#it's a very brief mention and marked in the text | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 2 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.��

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?”

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door.

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega.

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know.

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door.

It’s going to be a long week.

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent.

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller.

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged.

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat.

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much.

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things.

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?”

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.”

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.”

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?”

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.”

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks.

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom.

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom.

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.”

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable.

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.”

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.”

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert.

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up.

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort.

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room.

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega.

Their omega.

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient.

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right.

Maybe they did need you after all.

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water.

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while.

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back.

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.”

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?”

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.”

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.”

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?”

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room.

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest.

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips.

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back.

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain.

You went into heat.

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark.

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over.

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs.

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears.

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week.

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort.

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this.

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence.

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?”

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb.

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.”

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure.

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.”

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks.

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.”

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.”

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done.

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all.

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him.

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.”

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could.

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks.

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again.

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks.

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame.

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days.

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?”

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.”

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall.

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw.

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside.

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.”

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent.

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases.

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through.

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in.

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-”

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.”

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.”

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh.

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.”

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still.

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-”

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face.

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.”

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it.

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta.

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.”

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees.

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha.

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.”

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it.

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s.

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks.

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole.

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass.

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.”

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either.

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before.

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets.

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again.

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.”

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.”

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank.

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again.

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further.

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.”

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise.

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more.

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!”

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is.

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!”

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done.

They’re both in for a long night.

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #x reader #captain price x reader #John price x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #soap x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #Omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

constantmourning · 8 months

Text

Confidence

[Price/Fem!Reader] [Gaz/Fem!Reader] [Soap/Fem!Reader] [Simon/Fem!Reader] [Poly!TF 141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: You haven't been feeling too confident lately. Your friends convince you to dress up to feel good, and you send them a picture of the end result. Except, you sent the pictures to the wrong group chat...

Word count: 6.9k (hehe)

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!! No use of Y/N, Thigh slapping, finger sucking, p in v, lack of protection, creampie (x2), oral (male and female receiving), face sitting, praise, pet names. Let me know if i forgot something please, I'll be happy to tag it if i did!

A/N: Reader is written As PLUS SIZE! There are mentions of fat/stretch marks/self esteem issues and the likes! This got very long I'm sorry but also I hope you enjoy!! Also, half of this is Beta'd, the other half... well, we die like men...

Your confidence had been at an all time low as of late. You weren’t sure what it was, but ever since joining Captain Price and not having your friends there to tell you just how great you looked every day, you really were down in the dumps.

Babes, I’m terribly upset

You text in your group chat with your friends. You waited for their answer. It felt like a century before someone responded.

Dear, what's wrong?

Finally, one of them had answered. You sighed and took a moment to respond.

I’ve been feeling like utter shit lately. Everyone around me is so… not built like me… I think it’s silly, but I don’t always feel beautiful.

You sent in the chat and immediately got a speech bubble.

Babe… I’m gonna tell you what helps me. Dress up all pretty. Do something to make you feel good. I promise it’ll help

You scrunched your face up.

I’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work I’m going to torment you forever

No response. You groaned and sat up. You decided it’d be best to try that. You looked through your things and found a cute underwear set and walked to your bathroom. Momentarily battling about putting on makeup, you decided to try it.

You sat in your bathroom for a good twenty minutes just doing your makeup. You then took another twenty minutes doing your hair. Everything was going to be undone, but if it was going to help you feel better, why not try it? You slipped into the cute underwear, black and lacy. You examined yourself in the mirror and smiled.

Remember, briefing tomorrow morning

-Captain Price

You remembered, and made a mental note to respond to his text a little later. You, instead of responding, began to take pictures of yourself in different positions. Once you were satisfied with some of them. You decided to throw a few into your group chat with your friends.

Validate me babes <3

You set your phone after you sent the pictures and just looked at yourself. You inhaled and placed a hand on your stomach. You pinched the fat there and sighed. Your phone went off, and then went off again. And again.

HUH?

-Gaz

oh fuck

-Soap

Wrong number?

-Ghost

You felt your heart stop. You wanted to vomit and run away and never be seen again by your teammates. Truly thinking about not responding and running away into the night, you scraped your nails through your hair. You grabbed your robe from the door and screamed into it. As loudly as possible without alerting anyone.

You grabbed your phone up and thought about being a grownup. Briefly.

WRONG GROUP CHAT

You then sent a barrage of different sad emojis and hoped the pictures would leave their minds.

There were no responses for the rest of the night. You went to bed just as you were; hair, makeup- You did put on comfortable pajamas though. You lied down and knew- just knew you would be getting an earful in the morning.

You grabbed your phone one last time and sent a group message to your girls, checking this time if it was really them.

Goodbye, I just wanted to say that. Since I will be simply passing away right now.

Immediate response.

What did you do???

I sent pictures to the wrong group chat. To the work group chat…

Your friends both, at the same time, asked what the pictures were. You sent the pictures and said nothing else. The chat erupted. Your friends were spamming you, different emojis, swears, memes. Anything. If they could send it, it was sent.

You lied on your back, looking up at the ceiling and you sighed. You were going to have to be an adult and face the men you really didn’t want to in the morning. You made that a problem for you in the future, and decided that sleep was the best option. You turned your phone off and slowly fell asleep. A pit in your stomach the whole time you waited for unconsciousness to overtake.

You woke up with the exact same pit in your stomach. You threw on your uniform and walked as fast as you could to the room you were meeting at. You wanted to miss Soap, Ghost, or Gaz. You did not want to run into them.

You opened the door to the room and realized you’d be facing Price alone. That was until you saw everyone was already in the room. You looked at your watch. You were early… If you were early, what time did they get there? You did not want to think about it…

No one would look you in the eyes. Their demeanor had changed completely. But no one mentioned the photos. You stood, uncomfortably, away from everyone. You couldn’t take in any information that Price was giving you. You were hyper aware of everyone around you; their body language…

You watched as Soap balled and unballed his fist a couple times. His knuckles white.

Gaz’s chest was rising and lowering a little quicker than usual. You could tell through the gear. His eyes were trained ahead, looking directly at Captain Price.

Speaking of Price, his eyes would look right over you. You weren’t the best at eye contact anyway, but Price was not bad at it. You knew he was trying to be professional.

Your eyes moved to Ghost and they locked onto his. You, immediately looking away, noticed him shift. His eyes didn’t falter though. He seemed to be the only one looking at you.

You shifted your weight, swallowing hard. Gulping down air like your life depended on it. The tension in the room was too much. You wanted to explode. Instead of exploding, you did (in your mind) the second worst thing. You opened your mouth, and words actually came out.

“I’m sorry!”

Everyone went quiet. Price stopped speaking and all eyes were on you. You gulped again and took a step back, distancing yourself even more. Price was the first to speak up. His brow cocked and you waited for his response. “For what?” He did sound genuinely confused, so you didn’t take it as him pretending to be stupid.

“Uh-” Your eyes scanned the room. You did the thing you were best at, word vomit. “Well, I’m sorry for sending those pictures! It was unprofessional and I didn’t check the group I was in- I was just- I meant to send it to-” You stopped yourself.

“To who?” Ghost asked, deadpan. But, you could almost see the smirk under his mask.

You, not knowing how to stop, kept going. “My friends. I wasn’t feeling good last night- Or the past couple o’ weeks really… My friends said, um, doing what I did would help me feel better! I mean, she did not tell me to send the picture in the work chat!” You put your hands up, no one stopping you from continuing. “I just wanted to feel cute… I guess…”

The room went silent. You made a face and held yourself back from stomping your foot or throwing a tantrum. You decided to be an adult, and wait for a response, one that felt like it was never coming. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all looked at each other before all staring at you. You pouted.

“What?”

“Do friends normally send pictures like that to each other?” Ghost cocked his head at you.

You wanted to throttle him. “Whatever. If this is done, can I leave?”

Price nodded, he knew you had retained nothing, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Free to go.”

You walked out of the room and began to walk towards your room. You felt tears prick your eyes and tried to hold yourself together, at least until you got to the comfort and loneliness of your room. You were seething. You didn’t know why, but you were mad. Mad at how they had acted, mad at how you had acted, and mad that the pictures were sent to them in the first place. You got to your room, slammed your door, and threw yourself down on your bed.

You curled up and decided it was best to skip lunch that day.

A knock came from the other side of your day and you held back the urge to tell whoever it was to go away. You threw yourself out of bed and walked towards the door. Forgetting that you had puffy eyes from crying, you opened the door. Price stood there.

“Hey, you weren’t in the mess hall-” He stopped when you wiped your eyes. “Are you crying?”

You pouted harder. Price sighed. You groaned and moved to the side, motioning for Price to come in. You did not want everyone to see you looking like a mess. Price walked in and you shut the door. You placed your back against it and looked at him.

“Are you alright?” He gave you a concerned look.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Terribly.

Price’s head dropped slightly. “You had said this morning you weren’t feeling-”

“Captain,” You sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just horribly embarrassed. It’ll go back to normal once no one looks at me differently.”

Price’s brows furrowed. “If they don’t?”

You blinked at him. Why would he say that? You felt tears forming again. “Captain-”

“I know you don’t want to hear it from me-” Price started, “And would obviously prefer it from your friends,” He smiled at you softly, and got closer to you, “but, you are stunning. You should not feel the need to be validated, but you should know you are beautiful.”

Something hit you; whether it was the eye contact, what he said, or how he said it, you weren’t sure, but whatever it was sent you into a frenzy. You, without thinking, grabbed Price’s face and kissed him. Hard. Your lips hit his and you realized what you were doing. The kiss was over as fast as it started. You threw yourself back and began to profusely apologize.

“Holy shit!” You were stunned at your actions, “That was so inappropriate, I’m so sorry.”

Price was as stunned as you. You watched him with wide eyes and he processed everything that had just happened. Nothing was being said. It was a deafening silence. Price watched you closely, his eyes dropping from your to your lips. His hands cupped your cheeks and he brought you into another kiss.

You eagerly kissed back, pressing against him. He pushed forward, your back pressing against the door. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth for him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and nothing was stopping either of you.

Until your stomach growled.

Price pulled away and looked down at you. “Look, you need to eat and I’m not sure we should do this-”

“I want this…” Your voice was barely audible, just loud enough for Price to hear.

“How about…” He paused, “you go eat. And think about this-”

“I’m not going to lie now, Captain Price,” You bit the inside of your lip, “I’ve been thinking about you, and the others for a while now.”

“Me and who?” He questioned you, brows knitting together.

“Um, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost… I think about you four all the time. Um, too much actually.” You stop yourself before going further. “Sorry, that's too much truth.”

Price laughs, “Okay… Go eat. Think on this. Text me when you’ve eaten.”

You nodded. “Yes sir,” You did a little salute. Price moved and let you out from your spot. You opened the door and both of you walked out of your room. You, pretending like Price did not just have his tongue in your mouth, walked off for lunch. As you were leaving, Soap walked up. He looked at Price in confusion.

“Why were ya in her room?”

Price smiled at him. “We may be doing a team bonding exercise later.”

“What does that mean?” Soap was quick to ask. Price was quick to ignore. He started to walk off, away from Soap, agitating him. “C’mon! You can’t say that and then not elaborate!”

Your mind was racing the whole time you ate. You could only focus on one damn thing; your earlier actions. And Price's words. Heat prickled across your cheeks as you ate and you made up your mind.

You wanted to do whatever it was Price had been thinking about.

You finished up your food and began to head back to your room. You just had to get a hold of Price, you had to tell him what you had thought about. But not before coming face to face with Soap.

"What happened earlier?" His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned down. "Wait, have you been crying?"

You groaned. "Fuck, it's still noticeable?" You looked back at Soap, "Where's the Captain?"

It was his turn to groan, "I'll take you to him."

You smiled widely and thanked him. He began to lead you to the barracks, the men's barracks. Your stomach flipped and you felt butterflies instantly. You kept your eyes trained ahead, on the back of Soap. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were burning.

"Did Price get to you first?" Soap turned to ask.

You blinked at him, shocked. "Huh?"

He shook his head, mumbling 'nothing' before leading you Price's door. He knocked and there was silence for a minute, before the door opened. Price's eyes fell from Soap and back to you. Price smiled and motioned for you to come in.

Soap began to leave and you grabbed his hand. "Can he come in too?" Your words caught Soap's attention. He froze and looked back at Price.

Price's smile turned into a toothy grin. "Of course."

You pulled Soap in behind you and Price shut the door. You held Soap's hand like a lifeline, a nervousness taking over that only hand holding could help. Soap didn't seem to mind. You looked at Price with a curious expression and finally asked, "What now?"

"Well, we have to lay down some ground rules, and let Soap in on what's going on."

"Please fucking do! What's going on?"

Price looked at you, for you to tell him. Your stomach turned. You swallowed hard and looked at Soap, letting go of his hand. "Um, I talked with Price this afternoon, before I ate. I told him about-" your eyes cut from Soap to Price, who gave you an encouraging nod, "-about liking the four of you. I thought about it, like you asked," you looked to Price again, "and I'm up for-"

"A team bonding exercise?" Soap asked.

You nodded. "If you wanna call it that."

Soap very much so wanted to call it that. He wanted to bond with his men over you. You were unaware- oblivious to the fact that all of them seemed to want that. But, now, the opportunity had presented itself so perfectly. Soap wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you. But he waited.

"Go get Gaz and Ghost." Price looked at Soap before his eyes hit you. Your heart fluttered and you looked at Soap, who was ready to protest.

"Why do I have to go get them? Call them!" Soap's hand snaked around your waist.

"Soap…" Price's eyes narrowed. "I'll take care of her, go get them." Price pulled you from Soap's grasp and Soap groaned. He mumbled a 'whatever' under his breath and left the room.

You watched Soap refrain from slamming the door and moved your gaze to your Captain. You bit the inside of your lip and your arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, hugging yourself.

"C'mere." Price motioned you over. Your feet were heavy and your eyes were wide. You couldn’t move. You inhaled sharply and your hands dropped to your sides. Price watched you like a hawk, “You still up or this? You can back out at any time.” You only nodded. “We’ll set ground rules as soon as Soap gets back with the boys.”

“Until then?” You asked, head cocking to the side.

“We can do whatever you want.”

You nodded again. Anxiety crept in, and even though you knew you could do what you wanted, you needed to ask. “Can I kiss you?” You whispered. Price nodded. You were on him in an instant. Your lips were on his, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled into the kiss. This time, you traced your tongue over his bottom lip. He eagerly opened his mouth for you, and your tongue slipped in.

Price’s teeth ever so slightly bit down, gently scraping your tongue. You moaned. Price smiled again. His hands rested on your hips and he pulled you closer to him. He began to back up and he soon reached his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and you froze. Suddenly, you were aware, very much so, of him and yourself. You looked at Price, he looked up at you through his lashes.

Without saying a word, he placed his hand on his upper thigh, and patted. Everything in you screamed for you to sit down, but you were stuck standing in front of him. Price’s lips turned downward and his brows furrowed. You shifted your weight and looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“Love,” Price reached his hand out for you, “what’s wrong?”

You grabbed his hand and sighed, “I don’t wanna sit on your lap because, what if-” You stopped yourself. Price’s brows furrowed and he asked for you to continue. You refused.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You threw your head back and whined, “I don’t wanna be too heavy.” You didn’t want to say it too loud. You felt silly enough already. But it was a real fear, being rejected because of your weight.

Price gave you a soft smile, “Don’t even think that way, I promise it’ll be fine.” Price motioned for you, once again, to sit on his lap. So, you did. You didn’t place all of your weight immediately, and he could tell you obviously didn’t want to. So he would coax you. You were sitting on one of his thighs, uncomfortably if you were being honest. Until Price took matters into his own hands.

Price’s heel rose from the floor, catching you off guard. Your back arched and you grabbed his shoulders. “What are you-” His foot dropped, taking all of you with it. All of your weight pressed down on his thigh now, and as soon as his foot hit the floor his hands were on your hips. You instinctively grinded into him and let out an embarrassing whimper.

The door of the room opened and you looked back, unmoving. Soap and Gaz walked into the room, and your heart jumped into your throat when Ghost walked in right behind them. He closed the door and everyone was staring at you. You wanted to hide your face but there was nowhere to hide. Your whole body was hot and you couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of their eyes on you and how good Price’s thigh felt against you. Price lifted his heel again, and before you could prepare yourself, it hit the ground. You moaned.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled.

“Sorry, love,” Price smiled, “I had to show them your reaction.” Price gripped your hip before releasing it and looking at the guys. “There are some things we need to go over before we get down to business.” Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all nodded, listening closely. “We need a safe word.”

They all looked at you. You were confused momentarily. “Uh, red? Like y’know, green, yellow and red? If I’m good I’ll tell you green, if I’m iffy I’ll tell you yellow, and red is just hard stop.”

They all nodded in agreement with you. Soap was the first to speak up, “What first?” You shrugged, feeling very shy all the sudden. Price gripped your hip before releasing it, and you looked at him for reassurance.

“You decide, darling.” Price looked back at the guys and then at you, “Who first?”

You said the first thing that came to your mind. “Gaz.” You looked back at him and watched him ball his fists, before relaxing. He smirked at you and Price stood you up. “You’re feelings aren’t hurt right?” You looked around the room.

“Bonnie,” Soap smiled at you, “we’ll all get a chance, no hard feelings.”

“You’re just saying that,” Gaz elbowed him, “You wanted to be first.” He then promptly ignored Soap’s angry stare and approached you. Price stood up from his bed and he, Ghost, and Soap watched you closely. Your body was set ablaze and you just focused on Gaz.

“Please, kiss me?” Your voice was soft, your arms behind your back. Eyes cutting through your lashes as you looked at Gaz. You did not have to ask again. He was on you instantly and his hands were cupping your face.

He backed you towards the bed and you fell down. You scooted up the bed and Gaz was on you again. This time, he was kissing your neck. Your mewls filled the room. You had no clue what to do with your hands. You were pulling at the sheets and then started to pull at Gaz’s shirt. He eagerly pulled it off.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked, so politely, how could you deny him?

“I don’t know…” You answered. Suddenly, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You were staring at the ceiling and playing with the cover beneath you.

“You don’t have to,” Gaz nuzzled your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. “We can work towards that.”

You nodded, “Okay,” a breathy whisper escaped you. Gaz worked wonder with his hands, he grabbed at your hips and his fingers ran up your side, just under your shirt, causing you to gasp. Goosebumps rose on your skin. With eyes shut tight, you spoke up, “You can take my shirt off.”

Gaz smiled into your neck and pushed himself up. You sat up and helped Gaz help you out of your shirt. You sat there in your bra and the cool air made you realize what you had just done. Your hands went to cover your abdomen and Gaz frowned. He placed a hand on yours but did not dare move your hands away from you.

“You’re beautiful… I-” He stopped himself, “We can show you that if we need to.”

You bit the inside of your lip, “I’m gonna be honest. I’ve never felt comfortable in these situations… Well, actually, I’ve never been in this situation, with multiple men… I never even felt comfortable with just one.”

The energy in the room shifted immediately. Before, it was just horny, then it quickly changed to something more serious. Gaz nodded, understanding. “We can stop if you get too uncomfortable. Where are you right now?”

“Green.” You grew more comfortable, even if it was just with him at that moment. You moved your hands from your stomach and placed them, palms down on the cover, beside you. Gaz gave you a soft smile and nodded. “You can continue.” You reassured him. He did just that.

You leaned back on the bed and let Gaz take over again. His hands ran up your sides and towards your bra. You arched your back and let him unclasp it. You shimmied out of it and he threw it to the side. You laid back on the mattress and looked up at Gaz, who was staring at you as if you were a gift from whatever God was listening to him when he prayed.

One of his hands moved for your chest and you gasped. His hands were warm and calloused and something about his touch was so calming. He massaged your breast and lowered himself to your neck again. Your back arched harder and your hips bucked upwards slightly, causing Gaz to groan into your neck.

You had almost forgotten other men were in the room. Almost. "Ugh" Soap groaned, "could you go any slower, Gaz?" You laughed at his remark. Genuine and loud. Gaz grumbled into your neck and pushed himself up.

"I'm going to ignore him now," Gaz looked dead at you, you were the only one in the room according to him. You smiled at him and nodded. Gaz kissed your jawline, down your throat and headed for your chest. He briefly paused at your nipples, a hand playing with one while the other got sucked on. You moaned and whined at him, the sound of the other men shuffling around the room not even detering you.

Gaz's hands moved towards your belt and you tensed. You said nothing though. But Gaz still noticed you tense. He froze and looked up at you, one of his brows cocking. "Green," you whispered, still focusing only on him. He gave a nod and made quick work of your belt. It was pulled off of you in no time. You kicked off your shoes and Gaz began to pull down your pants. You lifted your hips to make it easier, and soon enough you were just laying there in your panties.

You were nearly completely exposed to them. Your thighs, stomach, stretch marks, all of it on display. Part of you didn't care, but part of you was terrified. Gaz's fingers gently traced your stretch marks and you froze up.

"Yellow." You blurted out, without really thinking.

Gaz was off of you in an instant. "You okay, love?" Price and Gaz asked at the same time.

"Uh, sorry," You sat up, resting on your forearms, "not used to this attention. I was a little uncomfortable." They all looked at you, attentively. "We can continue."

"How would you feel…" Gaz trailed off, thinking hard, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs again. "Sitting on my face?"

Your heart jumped into your throat. How were you going to survive? Your eyes widened and you pulled yourself up, trying to comfort yourself. "What if… what if it's too much?"

"What?" Gaz, seemingly genuinely confused, cocked his head. "What if what's too much?"

You gave him a deadpan expression as if he should know. "I don't wanna crush you with my thighs!"

"What an honorable and lovely way to go, though!" Gaz gave you a goofy grin.

You thought for a moment, "Okay, but can we do it my way?" You played with the sheets beneath you. Gaz hummed, asking what your way was. "Uh, you lay on the floor and I'll sit on your face." Your face was suddenly burning as you said the rest of your thought, "So I can I suck one of their dicks." Your words ran together and you tried to hide your face.

"Hey, no need to be shy now!" Gaz comforted you. "Anyway, I'm sure I know one of them is absolutely dying for you to suck his dick." Gaz whispered to you. You laughed, causing the others to wonder what was being said.

Gaz moved off of you and got on the floor. He laid down and patted his chin, waiting for you to get up and take a seat on his face. The others looked at you with confusion. They couldn't help but wonder what you had planned. You stood up and wondered how to not awkwardly take your panties off. You decided it didn't have to be awkward, you were with four men who were ready to throw themselves at you (well, Ghost hadn't yet…), you didn't need to feel so self conscious.

Yet, there you were, being self conscious. "Do you have to watch me while I take off my panties?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to watch, love?" Ghost adjusted himself, causing a pit to form in your stomach.

You grumbled a 'fine', and slid off your panties. You made your way to Gaz, who was more than ready to devour you. You got on your knees, one on each side of his head and looked at the other guys. Gaz placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer down to him.

"Don't be afraid to sit all the way down." He smiled against your thigh, causing you to melt.

"Soap," You had said his name with a lust in your voice you weren't sure you were capable of. He perked up. "C'mere." You motioned for him to come over. He was on you as soon as possible.

"May I?" You grabbed up at his belt. Gaz kissed up your thigh, closing in on your pussy. Your thighs clenched around him without you meaning to and you immediately apologized.

"Fuck," Soap groaned, "You're so gorgeous…" That caused you to look back up at him through your lashes. Soap was promptly pulling his belt off for you. He unbuttoned and unzipped them so fast you were unable to process his movements.

Gaz licked a stripe up your pussy and you gasped. “Fuck…” Your voice was soft and weak. You focused back on Soap and looked up at him. Your hands moved to his waistband and you bit your bottom lip. You pulled at his underwear and you were immediately at eye level with his cock. Your hand wrapped around it and you began to softly pump it, the head already dripping precum. You slid his dick into your mouth.

Everything was going on at once. You were trying to focus on Gaz absolutely going to town on you, you were trying to focus on sucking Soap’s soul straight from his body, while also trying to focus on looking okay for Ghost and Price. Which, in all honesty, you didn’t need to try to do that at all. In their minds you were already perfect.

Soap’s cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You couldn't help it. Soap's hands tangled in your hair and he held you steady, which you were thankful for. Gaz was putting his mouth to good use and you needed all the help you could get. If you weren't so concerned with Gaz and Soap you would have heard Ghost and Price groaning and grunting on the other side of the room.

You looked up at Soap, tears pricking your eyes, and he pulled your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. "Good girl," he grunted, causing you to have a reaction.

Gaz was going to town under you. His tongue lapping you up as quickly as possible. His hands gripped your hips tight, holding you down while his fingers dug into the skin. You lost it. You settled completely on Gaz's face and moaned onto Soap's cock. Gaz's nose rubbed against your clit and you were sent over the edge immediately. You gripped Soap's outer thigh and tried your best to keep going as your first orgasm hit you. Soap saw you struggling and pulled away, leaving you a mess.

"Kyle!" You moaned out. Gaz did not slow. In fact, you saying his name only caused him to go harder. Your hands hit the floor and your nails dug into the wood. You started to grind onto Gaz's face, a whining and whimpering mess. No words were forming. At least not properly. "Please- Fuck, I-"

Gaz slowed and his grip loosened on you. You pushed yourself up, or tried, Gaz helped you move off his mouth and you were left sitting on your knees, hunched over and reeling.

"Holy shit."

"You still good?" Ghost asked from across the room. You nodded. "Wonderful, because we're just getting started."

You looked up and noticed Ghost was still in uniform. He had obviously been masturbating, but he was fully clothed. Price however, was not. He stood naked, his hand pumping away at his cock. You wanted him. He caught your glance and immediately stopped jacking off. You sat up straight but your eyes cut away from him.

"Mind if I join, dear?" He smirked at you. Words were still not forming. You motioned for him to walk over and made his way towards you. He easily pulled you up and walked you over to the bed. He set you down and you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked up at Price, and sighed.

"I forgot to mention," you finally formed a sentence, "I'm on birth control." Price smiled at this. It was your way of saying 'Please rawdog me right now' and he understood instantly. He lowered himself to your level, lips pressing to your ear.

"Wanna be on top?" Price whispered, chills running up your spine.

"I don't know…"

"Whatever you want to do is fine, love, but I'd love to watch you ride my cock-"

"Okay." You are hooked instantly. His tone, his accent? He did not have to repeat himself. Before you knew it, he was laying on the bed and you were positioned over him. You grabbed his cock and started to gently rub up and down it, before lowering yourself onto him. You whimpered, Price steadying you. He watched you closely.

“Good girl, that’s it,” He grunted. His hands rested on your thighs. You were still so sensitive. You had a feeling you were going to be sensitive for the rest of the day.

“Captain…” You moaned out, not entirely sure where it came from. But it did something to Price. His hips bucked up immediately. You gasped. You were bouncing up and down, slowly at first. Your hands rested on Price’s chest to steady yourself, your legs still wobbly from the earlier interaction with Gaz.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room. Your whimpers and all of their groans and grunts filled the barracks, most likely. Your pace picked up and Price slapped his hand against your thigh, the smack ringing in your ears. The sting only turned you on more. “Fuck,” Price’s teeth were gritted, “love, you’re taking me so well.”

Your eyes shut tight and your mouth fell agape. One of your hands grabbed his, the one that rested on your thigh, and you were coming undone again. “John-” You stuttered out his name, “John, I’m gonna-”

Your movements slowed, but Price kept bucking his hips, causing your second orgasm to hit faster than you thought. A string of curses left your lips and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Your stomach was in knots as you clenched around Price.

“Love, I’m-” He was so close… “Where?”

“Inside.” It was so clear and coherent. Price did not argue.

His hips bucked up a couple more times and suddenly he was cumming as well. You leaned down and your whole body tensed. The feeling of his cum spilling out and rolling down your thighs was all you could think about. Price pushed himself up and kissed you, catching you off guard. You were kissing until one of the guys stopped groaning and spoke up.

“My turn.”

You pulled away from Price and looked over your shoulder. Ghost. You blinked at him a few times and Price moved you off of him. He stood up and let Ghost approach you. Ghost looked at Soap and motioned for him to get behind you on the bed.

“This okay?” Soap asked.

“Yeah-” You started. Ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh. Green.”

“Atta girl,” The tone in Ghost’s voice caught you off guard. You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, love,” He began to pull his pants down, “but I’m not letting you on top. And the mask isn’t coming off.”

You nodded. Soap was behind you holding you. You began to wonder if Soap and Ghost had done something like this before… You, however, did not wonder for long. Ghost was on you quick, his mask pulled up slightly to kiss you. His hand was placed under your chin, keeping you in place. He pulled away from you and looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

Ghost’s fingers slipped down to your dripping pussy and he slid two fingers into you. He kept eye contact with you as he fingered you. You shut your eyes as he hit a spot you had never had someone reach with just their fingers and he clicked his tongue again.

“Look at me.” Ghost’s voice was gruff. Your eyes snapped back open and your chest heaved. “Good girl.” You were stuck trying to form a sentence again, and the word Ghost slid from your lips, but nothing else was intelligible. “Simon,” He leaned down to your ear, “You can call me Simon.”

You were sent into a frenzy. Your hips bucked up and as he dragged his fingers out of you, your hips tried to follow. You were putty in his hands. You were a blubbering mess once again. Another orgasm hit and you cried out for Simon. Your eyes screwed shut and you gripped onto Soap, who was still right behind you.

Simon pulled his fingers from you and slid them into your open mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You looked at him through half shut eyes and shut your mouth, sucking on his fingers. Simon smiled under his mask, you could see him smirking under it as you eagerly sucked his fingers. He removed them from your mouth with a ‘pop’ and you watched him, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see what was next.

Simon grabbed your chin and made sure you stayed looking at him. “I’m going to fuck you, is that alright?” You nodded and he continued, “Soap is going to be here for moral support.” He patted your thigh. Soap’s hands rested on your hips, and as Simon said that, he gripped you tighter and placed a kiss on your shoulder.

‘Fuck,’ You thought, reeling from everything going on, ‘I’m going to need fucking support?’ You prepared yourself for what was to come. Simon told you to position yourself, and Soap, seeming to know the drill, helped you while Simon took his clothes off. Simon was completely naked except for his mask, and you were staring. Staring, and staring. Your head was resting on Soap’s stomach, and Soap was leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Simon crawled onto the bed and leaned over you, angling himself at your entrance. His eyes cut to Soap and moved back to you.

“Green,” You were eager for him to continue. So he did. Simon’s hips thrusted into yours, his pace slow and steady. Your legs were quick to wrap around his waist and Soap rubbed your shoulders. He whispered how good you were, how amazing you had been, and how hot you looked taking Simon’s cock.

Your cries grew louder, and you begged and pleaded for Simon to go faster. Simon grunted as he did so. His pace picked up and you were being plowed into within seconds of asking. Your head rocked back and you looked at Soap.

“Johnny-” You whined, tears pricked your eyes, “Fuck-” You reached up for Soap, who was hard again, you could feel it, and you touched his face. Soap mumbled some swears but was quick to encourage you some more. “I can’t- Uhn-” Your legs tightened around Simon’s waist and you cried for him. His name ripped from your lips and you said it over and over. Moaning for more. Simon did not stop.

“You can-” Your words caught in your throat, “You can cum inside-”

Simon wasn’t far off from you. You were laying there, whining and mewling as he continued to wreck you. His thrusts began to pick up speed once more, until he finally came as well. His hips slowed slightly, and he placed his face in your neck. He moaned out your name and your stomach flipped.

Soap placed and a kiss on your forehead. “We can take a break if you need to?” You couldn’t answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Simon pulled out of you and you lied there in Soap’s arms for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Come on,” Price walked over to the bed, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You didn’t move. Your legs felt wobbly and your brain was foggy. Your eyes cut over towards Price and you saw Gaz grow concerned. “You good?” He asked. You finally processed his words and gave a lazy thumbs up. This elicited a laugh from Simon.

After a couple minutes and Soap trying to get up, you stopped him. Your hand grabbed his bicep, “Wait,” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all the noises you had been making, “is this-” You froze momentarily, “Is this a one time thing?”

You could see them all look at each other and then back at you. They all started talking at the same time, “No!” “Of course not!” and “Do you want it to be?”

You sighed in contentment , “I think I could go for the occasional team bonding… If you guys are up for it of course!”

“Absolutely,” Simon leaned over you, “Now we really need to get this mess cleaned up.”

You smiled, agreeing, and let them help you. You had felt more confident than before, and while you knew you didn’t need to rely on others to make you feel that way, you hoped that whatever happened could continue.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod smut #john price #gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #soap smut #soap cod #ghost smut #simon riley smut #john price smut #task force 141

1K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 3 months

Text

THE SOUND OF SILENT GRAVES (X)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XI

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 15.5k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, broody/stubborn Nikto, brief smut, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind doesn’t remember the first time you looked in the mirror and saw the beginnings of the flaws. Perhaps your nose was a bit too strange—lips a bit too…there the second you turned thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Fifteen. You know it started slow, like all poison does; the point to where you actually begin to pay attention to the chains around your neck.

Your eyes hadn’t left where Nikto’s sweatpants sat so well over your hips for at least five minutes. Usually, you’d pick at those flaws here, on the cold bathroom tile with the black and white wash of nothingness. But this is distraction enough to block it out, at least for now.

You smell like him.

You’d noticed after you had woken up for the second time and had found Nikto gone—his thigh no longer the firm pillow to your skull. It startled you, admittingly, and you thought it was unlike him, but then your ears had picked up on the barked Russian sentences outside the bedroom door, drifting in from under the wood as your haze cleared. Best guess? He was on the phone with someone while you kept getting the rest he said you needed; you could only speculate how he got out from under you without making your eyes snap open. But, yes, it was undeniable that every ounce of your skin was bathed in his scent; marked, branded as if a sheep.

Rotting wood coated in gunpowder, and gnawing metal that peels back flesh.

It’s stuck in your nostrils as you itch at the side of your nose, blinking away from your reflected visage as if it’s on fire.

Focus, you plead, and you don’t even know to whom.

So much had happened, that the thought of your brain calming down was impossible. Nikto knew. He knew about the purpose of the parties, he knew about your doubts and fears, he knew your body.

As you exit the bathroom, your mind slips into a dark thought—maybe learning to care about someone turns you into a bit of a stalker of your own. No one else could say they knew you as well as Nikto now does: your fears and your hopes. Not even Alyona, you flatten your lips at the realization, and you consider her your best friend.

“Jesus,” you groan quietly after a moment, pushing your palms into your eyes with a heavy sigh.

It can’t be past noon now, and you can’t run from this forever.

The phone on your nightstand is taken up, and, sitting back on the bed, your eyes dart and skate past the tossed party dress on the floor, wishing someone would go out and burn it already. As the visible tear in the lace catches your attention, along with the slashed corset, there’s an unmistakable twitch at your lips, that only makes your chest tighten immediately after.

Clearing your throat, you turn back on the device and try to give it your undivided, though anxious, attention. The sound of sharp Russian beyond the door gives a sliver of comfort.

But still…why hadn’t he woken you up? There’s a sliver of confusion that takes place in your mind, but you push it back softly.

The first wave of notifications is expected, and exactly the same as it had been before breakfast.

Kliment Fedorov, Alyona, your Mom, even the investigators—texts and calls, ranging from clipped sentences to long paragraphs. Thumb hovering over the screen, you raise your opposite hand and rub at the base of your skull, a low sound in the back of your throat. There was so much, you didn’t even know where to begin. You should be worrying about the stalker, not your job.

But…when had you not been worried about your job?

Just another thing to make me lose my mind faster, you think. God, this is getting to a point where I’m starting to not care if they get rid of me—at least then I’d be able to make my own decisions. You start with Aly, and you quickly slap the call icon just to ease your shaky fingers of the stuttered typing they would have had to do otherwise. Phone to ear, the ringing only persists for two seconds before there’s the hurried panic of static and a frantic voice.

“Seraph!”

“Aly—” You try to quickly calm her down, mouth open with the half-formation of speech.

“Bastard! Why did you not call me?!” The woman snaps, and your ears twitch, your body flinching at the guilt that grows. “I have been up all night and worried most of the morning—damn you. Everyone at AMA is silent and Fedorov won’t let me into his office.”

That’s right, you had told her you’d call her after the party—when you’d talked to her after seeing Nikto’s back tattoo.

After you’d touched his ravaged flesh.

Your face heats slowly, head tilting to the floor as you clear your throat. It was all wrapped in tissue paper, those memories. The storage room, the way those pale eyes had dug into your form in that damned dress, wanting to try and compliment you in his own strange way but being unable when you degraded yourself so consistently—unsure of himself. It was addictive seeing such a frenzied and numb man walking on cracking ice.

But that doesn’t make you any more sure of yourself.

“I meant to,” you hurry into your explanation, waving a hand even if she can’t see it. “You know I wouldn’t leave you wondering unless I had a good reason.”

Alyona huffs over the line, silence falling as her anger tapers into a line. “...I need to put a bell on you, Солнышко.”

You close your eyes and sigh, fingers moving to push into your nose bridge.

“Yeah,” your mouth utters. “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea, Aly.”

It isn’t long before there’s the low plea—that heavy insinuation. You know she’s still now, waiting for you to begin. “Tell me, then.”

Face tightening, you pause and listen for Nikto. You still hear the muted conversation, and occasionally, the stomp of heavy boots along the floors. He’s pacing.

What’s going on out there? Who was he talking to? You wonder silently, perplexed. Nikto had made many phone calls before, and while he preferred to be in a nearby area and speak in his mother tongue, they hadn’t been as long as this—nor as snappy. Shaking your head, you suppose it’s a problem for later, and in the back of your mind, every word that he’d ever spoken to you rattles like rocks.

You were nervous around Nikto now, and that doesn’t make any sense to you.

Doesn’t the nervous part come before getting touched in the back of some dark storage room?

You grunt under your breath, clenching your jaw; becoming more and more like Nikto as the days pass, it seemed.

“I didn’t sleep with Tarkovsky,” your words are breathy and low. Trying to hide. “...Nikto stopped it.” The heavy pause is enough to make your palms sweat. “Aly?”

“Perhaps I judged the beast of man too early.” You blink, tilting your head as your eyebrows draw in. “Christ, Seraph. I’m relieved, of course I am, but what will Fedorov do once he finds out?”

“He already knows,” you relay. “Nikto wasn’t…subtle about his refusal to let me go.”

“Blood?” Aly asks.

“And bone,” you sigh.

“Shit,” the woman over the line grumbles. “Do you…” she trails off slowly. “Do you think AMA will keep you on?”

“This hasn’t happened before,” you shrug to yourself, hearing Nikto speaking louder. Your eyes dart to the door, and as you blink, your fingers run your thigh in a self-soothing motion. “I don’t know. Right now I’m debating if it’s even worth it.” A painful chuckle. “Any advice?”

“Keep the bastard around long enough to break someone else's bones.” Aly’s laugh is sharp and smooth. “Show them what happens when they do anything he doesn’t like.”

“The night wasn’t all bad,” you try to defend his personality a smidge. “He’s not some monster, Aly.”

“I wasn’t implying that,” there’s the sound of moving fabric from over the call, and Alyona is most likely in a fitting room herself, taking up your call as she rushed out of a photographer’s shoot at light speed. “...You like him, then? Truly? Or are you just enamored by his capacity for violence?”

Your body slows at the obvious jest, taking it seriously. Face stilling, you blink at the wall across from you. Everything else blurs for a moment, memories slashing to every opened car door and meal made with expert hands. Organized magazines on your tables and cleaned dishes. There was something funny about the way you enjoyed the stretch of his sin coating you like blood over the visible flesh of a masked face.

Nikto wasn’t a good person. You knew that.

“Yes,” you whisper regardless, feet shifting below you. “How can I spend so much time with someone and not like them?” Your words try to reason.

“Very easily,” the Russian woman scoffs, not wasting time. “You know what I mean, Little Seraph. Don’t try to push me off like I am stupid.” A low hum. “When you talk about him, your breath goes light.”

“It does not,” your voice tightens.

“Denial,” Aly sighs. “The first sign.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” you groan, standing up and beginning to walk the room casually. You enjoyed the banter—the teasing: you two were good at that.

As soft chuckles waft around, your lips twitch into a smile. “He’s not horrible. That’s all I’ll say.”

“No beast?”

“No, no beast. A stubborn brute of a dogish ex-soldier?” You roll your eyes, and the commotion outside of the door takes on a different tone. You pay it no mind. “One hundred percent.”

“You like strays, yes, Seraph?” Alyona’s line crackles.

“I was burdened with a good heart,” you joke with a chuckle, nodding. As the second of silence draws, you reluctantly push out, “I need to check in with everything else.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” is the easy reply. The next sentence is troubled. “...If you’re kept, will you have to go to the rest of the parties?”

You don’t get to reply, because there isn’t a moment to think above the sinking in your gut and the sudden shove of the door. Head snapping up, the phone is tilted from your face as your eyes bug wildly.

Iakov makes it three steps into the room, searching for you, before a growled shout and a ruthless hand connected with his suit’s collar. Watching wide-eyed, you see the way the pale-haired man is dragged out with a loud call of alarm.

Mouth agape, all you utter is a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before rapidly hanging up and moving as fast as you can to the door.

Shoulder hitting the frame, you stutter as you right yourself swiftly. “Nikto?”

“Go back to bed,” the black void grunts, gloved hand releasing Iakov with a violent shove. The two men are in the living room, your guard glaring with venom at your media coordinator as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor.

“She can’t!” Iakov meets that fire with fire, strengthening himself. His face is a tone darker—eyes sharply snapping. “Fedorov has been waiting all day to have a meeting, and I won’t have my job on the line because of some entitled bra—!”

Nikto’s hand re-wraps itself around the man’s collar, jerking the fabric, and in turn, the smaller body forward until the rough fabric of the lower half of his mask is nearly brushing Iakov’s nose.

“I will cut out your tongue,” Nikto eases out far smoother than you’d heard thus far in your many days together.

Your heart skips a beat.

“...Okay,” you say under your breath, face on fire as your coordinator freezes like a bird under a cat, a flash of rage simmering in his expression. The tension was palpable.

Truth be told, you’d never seen Iakov so unmanaged before—hair this way and that, suit ruffled not only from Nikto but from the apparent running of hands. He was always so put together. You swallow down your shaky worry.

You’d never known him to be anything but respectful. It was like a knife to the chest to see such a rabid switch of emotions—of personality. Christ, it was damn near wrong.

“Nikto,” you say quickly, and the brute only tilts his head your way, not looking at you as his fingers tighten. Your tongue darts to wet your lips. “Please.”

Iakov is pushed back once more, and your guard grunts, light gaze unwavering as he backs up only a half-step nearer to you, widening his shoulders as the trunks of his arms cross his chest. Suddenly, thoughts of sex, power, and a stalker boil down to the sight in front of you instead, and the great confusion gets larger still.

Nikto is back in full gear, and here you are in sweatpants and an oversized shirt. When had your Russian bear managed to change? Had he left the bedroom far sooner than you’d thought? And…why? Keeping the Russian in the side of your narrowed eye, you take a breath and quickly address the greater problem.

I thought Nikto was only on a phone call.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice is low, riddled with exasperation and a tinge of stiffness. Would Nikto even have let someone in without talking to you first? It seemed unlikely.

Iakov sneers, clenching his jaw—the void beside you is silent.

“Key.” Long fingers disappear into his suit, peeling out the gray face of a hotel room key and holding it between two fingers. Eyes pierce you, narrowed with a wave of horrible anger and swirling contempt that makes your breath hitch as if under the scrutiny of a wolf.

Your lungs hold themselves in your ribs like prisoners at the confession; eyes widening.

Key?

Nikto levels out slowly, shifting with canid-like movements. “Walked in when we were speaking to the investigators over call.” He breathes out a rumble. “Nearly shot his head off.”

“You would have had a harder time than that, Хуй,” Iakov barks, dress shoes clicking as he slaps a foot forward.

Heart hammering, your anxiety dances—questions muddling. Paranoia. Why would Iakov be allowed to have a key to your room? Had he always had one when you were sent out to parties?

What if he’d walked in before….?

Shaking your head at the implication, you step in before Nikto has a chance to jump the man, snapping out in a fashion that was unlike you, but came from both a place of desperation and nervousness. Your face pulls into a sharp display of panicked anger.

“Both of you shut up and listen!” Nikto freezes, eyes flashing instantly to shock. After a moment, any discernible emotion vanishes from his pale eyes, and he blinks down to you; shoulders lowering as if a display of submission.

While you can’t see it, Nikto’s heart sputters. He hadn’t expected that from you.

Even back in Yekaterinburg, you were more prone to letting the course go calm—letting others lay themselves over you to avoid confrontation. You were still like that, of course; that was plainly seen in your unwillingness to explain before the party what was going on, but an outburst like that Nikto had never seen before.

He watches you closely but remains mute even if his throat cages in a grunt of surprise.

Iakov freezes as well, neck snapping over like a fish on a hook. He was rageful and arrogant, you could now see it plainly. Even if he was always composed, you weren’t blind to the looks he would give you when he passed you in AMA—the discreet touches to the back of your shoulders or arms when you’d be given schedules face-to-face.

You were stuck in a circle of distrust and lustful eyes, and the only reprieve was a man with more blood on his hands than a butcher holding a pig’s heart.

Trying to calm yourself, you shake your head softly.

“Iakov,” you utter at the glaring face, hate and disgust stuck behind pupils. “Explain it to me.”

“You fucked it all up,” he growls, and Nikto’s gaze snaps to return to a pale face. Yet he still doesn’t interfere, hanging around like a puppy lacking his needle teeth. Muzzled. It doesn’t stop his eyes from sparking, however. “There is no deal with Tarkovsky! You know what that means, Seraph?” His hair is flattened down by a fast hand, tongue licking at his lips. “No money. Fedorov is wringing my neck! Why have you not answered the phone?!”

“I was resting,” you mutter stiffly, face a tension-ridden mess. Glancing at Nikto and his tight pupils, the Russian doesn’t look over, only his hips moving in a small shuffle. You clear your throat with a small ache starting to form at the base of your skull. “Just got up.”

“It is past noon,” the shorter man barks. “This is absurd!”

“Lower your tone,” Nikto utters.

“I will speak what I will,” Iakov’s expression is like a knife as you stuff your shaky hands into your pockets. “Seraph needs to listen to what I tell her to do before—”

“Before what,” your guard interrupts, tilting his head. Around him is a false calm that somehow seems more violent than if he was yowling like a mutt. Your lips thin into a line. “Hm? Speak. You were doing it not a second ago.”

Your coordinator stills and he wisely keeps his tongue from flapping.

“We will say it only once more,” you watch Nikto from the corner of your eye, breath trapped in your throat as his hips tighten and arms slip to hang by them; gloved hand flexing where the lack of a digit is glaring at you. “Watch your tongue.”

“I’ll call him,” you comply to Iakov’s complaints after a moment of heavy silence, face on fire and your chest being hit by every palpitation of your heart. Your mind is airy, and that scent of rotten wood is back as your legs push in on themselves. “I’ll explain what I can and—”

“Too late,” is the hissed answer. “He already gave me my workload. You’re going out tonight if you still want your job.” Your spine goes rail-straight. “This is the last chance, Seraph,” the pale-haired man spits. “This is it—you’ll put on what I have for you to wear, you’ll give yourself to the man who wants to invest into AMA, and you’ll keep doing what I tell you to. Your dog,” Iakov stares at Nikto for a long while, opening and closing his hands like he wants to say more, but only growls, “will do as he is ordered.”

Nikto is about to punch him, you can tell by the roll and shake of his wrist. In an instant, you have your hand grabbing at his bicep, barely applying pressure beyond the initial grasp and yank. It does the trick though.

Nikto’s body halts.

“Give me the key and get out,” you say in a monotone to the raging coordinator.

Iakov looks like he’s going to fight on that, and your unease at his presence gets larger. The knowledge that he had access to your hotel room the entire time makes your muscles writhe with something dangerous—alarm bells. But the stalker isn’t here with you, is he? He’s back in Yekaterinburg unless there’s something you don’t know about.

Before you can pull on your guard’s arm again, Nikto pounces and slaps the key to the floor, which skids along the white tile as you gasp softly. Great hand connecting with a shouting Iakov’s collar, Nikto doesn’t let go as he begins dragging the man away like a toddler with ease, dress shoes scuffing the floor.

Face loose, your eyes follow as the Russian grasps the door handle, yanks the barrier open, and tosses the coordinator out with a snarl.

“You need to obey what I tell you—!” The scream is cut off as the door is slammed shut in Iakov’s face ruthlessly. A lock clicks in place, and that’s the end of it.

Nikto stays to stare through the peephole, eyes beady and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Under the mask, his skin is taut with feral tension.

In his youth, the Russian had been unswayable in his anger—a fact that resulted in many a school fight and bloodied faces, usually not only his own. It’s what brought him to the military, to be completely honest with himself. A lust for something he could control like a pocket knife in his hand, but bigger than two teenagers wailing on each other in some field while a gaggle cheered them on. Split knuckles and cut lips. One thing never got any easier, though.

That damn spark of animalistic loyalty.

He’d formed some bond with you, that was certain. Mutual gain? Who knows. Bodily need? Maybe. Actual care? …Curse him, but perhaps. Yet, hold his toes over a fire if he didn’t feel a horrific rage at some man he could break over his thigh speaking to you like that.

He feels your gaze on the back of his head even now, as he watches that media coordinator scurry off like a rat, and he flashes to the ongoing gag the two of you had formed.

Looks like a Shrew. Little rodent.

Nikto sighs under his breath, fingers coming up to rub at his covered chin, scraping gloves against the thick canvas. He backs up with a scoff and stalks away.

“The man is weak,” Nikto says to you, keeping a tight side-eye. “Get a better one before we dispose of him.”

You strangle down a quick laugh, mouth slowly opening as you think over your words. The comment, said in that rough and sandpaper-like accent, flows through you like water. You should be put off by it, you think to yourself in the back of your brain, especially after the explosion in the bakery and the death of your three previous guards; of Yefim.

Yet…

Your throat tightens. “You think he was being serious?” You ask. “About the party tonight? My job?”

“You are not going.” It’s immediate.

“Nikto,” you frown, stepping forward as he brushes past you to grab his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. “There are parts that I won’t be a part of again, but I know that you know, that I need to keep my position at AMA. With any hope, showing up will be enough—I can speak, persuade, the person who—”

“Why?” he spits, shoving the device away as his pale eyes glare, head tilting.

If you knew any better, you’d compare this to a boy pouting. Just perhaps a bit more serious.

“Oh,” you vaguely motion with a hand, sarcastically uttering as your heart slows now that it’s only the two of you. “I don’t know—food, rent, the ability to live comfortably. You know, the usual.”

Nikto huffs, taking out his baretta and placing it on the table before the cleaning rag is slipped from his belt. He sits down near the neatly folded blanket and perfect pillows, silent. You’d have to keep this conversation going later, there was a low curiosity in your stomach. His phone—the speaking you’d heard from the bedroom.

“Who were you talking to before I came out?” Walking forward, you listen to the click of dark metal as Nikto takes apart his gun piece by piece, setting them all down in a well-thought-out order. He glances up, and you see his lashes dip in a blink. As usual, his expression is unreadable while behind that mask. You almost missed the balaclava—at least you could see the outline of his lips that way.

“Anything important?”

“Investigators,” Nikto grumbles. “They have taken Sergi into custody, but can get nothing out of him,” he pauses, troubled though you can’t see it as your eyes widen, body going to sit beside his own before intently listening.

“That’s perfect!” You speak, a smile overtaking your lips. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any more texts from the stalker. Do you think that they’ll keep him there?”

“No,” you still, smile freezing. “They cannot.” Pale eyes stare into your own smoothly before they break away. Nikto clears his throat, fingers twitching as more bits and bobs are polished. “DNA does not match those found on the letters from your lockbox. It is illegal to falsely detain someone for over forty-eight hours. He will be released unless further evidence is discovered.”

It’s a slow moment before you swallow down the sharp disappointment in your gut, attention darting from the silent Russian to the table.

“Oh.”

Nikto’s muscles tense the longer this silence permeates, eyes unconsciously darting back from his gun to you. After a long while, he sighs aggressively, dropping the rag and the slide he had been polishing without thought as it thumps to the table.

“Птичка,” he turns, and you blink back to him just to notice the instant tension as your eyes lock.

Such grays and blacks make up his being, that you wonder if color even mattered when it came to him—you already know those shades of in-between things, and Nikto could certainly be described as in-between. The activities of the storage room flash behind your vision, and your lips part softly.

But something isn’t right.

You’d thought that maybe Nikto would always be something of a blank slate to you—obviously, you could tell when he was frustrated and such, but anything beyond that was still up to your imagination. But it’s especially telling when you can understand the way he hesitates to touch you when his hand rises.

The limb moves to your bicep before the Russian drops it back down, turning back to his rag, and gets back to work with the lines beside his eyes visible as if grimacing. Beyond the anxiety, and the paranoia, you find the hurt burns sharper than those two ever could.

Not to mention the uncertainty.

You stare openly for upwards of three minutes, hesitant with the white noise in your brain overtaking your thoughts.

Nikto’s head is thumping—attacking every ounce of common sense to be found. The picture on his phone; the implications. The stalker wasn’t Sergi, because Sergi was at this very moment still detained and had been since last night…how could he tell you that? A man who was already horrible with words, so used to barking out his true feelings to soldiers and civilians alike. He can’t be that with you. Not anymore. He doesn’t want to be. But he’s stubborn—he’s prideful. Arrogant. It’s easier for him to figure it out himself than burden you, and in many ways, you were the same beast.

Mutt, mutt, mutt. Golden chains around supple flesh.

Nikto opens and closes his mouth many times, not knowing how your heart is cracking piece by piece; so averse to speaking about yourself. He’d left while you were still asleep to make the phone call himself to your investigators, not able to stare at your face any longer or feel your flesh. It had made his attention slip, and his focus fail.

The lack of control where he already had so little. He couldn’t take it, and in that, he felt dirty. Tainted.

The knowledge that someone had a picture of you in perhaps the most vulnerable moment he’d ever seen you in was worse, still. Like the blood on his hands was smearing itself over you, dipping along your waist and hips; sinking its dripping knuckles into the tight clutch of your welcoming walls. Fingerprint marks over your navel, clawing.

Nikto flinches subtly in his seat, a low sound echoing in the back of his throat. He wishes he’d never known the color of blood if only to not be able to imagine it along your pretty skin.

The Russian had only been thinking about it when you were sleeping, a slow infection seeping in as it always did—the stalker had been just behind him and he hadn’t heard a thing. The thought was enough to nearly make him vomit.

It was an utter disgrace to his skills.

He can’t be distracted anymore; not now. Not when he feels the fingers digging into his scars, the cuts, the drags of knives, and the burn of fire. He needs that control back. Some semblance of stability.

You try not to show how much you’re taken aback—how much Nikto’s sudden distance is a physical pain to you. The dead air settles, and you feel your pulse through your skin like a wound.

“...Anything else, Nikto?” Your voice is deathly still. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you had pushed something too far.

“...Нет.” The Russian’s fingers are hovering over the pieces of his gun, dismantled and laid bare to the overhead light of the blinding hotel. This place is cold; sterile. You’d said it before and you’d say it again—this was not a place you’d want to live. Now…even less so. Nikto clears his throat as you stand jerkily, sending a glance that lands on your throat and not your eyes. “There is nothing.”

You nod quickly.

“Good. I’m, uh,” your tongue wets your lips, and pale eyes try not to follow the motion even as he finds it like a siren call. Control. “I’m glad. I’ll figure out the details about the party tonight and get back to you.”

Nikto’s shoulders froze, but by the time his damaged brain had caught up with his mouth, you were already back in the bedroom and shutting the door with a soft hand.

A blue gaze sticks to the barrier, but not a single sound creates so much of an echo as the seconds draw into minutes.

“Enough,” Nikto orders himself, turning back to the table. Lips shifting into a deep frown, there’s little in the way of understanding his own actions, but wasn’t that the norm? Distance lets him think—thinking means solutions. Solutions for you; solutions for him.

But the feeling of your warm flesh is addictive, and there are moments in between the flashes of bloodshed that circulate when your brushing fingertips scrape down his back—a bear to a deer, but now he’s not too sure which is which. There’s a need to consume and eat down sustenance until his face is bloody and raw again, that half of a Glasgow smile ripped open and hanging, brutality ingrained into his psyche by way of pain and pleasure.

You touching him was both.

Being near you was both.

Knowing about that picture he’d been sent was worse than the former.

Nikto had thought to tell you, he’d been getting better with that, but then he’d truly thought it over and in his own way wanted you to be safe from just one more violation. It was how he was—a silent, brutish, mutt-like hired gun. He was smart, though.

And, damn him, he liked it when you smiled.

“Focus on the task,” he grunts, his knuckles under his gloves surely white from how hard he handles the metal of his beretta, stress cleaning even if he doesn’t know it—doesn’t acknowledge it.

His tight-pupiled eyes keep dragging themselves back to the door.

—

The hotel stayed in a suffocating silence even as the stylists came and went. They didn’t say a word as the hours lengthened—nervous, if you had to guess. The story of ‘the guard who snapped a man’s wrist in one motion’ had made its rounds quickly; gossip always on loose tongues.

You’d had a call with Fedorov. You think you had only gotten through it because you’d dug your nails so hard into your hand, that the initial scrape of cartilage had distracted you from the threat of being fired. The beady-eyed CEO had been less than pleased, and that was all you wanted to comment on; to even think about.

“I’ve heard troubling things, Seraph. Very troubling. What is this about your guard? I had thought we had come to an understanding about it. Tight leash, yes?”

Your fingers skate the smooth front of the newest dress you’ve been given, and you play with the dangle of cold metal around your fingers. Rings. You don’t know if they’re gold or silver, nor the gems set into them, but you know they’re elegant—just as the fabric you wear is.

There’s no great slit here, not in this form-fitting sleeve of white. Two pieces of fabric move up to cover your breasts and meet at a collar around your neck of the same silk, the train extending from the back of that collar that trails the ground. Lace, of course. Your shoulders are bare, just as a good ninety percent of your back is; only stopping at the small of your back where the fabric is once more tight to you. Pearls and feathers create a beaded version of a corset, tantalizingly caressing your bare flesh.

Your first thought is that you’ll freeze in this, but the second is how you’re going to walk in the heels—a silk strap looping your ankle before a big bow meets your eyes.

And the third is even worse.

“I think I’m losing my job tonight,” you whisper, blank-faced and knowledgeable of Nikto once more waiting where he had been before. A vicious repeat, a hopeless deja vu.

A pawn in someone else's game.

Your fingers tap your abdomen in broken intervals. There had to be a way out of this, you try to tell yourself.

Think.

But your mind always drifts back to the damn ex-soldier that’s in the living room. His attitude today—his distance from you was like taking a bullet to the gut. You should be celebrating the detainment of Sergi, of possible breakthroughs even if the DNA didn’t match.

The baker’s boy knew something, that was a fact.

But nothing. No joy—no jokes or sarcasm.

As you look at yourself now, you can only now recognize the expression of utter defeat you wear so plainly like a burial shroud. This was a cruel game. But there was something truly frightening about how close you and Nikto had become in such a relatively short period. Akin to soulmates finding one another, except for the simple fact you didn’t believe that was what the two of you were anymore.

It had been a brief hope, truly. But one that you’d wanted more than anything, and you don’t know why. You don’t know why you let him touch you; let him be so near—it runs around your brain to speak itself in tongues just like the rest. Problem after problem.

One at a time, you turn and exit the room, not looking at yourself longer than you have to.

Nikto stands stiff by the door, already in his suit and balaclava—M13 and Beretta back where they belong respectively. The knife, you have no clue, though you know it’s somewhere.

There are no compliments from the two of you. No speaking. So quickly something flipped on its head. Pale eyes dart, but when they meet yours, drip and drag away to the coat rack as you grab for your jacket. As your attention tries not to linger, you see him momentarily peel back his eyelids at the sight of your elegant dress but say nothing beyond a garbled sigh.

The air was so thick, that it was nearly enough to display how idiotic and childish the two of you were for acting like this.

You open your mouth and push out, “Ready to go?”

In the hours you’d taken to get ready, the Russian had come up with a plan.

He nods to you now and opens the door, allowing you out as he stays behind, making sure the lock clicks as you glance over your shoulder. Beginning to walk with him just a foot away, Nikto runs over his idea once more.

With any hope, the stalker now had a personal vendetta against him for getting physically involved with you—he’d been looking up studies in his spare time while you were getting dressed; tapping his fingers along his phone stiffly.

Only one sentence stood out to him, and it still stands out now as you go to wait in the elevator ahead of his looming form, eyes to the ground and hand massaging the back of your head.

‘Stalkers like to get their target isolated; they’re selfish. They want the person all to themselves and dislike anyone who can possibly get in the way of that. Whether it’s a romantic partner, family, or friends, if they pose a roadblock for the stalker it can result in added stress or an urgency to act.’

Nikto moves to stand beside you, shoving a firm finger to the ground floor button and glaring at the wall, lips stiff from under fabric.

If the man would come after him, then it would get you out of the spotlight at least for a short amount of time—perhaps it would even be enough to catch him.

Maybe tonight, Nikto wonders silently, eyes narrowing as his feet settle. He will be there. We need to be ready.

Your lungs breathe down a slow breath, taking in oxygen until your chest rises with the swell like a bag in the wind. This feeling is something you don’t know if you’ve experienced before beyond the sensation of having to relearn your limbs after your accident; an expectation and a draw, something just there but out of sight.

Inebriating instability.

Instead of your hands being shaky, now your mind was.

Nikto is so close—so there beside you. You wanted to reach out to him, to hang off of his arm. To be something. It was pathetic of you, especially after he’d already assured you that you both would deal with the uncomfortableness of your prior affair.

Was this his way of dealing with it? Avoidance? He didn’t seem the type, and you’d already known that he wasn’t.

So it’s bigger, your face pulls in. But what? Why this…hesitation?

Your eyes spark.

Hesitation, no. In the elevator, your arms tense as the small sound of the metal box meeting the ground floor echoes; Nikto also darts his head up, deep in his thoughts. You both share an unexpected side-eye, before the doors open and you hurry out on unstable feet as your face burns. This is fear.

“What are you afraid of?” You whisper to yourself, hearing those boots behind you.

At the Russian’s unease, you find your own doubling just as simply.

Who could make a bear afraid of the forest?

—

As you enter the party, you go about business and try not to stay on the fact that you have just gone through one of the most uncomfortable car rides you’ve ever experienced.

Passing off your jacket and hearing the doors close behind you, your curated smile dims to an imitation of happiness, shoulders drooping.

Nikto had only touched your arm to guide you along the sidewalk to this more humble residence—not at all like the previous party you’d been to. Every step and click off your heels had welcomed the same nervousness, however.

You still didn’t know what you were going to do, but right now, it was more important to just calm yourself to a state of taking it moment by moment. If it all came down to it, would you need Nikto to guard you again? Order him to break more bones? Welcome the spray of black fluid and gray meat?

“Nikto,” you address the Russian as he blinks over, fixing his hold on his M13. He doesn’t like this either—he doesn’t understand why you don’t listen to him and go to events like this. Nonetheless, he’ll follow and steer you clear of any situations you shouldn’t be in. It was his job to watch you, not force your hand.

Pale eyes level with you before they go to survey the foyer. “What is it?”

“When all of this is over,” you utter, walking forward. “What will you do?”

The Russian pauses, heart stuttering. What would he do? That wasn’t the question he thought you were going to ask, but it’s a welcome distraction from the mess of his head.

“Go back to KorTac,” he breathes, elbow brushing yours with his voice like rocks. “The contract will be over. I will not be needed anymore, да?”

You tilt your head, licking at the corner of your lips to push back the bead of fear that had settled into your stomach. “That makes sense,” your mind pulls a flat-falling tease. “But who will tell me what color of the paintings on the wall?”

Nikto’s hidden face is a stiff reflection of your own, scars tight. It’s a strange thing, he understands, the pressure on his chest that grows stronger. He’s so used to keeping secrets…why was this so hard for him?

“The blonde woman will be at your side, no doubt,” he grumbles, looking away from the image of your beauty and the silk of your dress. “She will tell you. I am not the only one able to understand the need for it.” Those feathers and pearls make a strung corset of utter angelic purity.

Blood on my hands.

He’d already tainted you enough, hadn’t he? When did sex suddenly become important to him? Weighted with…with care. There were so many times he could carelessly get his fill and leave with nothing mattering to him—just another way to get off and forget the formalities of waking up next to someone and making breakfast.

But wasn’t that exactly what Nikto had willingly done with you? Willingly sat near you for breakfast, willingly allowed you to coax him into bed to be a pillow, willingly touched you? Like a loyal beast, he had. He had.

You were a horrible creature. A beautiful, lovely, creature. Disgusting. Awe-inducing. As holy and as blasphemous as all of the monsters that sit on his shoulders; the ones he cannot name.

Nikto’s fingers pull into soft fists, and his gloves stretch. He grunts as your face falls a bit at his reply, your head nodding as he clenches his jaw until his molars scream.

You were messing with his head again. It wasn’t like he wanted you to not understand his motives—he needed to focus.

“I didn’t think Iakov was like that,” you change the subject as you both awkwardly move into the party, voices moving along the airwaves as you enter the large living room. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Men like that care about money and power,” Nikto answers, keeping your body nearest to the wall as he sticks to your right. “He will never forgive you for letting him lose it.” Pale eyes jump from one set of curious gazes to another. “It is not in his nature. Waste of skill.”

“Isn’t money what everyone wants?” You mutter, staying close to him and nodding politely at those who look your way with digging gazes. “That's why I’m here.”

“You are not the same,” is the swift answer, shifting vision stilling on a man with blond hair that moves through the crowd, camera sitting around his neck as dark eyes meet Nikto’s own. The guard blinks, and the individual is lost to the crowd.

Looking at you, the Russian’s eyes narrow. “You are not selfish, did we not explain ourselves enough earlier?”

“You said I was good,” you explain slowly. Not good enough to keep?

“I did,” Nikto grunts. “I say what I mean. We do not lie.”

“Too prideful for that,” your mouth pulls into a smile. “Aren’t you, Big Guy?”

His eyes swirl, low amusements littering the pale orbs like a sly cat. “Да, вот именно.”

You huff, not understanding the words, but knowing they’re agreeing with you. It’s as if a glass wall is dissecting the space between your bodies. You can see Nikto—hear him and feel his presence, but you can’t touch him; can’t get the smudges off without a rag. A blurry mess of black and white, not a slash of color to be understood.

This separation was thin but still there.

“What aren’t you telling me?” You have to finally push as you stop near the back of the room, as far away from anyone as possible, but it isn’t at all private. Eyes turn and fingers shift over wine glasses. It was quieter here, too. Not so blatant in its display of choking wealth, but still rich if decor was anything to go off of.

Nikto’s amusement vanishes instantly, and he’s back to a careful blankness.

Stopping as well, he only waits a second before uttering, “I do not tell you many things, Seraph.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you bounce off of him, hands moving up to motion softly as your face twists. Shame hits you in the chest, and you take a shaking breath. “...I knew it would end up being like this if you found out about all of it. All your job stated was a simple protection contract, not some—”

You stop yourself.

Pale eyes don’t blink once as they keep themselves tight to you. Nikto lets his mind calm before he speaks. “Why are we here?”

Your brows shift, and you open and close your mouth. “I don’t know. I’m hoping my boss might give me some credit for just showing up and not—”

“Then we are going now,” he growls, attention flying from one prying person to the next. There are too many eyes here—too many ears. Nikto knows who might be lurking.

“Why,” you lightly push back, chuckling sarcastically. “I’m not in any danger, Nikto. At every turn, there aren’t any stop signs at the side of the road—at least here I have a grab at good wine and company that doesn’t hide the truth from me.”

Pale eyes flare. People start to turn your way. There’s a pause as if there’s something the Russian wants to state, but it fails on lips that you barely see rise from under his balaclava.

“I told you I do not lie, woman,” Nikto grunts, stature ridgid from where it spreads like a steady corruption; a shadow lengthening.

You had always avoided confrontation—always. You hated it, and, currently, you hated this as well. But the stress was getting to you, the threat of losing everything on top of your own life. Nikto had become a lifeline, and now he was trying to pull back.

Why?

Your face turns, and you stalk away. “Then do me a favor and stop telling me half-truths.”

—

If steam were able to come out of your ears, you would have filled the room with that heavy layer of your anger. Nikto was still stapled to you—unable to leave after what he now understood might come to fruition at these events if he did.

So, you both stood.

Silent.

Stoic.

Unsatisfied.

A dog without a bone left longingly glancing as if its eyes could speak all the words that needed to be explained on a human tongue.

Your hands push at the base of your skull, massaging the forming headache that had grown from when Iakov had let himself into your hotel. You can’t wait until these parties are over—until you can get another call from the investigators saying that your stalker has been apprehended with Sergi’s statements. There needed to be a happy ending to this; needed.

This can’t be all your life is meant to be.

You didn’t come here thinking that you would be sleeping with someone. Currently, as you’re sipping down the second glass of wine brought to you, you can see the head of the man you’re supposed to be attending to.

Borya Belov, or something close to that. Your coordinator had sent a text, but you’d barely looked at it and the picture attached. Large and middle-aged, he was up and coming in the city, generating impressive amounts of money and influence through his iron and steel plants. He knew your CEO, too—old family friends.

Your eyes tear themselves away before he can look in your direction, frowning heavily. A rock and a hard place.

You were foolish if you thought that by you being here it would allow you to keep your job without handing yourself over. It seems you’ve been foolish a lot lately. Your gaze sneaks to look at Nikto and only finds a rigid pole in his place. No under-the-breath jokes or knowing glances. No indecipherable emotions. It was just blank.

Shaking your head lightly, you bring the wine glass to your lips and take a large sip, letting the swell of it fill your mouth before it slips into your throat; tasting the bitter edge. With all of the blatant mess of emotions, it wasn’t any wonder why anyone hadn’t come over to talk to you.

“All of these things are the same,” you speak to yourself quietly, trying not to sweat as Nikto’s body shifts closer when Iakov walks past the two of you stiffly. The pale-haired man sends you a dark look and you bite your tongue, eyelids narrowing with unease.

Get dressed, speak gossip, get used, repeat.

Already the trap had settled, routine following like a pet.

Your fingers run over the glass in your hand, nails dragging as Nikto’s eyes stare from the side, thighs tightening before he rips his attention back to the party. He grunts and tilts his head, shoulders rolling.

Focus.

It’s in the atmosphere of a taut rope that you hear the thin conversation from not that far away.

“Look at him.”

Your ears quirk, but you don’t think of it much as you drink down the last dredges of your wine, licking at the corner of your mouth—careful of the lipstick. It was a group of women all turned into one another, muttering quickly and giggling even more so.

“Which one?”

“The big bastard, obviously. How much do you think he eats, hm? I’m betting an entire kitchens worth a day.”

Pausing, your spine slowly begins to straighten up, face stuck staring into the wall far across the room.

“I bet he’s hideous under all of that. Look at the mask—see?”

The round of muffled laughter behind silken gloves makes your heart jerk inside of your ribs as one of the photographers passes by Nikto and you, fiddling with his camera in his hands.

Beside you, the Russian either hears what’s going on and ignores it, or can’t and is simply not moving because he found someone in the crowd to pay attention to.

Looking over now, you’d place your bet on the first.

Nikto’s eyes are void, tiny pupils stuck in on themselves as he stares at nothing—his M13 is strangled under the grip of black gloves, and that little sliver of skin you see from his wrist has visible tension in it. He cracks his neck silently, sets his feet, and pretends.

Watching as he’s so apt to do to you, your anger-ridden face steadily freezes the longer your ears strain themselves to hear above the clink of glasses and useless chatter. Work and pleasure are zapped from your mind.

“You think so?”

“I am willing to bet on it—a thing like that is hiding its face because it has to. No soulmate, either. Go up and speak to him; I want to see.”

“But…what if he does have a soulmate? That woman beside him, isn’t that the one from Yekaterinburg? They could be—”

Nikto’s fingers twitch, eyes flashing.

“If I had a soulmate that had to hide his face from me, I would think he was a beast. No one would want to be within five feet of that.”

Few things made you angry.

Liars, cruelty, and the rest of the normal points that were on the list everyone keeps. But there was something particularly special about how you hated someone talking about Nikto like that. Forget him hiding something from you, forget his distance and his inability to speak about his emotions—you still cared about him deeply. The words he’d said to you, how he carries himself; his blunt honesty.

Your heels are hitting the ground before you can remember you’re here to not make a scene.

“Excuse me,” you say, slipping into an easy smile as you nearly trip over your own feet as you settle near the group. All of their eyes widen, some turning around to lock gazes with the sudden arrival. “Could you repeat yourself for me?” You chuckle without humor. “I swear I had thought I heard you talking about my guard over here.”

Your chin moves to allow your eyes to settle over your shoulder, looking back at Nikto who had walked two steps after you initially before seeing where it was you were stomping to. His wide eyelids are snapped back like book covers, darting from you to the women as if utterly confused.

“That one,” you point casually before turning back. “The, uh,” your body leans a bit closer, hand coming up to your grinning mouth, “beast.”

The gray shade on some of their faces darkened, a few stuttering through a Russian and English jumble of words.

You blink at them as a familiar shadow begins to sit over you, heavy boots connecting to the floor. Your face burns, but there’s truth in your words—in your conviction.

“Seraph,” Nikto says quietly in warning.

“One moment,” is the response he gets. Pale eyes are stuck to the back of your head. He doesn’t know what to do, but in his throat, there’s an airy feeling stuck there that he can’t describe. It swells in his chest first, spreading through his veins.

Nikto was always used to being the one to stand in front of you.

His heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop—that it doesn’t matter. The bigger question he should be asking is if he wants you to. The man wasn’t unused to comments. He can take it. But that fire behind your eyes rendered him speechless.

“His name is Nikto,” you say firmly. “Not that I expect you to remember it,” you tilt your head, looking them up and down. “In fact, I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

Huffing, you’re acutely aware of everyone watching, and your previous anxiety over your work is null. Disgust breeds like death flies.

None of this was worth it.

“Nikto,” you utter purposefully, setting your glass down on a side table and stepping behind. One of the Russian’s hands hovers over your back, the weapon resting on his chest clicking as it shifts. “We’re leaving. I don’t know why we came in the first place. There are more important things to worry about.”

“...Understood,” he levels, voice deep. Nikto blinks a few times, face under his mask layered with heat. There was no focusing when it came to you—his iron will was being smoothed down like a rock in water.

You push past Borya Belov without a glance, looking to the side to see a shock-stricken Iakov burning you with his orbs. There was nothing for you here.

Heels clicking over the floor, your dress ripples out behind you, unable to think beyond the deep insult you had taken on Nikto’s behalf. What gave those women the right to say anything? Especially about his appearance.

When physical looks meant so much to you, you dreaded that being placed on someone else as well. Even if it was apparently obvious that Nikto suffered just as you did.

“You did not have to do that, Птичка.” A hand grasps your upper arm and guides you away from the table you were about to run into as you both enter the hallway stiffly. “It does not affect us. Useless opinions—they do not reflect my character.” Jumping only slightly from being ripped from your thoughts, your head darts over.

You frown into a hidden face, Nikto stuck on the site of your pulled expression.

Cute, he silently thinks in that jumbled mess of a brain before his memories flash to the sight of that picture on his phone. The hand leaves you in an instant, moving back to his M13.

“I know I didn’t,” you breathe sharply, shaking your head. Closing your eyes, your shoes halt as you stop.

Nikto follows suit, pausing before turning back with a furrow of his brows.

It’s a special thing, the way your desperation bleeds into your sentence. “Will you tell me what’s going on with you, or not?”

He stares, body pausing under your attention.

“Nikto,” you breathe, far enough away from the main living room to indulge in a bit of horrific truth. “I like being with you,” your words slip. “I mean with you, with you. Y’know? I like you near me—watching over me. I don’t want this to become something that jeopardizes what we’ve built up. I’m not asking for a relationship, or even for you to tell me that you care about me, I just…” you fail to finish, eyes breaking off to glare at the floor; fighting against the sting. “You’re making my head spin,” your words dip lower, and Nikto flinches. “Just…tell me what’s wrong. You’re not acting right, and you’re worrying me.”

You don’t think you’ve been looked at this intently before now. Not by boyfriends, not by flings, or crushes. It’s a bare thing, Nikto’s eyes. A landscape of pale gray tundras and white snow—you don’t know what he’s thinking as he stands there like some Greek statue; Aries personified and dropped right in front of you.

You want that blood of his, that malice and incurable damage. Not to fix it—not to change what’s already scored into flesh—but just to see those eyes soften as they had a handful of times before.

A war god and a white bird.

Nikto’s throat bobs in a slow swallow as you finish, pulse hammering as his gloves suddenly constrict his hands far too much. He doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to explain why his distance is more for his benefit than yours.

You push once more.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“You.” He grunts stoic-like, and all of it falls into a swift silence thereafter. Your breath is taken on one great rapturous theft. Nikto stares as your jaw slackens, mind going blank.

He darts his eyes away and tilts his head.

“...Come. We do not want to be here any longer.” The Russian’s body is next to yours and in a fast movement, you find yourself being gently prodded along to the front door, jacket grabbed from the side of it and settled over your shoulders.

Grasping at the corners, this moment is verging on irreparable—you’ve never found yourself so thrown off course besides when the inevitable advances from the stalker had come to you.

Your hands shake in unsteady intervals as you blankly stare ahead.

Me?

The car is cold when you get into it, pulling your jacket closer as you slip across the seat—Nikto grabbing the long trail of your dress and making sure it stays inside. The man sits next to you, grabbing and slamming the door with a fist thumping the window twice.

Under you both, the engine starts up and the tires push against the concrete.

Your eyes ogle Nikto, and not once do they leave them even as the Russian pointedly ignores you by keeping his head locked forward. His body moves to the turning of the car, and your phone in your jacket pocket is going wild with call after call as his feet shift to steady himself unconsciously. It’s all a blur of needless sound and emotion.

“Me?” Your voice finally finds itself; breathless.

Nikto doesn’t react, spine so straight, the seats of the vehicle don’t touch anything. His fingers over his gun twitch before he grasps the cold metal harder to stop them.

The Russian tries to halt the way his eyes want to gravitate to meet yours, trying to think over every face from the party and who had made any attempts to get near to you; just in case something pops up tonight. Yet, the hitting pain in his ribs is akin to something ripping them open with a fork, mutilating an entrance to his heart just to take and grasp it in soft hands.

He was never taught gentle love. Nikto was taught to grab and rip at it, to claw into it with fangs until there was blood on his face, seeping down his throat to settle in his stomach—hoping it might find a way to spread to his soul.

Iakov had a key, the man catalogs, trying to fight his quivering fingers as you just can’t seem to look away from him with those eyes of yours. Does he have motive? Perhaps. We need to add him to the list regardless. I did not see any repeating faces from last night here unless they were in another room or waiting outside.

Pale attention briefly pauses to the driver of the car, strong jaw clenching.

Drivers? Stylists? Who else could be here and not be noticed even by me?

Eyes flash to the previous party again, back to the crunch of bone under his grip. Hands trailing flesh, ripped lace, and silk that pools at his dress shoes. The feral rubbing of a gun between two panting bodies. It should have been enough stress relief for the both of you—Nikto wasn’t lying when he equated the affair to something he could look past. He wasn’t new to flings; he considered himself a master of them in his youth. It wouldn’t have made him think any differently about the job, except for that one pin-pointed problem:

He was right behind us.

Nikto’s mouth goes dry, anger brewing. He blinks to stare out the window, and your gaze is still present as if a knife to his throat.

It doesn’t leave once.

—

The hotel room is seeped in an eerie level of silence.

You’d long since called Iakov—said a firm and swift answer of, “I’m done with the parties,” and hung up before the yelling could start again.

You’re not even sure if you still have your job at AMA, but that’s for a later date, it seems. Not having an income was worse than the emotional turmoil that had settled right on your chest.

Leaning in the window seat of the bedroom, you keep your legs tucked in close to you with the curtain stuck at your back, head resting against the glass. White lights twinkle, but the places that aren’t illuminated are too dark to focus on—an amalgamation of shadows like a veil. The night was always difficult for you and your sight, but right now you think it’s best to just sit here and stare, even if it’s at nothing.

Your eyes drag slowly along the thin view of the street below, feeling the cold seep in through the glass, softly easing the headache that pulses at your temple.

“He’s…afraid of me?” The door to the room is slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the living room making its way in. Your face twists. “What does that mean?”

You pose no threat to him without something like a gun, so it couldn’t be that. And what had changed since this morning? He’d let you lay next to him—see a part of his face. You’d traced his tattoo with willing fingers; Nikto hadn’t pushed you away then.

What had happened?

There’s a small squeak of the metal hinges of the bedroom door, and your head rises quickly.

Nikto stands there, in only a white button-down shirt and his dress pants; normal mask re-stiuated. Blinking gently, a thick pause emanates before you glance down at his hands and see a soft display of an olive branch.

The gruff hired gun holds a tiny, white, tea-cup.

“Magnolia,” he huffs, not moving an inch as he motions with his hand, the ceramic material clinking.

You stare, oversized shirt all to cover you besides your undergarments. You’d long since lost the sense of embarrassment of bare skin—particularly yours.

Pale eyes slip to caress the image of your flesh bathed in the sliver of warm light, your curious eyes stuck on him as his feet re-situated themselves.

“You remembered?” You ask, trying to sound casual beyond the surprise.

Nikto blinks, voice muffled. “I do not forget when it comes to you,” he hums, accent thick. “Drink.”

Softly standing, your bare feet hit the coldness of the floor, yet you feel it little. Walking over to stand in front of him, your hand reaches only to bounce off the small tea plate instead, fingers flinching back lightly from the miscalculation. Your face heats, and you’re about to utter a quick apology before Nikto’s hand captures yours.

Gasping under your breath, the warmth that seeps through his glove goes bone-deep as he manually wraps your digits around the handle. Nikto grunts in satisfaction and lets you take it to you, keeping the plate which he lowers his hand with.

After a moment, you clear your throat and say while staring down at the liquid, “Where did you get this?”

“Bag.” Your brows tighten.

He sighs gently. “We packed it. You forgot, yes?”

“Oh,” you nod. “Yeah, I didn’t even realize I had left it behind. Thank you, Nikto.”

The Russian nods once, and then pivots to walk back to the living room, leaving you standing there as the sound of rummaging items in the kitchen echoes. Holding the mug, the tea rippling under your unsteady grasp, your head shakes itself in slow exasperation. The man wouldn’t talk about this unless you pushed him…but would that break the unsteady relationship you’d been trying to build?

“All of this is so confusing,” your lips mutter before your body follows after Nikto, slipping out into the light of the room as you blink rapidly in response.

Locking sights on Nikto as he cleans up the counter, your form is wracked with an impending sense of nervousness. Damn him and his mask—you didn’t have something you could hide your emotions behind.

It was times like these when you wished your mother was warm enough to ask advice from, that your father wasn’t back in the USA with limited involvement due to the peaceful contact order. You were alone here, except for Aly. But this was something that only a parent could help you with, and you were fresh out of those. You doubted that your mom knew everything going on—you weren’t about to tell her you’d allowed a ruthless killer to get you off in a storage room after you’d seen him snap a man's wrist back.

Nor that you enjoyed it.

It falls on me, your breath is thin as you breathe it down, steadily moving to set the teacup to one of the many tables holding useless decorations. You scowl at the boring interior design unconsciously before your focus locks in.

What you had to do was bring up your points clearly and smoothly—

“Why are you standing there doing nothing,” your eyes widen as Nikto fluidly turns to look over his shoulder directly at you. His gaze narrows behind Kevlar and canvas. “If you want to say something, speak.”

“I want you to tell me what’s gotten you acting like a constipated bear,” you blurt out.

It’s almost funny the way his eyes flinch.

Nitko grinds out, “We do not understand.”

“You do,” you huff, crossing your arms as your voice bounces off the walls. “I don’t have infinite patience, believe it or not.” Inside of your sockets, you feel your gaze soften; voice lowering to the level you’d raised it. “I think I’ve been honest with you, Nikto. I’m not trying to push you into a corner. You know that. I need an explanation,” you take a breath, “and you’re going to give it to me.”

Pale eyes move to the side, and you visibly see the large Russian’s body fighting itself both internally and externally. You had noticed a few things from the time you’d come under his protection, some obvious—Nikto valued cooking and a clean place to rest; he liked reading, and a silence built on mutual respect. Nikto’s fingers twitched when he was either nervous or trying to focus. He tilted his head when he needed to think.

You liked to think that you knew him quite well, despite it all. You especially knew his fraying patience.

Nikto’s shoulders roll, bones cracking from under the button-up. His masked face is the only thing he feels gives him protection. A cover.

“It is not something,” the man begins slowly, trying to convince you, “that you need to concern yourself with.”

Your lips thin out, feet taking you forward as you shiver from the cold of the hotel.

“Nikto,” you utter again, softly knocking your side into the counter before you can stand in front of him yourself. He looks down at you, chest moving up and down in slow breaths.

You know the horrors that live under that fabric. The great scars—the burns that had slipped into your dreams as you’d laid on his thigh like a child afraid of the dark. You can remember the dips of them under your fingertips; the trauma that bleeds still.

You’d called him beautiful, and of course you had, but the very base of it still left you cold with a betraying sense of sickness. Same with the lower half of his face, which you’d only chosen to see a glance of. It was a deep rolling of your stomach. You cared more for the marks he had put on, willingly, himself; the tattoos. Dark ink.

But that didn’t stop you from reaching out to him—responding to that addictive pull that had always seemed to be there from the moment you’d first met him in the Consulate Building.

Your fingers hover over Nikto’s pec, right above his heart as you swallow saliva and stare with parted lips. Piercing eyes give way to nothing, but there’s a knowledge in the heart that beats above your waiting touch.

You tilt your head and wait silently.

Nikto’s pulse moves his flesh, and he can feel every drop of blood under his skin.

“It does not need to be explained to you,” he tries again, his firm words now only comparable to the sensation of rocks thrown along the sand. Salt-stained throat raw as your fingers brush his shirt. “Seraph,” Nikto attempts a tone of authority.

“Call me by the other one,” you mutter, and it’s pathetic the way he responds to your request in that hotel kitchen. Like a soldier following an order. A whining little dog beholden to a white-lace collar.

“Птичка.”

Your smile makes him want to rip himself away from you and take a cold shower, maybe stare at his scars; even break his mind again before it slips away to thoughts of your curling lips and your shining eyes.

“That’s it,” you whisper, and your hand flattens over his heart as his gaze breaks away to the simple contact, blinking in confusion as his flesh pulls tight. “That’s the one.”

But he was more surprised when he didn’t flinch rather than when he shivered.

It’s only after a small moment of nothing that he lets himself bathe in the warmth of your skin and the scent of your perfume as it slips under his mask. A mask that has seen far too much death for you to bear. Then he’d want you to bear.

Your words make his bones ache.

“Tell me,” you urge, as perfect as a bird’s dew-coated feathers.

Nikto’s vision is stuck only to you, and his greatest fear is that this is all it will ever be bound to—not by honor, the man had no such thing, but by utter devotion. There was no lying about it now as his lips parted, those cut and torn-up things like a ragged jigsaw puzzle of pain. He cares not about soulmates or brain trauma. Blood or bile.

He cares about the sound a silent grave will make when his bones are the ones that chain themselves to rest beside yours.

Mutt.

Now that, maybe, would seem an honor-coated title to carve into his corpse, but only if it was in reference to his affection for you.

“Picture,” Nikto grinds out, fighting to step closer to the addictive sensation of your touch. The warmth. The pound of blood. You listen silently, and not once do those eyes separate.

“Sent to my phone.” He pauses, and suddenly his voice is very low—you can feel it in your chest as it rumbles the walls, the floors; the bedroom door. It’s difficult to say how you feel when he explains it to you, there’s something relieving in knowing, though. Yet, it still makes your throat close in on itself. “Of us.”

“From the stalker?” You ask, already knowing the answer but hoping it might have just been a fluke.

Pale eyes don’t blink.

“Да. From him.”

You take a large breath, nodding as your fingers quiver over Nikto’s dress shirt, creasing the fabric slightly. He takes a quick glance down at them again, and his own twitch at his sides.

“...Don’t tell me the details?”

“Never,” the Russian sighs, clenching his jaw. “Я бы этого не сделал. We did not want to explain, regardless.”

You shrug as well as you’re able, hand beginning to slowly slide off of him. “Still,” your lips pull into a steady smirk, though it lacks enough amusement to make it convincing. “I’m glad you told me—I was getting worried that it might have been by fault you were acting strange.”

“My emotions are,” Nikto struggles for the correct word in English, grunting as his mouth closes under his mask. He glares at the wall behind you as if a toddler without a snack.

You tilt your skull, tiny chuckles wafting out of your mouth.

“Stuck, Big Guy?”

“Enough,” he grumbles, feet re-situating themselves from under him.

Your hand is only a millimeter away from his flesh before his grip finds your wrist and brings it back, digits caressing to press into your pulse. You blink quickly, air getting stalled in your nose.

Nikto’s eyes slowly dip to stare at your hand, and you notice the shades even more clearly now that you’re so close to him—though they’d always just be pale gray to you, there were moments when you wondered the true color. A silly dream, seeing as you wouldn’t know how that color would look anyway, but, still.

The Russian’s large fingers turn your wrist.

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters. If having your bodyguard check your pulse was something that you found attractive, now was only the realization of it.

Your face suddenly feels like you’re walking on the sun, and a small noise in the back of your throat makes Nikto’s attention leave the fast thump of your blood.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Your breathless question eases out past your lips like a soft flutter of wings.

“Hm,” Nikto hums, and you can also see his throat bobbing. His hold squeezes, his face looming just the tiniest bit closer to yours.

The Russian takes a chest-rising inhale and speaks.

“I am not good,” he mutters, eyes moving the dips and drags of your face—it feels like his gaze is touching you when he stares like that; studying your visage as if he’d be tested on it. “We are not…” He blinks, and his pupils are small voids of inky corruption. “Perfect.”

You wonder how often he’d found you in his mind, and feel both foolish and hopelessly lost in his shadow.

“I never said you were,” you murmur back, seeing the wickedness in his heart. Painted on his skin. “I think it’s lovely.”

Here is where this should end—you’d both had your fun previously. You’d been sipping your sugar water like a little hummingbird; reveling in the intimacy of that storage room. You should be thinking about the stalker, about your job, about what will happen tomorrow when you open your eyelids to light through the curtains.

Not about how Nikto’s fingers would feel digging into your hips. Not the panting of fast breaths. Not how the color of his eyes would be, perhaps, the most beautiful shade you could ever hope to imagine in your damaged brain.

“Nikto,” you breathe, body light. He’s as still as a statue above you, not saying a thing. “What color are your eyes?”

“Blue.”

And then you’re being picked up as if a doll by the back of your thighs and hefted up with a throaty huff akin to a boar. Your forehead connects with his, and your arms wrap his neck to hang off with crossed wrists.

“Blue?” Your legs tighten around his waist, squeezing as the man’s nose pushes into yours. Breath bounces off the mask, your eyes flutter at the firm press of fabric prodding at your underwear. You fight a small whine, bodies tight to one another. “Your hair?”

“Brown,” is the puff from under the mask, and tiny pupils dilate the longer you hold eye contact.

Your hips roll, and Nikto’s strained grunt reverberates against your chest. “Tell me it in Russian.”

“Карие.” He growls, fingertips digging into your flesh like the teeth of a bear trap. Nikto thumps past the place where you’d set your tea, completely forgotten by everyone just like the previous tension was.

When the two of you were together, things managed to get out of hand quickly—at least, emotionally-wise. You both were utterly hopeless, just as the room was now far from the cold monochrome wash of white. It was bathed in spraying sparks lit behind your eyes when one of Nikto’s hands staples itself to the base of your back, just above the curve of your tailbone, and angles your core further into the growing prod of his erection.

You gasp as your pelvis jerks, face twisting up with your pulse impossibly increasing.

“You are curious,” Nikto pants, pushing past the bedroom door with a shoulder as the handle smashes into the wall. Not that you care. “You push me, Woman. Leave my head loose and my body aching.” You feel the way your core burns, aches, nearly, as your underwear gets wet with the anticipation of flesh.

Your lips sear Nikto’s soul when they push to the canvas of his mask—just as they had in the storage room though now it’s harder to feel.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Big Guy,” you whisper, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, eyes half-lidded.

That pull between the two of you only seems to increase as you’re dropped back to the bed, head pointedly planned to slap a pillow as you involuntarily gasp. Your shirt is ruffled up to your breasts, and the sheets are around you like a cocoon of expensive finery—eyes darting to Nikto, you find his gaze easily standing beside the bed.

He stares at you like you’re the greatest meal ever placed in front of him. Forget the items he cooks, forget the things he’d eaten, even forget the way it satisfies him; nothing could compare to even the thought of what he now has.

You’re staring at a man with blood on his hands and wishing he would spread you open already.

Nikto’s chest bounces with a pleased noise, gaze shifting to study your bare legs and arms—the stain that coats your underwear, spreading by the second as your thighs tighten in on themselves to trap the chill. Your face is on fire, and your lungs heave.

His ravaged hand grasps at your knee, coaxing them back open as he says a simple order with a raw voice, “Keep them open.”

You’re not embarrassed with how you listen, letting the limbs be forced back to display your instinctual need to the large Russian. Your thin whine is choked back as his fingers run up and down your clothed core, teasing.

Nikto chuckles, and you shiver.

“We do like it,” he breathes out in response to your previous comment. Pale eyes dart to find and lock with yours—not leaving as his index and middle finger find your clit, pressing firmly and lightly rocking up and down. Your hips jerk as you bite on a shocked moan, relishing in the sudden ricochets of electricity that run your bones.

Head tilting back, you bite your lip and pant out, “Nikto, yes.”

His fingers leave just as quickly as the words do you, and your desperate eyes move with near pain until your hand darts to grapple onto Nikto’s wrist like a cat. He lets you try and guide him back firmly, to no avail, before you grit your teeth and glare at him, opening your mouth.

Yet, the Russian’s hidden face finds your ear with no trouble and leaves your upcoming words frozen.

“But we like it better when you are too choked on pleasure to think at all.”

Nikto moves back, taking his other hand and making yours release him before he steps away. He blinks, watching your aroused state as you stutter over your sentence; smirking to himself and tilting his head as if you’re an exhibit in a museum. The man grunts, now free grip able to slide to his belt slowly and fiddle with the buckle.

“Y-you’re horrible,” you grumble, eyes unable to stay on the image for long before you have to slash it away so you can breathe. The clinking of metal

“We did warn you,” Nikto pauses, his voice so laced with smugness that it seemed an insult. “Птичка.”

Your lower body shifts, trying to satiate the urge for stimulation.

Breathing heavily, you raise your forearm and put it over your eyes, expression tight as you try and focus. Your ears twitch to Nikto’s steady undressing, hearing the pull of dress pants and the unclipping of a thigh holster. Each sound sends a pulse directly to your weeping slit, and it becomes so strong that Nikto can only watch as your other hand slips under the elastic of your panties.

He stops himself instantly, his eyes pulling back as he pauses. Slipped out of everything besides his shirt, boxers, and obviously his mask, Nikto’s shoulders tense wildly at the sight in front of him.

Your body is tight as you begin to breathe heavier, lips slightly open as your fingers idly roll your bundle of nerves a bit harder. Hips jerking every so often, your fingers stretch the fabric of your garment as your toes curl.

“Fuck,” you breathe, jaw clenching and eyes closed from under your forearm.

Nikto is firmly planted, the firmness in his boxers now seemingly to a point of no return—his fingers twitched to dig into your skin, his eyes stuck to how you were playing with yourself. Clothed in only a large shirt that was bunching up further to allow a glimpse of your breasts and hearing those tiny little noises escape your mouth…

“Harder,” Nikto grunts, his own hand slipping into his boxers as he hisses in pleasure at the state of himself. Firm in his grip as he wraps his fingers around the hot pulse of his cock, groaning when his thumb slips along his tip to collect the beads of pre-cum.

Your breath hitches and through your soft pants, you sigh as your arm slides, “I think I know how to—”

Your fingers twitch harshly as your eyes flutter open to lock onto the scene in front of you, causing you to moan before it strangles off with a quick noise in your throat. Eyes wide, you watch Nikto begin jerking himself off one slow stroke at a time, his thighs tense as his other hand moves to unbutton his shirt one at a time.

There was something so inherently intimate about seeing the other in the throws of self-pleasure, half-clothed and desperate for something that can’t be named. The chain of events was building, and some concerns needed to be addressed, but it isn’t fair to have to put your life on hold for them—necessary, yes, eventually. But Nikto’s eyes were so hellishly pale, and your hands were shaking, and the scent of sex was permeating inside of your nose. It’s different than the storage room, it’s hinged on the knowledge that this bear of a man is afraid of you, which in and of itself is unfathomable, and that he was in such a sour mood simply because he had been trying, once more, to spare you from the unseen threat.

He had done it with the birds in the box, he’d done it when you’d gotten the first pictures sent to you, and he did it every time he let you hang off of his arm.

You push your digits across your clit harder and whine out as Nikto’s open dress shirt slips to his waist, the cuffs rolled up as bare skin meets the darkness of the room. That sliver of light from the door was all that was needed, the barrier having slowly crawled its way back from where the Russian had shoved it, to witness the bulge and dip of scar tissue—the shades of hyperpigmentation.

And you wanted to drag your nails along all of them.

“Смотреть на себя,” Nikto’s chest heaves, the bulk of his frame just the same as when you’d touched along his back. His hand inside of his boxers stutters, and his eyes flinch closed for a moment, masked face tilted. “Хорошим слушателем. Good for us, hm?”

“Touch me,” you ask, unconsciously mirroring Nikto’s pace as the sensitivity of your core heightens, leaking out to stain your underwear to the point it’s no use to keep them after this. Your spine is tight—begging to be arched just as your cunt begs to be filled. It tightens over nothing, and you whimper with a push of thin breath. “Please, Nikto, you filled me so well last time.”

His eyes glint, that Russian pride bleeding to fill the cup in his abdomen. Nikto smirks, but you can’t see it above the large hand that goes to grip your face, angling it to him as his other hand continues with the wet slapping of his cock. You want to see it—you want to watch it. Damn him he’s making this into a game of cat and mouse.

“What is that? You like when we fill your tight cunt, Птичка?”

Your face burns, and your eyes study his own as your pace below increases—rotting wood taking root beside sweat and pheromones.

Nikto’s grip squeezes and you hear the rutting of flooded skin more clearly as he looms over your body, both fucking yourselves for no other reason than liking the sight and the sounds of the other.

“Answer.”

“Yes,” you stutter, unable to stop the thin noises from your mouth that follow—the cord in your abdomen pulling until taunt. “God, yes.”

“Not God,” the Russian chuckles before he groans, forehead connecting with yours as it rocks to the rabid abuse of his own hand, trying to imagine the sensation of your walls against them instead of his calloused fist. Your flesh would be softer than his ever could be, and the knowledge of that is enough to reduce him to a mindless beast. His breath hitches tightly, his hand moving rapidly, unconcerned about how fast his release is finding him just by hearing your little pleas. “No, Seraph, there is no God in this room.”

When he drinks down the sounds you give him he feels your body tense one final time, your lips flattening as your eyes flutter—only seconds away from your orgasm, perhaps.

Nikto’s hands leave your face, and so does his forehead. You barely notice, truth be told until it’s not a second later that fingers are gripping the hand down your panties and dragging it out just as your hips begin rising off the bed.

“No!” Your desperate keen echoes off the walls, eyes snapping open to rip your head down to the scene. Nikto was lacking his shirt, boxers are gone, and as he staples your arm beside your head, his body drags itself atop yours until his weight is as firm as stone. “Nikto, why did you—?”

“Hush,” he utters, knocking your leg up over his hip in a swift thrust that leaves the leaking tip of his dick prodding against your sopping cunt. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, painting only to have your breasts shove into a sweaty chest.

“So close,” you beg, the feeling of your release draining away, leaving you irritated and unsatisfied.

Your hips roll in a play to find friction, and the feeling of Nikto’s happy trail seems promising as you grind up into it, but there’s only so much you can do when the man’s other hand snags your waist and pushes you down.

You glare heatedly up into blown and smug eyes.

You know better than to ask him to remove the mask, and now that you look at it, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was something alluring in those eyes, set into the dark void around them, deadly and numb, yet showing more emotions than anyone else would be able to tell besides you.

“Let us help,” Nikto pushes himself up, grinding into your core as your glare breaks away into blown need. “I have something better than fingers. Show you how good it can be, yes? Show how you are supposed to be treated, Little Bird.”

Your hands slide up to his shoulder blades and he groans under his breath, taking in the sensation of nails along flesh, catching on the scars until they settle. Had he not imagined this before? Had he not fantasized? Desired? Sinful, yes, but he’d do it again if he could still feel the wet fluids of your arousal coating his abdomen. If this was the outcome of Nikto becoming locked in his own stoic emotions, there was a part of him that was greedy because of it.

There was no possible way that this was going to continue…right?

His ears twitch to your voice as your legs shift to wrap the top of his hips, dragging his pelvis ever closer until he’s fighting the wave of agony by not having your cunt pulse around him.

On your part, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.

“Then show me.”

It’s easy to slip the tip of himself inside of you—there’s enough fluid to render even the thought of dry friction impossible. Nikto's body shudders at the sensation, though it’s only a small portion of what you both need.

Your head rocks back, fingertips digging into the Russian’s shoulders as you both curse at the stretch of your folds. You hadn’t been able to gawk at the build of the man tonight—both too desperate for release—but thinking about how he gives small thrusts to help himself along, his eyes not moving from you unless to blink, you’d safely say he was well-endowed.

“Fuck,” your lips quiver, sweat at your brow. Through the whimper, you moan, a large thumb finding your clit and rolling as the sound of squelching echoes between the groans and whines. You’re both nothing but damn animals. “Could have,” you gasp, and Nikto stops before you shake your head and pull him closer. “Could have given a girl a warning, Big Guy.”

His strained chuckle only makes your core welcome him more, and the feeling of textured veins and warm flesh steadily driving itself home was addicting. Sex had never felt as fun as this. As safe.

Nikto made it safe.

“Apologies,” he grunts out, great form above you before you feel the nested base of his pelvis connect with yours.

You both shake and your face is open with a pleasure-driven emotion as the Russian slides his head to your shoulder, his breath echoing from under his mask into your ear. He licks his lips, grip on your waist and arm pulsing with steady intervals of—tense, release, tense, release…

“Are you—”

“Fucking hell, please start moving,” you gasp out, grinding into him as the string on Nikto’s caution flees like a loose animal.

His hand travels back from your waist to your hip, the other to the back of your neck, and as he staples his forehead to yours, he grinds out a quiet, “да,” and moves himself out of you nearly all the way as your eyes roll to the feeling.

When the bed starts knocking the wall, there’s little to the imagination as to what’s taking place, and the steadily rising sounds mean nothing as sheets rustle and skin slaps faster, both sensitive from such near releases earlier. There are mutters in Russian, fast, harsh things that hold no venom—slow mutters that make your legs go numb long after both of you had finished.

Nikto was right: for such a brute, he did know how to treat a woman. Well, maybe he just knew how to treat you right.

Multiple times.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

554 notes · View notes

goteique · 5 days

Text

❝ ATLEAST WE SEE THE SAME MOON ❞ + ( sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya, bokuto koutaro,meian shūgo )

cw. | headcanon/scenarios about how they act while being away from you vs how they act when they actually get to see you; gn-reader, boyfriend headcanons, first-time long-distance relationships, fluff, brief mentions of smut, established relationship. || redirect to blog navigation.

notes. | recently rewatched hq so here's something to get rid of my nostalgic brain rot.

☆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of less talk and more work most of the time. He is the kind to miss you day and night without diluting his efficiency in the game. Even texting seems hard for him a phone call seems a little too demanding. He will call you when he is at the far end of a high cliff yet not tell you how much he misses you, your voice, your touch around the house. . . everything in general. But after calling for onetime it starts to become frequent and his talk is full of: "Did you miss me?", " Do you even miss me?", " you rarely call me"; even though he is the one who has told you not to call when you feel like it yet he is the one to call you to say that he misses you a lot and most of the time it is out of context. Maybe you are talking about your day, or some local news but when you finish he just spurts "I miss you". There are two seconds of silence then he says again, "I miss you a lot." But when he is finally home, with you on the same bed and inside you, he would still say, "Did you miss me?" and then places open mouth kisses all over your body saying, " because I sure missed you a lot."

★HINATA SHOYO

Hinata is used to being away from his favorite people but he is not used to being away from you. His texts are frequent and regularly calls you to check on you but when he misses you he never tells instead he visits famous tourist spots and video calls you, shows you those famous tourist spots through video call and says, "i wish we could see this together," and then goes on autopilot mode of talking. You ask him to repeat what he just said and he does repeat except what you want to hear. It is a pulling-pushing game and the end results are embarrassment, laughter, and confession. He never gives a room to complain but time and place keep you apart from him. He often sends you parcels containing matching pieces of jewellery and outfits. And after such deliveries, he visits you and brings souvenier for everyone, even for you but says, "Don't worry this is not the only thing i came for to give you." So, when everyone is sleeping in the house and you two are awake and barely clad. He says, "I've more souvenirs for you," as he admires the bite marks over your body while hooking his arms around your thighs, getting ready for the next step.

✮ ATSUMU MIYA

Atsumu's way of telling you that he misses you is not very stealthy but if you tease too much, his verbal expression comes to a halt since he will build a cocoon around him. Sure, he wears his heart of his sleeve, sometimes on his face but he is never the one to be good with teasing especially coming from his beloved. So, he regularly sends you gifts with an endearing note and when he finally comes home unannounced, he is found in the bedroom with a box full of all those notes he send you, crying. He is crying for two reasons. one: his surprise did not go as he planned. two: he is missing you right now more than ever. When you finally come home, both of you get surprised at first and then he goes back to his whining self about how he wanted to surprise you, talking about his matches and food. Talking about food is a must because he will never admit how good Ongiri MIya is and as he keeps talking he follows you everywhere you go, every corner of the house, and gives you the puppiest face he can manage if you do not let him inside the shower with you. But you actually do, because the owner did miss this puppy.

★ BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto makes time for you every day. He is the kind who tells you each and every detail of his each day before going to bed when he misses you. He tells you that he is coming over next weekend to see you and gets pouty when you are not surprised. It is not a wonder to you that it totally slipped his mind that he actually did mention that he is coming to see you but when you mention that you have specifically taken a day off since he was coming he is instantly is in his high spirits. Because he gets to spend time with you, He gets to spend each and every moment with you,he gets to go out with you, he gets to binge-watch shows with you. There are so many things he get to do wuth you just because he told you that he is coming to see you beforehand. isn't that great? Well, of course it is. As much as he is excited to do all these things, he ends up doing nothing instead spending the whole day in bed with you: talking and listening, talking and touching, touching and kissing, kissing and fucking and then fucking and talking again. If you say that you have to cook he says, "can't we order a take out today?" just so he could cuddle you just fiften minutes more.

☆MEIAN SHŪGO

Meian has a reserved time for you, during weekends unless a match comes up. Everyone knows that even team-mates, parents and coach. He asks you to keep the video call on and do whatever you are doing. It is a nice feeling, almost having him like he is with you, around you even if it is through those rectangular screens. But late at night, he gets a little too sneaky and demanding asking what you are wearing? or says that there's something on your shoulder even if there is not. He takes the longest detour to tell you that he misses you. But all of that just sublimes when you say that you are going to shower. He keeps quiet for a moment and ends uo saying the most common reaction,"without me?" There are times when the answer is yes with a huge nod from your end but there are also times, when you say, "No. You can watch." But Meian does not survive your whole shower time. He even ends the video call just before you are fully naked yet deep down in his heart he believes he can improve with time.

232 notes · View notes

peachdues · 9 months

Text

Phantasmagoria (Part II)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic attacks • implied attempted sexual assault (not described, happens off-page • non-consensual photos being texted around (very briefly described, and then it’s just a mention of a bite mark) • violence between characters • brief description of Douma getting his face pounded in (deserved)

CW: 14k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead (opens mid-fuck) • creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • rough oral • throat fucking • cum eating • ass-smacking • hate(?)fucking • toxic ass FWB • swearing • angst

I promise Part III will have angst BUT also lots of fluff/intimacy/care.

Without further ado!

Three weeks had passed since Sanemi first brought her home with him when Y/N realized she was utterly fucked.

Sure, at that moment, the platinum-haired man had her bent over his kitchen table, arms pinned behind her back as he pounded mercilessly into her, but she realized that she was also fucked because nothing had ever or would ever compare to the way Sanemi made her feel.

It had started only as an occurrence whenever they were out at night, with Y/N tugging Sanemi into Kizuki’s seedy bathroom to bounce against his lap. Sanemi had been forced to muffle his groans by sucking harshly on her breast as he fucked her against the bathroom wall, only for her to succinctly pull off him the moment he finished to return to her friends, Shinobu discretely handing her a napkin to wipe the remnants of his pleasure as it dripped down her thighs.

Then, she started letting him bring her back to his apartment from the various clubs and bars their groups visited. She grew content to let him lay her over the side of his bed to swirl that sinful tongue around her needy, demanding clit as his thick fingers steadily pumped in and out of her aching cunt while he fucked her mouth, his seed spilling down her throat with a force that threatened to obliterate any dwindling part of her that had not been utterly consumed by him.

But that still had not been enough for Y/N — or for Sanemi, apparently.

Because their late-night trysts had quickly evolved into near-daily rendezvouses, both stone-cold sober and texting each other in the middle of the day, in desperate need to feel the other’s body pressed flush against their own. And as wrong as it was, Y/N loved it; she craved it more than any pretty Wisteria pill or sticky fruity drink.

Because all it took was one taste for Y/N to end up right back in the scarred palm of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand, begging him to fuck her back to life.

And fuck her he did. The top of her sundress had been pulled down to her waist, and the wooden grain of his kitchen table bit into her bare breasts as Sanemi’s hips slapped roughly against her ass. Y/N was close to sobbing because god, it felt fucking good when he got rough with her like that, when he made her feel anything other than the crippling numbness that seemed to spread through her with each passing day.

He released her arms to lean forward and ghost his lips up her spine, all the way to the back of her neck, and Y/N came hard, just like she did every time they came together because Sanemi knew how to set every nerve in her body on fire with his addicting touch and addicting kiss.

One rough hand made its way under her jaw to twist her head back so he could claim her lips with his, coming as he did so, his groan of pleasure muffled by Y/N sliding her tongue into his mouth.

She hated how much she loved him.

—————————————————————————

They’d been sleeping together for nearly a month when Sanemi decided to test her patience.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Y/N cringed, because no, she most certainly did not want to talk about it; not then, not ever, and especially not with him.

“Why would we?” She responded flippantly, twirling the straw in the dregs of her drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Sanemi snapped at her. “You’ve spent the last two years running away from us, and you think there’s nothing to talk about?”

Y/N met his stare hard, her own returning glare cold. “Running implies effort.”

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?” Sanemi grabbed her wrist, keeping her from getting up and leaving the bar. “But god forbid you be vulnerable, huh?”

————————————————————————-

“Oh, God forbid you be vulnerable, ‘Nemi,” Y/N gave him an exaggerated eye roll as she leaned her head against Kyojuro’s shoulder.

“You’re sayin’ you would let yourself get that��close with someone?” Sanemi argued, and with a sigh, Kyojuro paused the movie.

They weren’t supposed to be watching a movie with such steamy scenes, but Y/N’s mother had stepped out to cover a shift for a friend, and the trio of teenagers had been left without supervision.

Really, the movie hadn’t been that bad; but the film’s shining sex scene had been several minutes long, each of the teenagers shifting uncomfortably on the couch as the sound of moans filled the basement where they’d gathered to watch.

The scene had passed, but Y/N’s and Sanemi’s argument over a particular detail had not.

“If you’re already having sex, why does it matter what position it’s in?” Y/N half shrieked with laughter as both boys turned scarlet. “Isn’t intimacy the whole point?”

Sanemi turned his face away, embarrassed. “All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think I’d ever let a woman have that much power over me.” Sanemi was referring to the way the female character had climbed atop the love interest and began riding him, her head tipped back as loud, lascivious moans fell from her lips.

It was Kyo’s turn to laugh. “You’d have to get a woman in that position, to begin with, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi made a disgruntled sound. “Bro code says you’re supposed to be on my side, Rengoku,”

Beneath where her cheek lay, Kyojuro vibrated as he laughed heartily. “I’m not saying I’m not! Just that you’ve got a few steps to take before you have to worry about it.”

“Worry about being too vulnerable,” Y/N screwed her eyes up and stuck her tongue out on the last word as she teased him, settling back in against the couch as she grabbed the remote from Kyo’s hand and re-started the movie.

—————————————————————————

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N said frostily, stomping away from the bar and from him.

She didn’t know why she tried to run away from him, not when it was so pointless. Because an hour later, Y/N found herself on the edge of Sanemi’s bed, as he hooked her legs over his muscled shoulders. Face buried deep in her cunt, he lifted her off the mattress, suspending her mid-air and upside down as he ravished her while she sobbed for him to do more, to give her more until she could not possibly take anything else from him.

Perhaps he was punishing her; maybe she deserved it. All Y/N knew, as Sanemi finally tore his mouth away from her weeping core and flipped her onto her knees before slamming her back on his steely length, was that if this was her punishment for loving Sanemi Shinazugawa, she would gladly take it.

The last thing she thought, as Sanemi spilled into her for the second time that evening, thumb swirling her clit and his teeth buried in her neck, was that she was grateful to be on birth control.

—————————————————————————

“Do you like doing that?” Kyojuro’s voice was hesitant over the vibration of the music and laughter of drunken revelers gathered to let loose on the Kizuki dancefloor, and Y/N had to lean closer to hear him at all.

Y/N frowned slightly as she pushed her dissolving Wisteria to her cheek. “It’s just a recreational thing, while we’re out, y’know?”

She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to him, or why she felt like she had to, but Kyojuro had always been one of the few people who could pull the truth out of her with little effort, and in the back of her mind, she knew that made him dangerous. After all, he might get her to confess that she’d missed his smile or missed the blazing heat of Sanemi’s stare whenever she spoke.

Kyojuro reached out and brushed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from one of her space buns behind her ear. “You were always so straight-edge. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Y/N wanted to smack his hand away but found herself leaning into the steadying warmth of his touch. “Things change, I suppose.”

Kyojuro winced, and his eyes filled with a sadness that was too out of place here in this den of debauchery. “Where did it all go wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

It all went wrong when Sanemi and Genya’s parents were killed in that car crash, making the boys wards of the state who were then bounced around from foster home to foster home. It all went wrong when Genya defended another boy in a fight that wasn’t his to begin with and ended up dead on a sidewalk. It all went wrong when Sanemi lashed out at her and condemned her with a few choice words that seemed grossly disproportionate to what she’d actually said. It all went wrong when Kyojuro decided that being there for Sanemi meant he had to abandon her, too, and then they’d both forgotten about her while she’d lost everything.

But Y/N couldn’t unload all of that right then. “Things change, Kyojuro.” She repeated, though her voice was slightly weaker than it had been, wobbling slightly in a way that Y/N knew meant she would cry if given long enough.

“But you’re our friend, Y/N-” Kyojuro pled, but it was the wrong thing to say, and he cringed as he watched her clam up almost instantly.

—————————————————————————

“She’s our friend!” Kyojuro said hotly, though, with his missing front tooth, it was hard to see him as anything but adorable, even as he glowered at the sneering girl, as he helped Y/N stand up from where she’d been knocked over.

“What a weirdo!” Ume, the small, white-haired girl who always looked like she smelled something unpleasant, reached to yank one of Y/N’s pigtails harshly, causing her to cry out in pain. “And you’re ugly, too!”

Y/N had only been trying to join in on Ume’s tea party that she held with the other girls in their class. But when she’d boldly tried to sit down amongst them, the cruel little girl had shoved her harshly out of the circle they’d formed on the blacktop,

Kyojuro smacked the beastly little girl’s hand away. “Hit her again, and I’ll make you sorry!” He threatened, and for once, the girl had the wits to look slightly intimidated at the blonde who towered over her.

“If you hit me, I’ll tell my brother on you!” The troll hissed, but it did little to cow Kyojuro, who shouldered past her as he steered the softly crying Y/N away from the horrid little group of girls.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The blonde asked worriedly after they were out of sight of Ume, turning her around to look her over.

“I-I just w-wanted to be t-their friend!” Y/N hiccupped, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But they were s-so mean!”

Kyojuro pat her head, just like he did with his baby brother. “You don’t want to be their friend, Y/N,” he said kindly. “Not when they’re so mean. Stick with me and Sanemi! We’ll always look after you!”

Y/N wiped her eyes and tugged at her loose pigtail, all messed from Ume’s harsh grip. “Do you promise?”

Kyojuro smiled as brightly as the sun. “I promise! I will always be here to watch after you – whenever you need me! I’ll be there!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N patted the warm brawn of Kyojuro’s shoulder sympathetically. “I was, Kyo,” her use of his nickname somehow made him hurt more, his mouth wobbling somewhat as his eyes mirrored the resignation in hers. “But it’s just as I said,”

Y/N reached for Mitsuri’s discarded drink on the counter and tipped it back, draining the last dregs of alcohol. “Things change.”

—————————————————————————

Y/N was leaning against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black-haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her – she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t know why he won’t make a move,” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He said after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all – he’s made her think it’s her fault things aren’t working out between them.”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Sanemi offered. “He does care about her. More than she realizes.” He watched as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “’S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t catch the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

Sanemi’s gaze upon her was uncomfortable, and not just because it felt like he was stripping down every carefully crafted wall she’d erected around herself during their estrangement. The genuine flash of hurt in his eyes made her feel slick, oily, and so very wrong.

The pair watched as the mismatched couple on the dancefloor swayed together, Obanai’s eyes wide the whole time, as though he could not believe he had the good fortune of holding the beautiful, colorful girl in his arms. Y/N tried to feel happy for her friend, but it was difficult, especially when he knew that the night would inevitably end with Mitsuri in tears, lamenting that her dark-haired lover had yet again insisted he was not good enough for her, and he would leave Y/N to pick up the pieces of her friend’s broken heart.

“They should let themselves try,” Sanemi murmured, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him.

In one smooth gulp, Y/N polished off the rest of her drink, the warm buzz of alcohol loosening her tongue. “Trying is for those who haven’t lost hope.” Y/N squared her shoulders and steeled herself to return to the dancefloor once more. “And Mitsuri is about to learn that lesson.”

Later, just as Y/N predicted, Obanai left but Mitsuri did not go with him. As she wrapped an arm around her crying best friend to steer her out of the club, Y/N looked back to Sanemi, still at the bar, and hoped he could see the I told you so in her eyes.

————————————————————————-

It was July, and Sanemi was getting on her last nerves.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as his hand closed over her wrist, restraining her from raising the little violet pill to her lips — her second of the night.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize you were my father,” she tried to turn away from him, but he caught her shoulder, wrenching her back around and swatting at the hand clutching her key to euphoria.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” He ignored the way she glared at him, as she watched her pill bounced to the floor and disappeared. “You’re destroying yourself; you know that?”

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “It’s none of your business, Shinazugawa,” and he flinched at her use of his surname. “Why do you even care?”

Sanemi almost looked menacing as he stares at her under the flashing strobes of the Kizuki. “You’re my friend.”

————————————————————————-

“Because Sanemi,” Y/N sniffed, “You’re my friend.”

Though Sanemi’s bandages covered most of his face, he could just make out the teary sincerity in the young girl’s eyes as she squeezed his good hand where it lay against his hospital bed.

At that moment, Sanemi had felt guilty for snapping at his long-time best friend. He’d known that she hadn’t meant any harm when she asked him if the multitude of lacerations that now covered the right side of his body were permanent. But Sanemi had woken up to the news that he and Genya were now all alone in the world, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself; he couldn’t help his need to wallow in the sadness and misery that threatened to suffocate him.

And so, he’d lashed out.

“Tch, who’d wanna be friends with a scarred freak like me?” He snapped back, though the sourness in his gut intensified as the tears slipped faster down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I do,” she insisted. “We’ve been best friends since we were babies.” Amidst the sniffling desperation in her eyes, the first inklings of anger began to shine through. “You can’t just decide to quit being friends! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t care if you have scars!” Y/N’s voice grew more shrill over the slow, steady beeps of the various machines to which Sanemi found himself attached. “I’ve always thought you were…were… pretty!” She sputtered.

For once, Sanemi had been stumped into silence. The young boy found himself suddenly grateful that most of his face was indeed covered by several layers of thick medical gauze, given the way he felt his cheeks heat at Y/N’s furious declaration.

“And I will always want to be your friend!” Y/N finished dramatically, crossing her arms, and flinging herself back in the plastic chair she’d dragged over by his hospital bed.

“All right,” Sanemi murmured, grateful that he could blame the crack in his voice on his impending puberty. “All right. We’re friends.”

“Best friends,” Y/N corrected, though the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

—————————————————————————

Y/N laughed without humor. “You think, because we fuck when we’re high or drunk, that makes us friends?”

Y/N laughed again, and Sanemi’s grip around her wrist tightened. “As I recall, Shinazugawa, it was you who ended our friendship, well before we ever started—” Y/N grimaced. “Whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“We hook up when we’re under the influence. Nothing more.” She finished, coldly.

A flash of hurt flit across his features, almost obscured by the pulsing lights of the club. “I’ve been sober for the last month, Y/N.”

Sanemi’s answer landed harder than she’d anticipated, in no short part because she hadn’t noticed he’d stopped taking Shinobu’s Wisteria, much less stopped drinking while they were all out together. As he said it, however, Y/N recalled the way it had been more than a month since they’d last hooked up at night, with Sanemi responding to her texts only in the morning or early enough in the evening before she’d had the chance to fall under the Wisteria’s magic spell.

In the back of her mind, Y/N knew she should be concerned with the way the Wisteria was beginning to dull her perception and her memory, but she couldn’t find it within her to care at that moment. She only wanted to make the man before her hurt, hurt the way he’d made her hurt for all these months.

But she couldn’t. There were a million insults on her tongue, waiting to be used, and she knew that he could take whatever it was she threw at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“The sentiment is the same, drunk or sober,” Y/N said, half-heartedly. “We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.”

The pain in Sanemi’s eyes was overshadowed by his own anger, a sure match to her own. “No? So, I’m just a stranger to you, hm?” He took a step closer to her and reached out his hand, gliding it teasingly up her bare arm. “A stranger whom you call and text every day to come and fuck you the way you like it, huh?”

He pulled her close to him, and Y/N let him because he was right, damn him. She craved his touch, his body, more than any tiny purple pill or acidic drink she could spend her money on. She craved him just as surely as she craved air.

But she could not admit that to him, not then, not there. So, Y/N merely breathed, “Yes,” as Sanemi’s hand wrapped under her jaw, his other one tangling in her hair to pull her head back and meet his eyes directly.

Sanemi kissed her, softly, before pulling away to smile ruefully at her. “Then have your pills, Y/N. But you can’t have me, too.”

He released her, and Y/N stepped back, thankful for the dim lighting of the club that concealed her blush. “I don’t need you,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. From the look that Sanemi gave her in response, as he retreated towards the bar, she could see he knew it, too.

Y/N sought out Shinobu for another one of her magic pills, but even before she’d allowed it to dissolve on her tongue, Y/N knew something was off. No longer was her world a vibrant array of colors beckoning her to the kaleidoscopic paradise she’d come to love. Instead, the Wisteria crumbled bitterly in her mouth, and no amount of stinging alcohol could chase away its acerbic aftertaste.

She tried to lose herself on the dance floor as she so often did, but it only worsened the sludge that pulsed through her veins.

Beneath the throb of multicolored lights, Y/N felt as though she was suffocating.

Y/N pushed and elbowed her way dizzily through the crush of people on the dance floor, lungs constricting to the point of pain as she struggled to take a breath, her limbs trembling. Her eyes landed on a pair of lilac irises studying her from across the club, and distantly, Y/N noticed how he straightened, his focus lasering in on her as she stumbled towards him.

She couldn’t deny the irony that she was so used to fleeing from him into the sparkling, sweaty array of club-goers, only to find herself desperate to run to him, for safety and comfort, away from the revelers who were suddenly too loud and too close.

He met her halfway, having moved from his place against the bar counter after noticing her distress. With more relief than Y/N knew she should feel, she collapsed against him, grateful for the steely warmth of his arms as they closed protectively around her. In his embrace, she found that she didn’t even mind the way his lips pressed against her damp forehead as he asked whether she was okay.

She wasn’t, and that was his fault to begin with, but he was there, holding her as if she mattered, and Y/N let herself melt.

—————————————————————————

An hour later, she was back in Sanemi’s apartment, crouched over his toilet while the cold tile of his bathroom floor bit into her knees as she heaved up her guts. Sanemi was there, too, seated behind her on the ground while he held her hair in his gentle grip, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Between the spasms in her stomach, Y/N wondered if he could see the black sludge of her love for him mixed in with the bile courtesy of Shinobu’s bad Wisteria pill.

————————————————————————-

The next morning, he was yelling at her.

Y/N was confused as to why, exactly, his voice was raised at her, given how gentle he’d been with her the night before; it wasn’t as if she’d been trying to do anything different when he awoke.

She’d just been gathering her things to leave, as she always did. She never stayed after they’d finished, and he knew that — so it wasn’t her fault that he’d woken up and caught her trying to sneak out of his apartment.

“This has gotten out of hand, Y/N. You’re out of control,” Sanemi was blocking his front door, his face hard. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she saw a hint of concern intermingled with the anger that filled his eyes.

“You were lucky last night that you only had a bad trip — but what if it had been mixed with something? What if Kocho’d made a bad batch?”

Y/N’s head was pounding, and the aftereffects from her the previous night were still echoing through her, twisting her world into something dark.

Sanemi’s raised voice wasn’t helping; not in the slightest.

Y/N felt her hands drift to her head as she covered her ears, her breath quickening as her lungs squeezed and spasmed in her chest.

“Stop,” Y/N pled, but her voice was weak and distant, and utterly drowned out by him.

“You’re killing yourself, don’t you see that?” Sanemi continued hotly. “D’you know how gaunt you look? How frail? This shit is killing you, Y/N.”

“For someone who constantly needs to be in control, you’ve completely lost it.”

“Stop, please, stop,”

“What would your mother think?”

“Stop.” Y/N repeated, and she said it again and again until she was half-screaming it, sobbing as she fell back against the hallway wall of Sanemi’s apartment. Distantly, Y/N recognized she was having a panic attack, and she knew it wasn’t really his fault, but his words had stung nonetheless.

Warm, gentle hands closed around her wrists as Sanemi lowered her hands from her ears and pulled her against his chest.

“Breathe,” he said, hoarsely. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was too difficult to get a breath down as she gasped against him, his chest bare under the shirt he’d thrown on and failed to button in his haste to stop her before she could run. Beneath the warm skin under her cheek, Sanemi’s heart beat strong and sturdy, a lullaby that soothed the roar in her ears.

“Breathe with me,” Sanemi coaxed, peeling back from her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He inhaled, deep, for three counts before exhaling, and Y/N found herself falling into sync with him as her erratic heart slowed.

But as the jittery panic beneath her skin eased, a fire ignited in her blood, and suddenly, Y/N found herself boiling with anger.

“How dare you?” She shoved him away harshly, her eyes wild. “Who the fuck gave you the right to bring my mother into this? Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit about her memory.”

Sanemi stumbled back under her push, and he looked remorseful, more guilty than Y/N had ever known him to seem. “Y/N, I –“

“No, shut the fuck up,” She snapped. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sanemi. Not for one fucking second do I believe you care about me or about her at all.”

Y/N paced in front of Sanemi, still situated in front of the only entrance to and exit from his apartment. Fine, if he wanted to keep her in there with him, then he could deal with her rage.

“Not one fucking call,” Y/N began. “Not once did you or Kyojuro bother to check-in. ‘Hey, sorry we haven’t spoken in nine months, but we heard your mom got cancer, and she used to feed us when our parents wouldn’t, so we thought we’d check in and see how she was doing.’” She mimicked, cruelly. “Do you see how fucking simple that could have been?”

Sanemi only stared at her, his eyes an unfathomable mixture of sadness, remorse, and pain.

“But you didn’t,” Y/N said coldly. “You two fucked off and continued your merry little friendship together, so spare me the bullshit.”

“Y/N – Kyojuro cares. I care –“ Sanemi tried, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“Shut the fuck up!” She exploded, her hands flailing in front of her as she tried to push him away from her once more. “You don’t care, you never did! I’m just a warm body for you to fuck and that’s it.”

Y/N finally shoved past him, hand reaching for the door. “Don’t you dare pretend like I mean any more to you than that,” She spat.

She flung his door open, but Sanemi’s hand shot past her, slamming it shut once more. Y/N stood there, facing the door, chest heaving as she struggled to control her anger. “Let me go, Sanemi.” She said stiffly, refusing to turn around, to face him.

Sanemi’s hand found her shoulder and turned her around instead, and before she could blink, his mouth slammed down angrily over hers, his hands gripping her waist tight as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, demanding entry that Y/N couldn’t help but give him.

He was her weakness; always had been, always would be.

Sanemi pressed her against his doorway, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as Y/N palmed him through the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N,” he groaned as she increased the pressure of her hand slightly, her lips moving to his neck as she licked one of the small scars that lay near his jaw.

“I need you, Sanemi,” She murmured, and Sanemi’s eyes blew wide as he growled, arms locking around her middle as he heaved her up against his door.

Their lips met in a fiery exchange of tongue and teeth, biting, and sucking at the other possessively as they tore each other’s clothes from their body. Y/N ground down against Sanemi’s thick, bare length as it bounced against the underside of her thigh, the slick wet of her heat grazing him and causing him to moan in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sanemi growled as he spun them away from the door, guiding them towards his kitchen as he laid her out over his counter, an arm only leaving its position at her waist to clear the assorted mail and spare keys he’d had organized there, letting it all fall to the linoleum floor.

Sanemi’s fingers worked their way between her legs as his lips wrapped around the peak of her breast and sucked, causing Y/N’s back to arch gracefully off the surface of his counter. His thumb stroked her aching bundle of nerves as his index finger swirled around her entrance, teasingly gathering her wetness around the calloused digit, before he sunk it into her, curling it so that he brushed against that sensitive spot on her front wall.

“Sanemi – ah,” she panted as he added yet another finger, her eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of his hand scissoring in and out of her, while his thumb continued to play with her clit. “I can’t wait – please,”

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt fighting every urge to sheathe himself within her heat in a single stroke, but he withdrew his fingers, nodding. With a surprising softness, Sanemi flipped Y/N over, pressing her down against the cool top of his kitchen counter, and used his knee to knock her thighs apart. One hand braced on her hip, the other gripped him at his base as he nudged her opening from behind, Y/N nearly drooled as she felt the hot, flared tip of his cock pressing flush against her entrance, and she rapaciously ground against him, eager to feel him inside of her.

Sanemi gradually eased himself into her wet, aching heat, no doubt taking his time because she’d demanded he take her before properly preparing her. Y/N whimpered at the stretch of her walls around him, as Sanemi groaned, loud and unrestrained, as he sank into her warmth, his chest heaving behind her.

One broad hand slid down the side of her leg, lifting it up to rest on the counter. With one long draw of his hips backwards, nearly withdrawing from her waiting cunt, Sanemi slammed back into her with a force that had her choking for her breath.

Sanemi began to fuck her, and she swore she saw the gates of Heaven.

With every sharp push and pull of his steely length, Y/N felt her eyes roll further back into her skull, as a stream of cries and whimpers poured from her mouth. She was helpless to do anything but push herself back against him as he pounded into her, slamming her back onto his cock over and over, as he moaned and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” Sanemi panted in her ear. “Y/N – just stay. With me. Please.”

But Y/N did not answer him; could not, due to the incessant roll of his hips into hers, as Sanemi increased the force with which he thrust into her with every passing second, threatening to snatch every sane thought from her head.

Sanemi pushed her leg further up on his kitchen counter, a hand coming to rest against a cupboard to steady himself as he thrust deeper into her velvet heat.

His lips danced down the back of her neck, biting and sucking. The drive of his hips forced hers to bounce against the counter, the cheap plywood and plaster biting into her hipbones with every impassioned thrust of Sanemi’s cock as he withdrew from her glistening core, only to slam himself back into her.

“Ngh, Sanemi,” Y/N moaned, pushing herself back against him, needing him to go faster, harder, to make her forget all the ways he’d made her feel lonely and unwanted.

He bit down on her shoulder blade as his thrusts grew sloppy. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N was too enthralled by the hurried drag of Sanemi’s length in and out of her desperate cunt to care that he’d referred to her as “baby.” He could call her anything, anything at all, as long as he kept fucking her the way he was, against his kitchen counter.

Sanemi angled his hips and began hammering at the spot deep inside her that had her vision nearly whitening out.

“Fuck, S-Sanemi,” She whined. “I’m gonna cum—.” The ache in her belly flared the way it always did whenever Sanemi brought her close to her end.

“Not yet,” Sanemi groaned, though he found it difficult to keep holding himself back. “Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart.” One hand left its bruising grip on her hip in favor of reaching around her to squeeze at her breasts, as he rolled one of her nipples between his expert fingers.

“I can’t,” Y/N cried, begging. “Sanemi, please, oh please-,”

Sanemi removed his arms from her and brought them to the front of her knees, straightening her legs so they stuck out behind her, one braced on either side of his hips as he increased his rhythm, the loud clap of Y/N’s skin against the counter as he pounded harder into her threatening to drown out her moans.

Once he was sure she would not lower her legs, Sanemi’s hand came down against her backside, smacking her as he bounced her against him.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, beseeching Sanemi to do it again, and he obliged, bringing his hand down against her other cheek as she sobbed. Sanemi hissed as he felt the eager walls of her cunt squeeze him to the point of pain, keeping his bruising length locked within her as he chased his release.

The slight sting of his hand against the sensitive skin of her ass was too much for her to bear; with a keening howl, Y/N shattered around him, Sanemi following suit as his cum shot into her with a force that made him see white, her name the only mantra on his lips.

She was still in the thick of her orgasm when Sanemi abruptly pulled out, his cum dripping from her spasming core and onto the floor beneath them. She didn’t have time to protest, however, as Sanemi dropped to his knees behind her, where she was still spread wide for him, and began to feast upon her, his teeth and lips wrapping around her clit and sucking so hard, she nearly levitated off the counter, her thighs clamping tight around his head.

Y/N could not find it within herself to feel sorry for his neighbors as she screamed his name, her throat burning with the effort as Sanemi hauled her back to her peak and sent her tumbling over it once more, this time stronger than she’d ever felt.

He did not stop; he continued to suck at her through the prolonged waves of her climax, his warm fingers coming to slide into her opening and massage his cum into her quivering walls, making her see stars as his fingertips brushed the spongy part of her innermost wall, her legs spasming around him.

A gush of fluid sprang forth from her, thoroughly coating Sanemi’s face and he groaned with satisfaction, pressing his mouth even harder against her, as though the mixture of his cum with hers was the most intoxicating elixir ever to pass his lips.

Y/N’s pleasure-delirious sobs were muffled against the counter as the aftershock of her successive orgasms wracked through her, her body quivering from the exertion. As the spasms in her cunt subsided, Sanemi finally stepped away, pressing featherlight kisses against her spine, so gentle in contrast with the delightfully brutal way he’d just reminded her that she’d never be able to run away from this – from him.

Sanemi rocked back on his heels, hands braced against the counter as he caught his breath. “Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s limbs had been reduced to liquid, so she did not complain as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bathroom.

He sat her gently on the edge of his tub and moved behind her to turn the water on, holding his fingers under the steady stream until it was hot – just the way he knew she liked it.

“I don’t want to take a fucking bath here,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just give me a towel and be done with it.”

Sanemi recoiled slightly, and it made her chest hurt. “Was – was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Only in every way a person could be hurt, but not through his actions in the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to assure him that, at the very least, she’d loved every second of the way he’d spread her across his counter. But the love in Y/N’s heart had turned it into a black, decaying lump, and so, her response only matched her rotten core.

“It was fine – we’re not a fucking couple,” She snatched a washcloth from his hand and shoved it under the faucet, dampening it and then moving to wipe it between her legs. “So, stop trying to act like we are.”

Sanemi stood back, his arms folding across his chest and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was the gentleness with which he spoke to her that enraged her even more, even though she knew she was being irrational. “It’s whatever,” she muttered, folding the used washcloth back up and laying it neatly over the edge of the bathtub. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sanemi nodded and left the bathroom, still naked himself, and returned with her discarded clothes and underwear. Once he’d passed them to her, he retreated back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Y/N tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach when he did not emerge to say goodbye, as she opened his front door and disappeared into the mid-day sun.

—————————————————————————

All of her friends were traitors.

Not one of them was in the mood to venture out with her, not even Mitsuri, who was newly in a relationship with Obanai, the moody, awkward boy having finally plucked up the courage to confess his feelings for the bubbly pinkette.

Thus, Mitsuri no longer needed Wisteria or sticky drinks to feel high; she had love.

Y/N was happy for her – really; but she wasn’t happy to lose her reliable going-out friend.

So Y/N was on her own at the Kizuki lounge, though she didn’t really mind all that much. She’d become such a regular in that dark den of iniquity that a few other lost souls recognized her as their own and were only happy to dance with her. Unfortunately, however, Shinobu was nowhere in sight, and thus, Y/N was left utterly without the comforting lull of her friend’s Wisteria.

As Y/N pounded back another round of shots, wincing at the burn of the green apple liquor which slid down her throat, a sultry voice spoke.

“Well, it’s rare to see such a beautiful thing like you alone in a place like this,” Y/N turned and saw a familiar yet unnerving pair of eyes – the same she’d seen a few weeks earlier at the club, the first night she’d danced with Sanemi – blinking at her.

He was familiar – she’d seen him around on campus and knew him to be relatively involved with student life. Y/N scoured her brain, trying to place a name on the white-haired man smiling at her like she was something to be devoured.

“Douma, right?” Y/N recalled, and the man nodded, his smile widening revealing a set of too-sharp canines.

“I’m flattered you know my name,” his voice was almost flirty, if not for the sickeningly sweet edge in it that set the hair on her arms standing. “Though, I only know you as Shinobu’s friend,” he pouted.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know Shinobu?”

The man with the jewel-colored eyes nodded, smiling dreamily. “Shinobu and I are old friends – business partners, even. And me and her sister go way back.” Douma reached out and toyed with a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and she fought the urge to shudder. “Tell me your name, gorgeous? I’ve seen you around, though Shinobu always barks before I ever have the chance to talk to you.”

Y/N laughed, softly. “Shinobu’s bark is always worse than her bite, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Douma leaned in close, and his cologne was strong and sensual in a way that made Y/N’s head feel fogged. “And what about your bite? Surely, someone who hangs around with Shinobu is bound to pack a bit of a punch.”

He knew how to flatter, she’d give him that. “I’m afraid I’m all bark, Douma.” And, because she felt lonely, and because she felt a little desperate, she added, “Though I might be inclined to bite if given the right incentive.”

Douma tipped his head back and laughed, deeply, and it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “You are something, aren’t you, Y/N? I can’t believe your friends would let you wander out by yourself.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the smiling man’s drink, his grin only widening as she polished off its contents. “I need no babysitter, unfortunately for them.”

“No you do not,” Douma purred. “Well, since you’re a free agent tonight, how about you come by my place? My roommate and I are throwing a huge party – I’d bet nearly half the campus is there already.”

Y/N didn’t doubt it; Douma’s parties were something of a campus legend.

“And, I believe I have something that might make it worth your while,” Douma smirked, pulling a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Within it, sat three of those coveted lilac pills, and Y/N’s mouth watered.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of incentive a girl looks for,” Y/N teased, standing with Douma to leave the Kizuki, the latter’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Y/N and Douma chatted animatedly as he led her to his car, and Y/N could almost ignore the unease tugging incessantly in her stomach.

She shook off the feeling. After all, if she squinted hard enough, Douma could almost pass as Sanemi.

—————————————————————————

Kyojuro answered his phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” He said, surprise coloring his features. Sanemi perked up at the name of the boy from their hometown but was filled with unease at the way Kyojuro’s face darkened.

“We’re on our way.” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s questioning look.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already rising, his wallet and keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but his phone dinged in time with Kyojuro’s, and both paled at the text image they’d received from an unknown number, sent to each person in their friend group.

It was an image of Y/N, though only half her face was visible — but it was clear she was crying and she looked fucking terrified. Mascara streaked down her cheeks as she held her arms up protectively in front of her. But those too-thin arms could not obscure the blooded, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! The message below the image read.

A second, follow-up message dinged. Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked back in horror at his best friend but broke into a cold sweat as he beheld the murderous rage that caused his friend to tremble.

“Let’s go.” It was all the white-haired man said as the pair slammed Kyojuro’s apartment door behind them and head for his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N – you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened a door to a hidden closet behind the stairwell in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a trunk sitting in the closet. “Thank you, Hakuji. I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N – she was always kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people to call him by his actual name, rather than that abhorrent nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Akaza grimaced, checking behind him to ensure no one had snuck in and found them hiding. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned as he considered her. “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, instead only nodding. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me and I really don’t want to risk him finding you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else – I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks again, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————-

For Y/N, sitting alone in that cramped, dark closet, it felt like hours had passed since Hakuji had locked her away, out of sight from Douma’s unnerving eyes. Y/N was getting antsy, until the sound of gasps and screams from below set her stomach twisting with panic. She began to hyperventilate when she heard footsteps – two pairs, one heavier than the other – rapidly approaching the closet door as the knob began to twist.

Tears were leaking down her face, hot and fast, as a knock sounded against the door.

“Y/N!” Someone hissed. “It’s me – open the door.” It was not Akaza on the other side, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her nearly sobbing with relief.

With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his expression unreadable. Leaning towards her, he closed a warm hand gently around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, his eyes running over her as those scanning for injury. His nostrils flared at the small dab of blood that had dried on her shirt, concealing the bruising bite mark below.

Kyojuro’s burning grip remained on her as he led her out of Hakuji’s room – the pink-haired man nodding reassuringly at her as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the small staircase to the main floor, an eerie silence interrupted only by an occasional gasp below.

He turned back to Y/N, his face stony. “Don’t look,” he warned. “Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here, no matter what.”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat as the pair descended the stairs, slowly. They almost made it to the front door, where Y/N could see Kyojuro’s car pulled half-onto the lawn outside, still running, when a strange wet thump snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before.

Y/N froze as she took in the crowd, gathered, and parted around two men, hunched on the floor, as they all looked on in stunned horror.

It was Sanemi, with Douma pinned beneath his knees, as he mercilessly pounded his fist into her would-be assailant’s face.

Douma was covered in scarlet, and the swollen features of his face were nearly unrecognizable as Sanemi slammed his knuckles into him, over and over. Douma only wheezed out a laugh, apparently egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, ready to call out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door and away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t,” he said, softly. “Let him get it out.”

Kyojuro hauled her to his car, pausing only to open his passenger door before gently pushing her to sit down in the worn seat. Y/N didn’t challenge him as he reached over her and buckled her seatbelt, noting the fire raging in his eyes.

Her friend rejoined her on the driver’s side and pulled roughly out of the yard of Douma’s party house, speeding off down the street. Y/N opened her mouth to speak – to say anything, when Kyojuro held up his hand as his other pulled his phone free from his pocket. He read something on the screen, before clicking it off, returning his eyes to the road.

“It’s Tengen – cops have been called.” He explained, his voice low and face hard.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “Sanemi’s going to get arrested.”

Kyojuro snorted. “If Tengen shows up first, Sanemi will be fine. The cops have been looking to bust Douma for months.” Kyojuro slowed at a stoplight and cut his eyes over to where Y/N sat, curled on his seat, looking so small and so vulnerable.

“Y/N,” his voice possessed a gentleness she didn’t deserve, and it only made her mash her lips together in an effort to keep the tears in her eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She flinched, folding her arms tight across her chest, the spot where Douma bit her aching. Slowly, the memory of a phone camera flashing in her face, mere seconds before Hakuji had exploded into the room, cursing up a storm at Douma as he’d covered her with a blanket, blitzed out of her mind.

“The photos,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, god –,”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened on his steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Y/N,” his voice cracked, just like her heart. “If you’d rather me call one of the girls, I will --,”

Y/N shook her head, urgently. “No, no, Kyo, he didn’t – he only bit me.”

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed, though only marginally so. “Only bit you,” he repeated, shaking his head in disgust, that cold rage still pulling at his face, contorting the face she loved into something brutal, violent, and unforgiving.

He looked back at her as she trembled in his passenger seat. “What do you need, Y/N?”

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Can – can you just drive, Kyo? Please?”

He nodded, and the two drove in silence for an hour, her friend randomly getting off and on the interstate as the sights of the city passed them aimlessly by.

Kyojuro abruptly pulled his car over to the side of the road, coming to a stop and slamming it into park, before turning to look at her.

“Y/N,” the sound of his voice was so strangled, so pained, that Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, and into her lap. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sobbed quietly into her hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, Kyo.” Her vision was completely obscured by the saltwater that would not stop, her breath becoming panicked.

“I don’t even remember fucking it all up. All I know is I was so fucking angry with you two, and now -,” Y/N cut herself off with a hiccup.

“It’s all so fucked,” her breath was choppy as her tears increased, her hands rising to clutch at her chest. “You – you and Sanemi --,”

Kyojuro got out of his car and walked around to her side, opening the door to tug her out of the passenger seat and into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“Y-you left me,” Y/N sobbed into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. “I needed my friend, and you left me,”

“I know,” Kyojuro’s tears dampened her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how could you do that, to your best friend?” She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands until her knuckles turned white. “You were my brother, Kyojuro.”

“You promised things would be okay, and then they weren’t. And you didn’t even try.” Y/N pushed away from him then, anger burning through the tears in her eyes. “Friends don’t do that; family doesn’t do that.”

Kyojuro looked as broken as she felt. “I broke every promise I made to you, I know,” he said hoarsely. “I swore I wouldn’t let you get too far away --,”

Y/N exploded.

“Get too far away?” She swore at him, hands angrily wiping the salt from her cheeks. “You abandoned me, you left me hung out to dry!”

Y/N’s hands balled to fists at her side, as she shook. “Sanemi at least arguably had an excuse. You had none. Nothing about what I did — what I said — meant I deserved that,” her eyes, angry and broken, met his own teary gaze once more. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N,” Kyojuro started, but the furious girl cut him off.

“Shut up, Kyojuro,” she snapped, and for once, the flame-haired man looked lost for words. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To watch you and him carry on as though nothing happened – as though I didn’t fucking exist?”

“And when my mom got sick? She used to feed you and your brother, you – you – selfish asshole,” Y/N was nearly hyperventilating in her ire, as twenty-two months of heartache, pain, and rage boiled out of her all at once. “And you couldn’t even check in?”

“I tried,” Kyojuro cut her off, somewhat forcefully, at her last accusation. “I tried to check in, Y/N. During the summer – I saw the ambulance leaving your house, but I couldn’t leave Senjuro by himself.”

“I came by the first thing the next morning, but no one answered. You --,” Kyojuro hesitated. “You must’ve still been at the hospital. I should’ve checked.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “Visiting doesn’t matter. You had a phone. You know how to use it, and you couldn’t send a fucking text.”

The blonde exhaled, and the tiredness on his face softened some part inside of her, made her want to hug him because deep down, she hated that Kyojuro could ever look so worn down.

“Nothing I say is going to make up for it. I know that.” He whispered. “If I could turn back time, I would, Y/N. Please believe me when I say I would.”

Kyojuro dragged a tired hand down his face, smearing the tears across his cheeks as he did so, and he looked toward his old friend, brokenly. “But I’m here now,” He said, pleadingly. “I’m sorry if that’s still not enough; I understand if it isn’t. But please, let me be here for you, now. Even if that means you hate me.”

Y/N did not expect to break so suddenly, but the sight of Kyojuro openly weeping before her, combined with the bruising sincerity of his words, whittled away all of the hardness she’d built up and struck her right in her heart.

“Oh Kyo,” Y/N shuddered a sob, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her tears as Kyojuro stepped forward once more and enveloped her in his arms. “I could never hate you,”

For the first time in nearly two years, Y/N returned Kyojuro’s hug with the same ferocity she once had, and part of her hoped, oh so timidly, that the force with which he embraced her would slowly work to put her back together again – to make her whole.

The two almost siblings melted into one another, each one muttering a litany of I’m sorrys, and I love you‘s. For a long while, the pair stood there, on the side of the road, swaddled in the other’s embrace as they sobbed together, for both the children they once were, and the adults the world had forced them to become.

Eventually, the pair found themselves back in Kyojuro’s car, still driving with no real destination in mind; only this time, the two blasted music from their high school days and loudly sang off-key together, laughing carefree as their broken hearts mended, song by song. They drove until Y/N yawned, and Kyojuro sternly, but teasingly, noted it was well past her bedtime.

“You scare the shit out of him, you know,” Kyojuro said after a long while, eyes still fixed resolutely on the road leading to Y/N’s apartment.

Y/N, who’d been watching the blur of stars in the night sky as they sped down the highway, rolled her head toward him to look at him, her face skeptical. “Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa, scared of me?” She scoffed, turning her attention back to the night sky as it whizzed past her window.

Kyojuro reached for her hand, and Y/N could have cried at how warm and comforting it felt. “He thinks he’s lost you for good. He does regret how things went down, you know; he did from the get-go.”

“I think he’s afraid he’s going to wake up one day and find you’ll just be gone entirely. Completely unreachable.”

Y/N stretched her fingers to play with the series of necklaces Kyojuro had dangling from his rearview mirror, admiring the way they twinkled under the passing streetlights. “He would have to care to be afraid, Kyo, and you and I both know that he doesn’t care about me.” She chewed on her lip. “Not in that way.”

Kyojuro finally pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He took his time putting his car in park and shutting it off, before turning back to her, his face solemn. “If you can’t see how crazy he is about you, then I don’t know what else I can say.”

The fire in his stare was scorching, and Y/N fidgeted under the intensity of both his gaze and his words. “He barely knows me, Kyo. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kyojuro said, though not too harshly. “You might want to believe you’re a different person now, but you’re still you. I promise you, you’re still the Y/N we both know – and love.”

Y/N’s tear fell down her cheeks anew, as she’d not realized how badly she needed to hear that she was still herself – that she wasn’t just a shell of the person she once was, never fully present and never fully worth giving a damn about.

“I think you want to believe he doesn’t care because it makes it easier on you to pretend like you’re just using him.” Kyojuro’s words cut through her like a knife.

Y/N winced and opened her mouth to respond, but Kyojuro raised a hand, silencing her.

“I’m not saying you mean to,” Kyojuro’s words stung, but they were earnest. “And I don’t necessarily think you are – but I think you’re running from him, because you are frightened.”

“What would you have me do, Kyo?” Y/N asked, slightly exasperated as her head thudded back against the worn fabric of his car seat.

“Are you still in love with him?” Kyojuro asked, and it took great effort for Y/N not to roll her eyes at him. “Then you must let him in, Y/N. He wants your love – very much so – of that, I’m certain.”

“He has always wanted my love,” Y/N snorted. “He’s like a jealous, possessive dragon that way. The problem is with him returning it.”

Kyojuro sighed, before getting out of his car and rounding to her side, opening her door for her. “As I said before,” he reached a warm hand to muss her hair as she stood, stretching her stiff limbs from the hours they’d spent driving around the city. “If you can’t see how crazy Sanemi is about you, then I can’t help you.”

Kyojuro’s lips pressed against her forehead, warm and steady, and it felt like home. “Give him a chance, Y/N. Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.”

—————————————————————————

After ensuring Y/N was safely inside her apartment, Kyojuro continued to drive for another hour.

The emotions of the night weighed too heavily on his shoulders, and Kyojuro knew going back to his apartment would end in nothing but him tossing for hours in bed, replaying the last conversation with Y/N in his head, over and over.

—————————————————————————

One year earlier

“Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Kyojuro chuckled, reaching for a beer. He was disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving at his place.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety – the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death. But Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her – Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though as Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated. He’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers. He saw it in the way Sanemi’s eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in – they’d been around thirteen or so – and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways – it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile!”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stars at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro had truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they know how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

————————————————————————

Ten months earlier

Kyojuro didn’t mind working for the enrollment center at Ubaya-U.

Sure, the work was a little tedious, if not monotonous, especially at the start of a new semester, but at least that meant his shift passed him by quickly.

That particular day, Kyojuro had been tasked with finalizing the class registers for his year – the juniors – as the add/drop period had finally passed, and thus, schedules were to be finalized for the semester.

He’d spent hours tabbing through page after page of student schedules, entering data and clicking the small arrow at the bottom of his screen to move onto the next student ID number, over and over, until the figures on his computer blurred together. But Kyojuro had finally entered the schedule for the last student, and he was eager to hit “ENTER,” and get the fuck home.

His back aching and wrist cramping, Kyojuro hit the command key that promised release.

ERROR. The screen read. ONE OR MORE ENTRIES MISSING.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro muttered, and he hit the “ENTER” key once more, in hopes that the system had merely hiccupped after having been in use for so long.

The same ERROR message flashed across his screen once more.

Kyojuro exhaled, pinching his nose as his eyes screwed shut in frustration, the beginnings of a headache creeping in around his temples. Shoving himself away from his desk, Kyojuro stood and stalked over to his supervisor, who was just as numbly tabbing through a spreadsheet.

“Murata,” Kyojuro said, trying to keep his growing anger in check. It was a Friday night and he just wanted to go home and do stupid college things, dammit.

The tired shift supervisor grunted in answer, turning in his swivel seat towards the fuming college junior.

“I entered all of the student schedules, but the system is flagging some sort of error.” Kyojuro produced a printed-out spreadsheet of every student ID number and handed it to his manager, who took note of the neat, precise little checkmarks next to every line that signaled Kyojuro had finalized the correlating schedule. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure thing,” even though Kyojuro often thought Murata was, at times, a little inept at his own job, he couldn’t deny the college senior was helpful. Murata pulled up the school’s informatics system and entered his log-in, clicking through various prompts until his screen resembled Kyo’s.

Murata tried to submit the same data that Kyojuro had tried, and the same error message dinged on his screen.

“Huh, that’s odd,” the manager said, unhelpfully. “Let me see if I can use my admin key and find out if there’s anyone you missed.”

Kyojuro resisted the urge to point at his spreadsheet once more; Kyojuro, simply put, never missed an entry when it came to plugging in numbers and codes for work. The same could not be said for Murata.

“Ah, there it is,” to Kyojuro’s surprise, a student profile popped up on Murata’s screen in red, though his supervisor’s head blocked the name. “Number ending in 0851. Let me just –” Murata clicked around the screen and quickly tabbed in a couple of course codes, and hit enter, but the screen erred once more.

“What the – ohhh, I know this number,” Murata said, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah. Okay. You need my code to bypass this one. She got special permission from the university to not finalize her schedule until next week.”

Kyojuro sighed. At least the error hadn’t been on his end.

“Got a pen? You’ll need her name to enter it once the screen prompts you. In the explanation box, just type “special permission/family emergency.”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’ll remember it. What’s the name?”

“Y/L/N. Y/N.” Murata answered flippantly, though Kyojuro’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, I got an email about her a few weeks ago because she hadn’t returned to campus. The Dean said her mom was in the hospital, and she was the sole caretaker, so her professors all agreed to let her attend online until things mellowed out.”

“Never seen that happen before, she must be one helluva student,” Murata commented as he turned back to Kyojuro. “Hey, in the entry box, put her date of return – I think I remember the email saying it was sometime next month, but let me check.” The supervisor turned back to his screen, blissfully unaware of Kyojuro’s wide eyes or his pounding heart.

“There it is – hm, there’s an update,” Murata remarked, though more to himself than to the pale Junior standing behind him. “Oh my, that’s a shame. Looks like her mom passed away last week, so she’s returning after the funeral, which was --,” Murata squinted. “Yesterday.”

“Yup, seems like she’s due back next week instead. Just put down Monday’s date.” Murata turned back to Kyojuro with a kind smile, but it quickly slipped when he saw the sweat that had broken out across the burly blonde’s forehead and noted the way he shook.

“Rengoku, you good, man?” Murata asked worriedly, though Kyojuro barely heard him over the roaring in his head and the sound of his heart-shattering.

“Y-yeah,” Kyojuro’s voice cracked. “Murata, would you mind entering that information for me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Kyojuro did not wait for his supervisor’s answer as he grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of the Student Affairs office, as he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kyojuro did not remember the walk back to his apartment; he remembered only the rush of grief, and crushing sadness, as he recalled the kind woman who’d shown him such love and affection after his own mother died, that he’d thought of her as a second mother.

He thought of Y/N – oh god, Y/N, who now lived in a world in which she had no family left. No home to go back to.

Alone.

He hadn’t known; Sanemi hadn’t known.

Kyojuro stumbled through the front door of his apartment, vaguely noting that Sanemi had already let himself in, and helped himself to whatever was in Kyojuro’s well-stocked refrigerator.

“Man, I’ve had a fuckin day,” Sanemi’s gravelly voice rang over the muted sounds of his television as he chowed down on a helping of sweet potatoes Kyojuro had meal prepped a few days earlier.

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro tried weakly, though Sanemi seemed not to hear him over his own, loud complaining.

“-and four papers, and we’re barely a month into school. I can’t wait to fuckin’ graduate and get the hell out of this place --,”

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro said again, more forcefully that time, cutting his friend’s impassioned rambling off. At the serious, monotonous tone in his best friend’s voice, Sanemi fell silent. “It’s Y/N, she – h-her…”

Kyojuro’s voice wobbled. Sanemi dropped his fork into the plastic container that contained Kyojuro’s food and stared at him, eyes wide, as he sucked his breath through his teeth. Whatever news his friend had to deliver, it would not be good.

“Is – is Y/N okay?” Sanemi asked tentatively, his voice shaking slightly. He felt the color drain from his cheeks as Kyojuro slowly shook his head. As childish as it seemed, Kyojuro wanted to run, because if he did not speak those awful words, then perhaps they would not be real.

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she…she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

————————————————————————-

Nine months earlier

Sanemi barged into his apartment without knocking, nearly toppling over the coatrack Kyojuro kept in the entryway.

“Shinazugawa,” he’d started to chastise, but fell silent at the look on his best friend’s face, a strange mixture of nausea and despair etched into his features.

“I saw her, Kyo,” Sanemi croaked, pale and shaking as he ripped open Kyojuro’s fridge and grabbed a beer, not bothering to ask as he wrenched the bottle cap off and took a healthy swig.

“Y/N?” Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed, as he followed his friend into his sparsely decorated living room, Sanemi shakily sitting on the small sofa, head braced between his hands.

“Did you talk to her? How was she?” Kyojuro pressed, but Sanemi refused to lift his head to meet his eyes.

“I saw her,” Sanemi repeated, his voice trembling almost as badly as his hands. “And I didn’t know it was her.”

Kyojuro shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean -,”

“I didn’t recognize her, Kyojuro. Not at first,” Sanemi finally looked up and Kyojuro’s stomach twisted at the tears pooling in his friend’s eyes. “How could I not recognize our best friend?”

Kyojuro threw an arm around Sanemi’s shoulders. “It’s been a while,” he said, gruffly, “It’s just been a while since we saw her –.”

“You don’t get it,” Sanemi said, wide-eyed and haunted. “Y/N looks different – she’s so fucking thin, Kyojuro, that I couldn’t recognize her.”

————————————————————————

One month earlier

“So you – you and Y/N,” Kyojuro began, and Sanemi nodded, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am never touching that Wisteria shit again,” the lavender-eyed man vowed, darkly. “I fucking lost control.”

Kyojuro frowned, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Sanemi flung himself back against the cushion of his sofa, arm draped over his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears that gathered there. “I fuckin’ hurt her, man.”

The blonde sighed, settling back against the sofa with his friend, thumbs twiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “You didn’t mean to, you know. Sometimes that just – it just happens.”

Trust Sanemi to be this dramatic being Y/N’s first – the man had practically screamed into the phone at him when he’d discovered the small speckle of blood on his sheets and realized that Y/N was nowhere to be found.

Though, Kyojuro never imagined Sanemi would be this frantic about the ordeal.

Sanemi lowered his arm to stare at his best friend, bewildered. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking trust myself on that shit, and I’ll be damned if I hurt her again.”

“I’m done with it all, Kyojuro,” Sanemi swore once more. “For her, I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

————————————————————————-

Two weeks earlier

Kyojuro jogged to where his friend stood, smoking a cigarette as his eyes scanned over the various food trucks that had gathered on the street near his apartment, considering the wide variety of choices.

“You’re the only person I know who could make that look somewhat appealing,” Kyojuro grumbled as Sanemi took another drag, grinning. Sanemi had quit both alcohol and Wisteria cold turkey but had become such an irritable bitch as he went through withdrawal that Kyojuro had practically begged him to find something to help him take the edge off.

So, Sanemi had traded one vice for another and had taken to smoking, though he could tell his friend hated it. Sanemi hoped that his shakes would soon subside, and he could kick the nasty habit before it became another problem for him to deal with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Sanemi asked as the pair began to leisurely stroll around the crowded plaza. “And don’t say sweet potatoes – we’ve been eating healthy all goddamn week; I need something greasy.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “I’m quite in the mood for a burger if you’re up for it.” He offered and Sanemi nodded in agreement. The pair joined the relatively lengthy queue outside a food truck grill, the scent of charcoal and meat promising to feed their empty bellies.

The pair made small talk as they waited, Sanemi nearly finishing his cigarette in the time it took them to reach the front of the line. Just before they were set to order, Sanemi’s phone dinged in his pocket, and the white-haired man pulled it free, puffing on the last of his cigarette as he did so.

“Ah, shit,” Sanemi sighed, though he did not look particularly crestfallen as he glanced back to his friend. “Sorry, man – duty calls.”

Kyojuro scoffed at his choice of words. “Duty,” he shook his head. “You mean Y/N?”

“You’d feel that way too if you slept around –”

“Yeah, but it’s not just ‘sleeping around’ to you, is it?” Kyojuro asked pointedly, and Sanemi fell silent. “You don’t sleep with anyone else. Does she?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, we made an agreement – we’re – well, we don’t use condoms,” at the horrified look on Kyojuro’s face, Sanemi blushed. “She’s on birth control! ‘Sides,” Sanemi swallowed, awkwardly. “With all the weight she’s lost, and all the shit she’s been taking, I don’t think it’s likely she could – well, get pregnant.”

Kyojuro pinched his brow between his fingers. “Pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use condoms, you dolt,”

Sanemi harrumphed at him. “Look, I used protection with the other two girls, and I got tested not long after,” Sanemi quickly drew his cigarette back to his mouth, a sure sign of his growing discomfort with the conversation. “And, as Mitsuri so tactfully pointed out, I was her first, so I know she’s clean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Sanemi snapped at the reproachful look in his friend’s owlish gaze. “It feels better, y’know.”

Kyojuro only shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Sanemi?”

Sanemi looked away from him, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. “You know why, man,” he said quietly, and Kyojuro’s heart clenched.

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you --,”

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi –”

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot as he sauntered away, holding his hand up over his shoulder in farewell as he set off back across the lively street.

—————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N dragged herself up the stairs of the apartment she shared with Mitsuri and Shinobu, a tiredness she’d not felt in a long while settling into her weary bones. Her head ached from the strain of the evening, and she knew her eyes were likely red and puffy from the hours of her crying.

Shakily, she slid her key through the lock and opened her front door, quietly relieved at the darkened silence of her apartment, which meant both of her roommates were out.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N slid to the floor in the entryway, and did not move; for a long while, she stared blankly at the dark kitchen before her, her mind replaying her conversation with Kyojuro on a loop, though the mark on her breast, with its pulsing ache, demanded her attention.

With a sigh, Y/N heaved herself up off the kitchen floor and shuffled her way to her room, silently thanking her luck that she’d managed to pull the bedroom with the in-suite bathroom, which meant she could curl up on the floor of her shower for as long as she wanted, without the fear of either of her friends needing the toilet.

Once she’d stripped herself of the evening’s outfit, Y/N inspected the wound on her chest.

It felt worse than it looked. There was a small bit of dried blood around where Douma’s teeth had broken her skin, and the mouth-shaped mark was angry, red, and already a little purple, but from her cursory examination of it, it seemed like the wound was likely to only bruise, and not scar.

It was the unseen wound that concerned her more; the scar that was assuredly left on her heart.

She’d fucked up – badly.

Granted, she knew it wasn’t her fault that Douma had decided to try and do whatever it was he wanted to do with her – she wasn’t going to blame herself for that.

What was her fault was how badly she’d let things spiral out of control; how badly her use of the Wisteria had become. She wasn’t a medical student by any means, but she knew the tell-tale signs of an abuse problem. Y/N would not venture to say she was addicted, but she feared she was well on her way to that path – unless she did something about it right then.

She braced her hands against the cool porcelain of her sink and looked at her reflection, jolting slightly at the face that stared back at her.

She still looked like herself, granted, but there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her cheeks, a vacancy in her slightly over-large eyes that made her uncomfortable. She stretched and winced at the ease with which she could just make out the number of ribs laying beneath her skin.

Sanemi had been right – she’d let things go too far.

As she yanked on the shower nozzle to summon the water to chase away Douma’s sickening touch from her skin, Y/N resolved, right there, that she was done with Wisteria. She thought she should be done with alcohol as well, but she feared the symptoms of withdrawal – especially with how great her dependency on the two substances had grown over the last few months.

So, Y/N decided that she would never again allow those toxic little purple pills pass her lips, and slowly – but surely – wean herself off alcohol. She would not go back to the Kizuki, would not let herself give in to the temptations which flashed underneath the colorful strobe lights of the dance floor.

Her life, it appeared, depended upon it.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer smut #kny smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #kny sanemi #kny sanemi smut #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #hashira #hashira smut #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi smut #sanemi x you

611 notes · View notes

judesmoonbeauty · 24 days

Text

Fairytale Final Assessment 1st Anniversary SE: Jude Jazza's Epilogue ཐིཋྀ

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere.

CW: Brief mention of castration. Translation notes are marked with *** Alternate translation is marked with/// Hour Glass Banners Credit: @/natimiles ཐིཋྀ

Kate, your work has reached my ears. Thank you as always.

Therefore, I would like you to evaluate one thing.

I wonder if Jude, who is cursed, is worthy of the Crown.

After reading the letter from Her Majesty several times, I finally understood.

Just the other day, Jude and I were engaged in a battle over the Fairytale Keeper Continuation Agreement.

(Does that mean I'm going to assess Jude this time?)

(You're giving me the opportunity to make a fair judgment. Her Majesty is indeed very open-minded.)

(If it's an assignment, I have to face Jude properly and submit a report!)

There is no mention in the text that the person should be kept in the dark.

I mean, the quickest way to do that is to ask Jude himself about it, and his intentions to stay at Crown.

Jude: I don't know anything about that. When you ask someone for something, shouldn’t you pay them for the information?

(I can't for the life of me believe that he will tell me honestly….)

(Come to think of it, I never asked Jude in depth why he was at Crown.)

It’s said that he dared to sign a contract with Crown when Victor suspiciously approached him with a tearful face, I’m sure…. I’m not wrong that it was to get information you need.

(I guess I have no choice but to observe Jude...)

Ellis: Your brow’s wrinkled. Thinking?

Kate: Oh, Ellis.

Kate: Just in time! Do you know where Jude is today?

Ellis: It seems like Jude went on a mission after showing up at work. What's wrong?

Kate: Actually...

When I explained the reason, Ellis smiled.

Ellis: I'm joining Jude after this, so let’s go together.

Ellis led us to a pub with a suspicious atmosphere even though it was daytime.

There, Jude was in the middle of a cruel and merciless judgment.

Jude: Oy, no runnin’ away. The story is your usin’ illegal sleeping pills, messin’ ‘round with girls, and sellin’ ‘em off.

Scoundrels: Guh….!

Ellis: Kate , if bottles start flying, it won’t be safe, so stay here and hide.

Ellis: I’ll be there.

Kate: Ah, yes! Ellis, be careful not to get hurt too.

Ellis: Jude, here you go.

Jude: Tsk, what’re ya waitin’ for?

Ellis: I'm sorry. I'll try a little harder to make up for my tardiness.

I watch Jude and Ellis fight together from the shadows.

Liquor bottles and people lightly fly through the air, and the sound of blows rings out.

(Hmmm...this is what it means to scream.)

(This is supposed to be a Crown assignment.)

Jude does not follow the orders of others unconditionally unless the conditions are acceptable.

Therefore, there must be a reason why Jude accepted this mission.

In the meantime, everyone had fallen to the ground.

Jude: What, ya think I'm gonna kill ya? I’m not gonna to kill ya.

Jude: There's a coal mine at the far end of the country, and I thought it’d be fun doin’ manual labor there.

Scoundrels: ……. A coal mine?

Jude: Before you go to a cold, dark, and fun place, I'll give you a present.

Jude: Ellis, take ‘em to the black market surgeon later. Hand ‘em all over to be castrated.

Ellis: Yeah, okay. If it makes you happy, Jude.

As the thugs screamed in despair, Jude put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Jude: The prevalence of inferior products is proof that the drugs weren’t distributed sufficiently.

Jude: ……Guess we’ll just have to handle it ourselves.

Jude's company eliminates the value of inferior products by distributing the correct products.

(That’s how Jude tries to eliminate evil at its source.)

Thanks to all the time I've spent, I had unintentionally come to understand Jude's way of doing things.

(The method may be as radical as ever.)

(But, there are somethings you can not protect with a straightforward approach. That’s why…)

Kate: Jude is absolutely essential to Crown…..

Jude: So, how long are you going to be sneaking around in there?

Kate: ….ah.

I was thrown onto a bed in a room at the back of the pub, and his hands restrained me while lying down.

Jude: You’re a real bad princess for peeping without permission.

Jude: So, what are you up to now?

Kate: That’s…..

Jude: I could torture ya and make ya spit it out. You're a pervert who expects to be tortured, aren't ya?

I could smell the scent of sandalwood wafting from Jude, and my body temperature seemed to rise once.

Jude: Ha. Why’re ya lookin’ so hopeful? Ya really are a pervert who likes things that feel good.

Kate: T-that's wrong! Actually-

Jude: Hmmm, reverse assessment.

Jude: That's just like that woman who loves fairness. ***

Jude: So, ya followed me ‘round to review me. You've come a long way.

Kate: As for following you around without telling you, I'm sorry.

Kate: But thanks to that, I was able to reaffirm what’s important to me.

Jude: What?

Kate: You are definitely suited for the Crown.

Jude: Ha. Who d’ya think ya are?

Kate: I’m a fairytale keeper. Hehe, I think I can write a good report with this.

Kate: I'll write it perfectly, so you can rest assured, Jude. Well then, I'm -

Jude: Why’re ya tryin’ to go home? There's no way ya could just spy on me and go for free.

Kate: Eh.

Jude: There's another matter to tend to.

Jude: I just need a decoy. You love hide-and-seek, don't ya?

Kate: A decoy!?

Jude: Poor thing. Ya wanna go home, but can’t. Pay the price for sneaking without permission.

Kate: Oh, come on….!

Jude: Those defiant eyes are so temptin’.

Amethyst eyes looked down at me cruelly becoming distorted.

Kate: In the report, you know I can write down all of your actions, Jude.

Jude: Write, write. However…

Jude leaned forward and looked into my face.

Jude: You...wouldn't you be lonely without me?***

Kate: …….

Kate: That’s not true….!

Jude: Huh. What are ya upset ‘bout?

[Master List]

***白々しい This appears to be a nuance: Jude’s being insincere about the Queen’s apparent fairness. It can be rendered white-wash, insincere, bare-faced (lie), shameless, but I felt that this was used just to explain his insincerity or doubtfulness in the Queen. ***Just to clarify, Kate is essentially threatening that what she writes in her report about Jude can cause his dismissal from Crown. So, that's why he tells her to write it, but.....she'll miss him, won't she?

#ikemen villains #Ikemen villains translations #ikevil #ikevil translations #jude jazza #ikevil jude #ikemen jude #ikemen jude jazza #cybird translations #ikevil spoilers #ikevil jp #ikevil jp spoilers

101 notes · View notes

yankstrash · 1 year

Text

I’ve Got You ~ Rutger McGroarty

Warnings: Mentions of attempted SA, swearing, underage drinking, slight physical harm & fighting

Dating a UMich hockey player meant that all your Friday nights consisted of going to a party at the sophomore house, and tonight was no different. You stood in the kitchen, clad in skinny jeans and your favorite red tank top that revealed just enough cleavage, drinking and laughing with Luke and Ethans girlfriends. The three of you sipped mindlessly on whatever sugary punch the freshman boys whipped up tonight as you watched them yell at each other from across the pong table.

Looking over at your boyfriend, Rutger, you made brief eye contact as he sent a smirk and wink your way. You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head, a small blush appearing on your cheeks at the sight of your beautiful boy.

To a lot of people, Rutger had a very intimidating demeanor. While the people closest to him knew he was a total sweetheart and extremely caring, those not close to him did not. He was 6’1”, built, athletic and overall had an intimidating look to his face, making it easy to ward off boys at parties who dared even look your way. It wasn’t usually a problem anyways, as you and Rutger were attached at the hip 90% of the time at parties. Tonight, however, was one of those rare nights where you both kept more to your respected friend groups; at least for now.

After a few more minutes of giggling at anything and everything, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, as you had just finished your third cup of punch. You approached the bathroom and were met with a line at least 10 people deep.

Fuck that, you had to go.

Taking advantage of your hockey girlfriend title, you wandered upstairs, which was usually off limits at parties, to use one of the guys' bathrooms. Off limit rules do not apply to girlfriends, duh. As you approached the top of the stairs, you swore you felt a presence not far behind you, but you ignored it assuming it was just one of the guys. You slipped into Ethans bathroom and took care of your business. Just as you finished drying your hands, your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Pulling it out, you smiled as you saw a text from Rutger.

“Where are you? I don’t spot your pretty face in the kitchen anymore :(”

Your smile grew wider as you read the text, shooting one back saying that you were in the bathroom and would be down in a second. Even when you and Rutger weren’t side by side at a party, he always liked you to be in his eyesight to keep an eye on you.

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you turned and opened the bathroom door, but were barely out of it when you were approached by an unfamiliar boy. Normally this wouldn’t make you uneasy, there were random guys lingering all over the party. However, the only ones allowed up here were the hockey guys, and he was not one of them.

You jumped back slightly as he was standing quite close to the door frame.

“My bad, didn’t mean to scare you.” The boy said.

“It’s okay.” You replied, debating on whether or not you should mention how he’s not allowed up here. You decided to just leave it be, he probably was just going to do his business and leave. Deciding to stay silent, you tried to move past him and head back downstairs, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m Jake.” He said, standing in your way.

You sent him a shy smile back, nodding your head slightly, not returning the name gesture.

“And you are?” He pressed on when you stayed silent.

“I-” You started, but couldn’t find your words as you were growing more nervous as the seconds passed. “Sorry I just need to get back downstairs.” Was all you said as you managed to slip by him. Before you could get too far however, he grabbed your wrist.

“That’s not your name.” He said, as he kept a tight grip on your wrist that continued to grow stronger, sure to leave a mark.

“Please let go of me.” You said, barely audible as your voice grew shaky.

“I guess I could go without a name, five minutes is all I’ll need anyways.” He replied, as he started to drag you back towards the bathroom. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you realized what was happening.

“Please let go of me!” You repeated, using your free hand to attempt to pry your other one out of his grip, but he was much bigger and stronger than you. “I have a boyfriend.” You said. You wanted to start wailing for Rutger, but it would be no use. You were all the way upstairs and the party was way too loud for anyone to hear you.

“Pretty sure if you had a boyfriend he wouldn’t let a girl as pretty as you be wandering around a party by yourself.” Was all he said as he attempted to keep dragging you towards the bathroom.

Using all your strength possible, you managed to slip your wrist out of his grip, kneeing him in the groin before turning and flying down the stairs. You could’ve sworn you missed over half of them, but you didn’t care. Your only concern right now was getting to Rutger.

Or Ethan. Or Luke. Or Mark. Or Mackie. Or literally anyone you knew at this moment.

Pushing your way past people, you finally made it back to the kitchen. The first familiar face you saw was Mark, and you ran straight up to him, crashing into his chest. He barely budged as he was much bigger than you, and used his hands to steady you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Y/N?” He asked, confused. “What’s going on?” Tears began to spill out of your eyes as you tried to catch your breath, heaving in and out.

“This guy, he- he.” You choked out, but your words kept getting caught in your throat. That was all any of the boys needed to hear before they were scrambling off to find Rutger.

“He what? What guy? What did he do?” Mark rapidly fired questions, as he pulled you slightly away from his chest to talk to you face to face.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to try to explain, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped immediately, clinging back to Mark before you realized who it actually was.

“Y/N! Baby, it’s me, it’s me, it’s Rut!” You heard the voice of your boyfriend, and wasted not a second more releasing Mark and spinning around to embrace your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, shhh, shhh, calm down baby it’s okay, I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

You gripped his waist tightly, as if he would disappear if you held on any looser. He used one hand to cradle the back of your head, as the other was rubbing your back up and down soothingly.

He managed to pull you away enough to be able to talk to you. “Baby, can you tell me what happened?” He asked, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out were choked sobs. You were terrified. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t managed to get away from that guy.

Rutger didn’t pry, he only held your head against his chest again and soothed you. He held you for a few more moments before trying to get you to talk again.

“Y/N, sweet girl, I will hold you as long as you need, but I need you to tell me what happened and with whom so I can take care of it. Then I promise I will not let you go for the rest of the night.” Rutger reassured. With that, you pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

“I was using E-Ethan’s b-bathroom a-and some g-guy tried to…” You started, choking on your words. “He t-tried to pull me in w-with him when I was trying t-to l-leave.” You managed to get out in between shaky breaths. Rutgers body immediately went rigid, and his expression froze as he clenched his jaw.

“And he hurt me.” You sobbed out the last part, which made Rutgers head immediately whip down to examine your body for marks. You held up your wrist to him and showed him the bruises that were already forming. He gently took your arm in his hand as he looked at your wrist, his anger only growing more as the seconds passed.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask who did this, there was an unknown presence approaching the group of hockey boys. “There you a- oh fuck.” The unknown presence said, but you recognized the voice. It was Jake, who stopped briskly in his tracks as he saw what he just walked into. About ten hockey players, one of them being your boyfriend who currently had steam coming out of his ears.

“Baby, is that him?” Rutger asked, as you turned around in his arms and met the eyes of the guy who tried to assault you.

You nodded your head yes and gripped onto Rutger tighter, which made him feel guilty about letting go of you, but he had to take care of this guy.

“Luca.” Rutger said, still staring straight at the guy, who tried walking away before Nolan and Mark grabbed him.

Luca was right up beside Rutger once he said his name. “Take her, please. I need to go deal with this.” Rutger said, as he began to let go of you. When you felt him loosening his grip on you, you only clung tighter.

“No no, please, please don’t leave me!” You said, as tears began falling again. Rutger felt so guilty for leaving you, as all he wanted to do was hold you as tight as possible and tell you everything was going to be okay. And he would, right after he taught Jake a lesson.

“Y/N, baby I promise I will be back in 5 minutes, okay? You stay with Luca, he’ll keep you safe. I know you love your Wu Poo hugs.” Rutger said, using the nickname you had given Luca, giving you one last squeeze before passing you over to his best friend.

If Rutger couldn’t be with you in this moment, you were glad Luca was, as he was also one of your closest friends that you trusted with your life. Releasing your boyfriend, you clung to Luca.

“I will be back soon love, I promise.” Rutger said, giving you a kiss on your head and turning to Luca. “Do not leave her side, and do not let her see any of this.” Rutger said in Luca’s ear as he nodded.

“And you.” Rutger said, whipping around and looking at Jake who was still in the grasp of Nolan and Mark. “How dare you touch my girlfriend.” He said, walking up to Jake and ripping him right from Nolan and Mark with ease. “Let’s go have a little chat, yeah?” He finished, dragging the guy outside with half the guys in his trail.

You tried to look over to where Rutger was taking him, but Luca used his hand to shield your face from the scene. “No no, don’t look Y/N. It’s okay, cmon, let’s go sit down.” Luca said as he led you over to the couch. You both sat down as Luca pulled you into his side while you placed your head on his chest and held him tightly. He rubbed your back in a soothing manner. Luca knew how much you meant to Rutger, and he was going to keep you safe while he was gone.

“Y/N?” You heard, as you looked up from Lucas' chest to see Ethan’s girlfriend, who was your closest girlfriend on the team. “E just told me what happened.” She said as she sat down next to you, and you released Luca to hug your friend.

“Want me to go help Rut kick his ass?” She asked, which earned a laugh from you. “You definitely could if Eddy would let you.” A couple of the other guys came over to make sure you were okay and talk to you to distract you from whatever Rutger was doing outside.

Within minutes, the backdoor opened and the guys all filed back inside. Rutger looked around for you, unable to spot you. “Where’s my Y/N?” He asked frantically. Nolan spotted you on the couch and pointed. Rutger immediately rushed over to you, shaking out his hand in the process as it was already bruising from what he did to Jake.

“Baby.” He said, kneeling down in front of where you were sitting on the couch. You sat up immediately and wrapped your arms around his neck. You didn’t even care what he had done to Jake, you were just glad he was back.

“I’m taking you home.” He said as you nodded your head and you began to stand up, your arms still around Rutgers neck as he took this as a sign that you wanted to be carried. In one swift motion he lifted you off the couch and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I’m taking her home, I’ll see you guys later.” Rutger said to the group as he released one hand from your back to do his handshake with Luca and thank his best friend for looking after you.

Rutger wasn’t drinking tonight, so you two got into his car and headed off. The car ride was mostly silent besides Rut asking you whether you wanted to stay at your place or his place tonight, to which you responded his.

Once you guy got to his apartment he opened your door for you and helped you out of the car, keeping his arm around your waist all the way till you got to his room.

“Stay here baby.” He said as you sat down on his bed while he scurried off to get some of your clothes. You kept some clothes at his apartment seeing as you were there half the time. You sat on the edge of his bed, holding your arms in your hands. You felt distressed and unsettled after the events that took place tonight.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would make you feel a bit better. “Rut, I’m gonna shower real quick.” You said to him as he was gathering your clothes in his closet.

“Okay baby, are you okay by yourself or do you want me to come with you?” He asked. You shook your head as you said, “I’ll be okay.” And headed off to his bathroom.

You stepped into the shower, and mainly just stood under the water and let it hit you, trying to cleanse away what happened tonight. You kept thinking about what almost happened with Jake, and it made you feel uneasy and sick. After a while, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading back to Rut’s room.

When you got back, he was laying in bed on his phone. He sat up when he saw you and gestured towards the clothes on his bed. “Here you go baby.” He gently smiled as he handed you the clothes. You noticed it was a pair of your sleep shorts, underwear and one of your tank tops.

You smiled weakly and took the clothes from him. “Could I wear one of your shirts?” You quietly asked. Ruts face softened at your question. You were so precious and fragile right now. “Of course you can.” He said as he got up to retrieve one for you.

He came back moments later with a Michigan hockey shirt in his hands. You dropped the towel from around you and slipped on your underwear and sleep shorts before you let your boyfriend slip his shirt on you, which draped down to your knees.

You picked up the towel and hung it back up in the bathroom while Rutger got situated in bed. Once you came back into his room, he was already laying down, waiting to hold you. “C’mere baby.” He cooed as you turned off his light and slipped into bed next to him, immediately clinging to him.

You laid right on top of him as he rubbed your back and calmed you down. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered so you could barely hear it. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” He said, and you lifted yourself up a bit to look at him in the dimly lit room.

“You were there, Rut. You were there when I came running to you. You made sure I was with someone you trusted and made sure I didn’t see anything while you dealt with the guy. You got me out of there and took care of me. You did everything you could, so please don’t beat yourself up over it.” You said, holding his face in your hands.

He swallowed hard and nodded his head. “Okay.”

You leaned in and placed a long, gentle kiss on his lips, before pulling away and nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck. He kissed your forehead and ran his fingers up and down your back.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you more, and I will always protect you. I promise.”

#rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty blurb #umich hockey #hockey imagine #hockey blurb

734 notes · View notes

husbandhoshi · 2 years

Text

three’s a crowd [m]

pairing: haechan x jeno x f!reader

wc: 3.5k

summary: maybe you can have your cake and eat it too, although your friends certainly don’t make it easy.

notes: established relationship!haechan meets bff!jeno, pwp, college!au, sub!reader, threesome hijinks, slight exhibitionism, unprotected piv sex, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, cumplay, breeding, thigh fucking, slight degradation/dirty talk, embarrassing banter, mentions of alcohol

it’s not one of your finest moments, you think, when your top is off and haechan’s hand is up your skirt, and the door is just open enough to reveal a very stunned jeno.

if only any of you were drunk enough to have this be a distant memory in the morning—unfortunately, you learned too late that your faith in mark’s intuition was sorely misplaced when he showed up with half a handle of seltzers and the remnants of what looked like a world war 2 era vodka bottle.

worse, all it took was one sad blackberry white claw (that you split with haechan), a handful of risky texts, and mark passing out on the couch after one and a half shots to find yourself in the unfortunate position of being half-naked in your best friend’s bedroom.

“oh my god, jeno—,” you hiss urgently, but his deer in the headlights gaze does not waver.

your back is pressed against haechan’s chest and your legs tucked behind his to keep them spread—even if you wanted to shoo jeno away and shut the door you couldn’t.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” haechan whispers. he nips at your earlobe between words. “this ok with you?”

you feel jeno’s eyes burning holes into you (or your panties), and for some reason your brain has been astoundingly silent when it comes to even thinking about telling him to go.

jeno stands there, broad chest rising with another shaky breath, all flushed with his pupils blown out, and you’re coming to terms with the fact that, yes, there is something inexplicably hot about watching your best friend watch you get off.

you nod (perhaps a little too enthusiastically), and that’s all haechan needs to proceed.

a threesome is something you’ve all talked about before, and although you’d have preferred it to be much different (perhaps not on the goddamn ground, for starters), something about the impromptu nature of it all has your blood running hotter than normal.

haechan continues working you over, movements deliberate—he wants jeno to watch. his fingertips brush over the thin panel of fabric covering your cunt, dragging just enough to make you dizzy, as he kisses the side of your neck.

you’re not sure whether it’s the graze of haechan’s teeth over your pulse or the way you cannot seem to break eye contact with jeno, but your mind is everywhere and nowhere at once.

your resolve finally breaks when he pushes your panties aside (soaked) to lazily press on your clit.

“ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to stop your thighs from shaking and hips from bucking up into his hand.

another helpless moan, and jeno drops his empty seltzer can, something you would laugh at if you weren’t fighting the pathetic urge to cum just from some heavy petting.

“fuck,” he groans. it comes from his chest, a gravelly, deep sound, and even hearing it makes your toes curl.

“you just gonna stand there and watch?” haechan looks up from the littering of marks on your shoulder to meet jeno’s eyes. “look, i’d ask you out to dinner first before we all fuck, but i figure you’re more of a dessert guy?”

you fight the need to throttle your boyfriend for his inability to read the room, but he doesn’t stop playing with your clit, something he is regrettably very good at.

“yeah. fuck.” jeno’s sweatpants drop so fast they might as well be made of lead. you can see the outline of his dick through his briefs, and you wonder how big it is, how it would feel in your guts.

complicating things, haechan is now shallowly pumping a few fingers in you, taking care to press the heel of his palm into your swollen clit.

“haechan, fuck,” you moan, grinding into his hand. “i’m gonna cum—”

then he stops.

“aww, so fast. baby can’t handle the thought of being fucked in both holes, huh? getting all tight around me just thinking about it?”

haechan pulls his fingers out to slap your cunt, really just a few mean pats, but you’re so wound up, your whole body locks up and a pitiful whimper is ripped from your throat. he’s right, the only thing you want is to be split open right now, and the fake pity in his voice is doing crazy things to the building ache in your pussy.

“jeno,” haechan starts. “do you wanna taste?” he nips at your earlobe. “how’s that sound, baby? you want him to make you cum?”

“y-yes,” you plead. jeno stands there and blinks at you. “yes, now please hurry the fuck up.”

you think you can actually physically feel your life force dwindle away every three seconds it takes for jeno to undo a button on his mile-long button up shirt.

it’s some combination of the sheer desperation in your voice and the sight of your cunt, all slick and puffy from your arousal, that breaks jeno. (or maybe it’s the way haechan laughs, clearly enjoying watching two embarrassingly horny people try to get anything done.)

“fuck it.” jeno pulls his still half-buttoned shirt over his head and gets on his knees. oh my god, lee jeno is on his knees, but you barely have time to process anything else before things roll into motion.

haechan grabs your thighs and holds them spread, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. you feel the cold air on your cunt, the wetness dripping onto the ground. you’re shaking with anticipation and right now there is nothing more you want than for jeno to eat you out.

the first touch of his tongue to your pussy sends your back arching so hard you almost pull a muscle, and you cry out.

“fucking dirty, huh? you like watching yourself getting eaten out by your best friend?” haechan asks in a low voice, moving his hands up from your legs to play with your tits, giving them a hard squeeze.

“m-mmhm—” you can’t move; you’re caged between these two bodies, and all you can do is take the pleasure as it comes to you like a speeding train.

you’re a moaning mess, your hands tangled in jeno’s hair as he licks your cunt dry. you’re bucking into his face, but he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him. he’s so eager, you can’t decide if he’s just experienced or if doing this to you has ever crossed his mind, but both possibilities make you a little dizzy.

as if he’s read your mind, haechan starts, “she’s so mean, huh, jeno?” jeno kisses your clit at about the same time haechan bites your collarbone, and you twitch pathetically in haechan’s firm embrace. “my baby’s getting all worked up from seeing you on your knees, knowing you can’t have her?”

jeno nods fervently but never once unseals his mouth from your cunt, and you just might positively cry.

you feel his tongue first in your slit, lapping shallowly at your walls, and his nose bumps your clit; the dual stimulation makes you teary-eyed with pleasure. then, he moves to suck the bud, and a finger prods at your entrance before pushing in. he’s shy, but the literal intensity he’s eating you out with is giving you a near out of body experience.

“fuck, jeno, you’re so—fuck,” you groan, head lolled to the side as he finger fucks you. “take notes, haechan,” you heave in between breaths, and, knowing you, he scoffs in reply (rightly so. it’s almost terrifying how he seems to know your pussy better than you.) and rolls your nipples between his fingers. it’s such a small thing, but you swear the sensation goes straight down to your core.

“more, more,” you beg, hurtling towards a second orgasm.

“she has the audacity to ask after saying that?” you can easily visualize your boyfriend rolling his eyes, but you choose to focus on the telltale smile he presses to your cheek instead.

anyhow, you’re lucky jeno’s nicer than haechan—he immediately complies, adding a second digit. his fingers feel so thick in you, and you savor every moment of it. the pads of his fingers drag against your walls as they curl nicely, adding to the building pressure in your stomach.

it doesn’t help how he moans every time you jerk into him, and you truly feel powerless in the best way possible.

haechan watches intently, and you can tell he’s enjoying the show even if he’s not participating much in it. his cock is rock hard, pressed up against your back, and it’s driving you crazy how you want to fuck both men so bad.

“jeno, i’m—” he knows even before you get the words out, and he pumps two fingers in you, tongue flicking your bud. and you cum, hips arching and voice almost raw from moaning.

he sits up to kiss you, more tenderly than you’ve ever imagined, and you melt in it.

it’s no secret that you had the biggest crush on him when you were kids, back when you were neighbors. he was the boy next door of every girl’s dreams, and it certainly didn’t help how he, as loyal as ever, spent nearly every second of every summer by your side.

of course, as times changed and feelings faded, you both quickly realized things worked much better as friends (to both your mothers’ dismay). somehow, jeno predicted you and haechan falling in love before either of you ever saw it coming.

(you remember it clearly. no one ever argues that much! he had said in his characteristically level voice, although his sheer conviction admittedly terrified you. and in true best friend fashion, when he eventually was proven very right, he made you buy him a milkshake.)

now, as you savor the almost ethereal sight of jeno wiping your cum off his chin, you now know sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too.

“got more left in you?” haechan asks nicely, but you know it’s more of a command. “hope you’re ready to take two cocks at once.”

you’re still catching your breath, but it seems your body has already decided, as you nod quickly. “only one way to find out,” you croak. “but can we please do it on the bed?” haechan laughs at your insistence, but it’s the warm, melty, the in love kind of laugh.

“spoiled, are we?” is his reply, but both men help you up onto the bed. and it’s a goddamn blessing no one is thinking straight enough to notice that you’re about to get railed on the sheets your childhood crush sleeps on.

your cheeks are colored with both humiliation and anticipation as you settle on all fours—you’re really letting your cunt take charge, but who can blame you?

it seems haechan is being generous today, and he positions his cock between your lips and lets jeno kneel behind you.

“ready?” he asks you quietly, tipping your chin up with an index finger. it’s almost intimate, tender, save for the fact you are about to be fucked in two holes.

instead of answering, you lean forward and take his cock in your mouth, at first shallowly to tease him a little. the weight is warm and familiar on your tongue, and you suck hard around his weeping cockhead.

“shit, fuck,” haechan groans, carding a hand through his hair.

jeno doesn’t miss a beat. he slides his cock in between your pussy lips a few times for prep before you feel him push in first slowly, then all at once.

your eyes roll back into your head. fuck, you knew jeno was big—but not that big.

you moan around haechan’s dick, and he pushes right back into your throat, causing you to gag.

“aw, shit, sorry,” haechan says, tucking your hair behind your ears and moving his hands to cradle your cheeks. “jeno, what are you waiting for? don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

“actually,” jeno starts. he’s trying to sound casual, but you hear the grit of his teeth as you pulse around him. “i was going to ask you the same thing. how is she so fucking tight if you guys fuck all the time?”

he rocks out and then in again, still shallowly as you adjust to his girth. you swear you can feel every goddamn vein on his dick with how he’s splitting you open.

you don’t want to stop sucking haechan off, but you are seriously wrecked—something about jeno’s voice is dark, dangerous, and you really want to cum again.

“jeno, please,” you finally say, trying not to sound too desperate.

and so he fucks into you properly, hips slamming into your ass and hands digging into your sides, enough to bruise. those damn soccer players, you briefly think, but he makes sure even that thought is fucked out of you.

the momentum has you mouth fucking haechan, who has his eyes wrenched shut in pleasure. you can’t take your eyes off him—he’s so pretty, moaning loud as you suck him off hard.

“he’s ruining my view,” jeno tells you, jerking a thumb at haechan.

“fuck you,” he replies. “never inviting you to a threesome again.”

and you would deeply resent the fact that it’s not just haechan who can’t read the room if you weren’t grateful you still had the wherewithal to laugh for a brief moment before you keen in pleasure again.

it seems like jeno’s close, with the way he’s fucking you more erratically. your throat squeezes around haechan as you struggle to keep a lid on your moans; every time you take him down that far, you feel the glorious feeling of his hands wrenching up in your your hair, hear the voice you love so much.

jeno’s quick and dirty—when you feel his dick twitch in you as he gets closer, he reaches between your thighs and presses your clit ever so softly.

“oh fuck, jeno, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as haechan’s dick slides out of your mouth with a slick pop. he sits back on his feet and lazily strokes himself, content with watching you get railed hard.

“close?” jeno asks, applying more pressure to your clit. he slows his pace, instead deciding to fuck you deep and hard.

you hang your head, thighs shaking and voice quivering. “so close, jeno— please—” blinking through teary eyes, you watch haechan’s hand twist over his cock so expertly, and you revel how he also takes pleasure in how utterly fucked out jeno’s cock has made you.

with another careful touch to your clit, jeno sends you over again, dick hard against your walls and moving so slowly you can feel every inch of it. you cum so hard, he groans when you clench around him, and he cums like this too and fucks you through both your orgasms.

“h-haechan, it’s so much,” you moan, gripping at the sheets with white knuckles.

“yeah? jeno, fill her up,” haechan orders, and god, it’s so good, so warm and wet and sloppy in your spent pussy.

you’re shaking, and you can feel jeno’s cum leaking out of your hole as his dick slides out. “haechan...” you manage. “you didn’t cum.”

you look up, only to see him smiling. “oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you?”

you swallow hard.

“watch and learn, jeno.” haechan positions himself behind you.

jeno, already satisfied and basking in the warmth of his orgasm, is content with laying back against the headrest and watching (how does he still look like a greek god?).

first haechan grabs a fistful of your hair, then pushes you into the sheets. you can’t help but whimper a bit. he’s been rough before—but something tells you he wants to put on a real show.

and then you feel his other hand come down hard on your ass.

“fuck,” you moan into the pillow. you’ve cummed twice now, but your hole clenches in anticipation. you feel more cum leak out of your hole and onto the bed. there’s more on the apex of your thighs, warm and milky and sticky.

“jeno, you seeing this?” haechan asks, horribly confident grin plastered on his face.

“fuck—” jeno’s hand finds his cock again, and he starts playing with himself.

he slaps your ass again, and you keen into the sheets. then his hand rubs over your skin, hot and smarting, and it takes everything you have not to lean up into his touch.

haechan slides his dick between your lips, coating it with cum. “you wanna get filled up, huh? walk home with cum down your legs?”

“p-please...need you to cum in me.” you’re humiliated, this is absolutely mortifying. the words just fall out of your mouth without a second thought, but part of you loves it, and you know your boyfriend does too. and jeno is staring so hard, you’re surprised no one’s told him to take a picture so it lasts longer.

with your head in the sheets and your hole literally dripping, he fucks you. hard. harder than jeno, who seemed to retain a bit of romance and apprehension.

you cry out, muffled by the pillow.

“he said i don’t fuck you hard enough,” haechan says to you, jaw clenched. “what do you think?”

you can’t even form a complete sentence, and you just whine into the pillow. your voice comes out in bursts, like he’s knocking the sound out of you.

haechan would never let you forget how good he is with his hips, and with every time he draws back and fucks into you, you swear you’ve never felt anything better.

“fuck, you’re still so tight,” he swears. “bet you like this, huh, slut? just a fucking cocksleeve for us?”

“mm—mhm—”

then he pulls you up by your hair, and your back arches up, causing his dick to angle so good against your walls, hitting your g-spot just right.

“fuck—yes, yes,” you gasp. “please please please please—”

“what’re you asking for, honey?” haechan asks, cruelly pulling out to fuck his cockhead between your thighs, all sloppy with cum. “what do you think she wants, jeno?”

you glance over and see jeno stroking himself off, eyes transfixed on you. and unlike anything you had ever thought possible, he leans forward to clasp your jaw in his big hand. the added weight alone parts your lips slightly, and all you can do is gaze back at him with your glazed over eyes as you feel haechan’s rock hard cock fuck itself between your legs.

“use your words,” he tells you, thumb pressing right on your tongue so you can feel him. and you pray, pray, no one ever talks about this day again because you whine so loud, you think you might as well have woken mark up from his coma on the couch.

“f-fill me up,” you babble. “need your cock, channie.” and the second jeno takes his palm out from under your chin, you buckle back into the sheets with the impact of haechan bottoming out into you.

“fuck, you’re already knocked up with jeno’s cum. can you take another load? huh?”

“y-yes, yes.” you close your eyes tightly, bracing for another orgasm. his dick is swallowed by your fluttering walls, all you feel is tight, warm, and messy for him.

“so fucking good for me, huh? pussy’s gonna look so pretty all plugged up, fuck.”

you take a hazy glance to your side and see jeno’s hips canting up into his fist. you think about how his dick is covered in you and it sends sparks to your cunt.

you can tell haechan is close too, as his rhythm falls apart and he just fucks you deep and hard.

“kiss me,” you breathe, propping yourself up on your forearms to look back at haechan. through the waves of pleasure rocking through your body, you can even admire him now, his broad chest and the way he looks at you with such devotion.

and when he leans towards you, desperate and eager with love, to seal your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy, it offers jeno a glimpse of what your relationship is really like. haechan moans into your mouth, submitting easily to your touch, and you can hear jeno’s cry when he cums on his chest (the damn hopeless romantic).

but you’re no better, and as haechan catches your bottom lip between his teeth, you both hit your high, and you feel his cum shoot up into your hole. it’s so warm and wet feeling, and you wonder if it’ll feel like that for days.

you collapse onto your stomach. walking seems like a distant dream, and your entire lower body feels like wet jello. but it doesn’t matter, because haechan plants a kiss on the top of your head and all feels right in the world.

“where are you going?” you croak as you feel jeno’s weight leave the bed.

“i’m getting you a wet towel. you guys can stay here and keep being all gross or whatever.” jeno slips his briefs on and opens the bedroom door. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“still uninvited from the next threesome,” haechan calls after him, laughing when jeno merely flips him off in reply.

you’re drifting in and out of what just might be the fattest nap of your life when you hear mark holler from downstairs.

“shit man, where’d your clothes go?!”

jeno doesn’t respond.

“what the fuck did i miss!”

you and haechan can only laugh.

#ITS DONE!!!!!#also i’m sorry for my crimes against … well. everything!#it was hard writing the relationship dynamic but idk #also sorry to my carat only followers Lmao #nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #jeno smut #haechan x reader #jeno x reader #nct #mine #haechan #jeno

2K notes · View notes

universitypenguin · 2 months

Text

Chapter 26

Summary: Princess makes a worrying discovery while looking through Lloyd’s briefcase. Zach and Lloyd search Copper Ridge Quarry and have an argument. Meanwhile, Princess becomes entangled in the issue of a spy operating inside of Bishop & Howard.

Word Count: 5,024

Warnings: This story contains content that is intended for those who are at least eighteen years old, such as explicit sexual content, strong language, references to spying, murder, kidnapping and criminal elements.

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I did get this chapter published today as promised but editing took a really long time because it snowed here today, which was really depressing for me (come on, it’s March, give me sunshine) so I was feeling very unmotivated and lazy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Twenty-Six

As promised, you reviewed the footage of Nguyen’s interrogation. Two moments raised red flags. The first occurred when Lloyd mentioned Tate Corbin’s witness statement. From his previous interviews and court testimonies, you knew Nguyen wasn’t easily drawn into speculation, but the topic of his neighbor’s observations caused an abrupt change in his demeanor. Suddenly, he was eager to speculate. You marked the timestamp and wrote a note for Lloyd. The second red flag was more significant. As an interrogation subject, Nguyen was usually willing to answer questions, though the quality of his responses varied. That said, an outright refusal to respond was rare; in fact there was only one instance where it cropped up.

When questioned about his former colleague who testified against him at trial his evasion stood out sharply in contrast to his typical style of guarded cooperation. It caught your attention, so you annotated that spot as well. Nothing in particular jumped out at you as significant in the rest of the footage, but watching it all together, it irked you that Nguyen hesitated to challenge his colleague’s testimony. Most murder suspects protested vehemently when confronted with false accusations.

The fact that Nguyen didn’t was unsettling.

A staccato rap of knuckles on your door startled you from your musings. Landon stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow when he saw you massaging your temples.

“Headache?”

"Yeah. Re-watching Nguyen's interview is driving me nuts."

"Skip the aspirin this time."

You snorted. "Never again. What's up?"

"Jake and I have a stakeout. Need a ride home?"

"No. Lloyd's my ride, whenever he gets back."

"Text if you need us. Remember the silent alarm triggers are under the receptionist’s desk and in Zach’s office. He showed you?"

"Yeah, he did. Thanks."

- - - - -

After the guys left, the office was silent. You finished reviewing the interview footage and made an attempt at Lloyd’s strategy of listening to the interview audios alone, which proved fruitless. The audio alone was too dull to be endured. After saving your notes to the shared drive, you strolled around the office to stretch your legs. It was nearly nine o’clock, and there was still no word from Lloyd or Zach. You opened the tracking app on your phone and verified their location in the woods near Copper Ridge Quarry.

You needed a distraction, so you poked around in the share drive and read the report Lloyd had filed on his meeting with Tate Corbin. When you clicked through the attachments for his handwritten notes nothing came up. There were no attachments anywhere in his last few uploads so they hadn’t been filed mistakenly. Your gaze landed on the hazelnut leather briefcase he’d left beside your desk. After a brief debate, you decided he wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t snooping if there was a purpose, right? You lifted the briefcase to your desk and took a deep, steadying breath. As you unzipped the main compartment, your phone rang, making you almost jump out of your skin.

Jen’s face flashed on the caller ID.

You sank back against the cushioned backrest of your chair and answered. “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

“Not much, just checking in. How’s working from home?”

"It’s different. Kind of boring, but I’m getting a lot done.”

“I haven’t seen much of Lloyd around the office lately. Is he working from home, too?”

“He’s been doing a lot of field work,” you said, ducking the question.

“Mmmhh, really throwing himself into it, is he?”

Knowing Jen as long as you had, the dry tone of her voice tipped you off that she wouldn’t let the matter of Lloyd's absence go. She’d poke and prod and side-step you down the garden path until she had an explanation. You should’ve anticipated that the cover story Bishop had spread around the office, spinning your attack as a slip and fall by the pool, wouldn’t pass the smell test with Jen.

“Yeah. Things picked up a bit in the investigation… uh, new leads….”

“I’ve always appreciated that Lloyd goes after things like a force of nature.”

“Have you?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching into the front divider of Lloyd’s briefcase and pulling out a stack of files. The third degree was coming, and you knew it.

“He takes the bull by the horns,” Jen said.

“Interesting. Are you developing a soft spot for Lloyd?”

Jen snorted. “He’s right up there with Hawaiian pizza in my book.”

You laughed, flipping through the files. None of them were related to the Harmony case, so you set them aside and searched the second pocket in the briefcase.

“Wanna know something else about Lloyd?” you teased, hoping to distract Jen.

“Hmmm?”

“I only found this out recently, but he actually was a cowboy.”

“Are you for real?”

“Would I lie to you? He called me when he was in Idaho and told me about herding cattle and roping and my ovaries almost exploded.”

“I love that for you. Did he bring you pictures? Also, does this have anything to do with his odd choice of facial hair?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Right, you’re too young to remember Westerns. You know the old movies about Doc Holliday, The Sundance Kid, Wyatt Earp…? I could go on, but you get the point.”

“I’ll have to ask him,”

“How’s your neck?” Jen asked.

“A lot better.”

You cringed, waiting for the attack to begin.

“Mmmhh. Glad to hear it.”

There was a long pause and you held back, distracting yourself from the temptation of talking by opening the next compartment of Lloyd’s briefcase. There was a padfolio and a few more files. You opened one of them and found insurance paperwork for a 1971 Mercury Cougar.

“Listen, I heard about your fall by the pool from Bishop, and I know it was bullshit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t really talk about it, Jen. I’m sorry.”

“Talk about what, exactly?”

“Jen… I can’t tell you what’s going on, okay?”

“Is it personal? Professional? Does it have something to do with Lloyd?”

You blew out a breath, considering your answer. The stalking was personal, but the IP address that the stalker had used to hack your work laptop was definitely professional. If he’d hack your laptop, who was to say he hadn’t tapped Jen’s work line, too?

“I’m dealing with some personal stuff.”

“And you were in the hospital twice this past month. There was an ER visit at Georgetown University Hospital and another in Harmony.”

“How do you know about those?” you demanded.

“Your apartment building forwarded over a stack of mail. I saw the medical bills and figured they were ER visits, thanks for confirming, though. I didn’t actually open them.”

“I can’t share it yet, but me staying out of the office is what’s best for right now.”

“Why were you in the hospital?” Jen asked.

You rubbed your forehead and wondered why you chose to develop friendships with people who had the personalities of Jack Russell Terriers. “I hurt my neck, just like Bishop said. The other one was for a medication reaction, but it turned out fine.”

“Fine? But who picked you up from the hospital? Did you call your Mom? Never mind, don’t answer that, I know you didn’t. Have you told your Mom what’s going on?”

Jen meant well, and you knew that, but she’d never comprehend that your Mom didn’t take her responsibilities as a parent to heart the same way Jen did.

“I didn’t tell her I was in the hospital because it’s just not something she could handle. She’s kind of high strung,” you gently reminded her. “Lloyd drove me home both times.”

“So, Lloyd is taking care of you? Adequately?”

You rolled your eyes at her suspicious tone. “Yes, he’s shockingly good at playing nurse. And he can cook.”

“Thank goodness, I’ve been worried that you were subsisting on takeout alone.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” you said.

“Mmmhh. Well. I’m not trying to be pushy, honest. I just… worry about you.”

“I know that, Jen. Give me some time, okay? I’ll tell you everything when I can and hopefully I won’t seem like such an asshole then.”

“You’re not capable of being an asshole except when you’ve been provoked to it,” Jen said. “That’s why I’ve been so worried.”

“Thank you.”

You picked up another file that had been in Lloyd’s briefcase and leafed through it. Once you realized that it was a copy of Joe Hansen’s will, you snapped it shut. Jen’s voice morphed into the background as she turned the conversation to a recap of current affairs at the law firm. Why was Lloyd still carrying a copy of his father’s will? On a scale of one to ten, how much of a violation of privacy would it be to read… maybe just the first page? The first few pages? Your internal debate was interrupted by a gasp from Jen.

“I almost forgot to tell you! I met Mr. Howard the other day!”

“Mr. Howard?” You drew a blank, having been more preoccupied with the will than the conversation.

“Wilson Howard? The other half of Bishop & Howard? The infamously silent and absent founding partner of B&H…?”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, it was crazy, like stumbling on a unicorn on a jogging trail. He actually came into the office.”

“Why did he come in?”

“Because of you,” Jen said.

“What did I do?!”

“Remember the emails that you forwarded to HR? The ones from Westin Tafferty? According to the grape vine, they made their way up to Bishop, who responded by siccing Mr. Howard on Westin.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jen chuckled at your dismay. “He was here all morning and met with paralegals to get the tea on Westin before coming to visit me. He asked about you.”

“This is not good.”

“Relax,” Jen said. “He just wanted to know if Westin had harassed the whole paralegal department, or if he’d focused on you. And you’ll never guess what else I found out…”

“I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

Jen snickered. “Per Mr. Howard, there was a conversation between Mr. Bishop and Lloyd a month ago where Lloyd threatened to ‘use the Geneva Conventions as a to-do list’ if Westin kept bothering you.”

You buried your head in your hands, groaning, while Jen laughed.

“Anyways, after he’d interviewed the team he went down to HR and had a two hour chat with Westin, who denied everything, but given that it was a two hour meeting, I think we can guess how that went.”

“No one called me about this.”

“You’d already done your part by reporting him,” Jen said. “Also, according to my sources, Westin left that meeting looking very rattled.”

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“Ugh. Get a grip and cut that out, girl. You have no idea how incredibly therapeutic it was for the whole paralegal department to vent about Westin. The best part was that Mr. Howard just listened and took notes. If a man ever listened to me that attentively on a date, I’d jump his bones.”

You commiserated with her about Westin, and let the conversation drift back to the latest gossip from the office. When you finally hung up, you stood over the mess on your desk and examined the damage. It was littered with a treasure trove of mundane artifacts - five khaki file folders, a tin of mints, sticky notes, a travel tube of cologne, a power bank and phone charger, airpods, reading glasses, and three hundred dollars in cash. The files were what drew your eye.

Curiosity was killing you, especially about Joe Hansen’s last will and testament, but you forced yourself to set them aside. It would be a betrayal of trust and if the situation were reversed, you’d be offended if Lloyd went through your private documents without asking. You surveyed the items you’d strewn over the desk from Lloyd’s briefcase and sighed, dipping your hand into the last, smaller back pocket of the briefcase in search of the missing interview notes. Your fingers brushed against paper and for a moment, excitement surged, but instead of papers you pulled out an envelope.

Inside were three laminated bookmarks.

They were delicate and beautiful. One featured a bold splash of golden petals with a dark center like a miniature sun in bloom - a long stemmed Black-Eyed Susan. The other two flowers weren’t familiar. You inspected the bookmark that contained pale lavender flowers with tinges of blue, then examined the third marker, which featured pink petaled blossoms. Frustratingly, it was another flower you didn’t recognize. The pink flower reminded you of Prairie Phlox and Fire Pink, except to the best of your knowledge, no one had ever crossed those plants. There was no receipt in the envelope but when you flipped it over, the outside read: “Josephine.”

Your eyebrows raised. Josephine? Who the hell was Josephine? Why had she given Lloyd pressed flower bookmarks, and more confusingly, why had he accepted them?

It crossed your mind a second later that the floral bookmarks might be a gift for you. That was a logical enough explanation but it didn’t hold up to closer inspection. Lloyd took pride in being an excellent gift-giver. He knew your tastes, interests, and preferences. The bookmark with the Black-Eyed Susans would be the kind of gift he would give you, but the other two were decidedly not.

Using the plant identification app on your phone, you scanned the bookmarks to identify the flowers. The lavender flower was Common Camas and the pink was Elkhorn Clarkia. You didn’t recognize either name and when you checked the map of their native range, it made sense why you wouldn’t - they were native to the upper Northwest. Lloyd must have gotten these in Idaho. Frowning at the bookmarks, your mood slid from confused to suspicious, then darkened.

Your chest was tight and your heart pounded out a chorus of eighth notes, turning your skin hot. The floral bookmarks weren’t something Lloyd would keep without a good reason. On the envelope, you inspected the handwriting of the name ‘Josephine’ and confirmed it was Lloyd’s. Who was Josephine? Did she live in Idaho or had she traveled there for his father’s funeral? Did they spend time together while he was there? Was she the real reason he’d neglected to call you while he was gone? There was a horrible feeling in your gut that you couldn’t ignore.

The realization that there were parts of Lloyd that you were completely closed off from hit like a slap in the face. There were sides to him you’d never seen. He had a past that transcended the three years you’d shared. Of course that was normal, but the utter lack of awareness you had of Lloyd’s past wasn’t normal at all. If you knew who Josephine was, maybe these bookmarks wouldn’t make your heart slam against your rib cage. You’d know if she were a matronly ex-neighbor or an ex-girlfriend. That was something you ought to know, and the fact that you didn’t have a clue made your stomach churn. It seemed that beneath the veneer of trust you had in Lloyd there was an abyss of uncertainty. While your friendship had been built on healthy habits, it was painfully obvious that your romance lacked the same sturdiness. The dawning awareness that all it took was three flimsy bookmarks to fracture your relationship burned.

You took a deep breath and tucked the floral bookmarks into the envelope and returned it to the same pocket. Then you began methodically returning all the items back to their original position, careful to order them exactly how you’d found them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A strange chemical scent hung in the air. Lloyd wrinkled his nose and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste of rotten eggs. He stood with Zach at the chain link fence that sealed off Copper Ridge from the rest of the world, looking up at the double rows of twelve-foot high razor wire topped fencing. The sight reminded him of prison.

Decorating the fence were brightly colored posters signaling danger lay ahead.

Zach coughed into his elbow. “This place smells like my grandmother’s garden, but way, way, worse.”

“What?” Lloyd asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her garden plot had alkaline soil, so she treated it with Lime-Sulfur every spring.” Zach coughed again, then examined the warning posters. “Arsenic, sulfur, lead, benzene, radiation… What did they do? Nuke this place?”

“That probably would’ve done less environmental damage.”

“Check those security cameras,” Zach said, tilting his chin at the gate post.

“We can assume the killer isn’t just driving up to the main gate.”

“Given what they’re containing up here, those cameras probably aren’t new.”

“He must have a more discrete method of accessing the site,” Lloyd agreed.

“So, we’re hiking the perimeter?”

“It’s due diligence. The three bodies we have prove that we’re looking for an experienced hiker who isn’t afraid of moving his victims over rough terrain.”

“The perimeter is thirteen miles and the sun’s about to go down.”

“Got an extra flashlight?”

Zach smirked, and quipped, “one is none.”

Their flashlight beams were necessary under the thick canopy of vegetation, even with the sun still shining overhead. The trees cast long shadows and stretched their fingers across the forest floor. Recently fallen leaves squished under their feet as they followed the fence line, still too wet to crunch. Crisp air whipped against his neck and Lloyd flipped up the collar of his jacket.

“I hope Princess doesn’t intend on letting your genes into her bloodline. Not after this.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd muttered.

Zach snickered. “Touched a nerve, eh?”

“You’re getting exposed to this shit right along with me, asshole.”

“Not really. I had a procedure in the 90s to ensure none of my swimmers were medal contenders.”

“For the love of all that is holy, please shut up.”

“Why didn’t you bother with a vasectomy? Nervous about someone poking around down there?” Zach asked.

“Getting clipped has never been on my agenda.”

Zach stopped abruptly. “You want kids? Really?”

“Fuck no! You of all people get why.”

“I do. Hence, the vasectomy I got at twenty.”

“I don’t want kids,” Lloyd stated.

“Your actions say otherwise,” Zach said.

“No, they don’t. All my actions say is… Why are we having this conversation?”

“What about Princess?”

“What about her?”

“Does she want kids?” Zach asked.

“How should I know?!”

“You’re dating her.”

“This is what you want to talk about right now?” Lloyd demanded.

“Does she?”

“Come on, we’re in the middle of something. Now isn’t the time.”

“What are your intentions towards Princess in the long term?”

“Zach, are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“Why would I bother digging a grave when I know this place exists? Answer the question. Where is this thing with Princess going? Are you serious about her?”

“She’s important to me, of course I’m serious.”

The blond man’s eyes sharpened. “Serious is different than being serious about her. Are you going to move in together? Get married?”

“Move in where? The townhouse? Her place? She was nearly strangled in my backyard and Aiden planted a camera at her apartment.”

“Fine, sell both places, combine funds and get a house with a yard for the kids. I’m in Thursday night golf league with a couple realtors. You want me to hook you up?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Zach agreed cheerfully. “Look, the past three months are the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Princess, too. But I also know your track record with relationships so I need to know that you’ve got your head screwed on straight when it comes to her.”

“I appreciate that,” Lloyd said.

“Good. When are you going to talk to her about moving in together?”

“Have you always been this pushy?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, damn it!”

“You’ve been dating for three months. Figure it out,” Zach said.

Lloyd sighed. “Three months isn’t very long.”

“Sure, but the math is different for you two. You were friends first.”

“She’s my best friend. I don’t want to see her hurt. Not by a stalker, or anything else.”

“Look, Lloyd, Princess is a good friend to me, too. I don’t want to see her hurt either. She’s going to need a commitment from you soon and what I’m trying to ask is this: how close are you to giving her that?”

“You know my track record with relationships,” Lloyd deflected.

“I also know your track record with Princess. You’ve never disappointed her before and I’d prefer not to see you screw that up.”

“I care about her, Zach. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and I don’t want to lose her or hurt her.”

“But you’re afraid you will.”

“My issues with women are legendary.”

Zach snorted. “Let’s not pretend they’re just with women. You’ve got issues with everything.”

“I’m not the white picket fence happily ever after type of guy.”

Silence descended, lingering in the air, as if Zach was waiting for Lloyd to continue. He gritted his teeth and held his peace, refusing to add fuel to the conversation.

“Figure it out, man. Lay your cards on the table soon, because Princess deserves to be with someone who’s all in.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

“What? You’re waiting for the right time to make up a bullshit excuse and end things with her? Once we catch her stalker, and we will, you can’t just turn around and break her heart-”

“Shut up.”

Zach sneered. “Like hell I will. Don’t tell me-”

Lloyd grabbed the Texan by the collar and covered his mouth, silencing him.

“Shut up and listen, damn it!”

Zach froze, alertness sweeping over him in an instant. They waited, silent. From somewhere ahead of them in the woods came a rustling sound.

“You heard that?” Lloyd murmured.

“Yeah.”

Lloyd reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock 19 while Zach took a .38 pistol from his boot. The gun clicked as Zach chambered a bullet.

“Turn off your flashlight,” Zach whispered.

From ahead there was a flurry of rustling accompanied by the sounds of breaking twigs and branches.

“An animal wouldn’t make that much noise,” Lloyd muttered.

“Whatever it is, we’re not alone out here.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You struggled to focus on the computer screen. It was 10:30 and your eyes stung from too much screen time. Blinking against the dryness, you watched the rapidly moving footage flashing on the monitor. You’d shut off the lights in the office and re-played Nguyen’s interview at 4 times the normal speed. The rapid fire images helped to exaggerate changes in body language, which was what you’d decided to focus on.

After attempting Lloyd’s technique of listening to the interview without visuals, you’d come to your senses and realized that while Lloyd could listen more accurately than anyone you’d ever met, you needed visuals, especially body language. Therefore, you turned off the audio and sped up the footage, watching Nguyen speak, noting his facial expressions and movements.

Your eyes watered in protest at the excessive amount of blue light they were enduring and you squeezed them shut.

When they opened again, the laptop screen wasn’t as bright. You tapped the trackpad and the screen brightened. The laptop was plugged into the wall socket next to the desk. You leaned down and double checked the connection, then looked at the icon menu on the bottom right corner of the screen. The battery was at fifty percent and the plugged-in symbol was conspicuously absent. Your eyes darted to the digital clock on the wall and found its dial frozen, displaying the time as 12:00 AM.

Your stomach dropped.

No electricity. Shit. How long? You had no illusions that the source of the electrical disruption was anything other than man-made. There was no heat wave, thunderstorm, or high winds. You moved to the window and peaked through the blinds to see that the lights were still functioning in the shopping mall. Zach’s suite appeared to be the only one without electricity.

You grabbed for your phone, only to find that the spot where it had been was bare. Goosebumps broke out on your skin. The room was eerily silent. Your heart raced as you scanned the deep shadows and debated whether to run or scream.

“Sorry to drop by after visiting hours.”

The voice from the darkness was calm, almost conversational, but laced with an undercurrent of humor that was more terrifying than malice. You lurched back, eyes focused on the barely discernible silhouette of a man standing in the corner of the room.

“Who are you?” you gasped, the catch in your breath turning your voice into a whisper.

The figure moved and you lept backwards, then screamed when your back slammed into the solid barrier of the wall. A man stepped out of the shadows, into the pool of light from the east window. He had sandy blond hair and cerulean eyes. Something about him triggered a wave of recognition, but you struggled to place him in your memory.

“Hello, Princess.”

Your muscles bunched and your nostrils flared at his casual use of your nickname. The man raised his hands in surrender. Despite his overture of peace, you didn’t relax.

“My name is Court Gentry. We met briefly in Singapore.”

“When and where?” you challenged.

“The casino bar. It was your birthday.”

The memory came flooding back. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

Hair rose on the back of your neck, but you defiantly tilted your chin.

“I know Lloyd,” Court said, taking your lack of response for confusion.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Why are you here?”

“Because Lloyd refused to help me.”

“Sorry?”

“I need someone to help me get into Bishop & Howard,” Court said.

“By ‘get in,’ I’m going to assume you actually mean ‘break in.’”

Court’s lips twitched into a split second smile that faded into seriousness.

“There’s a spy in the firm,” he said.

“And you know this, how?”

“I keep tabs on Lloyd. I assume you’re aware of why?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“A few months ago I was on a job and… came into possession of a laptop. There was a reference to Bishop & Howard on the contents of that device, so I followed up. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I’d uncovered a plot to steal top secret information from the U.S. military.”

“You thought Lloyd was behind it, didn’t you?”

Court inclined his head, conceding the point. “It wouldn’t be the first time he betrayed his country, Princess.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s why you were in Singapore.”

“Yes. Events in D.C. from the law firm proved Lloyd innocent, so I approached him and asked for help. His answer was a very vehement ‘no.’”

“He doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

Court nodded. “But that puts me in a bind, because the spy is making his final transmission tonight and I need someone to help me get past security. That’s all I’m asking, Princess. If you can get me to the sixth floor of the firm-”

“Bishop is the spy?!”

“No. He’s not behind this. I already cleared him as a suspect.”

“Executives and administration are the only departments on the sixth floor. What kind of government secrets would they keep up there?”

“There’s another department on the sixth floor,” Court said. “Patents.”

“Right. I knew that, but there’s only like five people in the patent department. They keep to themselves and everyone else kind of forgets they exist.”

“Will you help me?” Court asked.

“What, exactly, am I helping you with? You never told me what these secrets I’m supposed to be protecting were.”

The blond man studied you, weighing his words, before he spoke.

“It’s a Department of Defense project called Project Prometheus. Whenever the government enlists private groups to develop top secret technology, they allow them to file patents on their inventions with a private firm. Only once the technology is de-classified do the patents become public record.”

“What’s Project Prometheus?”

Court sighed. “If I tell you, will you help me?”

“Maybe.”

“Project Prometheus is next generation jet fuel. It’s designed to power the upcoming F-37 Valkyrie fighter planes. The spy at B&H already sent information on the chemical structure of the fuel and how to synthesize it. All that’s left for him to transmit is the engineering specs of the jet’s fuel system.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think the cat’s already out of the bag if they have all that.”

“It’d be more accurate to say that they have the cat, but no bag. Without the right bag to put the cat in… ka-boom,” Court said, illustrating an explosion with his hands.

“Why are you reaching out to me now?”

“Because the spy contacted his handler today to let him know that he’d be sending the rest of the documents at midnight tonight.”

“All I would have to do is get you past security?”

“You have access to the sixth floor,” Court said.

“What about the security around the patent department? I’ve seen their door. It looks like Fort Knox.”

“Doors, plural. I have a plan for that. All we need to do is get in, set up some equipment and hole up in your office while we wait for the spy to show.”

“Are you going to turn him in or capture him?”

“My goal tonight is only to block his transmission and learn his identity. Once I have that, I’ll go to the FBI. Confronting him on my own would be counterproductive. If the authorities can get him to flip on the Chinese, that would be the best outcome.”

Lloyd would kill you for even considering this, but at the same time, you felt compelled to help Court. He’d go after the spy with or without you and his chances of success were a lot higher if you went along.

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Chapter XXVII

- - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

Tag List:

@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @ultrasilentwhispers @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @roseeatta @pensieve-foryour-thoughts @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @lavenderx0 @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038

#the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fic #the gray man fanfic #the gray man fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fanfic #chris evans character au #chris evans characters au

85 notes · View notes

starlightxsvt · 2 years

Text

— Gentleman | h.js (M)

genre ➳ sugar daddy au, strangers to lovers, pwp, angst and fluff. part of the Sugar Spice and Everything Nice project.

pairing ➳ dom!Joshua x sub!inexperienced!female reader

word count ➳ 21.2k

warnings ➳ profanities, ANGST, abandonment issues, toxic family, minor character death, mentions of addiction (drugs), emotional constipation, arguments, kissing, marking, age gap, daddy kink, hard dom!joshua (he is a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets literally 🥴) brat!reader, so much teasing!!! bdsm themes- nipple play, marking, fingering, ice play😳, spanking (belt), pussy slapping, crying, female oral, cum eating, virgin sex, rough sex, unprotected sex(don't do this irl!!!), creampie, multiple sex scenes (lmk if I forgot smth)

synopsis ➳ a silly dare leads you to him and he has you charmed quickly. but matters of the heart can never be that easy, especially when you want to avoid them.

playlist ➨ sugar daddy- queen herby // sugar- maroom 5 // guys my age- hey violet // i know you care- ellie goulding // astronomy- conan gray // tell it to my heart- meduza // soory- halsey // one last night- vaults // i fell in love with the devil- avril lavinge // imperfect love- seventeen

a/n: (yes this is a re-upload, I hate Tumblr it still isn't showing my post in tags wtf) and at last we're at the end of this journey! I can't tell you how much of a pleasure it has been for me to share this series with you all. i gotta admit I went all out for this one like-jsvvabakasbvsvs joshua is such a freak here and it's hawt okay. i'd also like to sincerely apologize for the delay. now, without further ado, get cozy and happy reading!

His eyes are extraordinary, captivating.

They are beautiful and dark, shaped like a deer's, watching your every movement cautiously. You do the same as your hands fidget with the strap of your bag on your lap. The waiter returns, bringing you your iced tea and a cup of latte for him. You quickly take a sip of your tea, letting the refreshing drink bring back life in your throat as he does the same.

You observe him, eyes peeking over the rim of the glass. He's wearing a black suit with a plain white tee beneath it. The only jewelry on him is a Rolex, sitting cozily on his wrist, which is quite veiny. His dirty blond hair is pushed back neatly, the length long enough to reach the nape of his neck and you mindlessly muse how they'd feel to touch.

"So, you are saying this was a dare?" The man questions.

An embarrassed smile creeps on your face. "Yeah, my friends dared me to do this. And I saw some good reviews about this app so I decided, why not."

Meeting this stranger, a potential sugar daddy was a task assigned to you by your friends after a drunken night full of talks about your celibate lifestyle. Not wanting to look like a coward, you took on their dare and decided to sign up on a sugar dating app that led you to meet this beautiful man in front of you; something you entirely did not expect.

What you expected, instead was a fifty-something man, old and gross and you had planned to just entertain him for a while before announcing this was a stupid dare and never coming near him again.

Yeah, that was the plan.

After all, the texts you had exchanged with this man weren't really a solid way to figure out his age. They were short and brief, just introductions and the designated place of meeting. His profile picture wasn't frankly very giving either; a silhouette of a man sipping on a wine glass with an aesthetic backdrop. You had decided not to ask for a photo or any other information because you didn't want to lose interest even before going on that date.

But turns out, there had been a pleasant surprise waiting for you.

"That's all good but what I need to know is are you really looking for a sugar daddy? Otherwise, I should get going." The man, Joshua, states, hands coming to rest on top of the table, his eyes serious yet gentle. He has this calm yet dominating aura surrounding him and you can't help but admit that it draws you in.

Am I looking for a sugar daddy?

You haven't considered this seriously until now. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, meeting an old dude and flipping him off just so you can tell your friends you tried and ended up meeting a grandpa with stinky feet but now that a young, handsome billionaire sits opposite to you, you find yourself reconsidering everything.

This is a marvelous opportunity for a broke college student like you. Your bills and loans will be paid while also providing a much more comfortable life for you, one where you don't have to live in an apartment the size of a shoebox.

"Are you looking for a sugar baby?" You ask him instead. The corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly as he replies, "I'm here, aren't I?"

You nod, reclining into the chair and sighing deeply. "I do actually. Need a sugar daddy, I mean. Like— I haven't really considered this seriously because...well," you shrug, not wanting to point out how pleasantly surprised you are seeing him and all his hotness. You don't want to butter his ego on the first meeting. "Anyway, yes. I have bills and loans to pay. So I guess I'll be your sugar baby...if you're interested."

He watches you amusedly, his eyes shining in mirth. "Of course I am. I must admit I find you very... fascinating. It will be my pleasure to be in your company."

Fascinating, huh?

"You've known me for like ten minutes."

"And that's enough." He decides, reaching for his latte to take a sip, never breaking eye contact with you. You wait for him to explain further and he takes the hint as he links his fingers together, once again resting them on the table, his posture all business-like. "I've never had a sugar baby but I assure you, you don't have to do anything that you're not comfortable with. For now, I'd like you to attend events with me as my date."

Such a gentleman.

"I'm more than happy to do that." You say gladly, trying to prevent a smile from breaking into your face. Is it gonna be this easy? Do men this nice and sweet even exist anymore? "But I don't understand why you would go out of your way to spend money for some company. I'm sure there is plenty of people...interested."

Joshua chuckles. "But I'm not interested in them. They are predictable and have a rather plain personality. I thought taking a new approach would be good. And I'm glad I did because you seem quite like a handful."

"I'll take it as a compliment." You mutter dryly, eyes narrowing on him. He laughs, his eyes forming half-moons. "It was a compliment, _____. I'm looking forward to spending time with you."

You open your mouth to reply but the loud ringing of his phone interrupts you as he mumbles an apology, fishing out the device from his pocket. He frowns at the screen before sighing. "I'm really sorry but I need to get going. I'll contact you. And if you need me, you know my number." He flashes you a dashing, almost flirty smile as he stands up and nods at you before accepting the call and marching out of the place, leaving you in a daze.

You can't believe that just really happened. You have a freaking sugar daddy now— not an old man with a huge belly and stinky feet but a young, hot gentleman. Shaking your head amusedly you fetch your phone from your purse and tap on your group chat with your girlfriends.

GUYS YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!!! I NEED TO THANK YOU TWO!!

"So you're saying he's young and handsome and polite?" Kira asks for the hundredth time, sighing wistfully. "Damn, maybe I should try that app too."

"You really should." You take a bite of your french toast. "All the reviews I saw were great but I can't believe I got so lucky."

Naomi murmurs under her breath, "Fuck yeah, you did girl." Her fingers glide over her phone as she googles the man centering on the topic of your discussion. "Joshua you said? Of Hong Corporations?"

Humming, you nod, watching your friends as they hover over the phone, intently watching all the information that shows up. "He's so damn hot," Naomi whistles, giving you a dirty look. You roll your eyes and before you can make a comeback, Kira asks bluntly. "You're gonna have sex with him right? He wants to get dirty with you, right?"

You groan, tossing the napkin by your plate at her. "Shut up! Sorry to disappoint but he actually said that he won't do anything that'll make me uncomfortable. He didn't seem desperate for sex."

"Such a gentleman," Naomi pipes in, her voice dreamy. "But what's the fun in that! He's literally sex on legs! You gotta do it with him!" Kira's voice is loud, so loud that a few heads from the surroundings tables turn to look at you, making your face burn in embarrassment. Kira giggles sheepishly before whispering. "Seriously. It's time you pop your cherry."

You scowl at her while Naomi snorts, covering her face as she tries to laugh discreetly. You sigh. "You all are moving way too fast here. I just saw him once! What if he decides he doesn't wanna do this? I've yet to hear from him." You murmur, your voice more anxious than you would have wanted it to be.

A somber look settles on their faces as your friends watch you sympathetically for a while. Kira reaches out to grab your hands in reassurance. "Hey. Babe, it's gonna be all good. Of course, he'll call you. He's a freaking businessman. He wouldn't have wasted his time if he was not interested."

"Yep. You just need to be patient _____. Don't worry so much. Trust the process." Naomi smiles at you softly.

"Good things don't really happen to me, so..." You avert your gaze, chewing on your lower lip. You hate yourself for ruining the mood, for feeling pathetic and doubtful.

Old habits die hard, you suppose.

"Hey," Kira calls for you. "It's gonna be all fine. Trust yourself, okay? And you know what, let's stop talking about him. You won't believe what Soonyoung asked me last night."

"What?" Naomi asks dryly as you both wait for her answer. "He freaking asked me if he can buy a tiger suit for us so that he can fuck me while wearing it." She replies as your jaw falls loose.

"No way!" You and Naomi yell at the same time. "Oh my god, he's fucking nuts." Naomi groans and so do you as you ask. "What did you say? Please tell me you didn't—"

Kira interrupts. "I said yes. I mean, I don't mind. I'm kinda interested, actually."

"Oh, sweet lord!"

"No fucking way!" You and Naomi gag.

Everyone has ups and downs in their lives. But for the majority of your life, you remember only experiencing downs. At first, it frustrated you to no end, making you feel unbelievably lost and hopeless but now you've come to accept it. You try to be content with what little you have and you always keep your expectations to the lowest.

College has been hard and expensive but the thought of letting go of your dreams is harder. Your dreams are what have kept you alive and strong through all the downs you have faced, so even though you had to take a huge loan and juggle two part-time jobs, you tell yourself it will all be worth it in the end. And maybe, fate has finally smiled upon you by bringing Joshua to you.

It has been two days since you met him and you have to admit anxiety is settling in your bones. The radio silence is disheartening, making you expect the very worst, like a habit. As you sit in your bed and overthink all your brain juices out, your phone rings, making you jump. The caller ID is unknown and with a frown, you pick it up.

"Hey. It's me."

It's him. Joshua.

Your heart beats loudly.

"Hi."

"Sorry, I was really busy the last few days. But I expected your call." He says.

"You said you'd call me." Your voice has an edge to it, almost like a sad lover who had been waiting for her boyfriend to call.

He laughs softly. "That I did. I apologize. And I was hoping you could accompany me to a dinner this Friday."

You bite your lip. "I don't mind. I mean, I'm free."

"Lovely." He hums. "I'll send you the contract of your payments via email. Let me know if you have any complaints."

"Oh...okay. I will."

"Good. I need to get going," he sighs. "I'll see you this weekend, sweetheart. Dream of me." He hangs up with a promise.

Letting out a wistful sigh, you take a look around your tiny apartment, all your things filling up every inch of available space and leaving barely any room for air. Sighing, you fall back into your bed, smiling softly.

It's all about to change.

The past three weeks have probably been the most eventful weeks of your life. Joshua was quick to welcome you into his circle as you first showed up with him at the company dinner. The money that you are being rewarded with after every appearance is equal to months of your rent and let out a squeal of glee when you checked your bank account the next morning.

However, his generosity didn't stop there. Over the weeks, he has sent you the prettiest bouquet of flowers with little thank you notes, sometimes chocolates too. He also sent over a pair of designer shoes and a handbag, making you almost faint as you felt the smooth, luxurious item below your fingertips for the first time. Sure, you expected to be a bit richer after agreeing to go out with him but you didn't expect these random, dare you say, romantic gifts every often.

Over the last few weeks, Joshua has also developed a habit of coming over to your place, just to chat while having a meal. It surprisingly feels nice and comfortable; his presence in your tiny house finally giving you a sense of belonging so you always agree without a second thought. Though the embarrassment you felt the first time he showed up at your minuscule apartment was astronomical even though you shouldn't have. You were scared he was going to judge you based on your living conditions or worse, pity you but he did none of that and simply made himself at home.

However, today, he has asked you to come over to his place, saying that he had his chef come over to help him with the food. You agree immediately as the thoughts of spending the rest of the day with him make you brim with excitement. You put on the nicest clothes you have and do a little makeup, a habit you've picked up ever since you've been with him; wanting to look your very best around him. You sling the Chanel bag he has gifted you over your shoulder and just as you are about to put on your shoes, your doorbell rings, perplexing you.

It's noon. You're not expecting anyone.

With a frown, you open the door and immediately, discomfort and annoyance settle into your bones as you meet your eyes with the visitor.

It's your sister.

With a rather bitter expression, you stand there, not welcoming her in or speaking but that doesn't faze her. With an exaggerated grin, she pushes past you. "Hey, sis."

Her tone makes you think she's mocking you and you huff, closing the door and turning around as you watch her scan your space with a rather judgemental stare. "What do you want, Melissa?" Your tone is snappy but you don't care. She feigns hurt, plopping down on your little sofa as she flips her hair over her shoulder.

"Can't I pay my little sister a friendly visit?"

"The same sister that you tried to get rid of? The one you didn't bother calling the past six months? Yeah, you can't." You hiss, your gaze burning into her. "Leave. I've somewhere to be."

Her eyes scan you up and down before settling on your Chanel bag. "Wow, nice bag. Where did you get that?" She asks with a smirk on her face. You sigh. "It's a knock-off."

She hums, probably not buying your words but you don't care. She has no business poking her nose into your life.

"What do you want?" You ask again, exasperated. Your day is ruined. You were so looking forward to seeing Joshua and now she shows up unannounced.

"Mom called. She needs money and I don't have it. Why don't you help her?" Your sister announces, nonchalantly, scrutinizing her fingernails. You immediately see red and your blood boils at her attitude. "Oh yeah? Well, I stopped caring since she walked out on us." You hiss. Your sister huffs in annoyance. "I don't care whether you care or not. Just give her some damn money."

"You really have no remorse." You chuckle mirthlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "You and I both know you've more money than me yet to come to me, asking for it when I'm barely getting by. Not to mention how you tried to get rid of me— got rid of me, I should say, and now you're here, shamelessly asking me for money. How despicable."

Your sister glares at you as she abruptly stands up, seething, "You ungrateful bitch! At least I took care of you until you were eighteen!"

"Took care of me?" You scoff. "Sure, yeah. Since I'm an ungrateful bitch, I'll continue being that by not giving you or my goddamn mother any penny because I don't have any and you fucking know it!"

"Well, you definitely have enough to buy a fucking Chanel!" She hisses, "Don't think I'm stupid, _____."

"You know what, maybe I have enough to buy this or maybe I stole it. It's none of your business either way." You grit your teeth. "But I don't have enough to spend a penny for mom, especially when I know she'll waste it away drinking and gambling!"

She scoffs. "You really are still a selfish little bitch."

"Fuck you, Melissa. Get out of my house. I don't want to see you ever again."

She rolls her eyes, cursing you under her breath as she pushes past you and slams the door loudly on her way. Angry, hot tears that you've been holding until now start streaming down your face as your knees give up and you sink onto the floor, trying to keep more tears from falling.

No matter what you do, where you go your past just doesn't seem to let you go. You idly wonder if you would ever be able to get rid of it, forget its constant looming presence over your shoulders, holding you back from fully living your life.

A text seems to have been sent as your phone alerts you and blinking through the tears you check it. It's Joshua, asking if you are still coming or if you have changed your mind. You shake your head, smiling humourlessly at the text before you get up and try to collect yourself, wiping at your face so that you don't look like you've been crying like a madwoman.

Maybe having some good wine and delicious food in the company of a delicious man will help you get your mind off things.

"Hey there." Joshua smiles sweetly as he opens the door to his penthouse and moves aside, letting you in. He's dressed in a black fitted tee and grey slacks, a simple, slightly unnatural look on him as you have only seen him in suits until now. But he doesn't look any less gorgeous.

Your mind blanks out for a second as you stare at his chest, bulky and solid, a clear outline visible over his tee and you wonder how it'd feel to touch. Murmuring a shy greeting, you step into his foyer, large and shiny and absolutely breathtaking.

"Come in. I've prepared some snacks for us before dinner."

Joshua moves towards his kitchen while you look around the place, mesmerized. The main foyer of his house bathes in sunlight, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows. Attached to the foyer is his modern, state of the art kitchen and dining area, all in various shades of white and grey. The area is spacious and bright, decorated with elegant pieces of furniture and fluffy rugs and gold framed abstract paintings.

"You have a pretty house." You murmur, not finding much else to say. His laughter can be heard. "Thanks. Would you like something to drink?" He turns around and offers you as you start taking off your jacket and set it next to your purse.

"Water please." You mumble, taking a seat by the dining table. He comes back with two glasses of water before serving some fancy looking appetizer, made by him and announces that you're having an early dinner as it cooks in the oven.

He sits opposite to you and talks animatedly, no doubt that he genuinely enjoys your company. It's not that you don't enjoy his, in fact, you love it, hearing his sweet yet slightly throaty voice and looking at that pretty face makes you forget about everything horrible in your life. He talks about the story behind this place, about how he actively participated in its making and you can clearly see he adores his house. You've also picked up his love for cleaning and maintaining his space; a rare sight for the male population you've encountered so far, especially someone like him.

The way he gracefully moves around the kitchen while conversing with you, you can tell he's a pro in this department too. Is there anything this man can't do?

Dusk falls as you both chat away, talking about everything and nothing and you don't even realize it's been hours. Your dinner has finished cooking and he starts setting up the plates as you pour some wine for the two of you. It doesn't escape you that he has not asked anything remotely personal about you when you expected him to. Is he being polite? Or is he not interested?

Your thoughts are interrupted as he brings dinner to the table and serves you, a sweet smile on his face as he waits for you to try his food.

"This is delicious." You try not to moan as you chew your first bite. His eyes crinkle in happiness as his melodic laugh rings in your ears. "Thank you. My chef helped too."

You hum, happily stuffing your face with food. You don't know if it's the delicious food; a huge change from your regular, cheap, ramen or toast, or his company that has increased your appetite. You genuinely enjoy his company, probably more than you should have and half of you don't want to return to your storeroom of a home tonight.

You need to get yourself together.

"_____?" He calls for you, jolting you out of your train of thoughts as you blink at him. "Is there something that's bothering you?"

"Huh?" You're fairly perplexed.

He shakes his head. "No, it's just that... You looked troubled earlier when you arrived. And you seem to be getting lost in your head, that's all."

Oh, he's quite the observer.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, eyes cast on your plate.

"No!" He quickly speaks, making you jump slightly. "No...you don't have to be sorry. I just wanted you to know that you can share your worries with me. If you feel comfortable, that is."

His gentle voice and soft gaze crumble down your defenses as you stare at the beautiful man and try not to start crying. You can't believe he actually noticed all that.

"Family issues. My mom...my sister." You find yourself uttering the words without much thinking. It's alarming how much he brings your guard down.

He doesn't say anything or ask for an explanation but watches you, his gaze reassuring and soft. You sigh, trying to get your thoughts together and just letting it all out. "Well, uh...my mom...she left me and my sister when I was... twelve I think. She found drinking and snorting cocaine more interesting than her daughters, I guess. But she always wasn't like this. Yes, she had a history of addiction but it improved after she married dad. Things were good until my dad passed away. She returned to her old habits after that."

You swallow, trying not to choke up on your words. Joshua watches you carefully his hand stroking your knuckles as it rests on the table. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He whispers.

You don't yet you do. You've been keeping it bottled up inside you for so long that you don't want to stop now, even though you'll probably regret it later.

"Anyway, she went her way and left me with my sister." You continue. "It's safe to say she didn't like me. I was the unplanned child, of course, so she was more negligent with me. Anyhow, my sister wasn't exactly fond of me either and I guess she isn't fully to be blamed because she was barely an adult herself. We stayed with our aunt for a while before she turned eighteen. Then she had to take care of me and she wasn't quite happy with it. We fought a lot. She'd neglect me, make me do everything in the house while she brought her friends over and stuffs. When I confronted her about it things would get ugly. I made it through before I turned eighteen and then I left her. Thanks to the money my father left us individually, I got through somehow. And my sister got married last year." You take a sip of your wine, before continuing.

"Her husband is pretty well off. They even have a house. Yet today, she came to me for money. Apparently, mother called her and asked for some cash and she wants me to give her money when I'm barely getting by. I told her to fuck off." You sigh, downing your drink in one go. Your head hurts now. Whenever you think of those shitty people, you are bound to have a headache.

Joshua is silent, watching you with an expression you're unable to decipher and you start getting nervous. Did you scare him off? Does he find you burdening?

Anxiety almost chokes you up but his voice is kind when he says, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that. You don't deserve it."

His words are basic but they manage to tug at the deepest spots in your heart. You half expected him to offer you money like those obnoxious rich assholes but he sounds genuinely sorry and kind.

"Thank you for saying that." You mutter.

"Thank you for telling me." He says, his eyes meeting yours and the depth of his gaze brings goosebumps on your skin. You swallow, not breaking eye contact with him.

He looks even more beautiful now. Ethereal, like an angel. Gentle and calming and comforting. All the good things that pull you in like quicksand but also dangerous enough to scar you forever.

"Let's watch a movie, hmm?" He suddenly offers. You blink. "I...uhm, would love to. But I should get going."

"You can stay. I'd like it if you did," he says, his eyes watching you carefully. "If you're okay with it of course."

"Really? I can?" You're surprised.

"Why not. Don't take it otherwise. We won't have to do anything. You can take one of the many spare bedrooms I have." He smiles. You gape at him, weighing your options and you definitely don't want to return home tonight. So you whisper, "Okay, I'll stay."

"Great." He grins, standing up. "Let's choose a movie now."

About ten minutes later you sit next to him on the sofa, eyes trained on the romcom playing on the screen. There's a certain amount of gap between the two of you but he's close enough to have you distracted with his smell and warmth. You were never the cuddler type but right now you just want to wrap yourself around him and fall asleep. Maybe you will. Your tipsy mind won't really think twice to do it.

Joshua's hand is stretched out over the backrest of the sofa, occasionally brushing against you're back, unintentionally, you assume. His eyes are trained on the screen. He doesn't seem to notice your lack of focus on the movie or if he does, he doesn't comment on it.

The proximity between the two of you is dangerous, inviting. You distract yourself by playing with the blanket thrown over your legs but ultimately your thoughts land on the enticing man beside you. The room is now chillier than before as the night has fallen and you are thankful for the blanket Joshua had offered you. As you pull it under your chin and try to snuggle it, Joshua turns his head towards you. "We could cuddle...if you want."

You're embarrassed to admit how quickly you agree to it. With an enthusiastic nod, you immediately shuffle closer to him and tentatively rest your head on his shoulder, throwing the blanket over the two of you as his outstretched hand comes to wrap around your shoulder. You sigh, content and comfortable and he seems so too as he relaxes on the sofa.

There are no words exchanged but the atmosphere is cozy as you both watch the TV in silence before your eyelids start feeling heavy.

And soon you drift off in the comfort of his arms.

When you wake up you're in a bed. If you had to guess, it would be Joshua's guest room.

Sunlight pours through the large windows draped in silk curtains and you groan, stretching your hands and legs. The bed and the sheets and pillows are the comfiest things you've ever slept on which is probably why you feel so well-rested and at peace; a highly unusual occurrence for you.

After you freshen up, you step out of your room and climb down the stairs in search of Joshua. You find him standing by the dining table, finishing his coffee, a tablet in one of his hands.

As soon as he hears you he looks up and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you murmur, voice a bit hoarse from sleep.

"I was about to wake you up," Joshua says, setting down the tablet. "I've to leave now. It's sudden but my father's friend suddenly called me this morning and asked me to play golf with him. Can't really say no to him." He shakes his head, clearly not fond of the idea.

"I'm so sorry. You're probably late because of me." You apologize, embarrassed. You've overstayed your welcome.

"No! Not at all." He assures. "In fact, if you want you can stay here today too. Though you'll probably need a change of clothes." His eyes move over your clothing, which you've been wearing since you've come here. "We could have dinner together tonight again. Or, if you'd like to leave, I'll drop you off on my way."

"I think I should leave. I've work to get done at home." You speak and he nods. "Sure but have some breakfast before we leave."

About an hour later Joshua parks his car in front of your building; his Porsche a weird contradiction in this poor, worn-out neighborhood. Unbuckling your seatbelt you smile. "Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure. Oh and _____?" He calls as you're opening the door. "I've to attend an event tomorrow. A charity event. I'd like you to come with me."

"Sure." You don't have any plans and being with him is easily better than sitting around and moping in your tiny apartment.

"Great." He smiles. "My driver will pick you up at five."

As you exit his car and head into your building, you can't believe how excited you are and how much you're already looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a long long time since you've been this energized and happy and you realize just how much being with Joshua is shaking up your entire world.

Draped in a beautiful silk scarlet red dress and with Joshua's strong grip on your waist, you feel like a million bucks. The dress you're wearing today is exceptionally pretty, your favorite one from all that you've worn so far. It is one-sleeved with a sweetheart neckline, flowing down into a long slit that reaches up to your thigh. It's elegant yet playful and dangerous, not quite your type but Joshua seems to like it as you don't miss his eyes raking appreciatively down your leg now and then.

You've to admit it makes you feel excited. For whatever this night has in store.

Which doesn't seem much at first as you walk into the party with Joshua and feel the eyes of many cast at the two of you, mainly you. Men greet Joshua as soon as they see him and the ladies accompanying them scan you too to the bottom, with heavy judgment, maybe a little jealousy in their eyes but you can't bring yourself to care too much.

This is fleeting, after all.

The event comes to an end for the two of you as you finish dinner and as soon as you're done Joshua is escorting you out of the premises and towards his car. You can tell that he got bored with all the mindless chattering and you can't blame him for that. You weren't exactly enjoying yourself either.

As you sit by his side in the limo, Joshua's hands absentmindedly graze the skin of your leg peeking out from the slit. You've noticed he

has been touching you throughout the evening. His eyes are focused outside the window as he speaks. "Have I told you how lovely you look?" His voice is quiet, full of something you can't quite put your finger on as he turns his head to look at you. Not trusting yourself to speak you only shake your head and swallow, the look in his eyes hypnotizing.

Joshua's eyes move to your lips as his thumb reaches out to swipe across the flesh, sending shivers down your spine. He inches his face closer and keeping his eyes on your lips, he whispers, "I want to kiss you, _____. Tell me, do you want it too?" His eyes lock with yours and the flame of passion burning in them makes you weak in the knees.

"Yes," you squeak. There's an unmistakable spark of desire in his eyes as his lips curve upward just a little bit and he presses the button for the privacy screen of the car.

Then he wastes no time, immediately smashing his lips to yours as one of his hands cup your jawline and the other your waist. The kiss is intoxicating, his warmth and taste overflowing your systems as you become a puppet and let him guide you through it.

When he pulls back, he inhales sharply and the fire in his eyes grows ten times stronger. "We should stop. Before this gets too far."

It's like a bucket of ice-cold water has been splashed on you as you stiffen, your heart breaking.

Too far? What does he mean by that?

You can't help the bite in your voice, "Do you not find me attractive?"

Damn it. A part of you hates yourself for saying that. Your past insecurities have no room in this relationship.

A look of utter confusion settles on his face. "What?"

"No...it's just, we've been doing this for a while and you've never initiated anything with me. Am I not attractive to you?"

The glint in his eyes is dangerous and you can visibly see his jaw harden. "You've no idea what you are talking about, _____. I did not initiate anything with you because I didn't want to scare you off. I can tell you are inexperienced so I didn't want to make you do something that you're not comfortable with."

He can tell? Heat blares in your face, both from embarrassment and arousal. The look he's giving you right now makes you feel like he's gonna eat you whole and you're not going to stop him. Joshua continues, "But clearly, you misunderstood my cautiousness as disinterest so I've no choice but to prove you wrong." His hands snake around your waist as he utters, "Tell me to stop if you mean it. Otherwise, there's no stopping tonight."

That's it. That's all the warning you get before Joshua moves you onto his lap and kisses you, hard. You are sure your lips are going to be bruised and you don't give a shit. You keep clawing at his biceps and whine as he devours your face, not caring that you are in the back of a limo.

Your needs have reached their breaking point. You're going all in tonight. Whatever regret you have can wait until tomorrow because there is no way you are letting yourself off of this man tonight.

Joshua seems to be on the boat with the idea as even after a nasty make out session in the back of his car he doesn't keep his hands off your body as you both stumble into the elevator and then into his penthouse.

Joshua drags you towards his bedroom, your form gasping for air and stumbling over your heels but you've never felt this alive and excited. He doesn't hide his need for you and it brings a type of feeling to you that you've never felt before.

Powerful. Wanted. Sexy.

Your brain seems to have taken a backseat as you're no longer in control of your body, gladly doing whatever Joshua is making you do. He pushes you onto his bed and kisses you once more before standing back up and loosening the bow tie on his neck. Tossing it away he then starts unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes following each of his steps wantonly.

Once the material is off you can finally see his buffed chest in its full glory and your throat dries up immediately. He's so big and bulky, he could literally crush you with his chest. It's probably worrisome how much that idea seems to appeal to you.

"Up." His voice is husky and you blink, realizing he's telling you to stand up. With shaky legs, you do so and he turns you around to tug down the zipper at the back of your dress. "Take this off," he orders quietly and your hands start moving as you push the one shoulder of the dress down before tugging it lower and lower, down your waist as it finally pools at your feet.

Clad only in your black lacy panties, you can feel his hard stare, penetrating deep into you. While you want to cover yourself, the look of lust mixed with appreciation makes you stay still. Swallowing, you wait for his next words.

"Lie down."

Immediately you do so and watch him crawl over your like a predator. He starts by kissing your lips chastely before moving towards your jawline and then down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking every inch of skin. You gasp and mewl, hands automatically reaching to hold onto his back as you writhe underneath him.

His lips hover over your chest, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin as he starts by kissing the flesh between your tits. Then he takes a nipple into his mouth and teases it, softly sucking at first before poking the hard bud with his tongue.

His hands stay rooted on your sides, on the bedsheets and the only form of his touch you get is his tongue. It drives you wild; the need to feel every inch of him on you.

"J-Joshua..." You moan.

"Daddy. You call me daddy in bed." It's a command and you immediately nod your head, all too eager to comply.

The man you've known until now is completely gone, no more the sweet, considerate man but instead a lust-crazed man. You never thought you'd be into this but damn if you aren't and you only become more sure when Joshua's crotch brushes against your leaking sex, making you shudder. "Daddy...your fingers please." You mewl, trying to give him your best puppy eyes. Your subconscious shakes her head at how easily the title falls off your lips.

Joshua chuckles quietly, meanly, giving you goosebumps as he keeps torturing your breasts like before. But this time he brings one of his hands down to your core and starts rubbing you gently. Your back arches off the bed slightly as you sigh in pleasure, his touch soothing the burn in your core.

"You want my fingers, baby?" His voice is deep as he removes his mouth from your tits and locks his eyes with you. Surprising you, he slaps your pussy, hard, making your mouth open in a silent scream. "You have it." He hisses and in one smooth motion, thrusts two of his fingers inside you. You squeal, hands fisting the bedsheets tightly as his digits easily slip in due to your overflowing arousal.

"Oh god, yes." You moan, eyes rolling back as you feel his thick fingers move inside you. Paired with the movement of his fingers and the heated look he's sending your way, you know you're not very far from your release. You squeak, "Go-gonna cum."

Joshua scoffs. "So quickly? Horny little baby. Come then. Come on my fingers so I can put my cock in you." His filthy words make you moan out loud as he brings his thumb over clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge, face-first into your first, proper orgasm.

It shakes your body as you lie there and feel it wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly as he keeps playing with your pussy throughout your high. When you finally come down and your mind starts working again, Joshua pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you. The erotic sight has your core thrumming once more in the blink of an eye as you mindlessly reach for his pants. "Please. Want you..." Your voice is soft, breathy and Joshua finds it hard to not give into you.

So dropping a kiss on the top of your pussy, he shuffles off the bed and stands up, hands working on removing his belt. Anticipation builds into your veins as you lick your dry lips, eagerly waiting to see him.

And you almost stop breathing when he removes his pants and boxers. His size and girth leave your mouth hanging open and your core clenching around nothing. The phrase hung like a horse was probably invented for him because just thinking about that inside you makes your pussy ache.

You probably won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"Fuck. W-will you even fit?" Your eyes never leave his cock as it bobs in the air, his tip leaking precum. Joshua watches you watch him with utter amusement. "I will, baby. Your tight pussy was made for me." He flashes you a cocky grin as he climbs back on top of you and pecks your mouth.

"Then take me, Joshua. I...I can't wait. N-need you. Take me like this. Wanna feel y-you." You whisper, chasing his lips as you pull his large body against yours and his cock brushes against your pussy.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath as he feels your heat against his sensitive flesh. "Are you sure you are ready for this, sweets? Should I make you come once more?"

His concern brings warmth to your chest but you immediately shake his head and start grinding against his dick. "Wanna come on your cock, daddy."

You've been craving this man for a long time and you will go crazy if you wait any longer.

"Fuck. Such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" He tilts your chin up and pulls your lips in a bruising kiss as you nod. "P-please give it to me."

He groans softly as he taps your clit with his hard shaft, eyes trained on your swollen, dripping hole. "Tell me if it hurts, okay sweets?"

"I will."

His eyes darken as he suddenly lands a slap on your clit. "What's my name?"

"Daddy! Daddy, oh my god!" You squeal, wetness dripping out of you and just as you are recovering from the shock of his spank he thrusts inside you, all the way in one smooth motion. You scream so loud your ears ring, your nails scratching Joshua's back as you cling onto him like he's your lifeline.

He pants harshly on top of you, sweat shining on his forehead as he fights to stay still and let you adjust. Your pussy is stretched to its limits and even though you still feel the sting, you mindlessly grind on his cock, breathy whines leaving your lips.

"Stop doing that or I'm gonna come," Joshua warns but you start moving your hips faster when you're more comfortable with the stretch. "Little vixen," he groans as if in pain, heated eyes watching you. "Come for me." He commands quietly, hands moving to play with your swollen clit as soon as he flicks it with his finger, your release coming crashing down on you and you feel it in every one of your nerves.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as you feel him release inside you, making you clench. You're not surprised when he doesn't stop but continues thrusting inside you, far from being done with you and you feel another orgasm impending. Your pussy hurts in the best ways possible and just thinking about coming once again have your toes curling.

Surprising you, one of his hands move onto your neck, gripping it firmly and applying just enough pressure to make your body curl up and see stars. It triggers your orgasm, multiplying it by hundreds and seeing the godlike man on top of you, reaching his high, his dark, predatory eyes trained on you makes you go off like a rocket. You swear you see God himself as your body completely lets go and you feel like you're floating in a place of pure bliss. The feeling of him releasing inside you makes you shudder, before he slips out and shuffles on the bed, probably cleaning you up but you're too gone to care.

With a blissful smile and a hazy mind, you let sleep take you.

Blinding sunlight wakes you up the next morning as you immediately sit up once your brain has processed everything.

You slept with Joshua Hong last night.

Holy shit.

You feel tingles shoot up your leg just by thinking of him and the things you did last night. Nervous and shy, your eyes move around his large bedroom. The time on the wall clock and the looming quietness in the apartment is enough for you to think he has probably left for work. Which is good. You're too embarrassed to face him.

As you get out of bed, awkwardly you must admit due to the ache between your legs, you spot a note lying on the bedside table. Your curious hands reach for it and you smile once you read it.

Good morning. I'm sorry I had to leave early. Help yourself with breakfast before you go. Also, check your bank account. XO

Right. The money. You scan around to find your phone and once you do, you quickly log into your bank app and sure enough, a nice, huge amount of cash sits there, enough to pop your eyes out of its sockets.

Holy fucking shit.

As relieved and giddy you feel seeing the amount, there's a part— one that you hate, of you that feels ashamed, conflicted. Before you start thinking too much you toss your phone away and head toward the bathroom.

You need to stop thinking so much.

You were positively kidding yourself when you told yourself to stop thinking too much yesterday morning. Now, a day later, in the evening, you sit by yourself in your shoebox apartment, anxiously chewing on your lower lip.

You spent the day just fine, busy doing your work and not thinking about him or anything regarding him. But now that the night has fallen and you sit idle, your mind can't spot conjuring up the worst scenarios.

You haven't heard from Joshua. At all.

Which has you disappointed. And you are disappointed in yourself for feeling disappointed.

The silence on his part makes you worry to your wit's end. Is it over? Has he gotten tired of you? Did you not satisfy him? Did he forget about you like everyone else?

Your fists clench as your heart breaks a little at the thought. No, no. You don't do attachments. He could just call you right now and say he's done and it shouldn't hurt you. Not one bit. This is just business, you keep telling yourself.

A loud, echoing sound breaks the train of your thoughts and you frown. It's the doorbell. And you are expecting no one.

Especially not Joshua Hong, who you find standing just as you pull open the door. A sound, somewhere between a pleasant gasp and a surprised squeak escapes you as you watch the man in front of you with wide eyes.

"Hey." He gives you a soft, if not a little shy smile. Your heart starts fluttering and you wish you could rip it out of your chest.

"Hi," your voice is barely audible as you drink him in like you've been thirsty for eons; his large form dressed in a wrinkled black shirt underneath a grey blazer matching his pants. As you look closely, you see exhaustion written all over his face, dark circles under his eyes.

"May I come in?" His voice makes you snap back into reality as you flush.

"Sure," you choke, moving away to let him step in.

You watch as Joshua makes himself comfortable on your tiny couch, the furniture squeaking under his weight. As always he seems unbothered by it as he looks at you expectantly, motioning for you to sit on the small remaining space next to him.

As you do so you realize there's a box from a confectioner on his lap and you frown. "For you," he seems to notice your gaze as he pushes the box onto your lap. "I was passing by the area when I saw the shop. I remembered you wanting to try their desserts so I thought I'd get some for you."

Your stomach somersaults at his confession.

He remembered. He remembered the day on the way to one of his events, you had passed by this shop and the beautiful pastries on display made you say that you'd love to try some. You were not serious and you definitely did not expect him to actually buy those for you.

Tentatively you open the box and the assortment of desserts inside makes your mouth water. You swallow. "Wow... I— thanks, Joshua."

"You're welcome, _____. Consider it as an apology too. I should've checked up on you after yesterday. Work has just been so hectic these days, I barely have time to eat." The sincerity in his voice makes you want to scream. Why? Why does he care so much? Why can't he just be an asshole? Why does he have to show up at your place, being all sweet and considerate?

"It's okay, Joshua." Is what you whisper instead.

"Are you okay, though?" The need in his voice makes you look at him. Your heart stutters as your eyes come in contact. "You could've called me, you know. I kind of hoped you would."

Oh.

You bite your lip. "I... thought I'd be disturbing."

"No, not at all." He frowns, reaching to cup your hands. "You should not hesitate to call me. Even if I can't call you, you can always call me, _____. I mean it."

"Okay." You quickly retract your hands from his as your heart rings loudly in your ears. Being so close to him, touching him, breathing him in is messing with your head. You clear your throat, trying to get up. "Would you like a pastry? Let me make some coffee-"

"Sit down." He grabs your elbow and pulls you down effortlessly, right into his strong arms. Eyes wide, your hand reaches for his solid chest out of reflex and the look in his eyes is enough to drop your panties.

Your throat is parched and your heart is a galloping horse, ready to burst out of your chest as you fist his shirt in your hand. Your eyes land on his lips and you swallow, the urge to kiss them overwhelming and scary.

You want him. You need him. It's utterly terrifying how much you do.

"Tell me you missed me." His voice is quiet, his eyes trained on your lips intently. The timbre of his voice and his tightening grip on your waist make it very, very hard for you to form words.

"Y-yes. I- I did."

He hums, pleased you assume and then leans down to kiss your lips. Softly at first before he's pushing his tongue inside your mouth, a loud whine escaping from your mouth. You twist and writhe in his arms, the taste and feel of him electrifying. Just when you are at the peak of your high, he pulls back, a soft, teasing look on his face.

God. This infuriating, sexy as fuck man.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I have an early morning tomorrow. And my driver is waiting." He murmurs, pressing soft kisses on your neck which does not help your current state at all. You almost, almost beg him to stay and fuck you but you hold back the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you only hum and sigh into his chest, subconsciously snuggling against his large frame.

The security and comfort you feel in his arms is something you've never felt before and something you long desperately.

In silence, Joshua holds you; for how long you have no idea but enough to make you feel drowsy. Maybe he senses it because he lets you go, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he gently moves to stand up. "By the way, are you free this Thursday night?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I am." It takes a moment for you to register his words as you can only concentrate on the missing warmth of his body.

"Great. My friends are having a hangout. You'll be my plus one." He smiles, buttoning up his blazer and surprising you, he leans down and kisses the corner of your lips. "You don't have to see me out. Good night, sweets. Dream of me."

Before you can recover yourself from his sweet, boyfriend-like gesture, he's out the door like a spring breeze. The pounding of your heart seems to echo around your empty apartment as you sit in silence and touch the spot where his lips were moments ago.

This man is doing dangerous things to you, things you don't want to acknowledge. Because you know exactly what it is.

Love.

Yoon Jeonghan is quite the character.

He's the loudest, most teasing, quite literally the brat of Joshua's friend group but you can't say you dislike him.

It's quite the opposite in reality. He has made an impression on you ever since you arrived with Joshua, as he whisked you away from your date and started spewing all types of info about him.

"Gosh, drunk Joshua is the worst. " The man shakes his head as if recalling a certain memory. "The only thing he does is sing Sunday morning and he just doesn't fucking stop. Your ears will literally bleed off."

You can't help but giggle, thinking fondly about drunk Joshua whom you've never seen but wish to. Jeonghan raises his glass of whiskey to yours and clinks them before taking a sip and leaning over the bar counter. "Oh! You won't believe it. Aside from going around advertising himself as the gentleman, one time in college— "

"I think you've said enough, Jeonghan." Joshua emerges from behind you and you soon feel his presence on your back. The man in question throws a lazy smirk at his friend, "Ah, come on. I've so much yet to say. I need to get back at you. You weren't exactly merciful when you told my girl about all the shit I did in college."

You realize they are talking about Jeonghan's girlfriend, now fiance who once used to be his sugar baby. Joshua had shared with you all the juicy details.

"Was just giving her a heads up," Joshua shrugs nonchalantly, one of his hands coming to rest on your shoulder. "And I really wish she was here tonight so you'd leave my girl alone."

My girl.

His girl.

The words make heat spread through your entire body as your brain stops functioning for a second. You almost don't register Jeonghan's wink as he saunters away when his phone starts ringing, saying, "Oh come on, couldn't just leave a pretty girl alone. Oh, hey darling. How is it...."

Too preoccupied with your thoughts you don't realize Joshua is calling for you until he gently shakes your shoulders. "Oh— um, you were saying?"

He watches you with cautious eyes, "I hope Jeonghan didn't bother you too much."

You shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. He's a fun guy. Where's his fiance by the way?"

"Went to visit a sick relative with her brother. Jeonghan is gonna drop by there after this."

"Oh, wow. That's sweet."

"Mhmm." He hums distractedly. You feel his eyes rake down your body hungrily and you can't help the giddiness and confidence it blossoms within you. You definitely don't regret the tight evening dress you wore solely for the purpose of teasing him. You can't keep being the only one in this relationship who losses their mind when the other is anywhere near.

"Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?" He asks, shuffling closer to you, too close as large his body presses hotly against yours. You can't help a teasing smile. "Hmm, you may have earlier in the car. Jeonghan also complimented my looks."

On the way here Joshua had been a tease, his hands stroking your naked thighs, hovering dangerously close to your core but never quite touching. He didn't even try to hide how much it satisfied him to see you squirm and you can't complain too much either.

"Stop being a brat," Joshua's voice is deep, ringing with a clear warning but it's too fun not to work up a man so calm and put together like him. So you smirk and stroke the lapels of his blue blazer, batting your eyelashes at him, "What do you mean? I'm just telling the truth."

A deep sound, similar to a growl resonates from his chest as he grabs your waist and pulls you closer. His warm breath hovers over your ear as he trails teasing kisses from there to your jawline. "Don't be a tease if you want to come tonight." He whispers in your ears as your breaths come out as heavy pants. Pulling back like he didn't just promise you a dirty thing he states, "Now come along. We need to be with the crowd or I'll lose my mind and take you home right now."

The tension radiating off of Joshua's body is so thick you can taste it on your tongue. It's so much fun, teasing him when he can do nothing about it and you feel so powerful, so pleased. Every time he clenches his jaw and grabs your hand even tighter you have to stop yourself from bursting into giggles in front of the whole table.

Dinner had started a while ago as everyone sat around the large rectangular table, eating and chattering loudly. After you've had a couple or so bites of your steak you had decided to initiate playing with another meat as your hands started traveling to Joshua's thighs, innocent at first. He didn't pay much heed to it, busy conversing with his friends. When you were sure he wouldn't remove your hand, you went bolder, cupping his dick through his pants and rubbing him all over.

The look he sent your way should have been recorded in history books and you really wish you could take a picture. His glare, paired with his gritting teeth made you laugh a little, earning a few looks from other people but you brushed it off. Maybe it was because of the wine or Joshua's generally overwhelming presence but you felt giggly and bold, so you decided not to waste this perfect, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Joshua Hong lose his shit.

"Your ass is going to pay for this." He threatens quietly but you can't quite take it seriously as you are busy observing the growing bulge in his pants. To know that you have this effect on him makes you feel something unlike ever before. So you just bite your lip and give him a wink, fingers stroking his large thigh.

As soon as dinner was over and Joshua had adjusted his pants, he was dragging you out with him, hastily throwing goodbyes to his friends. Jeonghan gave you two a knowing look before winking cheekily at you making you laugh as Joshua pushes you towards his Audi.

As soon as your ass hits the passenger's seat, Joshua is starting the car, driving off at an alarming speed.

"You made me consider drinking and calling my driver to pick us up," he mutters, eyes trained on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You give him an innocent look, face forming a faux look of concern, "Hmm, you should have. You look so tense, daddy."

His response is a grunt and he grips the wheel tighter; if that's even possible. "Start thinking of a safeword. You're going to need it tonight."

That gets your attention.

"S-safeword?" You breathe. "Yes darling, a safeword." He casts a quick, cocky glance at you and your stomach somersaults.

What has he planned for you? The anticipation and thrill explode in your veins like fireworks as you anxiously tap your foot, wishing you could just transport yourselves back to his place with some machine.

Joshua focuses on getting you two home for the rest of the drive, which he accomplishes, in record time. It's a surprise you weren't pulled over. Before you can even blink he has turned the car off and is dragging you towards the elevator.

Once you are in, he pushes you against the wall and smothers his lips to yours, wasting no time. The ferocity in his movements elicits a moan from you as your hands claw his large back. Feeling those tense muscles underneath his blazer makes you let out a whine of need, though it is muffled with his tongue in your mouth.

The ding of the elevator lets you know you're here and once again, he's making you move in the blink of an eye. Your brain is too fuzzy to keep up with his hasty movements but you have no complaints about being manhandled by Joshua. You kind of wish he'd carry you around like a sack of potatoes.

Damn, what has gotten into you?

Joshua steps into his apartment before you and heads for the kitchen but not before barking an order at you. "Go to the bedroom and strip. I want you only in your panties by the time I'm back."

Your core clenches deliciously at his command. Before your brain is fully processing his command your feet carry you towards his bedroom, where you start peeling your dress off as quickly as possible. Once it's off and you are only in your red lacy panties you scurry towards the bed and sit, your feet dangling from the side, waiting anxiously.

After what felt like ages, which was probably a couple of minutes, the man returns, sauntering into the room with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a small bucket of ice in the other. The dark look in his eyes shoots shivers down your spine and makes your nipples harden.

God, you'd let him do just about anything to you.

"Have you picked out a safeword?" His eyes gaze into you so deeply you're scared you'll end up in flames. You've to swallow to find your voice. "Y-yes. Gentleman."

You have decided to use that word to tease Joshua after Jeonghan told you about how he used to claim to be one back when they were in college.

Joshua snorts, chuckling dryly as he sets down the ice and whiskey on the bedside table. "Always a brat, I see. Well, use it whenever you feel uncomfortable and want me to stop. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... daddy."

He gives you a salacious smirk and you swear it's enough to make you come. "Good girl. Get on the bed now. On all fours."

On fours? Holy shit.

You blink, taking a moment to process his command before shuffling to the position he wants you to be in.

"Good." He hums and you feel him coming to stand behind you. Then, you feel his movements and the clink of metal makes you realize he's taking off his belt.

"I'm going to spank you with this, do you hear me?" You feel the long piece of leather dangle next to you and your throat dries up.

Holy fucking baby Jesus.

You know he's expecting a response so you choke out one. "Yes, d-daddy."

"What do you do when you feel uncomfortable?"

"U-use my safeword. G-gentleman."

"Hmm, looks like my dumb girl can do more than tease her daddy." He hums, his knuckles stroking your ass cheek, giving you goosebumps. You've to fight to hold yourself up, just the faintest of his touch making your knees and elbows weak.

"We'll go with ten spanks."

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

"Okay, daddy."

The anticipation is mind-boggling, breath talkingly crazy. You hold your breath and wait for the first strike which comes as a sudden smack, jostling you forward as you let out a moan.

You did not expect to like it so much.

"Okay?" Joshua's voice is quiet, patient and you nod your head vigorously, eager for more, "Yes, yes. M-more, please." You hear him make an amused sound and you would give anything to see his expression right now.

Just as you are getting lost in your thoughts, he delivers the next strike, wringing an equally needy moan from you. Then he delivers three more spanks in quick succession, all on your left cheek as you feel the skin heat up.

"Fuck!" You're out of breath when he lands the sixth strike on your right cheek. "Do you need a moment?" He asks, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. You shake your head, "N-no, please, continue."

The way you are dripping right now is absolutely mortifying and you are more desperate for his dick inside you than your next breath.

Fuck, how can getting your ass whipped turn you on so much?

He smacks your ass three more times repeatedly, as tears blur your vision, then strokes your burning flesh softly, "Such a good girl. One last time." His voice is hushed as you hold your breath, anticipating the end of your torture which comes stronger than ever. The last smack he lands on your ass makes your elbows give up as you whimper and mewl into the sheets.

Immediately you hear Joshua drop the belt before he gently turns you to face him gathering your body in his lap. Your ass feels like it's on fire as it comes in contact with his pants, making you whimper.

"Fuck, such a good little girl. You're so perfect." He praises you quietly, removing the hairs from your face as he rubs your shoulders comfortingly. Your heart gallops in your chest as you watch him look at you with adoration and pride and at that moment you realize you'd do anything to make this man proud.

"Should we take a break? Would like to get something to eat or drink?" He asks, eyes searching yours for discomfort.

Yes, your cock.

You shake your head. "N-no, please. Just fuck me."

That earns you a laugh from him as he shakes his head amusedly, his eyes crinkling in that beautiful manner that messes with your head. "So impatient." He presses a kiss on your temple before gently settling you on the bed and retrieving the belt from the floor. "Scoot up, sweets. Put your head on the pillow."

You swallow, eyeing the belt with wide eyes but do as he asks nonetheless, moving carefully not to scrap your ass too hard against the sheets. Once you are in position he crawls up towards you and then sits on his knees as he ties your hands to the headboard using his belt.

A shiver runs down your spine as you conjure up all the things he might do to you.

"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable, hmm?" He says as he gets up from the bed and picks up the glass of whiskey and takes a sip, heated eyes trained on your vulnerable form. Slowly his gaze travels from your eyes to your lips and then to your breasts before moving even lower. Once he has finished eye fucking you, he moves back into the bed and places himself right over your waist, his thighs around your smaller frame.

With the evilest of all smiles, he leans down to kiss your puckered nipple and then pours the cool whiskey right onto the sensitive bud making you squeal.

"Oh my god!"

You writhe, feeling the liquid drip down your breasts but before it can travel too far Joshua is lapping it all up, his heated tongue moving all over your cold flesh.

You're teetering on the verge of insanity.

"O-oh fuck! Daddy!" You scream. The pleasure is mind-numbing and you aren't even sure if you want him to stop or ask for more. You feel him grin against your skin as he pours more whiskey on your other breast and then continues the same torture on them. You keep howling and writhing helplessly beneath him, your core throbbing with utter need, words of pleas escaping your lips like a mantra.

Once he is satisfied and has left your skin feeling sticky, he takes one of the leftover ice cubes into his mouth and giving you a look of warning he presses it against your nipple.

"Shit!" You scream, legs thrashing around as your back arches from the bed. Your already hardened nipple feels achy and sore now as he teases your areola with the ice between his teeth before pressing it directly on the center of your nipple. As the ice comes in contact with your heated skin it starts to melt and drip down your breasts, making you shiver.

"J-Joshua, please."

"Hmm, not my name now, is it?" He hums, letting the now small, melting piece of ice drip down your chest as he reaches for a new one from the bucket. Taking it between his teeth once again, he gives you a cheeky smirk before pressing it against your other nipple, torturing you until it melts down completely and tears from your eyes trail down your temples.

"Daddy! Fuck! P-please—" as he lets the second cube melt into your skin, he encloses his lips around your over-sensitive nipple and gives it a hard suck, making your brain go haywire.

"Please! No more! P-please, just fuck me..." You whimper, your vision is blurred with tears, frustration getting to you. The urge to be filled with his cock, to reach your sweet release is stronger than ever.

"Sweet girl, begging so nicely," he hums and kisses you softly on the cheek, the action a complete one-eighty to his earlier one. "You need me here baby?" With your eyes shut, you feel the pads of his fingers brush against your clit and you moan loudly, "Yes! Yes, please! Please let me cum."

You hear a noncommittal hum, as if he's still considering it and you have the urge to scream. "Did you learn your lesson, sweets?" He asks and you have to blink as you process his words.

What is he talking about?

Your disorientated look amuses him. He pushes one of his fingers inside you and while his thumb strokes your clit he moves his face towards your dripping core, "Will you tease daddy again?" He asks, his voice low, eyes sparkling.

"No!" You immediately yell. "No! I'm so s-sorry, daddy. P-please, just let me come." Your hips chase his touch needily as you feel your orgasm approaching. Joshua seems to take mercy on you as he starts moving his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your clit harder while his tongue greedily laps up all your arousal. And that's all it takes for you to reach your release and drown in it.

Your scream rings in your ears as your toes curl and your whole body shudders, riding the most intense orgasm you've had yet. Tears burn your eyes and your throat hurts from all the screaming but you don't care, your mind lost in a place of pure lust.

"Good girl. Coming so nicely for me." He whispers, his voice slightly hoarse, his lips wet, eyes trained on your core hungrily.

As you start to come down from your release, Joshua moves off the bed, not before kissing your shoulder sweetly and shoving his fingers into your mouth to lick them clean. Then he stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching your helpless form with dark hunger in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, he starts peeling his navy blue blazer from his large shoulders, fully revealing the minty blue turtleneck underneath it. The material hugs his bulky form perfectly, especially around his chest and you mentally take a note to appreciate that part of him sometime later, when you are not tied up and desperate for dick.

"I can see how much you want me," his deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "You aren't even trying to hide it, dirty girl. You're dripping all over the bed." He observes, eyes trained between your legs as he peels off the turtleneck and bares his glorious body to your hungry eyes.

If you were dripping before, now you are flooding the bed. The sight of his broad, muscular chest and the sheer dominance radiating from his presence makes you whimper pathetically. And he isn't even fully naked yet.

"P-please, daddy. Please, f-fuck me." You beg.

"I will, sweets. I will." And that's a promise.

He unbuttons his pants and swiftly tugs them down with his boxers, finally revealing the star of the show. His cock is so hard it looks painful and you can see precum oozing out from the tip.

Subconsciously you lick your dry lips. Will he fuck your mouth now? Should you beg for it?

"I know what you are thinking, dirty girl," he muses as he crawls on top of you. "But not today," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your pussy and stroking two fingers on your folds to collect your wetness. Keeping his eyes on you, he pops them into his mouth and sucks his fingers, obscene sounds echoing in the room that makes you writhe helplessly.

"P-please..."

Giving you a look of reassurance and promise he shifts so that his cock is positioned right in front of your opening. Tapping your sensitive core with the head of his member, he grunts and then slides inside, in a full thrust.

"Fuck!" You almost come at the overwhelming fullness. "Shit," he groans, eyes shutting down. "So fucking tight, sweets."

Joshua wastes no time, increasing his pace as he starts to rock the bed, his unbelievably thick length going in and out of you nonstop. Your mouth remains open, voice gone from all the screaming, only sobs and whimpers escaping you as you feel his thrusts in every nerve of your body. You know you're not far from coming.

"You are squeezing me so bad, baby. I should fuck you open with a dildo next time." He says and the sheer filthiness in his words makes your eyes roll back into your head as your toes curl at the mental image.

Before you can warn him, you are coming.

"Fuck, fuck!" You hear him hiss through the ringing in your ears as your whole body shakes in the impact of your orgasm. It's a miracle you haven't blacked out yet.

"Shit, holy shit." He groans, his moan drawing out as he feels your walls clenching around him repeatedly. "I'm coming too, fuck." He grunts, his pace faltering and through the mind-blowing haze of your orgasm, you manage to see his face, godlike and lost in the throes of pleasure; something that will be ingrained in your mind for years to come.

As you twitch and shake beneath him, you feel him release inside you, making you moan out loud at the warm feeling. His large body shudders on top of you, your hands holding onto his back tightly as he fills you up. Still not done with you, Joshua's hand moves into your clit and he wastes no time rubbing the swollen bud making you shriek so loud you think your voice will break.

"Joshua! Please! I can't— "

"One last time, sweets. One last time," he whispers and as if your body is on autopilot, a slave to his command, another wave of pleasure rushes through you that makes black spots appear in your vision. You feel hazy and achy all over but oh so sated and drowsy, feeling like you are floating on a bunch of clouds.

The next moments are blurry, you can barely sense some shifting around you, and the feel of a soft warm hand on your body as you are pulled into a deep, dark slumber.

"So...you are saying that he's not only ungodly handsome, unbelievably polite but also a freak in bed?" Kira whisper yells, clutching your shoulders and violently shaking you as she squeals. You cringe and look around the fairly empty grocery shop aisles and pray that no one heard her. "Keep it down, will you?" You grit your teeth, scowling at her but she doesn't listen. She keeps on giggling to herself while giving you a dirty look, making you regret spilling the beans to her.

You don't know why you did that. It has been a day since that magical night with Joshua and though your whipped ass now hurts significantly less, you couldn't forget about the act, the filthiness of it, the pleasure you got from it, the way you crave it again.

Confused and horny, you decided to spit it all out as soon as you two met today.

"Stop looking at me like that," you hiss, trying to ignore the dirty stare she's giving you and busying yourself with searching for the items you need.

"I gotta tell Naomi." She grins as she quickly fetches her phone out of her purse. "No!" You hiss, reaching for her phone, mortified, regretting waking up this morning but she dodges your hands and skips away as she quickly starts typing. There's a little struggle between the two of you but when you get your hands on the device the damage is already done.

Kira: ______ GOT HER ASS SPANKED BY HER DADDY!!!! SHE LOVED IT!!!

Naomi: AAAAAAA! WTFFFFF!!! I WANT DETAILS. HANG OUT AT MY PLACE NOW!

Groaning, you hand her the device back. "I didn't say I loved it."

"Oh but I could see it in your face!" She keeps grinning like a stupid idiot. "You had this longing, fond tone in your voice. You're literally glowing. You look like you're in love!"

Her words bring your entire world to a halt. The hand that was reaching for the milk carton stills midway as you become solid like a statue and let your friend's words wash over you.

No, no it can't be true.

"Holy shit, _____ I didn't— " Kira's voice is breathy. "You— you really are..."

"No!" You snap, head whipping towards her. "No! Of course not!" The words feel impotent and pathetic even to your ears but you stay adamant. "No, I'm not. It's not like that."

Kira stays silent, giving you a sad, almost pitiful look and you half expect her to start talking but she doesn't and for once, you are glad she shuts up.

The thought that you may have fallen in love with Joshua scares you to your bones. You cannot bring yourself to even think of it, much less acknowledge it. You just can't.

If life has taught you one thing, it is that love is a fickle thing and for some people, like yourself, it does more damage than good.

That weekend Joshua sends his car to drop you off at his place to get ready as he announces that he's taking you out for the evening.

You are a little surprised when you first receive his text and you're even more shocked when you go to his penthouse and find out a dress has already been picked for you, with shoes and all other accessories.

"Wow..." You're a little dazed with all the arrangement and wondering what is the occasion. Joshua gives you a sheepish smile when he sees your dazzled look.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"You'll see. I'll leave you to get ready." He answers, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek and heading out the door. You gaze at the beautiful red garment with slight hesitation. Joshua has been weird the last few days; his texts seemed a little off and now that you've seen him in person, he looks a little jittery and nervous and he didn't answer your question. It makes you wonder if everything is okay.

Maybe it's a problem at the company? But that doesn't really explain his behavior. If it was regarding his business, he would have been serious and collected, not like this.

Despite the uneasy feeling in your gut, you start getting ready. A while later, when you are done with your makeup and putting on your earrings, there's a knock at the door, before Joshua steps into the room.

Oh wow.

He's dressed simple yet expensive; in an off-white suit over a loose white tee, a Dior chain dangling around his neck. His hair is half brushed back and a half left to cover his forehead and there is this ethereal glow on his face that makes your heart skip a few beats.

You've to bitterly remind yourself not to fall for him. Even more, that is.

"Hey." He gives you a soft smile and you almost melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Hi," your voice is breathy.

"You look... absolutely gorgeous." He takes determined steps towards you, eyes going over your form before coming to stop at your face. "So fucking beautiful." He whispers, his thumb reaching out to brush against your cheek and your heart quite literally leaps out of your chest. The subtle scent of his cologne doesn't help either. He smells fresh and inviting and all the good things in the world. You are scared for a second that you might pass out.

"Thanks." You whisper, shyly averting your eyes from him and trying to get your racing heart under control.

With one hand Joshua tilts your face up and before you can blink, he kisses you, gently pressing his lips against yours. Your heart beats so loudly you're scared he can hear it and the urge to just give up all your barriers and break down in front of him and tell him everything in your heart is too much for you to bear.

So before you do that, you take a small step back that puts distance between your lips. Joshua looks at you, confused as his brows knit together.

"I...I'm sorry if I made— " He starts.

"No! I just...my lipstick is gonna get messy," you're quick to interject him, voice jittery. He gazes at you for a brief second before laughing softly, "Oh yeah, right. Sorry. Well then, come out when you're finished. The car's waiting."

He gives you his infamous sweet smile before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. You don't realize you were holding a breath until he's gone and you feel air rush back into your lungs as you collapse onto the stool in front of the mirror.

After you've finished dressing up, Joshua guided you to the car, his arm casually slinging to yours. A quiet, somewhat tense car ride later, you find yourself in front of what can be the most beautiful place you've ever seen. It's a grandiloquent fine dining restaurant and just by looking at the beautiful, antique European architecture of the building, the gilded marbled pillars and crystal chandeliers, your breath is stolen away.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Joshua asks, a smirk on his face.

You can only nod, as you gape at the marvelous place in wonder and let Joshua lead you through. You look completely out of place; while everyone else looks calm and habituated, talking and eating, you keep turning your head in various directions, eyes wide open and small gasps leaving you every now and then.

But you're yet to be surprised as a finely dressed man leads you both to a pair of double doors which open to reveal the huge balcony, in the middle of which sits a candle-lit table with two chairs.

Suddenly, all your breath wheezes out of your lungs and you turn into stone. This feels too intimate. Way too intimate for a sugar daddy and his sugar baby. Your throat dries up.

"Let's sit," Joshua ushers you towards the table as he helps you sit down. You've turned stoic, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you start getting an idea of where this is going.

While a part of you really, really likes it, the larger part, the part of you that always puts up walls to protect yourself goes into fight mode.

You can't trust yourself enough for this. You can't trust the universe enough for this. This all feels like a cruel game, a game in which you are bound to lose.

"Do you like it?" Joshua asks softly.

"Yeah. It's beautiful." Your tone is rather poignant. "I've to say this was not what I was expecting."

Joshua frowns. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Maybe just another business event or something." You shrug, your hand motioning around vaguely. Joshua is silent for a bit, watching you with careful eyes.

"Why does it feel like you don't like this?"

His voice is just a breath above a whisper and you almost think you weren't meant to hear it. The hurt is clear in his voice and it absolutely wrecks you, making you want to scream out loud how much you love it all. How much you love this.

How much you love him.

You feel nauseous. The fears and traumas buried deep within you surface all at once and you have this urge to run away from everything forever.

"I—" whatever you wanted to say dies in your throat as you meet Joshua's expectant, slightly pained eyes. Your lips press into a thin line as you remain silent. A waiter arrives with a bottle of wine, breaking the moment between the two of you. He asks if you are ready to order and you shake your head, pretending to busy yourself with the menu and Joshua dismisses him.

Your eyes scan over the words but your brain processes none of it, too busy overthinking this situation. You are tired, burdened and oh how much you want to cave in, finally give up, retract your weapons and let him do whatever he wants to with you but you're scared to death.

A courageous person would do that. They would fight for the person they love, struggle to acquire anything good life threw their way. But you are not that person.

All your life you've been hiding, running and burying things that scared you. That's the only way you know how to survive. So you make your mind up.

"Joshua," you utter his name, closing the menu and sitting up straighter to meet his eyes. "I can't do this."

The man is in the middle of pouring you wine when he stills, his eyes fleeting over to you, confused at first, then worried. He sets down the wine bottle and murmurs, "What do you mean?"

"I can't do this. I- can't...This is too much," you breathe, hating how your emotions choke you up. Joshua looks like a puppy that has been kicked. His eyes search for yours anxiously. "You don't like this place?" The softness in his voice tugs at your heartstrings and you feel yourself getting more annoyed.

"No!" You snap. "It's not about the place. It's about this. What we're doing. I... can't. I can't do this, please..." You're fighting to keep your tears at bay. The pain and helplessness in Joshua's eyes are unmistakable. "If you want we can just go home..." He's still clinging onto that stupid hope, ignoring the real meaning behind your words even though he knows it well.

God, why did it have to be this man who fell for you? And why do keep feeling the same for him?

You can't see him in any more distress or you're going to end up running into his arms, soothing away all his pain. So you inhale deeply and stand up. "Joshua. I can't give you more. I'm sorry but this is too much for me. I know what you are expecting. And I can't give you that. I'm sorry. This relationship has no place for love."

He stands up with you too and watches you with wide, panicked eyes. "Let's talk about it, _____. You don't have to give me anything you don't want to." His voice is feather-light and it once again almost breaks your resolve.

"No," you shake your head. "I can't stay with you. This...you— you overwhelm me. This...what we're doing right now, I can't do this. This is too much for me." You swallow and blink away the tears that are on the verge of falling.

Joshua watches you in silence for a while and as you reach for your purse, you hear him whisper. "I'm sorry, ______. Please."

And the dam breaks.

"No!" You are yelling now. "Don't apologize! Please! This is not your fault! It's mine. I can't do this Joshua. I can't give you what you want. I am not the person you need me to be. I— I can't...I'm sorry, Joshua."

"But you already are. You are what I need."

All the air leaves your lungs. The feelings you've been experiencing so far increase tenfold. He speaks the words that you never, ever thought someone would say to you in this lifetime and now you're at your wit's end. His admission makes this all so much real.

This has to end.

"No, I'm not! Please leave me alone!" You yell, hiccuping midway as you scramble to sling your bag over your shoulder and without even sparing a glance at him, you run out of the terrace.

Even though Joshua calls for you from behind you tune his voice out and keep taking determined steps until you're out and far away from the restaurant.

It's better this way when you can still walk away from him. When you are not madly, deeply in love with him. Who are you kidding? That man made his way into your heart the very first time you saw him.

It's ripping you apart, leaving him, but it's not as painful as when he eventually abandons you. They all leave. There is no happy ending. Not for you. Not in this life.

You're doing this for yourself. You're doing this for yourself. You keep chanting in your head as you walk out of the restaurant, feet briskly moving against the pavement as you step further away from that lavish place.

Fetching your phone out as means of distraction, you find messages from Naomi and Kira, wishing you well on your date and whatnot. You scoff, shaking your head humourlessly as you try not to break into tears. Instead, you type out a message in the group chat.

Can I come over? Let's meet at Kira's place.

You shut your phone off as soon as they start sending concerned messages. You can't talk right now. You need to gather your shit together and just breathe for a few moments.

You've probably done the stupidest thing on this planet and broke an innocent man's heart so you need to have a few moments to yourself. You walk aimlessly around the city, the cold air making you shiver a little but you welcome it as it is a good distraction.

When you arrive at a random park, you find yourself a bench and sit down to watch the dark sky and the soft twinkle of the stars. And it seems like there's no escape for you as you are suddenly overwhelmed with a certain memory regarding Joshua.

It was at beginning of your relationship when you had just started to stay over at his place during the weekends. One night after dinner, he requested you to sit with him on his balcony as he offered you a glass of wine.

High above the ground, closer to the sky, you sat with him in utter silence except for a soft melody playing in the background from a speaker. None of you said a word but the moment was nowhere near awkward but purely magical. You had spent hours simply stargazing which was odd to do in the bustling city. For some reason, on that magical night, the sky was filled with more stars than you had ever seen in your life.

Joshua kept refilling your glasses and exchanged soft, coquettish smiles, sometimes sweet touches with you that sent your heart in a frenzy. It was a night of silence, peace and magic and now that the moment is a far memory, you realize something.

That was probably the time you really fell in love with Joshua.

The realization brings tears to your eyes as you watch the sky now, alone and broken-hearted and like a cruel game of fate, the sky is full of stars today, too.

Whatever was left of your heart breaks even more as you try to wipe the tears and keep that at bay.

This moment right now is painful and absolutely heart wrenching but this is also a moment of clarity for you, you realize. You're a coward for running from the only good thing in your life but somehow, now you're strong enough to cut off a part of you, the cancerous part that you've been dragging for far too long.

So you quickly call the person from your caller list and wait for them to pick up.

"Finally changed your mind?" Is the first thing your sister says.

You clench your fists and bite your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out. "I'm calling to let you know that I won't receive your call ever again. I don't want anything to do with you. Or mom. I'm done."

"What?" She shrieks. "Listen, who do you think you are— "

"Aren't you tired too?" You whisper, finally breaking. "How long will this go on? It's been like this since dad died. We're a family. We're supposed to protect each other, love each other. But we're killing each other here and I'm tired. Let's just stop, Melissa."

There's silence on the other end of the line.

You continue. "I let mom go when she left us and refused to be helped. She's a lost cause and we know it. You can't keep sending her money. Well, if you want to, then do but I won't. I'm tired, Melissa."

"So you are dumping her on me?" She accuses.

"No, I'm not." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. "I'm telling you what I'm going to do. I'm telling you that you can do whatever you want to. Send her money, keep in touch with her or don't, I don't care. I won't accept your calls from now on and I hope you won't call too, Melissa."

"Fuck you, _____."

A lone teardrop pours down your cheek. "You were not the best sister but I understand you a little now. You were young and you had your own life. Still, you didn't kick me out when mom left. Thank you for that. And I'm sorry. If we meet again, let it be under better circumstances."

"Listen here, you fuck—"

"Goodbye, Melissa."

As you stare at the dark screen of your mobile, you feel like a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel lighter and it feels easier to breathe. So you do.

You just breathe.

You inhale a lungful of air, despite it being chilly and try to put everything past you. Getting up from the bench you walk back towards the main road where you hail a cab to take you to Kira's place.

It has never been this quiet with the three of you. Whenever you all gathered it would be pure chaos but the scenery today is something you never expected to face.

Kira and Naomi sit on both of your sides, their face solemn as they stare at the wine glasses in their hands, much like what you are doing.

You came here and told them everything, crying your eyes out as you relieved the entire evening once again. They listened and even they got teary eyed which prolonged another crying session.

Now you sit on the sofa, drinking wine to knock yourself out but somehow that seems like a burden too. Now that you have no more tears left to cry there's a chilling hollow settling into your bones and you feel like a shell, an empty person, completely vacant inside.

"Why do I feel like I'm the one who broke up a 10 year old relationship or something?" Kira whispers, staring ahead blankly.

There's a pregnant pause in the air.

Her words sit heavy on your heart.

Naomi, who has been totally silent until now, shares her two cents. "______...what if...what if you read way too much into this? What if he just took you out on a simple dinner? What if he doesn't, you know...want you like that?"

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. "Naomi," you sigh. "You should have seen the look in his eyes. He— he looked at me with so much hope, like I'm his entire world or something." You shake your head, trying to rid the image of his sparkling eyes from your brain. They will haunt you even on your deathbed.

You set the glass down with a rather loud clank. "I mean— I knew something was up...he was being so weird the past few days. But I— I just couldn't imagine that he'd actually do something like this..." You rub your temples.

"What the fuck is wrong with that man?" Now you're yelling like a madwoman. "That guy could have anyone he wants but he chooses me! A good-for-nothing, weird and bitchy and broke college student! That's suspicious, right? He really can't really love me, can he?"

Your friends give you judgemental, you've completely lost your mind looks. "First of all," Kira starts in her no-nonsense tone, which is rare. "You are not good for nothing, weird or bitchy. Broke? Yes. But who the fuck cares? We're all broke. If anything, _____, you're a person full of dreams and ambitions and love. We have received so much love from you, even though you didn't get that from your family. I know you don't let many get close to you but the few of us who have been blessed with your presence know and feel and see what a truly great person you are."

Your friend's words close up your throat and suddenly, you feel like you've swallowed a sock. You hate this. You hate when they praise you like this and hate how much you want to believe them, how much you crave these words.

"Seriously," Naomi says. "You've never denied any of our requests. You've been there for us, for me, always. Even when I couldn't finish my history report, you came to my place in the middle of the night just to be my moral support. You give and give and give, ______ even though you have never received enough, you give, unknowingly."

"Guys..." Fresh tears start accumulating in your eyes. "You're my friends, I'm supposed to do all that." You mumble.

"No, you're not. You could've been a bitch of a friend and used us to get what you needed. And you literally forgave your sister for all her bullshit. " Kira rolls her eyes. "Give yourself a little credit, ______. You had a tough life but you've still managed to become this amazing person and you've been giving selflessly for us."

"No wonder Joshua would fall for you." Naomi playfully pokes your temple. "You're incredibly dense but you're a lovely person and an even lovelier company. You definitely made Joshua feel something that he didn't feel before to make him fall for you."

A lone tear trails down your cheek as you fiddle with your fingers.

Kira downs her glass in one go and shuffles next to you. "Now that we are being honest and spilling whatever the fuck is in our hearts, lemme say something else. You're a pussy. You're a pussy for leaving that man, a simp of a man like that."

You narrow your eyes at your friend's words and from beside you, Naomi snorts. "Yeah, I agree with that."

You turn to glare at her. So they are ganging up on you now?

"Seriously. Joshua is like a guy straight out of a romance novel or some shit. And I'm not talking about his billionaire extravaganza or whatever. I'm talking about his personality. Yes, I've never met him but he sounds so pure and gentle— "

"Except when he's in bed, of course," Kira interrupts with a giggle which tells you she's pretty drunk.

Before Naomi can continue her monologue, you stand up and hold your hands up in surrender. "Okay! Okay! I know what a great guy he is, alright? You don't have to kiss his ass like this. Besides, whose team are you on?"

"Team Joshua, sorry," Kira replies in an instant, leaning back into the sofa and giving you a cocky smile.

"Me too." Naomi gives you a sheepish smile.

"You two are traitors, you know?" You hiss at them.

"We're the speakers of the harsh truths. And I will say one more thing." Kira holds her hand up as if asking permission. "You should try."

"Try what?"

"To win him back."

You stare at her, incredulous, utterly baffled and if she had told you to run over an old lady or something, you'd be less surprised.

"You're drunk, Kira." You sigh.

"She's completely right." Naomi is quick to defend. "Who knows, _____? Maybe you still have a chance. Maybe this decision will change your life forever. Yes, there's nothing set in stone but I think you've tortured yourself enough. And this one time, just this once, you should chase after something. I mean, it is fucking clear you two love each other. Why are you putting the two of you through so much pain?"

You swallow. It seems like there's no ground beneath you, you're free falling and falling into a deep dark abyss where her words echo around and feel like a cold bucket of water on your skin.

"I don't know. I'm scared." Your cracks as you realize how much you want to see Joshua, just once more. You want to tell him how sorry you are and how much you love him, how he has become your hope and your entire world in such a short time.

You really are a pussy.

"Oh, babe." Kira quickly comes to wrap her arms around you, followed by Naomi. "It's okay. It's perfectly normal. But it shouldn't stop you."

"Let me call you a cab," Naomi is already moving away and rushing for the door.

"Wait- are you crazy? I didn't even— " you're hushed as Kira puts a finger on your lips. "Shut up. Get in the car and go to him. Talk to him. If he doesn't give you another chance, my name isn't Kira and I vow to pay for your rent for the rest of our lives."

You can't help but snort. "Be prepared."

She rolls her eyes. "But. If he does take you back, which he will, you shall attend my wedding wearing a tiger costume."

Before you can protest, Naomi rushes back in. "Hey! The cab's here."

"Go get him, tiger!"

As you are heading for the car, you hear Hoshi, Kira's boyfriend, emerge from his room in which he had been cooped up until now, giving the three of you privacy. "Hey, babe! Who are you calling tiger other than me?"

"Oh shut up and take me to bed, tiger."

You shake your head, a smile on your lips as you feel a little hope bloom in your chest.

Maybe you still have a chance.

This is stupid. So unbelievable stupid and embarrassing. No one in their right mind would do this.

As you stand in front of Joshua's front door tipsy, tired and slightly shivering from the cold, you realize how badly this could go.

But since you've come this far, you might as well just go with it because the cab fare was definitely not cheap.

Your finger which has been hovering over the calling bell button with a gap of millimeters finally presses it and you go completely rigid, waiting for Joshua to either open the door or at least receive your call on the intercom.

Looks like he has decided you don't deserve to put your foot in his place no more because there's a beep alerting you that he has received the call and is currently watching you through the screen.

You realize you've never been this nervous in your life as you stare at the intercom camera, wide eyed with an embarrassed, awkward smile plastered on your face.

Shit. Get yourself together before he decides to end the call.

"H-hi," your voice is so pathetic to your own ears that you want to punch the wall and howl. "It's me...as you can see..."

Your subconscious facepalms and starts to bury herself into an imaginary ground. You wish you could do the same.

"I'm sorry, I— " You exhale a deep breath. You don't even know what you are trying to say. Rubbing your hands on your arms to provide some warmth, you take several deep breaths.

You can do this. You've got this one chance. You can't fuck this up.

This time, determined, you focus your eyes back on the camera. "As you can see, I'm really bad at this and talking to a camera feels even weird. So I'm just gonna sit down here and talk. Please just listen to me, that's all I ask of you."

You make yourself comfortable on the ground as you lean against the wall just by the door to his penthouse. As soon as your ass hits the floor, you shiver due to its coldness.

You'll probably die of pneumonia but it'll be so worth it.

Inhaling a lungful of air, you start. "I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things, Joshua, especially about tonight. I did the most horrible, despicable, atrocious thing ever and I probably broke your heart but you have to know I didn't mean it and I didn't want to do it."

You let out a breath, blinking repeatedly to stop the tears from falling.

"I'm so, so stupid, Joshua. And I'm such a coward. You're the best thing that has happened to me in this hell of a life and I've always pushed you away. But I never wanted to do it. I never wanted to let you go. I wanted to be close to you. I longed for you more and more every day and that sacred me. I'm s-so s-scared, Joshua." Somewhere along the line, your voice cracks and a quiet sob ripples out of your throat. Clearing your voice, you start again.

"You know, I've always been left behind. The people that were supposed to love me, didn't and that made me realize that if they didn't love me, how could someone else do that? I know this sounds like bullshit but I've always been scared of this. I hated the thought of being abandoned or seen as a burden or a charity. And I kept making things worse in my head even though the reality was far from it."

"The time I spent with you was magical, Joshua. Every moment of it. Even though I didn't deserve any of it, you gave me so much and made me feel so appreciated. I can't thank you enough for that. And I can't apologize enough for what I've done to you today. But still, I'm here and I'll say I'm sorry. I'll say it a million times not to make you forgive me but to show you that I mean it." You breathe in deeply.

There has been utter silence and you would think he left but there has been no sound from the device to let you know he hung up.

Once again, gathering all your courage, you speak. "I know you'll probably never want to see my face again but just know that..." You stop as you have to speak the three words that have been on the tip of your tongue for ages now. The words that you've always wanted to tell him yet you didn't. Well, now's your chance.

"I love you, Joshua. I love you so fucking much I only wish I could explain. I love you more than anything in the entire world. And I'm sorry for not see saying this earlier, when the moment was right, when you were in front of me. But I need you to know, Joshua. I love you."

It takes you a while to realize that you're crying but you're surprised to understand that the tears are not from any pain but from the huge relief you feel, how your heart feels lighter and how free and liberated you feel.

So you let the tears fall, crying your heart out because you are leaving your old self here, right at this moment. No matter what happens from now on, however Joshua treats you, you will remember this feeling and you will hold it dearest in your heart.

As you are in the middle of your crying session, you hear something akin to a door opening, somewhere far off so you don't open your eyes to check. But then you hear footsteps and some movement beside and as you open your eyes and look up, you see him.

Joshua's blank stare is the first thing that greets you as he keeps eyeing you with a straight face, no emotion whatsoever. Quickly you wipe away your tears in an attempt to look less pathetic— not that it helps and prepare yourself to be kicked to the curb.

Instead, he surprises you by holding out his hand. With wide eyes and like a deer stuck in headlights, you gape at him and then his hand, before you realize he's offering it to help you stand up. With a shaky hand, you reach for it and Joshua pulls you up from the cold ground and right into his warm chest.

The moment is something straight out of a movie as the force of his tug sends you crashing into his strong chest. For a moment, you hesitate but when you see he makes no attempt to push you away, you bury your face into his soft sweater. His arms wrap around your back, rubbing it up and down as he comments on how cold you are.

However, you can't bring yourself to care for anything else. This moment right here is your heaven and even though the thought that this may be the last time you get to feel his body next to you splits your heart open, you don't let it distract you. Instead, you inhale deeply into his chest and let his clean scent wash over you, ingraining it into the deepest part of your brain as you let your body go lax for a moment.

For the first time since being with him, you drop all your guards and simply let your bodies mold into one, uncaring of everything else and just feeling him, baring yourself to him. The only thing you hate is that it took you this long.

As you are having your moment, Joshua suddenly grabs below your ass and then as if you are a child, carries you inside his house, cradling your body next to his despite your protests.

"You need to warm up." He states, voice devoid of emotion as he drops you onto the living room sofa and heads towards the bedroom. From there, he returns with a fluffy white blanket and drapes it around your shoulders.

You can only look at him in wonder as he does so. When you expect him to sit down next to you, or maybe say something, he disappears into the kitchen, leaving your dumbfounded state alone.

What is he doing? Why is he ignoring everything you had spilled? Did he not hear it? Does he not care anymore? Or is this a nice way of kicking you out of his life forever?

Anxiously you chew on your lip, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. Joshua returns right then, holding a steaming mug in one hand which seems to be tea. His gesture tugs at your heartstrings and you have this urge to start crying once again.

"Drink." It's a command as he holds the mug in front of you. You oblige, reaching for the mug and taking a small, careful sip before cupping it with your arms to feel the warmth. Now that you are inside you realize just how cold you had been.

Joshua sits next to you and almost subconsciously, you scoot away a little, afraid to come in contact with him for some reason. If he notices, he says nothing but stares at you with an unreadable expression, one that you've never seen on him and it makes you worry.

What is he thinking?

Swallowing, you take another sip of the tea and then another hoping to hear something from him. But he stays silent and you realize your worst fear has come true. He's done with you. He is going to kick you out as soon as you are done drinking this tea.

So you try to save yourself from further embarrassment. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you shrug the blanket off your shoulders and start getting up. "Well then...I'll get go— "

You're immediately pulled back into the sofa by a strong arm. Joshua's eyes blaze with an emotion you've never seen before; fiery, accusatory, annoyed as he hisses. "What is wrong with you!"

His reaction confuses you. What does he mean?

"What?" You blink, perplexed. "I— I just thought that I should go home— "

"Will you stop overthinking for once? Did I ask you to leave?" This time you hear the hurt in his tone more than the anger and you immediately sew your lips shut. Joshua rakes a frustrated hand through his hair and exhales loudly. "God, _____...." He shakes his head, probably at a loss for words.

"I was gonna leave because you were not saying anything and I thought you didn't want me to stick around..." You mumble.

"God. I was letting you warm up and feel comfortable before I addressed the elephant in the room." He glares at you.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a part of you feels giddy. You've never seen Joshua angry before so this is a sight. And something tells you, you shouldn't poke him right now and just be quiet. You whisper. "Sorry."

Joshua sighs, his shoulders visibly slugging and he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. You have this urge to reach out to him and smooth out the lines of worry on his face.

"You're so... stubborn, ______." He murmurs, more to himself than you. "God...the least you could have done was listen to me instead of ditching me like that."

You wince at the memory. That, undoubtedly, was the stupidest decision you ever made. You're about to, once again, apologize but Joshua starts talking.

"_______." His eyes lock with yours. "You're such an amazing person and it is my fault for not making you realize it and letting you think so little of yourself."

You're opening your mouth to interrupt but he holds up his finger and begrudgingly, you stop. How can he say that?

"But now that you're here, I'll say something I've always wanted to say. You're the best thing that could have happened to me and I wish I could show you how much I mean it. I sometimes honestly have a hard time grasping the fact that you are real and you are in my life, ______. I've found myself attracted to you from the first day we met at the restaurant. You're different, you're intriguing. You've shielded your heart from the world yet you have this lively innocence surrounding you and it drew me in. Whenever I looked at you— even thought of you, I felt at peace and I felt better. I didn't realize I was lonely until you came along, ______. You make the dullest things interesting. You make my world so fucking colorful. You bring life to me and the thought of you leaving kills me."

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

You're crying. It's impossible to not cry after hearing those words, paired with the look in his eyes, the raw emotions shining in them. You have to stifle your sobs to let him speak and not end up wailing once again.

Gosh, you never knew you have so many tears.

One of Joshua's hands reaches out to wipe a trail of tear from your cheek. "I want you and everything that comes with you. Every tear, every pain, every scar, every little thing you have, I want it. I need it. I need you just as you are, ______. And I would do anything to protect you. I really hope you will start believing that."

You can't help it anymore. You're flinging yourself into his arms, ugly crying, fat tears rolling down your face as you try to literally bury yourself in his chest. "Oh, Joshua."

"Shh. It's okay. Gosh, you're such a crybaby." The tenderness in his voice laced with emotions, his soft stroking on your hair— it all makes you turn into mush for this man and you swear to yourself as long as you have life in your body, you will never ever hurt this man again nor let anybody hurt him.

"I love you too, _____. You were silly to think I'd never want to see you again." He whispers into your hair. You're moving to look up at him but he holds you tightly, keeping you in his arms as he continues speaking. "My heart broke when you left, I'm not going to lie. But I was mad at myself. I couldn't make you comfortable enough to— "

"Joshua, no." Your tone is adamant as you push against his chest and scowl at him. "Please, please don't say that. What I did today evening was a horrible decision on my part. You had nothing to do with it. As always, I let my intrusive thoughts win but it won't be happening from now on." Your hands reach forward to cup his cheek. "I love you. I've always loved you and I always will."

"I love you too." He gives you the softest of smiles and fireworks go off in your heart. You want to scream, cry and yell at the top of your lungs but you only manage to grin from ear to ear. Joshua mirrors it before leaning towards you, eyes going over to your lips.

Your breath stutters.

Softly, oh so slowly, he attaches his lips to yours while cupping both of your cheeks. Your hands move to clutch his biceps as you completely melt against his mouth, the familiar feel and taste of him soothing away all the pain from the last couple of hours.

Wanting more, you shift and move on top of his thighs, kissing him deeply and urgently. He reciprocates and soon it's a battle of teeth and tongue. When you both pull apart for air, Joshua has this flushed glow on his face, his eyes shining with so much love and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. If there was a jetpack attached to your heart it would take off to space right now.

"I'm so lucky to have you." You say thoughtlessly. He laughs softly at that but you're completely serious. "I can't believe you forgave me after what I did. I was such an asshole."

"No, you weren't." He frowns before tapping your temple. "You just said no more intrusive thoughts. So stop that."

Right.

You manage a sheepish smile as he once again engulfs you into his huge chest. You snuggle into him, getting comfortable and letting your mind simply drift. He holds you in silence, occasionally kissing your hair while he rubs your back softly. You feel yourself drifting off, the absolute comfort and safety of his arms making you sleepy. Not to mention you've had the most eventful evening of your life.

Just then, he speaks. "You're so cute. Falling asleep on me, sweets. But there's something you're forgetting."

"Hmm?"

"I think you deserve a punishment for what you did this evening."

The seductive growl in his voice suddenly removes all the sleep from your system and you're wide awake and anticipating. Your surprised, slightly excited gaze makes him smirk.

"I thought we're now past that daddy and baby relationship." You faux pout but he sees through your act. His eyes narrow. "So you don't want a punishment?"

"Hmm." You pretend to think. "Does it involve spanking?"

The cocky grin on his face is panty melting.

"And much more." It's a promise that lightens up your whole body.

"Lead the way, daddy." You whisper in his ear, making sure he feels your breath. Joshua groans, pushing you onto your back on the sofa. "Such a brat till the end." He smashes his lips against yours, stroking your tongue with his as he holds your hands above your head together. "Let's do something about that, hmm? What's your safeword, sweets?"

"Gentleman."

1 year later

It's the same place. The historic one where you ditched Joshua almost a year ago and ran like Cinderella.

It's surreal how quickly a year has passed. You've got your degree and started your job as a junior editor at a rising publishing company, all with Joshua by your side. Joshua has also become good friends with Kira and Naomi, showing up with you on hangouts every now and then. They're absolute fans of him, giving him undivided attention and spilling every embarrassing secret about you.

Kira also got engaged to Hoshi last month and as a congratulatory gift, Joshua got them tickets to the Maldives. You wanted to reprimand him for such an expensive gift but Kira's childish giddiness made you let him off easy.

Overall, life has been good. You've worked on yourself and now you're more accepting of everything that has been given to you. You have learned to focus more on the positive and let go of the negatives.

After that eventful night, your sister did call you but you didn't pick up and then she sent you messages giving all types of threats. She also dropped by your apartment when you weren't there so that was fortunate.

Not long after, you changed your number and after many requests from Joshua, you moved in with him. Now you've grown so accustomed to living with him that you don't know how you survived before.

Being back here, in this beautiful restaurant is quite exciting for you as you plan on doing the things you missed out on last time, like drinking the wine and eating the fancy food. The last time you were here definitely didn't go well but you're adamant about enjoying this night and replacing the bad memories with the good.

Joshua, however, has been stressed since he got in the car. You were the one to mention revisiting this restaurant and though he didn't deny your request, he definitely looks like he has PTSD, you now understand.

"Hey. I'm not walking out on you again." You reach for his hand over the table. He looks dashing, his dark hair pushed back, dressed in a pristine white shirt and dark grey suit and you can't wait to get home and take it all off.

His smile is a little nervous. "Sure." He mocks and you laugh. "If it makes you feel any better, you can walk out on me tonight. Do give me a moment to take off my heels though because I'll be chasing you."

That earns you a gentle laugh from him and you immediately feel better. If you ever got your hands on a time machine, you'd visit yourself that night and smack that bitch until she came to her senses. That'd be quite a scene.

Soon the waiter arrives and takes your orders before leaving you two to yourself once again. You take pictures of the beautiful place and the equally gorgeous night sky, before asking Joshua to take some photos of you.

"Joshua?" You call for him, thrice. The man seems to be lost somewhere else as he burns holes into the table. "Huh?" He blinks as you snap your fingers.

You sigh. "Shua, what's wrong? Is this about last time? I swear— "

"No! No, damn it." He says, a little too forcefully, making you concerned. What's wrong with him? Should you be getting worried? Is he... breaking up with you?

"Joshua?" Your voice suddenly becomes shaky. "Did I do something wrong? I— "

"Fuck. I can't wait anymore. Let's get this over with." He suddenly hisses and stands up, coming to stand by your chair. With alarmed eyes, you watch him, his face extremely serious, eyes focused but also a little nervous.

What on earth is the matter?

The next second, he drops onto one knee and your heart flies out of your chest, quite literally. You gasp and cover your mouth with both hands as he produces a little black box from his pocket and holds it open, revealing a beautiful, glittering diamond ring.

You're too stunned to speak.

"______." He breathes, eyes focused on you, his voice just a little shaky. "I love you. I fell in love with you the first day I saw you and I fall in love with you more and more every day. You're the sun of my world, my light in the dark and there is no life for me without you. So please, will you do the honor of marrying me and loving me forever?"

By now, hot tears are rolling down your face, probably ruinning your makeup but you just can't stop. You hiccup, trying to give him an answer but you can't. So you just nod your head aggressively and hold out your hand.

He gives you a fond smile and you can see the tears in his eyes shine as he puts the ring on your finger.

A perfect fit. Just like him.

"You didn't exactly say yes, you know." He teases as he stands up. You roll your eyes, wiping away the tears and pulling him closer by the lapels and kissing him deeply.

"Yes, Joshua. It's always a yes."

A/N 2: More than any other fic, your reviews and thoughts will be especially appreciated for this one as I've had a hard time finishing it due to writer's block and in general lack of motivation. But after doing so, I'm really happy and satisfied with the outcome. These characters are really dear to my heart so it would mean the world to me if you all left a little message. As always, thank you.

Taglist: @coupsiekkuma @haomullet @haven-cove @woozarts @fairiewonu @qy61 @lilactangerine @wheeinz @melocular @soonchanshua @chvngbin @kp0p10v3r2 @mommymilkers6000 @silent-potato23-blog @luv4cheol @namjoonslefttiddie @joshualvr @yangjeongincertifiedsimp @vernongyu @jeongiegram @hnsw04 @tfmingyu @thisuseriscravingdeath (forgive me if I've forgotten to tag someone 🙏)

#seventeen smut #joshua smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #joshua fluff #seventeen angst #svt angst

2K notes · View notes