, you gave your hips one final grind as you felt him pull himself all the way out and slam himself back in. Without shame or remorse, you loudly cried out his name which was enough for Mattheo to spill himself inside of you. Your last moans and cries fill the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing. Mattheo finished with a grunt, his voice rough and primal. You pushed yourself off of him with a shudder and a shaky breath, barely being able to stumble into the chair that you had pulled up in the first place to treat him.

“You should prescribe me this sort of medicine more often, gods,” Mattheo still looked heavenly while leaned back, flushed with a sweaty post-coital glow. “Do you think Madam Pomfrey will write me a note for a daily dose?”

“A daily dose? You’re presumptuous,” You finally catch your breath while you button back up your dress. The hard reality of your actions rear its ugly head at you as Mattheo grunts in a real pain and you rush to give him the rest of the Wiggenweld tincture.

“What? Do you need a preexisting condition of being exclusive or something? I’m serious,” Mattheo finishes the potion and wraps his hand into yours. You let out a laugh of disbelief. Non-committal was amongst the high praise for the Quidditch player.

“I’m just your Healer, I really shouldn’t have done that…” You shake your head and finally get the balance to stand. You smooth the wrinkles of your dress and weakly smiled at the injured man. “I basically took advantage of you, Mattheo.”

“It wouldn’t be that way if you were mine,” Mattheo sat up and grabbed you with his free hand. He sprung up from the hospital bed, his grip tightening around you like a vice. His eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity as he closed the distance between you, his breath a hot reminder of the events that had just transpired. “I’ll let you think about it. But I amserious about that prescription, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood frozen as Mattheo released you and sauntered out of the room, his confident stride belying the injury that had brought him there in the first place. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and the lingering scent of his cologne. You were so screwed.

Part 2

Divider by @chachachannah

#SURPRISE!#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle quidditch #QuidditchPlayer!MattheoRiddle #mattheo riddle fic #Harry Potter smut #slytherin boys #Healer!Reader #Healer

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shotmrmiller · 4 months ago

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response to this but it got so long and ig im in my throuple era rn

@xoxunhinged i listened to one (1) song on repeat while writing this on the phone

okay yeah wait or just

it's ghost x price first.

Big burly men taking up too much space in the little coffee shop you work at or something and they're there like clockwork too. Every wednesday and friday, 8 am, usually the first clients of the day and all they order is a regular cup of joe. Plain. You offer alternative sweeteners, powdered creamer, but no dice.

Plain black. Like the occasional smudge of eyeliner(?) around the bigger one's eyes.

They're cute, in their own way. John is a blend of rugged charm and seasoned wisdom. The other, Simon, is mysterious. Guarded. Speaks only to his companion.

The pet names start to get to your head. Of course, you reason that John's just not from around here. His calling you sweetheart from across the room to grab your attention must be English.

But logic cannot stop the heat from licking up your cheeks when he does. or when Simon calls you something different altogether eventually.

"Mornin', pet."

It's even more gut-twisting when you catch glimpses of the occasional PDA: A large hand curling around an even bigger jean-clad thigh. Faces so close they could kiss (Waterboarding couldn't get the fact that you've rubbed your thighs together at the thought of them actually kissing out of you) and the fact that Simon's usually sharp gaze softens around the edges, pale gold whispering against the puckered pink of a barely visible scar beneath his face mask.

A couple. They're a couple. It's bittersweet, that feeling settling in your chest. Like dark chocolate coating your tongue. Honeyed nectar of love, the bitter bite of it not being your own.

Maybe it's time to go out with your friends to the bar.

Things take a nasty turn when Simon, out of the both of them, had come in alone and propositioned you on crisp, saturday morning.

Oh, the acid in your stomach felt like it was corroding the walls of your esophagus as it rose. You don't remember much of what you said but it'd been loud, vitriolic. You'd been so furious. Hurt that they had something so sweet, something they could call their own, and here comes this big dumb oaf looking for a piece of warm meat to stick his cock into on the side.

Your manager sent you home for the day.

And home you were headed, well more like the bus stop, stomping away and across the street but the hand that wraps around your arm to keep you in place is John's. (You'd been actually fighting to get away and he hadn't even tightened his grip enough to hurt. embarrassing.)

He clears things up. Tells you to forgive Simon, he's not the most verbose or eloquent with the words he does choose to speak. "He's good at receivin' orders instead of givin' 'em. isn't tha' righ'?"

The "yes, sir" that comes out of Simon is immediate. Obedient. Submissive. (gagging, i actually slammed the desk with my fist rn) A man who knows his place because it is etched in stone. Your teeth grind like rusted gears to keep from turning into a pool of liquid in broad daylight.

"What he meant," he roughly clarifies, "is that we would like you to share our bed." your face burns hot enough to sting. "If you want," John continues, limpid blue eyes fixed on your own.

He looks rather handsome in his uncertainty.

They don't even let you go home to wash and clean up when you nod. (Or shave. Simon had very audibly scoffed at your complaint about that. Said something crass about eating lollipops off the carpet)

The dynamic had been exactly what you'd expected it to be in the bedroom. When authority spoke, Simon listened. Intently. Without hesitation. When John ordered Simon— who'd sat with his broad chest curling around your spine, cocooning you in warmth and the faint scent of smoke, mahogany, and leather— to hook his hands behind your knees and pull your legs up to your shoulders, he'd done so in an instant.

The subtle burn of your hamstrings stretching pulled a hiss from your kiss-swollen lips.

"Bit o' pain with pleasure never hurt anyone, eh, sweetheart?" The deepened rumble of John's voice vibrated in your chest and made your toes curl.

Simon's steady breaths are drowned out by your shuddering ones when John puts his mouth on you, the prickle of his facial hair tickling your sensitive, heated skin.

The burning stretch of your muscles is nothing compared to the sweet sting of two fingers sinking into your hot sex. Pleasure wells in the corner of your eyes when he curls and scissors them while his slick tongue swirls your clit languidly.

He sends you over the edge with practiced ease, shaky limbs, and unsteady mewls. The kiss he plants on your still pulsing cunt is tender, as are your now unrestrained legs.

And he slants his lips-- still dripping slick, dewy beads collecting on his beard-- over Simon's whose mask is now long gone, his erection coming to sit heavy on the fatty mound of your pussy. You can feel the heat of his cock even through his clothes.

A saliva strand connecting them two snaps as he pulls away, glancing down to look at you, sweaty and unkempt, glassy eyes shamelessly staring back.

"I'd let Simon get his turn but," hands weave up your shirt and inside your sports bra while John's grab your legs and wrap them around his thick waist, "gotta prep ya first."

(?)

That comes back to mind after your limbs feel like cold syrup, warmth dribbling from your puffy lips and falling onto the damp bedsheets beneath your arse cheeks.

The question answers itself when Simon slots himself between your aching legs, uncut cock fat and hefty.

(dis)Respectfully, you feel thoroughly used and even now, that doesn't look like it's going to go in easy.

"Easy, love," John's voice comes from above you, "He won't hurt ya. Isn't tha' righ', Simon?"

Simon, who's dark eyes hadn't moved from where John's spend still steadily flowed, cut to him instantly. "Yes, sir."

He hums, a low, raspy sound. "How 'bout you tell our bird tha'?"

A rough hand wraps around your neck, thumb pressed on your fluttering pulse. "I won't hurt ya." His grip tightens, and the swoosh of blood roaring in your ears is deafening.

Much.

The world around you fades, senses attuned only to what's currently wrenching your swollen walls apart, going in, in, and in, it feels never-ending, it's so much, too much, until--

Your stomach clenches, it feels like it's folding in on itself, and a sharp feeling radiates below your navel.

Lips kiss your sweaty temple. "That's all there is. Did so well, eh, sweetheart? Took 'im real good, like you were meant for it."

His cock drags along your over-sensitive, raw nerves in a way that has fire licking up your spine as he pulls back. "Easy, Simon. You'll get your fun from me," John assures.

Your cunt clenches unbidden at that, vise-like around Simon who quietly groans.

The first roll of his hips pushes the air from your lungs, the second blanks your jumbled mind, the third has your nails sinking into whoever's forearms are beside your head, and the fourth has you confusing John's glittering eyes with stars.

And then he places your feet flat on his chest, his weight folding you in half, pinning you in place. Nowhere to run.

Your teeth clack when he thrusts firmly, tip of his cock sitting firmly against the plug of your womb.

"Easy does it, love. Jus' be good 'n take it," John mutters into your ear.

As if you had any choice.

After, when you're completely spent, they tell you to lay back, head propped up by a mountain of pillows, but to keep your legs open, let them see that pretty pussy, they want to see their cum spill out of you.

You thought the fucking Simon gave you had been rough. What John gives him from behind is attempted murder. He grabs at Simon's hair like it's the scruff of a bellicose dog. Pins him in place with his words, growled, thunderous, then his grip. Simon doesn't bare his crooked teeth once.

When your tired hand slithers down to between your legs, tips of your fingers smearing cum around your swollen flesh, arousal surprisingly panging deep in your core, the sheer force of John's thrusts rocks the bed with enough force to crack the wall and Simon whines like a dog in heat.

#ghost submitting ONLY to price is my roman empire #toss in a very out of the loop reader who's just here to get dicked down but surprise you're the love of their pathetic lives now #there is no escape accept defeat #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #john price x reader x simon ghost riley #cod smut

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uc1wa · 1 year ago

Note

*heavy sigh* possessive frat boy Dick Grayson getting increasingly more deranged about how he lays his claim on you as the semester wears on, finals week breaking point where he loses it on you like you're a stress ball, etc.

even though he'd never cave and make you his gf, nope no sir

tags: fem reader, toxic relationship, yanderish, misogyny, mentions of rough sex, penetrative sex, choking, manipulation, fucked up frat boy dick

dick fucked a different girl every weekend, y'know, before his drunk self stumbled to your door. but who cares about the smell of perfume that's clung to his half-buttoned top? the top that has buttons in places they aren't supposed to be. who cares? because he's still going to come home to you, and you'll be his last fuck of every weekend.

but you? the first load he spilled on your stomach should've said enough, no? dick doesn't just fuck everybody, at least that's what he thinks. you're his and his only.

the first time he smelt another guy's cologne on you, saw a shirt that was surely not yours, a product of your own one-night stand, dick grayson lost his shit. fucked you like you were a sleeve for his cock rather than a person.

"then... are we dating?" the condescending laugh that left dick's lips was your answer. dating? the word made him gag, why would he lock himself down when he was at his prime? are you stupid? do you know who he is?

no, you weren't dating. you were fucking, but you obviously had a problem understanding your place, didn't you?

it started with hickies. an embarrassing amount that no number of necklaces or turtleneck tops could cover in their entirety. hickies that started at your jaw, dark splotches moving down your body. did you want to wear a crop top? dick's taking note to leave one on either side of your hips. where there's skin, there are remnants of the man to whom you belonged.

it wasn't hard to stake his claim on you, but he also knew you were hot. do you think dick grayson, the commodity that he was, would fuck somebody ugly? he's not that low. he has priorities for himself.

hickies weren't enough, though. did you think you were slick when he saw a video of you at another frat house, one outside of his own, grinding on a man who was plenty of social levels below dick? you thought he wouldn't find out that you're even more of a slut than he thought?

rather than a hand wrapped around your throat, he used manipulation to his advantage. with a sickeningly sweet voice, he bought you a necklace with his initials since you needed a tag like a puppy; now you know not to run away, right?

"marking your territory, huh?" his brother, wally laughs when he sees you sporting the chain with a prideful chest, gold falling between your tits. don't look too hard, that's dick's property now!

"had to," dick replies, unfazed. "nothing too serious, though." he reminds his brother from his seat in their shared house. but it's still not enough.

he wants you all to himself and it eats away at him. hickies continuing, sucking your face in public, it's not enough because you're still giving guys attention. 'just friends' his ass.

that's why, overtop of the gold chain, his hand covers your throat and pushes down hard. between hickey-covered thighs, his cock is stuffing you full with painfully slow movements.

"i gotta remind you?" he asks, long past acknowledging the fact that you can't speak from the force his hand holds around your windpipe. "whose cunt is this?" a strangled whine, and dick squeezes harder, a satisfied smile pulling his lips when he finally feels your pussy squeeze around his length.

he doesn't care about words; he cares about your cunt being carved into the shape of his cock. he cares about sculpting you like clay 'till any guy you wanna talk to can only smell dick on you. can only smell the expensive cologne he wears, can only smell the scent of his musk. 'till you're limping to all your finals, and there's not a second thought from your classmates who put you in that state; the infamous "DG" that's still hanging between your tits, that's who!

#this feels kinda rush sowwy #yes maria you freak i will create the worst version of dick grayson EVER #surprise post because bingo maria fills my brain with the WORST SHIT EVER (lovingly)#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader

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sorryimananti-romantic · 1 year ago

Text

Aurora

strategist!yunho x spy!reader

falling in love with the enemy?au

genre and warnings: some fluff, loads of angst, slow burn, suggestive, manipulation, betrayal, lies lies lies, blood and violence warnings, swearing, human lab rats, mentions of self-harm (picking at old scars), lmk if i missed sth.

word count: 26.5k

synopsis: you're finally working at halaland's most prestigious research centre as a skilled cryptographer. reality is, you're a utopian spy trained by the crescents to uncover the suspicious activity in the medical research department. to get there, you must first become a part of jeong yunho's strategy team and win his favour. however, as you both get closer, the presence of secrets burden you both and you know you're up for eventual heartbreak when you fall in love. you dread when he'll learn who you truly are.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (made sure i got my ass working on this and yeah couldn't have done this without her <3)

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you stepped within Halaland, legally, for the first time. One could argue about the legality of your admission into the country but as far as everyone was concerned, you were a Halaland native returning from Mist Island after training.

“The wind is not different. The land is the same. I wonder why we have so many differences?” You wondered out loud and Seonghwa shot you a warning look, making the others in the car squirm.

“No matter how much this place feels like home, remember what you are here for,” Seonghwa looked at all three of you as he said. Everyone nodded in synchrony. “As of this moment… we’re strangers and I’m just the poor Mr. Park who was unfortunate enough to be collecting young female researchers from around the continent. Now… I hope you all remember who you are?”

“Aurora,” you called your new name, the way it rolled off your lips feeling foreign even to you. “For the cryptography team.”

“And the strategy team if you’re lucky,” Seonghwa reminded you of the first step towards your ultimate goal and you gulped, nodding. While he talked to Byeol and Nami, you resorted to watching the apple farm pass by as you drew closer to the Capital.

If someone had asked you a few years ago- before the war with Utopia began- what profession you saw yourself in, you’d say teaching in a breath. Teaching maths. Your original dream, before Halaland announced war on your home and snatched everything from you- family, friends, and dreams.

It was ironic that you were now in the very land you hated to the core, as their researcher. As the notorious Halazia Research Center- home to the most dangerous weapons on the continent- came into view, you couldn’t help but wow at the endless array of towers and buildings that must make up half of the Capital. It looked plain enough for the horrors it had been producing for a decade now. You straightened and put on a practised smile before you stopped at the gate for identification.

Thankfully, none of you held your breath as they went through your tags and got a good look at you. Seonghwa said a few words to the guards and then they let you through, leading the car to the Security Office.

You got off and took a quick glance around at the grey structure and the signs in their native language before greeting the middle-aged man who you very well recognised.

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to finally have you here,” he took off his hat and tipped his head in greeting and the three of you curtsied. “I am Dr. Eric Cho, co-director of Halazia. I hope your journey wasn’t too troublesome- I understand you had to travel through land due to the circumstances…”

“Not at all,” Byeol passed her trademark gummy smile, one that charmed not only men but women as well. “I always wanted to see what Utopia looked like. I have to admit it wasn’t much.”

Dr. Cho seemed to like that attitude and he laughed out loud. “I’m sure it’s got some hidden gems too.”

“We travelled around the border so they probably don’t have much to share about the sights,” Seonghwa dug out cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to the doctor and you watched them light each other’s cigarettes, sharing a moment which made rage simmer in your throat but you tightened your smile- Seonghwa was only acting. “Shall I take them inside?”

Dr. Cho motioned for one of the officers to escort you inside the Security Office and you weren’t surprised by how thoroughly you were all checked- they didn’t spare one inch on your body, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable. When you were done and came outside, Dr. Cho scanned you.

“Are you the one who decrypted our code in the shortest time so far?”

“3 minutes and 28 seconds, Doctor,” you saluted. “Aurora Han at your service.”

“That’s a whole 2 minutes shorter than the previous record-holder,” his eyes twinkled and you passed a proud smile. “Do you know what can happen in 2 minutes?”

“The world can change in 2 seconds.”

“I like her,” Dr. Cho laughed. “Cryptography Department, is it?”

“Keep an eye on her,” Seonghwa nodded. “Puzzles are not the only thing she is good at.”

Before the doctor could ask more, Byeol and Nami were out and the five of you had lunch where the doctor briefed you about the ambitions of this research centre and what they were striving for. It was pretty well rehearsed and felt like something he had narrated multiple times so you just listened to every word and nodded like a schoolgirl. After that, you followed an officer to the Cryptography Department where you filled the paperwork so you could get a pass and start working from tomorrow.

“Shall I ask one of those guys to give you a tour of the department?” The officer asked, looking pretty tired.

“It’s alright, I’ll just find my way to the dorms, I think the fatigue is finally catching up,” you said and he bowed before leaving. You picked up your belongings and exited the office, taking a deep breath.

This was it.

After 3 years of training as a member of Crescent- a group of spies in Utopia that infiltrated into Halaland to find something, anything to win the goddamned war, you were finally here. As you walked along the corridors, peeking into the labs and memorising the path, you couldn’t help but feel both terror and a sense of accomplishment. You weren’t afraid, no. You were terrified of the fact that whatever you did here could turn the tide of the war.

You were looking at the picture of the alumni of the department, recalling their names in your head. You remembered what the Captain- the mastermind behind the Crescents- had said time and time again:

“The easiest way to get wherever you want is to get into your senior’s good graces. The easiest way to get caught, however, comes after that.”

You were staring holes at the picture of the person you wanted to approach first when someone cleared their throat behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

“You seem to know them.”

You turned around with a hand on your heart, greeted by a tall figure in a uniform you very well recognised, the black outfit producing a striking contrast with the gold medals and red details. The Strategy Department.

“Of course I know them,” you managed to say as you took a careful step away. “Who doesn’t?”

He smiled, standing beside you. “Are you the new recruit?”

“I thought that was obvious,” you couldn’t help yourself and he grinned. You stifled a smile- he had quite a friendly face. “Do you work here too?”

“I work… around,” he said and you didn’t probe further. “I’m mostly on the field though. I bring data back. So… Miss?”

“Han. Han Aurora,” you told him and he nodded.

“Aurora,” he tested, a subtle raise of his brow as he scanned you and you licked your suddenly dry lips. “Do you need help finding the dorms? I reckon you’d want to get rid of your bags before you memorise every face on the frames in this hall.”

“Sadly, yes,” you replied. You could return his humour if that was what he wanted. He seemed to be pleased and offered to hold your bags but you insisted you were fine.

“Let me have my gentleman moment, please,” he laughed and you finally handed him your bags.

“I thought you’d have quite a bit of those moments on ‘the field’,” you commented as you walked beside him.

“Not really,” he shook his head. “I’m only a gentleman when I’m not on the field.”

You ooh-ed dramatically at that, making him grin. After walking to the third floor and taking a few turns, you finally arrived outside the rooms.

“Men on the left, women on right,” he pointed. “You could probably choose your own room there. We don’t have many women in this field.”

“Well, I’ll take my bag from here,” you smiled. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Jeong Yunho, from the Strategy Department.”

—-------------------

The lab in the Cryptography Department was going to be your workplace and it was everything you had expected- a bit tense, occasional jokes to lighten the mood, some of them scribbling while the others typing endlessly into the computers. You weren’t surprised by the vibe.

However, you were surprised when Jeong Yunho from yesterday introduced himself as a member of the Cryptography Department.

“He’s everywhere, you’ll get used to it,” Dr. Takashi, your team leader, said dismissively.

“When you’re from the Strategy Department… you need to be everywhere,” Yunho explained with a grin.

“Sounds fun,” you made a face and began setting your things on the desk, glancing around. “So what are your contributions to the Cryptography Department, Mr. Jeong?”

“Call me Yunho,” he smiled. “I’ll admit, not much. It’s you guys who will be cracking all the codes. Meanwhile, you, Miss Aurora, will be reporting to Dr. Takashi there with all your findings at the end of the day, and if you’re good enough, who knows? You might be assigned to my team.”

“He’s just pulling your leg,” Kate, who sat nearest to your desk, rolled around in her chair and looked pointedly at Yunho. “He’s the Strategy Department’s ace. Anyone who comes under his wing either ends up losing it or begging to quit, because once you’re assigned to him? Your life gets harder.”

“Ah, is that why you’re purposely slacking off these days, Kate?” Yunho raised a brow in challenge and Kate pursed her lips guiltily.

You remembered every detail about Jeong Yunho from the files you had read on him. Skilled cryptographer though he was playing humble here, very skilled strategist and you supposed the title of ‘ace’ fit him since his contributions stretched across multiple departments, including the Medical Department- your end goal. You knew in your bones that this man was dangerous and you could not afford a single mistake around him, but the fact that he was so… relaxed? Cheerful? Quite a contrast to the otherwise tense environment in the lab.

It put you off guard, and you did not like it.

“Shall I… try then?” You asked, drawing their attention. “I’ve been told I’m not that bad a strategist.”

“Hmm, my team has grown smaller in number in the past few months,” Yunho considered. “I like that ambition. Dr. Cho had a lot to say about you, so if you prove yourself, I might personally put in a request for you to be on my team.”

“I’m suddenly not sure if I want that,” you laughed nervously and Kate snickered.

“Yunho, you’re scaring the new kid! Get out of here, it’s only her first day, don’t overwhelm her,” Kate practically pushed Yunho out of the cubicle, his laugh ringing in the lab and the others present smiling faintly as he passed by. You frowned a bit- it was only a few hours into your first day but it was already full of surprises.

The rest of the day passed by with you studying the codes that came in for the day- thankfully, Halaland hadn’t cracked Utopia’s code of communication yet. You, of course, knew exactly what it said, being one of the masterminds behind the code creation, however, you knew you were going to be treading on dangerous waters here. You remembered what the Captain had told you-

“It’s harder to pretend that you don’t know anything than to pretend you know something. So when you see our code, how will you blend in? If you don’t provide a meaningful contribution, they’re going to transfer you out of the Capital. That means you’re done for. However, if you crack the code entirely, that means you’ve studied similar codes, which means you might be acting as a spy. So what will you do?”

“Lay low for a while and then plant an idea in someone’s head,” you had replied. “When the person gets closer to cracking the code, I’ll step in and steal the spotlight. They might call me shameless for it but in the end, what will matter is that it would be me who eventually cracked the code.”

It was only a matter of ‘when’ now, and you would thankfully be getting that message through this very code soon, by the Captain himself. Before that, you were going to start putting your plan into action and build your background so that you coming to the solution wouldn’t seem out of the blue.

And that meant you had to trick the entire Cryptography Department. That was easy- they lived in their own heads.

But could you trick Jeong Yunho?

Later in your room, you changed into your nightgown and sat at your desk, peeking out of the window to see Dr. Cho conversing with some strangers. You shut your eyes, recalling the lesson you had learnt every day for the past two years-

“You’re my asset, Aurora,” the Captain said and your eyes widened in surprise- the man rarely ever complimented anyone on their skill, let alone call them their ‘asset’. “You’re everything I needed.”

“And what’s that?”

“An innocent face with a deadly brain and a frozen heart,” he patted your arm, looking down at the scar that ran down from your elbow- an ugly gash that was a sign that you were a survivor. “You’d make my perfect little spy. You’re my ace, Aurora.”

You picked at the scar as you told yourself what you were here for.

Revenge. Plain and simple. Revenge for the people you lost, the home they took from you, the families they broke.

All hail Utopia, you whispered to yourself as you met eyes with Dr. Cho through the window.

—----------------------

You let a few uneventful days pass by before you took your first step- which was to steer your colleagues further away from cracking Utopia’s code of communication by pointing them in a similar but totally opposite direction.

It was simple enough- creating notes from the past few attempts of the Cryptography Department, reading books and books of code and puzzles in your spare time which you would spend either in the lab or in the cafeteria, anywhere where you had eyes. You immersed yourself in codebreaking like your teammates but with your progress, you proved everyday that you were better than the others by a good margin.

It was to the point that even your colleagues like Kate, who had initially cared if you were eating well, stopped caring altogether- you could clearly handle yourself. However, as soon as they stopped, you made sure to slack on eating, to doze off while working or scratch your hair out in frustration when you came upon a dead end. That certainly prompted some of them to ask you to take a break, reminding you that a burdened mind would be no good here.

Yunho visited twice- once with confidential information that only Dr. Takashi had the privilege to hear, and the second time to ‘glance’ around, as he put it.

He fired two people that day.

You were standing by a window and recalling the events of that day when Yunho spotted you and joined.

“What are you looking at?”

“The sky’s clear,” you replied casually.

The sky is clear. No aircrafts. No smoke. No cries of the mourners filling the seemingly permanent darkness of the sky.

“I hope you weren’t too surprised by the events of that day,” he glanced at you and you wondered if he had read your mind. “You should have guessed by now that whenever I visit, I’m actually evaluating.”

“I’m… not exactly surprised, I expected that,” you laughed nervously, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve heard enough about you and your fellows from the Strategy Department. I’m just… wondering why Strategy holds the authority to do that. I thought the Head of Cryptography did that?”

“You’re right,” Yunho nodded. “But your Head of Department is far too busy for such meagre tasks. He lets us handle it. Why do you think we hold that authority?”

You looked at him this time. “Because every second is valuable, and you cannot afford to entertain people who’re not contributing?”

“Something along those lines, but to be exact, we cannot afford the people who waste our resources. We’re few in numbers but we need maximum output. And for that, we need people who do not slack, or who at least try. So my next question is, how much are you trying, Aurora?”

Your heart sank despite all the training you had done before arriving here. “I cannot be the judge of that.”

“Exactly. You said you’re not a bad strategist. I see potential in you, but so far I haven’t seen output, Aurora. So if you at least want to stay in the Cryptography Department, I’ll need to see something significant soon.”

Asshole, you thought. You cleared your throat. “I do have this notion that I'm entertaining. I won’t spill until I’m at least 51 percent sure, but I think it could turn the tide.”

“Is that so?” Yunho raised a curious brow.

“I’m just trying my best… Sir.”

Yunho laughed heartily at your sudden use of title and you almost glared daggers at him though his hearty laugh forced your lips to curve a bit. “I’m not pulling rank on you- that was not my intention. But… you keep working on that, okay? I’d like to hear what you’re thinking, even if you’re 49 percent sure.”

With that, he walked off and you watched his tall figure until he paused and turned, catching you staring at him.

“And Aurora?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Yunho for you,” he smiled, disappearing into the shadows. You found yourself stifling a smile at the man who could be both ice cold and warm as the sun.

Who could either unintentionally push you to success in this mission or destroy you if he learned of your true identity.

—---------------------

It was your first day off since you arrived at the facility, but you weren’t going to waste it roaming around. You had a number of tasks for today and you couldn’t risk getting caught.

You woke up at the crack of dawn and went out for your usual jog but to meet Seonghwa this time and exchange information. A few days ago you hid a letter behind one of the tires of his truck and you were going to get your answer today. You spotted Seonghwa and said hi.

“I hope you’ve adjusted well,” he asked, not daring to glance around. The people here may not have their eyes everywhere but they sure had ears.

“I’m managing,” you said with a short laugh. “Did you just get back?”

“No, I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said and you nodded slowly. “I think I’ll be on the road for a while this time.”

“I see… have a safe journey, and may the fates be with you,” you said- the farewell greeting of Mist Island. “And may you not have a problem with the tires. That one looks flat.”

“Yeah, I called someone to help me out with that,” Seonghwa scratched the back of his neck tiredly.

“Well, I’ll be resuming my jog now.”

“Go along, and good luck with whatever the hell you’re doing here,” Seonghwa laughed lightly. “If I get praised to have found you, I’ll assume you’ve succeeded.”

“Of course, I’ll make you proud,” you saluted sarcastically before going back to your jog and analysing the conversation you just had in your head.

You had talked in code- subtle hints on what to do. Seonghwa was going somewhere far but would be travelling through Utopia- the reason he said he’d be on the road for a while. You had pointed out the flat tire where you had sneaked in a note for him a few days earlier. He had answered your question- you were doing good and now you needed to play the cards right- you needed to proceed with the plan.

So later that day, you went to Dr. Takashi and asked him why everyone in the department was analysing Utopia’s code according to maths and logic, rather than language itself.

Dr. Takashi looked at you in confusion. “What exactly are you implying?”

“I’m saying,” you swallowed, pretending to gather your courage- you knew Dr. Takashi rarely bought anyone's bullshit. “Yes, codes are usually connected to maths. It’s some simple formula, some calculation. But what if Utopia’s code is a play on language itself? Utopian language? What if, for instance, this word-” you pointed at what seemed like a random scribble, “-what if this word is a made-up word from different words, or even languages?”

“I understand what you’re implying, but I’m sure someone has already entertained this possibility before you. What makes this time different?”

“If we can crack even one word…” you began. “We could decipher the entire code. We just need to focus on patterns and repetitions and check the similarities with Utopian vocabulary or other languages.”

Dr. Takashi thought for a moment, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He looked at you for a few moments and then picked up the phone. You raised a brow in confusion, watching him click 2 for the Strategy Department.

“It’s- it’s just a possibility I was wondering we could entertain- are you gonna fire me?”

“Relax,” Dr. Takashi chuckled and then cleared his throat when the line connected. “This is Dr. Takashi from Cryptograph. Could I have someone from Strategy? I think we might have something worth checking out.”

This time your surprise was a bit genuine- you hadn’t expected him to immediately ring the Strategy Department. You prayed Yunho would come- you had met another person from that department and he really wasn’t pleasant to be around.

But when Yunho entered, he had a knowing smile. “I knew it had something to do with the newcomer.”

“You’re quick,” Dr. Takashi commented. “You should hear her out.”

“51 percent sure?” Yunho asked and you nodded, the doctor looking between you two, lost. “Go ahead then. Surprise me.”

You showed your own framework and explained how with an approach that targeted repetitions and patterns in the Utopian language and worked on unjumbling it might work better and resultantly, shorten the workload. You explained that the focus should be on lingual patterns instead of mathematical ones. If you manage to crack some part of the code, you could at least make some sense of the whole message.

“That’s actually not such a bad idea. Why hasn't anyone entertained this possibility yet? It’s not a new approach as far as I know,” Yunho asked.

“A similar approach was suggested by someone a few days earlier, but they weren't sure just how to implement it. Aurora here, however, seems to have built her own code as a set of guidelines. Certainly makes work easier.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘guidelines’...” you faltered but the two weren’t impressed by your lack of confidence.

“You built this code in how many days exactly?” Yunho asked, grabbing the document and checking it out.

“One day. 14 hours, to be exact.”

“And this is new? I haven’t seen something like this before, have you, Dr. Takashi?”

“I don’t think so either,” he peeked at the table. “I think you’re not meant to be here, Aurora.”

“What do you mean?” Your heart skipped a beat.

“I mean you should be creating instead of cracking,” Dr. Takashi was clearly impressed, glancing at Yunho as if to dare him to contradict his statement. Yunho, however, remained quiet until he had finished reading the code.

“I think I’ll have the team split into half- one of them can go with this approach while the other continue with their progress. I’ll have you manage that, Dr. Takashi. As for you, Aurora…” he glanced at you, face void of expressions. “Continue entertaining more possibilities- don’t waste time merging with a team unless you’re sure you’re onto something. And this time, I’ll have your ideas that you’re only about 40 percent sure as well.”

You nodded eagerly and he finally smiled. “Good work there.”

“Thank you,” you smiled and Yunho asked Dr. Takashi if he could have a word. You went back to your seat and watched the two talk in hushed voices, glancing at you. You pretended to get back to work, glad that you were the only one who could hear the thumping of your heart.

You’d done it. You had diverted the attention when they came close to actually cracking Utopia’s code. And you might just have landed a seat in the Strategy Department- you were pretty sure the two were discussing it, though you knew the type of person Jeong Yunho was, he would wait a good while and test you a lot more before ever giving you access to the facility’s perhaps most important department.

—-------------------

You stood outside the Medical Department- the largest building in the entire facility, and you sure felt like an outsider in front of the enormous doors. You showed the guard your permit and identification card and he let you in, handing you a pamphlet with a map and requesting that you follow the directions instead of roaming around.

You ignored that. You came to roam around.

You stood in the hallway, a stretch of white and gold leading to glass doors on either side of you, the one on the left for emergency (ICU) and handling outdoor patients (OPD). Most of the traffic was around there, but-

The Medical Research Department was on your right, a semi-restricted area that you needed to get access to. The one the Captain told you about. Your origin as a spy and your end goal.

The war was going to turn 10 this year. Halaland’s war hadn’t always been with Utopia- in fact, Utopia had once been Halaland’s strongest ally, until some political strife that was unknown even to the most trusted agents of Utopia caused Halaland to ‘unwillingly’ turn their weapons towards Utopia- which happened about 4 years ago.

The Captain had told you that the strife was born due to some disagreement in Medical Research. Utopia and Halaland had worked very closely there, and now it was your job now to see if it was just a coincidence that none of the Utopians made it back alive after being expelled when the two went against each other.

You wondered if the Captain was right. What could be in Medical Research? Drugs? Did they finally discover how to extend their life? Or some unexplainable discovery no one could ever begin to comprehend the notion of?

You waited until someone started going towards the right, following a middle-aged woman through the hallway until she turned towards a lab, leaving you alone in the corridor. You hid the map in your pocket and walked until you reached the sign with the layout of the building- Level 1 being the ground floor which contained labs for testing the official samples, Level 2 being the experimentation labs, and Level 3 being the restricted section. You knew all this from the information the Captain had gathered from ex-employees of this facility.

You also knew you could get access to Level 3- the restricted section- if you become a part of the strategy team. That wasn’t the end, though. Your priority was the basement that they called Level 0. The one that not even the residents of the Medical Department knew of.

The one that, if still in operation, might have something that could lead Utopia to salvation.

You heard someone come and you pretended to be lost, looking at them for help. It was a man about your age. “Looking for someone?”

“I’m wondering if I should give my blood sample here or in the OPD,” you let your voice shake nervously.

“Cryptography Department? You must be here for your monthly exam,” he asked and you nodded. “Well, you’ll have to go to the OPD for that, but if you’re already here, I’ll save you the trip, follow me.”

You thanked him, walking a few steps behind him and he asked if you had received the map or instructions before entering. You told him it was your first month here and the guard was too busy eating snacks to provide help. The man shook his head, telling you this wasn’t the first time someone had strayed here.

After giving your blood sample, you walked back to your department slowly, calculating the outcome of each move you could make from here on. There were a number of paths the Captain had sketched for you, but he had trusted you as long as you reached your goal with minimum damage. But no matter what, you had to win Jeong Yunho’s favour and get yourself in his strategy team if you wanted to get to Level 0.

And maybe it was time you showed Yunho just what you were made of.

You went straight back to your lab and started working on another code-cracking framework you had been building for the last two days. Once you were done, you analysed it with a few samples of Utopia’s code.

If anyone could actually figure it out (which you were sure no one in this lab would) it could break at least half of Utopia’s code language. For days, you had built everything for this exact moment. With your heart skipping beats to the point you had to sit down and shut your eyes for a few seconds, you got up and walked to your colleague Sam.

“Can I have a moment?”

He looked up, pushing his glasses up and his tousled washed-out hair away. “Sure. What’s the matter?”

You took a seat next to him. “You specialise in the structures of codes, right? I was wondering if this framework makes any sense to you- I thought an external opinion would be good because my brain’s a mess right now and I don’t want to dump this away without being sure.”

“Ah, let me see,” Sam started going through the document and you watched him look unimpressed until you pushed at the Utopian code’s samples you had been working on, which was when he detected the pattern and looked at you in surprise.

“Where did you get this?”

“The framework? I built this-”

“No, the samples,” he began, opening his drawer and pausing to check the date on your copy of samples before rushing through his drawers, creating a mess and then asking Kate to get two copies of the samples from all the dates you had already analysed. You pretended to be nervous but you were actually sweating visibly.

“Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah- yeah, everything is okay,” he nodded, his pitch uneven. “I just need to make sure you have the right samples.”

Kate arrived, looking intrigued and you both watched Sam double-checking everything and even calling the linguist in the room. You kept scratching at the skin around your fingernails until Sam finally took off his glasses and looked at you in disbelief.

“I think you’ve done it, Aurora. We’ve never been closer to cracking the entire code.”

You almost cried out in disbelief, looking around to see the rest with genuine smiles on their faces. Sam told you to follow him to Dr. Takashi’s office where the two of you briefed him on your progress and he immediately pulled the codes that had been intercepted today and let you work on it. You decrypted about 25 percent of the code.

“It makes sense,” Dr. Takashi studied it. “Unless we’re all gaslighting ourselves to believe it does. I think we should still get Strategy to see it- if they can get this to the engineers, they might be able to feed this format into their machines, which would make decryption a matter of mere seconds. We could win this war, Aurora, because you sit holed up in a corner with those stupid gummy bears and your codes, do you understand?”

This time, your tears of happiness were real, though not for the reason they thought.

I can win this war.

“I guess it’s a battle of who falls first- Aurora’s teeth or Utopia.”

“That’s a bad joke, Sam,” you rolled your eyes, laughing. “My teeth are perfectly intact. Gummy bears are harmless.”

“Says who?”

You turned to the familiar voice- Yunho, entering and looking just as surprised to see you. “Don’t tell me you called me because someone has cavities.”

You turned to Dr. Takashi- when did he call him? Or did someone else?

“Those gummy bears might have contributed to the decryption. Take a look at this, Yunho, and tell me what you make of it.”

Yunho looked sceptical as he glanced at you before sitting down. You gulped involuntarily as he analysed the document faster than even Dr. Takashi who was supposedly the expert here. He checked the decrypted sample.

“You broke the code?” He glanced at you.

“A bit of it, it seems?”

Yunho stared at you as if he had figured you out, scanning every bit of your face and your body language. When he finally got up, you almost sighed in relief. “I’ll get this to the Department. Aurora, follow me please.”

You gathered up the rest of the documents, arranging them as you followed Yunho who looked even taller in his uniform- perhaps he had just returned from the ‘field’. He turned as if he had felt you staring at him and smiled encouragingly, allowing you to fall in step with him.

“So what’s it about the gummy bears?”

“I may have a severe addiction, Sir.”

Yunho grinned at the way you formally put it. “And that addiction may have contributed to this outcome? If so, I might send a request to the government to send funds for… ‘snacks’.”

“Definitely,” you grinned but it fell when you felt another nervous cramp in your stomach. “Can you please tell me what to expect? I might fall down at this rate, I’m very nervous.”

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Yunho said and your heart lurched at the way he so casually said that. “Well, Strategy is nothing like the Cryptography Department. I’m not saying your bunch is relaxed but everyone is always tense in our department. You’ll see what I mean- just try not to speak unless you’re spoken to, and try to… stick with me.”

You made an impressed face. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later,” Yunho said and you exited the building, the evening sun casting a golden glance and making Yunho’s skin glow beautifully.

“Try not to stare at anyone if you can help it,” Yunho caught you looking and you felt like you could disappear- so much for training to be subtle. Yunho always caught you looking at him and that did nothing but worsen your unnecessary want to keep looking at him.

“I don’t stare at just anyone! What do you take me for,” you almost mumbled. “You stare more than me.”

“That’s because I’m figuring you out.”

“Who says I’m not looking at you for that reason too?” You countered.

Yunho paused, stifling his smile. “Figuring people out is a part of my job, Aurora.”

Sure is.

“Figuring people out is a part of my personality,” you simply said.

“And would you say you have me figured out? With the amount of times I’ve caught you looking at me, I bet you have…”

“Are you…” you laughed. “Trying to flirt or something? And no I haven’t figured you out, you’re a hard nut to crack.”

The sound of Yunho’s laugh warmed your heart. “That wasn’t my intention, I’m just pointing it out!”

“Sure. Your ears are very red, by the way. You might want to do something about it before we enter your department.”

Yunho shook his head in amusement. “You… you’re really something, Aurora. Before we get in there, I’m offering you something- would you like to be a part of my team?”

You raised a brow. “Just like that?”

“I think I have figured you out enough to be able to make that decision,” he got serious. “Honestly, I almost did this a few days ago when you presented that framework. I found that it made things much easier. I think with your current findings… we’ll definitely have something.”

You considered for a moment, trying to figure out what the glint in his eyes meant. Was he actually impressed? Even if he was, which you supposed everyone was at this point, he definitely had some plans for you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to join his team or someone else’s in Strategy, but goodness, was he a breath of fresh air in this land that suffocated you to the core.

“Can I tell you my answer after we’re done for the day?” You asked and he nodded earnestly, motioning for you to follow him.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the department was the noise. There were people freaking out, to put it simply. Messages exchanged across the room, people rushing around with documents in their hands, superiors barking orders- a stark contrast to the comfortable silence of Cryptography. To reel you in from that mess, Yunho put a hand on your back to guide you across the hallway, leading you to the office upstairs.

“We’re meeting the supervisor. She’ll know what to do with you, and she might offer you something better as well. I know I would too, if I was her.”

“Well, that’s certainly relaxing,” you shivered and he grinned. “Let’s get it over with.”

With a knock, Yunho entered and bowed with you following suit. “This is Aurora from the Strategy Department.”

“Ah, the one you can’t shut up about?” The supervisor said- a very elegant middle-aged woman. You turned to Yunho who was yet again blushing from his ears. “I’m Dr. Angela Choi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you said and took a seat.

“What do we have now?” Dr. Choi asked.

Yunho handed you whatever files he had and urged you to go ahead and explain. You straightened and knowing now was the time you needed to impress the Strategy Department, you fell into explaining the background of your approach first, briefing her about whatever progress you had made up until now.

“That’s certainly one way to look at it- more plausible than what we had so far,” Dr. Choi studied your framework. “I like this. Even if it doesn’t work, the approach you’re taking is fresh. Perhaps because you’re young?” She laughed.

“Come on, you’re not too old yourself,” Yunho laughed along and you could sense they were comfortable with each other. “Aurora, she’s… quick. Intelligent.”

“Yes, I think someone like her shouldn’t be hiding in Cryptography,” Dr. Choi seated back, looking relaxed. “Perhaps she should join our department. Maybe with the computer scientists? They’ve been trying endlessly to make their decryption devices more efficient. They just don’t have the right data to feed in. I’ll hand them this data- it could change the course of this war. You understand that, Aurora?”

“I do, but,” you looked around. “I expected this conversation to be more… tense.”

“I understand. I must seem very laid back, huh?” Dr. Choi smiled. “I haven’t sat in my office in ten days. I was occupied at the field, at the heart of all operations. Strategists have to be able to work well under pressure.”

“Not just the strategists…” you sighed. “It’s just very different here than in Mist Island.”

“Ah, yes, Mist Island. They were losing the war, weren’t they, until they joined us?” She asked and you nodded. “Those who have more to lose, they break under the idea itself. We have a lot to lose too, yes, but we’ve been winning this war for years now. It’s only a matter of time until it ends.”

You were genuinely impressed by her confidence, even though it disgusted you to the core how little they cared about the losing side. Dr. Choi continued. “We’ve created a somewhat relaxed and peaceful environment so our cryptographers, engineers, doctors and nurses don’t feel burdened. We give them deadlines, yes, but we, the strategists, take all of their burden. We don’t want anyone else to break under pressure or we’ll lose. So, how well can you handle pressure, Aurora?”

You looked at Yunho whose smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. You wondered why. “I can handle it well, Doctor.”

“Very well. Consider my offer but if you want to stick to your current department, that’s alright too. Mr. Jeong, if you can escort her back?”

“Yes,” he got up and bowed and you followed him outside, navigating out of the hustle until you exited the department and Yunho exhaled like he could finally breathe.

“Care for a drink?”

“You must really want me to join your team,” you smiled and he shook his head in amusement.

“I’m just really thirsty, but I’m also wondering what’s on your mind.”

You accepted and he took you to the cafeteria, taking the window seats. You looked at him. “Halaland must have an ace up their sleeve. I’ve seen what the losing side looks like and this is far from it.”

“Perhaps,” Yunho’s tone was cryptic. “Isn’t it good to be on the winning side?”

“That’s debatable too, but that’s also the reason I’m here,” you told him. No lies there. “What does your team offer?”

“Field work. Assessing the situation and taking steps accordingly. Guiding the cryptographers and the other departments. We make the decisions that could save lives, but our decisions are not always in our favour. And most importantly, in war there’s sacrifice. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”

You nodded, eager. You were so close to your destination now. “I like that, but tell me… do you always scout people like this?”

That took Yunho by surprise and he laughed and you couldn’t help but join. “You’re the first. I’ve never had to practically beg someone to join my team. Usually the higher-ups make that decision for me and I only decide if I want to keep them.”

“You might change your mind later,” you shrugged.

“I won’t know until I work with you though,” he sipped his coffee, scanning you. “So? Do you like Dr. Choi’s offer more?”

“I’ll join your team,” you said and watched how he relaxed a bit. “I don’t want to be holed up with the machines. That’s not my forte.”

“Do you mind me asking… who trained you before you came here?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the face of the Captain flashed behind your eyes. But you had another name to give- another mentor who was just like you, a spy who made his place here. “Dr. Kang who, I believe, is in the Medical Research Department here?”

Yunho raised a brow at that, surprised. “Dr. Kang trained you? He must have trained you for the Strategy Department then. Why begin with Cryptography?”

“He wasn’t sure I could handle it,” you placed your cup on the table. “And he might be right. We’ve all lost something in this war, haven’t we?”

Yunho unconsciously glanced at what was visible of the scar on your arm and you caught that, tugging your sleeve down which took him out of his trance. So he had noticed. He cleared his throat, meeting eyes with you.

“We all have,” his voice was thick with emotion and you could tell he had lost something- or someone important too. “Well, let’s hope you can show Dr. Kang that you can handle more than he thinks.”

“Do you know Dr. Kang personally?” You asked, actually curious. There was no way-

“Kang Yeosang, right?” Yunho was smiling. “He’s an old friend. He got me here.”

Your heart sank. Yunho was Kang Yeosang’s old friend? Was he also a spy then? But… there was no way you could confirm that. And if he was not a spy for Utopia…

That meant he was more dangerous than you had thought.

“Wow… what a coincidence,” you exhaled. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I met Dr. Kang. I hope I can see him soon.”

“He’s quite busy these days. Very hard to run into him now,” Yunho finished his coffee. “But tell you what- next time I have business in Medical Research, you may tag along.”

“Sure.”

“Is there a reason you aren’t mentioning that you have medical experience as well?” Yunho asked and you sighed internally- he really was testing you at every point. You wondered why. “I mean… I looked at your resume before making the decision to offer you a spot in my team. But you haven’t told me anything about your previous experiences at all.”

“Does it matter?” You asked. “Everyone in Mist Island was trained to gain some medical experience. I don’t like to go into the details, but the one who found me insisted it be mentioned.”

“Is there a reason behind that? You don’t have to tell me exactly what, I just want to know if you’re okay with medical field work if we’re required to do so in the future.”

“Yes, there is a reason why I don’t like mentioning it,” you told him. “Dr. Kang knows my history. If you trust him… you can trust me, can’t you?”

The way Yunho did not immediately agree told you he must know something- either about you or his old friend. You cleared your throat. “I’m okay with medical field work. I’m not the best but I can certainly assess the situation and act quickly.”

“That’s good enough,” Yunho grabbed his things from the table and you started getting up as well. “I won’t pressure you to do anything you do not want to, so when I offer you an assignment, you don’t have to worry about me firing you if you do not accept it because you’re uncomfortable. I only fire people who are-”

“A burden, a waste of resources, yes, I know the drill,” you finished for him and he grinned, walking with you outside.

“Well then. Pack your stuff, and I’ll see you tomorrow in Room no. 8 of the Strategy Department. Sleep well, Aurora.”

He was about to go but you grabbed his arm lightly and he paused, turning in surprise. “I haven’t thanked you for your kind offer.”

“Thank me later,” he winked and ran off, making you wonder just how you were supposed to thank him ‘later’.

—----------------------

Yunho was nothing like the person you had come to know in the past month when he was working. If you thought you knew him, you were so wrong.

You weren’t sure what surprised you more- the switch of character or the fact that you misjudged him. Perhaps because it was your first time interacting with someone outside of work first. Perhaps you should have expected it-

No. He was different.

He was a natural leader, you were finding. He was respected and possibly even feared by the fresh recruits- your fellows from Cryptography weren’t wrong about him. He took charge of the room, barked orders, maintained punctuality down to the seconds and wanted results. Quick. And anyone who couldn’t deliver was given an earful in private.

He told you he would cut you some slack only on your first day, like he did with everyone. You were no longer ‘Yunho’ and ‘Aurora’. He was ‘Sir’ and you were ‘Miss Han’ which put a strict distance between you. He did not joke around while working at all. You learned that he was right when he said he had to be on his toes, had to make important decisions and choose what to keep and what to sacrifice.

It had been over a week now- you had shifted your dorms, the current room giving you the view of your former workplace but blocking the sun, which you didn’t mind. It was a bit more luxurious too and gave you better room for optimisation, but you had nothing much here anyway.

The emptier the better.

Yunho was the leader of your team- Team no. 8. He reported to Dr. Choi who reported to the Head of the Department. The decision-making usually fell to the higher-ups and the team leaders, and the working dynamics were good. You wondered if that was the reason Halaland was winning.

You wondered how Utopia was handling things- you missed home. You missed the smell of citrus in the air, back before the smell of smoke and blood became a norm. You missed the constantly cloudy but blue sky before it took on an eternal darkness- you were beginning to hate the sun here.

You missed your family who were no longer here, gone together in the dead of night, leaving you forlorn in this world. You missed the new family you had found among the Crescents- even though they insisted attachment would do you no good, the Captain himself had been like a big brother to you. Perhaps because all of you had bonded over mutual loss that you found yourselves unable to not depend on each other, not find comfort in each other. They were home, no matter where you went after that.

You didn’t realise how long you had been standing at the end of the corridor where the dorms were, at the only window in the building that faced west towards Utopia, scratching at the scar on your arm until you felt gentle fingers lace through your hand and place them softly on the window sill.

Again, you were surprised for many reasons as you looked up at the man who was always there when you least expected him, whose footsteps were so silent yet presence so filling, whose gaze was so warm even when he put distance between you. He stood next to you, his hands right next to yours as he looked outside.

“I’m curious what part of this view exactly is so captivating that you’ve been standing motionless for so long,” he commented, peeking out with an unimpressed face. “All I see is barren land and a boring sky.”

“That’s exactly what I needed,” you said, glad your voice didn’t crack, glancing at what you had done- you never let the scar heal. You were always picking at the long gash somewhere. A reminder, you told yourself, though you didn’t need to hurt yourself to be reminded. It already hurt enough. “I didn’t want to be distracted by a pretty view.”

“Makes sense,” he turned towards you, glancing at the bleeding scar again. “Does that hurt?”

You didn’t expect him to inquire directly about the topic you both had danced around since you met. “Not really.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he tsk-ed. “Do you have a first-aid kit in your room?”

“No?”

“You should have,” he looked disappointed. “I’ll ask someone to give you one. If you’re going to the field, you should definitely have a kit with you at all times.”

“But I’m not… or am I?” You narrowed your eyes and he stifled a smile.

“I thought I’d ask you how your first week had been before offering you to join me,” he put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “Was it too much?”

“Not at all,” you glanced down again- it was starting to sting a little especially with the blood wanting to trail down-

“This won’t do,” Yunho sighed. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just… stop questioning me for once and come with me,” he said and you thought you heard the tiniest bit of frustration in his voice so you followed him to the other end of the hall and realised he might be taking you to the men’s dorm. He unlocked the door to his room and you immediately felt like you were being hugged by him- the clean, almost aquatic scent of whatever product he used filled the room.

It was nice.

Yunho motioned to the couch and you glanced around before taking a seat- it looked as empty as your room, the only sign of living some clothes hanging around or food in the kitchen from where Yunho got his kit and came to sit beside you.

“I can do this-”

“Let me,” he insisted, looking at you for permission and when you nodded, he took your arm and examined it, drawing your sleeve up hesitantly until it was above the elbow. He dipped some cotton in alcohol and cleaned it, the sting drawing your focus and when you winced, Yunho shook his head.

“You should stop picking at your scar if you want to work in the field,” he began, his voice low and thick now that he was so close. “It would be a shame if it got infected. I want my members in top condition, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered and he grinned.

“I told you, it’s just Yunho for you- when we’re not working,” he insisted and you nodded. “You can ask me now. I can see you have questions.”

“What exactly will we be doing?”

“I cannot tell you until we’re on the mission,” he finished cleaning. “But we might have to travel a bit and transfer confidential data.”

“I guess I’ll join? I have nothing better to do.”

“Ay, are you saying your time at the department is a waste?”

“I mean- yeah, I could keep working but this would be better-”

Yunho laughed, wrapping a bandage around your arm and you pouted when you realised he was back to being the goofy senior you had come to know in your duration here. “I know what you mean, you don’t have to explain yourself. You’ll learn a lot from the field but you should know that everything we see, everything we observe is strictly confidential. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do, and that’s why I am working here,” you told him and he liked your answer.

“There,” he tied the bandage. “I don’t want to see you picking at your scar again. If you feel like doing that again… come find me and I’ll distract you, okay?”

“Come find me,” you quoted back with a scoff, surprising him. “When you’re the busiest person I know? I thought you were friendly with me just to get me on your team, and then suddenly there’s this distance between us and you’re ‘Sir’ and I’m ‘Miss Han’ and you keep ordering me around and pushing me-”

You stopped when you saw how he was smiling, head resting on his hand, elbow propped on his leg. “What?”

“Carry on,” he urged. “I’m enjoying this.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, your heart suddenly aching at the sight of him- you were getting really annoyed at the way he made you ramble and had you expecting more when in fact, you should be anywhere but here-

“Just say that you missed me, Aurora.”

“As if,” you scoffed. “Thank you for the help. I’m going,” you said and got up but he grabbed your wrist, making you sit right back and you gaped at him as he failed to hold his smile, the smile that changed his entire face and made his eyes curve-

“Well, I definitely missed this,” he said but his eyes changed as he locked them with yours. “You can find me anytime you want. If it’s too much, if anything’s bothering you, you can find me, okay? I won’t let you down.”

You raised a brow. “Do you offer this to everyone?”

“Maybe? Some of it?” He wondered out loud, indicating he might not have offered this to anyone at all, for that matter. “My point is… I know we all have scars, Aurora. Not all are physical. The physical scars? They hurt more here, don’t they?” He pointed at his heart. “You’re… a part of my team now. I want your wits gathered. I want you relaxed because you’ve seen how tense the rest of my team is. I think I can depend on you if you can depend on me- and when we go on this mission, I’d be glad if I’m right about this.”

“Just say that you missed me too,” you laughed and he joined, realising he was still holding your wrist, letting it go gently. “Okay. I’ll try to find you next time.”

“Good,” he nodded, satisfied. “...good.”

You realised he was spacing out as his eyes travelled all across your face. You stared right back- at his kind eyes, at his incredibly charming face, at the way his hair fell on his forehead and when his eyes met yours, he held your stare for a moment too long before clearing his throat.

“Well, I’ll brief you tomorrow about the mission so you still have time if you want to change your mind. Think it over tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you finally got up, straightening your clothes. “Thank you… for everything.”

Yunho smiled at that and you left for your room, staring at the bandage until you fell asleep.

—---------------------

It was two days later that you found yourself on the road with Yunho, travelling in a military car escorted by soldiers. You two were the only ones facing each other in the backseats but Yunho was currently busy going through some documents and you recalled the conversation you just had with him in the office.

Your colleague Hani, who had field experience, had briefed you about the clauses in your contract- what to do in case you found yourself in a compromising situation or if your life was being threatened in exchange for information. You had a strict non-disclosure agreement already signed, but this was a fresh reminder that anything could go wrong.

And that your life had little to no value so you shouldn’t bother saving yourself by exchanging information. It was like this everywhere, but since it was the enemy you were now working for, you hated the idea of even getting a scratch for them, though the Captain had told you that you would be put in such a situation eventually. Today, you were going to play your part in a rehearsed skit. And today was all about your acting skills.

You touched the locket around your neck that Yunho had given you before leaving. He caught you tugging at it and you put it inside your uniform- all black with red details like Yunho’s. He cleared his throat. “Nervous?”

“A bit, but I’m fine,” you admitted. He was probably inquiring because the locket was your death sentence- a cyanide pill you could use only if all else failed. You recalled the moment when he had secured it around your neck himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’ll pray you never have to resort to a situation where you have to use this,” Yunho’s voice was firm. “If you’re in pain, you live through it. Think about your family, your friends, or whoever you’re fighting for. You make it back alive no matter how hard it is, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But,” and this time, his voice was steel and gaze so harsh that you wondered if this was the same person who told you he could ask the government to provide funds for your gummy bear addiction. “If you think of betraying your team and someone loses their life because of you? I’d rather you have eaten the pill.”

Your heart sank dangerously and you recalled when the Captain had held you just like this and told you what fate you would meet if you ever betrayed them. You nodded firmly, once. “Of course.”

Immediately, his gaze softened and he patted your arm as he let go. “I know how hard it is to make a decision, especially when they have something on you. But the enemy, no matter how appealing their offer is, you do not give in, okay? If the pain really is too much to handle… I wish you’d live through it instead of opting for this solution.”

“I understand,” you nodded, pursing your lips. “I really do.”

Now, in the car with Yunho who scanned your face as if trying to figure out just what was going through your head, you decided to ask him. “What if we lose each other in the middle of the mission?”

“Glad you asked,” he sighed. “I’ll show you the points where we can gather as soon as we’re entering the town.

And when you did, he sat next to you, pointing at 5 random points that were chosen for today’s mission. He told you their strategy was to always have new points to gather at during every mission so nobody could snitch on them. When you finally reached Sector 1, Yunho made sure your bulletproof vest was secured under your uniform and you had no bugs on you- ‘protocol’, he called it, though you made sure he saw you scowl. You stopped at an old hospital that was now abandoned and got off, the harsh sun making you flinch and immediately wear your shades.

“This hospital used to be the heart of this town, before a bomb struck here,” Yunho told you and you nodded- you recalled that. It was a few years ago when Neverland managed to strike here and you always wondered how someone could be heartless enough to target a hospital.

It made sense later- Neverland, now Utopia’s ally but earlier the enemy, probably also got a whiff of whatever the hell was going on with Halaland’s Medical Research Departments. Innocent lives were lost but you hoped at least something had come out of it.

“I always wondered why anyone would target hospitals,” Yunho said out loud as if he had read your mind.

You cleared your throat. “Halaland targeted hospitals first. I hope you haven’t forgotten your history… Sir.”

Yunho glanced at you, eyes unreadable behind the shades. “Of course I remember. That’s why I said ‘anyone’. What do you think? Why would someone target the hospitals?”

A test, perhaps. You pretended to think. “Doctors… They’re the backbone of any war, and perhaps the most precious asset especially in war.”

Yunho nodded, satisfied. “It’s a low move. I don’t support that, but like I said, sometimes when you strategise, sacrifices must be made.”

“And what came out of sacrificing doctors?”

“That’s not for just anyone to know,” Yunho pointed to the backdoor and you followed him.

“So am I ‘just anyone’?”

“As am I,” he sighed. “I’ve only heard something did come out of it, and something valuable was lost when this hospital was targeted. Pretty sure they weren’t talking about the doctors or the patients.”

You wondered if he really did not know or was pretending. You spotted a shadow behind the door and Yunho confirmed it was the man you were supposed to meet. He led you inside and the man met both your eyes before handing Yunho an envelope- the contents inside you referred to as ‘the key’. He turned to you and you handed him your key. With a nod, you parted ways and exited the hospital.

“That’s about it,” Yunho exhaled in relief. “A simple exchange of information. No words spoken. The information is not for our eyes nor can we interpret it. We’re only couriers.”

“So was that man a spy then?” You asked. “Do you receive information from other lands?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Yunho admitted and you believed him. “But I reckon he must be. You wouldn’t make such a fuss for a local.”

You started driving back, pretending to be relieved that the mission was over when in fact, you were counting the minutes.

And then it happened- you heard the sound of a gunshot and you flinched even when you saw it coming. The soldier escorting you spoke in the radio to make sure everything was clear, but-

“We have a tail, Sir- 2 SUVs. We’re waiting for your orders.”

You looked at Yunho who dared to peek outside before calling in his radio, “Turn west. We’re taking Route no. 3. Provide cover-”

Another gunshot and this time you had to cover your ears and crouch down out of instinct as the windshield shattered. Yunho’s eyes were wide with horror as he took in the sight of the shot driver, the soldier frantically trying to steer the car while putting one hand on the wound on the driver’s chest. You straightened and looked at Yunho.

“I can either drive or provide medical attention- or fight back. What do you want me to do, Sir?”

“How good is your aim?”

You let the faintest hint of a smirk grow on your lips. “Good enough, Sir.”

With that, you dragged the driver’s body to the backseat with the soldier’s help who immediately put pressure on the wound and checked the pulse. Yunho crawled to the driving seat and you borrowed the soldier’s rifle and examined the situation- one of your escort cars was down and you only had one at your front and on your right now.

So you waited until you sighted the tail- a black SUV. You aimed for the tires and shot once, twice, hitting the mark on your second shot which gave the escort car behind you a chance to shoot at the passengers. You broke the rest of the windshield with the butt of your rifle to clear your view, surprising Yunho, and sat on the frame to take another shot, managing to break their windshield this time. They fell back and the escort cars provided cover. The soldier honked and the three of your cars picked speed, the one behind you shooting aggressively. It seemed to have worked and you lost your tail, managing to follow the designated route.

You slid back to your seat, turning to check if you could assist in any way but it was too late- the soldier looked grim as he met eyes with you.

“He was gone within a minute.”

You bit your lips, wondering if you could have saved him had you not been selfish and hesitant about practising medical attention on people anymore. You glanced at Yunho who was clenching his jaw. With a sigh, you rested on the seat as you calmed yourself down from the adrenaline and braced yourself for whatever was about to happen next.

The drive was pretty much silent until you reached the Research Centre, a medical team ready to take the people who lost their lives in the mission. You learned that two other soldiers had died. After paying your respects, you escorted Yunho to your department where the supervisor, Dr. Choi was waiting.

“I heard it went well,” she said and you raised a brow, glancing at Yunho who appeared tense.

“We lost three soldiers today.”

“But you have the key?” She asked, referring to what you had received from the supposed-spy.

Yunho didn’t say anything, just handed the key to the doctor and she didn’t open it. She looked at you. “Report.”

You swallowed. “We had no tail until after we left the hospital. About 800 metres on Route no.1, we received the tip from Escort Car no. 3 about the tail. As soon as Mr. Jeong ordered us to embark on Route no. 3, our driver was shot and we had to improvise. The soldier with us went on to provide medical attention to him while Mr. Jeong drove and I attacked. I managed to puncture their tire and shoot through their windshield which Escort Car no. 2 informed us, helped eliminate one of the 5 passengers in the black SUV without a plate. That’s when we lost them and continued our return.”

“I see. Anything you’d like to add to that, Mr. Jeong?”

“I’ll let you make the conclusion,” Yunho answered, looking like he could kill her. “I don’t know if it’s my position to say this but maybe you should take a look at who’s friend and who’s foe again. No one other than me knew our meeting point. Me and the person we were meeting.”

Dr. Choi shifted in her seat, looking amused. “You’re telling me that I should look into that person and you?”

Yunho shrugged. “I think you know exactly what I meant.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek as you looked back and forth between them. They were practically having a stare down and Dr. Choi finally nodded slowly. Yunho said he would take his leave now, leaving you alone with the supervisor who simply smiled.

“He gets like this when a mission doesn’t go smoothly.”

“I see,” you nodded slowly. So it had happened before. “Anything I should do, Dr. Choi?”

“Let’s see,” Dr. Choi opened the envelope and skimmed through the contents. “Not for now, no. You can take the rest of the day off. You did well.”

—-----------------------

Though your mission today had gone exactly the way you had wanted to- a successful exchange of information followed by an attack, staged by the Crescents just so you could prove you were indeed someone who could be trusted- a test, you realised now, from the Crescents as well- you still felt unsatisfied for a number of reasons.

Firstly, you had not expected the driver of your own car to get shot. You could very well have been hurt as well. You still felt guilty about not caring enough to provide medical assistance- the soldier, you were sure, only knew the basics. You could have saved him. You felt partially responsible for that loss.

You were also worried about just who in Crescents lost their lives in the mission today. You prayed it was no one you knew, but the thought that they were risking their lives like this upset you even when you had seen them go to more dangerous missions and not return. Now that you were a part of this, it stung more.

And then there was Yunho. His reaction to the dead soldier didn’t surprise you- you knew now that he was a compassionate soul no matter how stern and cold he might seem at times. But it was his behaviour with Dr. Choi that surprised you more- was it her nonchalance towards the lives lost that put him off or was it something else?

You had roamed around after getting the day off when it was already almost time for dinner. You met your teammates from Cryptography and checked their progress and they had a good laugh over how far you had come and if you’d last any longer. However, when you headed to your room, you spotted Yunho standing by the window you had met a few days earlier. Your heart tugged at the sight and you considered ignoring him and heading to your room but you wanted to know what was going through his mind right now.

You wanted to figure him out so bad that it was driving you a little crazy, and that was not good. Not in this field.

Cautiously, you walked to him and though he sensed you coming, he didn’t move until you stood next to him, hands on the sill right beside his, so near they could touch. You looked at the view.

“Not a very captivating view, is it?”

A trace of a smile danced on his lips though he maintained his composure. You stifled a sigh and dared to look at him- he looked so very tired and you wondered if he was exhausted due to the events of today or just tired of wearing his mask. Whatever it was, this was the first time you saw such emotions in his eyes.

“I know you offered to me that I could come find you whenever I felt like picking at my scar again,” you began, ignoring your subconscious that sounded a lot like the Captain cursing at you. “I thought I’d offer you the same. I should have offered it that day, but…”

“Thank you, Miss Han, but-”

“That’s Aurora for you-”

“-I’m not picking at my scars-”

“Scars of the heart,” you reminded him before he could tell you to bug off. He looked at you, hair a mess and over his eyes, still in his uniform with quite a few buttons undone and wondering just what your deal was. You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Have you had dinner yet?”

When he didn’t respond, you tsk-ed. “Do you want to have some ramen? I’ve heard I make killer ramen.”

Yunho finally gave in and scoffed, urging you to lead the way, following you to your room and you almost shut the door behind you when you realised he was still waiting outside.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I thought you were going to take the ramen or whatever to the dining hall?”

“Just… come in. I have better snacks,” you told him.

He shook his head. “Of course you do.”

You asked him to make himself comfortable while you went into the kitchen and started cooking. Yunho took that as a sign to roam around in your space- empty walls just like his, the only sign of life the clothes on one chair-

And the unholy amount of the unhealthiest snacks he had ever seen lining the kitchen shelves. He sat on the two-seater table next to the kitchen, watching you cook. “Do you even eat normal food?”

You glared at him, not bothering to respond, focusing on the ramen while he rested his chin on his hand as he watched you until you settled down, scooping some ramen for him and cracking open two beers. You clicked your drinks and ate in silence. He was probably still sorting his thoughts, you reckoned.

It wasn’t until he was finished, drinking his second can of beer that he finally exhaled deeply. You didn’t push, just relaxed back as you swirled your can lazily.

“Thank you for the meal, Aurora. It’s very kind of you.”

“You sound way too formal, Yunho,” you sighed.

“And you sound like me, I’m realising,” he put his head in his hands as he laughed a little. “I must have sounded like this that day, huh?”

“Now you know,” you teased.

He sighed again. “I don’t know what went wrong today. It’s happened before and I’m not even surprised,” he admitted and you nodded. “I’m just… I should have known that no one would give two shits about the lives lost today. All they care about is getting their hands on whatever information can cause the most destruction.”

“‘In war there is sacrifice’,” you quoted him and he lifted his head to look at you.

“I know. But I’m human too.”

“I understand,” you said and he wasn’t surprised at your grim tone.

There were a few moments of silence as you both sorted your thoughts out. “It’s not your fault, about the driver. You couldn’t have saved him even if you wanted to- not with that wound.”

You looked at him- how could he know just what you were feeling when he himself was a mess?

“Neither was it your fault about the events of today,” you countered. “We’re simply couriers. It’s the higher-ups who gave us the orders, knowing the risks. They should feel responsible about the loss.”

“They never do,” Yunho clenched his eyes shut as if a memory pained him. You let him have a moment and he opened his eyes, locking them with yours.

“Listen, Aurora. What happened today should not have happened, but this was your first mission. I’m proud of how you handled it.”

Your heart sank in guilt but you nodded. “Thank you.”

“I do want to keep you as my teammate, but… it’s only getting uglier as the days pass. The higher-ups have stopped caring about the lives lost as long as they get what they want. If you do not want to do this at any point, you let me know, okay? I don’t want to take you to a mission and risk losing you because you didn’t have a clear head.”

“Why can’t you do the same?” You dared to ask and he looked confused. “You could stop going to these missions too. Clearly this has happened before, and you look distraught. You could hang back too, Yunho-”

“I can’t-”

“I’m sure there are other teams that could go-”

“I really can’t,” Yunho locked eyes with you and you paused.

He can’t?

“Why?” You asked and when he remained silent, you knew then.

You knew that he was bound. Just like you, or maybe worse. You were bound to the Crescents and even though they had good intentions, they had promised you hell if you backed off anytime during your stay here. But what was holding Yunho back?

“Then don’t bury it in,” you countered. “I don’t want to go on another mission with you if you don't have a clear head.”

“Look at you ordering me around, Aurora.”

You matched his glare and he ended up looking down, his smile widening. You shared a chuckle as well. “I’m just looking out for myself, Sir.”

“There you go,” he scoffed in amusement. You stared at him for a few moments before you got up and started clearing the table, coming back to pick the cans but Yunho caught your wrist, folding your sleeve up to examine your scar that was still healing from all the scratching you had done before Yunho had bandaged it for you two days ago.

“This better be healed by the end of the week,” he muttered, tracing the skin near the scar from the elbow all the way down.

“This will heal on its own,” you said. “But how do we heal the scars of our heart, Yunho?”

“I wouldn’t know that,” he barely whispered and it was the most broken you had heard him, or anyone, sound. Your heart ached deeply and with your free, now trembling hand, you touched the side of his face lightly as if to tell him that you didn’t either. That you understood it all too well. He kept staring up at you, his grip on your wrist loosening and you brought that hand up as well as you held his face, taking your time as you caressed the strands of his hair away from his face. You were positive your loud heart could be heard for miles but you didn’t care, not at that moment.

When you were done shifting some of his hair away from his forehead, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, the first time you had kissed someone in years, the first kiss of affection after the tragic event that took your family’s life. Yunho sighed deeply and when you drew back, you rested your forehead on the top of his head for a moment.

“I know something is eating you up and making you do things you do not want to, but,” you drew back, locking eyes with him. “I want you to know that I’m with you, beside you, wherever you go from here. You’re not alone, Yunho. Don’t lose yourself. You can get through this and I’m here for you whenever you need me, understand?”

There was wonder in his eyes. Wonder and an incredible sadness. He nodded slowly and you smiled slightly, patting his cheek before turning away and picking the cans up, going to throw them in the trash can. Yunho got up, straightening his clothes.

“I- I should get back now.”

You raised a brow at the stutter and noticed his flushed cheeks and ears. “Sure. See you tomorrow.”

Yunho nodded, unmoving for a good few moments before he awkwardly turned to go and almost reached the door when he turned again.

“I might be asking too much but can I have a pack of your gummy bears? I feel like I’ll need them tonight.”

The laugh that left you came from somewhere so deeply buried that even Yunho couldn’t help but join, smiling widely at the sound that filled the room. You nodded and brought him a packet, still recovering.

“You can stop now, you know,” he said, embarrassed.

“I just,” you sighed, chuckling again. “It was so out of the blue, it caught me off guard. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry, Aurora,” he countered and you laughed a bit harder, putting a hand over your mouth as you waved at him to leave already. He thanked you before leaving, saying he wouldn’t want a madman on his team and you went to your room, your laugh fading with each passing moment until it turned into an unknown feeling so overwhelming that you sat down on the floor, burying your head between your arms and crying silent tears.

—-----------------------

Something between you and Yunho had shifted ever since that night.

You were still Mr. Jeong and Miss Han during work hours, and he was still the same strict boss of your team, however, he had a hint of affection in his eyes whenever he looked at you. Maybe it was from the shared experience from that mission. Maybe it was the way you now knew you had secrets that you kept from each other, only allowing the other to know there was, in fact, something. Maybe it was something about that night when you shared a moment of vulnerability.

You didn’t know what exactly it was, but it was messing you up and that was not good. You remind yourself every night that you are a Crescent. You answer to the Captain. You’re on a mission, and your goal is to uncover what’s going on in the Medical Research Department through any means necessary.

Involving yourself with Yunho is only a risk, and yet… you couldn’t help but be selfish. You could justify it as a means to get to Medical Research as much as you wanted, but you knew deep down that there was another factor and you could not dismiss it. It didn’t matter, you supposed, as long as nothing was done about it, but Yunho’s words rang in your ears:

“But I’m human too.”

Those words tangled around you like a spider’s web that you couldn’t shake off. They haunted you at night when you tried to sleep. And they were following you like a shadow right now, on your way to meet Seonghwa in the darkest hour of the night, this time in the Cryptography Department’s cafeteria where you could always come up with the excuse of ‘missing the food’ if someone spotted you.

You sat at the far end of the room, waiting for Seonghwa to come as you opened a pack of gummy bears, already plagued by the memory of Yunho- you seemed to be associating a lot with him these days. Seonghwa entered, silent as a pin and settled across from you.

“I hope you’ve been doing well,” he asked.

“Thriving, really,” you muttered and he raised a brow at that attitude. You cleared your throat.

“All well at home?” You dared to ask.

“Seems so,” he was chewing gum rather loudly. “All well at yours?”

“Seems so.”

“How long till you can get to your goal?”

“If you don’t push some strings, maybe a while,” you thought out loud.

“We don’t have the luxury of time anymore, Aurora.”

You paused. Something had happened. “Then push some strings.”

He glared at you for a few moments before sighing. “Prepare yourself. You’ll be meeting your mentor soon.”

“Got it,” you got up, ready to leave.

“And Aurora?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your distance from the enemy, will you?”

For a moment, you wanted to scratch at his face and ask him who, exactly, was the enemy here. It was the same in Utopia, the same here- the higher-ups not caring for the lives lost as long as they could get something out of it. And what were they doing to contribute to the war other than add more fuel to the flame? You were starting to question who exactly you were working for. Of course, you were ultimately doing this for Utopia, but you wanted to gut the people who sent you here too. Not the Captain, no- he only trained you. The ones who controlled him, and the ones who controlled them.

The Captain- he only dared to question them once, and you remember seeing him at his lowest then when they took away something precious from him. You didn’t know what- you didn’t need to either. You could see it- everyone could. And it was the same here, with Yunho. He was just a puppet in this horrible, horrible game.

“I am,” you practically spat, knowing he must have spotted you hanging around with Yunho casually. “And you remember who the enemy is, will you?”

With that, you left the department, feeling like you were being choked and when you entered your department you paused-

Was someone following you?

You turned but there wasn’t a soul in sight. You didn’t dismiss it as just a feeling though. You could never be too careful around here.

Someone had seen you come from the Cryptography Department, which meant you were being watched. You scoffed to yourself as you went inside your room and resisted the urge to peek out of your window.

No more meetings with Seonghwa. You were on your own now.

—-------------------------

Things were getting tense at the department, to put it simply.

You were starting to wonder if it was simply because of the information you and Yunho had received that day which was somehow important enough to shift the power balance of the war, or if it was because Yunho had dared to question the higher-ups on their lack of regard for the sacrifices in this war.

You were positive it was the latter- especially with the way Yunho was starting to look so weary. Your seniors were also being harsher on your team, going as far as to cut down on your break hours. Yunho kept looking apologetic which made your suspicions stronger. Nothing seemed to cheer him up anymore.

You were staring at him from across the room, ignoring the pile of documents in front of you as you binged on your usual choice of snack, wondering if you should go ahead and ask just what was going on when a knock sounded and Dr. Choi entered, looking grim.

“Prepare for a group mission- we have to retrieve a person now, so make sure you gear up properly- 2 of you on the field while 3 of you stay back and monitor.”

Yunho looked as confused as the rest and when he got up to ask, Dr. Choi raised her hand. “I just got notified moments ago. Apparently they’re not pleased with what happened on your last mission, though I hardly believe that’s the reason. Just… get it over with and then we’ll speak.”

“Not pleased with what happened on our last mission,” Yunho repeated with a scoff. “All we did was follow orders and stick to protocol.”

You could see the slightest hint of pity in the doctor’s eyes before she sighed. “I know. I’m only obeying orders here too. You’ll be briefed on your way there. You have 20 minutes.”

With that, Dr. Choi exited and Yunho met your eyes. You pursed your lips, shrugging. It seemed like you had no choice. Stuffing the unfinished gummy bears in your pocket, you stood and went to him.

“You and me on the field. Who else are we taking?”

Yunho hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather you stick back as the monitor this time.”

You slumped, bored. “You know I can fight, Sir. Come on, make a decision.”

“I-” he hesitated again and your heart ached as he looked down. You wished you could ask him what the matter was. “I don’t want to see any of you get hurt if things go south.”

“Dr. Choi said two on the field, Yunho, in case you were thinking of going alone this time.”

Yunho raised a brow at the way you called his name and how you knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave in, nodding. “Fine, but you only cover me, okay? No offence.”

“Can’t promise, but okay,” you shrugged and he shook his head, getting up and calling Hani, Jongho and Chris- his most skilled. “You remember the drill, right?”

“Definitely,” Jongho grinned and Yunho seemed to relax a bit after seeing his teammates in better spirits than himself. He set the timer and all of you disappeared in the locker room, getting dressed in the uniform with bulletproof vests underneath. You checked your guns and were about to leave when a knock sounded on the door. You opened it expecting Hani but were surprised to see Yunho instead.

“Done?” He asked and you nodded. “Can I come inside?”

Your heart sank and you gave him some space to enter in the relatively tiny room. Yunho wasted no time, digging into his pocket and producing a bunch of bullets and placing them in your palm. “This could get me fired or worse, but I need you to take these in case things don’t look good. Hide them on yourself.”

You raised a brow, counting them- 5. “This isn’t official,” you said and he nodded. “And what makes you think I won’t snitch right now?”

The way Yunho simply smiled- almost smirked- told you that there was a reason he needed you on his team. “You can go ahead and do that if you want to.”

Something unspoken passed between you two as you stared at each other and you finally hid the bullets in your inside pocket, making him roll his eyes in amusement before he left. For extra measure, you stocked more on the daggers before following him outside.

You learned on your way that one of the doctors from Medical Research had gone missing a few days ago and was reported to have been sighted in the west in a cabin near the enemy lines. You suspected it was the Crescents again, and to confirm your suspicions you spotted Seonghwa on your way out who saluted mockingly when he met your eyes. You had not expected it to be this soon after your previous mission and you wondered if something had truly gone wrong this time.

During the half an hour drive after which you were to travel on foot, Hani set up the radios and Jongho and Chris prepared to defend the rest in case they were attacked. This time, there were no escorts, no military cars, no soldiers- nothing that would alert the enemy. After reaching the end of the road, you and Yunho stepped out and Hani checked your equipment once again.

“If I lose your signal, I’ll assume you’re in trouble and wait exactly 2 minutes before I send one of them to inspect,” Hani said and Yunho nodded in approval. “If you lose our signal, you should proceed with the mission and come back when you’re done- if we’re under attack, you’ll know- I’ll fire a signal. In that case…”

“In that case, we’ll abort the mission,” Yunho said and Hani shook her head.

“Dr. Choi specifically asked us to retrieve the doctor at all costs. You do know what they mean by that, don’t you?”

“I don’t care what she said,” Yunho countered. “I don’t think we can make it back if you all are under attack anyway.”

Hani pursed her lips, looking at you for help. “Knock some sense into him, will you, Aurora?”

You shrugged. “If you’re under attack, I can come and help. You, Sir, can carry on with your mission- or we could switch these roles.”

Yunho sighed in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m the one being reminded of protocol.”

Hani grinned. “We all have our times, Yunho. Now get your ass on the field, both of you. I’m starting the clock.”

You whistled at the friendly banter. Yunho checked on his weapons one last time before motioning for you to follow him and you took a moment to run your eyes over the expanse- all dead trees and barren ground. If you squinted, you could see the faint silhouette of the marked border between Utopia and Halaland, with armed officials prowling in the area.

“Aurora?”

Home. So near yet so far away.

“You coming?” Yunho asked and you realised you were still staring in the direction of your homeland. You jogged to him, matching his pace when you fell in step with him, peeking at the map in his hands.

“Are you sure you have a clear head right now, Aurora?” Yunho asked.

“Yeah, sure, I was just… admiring the scenery.”

“Admiring the scenery?” Yunho scoffed, craning his neck to see just what about the scenery was so interesting.

“I was wondering,” you changed the topic. “Why send us to the field to retrieve a doctor? Why not the soldiers?”

“Aren’t we all soldiers, fighting for something?” Yunho mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, they usually don’t send the soldiers so the other departments don’t get a whiff of what’s going on in Medical Research.”

“What exactly is going on there?” You asked, finding Yunho with a strange, knowing expression on his face. You gulped. “I’m assuming you know if they sent you?”

“I don’t know either,” he sighed deeply. “I just know there is something. I’ve heard it could help with winning the war. Only the higher-ups know. I’m nobody.”

“Well… that certainly sounds suspicious, but then again, there’s always some secret in every department, I suppose,” you let out a short laugh and he agreed. “So they’re afraid the doctor might snitch? Will they even let him live if we manage to get him back?”

“That is… a very good question. We might be taking him to death’s door if we retrieve him,” he clicked disappointingly. “But we don’t know anything, so we can’t assume and make these decisions. I think the Strategy Department, us, we’re trusted enough to retrieve him. We have the skills, and who would we snitch to anyway? Pretty sure they’d know if there was a spy among us.”

You shrugged and Yunho pointed in the distance, spotting a couple of cabins bordering the town. “That’s our destination. You ready?”

You nodded and walked in silence the rest of the way. When you reached the first cabin, you were about to go around the structure to inspect when Yunho grabbed your wrist.

“You’re only covering, remember?”

“That’s not how this works-”

“That’s an order,” he insisted, looking slightly amused that only confused you further and you rolled your eyes, snatching your wrist away with a pout that he chuckled at before taking the lead.

With guns out, you went around the first cabin and then inside, finding no signs of life. The second cabin was just as empty and you were inside it now, watching the third from the window when you spotted movement.

“Uh, Sir?” You called and he turned around. “I’m spotting movement in that cabin.”

Yunho urged you to follow him, asking you to go around and stand by the window so the target couldn’t escape- if it was indeed the target. You signalled your team about the cabin. Yunho motioned at you that he was going inside and you provided cover as he unlocked the door-

“No-”

You turned at the strangle of a voice that left Yunho who ran towards the man- the target- who had just swallowed something you were assuming must be a pill, and before you could help them or react, you spotted someone else in the next room and pointed your gun at them.

“Drop your weapons, right now-”

You paused when recognition flashed across the man’s face and your heart sank dangerously. Before you could signal one or the other, the man moved his aim from you to Yunho and prepared to shoot.

Maybe it was instinct or something else that possessed you to take the bullet for Yunho, you mused, as you wondered why the person you had once called friend and had trained with- spared you. Out of familiarity? Out of regard?

Burning pain overwhelmed every other sense in your body as the bullet lodged into your arm and Yunho was quick to shoot at the man, missing by an inch but probably grazing his leg given how he seethed before hiding. You clenched your eyes shut and opened them, forcing the cloud of pain away. “Save the target, I got him-”

“No, you’re hurt-”

“I said, save the target.”

Yunho frowned at your tone and you didn’t give him another option as you loaded your gun and started for the room the man had hid himself in- he was at a dead end- this room had no window or other means of exit. You spotted him standing in the corner, gun aimed at you.

“It’s been years-”

You shot at his leg before he could speak further, earning a howl from him. One glance at Yunho to confirm that you got this, you moved towards the man and pressed the muzzle against his forehead.

“What are you doing here? What did you do to the doctor?”

“I was saving him,” he spat on your boot and you clenched your jaw. “You know that.”

You glanced behind and got closer. “Did the Captain send you?”

The man scoffed. “And what if he did? Why are you here?”

“He got me here, in case you forgot,” you seethed. “And he got you in this mess. Remember that.”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Kill your old-”

You heard the familiar footsteps of Yunho and with your eyes closed shut as if that could undo everything you were about to do, you shot your old friend, his body going limp and falling with a thud against the wall. You finally opened your eyes, bending down to shut his eyes with trembling hands.

The footsteps grew closer and you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You didn’t care at that moment. You turned to him and said, “Call the team, please. I’ll stay here.”

Yunho nodded, giving you space and leaving the room. With glazed eyes, you placed a hand on your old friend’s cheek, noticing a silver glint around his neck and you dug out what was a necklace with his code name carved on it- KB. You smiled at that, recalling when he had showed you the necklace a few years ago, very proud of it. You searched his pockets but found nothing significant so you just slumped next to him, ignoring the pain in your arm until Yunho came again, having alerted the team.

With his dagger, he cut a piece of his shirt and tied it around your arm where you were still bleeding out. You only stared into the distance, your ears ringing with the sound of the gunshots. When he was done, he patted your arm again.

“Come on, they’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you got up and exited the room, noticing the doctor with foam around his mouth. “Cyanide pill?”

“Seems so,” he said. “I’ll tell you the details later, okay? You should get treated first.”

“Just tell me this was not a waste,” you turned to him, lips quivering. “Tell me all of this was not a waste.”

Pain flashed across his eyes but he nodded. “It was not, trust me. I cannot tell you right now,” he glanced behind him at his team approaching them and you understood. “But I have something. And it’s not for the higher-ups to hear. You understand?”

Somehow, the cloud of pain cleared then. You understood. You looked back at the doctor. “Mind if I check something?”

“Go ahead,” he said and you checked his neck for something similar to a chain. Yunho coughed and you looked at him- he patted his pocket in answer. You nodded and proceeded to check the room, taking anything you thought would prove significant while Jongho and Chris packed the bodies and loaded them in the car- protocol. Proof that you were not lying, though you were pretty sure one of them directly answered the higher-ups and it was not Yunho, which meant-

You almost ran outside and looked into the distance, running your eyes across the expanse and it was then you spotted the tiniest movement in the cabin in front of you.

Eyes. They had eyes and ears everywhere. Both the Crescents and Halaland’s own spies. The question though, was…

Just who had watched everything that had just happened?

—------------------------

You had a few scenarios of how you could get into the Medical Department- either infiltrate with your ‘spy skills’ and risk getting caught, or have Seonghwa pull some strings so you could go for something like an ‘inspection’, or the personal favourite- attack.

However, you never thought you’d get access simply because you got shot during a mission.

It was surprising because every department did have their own little emergency room with the basic first aid stuff. It was probably because you had to report, and what place better to report the death of the doctor than the very department he worked in?

“Let her get treated first,” Yunho insisted, “And then we’ll report.”

“We don’t have time to spare, Mr… Jeong, is it?” The middle-aged man with an arrogant look that had to be his staple shrugged. “Besides, it looks like a simple gunshot wound.”

You could feel that Yunho was mentally and physically reaching his limit as he tried to reason with who you recognised was the supervisor of the Medical Research Department- both the restricted and the secret one, the restricted being his cover for the public. You cleared your throat, wanting to get this over with. “I think we can report first- I can hold on for a while-”

“No,” Yunho said with a tone of finality and glared at you first before glaring at the supervisor. “My partner will be treated first and foremost. You, of all people, Dr. Kim, should understand that.”

Dr. Kim groaned before ordering the staff to escort you to the treatment room. You got stitched up after being administered painkillers and you had to stuff a few gummy bears in your mouth for the instant sugar rush or else you were positive you would have fainted. You were just being administered another IV when you heard a very familiar voice.

“I got this from here, thank you.”

You watched the nurses leave and a familiar blonde come closer, checking on your IV. You almost gasped and he stifled his smile as he checked your vitals.

“Not how I expected to see you but oh well,” he whispered and you grinned.

“Not how I planned to get here either,” you said. “It’s so good to see you, Yeosang.”

“Likewise, Aurora,” he smiled before glancing around. “Tell me what happened.”

You briefed him as quickly as you could, handing him the necklace that belonged to KB. He nodded grimly and when you told him about spotting someone who must have been watching you, he nodded in confirmation.

“It’s been a while since Yunho fell out of their good graces. I bet they’re making sure he doesn’t make more mistakes.”

“What did he do?” You asked.

“He tried digging into the secrets of the Research Department after the Utopians were expelled from this centre,” he revealed and you were genuinely impressed and confused. “He had many Utopian friends and some of them disappeared without a trace.”

“Are they messing him up on purpose?” You dared to ask. “First the attack on our previous mission, and now this…”

“That’s not how they mess you up,” Yeosang tsk-ed. “That’s just misfortune. Anyways, your report better match Yunho’s or you’ll be the one who might become their target. And Aurora?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe. Remember your motive. Don’t trust the enemy. And… we don’t have much time. You barely have a week before we sign Utopia for a loss it will never recover from.”

Your heart sank yet again and you nodded furiously, understanding the gravity of the situation now that you heard it from someone who worked in the secret lab himself. He was about to leave when you called him and mouthed ‘stay safe’.

Thankfully, Yunho gave his report in front of your team and all you had to do was follow up with your story, omitting the part where you knew the identity of the man you killed. After signing a few documents, you were allowed to leave and Yunho said he had someone to meet, asking Hani to make sure you go right to your room and rest.

Hani did just that, going as far as to help you take off your clothes so you could wash up while she cooked you some ramen, commenting on the lack of your healthy food choices. You smiled- she was such a mother not just to you but to everyone in your team. She did leave when dinner was ready and you had time to sort your thoughts out, enough time to recall what happened today.

You took a bullet for the enemy.

Could you call Yunho ‘the enemy’? Yunho, the person who cared with all his heart, the person who did serve the enemy, the one who would have taken a bullet for you too just because that is who he was. And Yeosang’s revelations had only confused you further about him- you should have just asked him if Yunho was the enemy.

But perhaps, he was just as confused as you were. Yunho had dared to dig into something so big. What stopped him? You understood that he was brilliant and after losing so many skilled Utopians, they couldn’t afford losing their own. But… what, exactly, made him stop? What did they have over him that was eating him alive because he could do nothing about it? The fact that these unsuccessful missions were simply misfortune (though one was staged) meant that they had something else over Yunho.

What could it be? A secret? Blackmail? Family?

You shut your eyes as you tried recalling his file that you had memorised, just like every other file on the employees of this department-

A knock sounded and you opened your eyes, wondering if your ears were still ringing. But when another knock sounded, this time louder, you got up and hesitantly opened the door-

To reveal Yunho.

“You look like a mess… Sir,” you scanned him- messy hair, buttons undone, uniform torn from where he had cut it earlier for you, smudges of dirt and possibly blood on his exposed skin. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanted to make sure Hani didn’t kill you on her way here,” he scoffed. “Can I… come in?”

You nodded and he stepped in, awkwardly glancing around and you urged him to take a seat. You offered him dinner but he refused and you wondered if you could insist but handed him a chocolate bar instead and he accepted it, asking you just what happened during the mission.

“I found these,” you put your hand under the sofa and extracted a few pages. “Not sure what they mean but they might make sense to you.”

Yunho finished eating and examined the papers. “Medical terms I’m not quite familiar with. What do you reckon they say?”

“I don’t know, all these terms seem foreign to me,” you admitted- it wasn’t the entire truth. “You have someone who could translate it for us?”

“I’ll think about it. Shall I take these then?”

“Go ahead,” you said and he folded them neatly before putting them in his pocket. “Did the doctor say something before he… died?”

Yunho sighed deeply, rubbing his face. “I asked him why he gave up on his life at the sight of me. It’s my uniform- he recognised it. He only said that he did not want to go back and that he would prefer death.”

“‘Prefer death’,” you repeated. “That’s… something must have happened?”

“Yeah, I don’t know anymore,” Yunho slumped back. “I’m not sure I can investigate either.”

“Why?” You dared ask.

Yunho looked at you. “Do you have something to lose, Aurora?” You shook your head and he smiled. “Then you are very lucky.”

“What will you lose?” Your voice was almost a whisper and he looked down.

“Four years ago when we declared war on Utopia,” he began, “I lost a lot of friends. Some moved. Some went missing. When I tried tracing them, I always found myself at the Medical Research Department. I asked myself- why would someone missing be there when they didn’t have any relationship with the Medical Department whatsoever?”

“Oh, goodness,” you sighed and he nodded.

“I still don’t know why exactly- what exactly is going down there. I don’t know who to trust. When they realised I was digging in, they drafted my brother into the army so they could hold that over me. And after the previous mission, they threatened to place him within the enemy lines, where the war and the bloodshed is the thickest. I suppose they’ll do that now.”

“That’s… inhumane,” you breathed. No matter if Yunho was the enemy, that was still inhumane- to hold family against you. “They’re controlling you.”

“They’re controlling everyone here,” Yunho scoffed. “You cannot trust anyone.”

You raised a brow and he looked at you as if having realised just what he said. He locked eyes with you until you asked the inevitable.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know, Aurora,” his voice was low and he shifted towards you. “You clearly have secrets you keep to yourself. I don’t know why I’m here- maybe I’ve doomed myself tonight.”

His eyes were expectant and they tugged at your heart with their warmth and vulnerability and… trust. Trust without knowing who exactly you were.

And you realised how deeply done you were for him when you found yourself saying, “I trust you. With all of my heart.”

Yunho blinked as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stomach in knots, you leaned forward a bit as you locked eyes with him. “I trust your judgement. I trust your motives, and I wish I could share your burden because I do not like to see you like this. I wish I could be your strength… if you’d allow me to. And I have nothing to lose anyway. I could do this for you-”

Perhaps you had signed yourself for your doom, you wondered, as Yunho grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, bringing you in for a kiss so urgent as if you were on stolen time. Stomach in pleasurable knots, you leaned forward into the kiss, running your hands through his hair and pushing them away as you kissed him better, tasting the longing and pain in the way his hands cupped your face so delicately, in the way they later traced the outlines of your body-

And made you hiss in pain when they accidentally touched the bandaged spot on your arm. Yunho immediately drew back with concern on his face and you laughed a little when he examined it.

“I’m okay, just… it took me more by surprise, I guess.”

Yunho licked his lips, eyes falling to yours as he caught his breath. He forced himself to look at you. “You shouldn’t have taken the bullet for me, Aurora. Do you know how much it pains me?”

“I know you would have done the same,” you said and he looked away as if he did not want to believe that. “I’m fine. I know what I was doing.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” you cupped his face this time, caressing it lovingly- you couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. “I would do that for you again,” you pecked his lips. “And again,” you kissed his cheek, trailing your lips up the side to plant another kiss on his temple. “And again,” you joined your forehead with his, his large hands going to hold your waist, making you feel so very safe as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, out of breath. You let him have his moment, caressing his head.

“What are we going to do, Aurora?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you kissed his head and he looked up at you. “I’ll make sure those bastards pay for what they did to you, you hear me? That’s a promise, Yunho. And I keep my promises.”

You sealed that promise with a kiss, so slow and sensual this time that it had you both wanting more. You unbuttoned Yunho’s uniform and tossed it on the floor, leaving him in a half-sleeve fitted shirt- oh, how beautiful he was. You traced his shoulders down to his arms and he snaked his hands up your waist, the sensation of his cold hands over your bare skin making you squirm a little which made him laugh, and then he was pulling you in for another kiss, this time as heated as it could be, tongues colliding and bodies rocking against each other in a rhythm that made you one.

You kissed each other for the longest time, affirmations and promises exchanged and then you lay in his arms, tired. You traced the multiple scars on his bare upper body, limbs tangled and breaths mingling as he fell asleep and you stifled in your tears, because-

Because this was love, in its pure and raw form. It took you so long to get here but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else. You wondered if all that happened was so that you could be right here, in this moment, feeling so complete-

But still, with the guilt of the lies you had said, with the secrets you kept. He was going to find out, and he would hate you, perhaps with all of his heart. But…

You’d keep your promise.

You were going to make Halaland pay for not only what they did to your homeland but what they did to their own. How they broke their own.

You chanted it to yourself along with the beat of Yunho’s heart.

—-------------------

Yunho was right about his brother being drafted to the enemy lines this time. He hated that he was right, but he could do nothing about it-

Or so he thought, because something had indefinitely snapped inside of you. Your hatred for Halaland was not only because of the fact that they took away your home and family, but because they took away the families of the ones who laid their lives for the cause. What for, you wondered? Halaland couldn’t even protect its own. So now, you were hell-bent on doing something about it.

Each day, you pretended to be serving Halaland with utmost sincerity, urging Yunho to put on the same act. He tried his best and you prayed that it would mislead the superiors and whoever was watching. Every other night, you and Yunho gathered in either of your rooms to discuss whatever you found during the day- stealing from the database (Yunho was quite skilled) or picking information spontaneously (your forte). You’d match your findings but-

Whatever was going on in Medical Research was very, very serious if it was kept this confidential. You always found yourselves at a dead end- anyone you could contact was either still an employee or wiped off the map without a trace.

So each night, you held Yunho in your arms and assured him that you would make it right for him. You caressed his face and kissed his head in promise, and each night he would ask you why you were doing this for him, just like he asked you tonight.

“Call me ungrateful but I don’t understand why you’re doing this for me, Aurora,” he was tracing the outlines of your face with one finger while you rested in his lap with a thick bundle of files you had been going through since the evening- the information of all the Utopian employees in the Medical Department. “I’d really like to know what the other reason is. You can’t simply be doing this for me.”

“What do you think it is?” You asked absently, reading the data of the person Yunho had pointed out earlier- Song Mingi. One of his oldest friends here who used to oversee some business in Medical Research before he went missing without a trace. The one, Yunho had told you, who made him embark on this journey.

“I don’t know,” Yunho’s arm was a comfortable weight around you and his lips on the bare skin of your neck were welcome. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“You’re pretty insistent for someone who doesn’t want to find out,” you mumbled, frowning as you read Song’s supervisor’s name- Dr. Kim- the same doctor who took your reports in your previous missions. “Is it strange that every missing person is somehow connected to Dr. Kim of Research?”

Yunho stopped nuzzling into your neck to look at you and think. “He is the supervisor.”

“That file over there,” you pointed at a file on the floor. “It said that Dr. Kim became the supervisor after every Utopian was expelled. A promotion at such a sensitive time is rather strange, don’t you think, given how ‘saddened’ you all must have been having lost a valuable ally in the war.”

Yunho shifted under you, making you face him, limbs still tangled. “You’re saying the feud must have begun due to something that happened in Medical Research, right?”

“It’s a possibility we should consider,” you planted the seed, knowing very well that it was a fact. “The timing of it all is strange. Do you think we can have someone confirm this fact? Or at least give us a hint?”

“I could ask Dr. Kang, but I’m not sure where his loyalty stands now,” he faltered.

“I mean… if they still haven’t erased him off the map, probably with Halaland?” You said and Yunho chuckled.

“Not that part. We’re all answering to someone. I don’t know if he’s answering to the right person.”

“I think we can trust him,” you offered. “When he trained me, he always insisted I put my ‘moral values’ before any order, no matter who it came from. It always stuck with me.”

“I can see that,” Yunho smiled, caressing the nape of your neck. “It’s probably why I’m here too. You don’t give a shit about rules, do you?”

You shrugged and smiled when he looked a little proud. “I could say the same for you. Do you know how dangerous it is to dig into information again? Haven’t you learned anything from the last time you did it?”

“I can’t let you carry this burden alone, can I?” He asked and you pouted because you’ve had this conversation with him just about a dozen times and he always insisted he do the dirty work and risk getting caught even when he was the one who had something to lose now. Yunho pecked at your pouted lips. “I want you to come with me when I meet Dr. Kang. He could be of help, and if he’s not…”

“If he’s not, all you have to do is say the word and he won’t breathe any part of it to anyone else,” you promised, heart dipping with the lie and he chuckled at your confidence before he kissed you.

His kisses, you were finding, could be soft like feathers when he wanted them to be. And right now, that was it. And these moments always put some hesitancy when you tried returning the sentiments because with each night you spent together like this, you were certain you could never bear being apart from him, never bear if he ever looked at you with hatred in his eyes- when he would eventually find out the truth.

Yunho’s hand cupped your face and tilted it, his hold tighter near your neck. You kissed back, but-

“Why do I always feel like something is holding you back when you’re with me, Aurora?”

You bit your lips as you drew away, finding it incredibly hard to open your eyes and face him but you did.

“The only reason I hold back,” you told him, shifting in his lap so you could face him, “is because I am so, so afraid of losing you, Yunho. I’m so afraid that you’ll hate me one day.”

“I could never hate you,” his grip on your waist tightened and you looked down, not wanting him to see how vulnerable you were right now. If he pushed the right button, you would spill everything-

“Look at me, Aurora.”

You did and you couldn’t take the look in his eyes- you physically couldn’t, not when you wanted to tell him so much and risk wasting everything you’d built so far, so you kissed his lips with an urgency that told him to shut up for now and just kiss you back and make you feel good, and oh, did he return the sentiment.

“Don’t look at me like that again if you don’t want me to break,” you whispered in his ear.

“What about me, huh?” He stifled a pleasured groan when you rolled your hips on his lap. “Do you want to watch me break?”

You drew away and smiled and Yunho thought it was the most sadistic smile he had ever seen on anyone and it turned him on so bad. He picked you up effortlessly as he stood, making you scream a little and wrap your arms around his neck so you wouldn’t fall, laughing into his shoulder as he placed you on the table, hands on your thighs spreading them apart so he could fit between them as he looked down at you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said and then he was bringing you flush to his body and kissing you, rolling his hips along yours as you wrapped your legs around him. He wasted no time turning the kiss as heated and frantic as the movements of your body, his hands in your hair and one still on your thigh, thumb playing with the waistband of your shorts. You were lazily running your hands along his upper body and it was driving him crazy-

“Isn’t it about time we take it to bed?” You offered, looking at the clock. “It’s way past your bedtime, Yunho.”

He didn’t miss the suggestive glance and with another sensual kiss where he pulled at your lip, sending butterflies in your stomach, he let his fingers graze dangerously close to the skin between your thighs.

“Not before I have a taste of you right here.”

You shut your eyes in pleasure as warmth coursed through you at those words and you became lost in the bliss as he started trailing his lips down your body.

Taking it to bed could definitely wait.

—-----------------------

It took you both a few days to perfect the plan to meet Dr. Kang, and you were now wondering if Yunho was turning into you as he started setting the stage so the act could play out effortlessly, so that someone would come and tell him to go to Medical Research for some dealings or strategic planning. And you wondered why Yunho hadn’t done it earlier- he was so good at it that you were a little scared and had started to wonder if he wasn’t who he pretended to be.

Yunho laughed when you asked him that during your break when you two were alone in the cafeteria. “I obviously needed a partner, right?”

You shrugged, not buying it. “You’re doing just fine by yourself. I haven’t done anything.”

“You, Aurora, pointed me in the right direction,” he told you and you looked at him. “I’m simply preparing a ride so we can go there.”

And the ride was arranged in the matter of a few days when Dr. Choi herself assigned you and Yunho, the most skilled strategists in the department, to help sketch plans for the future course of the war and Halaland’s stance. Yunho asked Dr. Choi why they were doing the planning in the Medical Department- was it to plan the placement of medical camps? Dr. Choi answered that she believed so, but even she sounded unconvinced. So, together with Yunho, you were finally going to the Medical Research Department officially.

What you hadn’t expected was to be escorted to a storage room at the end of the Medical Research section and to be confronted by the same Dr. Kim who was pretty much in your blacklist now.

“Your seniors swear you’re the smartest of the bunch so I’m going to trust them and have you sign this non-disclosure agreement,” he began, keeping it simple. You and Yunho met eyes in confusion. “I’ll tell you the details after you have signed.”

When Yunho didn’t move, Dr. Kim scoffed. “Your old friend Kang swears you’re the best strategists, both of you, so I took his word for it. Want me to call him?”

“No, I think we’re good,” Yunho said. “I just need to look at the clauses before I sign. Can I have a moment?”

“Sure,” Dr. Kim relaxed back in his seat and Yunho tapped at your arm in question. You nodded- if Yeosang had really been the one who pulled the strings, you weren’t going to complain. In fact, even if he wasn’t, this was your chance to see just what was cooking here. Yunho seemed to understand that and you both read through the terms and signed.

“Very well,” Dr. Kim got up, taking the documents. “You’re being led to Level 0 of Medical Research- the lab only the selected few know about.”

Your heart sank in nervousness- this was it. Dr. Kim led you to the stairs and continued. “We’ve recently made a breakthrough and we think it’s about time that we get some input from the strategists. The war could end within days now, do you understand?”

Yunho looked as surprised as you had expected. Dr. Kim unlocked the door and immediately, you were hit with the stench of strong chemicals and cleaning alcohol. Dr. Kim asked you two to wait while he went inside a lab and you turned to Yunho.

“Listen to me- no matter what you see today, you do not react, understand?” You said, realising fully well that you were risking your identity. “Even if you see a familiar face or something inhumane, you play along and make the decisions they would like to hear. You cannot play the hero right now, okay?”

Yunho looked genuinely confused now but he understood that there was a high chance something immoral was going on here. “I’ll try.”

“You will, for your brother,” you whispered. “And I will too. For you.”

He squeezed your hand in assurance and before he could say anything else, Dr. Kim was back. “Follow me.”

—--------------------------

You two had just gotten back to your room from Level 0 of Medical Research, and you were staring at the walls as you tried to make sense of the horrors you had seen.

You were pretty sure it was as much of a blur to Yunho as it was for you- if you tried replaying it in your head, you recalled going inside and Dr. Kim explaining the background of how they got here, but then he led you inside and showed you-

A human experiment.

A man not much older than you, tied to the bed with steel chains as if he could break them apart. What was more surprising was that Dr. Kim confirmed he very well could. He was in a confined space and you watched through the glass.

“This seems to be our first successful prototype. Since a decade, we have been playing with the idea of a specialised human army- better strength, better skills. Quicker reflexes and better impulses. Utopia was our ally back then, and we usually discussed it as a fantasy until one of our doctors made a breakthrough in his research and created a drug he thought could do something similar.”

“So Utopia is doing the same as us?” You had asked casually, putting a hand on Yunho’s back and caressing once to assure him you were playing along.

“The whole reason Utopia and Halaland fell apart was disagreement on this- they have better morals, I’ll give them that,” Dr. Kim chuckled loudly and Yunho seemed visibly uncomfortable but passed a weak smile. “They changed sides. We continued to test our drugs, but we fell back- most of our skilled doctors had been Utopian. We lost many, hence the slow progress.”

“But now- you seem to have succeeded?” Yunho said.

“We’ve almost finished the testing period with this one,” he motioned at the man who seemed to be sleeping right now, looking very normal. “If the trial is successful, we’ll use the drug for others.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Yunho cleared his throat. “Where or who exactly are the others?”

Everything after that was a blur- Dr. Kim had revealed that there were only a few volunteers for this programme right now but they had a few Utopian employees and soldiers they had detained over the past few years. He had asked for strategic advice and you had set the trap for him- if, in case you lost the mission to expose them and they went ahead with their human army, you wanted them at the western front first- you knew Utopia would have something up their sleeve too- but Utopia would never stoop so low.

Yunho had done his best to play along. You two spent a few hours in that department, even met Dr. Kang who Dr. Kim claimed was one of the researchers for this programme and when you finally got to leave, Yunho followed you to your room.

You turned to him, still not believing what you had seen. “Is this real?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Yunho took a deep breath, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m surprised I didn’t throw up at Dr. Kim’s feet.”

“Glad you didn’t,” you muttered. “What are we going to do, Yunho?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore, Aurora. I now know why my brother is fighting at the enemy lines- so I have no choice but to participate in this… massacre. Massacre of lives is what this is, Aurora. It disgusts me how they’re handling humans there- aren’t they humans themselves?”

“They’re not,” you almost whispered.

“I don’t know how many unfortunate souls have been wasted because the trial failed. That drug is basically a human-control drug. It could cause so much destruction in the war. What’s the point of winning now, though?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I understand now, why the doctor we went to retrieve didn’t want to go back- death is a better option than becoming a human lab rat.”

“Can’t we expose them?” You wondered out loud. “I don’t know- even to the enemy?” You looked at Yunho but the guarded look in his eyes- he had to think of his brother too. “I could do that, Yunho. I have nothing to lose- you can play along while I expose them and end this inhumanity-”

“You won’t do it alone,” Yunho shook his head furiously. “I won’t let you do it alone.”

“You have your brother, Yunho-”

“And you,” he turned to you and you almost cried, overwhelmed. “I can’t risk losing you too.”

“And I can’t risk losing you, either, please,” you joined your hands and rested your forehead against them. “Please let me do it alone.”

“What are you not telling me, Aurora?”

You looked at him, finding a knowing look in his eyes. You shook your head and he sighed. “You still can’t tell me?”

“Not yet,” you finally muttered and he nodded, planting a kiss on your forehead and you let the tears fall, realising this might be the last moment Yunho would look at you with such love.

“Why do you cry, love?”

You only hid your face in his lap and he held you as you cried silent tears, caressing your head through it all. When you stopped, he made you look at him as he wiped your face.

“I don’t know why you don’t believe me, I don’t know what you’ve done or at this point, who you are, but I know you’re not as bad as you make yourself to be,” he had the gentlest smile on his face as he ran a thumb over your lips, locking eyes with you. “And I could never hate you, because you’ve saved me so many times now. You don’t even know how.”

“I’m sorry,” you almost whispered and he shook his head, leaning in to kiss you deeply and you responded eagerly. When he broke back, he joined his forehead with yours.

“No matter where we go from here, I love you, Aurora. That’s the reason why I won’t let you do this alone, and I would hate it if you put yourself in a situation where you get hurt and I lose you forever, do you understand?”

You smiled at that, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him good and tight. “And I love you, Yunho. That is why I’ll still insist that I have to do it alone- because I can’t bear to lose more people.”

“This argument will never end at this rate,” Yunho laughed as he rocked you back and forth. You drew back, pushing his hair away.”

“I know one way it will,” you suggested and he immediately understood, attacking you with an urgent kiss, making you arch into it and soon, he was on top of you on the couch, taking off layer after layer of your clothes, of the mask you wore around him, until you were bare. Until you wished he would call your real name when he kissed every inch of your body and murmured sweet nothings. Until you broke in every way possible, wondering how you could ever recover from this.

You had to do this alone.

—---------------------------

“You’re always alone. And you always will be.”

When the Captain had said those words, you had wanted to tell him he was wrong. Yes, that was the loneliest period of your life, but even then you had a few people who were with you. You had simply nodded and let him believe his words were wrapping around your heart.

However, now that Yunho held Kang Yeosang at gunpoint and looked at you with absolute hatred in his eyes, you couldn’t help but think back to that moment. You could practically feel the Captain’s hands on your shoulders as he whispered it in your ears-

“You’re always alone. And you always will be.”

Before you knew it, you were pointing a gun at Yunho’s head too and Yeosang stopped struggling in his grasp as he looked at you in surprise.

“We don’t have to do this, Yunho,” you said and even though your tone was harsh, your voice still quivered a bit.

“We really don’t, Aurora,” he said, tightening his hold on Yeosang. “I don’t know who you are anymore or why you’re doing this, but I can’t let you take these people.”

Everything had gone horribly wrong tonight. Seonghwa had provided you with the big plan- a distraction that would give you and him enough time to vacate Level 0 with the people trapped in there. Yeosang and Dr. Seo Yuna- a Halaland native who strongly opposed the idea of human experiments- were on duty tonight so all they had to do was sneak you in and show you the emergency exit. It led to a restricted parking area where Seonghwa would be waiting with an ambulance-

An ambulance because the Medical Department would be set on fire tonight. Dr. Kang and Dr. Seo were trained just like the other doctors in Level 0 on the evacuation process in case of an emergency. What the higher-ups wouldn’t expect would be everyone in Level 0 disappearing without a trace. Level 0 and all its data would turn to ashes tonight.

The plan was seamless, however, Yunho’s presence was something you didn’t expect and it caught you off guard when he arrived at the basement. He spotted you transferring his old friend, Song Mingi, on a stretcher and ran towards him, making you freeze momentarily as he examined his state.

“What happened?” Yunho asked you.

“Do you… recognise him?” You were going to play dumb for as long as you could.

“That’s Mingi- my old friend,” he sounded broken as he brushed the hair off Mingi’s face, finding him all ragged and pale. “What are you doing here, Aurora?”

You glanced around- Dr. Kang and Dr. Seo were not present. You turned to Yunho. “You can’t be here- I was assigned to help evacuate the members of Level 0 because of the fire. Nobody assigned you, as far as I know.”

“And who assigned you?” His gaze was hard and you bit your lips, about to make up an answer when you heard footsteps behind you and saw Yeosang appear from the tunnel, look at you both and take out his gun to point at Yunho, who scoffed in disbelief.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave- you cannot be here,” Yeosang drew closer and for the first time, you couldn’t make a quick decision, only glanced back and forth like a confused child.

“Why is my presence such a big problem here?” Yunho straightened, gazing at both of his friends long and hard. “I’m authorised with access here, just like Aurora, am I not?”

Yeosang glanced at you and your reflexes kicked in- you knew that look. He was going to shoot Yunho. When his hand shifted on the trigger, you immediately grabbed a tray and threw it at Yeosang, making Yunho duck as he shot. Yeosang gaped at you and you ran towards him but he pointed his gun at you, making you raise your hands.

“Please, Yeosang, not him,” you begged. “He can help- just listen to me-”

“The Captain only allowed you to save his brother,” he whispered. “He said nothing about Yunho.”

You were about to protest when Yunho pushed you to the side- you didn’t even hear him coming this time. He was on Yeosang in a second, startling him and wrestling him until he was in his grasp and Yunho had him at gunpoint.

And so here you stood, pointing your gun at him. You caught your breath and shut your eyes when the tears started to sting. When you opened them, you spoke. “You have two choices, Yunho. You can either let me go and meet your brother at the same cabin the doctor died that day, or you can kill me right now and lose everything you love.”

“I’ve already lost everything I love,” his voice was strangled and you shook your head in denial.

“You can save your brother,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“Where are you taking them?” He asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” you shook your head, knowing what it would cost you if you told Yunho everything right now- not only your life but Yunho’s as well.

“Is this who you are, Aurora?” Yunho scoffed. “A true Halaland loyal?”

You didn’t respond though his words felt like a stab. “You have 10 seconds to make a decision.”

The sound of those seconds being ticked off echoed within all of you and at the 9th second when you were about to pull the trigger, Yunho let go of Yeosang and you exhaled in relief, but it died down when his eyes met yours, full of betrayal. Hatred. Confusion. And so, so much anger.

“It’s funny, now that I think about it,” Yunho pushed his hair back. “All those times we interacted. Your sole purpose was to use me to get here, wasn’t it?”

This time, the tears did leave your eyes. Yeosang shook his head and asked Yunho to exit the premises and go through the emergency exit unnoticed if he wanted to save his brother. Yunho passed you a sad smile before he left and you sank down to your knees, fisting the ends of your shirt and screaming your heart out. Yeosang patted your back once before muttering that you had already lost precious time.

You helped transport the members in a daze. When you set fire to the lab, you didn’t feel one ounce of regret. You told yourself you would set a similar fire some day and burn your feelings for Yunho as well.

But tonight? Tonight you would let them consume you and drive you mad. Only tonight.

So when you spotted the Captain in an abandoned building that you were going to use until you could go back to Utopia, the cracks of dawn illuminating the ruins, you didn’t bow like you would have. You ran to him instead and hit his chest with your fists repeatedly, crying and screaming, not caring who witnessed the moment. The Captain made no move to stop you, raising a hand to stop Seonghwa instead who was pulling out his gun. He let you have your moment until you were tired and rested your head against his shoulder, crying your heart out.

“Who broke you, Aurora? Who melted that ice-cold heart of yours?”

“I hate you for doing this to me,” you cried and he tsk-ed. “I won’t forgive you.”

“I told you, Aurora,” he held you by your shoulders and you looked at him- hair styled an odd way- half bleached and half natural. It made him look fiercer than ever. “I told you that you will always be alone in this field. It is your weakness that led you here. You can blame me all you want, but it’s on you.”

“Just tell me it’s over,” you said, feeling drained. “Tell me my job is done.”

“It is,” he nodded. “When we go back to Utopia… you’re a free bird if you choose to be.”

You looked beside you at Seonghwa and Yeosang, shaking your head. “I’m going to head inside first then.”

—----------------------

Yunho didn’t know what he was expecting when he broke into the cabin, but his brother laughing with someone else looking unscathed and free just wasn’t it.

He frowned in confusion. “Gunho?”

Gunho gasped audibly before rushing to hug his brother and Yunho almost cried in relief. Gunho looked at him. “You’re finally here!”

“Were you waiting for me?” Yunho scanned him, making sure he was okay.

“Of course I was,” he patted his arm, drawing back. “Wooyoung here was kind enough to get me- he won’t tell me who he is but apparently he holds the authority to discharge me from the army. I’m free now.”

“No way,” Yunho breathed, looking gratefully at Wooyoung who shook his head.

“I was simply doing my job.”

“Who assigned you?” Yunho dared to ask.

“I think you know that already,” Wooyoung winked, getting up and straightening his army uniform. “I’ll be taking my leave now. My last message for you is ‘don’t go back’. Oh, and I have something else-”

Wooyoung dug in his pocket and produced four bullets, placing them in Yunho’s extended palm. Yunho recognised the bullets- the one he’d given Aurora, but-

“There should be one more?”

“She kept one,” Wooyoung smiled knowingly.

Yunho sighed deeply. “Tell me where to find her- or someone who can give me answers.

Wooyoung considered for a moment- he had seen the way Aurora had nearly broken when she begged him to save someone she knew nothing about except the name. And the fact that this person was here and still looked sceptical…

Wooyoung took out a piece of paper and pencil and scribbled an address. “Seven days from now, you can find us here. I don’t know if Aurora will still be there by that time.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho asked.

“We’re going back home, Yunho,” Wooyoung smiled. “The war is ending soon. There will be no victory, simply a treaty.”

“Home?” Yunho couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Wooyoung simply saluted mockingly before exiting the cabin.

—---------------------

The past week, Yunho had replayed every moment since Aurora came into his life. Every single time he had seen her, had interacted with her or heard about her from someone else.

He realised he had been blind. The answer was so painfully obvious- Aurora wasn’t from Halaland at all. He was pretty sure her name wasn’t Aurora as well.

She was a spy, he knew. And now that he thought about it, she hadn’t really done much to hide it- at least not in front of him. From always staring towards the west, not at the setting sun but towards her homeland, to almost cracking Utopia’s code so easily- he wondered if she was the mastermind behind the code. The way she questioned every move Halaland made, the way she put a distance between them-

Every night, he held the four bullets in his hands and wondered why she kept the fifth one. It made him so, so restless.

And every night, Yunho always ended his train of thoughts with the same question every night-

Did she actually love him, or was all of it to get to Medical Research?

Was he simply a rung on the ladder to get to her goal? Or was he not meant to be part of the equation at all, a mistake on her part?

Yunho didn’t realise how long he simply stood in front of the cottage until someone creeped up behind him, patting his back and scaring him a little. It was Seonghwa- yet another surprise.

Just how many people in the Halazia Research Facility were spies? Were they only Utopians or were they from other nations as well?

“I almost killed you because I didn’t recognise you,” Seonghwa lit a cigarette, offering him one but Yunho declined. “So you’re finally here.”

“What do you mean ‘finally here’?” Yunho asked. “Were you expecting me?”

“We placed bets- don’t tell Aurora,” Seonghwa snickered. “Yeosang owes me 10 now.”

She was still here.

“Where is she?” Yunho gulped.

“Not so quick, mate,” Seonghwa scanned him. “You’ve been travelling quite a bit, haven’t you?”

“Have you been spying on me?” Yunho scoffed.

“Weren’t you looking for a place to keep your brother safe?” Seonghwa simply said. “Have you found one?”

“Not yet,” Yunho admitted.

“You could come with us, you know.”

Yunho considered that. “I don’t know who ‘us’ is. I can’t blindly follow you to god knows where.”

“Well then, I guess you should meet the Captain. He specifically asked me to bring you to him if you came. He’s quite interested in seeing the face of the person who broke his dear Aurora’s heart.”

Yunho raised a brow though his heart sank at his admission. “Where is she, Seonghwa?”

“Out on a mission- she’ll be back by dawn,” Seonghwa urged him to follow him inside and took him to a room where Yunho spotted a man with unique hair standing by the fire. Seonghwa knocked on the door and he turned.

“This is Jeong Yunho.”

“This is him?” the man scoffed as he came forward, a cane in his hand that Yunho wasn’t entirely sure was for mobility purposes. Probably a weapon. “I expected something else- I don’t know. I can’t believe this is the face that melted her frozen heart.”

“And who are you?” Yunho countered, watching Seonghwa take his leave. The man motioned for him to take a seat and Yunho did after a moment of hesitation. The man followed, sitting in front of him.

“They call me the Captain around here. Captain of the Crescents- a group of spies who were born for the sole purpose of taking revenge on Halaland after they betrayed us. Betrayed Utopia.”

Yunho let that sink in. “What revenge?”

“I think you know that already,” the Captain sighed. “Honestly, when I learned that Aurora had told you more than you should have known, considering you don’t have an ounce of Utopian blood in you, I was ready to kill both her and you. But, that brat…” he scoffed in amusement. “She got on her knees for you, Jeong. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Yunho looked blank so he continued. “Aurora is one of the best spies I’ve known in my life. I had to break her to make her bend. But you… what did you do? What sweet things did you mutter to turn my strongest spy into such a hopeless mess? All these years of training her into becoming a cold-hearted thinker and assassin, and she melts because apparently you looked, really looked at her with those eyes of yours.”

Yunho looked down, each word hammering a nail in his head. “If she had told me… I would have joined her. I was never in favour of Halaland’s unethical methods, and after I discovered what was really going on…”

“If she told you, you would have exposed her. She understood that, because she would have done the same. You’re only human, after all,” the Captain twirled the cane in his hands. “Why are you here today?”

“To get answers,” Yunho replied.

“You’ve got your answers now, haven’t you? Scoot off, then,” he relaxed back, glaring at Yunho.

“Who are you, really?” Yunho asked. “How come you knew about the Medical Research Department?”

The Captain’s smirk fell and he looked wistfully into the fire. “Because I’m one of the masterminds behind Level 0, and to this day, I regret being a part of it.”

Yunho was positive his heart actually dropped to his feet. “You’re a Utopian?”

“The only Utopian who escaped at the right time before they turned against us and stole our ideas,” the Captain looked at Yunho. “Kim Hongjoong, in flesh and blood.”

“Kim Hongjoong is dead,” Yunho couldn’t believe his ears. “We held a funeral for you.”

“A good cover up by Halaland, I’ll give them that,” he shrugged. “They needed to do that to take over and turn on Utopia- they’ve been on my tail ever since. I wasn’t sure if they had the brains to continue with the experimentation- testing on humans was never my idea either. It’s why I sent Aurora to finish this once and for all. We’ve met with your higher-ups and we’ve agreed to not expose their dirty deeds if they end this nonsensical war. The official end of the war will be announced soon.”

Yunho definitely felt something like a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders at the revelation. “And where are the members of Level 0?”

“The ones who were actually doing the dirty deeds will be secretly tried in court. The ones who were spies, like Yeosang… they’re going home. I understand you had a few friends there? Mingi, for instance? He was my closest junior- he’s in the next room if you wish to see him.”

Yunho nodded, letting all of this digest before he got up. “Thank you for what you did- I’m not sure I quite understand the gravity of it yet- it’s too much to process right now, but… thank you.”

“No need to thank me, I did what I had to,” Hongjoong looked at him, an unspoken agreement shared.

He needed to thank Aurora.

He needed to see Aurora.

Yunho spent the most part of the night with Mingi, catching up and confirming the facts, learning that the ‘lab rats’ were now being treated by the doctors and realising how brutally his people had treated even their own. His heart felt tight in his chest by the time he was done chatting with him and he went outside for some fresh air.

And a few minutes later, spotted two figures walking towards the cottage.

He could recognise you even from your silhouette, and he thought it was crazy that he did. He recognised the exact moment you saw him and paused for a mere fraction of a second before continuing to move like nothing had happened. He knew your mannerisms, he knew you inside out, and yet-

He knew nothing about you.

He didn’t even know your name.

This time when you met eyes, he waved awkwardly at you and you felt your heart sink again. You wanted to scream at him, shout at him, but you were far too tired. Your companion took leave, disappearing inside and you walked slowly but surely to Yunho.

“You’re here.”

Yunho passed a tight-lipped smile, wondering where to begin. He scanned you as you took off your mask and hat, looking-

Fatigued.

“Are you- have you been well?” Yunho asked, hating how he sounded.

You shrugged. “Did you meet your brother?”

“Yes. He’s safe now…” Yunho took a step forward but you backed away and he paused, muttering a ‘sorry’.

“Well, I guess that’s it, then?” You began, looking up and scanning him- you had no idea where he had been the past week but he looked the most weary. “You heard everything, I’m assuming?”

Yunho nodded. “I should have seen it earlier. You didn’t really hide it from me, did you?”

A faintest hint of a smile crawled to your lips. “You don’t always see what’s in front of your eyes, Yunho.”

Yunho’s heart tugged at the way you called his name. “What are we going to do, Aurora?”

You passed a weak smile. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m going back. I cannot spend one day longer in this wicked, wicked land.”

Yunho felt the jab good and well. “I’m sorry for what it took from you.”

“Are you?” You sighed when hurt flashed across his eyes. “I’m not even mad at you, Yunho. I’m just… disappointed in myself. I’m disappointed that my love didn’t seem real enough- that you doubted my intentions so quickly.”

“And wouldn’t you have done the same?” Yunho challenged. “If I turned my back on you? Wouldn’t you have questioned every moment that we shared?”

“Maybe not-”

“You could have told me, Aurora,” Yunho almost yelled in frustration but clenched his eyes shut to reel himself in. “All you had to do was trust me. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me who you were. I keep calling you Aurora but that’s not even your name.”

You felt the very familiar sting in your eyes. “I had people to protect.”

“And so did I,” Yunho’s gaze was hard. “And I had you to protect. I would have laid my life down for you, if only you had allowed me to.”

You turned away, wiping your eyes. “I couldn’t allow that.”

“So we’re even then, aren’t we?” Yunho’s voice was also quivering and you dared to glance at him. “Please… look at me.”

You did and this time when he stepped towards you, you didn’t back away. He put his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them just like he used to. “Tell me your name.”

You passed him a sad smile as you told him your name, buried somewhere so deep inside you, uncalled for years. He said it twice, testing it on his lips. It felt right.

“Y/n,” he smiled widely and you laughed through the tears. “I want to know who that is. I want to learn about you again, if you’ll let me. If you forgive me for doubting you and for being an asshole-”

“No,” you shook your head furiously. “You gave me so much, Yunho, and I returned nothing in comparison. I would have lost myself there if it weren’t for your presence always grounding me, even when we were as good as strangers. I- you gave me love when I thought I’d never find it again, when it had become a foreign concept to me.”

“Do you love me still, y/n?” He asked, his eyes expectant.

“I do, you fool,” you laughed, finally earning the grin you so loved to see. “I hope you don’t hate me.”

“How could I?” Yunho’s hand shook slightly as he cupped your face and you leaned into his touch. His gaze was so strong as he caressed the angles of your face- you were positive your knees were actually turning weak and perhaps they were, that’s why his other hand travelled to your waist to bring you closer. “How could I hate you when you look at me like this? Like you could break me? Like you’d break in my touch too?”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering there and you breathed in the scent of him- the scent that was your home now. Yunho didn’t waste any more time, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that absolutely shattered you the way it was so cautious yet so, so demanding. You brought your arms to wrap around his neck, standing on your tiptoes with your body flush against him as you kissed back, deeper, making him loosen up with every movement until you were simply making out, exchanging all the feelings too deeply buried, all the words unspoken, all the apologies and the promises.

“I missed you so, so much, y/n,” Yunho breathed against your lips when you broke apart for breath, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth that made you dig your nails into his skin. He pecked your lips again. “You have no idea.”

“I do,” you kissed him. “I know all too well.”

Yunho drew apart, tucking your hair behind your ears as he gazed at you lovingly. “Take me with you this time, will you?”

“You want to come with me to Utopia?” You raised a brow.

“I mean… all my friends will be there,” he glanced back at the cottage and you understood who he meant. “Besides… I’m quite sick of Halaland too. Pretty sure they have a wanted poster back in the facility for me.”

You laughed at that. “Basically you want to come with me because you’re dead meat here.”

“I’m dead meat anywhere if I’m not with you-”

“Stop!” You put your hands over your ears, laughing as you ran away because his goofy side was back and he went after you, making you squeal.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stood watching from the window upstairs. Hongjoong tsk-ed. “An absolutely disgusting sight, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Seonghwa clinked his drink with Hongjoong’s and they both cursed under their breaths as they drank-

To love. To victory.

To going back home.

2K notes · View notes

catscidr · 8 months ago

Text

okay so. hybrids am i right? (people clap). but wait. crow hybrid dottore (people clap and cheer). yeah. so anyways ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) time to ramble teehee cw: dottore x afab reader, im rambling, established relationship, light descriptions of gore and mentions of amputation. nsfw!! minors dni!!! (what did u expect from a post about an animal hybrid), possessiveness, mentions of breeding and eggs, aftercare

crow hybrid dottore who has black forearms along with sharp black nails at the end of his slender fingertips, nails that make it almost impossible for him to wear gloves because they’ll just stab through the material (everytime he files them down they come right back somehow).

some small, duvet-like feathers line the black skin of his arm, usually hidden by his coat— though they peek out from underneath the end of his sleeves sometimes. every once in a while you'll find tiny black feathers scattered around his lab when you come visit. he also has some plumage protruding from his face- more specifically the skin of his cheekbones.

crow hybrid dottore who only has one wing (replacing the fluffy mantle he normally has on his left shoulder when wearing his uniform). one wing because, when he got banished from his hometown with torches and pitchforks, his right wing got badly injured.

the trauma on the bones and his back made it so that it could never be restored to its normal shape, the wing looking like a mangled mess at all times. he'd pick out scabs and dried blood constantly, the dull pain driving him crazy- so he eventually just amputated it off himself. moving on

crow hybrid dottore who, whenever you're sitting next to him, tilts his head to the opposite side of you. you'll be keeping him company at his desk while he files reports for the mora he used for his experiments and he'll just... absentmindedly tilt his head away.

the first time it happened you didn't even notice. the second time, you thought it was just a quirky habit of his. the third time you stared at his bare neck as your fingers felt as if they were drawn to the pale skin. a thin, stray lock of hair cascaded down his neck, and you used it as an excuse to touch him. as you brushed away his hair behind his ear, a throaty noise (almost like a purr) reached your ears.

you pulled your hand back with the same speed you would have if you'd just touched a hot stove. dottore, unbothered by your panic, simply tilts his head to expose more of his skin as he absentmindedly scoots closer to you, his thigh brushing along yours. the moment he realized what he was doing he kicked you out of his office out of pure embarrassment

crow hybrid dottore who sings hums to you occasionally; usually happens when you convince him to take a walk outside to get some fresh air. its more likely to happen when its warm and sunny, and even more likely when you're eating together. it'll be just the two of you sharing lunch on your patio, sunbathing, and your ears will pick up on a soft, quiet tune he's humming. just don't tell him when he's doing it- his feathers will ruffle and he'll storm off in a huff and finish eating his food inside.

crow hybrid dottore who seems to be magnetized to the crook of your neck whenever you wake up next to him. always peppering your skin in soft kisses (and sometimes bites), he'll nuzzle into you until you wriggle your way out of his grasp. it's unlikely that you successfully get rid of him though- he rarely shows you affection during the day (unless tolerating your presence counts), so more often than not you'll let him indulge in you.

your neck and shoulders always ends up smothered in hickeys and, though they fade quite quickly since he didn't put much force in his bites, he'll gladly give you more if you want him to.

crow hybrid dottore who sometimes tosses his clothes in the corner of his bed (that he barely even uses) after he's spent time with you. he'd also throw in random things like a spare mask and some of your belongings that he snagged from you without you noticing. he says its because he doesn't want to bother himself with cleaning up, but in reality he's just... building a nest. he hates that he does this in the first place

crow hybrid dottore who loves when you reciprocate his affection. he adores it when you let him brush away the hair on your nape, when you hum just like he does, when you place gentle kisses on the junction where his neck meets his shoulder.

crow hybrid dottore who doesn't waste a single second when you're alone together after that. he'll give you more hickeys on top of your old ones, but this time he'll make sure they last. sharp teeth drawing blood at times when he gets too excited, cock straining against his pants as he ruts against your thigh.

you'll hear him coo sweet nothings in your ear while he manhandles you at his will. usually you end up on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders as he keeps a tight grip on the back of your thighs to keep you from crawling away from his cock.

"fuck, you taste so sweet. i'm going to stuff you full of seed, my clutch- nonono, don't you run away now. i know you want this."

crow hybrid dottore who almost loses his composure the first time he buries himself to the hilt inside of your snug pussy. it feels so tight, so warm around him that he almost doesn't want to pull out. almost.

he'll roll his hips against you, grinding his heavy cock in your gummy walls to get you used to his size. he knows he's a lot to handle- but this is the only semblance of mercy you'll be granted before he sees your body relaxing under him. as soon as he notices your brows lose the tension they held when he first slid inside, he'll jackhammer his cock into you and his full, heavy balls will slap against your ass relentlessly while he rambles about how he'll fill you up. again, again and again.

"take it, take my fucking cock. gods i'll never tire of your moans and whimpers. that's it, let it all out, let me hear how good i'm fucking you."

crow hybrid dottore who drinks in the noises that leave your body because they stroke his ego. he bites your shoulder when he finally cums inside to muffle his own noises, the embarrassing whimpers that threaten to leave his lips. he can't help it, you just feel so good. his hands will leave your thighs and he’ll bring his forearms to cage the sides of your head and his wing will ruffle and twitch behind him, covering your bodies in a display of possessiveness as he empties himself inside your cunt.

he'll keep his cock inside, plugging you full of his warm, sticky cum- refusing to let a single drop go to waste. if you somehow have any energy left and try to get him off of you, he'll glare and thrust into you sharply to briefly knock the wind out of you so you'll stay. he's petty like that

crow hybrid dottore who eventually relents to your whines because you're his number one weakness, and picks you up to go freshen up. he'll put your underwear back on and wipe away the sweat clinging to your skin with a damp rag. he'll soothe the bite marks and small puncture wounds his nails left in your skin with uncharacteristic gentleness, keeping his wing curled around your body to keep you as close as possible.

crow hybrid dottore who brings you back to his messy bed, to his nest, and clings onto you as you fall asleep. he'll brush your hair away from your face and nuzzle into your neck, holding your body close to his as he keeps your body warm while you keep his cum warm inside of you. it's only during the afterglow of a rough session that you get to see the stern harbinger soften up, because deep down all he wants is to keep you safe in his nest to take care of you even if he vehemently denies it

#he's in my mind 24/7 i CANT GET RID OF HIM. get him OUT!!!!!#dont actually do that. i need him there #wrote this on my phone after i woke up (no one is surprised) so dont mind any typos or funky grammar #like. wrote this with my heart fr #and my pu-#i looked up how crows show affection and mate for this #୧ ‧₊˚rambling!#tw hybrids #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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inkykeiji · 10 months ago

Text

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.�� “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too.

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart.

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes).

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives.

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate.

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan.

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible.

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want.

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling.

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want.

Because it always is.

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed.

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed.

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded.

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels.

“Oh, I remember this one!”

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.”

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle.

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.”

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.”

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips.

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…”

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears.

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole.

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock.

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…”

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.”

You can’t always get what you want.

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you.

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny.

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?”

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too.

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please.

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile.

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention.

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.”

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony.

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?”

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.”

No.

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No.

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no!

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do.

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example.

But he can’t.

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth.

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup.

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile.

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want.

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.”

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.”

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.”

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat.

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth.

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!”

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?”

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw.

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.”

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted.

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff.

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest.

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.”

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple.

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity.

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs.

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity.

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.”

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should.

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?”

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little.

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?”

“Well, sometimes I…”

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.”

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot?

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…”

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water.

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?”

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…”

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?”

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does.

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer.

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores.

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick.

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?”

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes.

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear.

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit.

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.”

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific.

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it.

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.”

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint.

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder.

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps.

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—”

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice.

But not him.

No, he knows better now.

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls.

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!”

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.”

“You little bitch!”

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight.

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?”

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower.

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful.

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest.

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching.

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, onii-chan.”

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine.

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.”

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy.

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure.

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good!

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth.

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?”

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan!

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars.

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?”

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.”

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal.

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous.

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!”

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine.

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!”

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix.

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!”

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form.

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?”

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #this ended up being waaaay longer than i originally indended #absolutely no one is surprised #tw:pseudocest

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