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꒷꒦꒷ ; stelle ・❥・twenty three ・❥・she/they ・❥・aquarius ・❥・ dark trope luvr ・❥・monster fucker
꒷꒦꒷ ; i'll post as much as i can.
꒷꒦꒷ ; Scroll away if you do not like the au, genre, or details of the fic; this blog is dedicated to those who find comfort in chubby self-inserts. Majority of these will be Female or Gender-Neutral readers
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kinktober 2024
march munches
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Chicago in the spring was a liar. The calendar claimed winter was over, but the wind whipping between the glass towers downtown still carried enough bite to make people regret leaving their coats at home. The streets below were packed with commuters balancing coffee cups and briefcases, traffic crawling through the Loop beneath a sky painted in shades of pale gray.
Twenty floors above it all, the offices of Jeong & Partners were already alive. Assistants hurried through hallways carrying files. Junior associates practically sprinted toward conference rooms. Partners barked orders before most people had finished their first cup of coffee. And somewhere in the middle of the controlled chaos, you were running late. Again.
The elevator doors slid open and you stepped out, laptop tucked against your side, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. Your outfit was simple, professional, and entirely appropriate for one of Chicago’s most prestigious law firms. A fitted black turtleneck disappeared beneath the lapels of your coat while a tailored plaid skirt hugged your figure, paired with sheer black tights and heels that made navigating the city feel like a competitive sport. You barely looked up as you crossed the bullpen.
You had a deposition in three hours. A mountain of discovery documents on your desk. Three emails from a partner marked urgent. And absolutely no patience for anyone before your first coffee. Unfortunately for you, someone was already watching. From behind the glass walls of a corner office overlooking the city skyline, Yunho looked up from the contract spread across his desk the second you appeared. Like always. It was embarrassing at this point. Years later and he still did it. Every morning. Every damn time.
The moment you stepped onto the floor his attention automatically found you. His eyes followed your path through the office, taking in the familiar sight of you weaving around desks and associates with barely a glance in their direction. His jaw tightened slightly as the skirt moved with every confident step, forcing himself to look away before someone noticed him staring at your ass. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Because apparently seven years wasn’t enough time to get over a crush. Not law school. Not graduation. Not working together for almost three years. Nothing helped. If anything, seeing you every day only made it worse. Far worse.
A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts as his assistant stepped into the office. “Jeong, the Montgomery files.” Yunho looked down at the documents in front of him. “Thanks.” The assistant left and Yunho immediately looked back toward your office. Pathetic. Actually pathetic and he knew it. His father knew it. Half the damn firm probably knew it. Yet there he was. Still watching. Still hopeless. Still completely screwed. Then his mood darkened. Because Danny appeared. The new associate. Fresh out of Northwestern. Too eager. Too friendly. And unfortunately very interested in you.
Yunho watched as Danny crossed the floor carrying two coffees. One for himself and one for you. His jaw immediately clenched as Danny stopped outside your office just as you reached your desk. You looked up from your laptop and he flashed a smile, said something Yunho couldn’t hear. Then handed you the coffee and your smile appeared. And Yunho nearly snapped the pen in his hand. The worst part wasn’t even that Danny liked you. Everybody liked you. That wasn’t new. The problem was Danny had the confidence to actually do something about it. While Yunho had spent years pretending he wasn’t completely obsessed.
From your office, you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile and Danny laughed at something you said and you laughed back. And across the floor, Yunho looked one minor inconvenience away from committing several felonies. A moment later his office door opened and his father stepped inside carrying a folder. One glance out the glass wall was all it took and older man sighed. The sigh of a man who had watched this exact situation unfold for years. “Morning, son.” Yunho didn’t answer as his father followed his gaze. Saw Danny. Saw you. Saw the coffee. And immediately understood. “Still haven’t told her?”
Yunho’s eyes never left the scene outside. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
“Not a clue.”
His father nodded then placed the folder on the desk. “You know, most people simply ask someone out.” Yunho finally looked at him. “I’d rather jump off the roof.” His father laughed. “That’s probably easier than whatever it is you’re doing now.” Outside, Danny said something else that made you smile again and Yunho looked away immediately. Because for some reason, that smile had always been his biggest weakness. And unfortunately for him, you had absolutely no idea.
Yunho’s father didn’t look particularly sympathetic. In fact, the older man looked far too entertained for someone standing in the office of a man currently contemplating murder. Outside the glass walls, Danny was still lingering beside your desk, leaning casually against the doorway while you sorted through emails. Whatever he was saying earned yet another laugh from you and Yunho’s eye twitched.
“You’re glaring.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re glaring while working.”
“I’m multitasking.”
His father snorted. “Very professional.” Yunho finally dragged his attention back toward the folder sitting on his desk. “What do you need?” The smile his father gave him instantly made him suspicious. Twenty seven years old and it still worked. Every time that smile appeared, it meant trouble. His father slid a folder across the desk. “New case.” Yunho opened it and froze.
First came confusion. Then disbelief. Then something dangerously close to hope. His father watched every emotion happen in real time.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
Yunho flipped through the first few pages. Major client. Corporate litigation. Huge account. Millions at stake. The kind of case that could make careers. His eyes landed on the staffing page then stopped. Because directly beneath his own name was yours and for a second he forgot how to breathe as his father folded his arms. “Surprise.” Yunho read it again. Then again just to make sure. Still there. Your name. Partnered with him. For months. Potentially longer. Depositions. Strategy meetings. Client dinners. Travel. Late nights. Court appearances. The entire package.
Slowly, his father sat down across from the desk. “Happy?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Yunho tossed the folder onto his desk and his father grinned. “You two will be leading it together.” Yunho groaned, putting up that front of his. Denial. False annoyance. “Why?”
“Because you’re my two best associates.”
Yunho immediately narrowed his eyes. “That sounds fake.”
“It’s not.”
“It sounds fake.”
His father laughed. “It is a little fake.” Yunho rolled his eyes. “There it is.” The older man leaned back in his chair. “The client requested our strongest team.”
“And?”
“And unfortunately the two of you are extremely good together.”
Yunho hated that. Not because it wasn’t true. Because it was. You fought constantly. Argued over strategy. Disagreed on nearly everything. But somehow every case the two of you touched ended in a win. The entire firm knew it. Which only made it worse. His father studied him for a moment then sighed. “You know this is probably healthy.” Yunho already hated where this conversation was heading. “Healthy?”
“Yes.”
“Working sixty hour weeks is healthy?”
“No.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
His father pointed toward the bullpen. Toward you. “The time together.” Yunho immediately looked away. “Absolutely not.”
“The kind of time where you’re not obsessing over her from behind glass.” Outside, a group of associates walked past your office while Yunho stared at his father like he’d just committed a crime but the older man just continued. “Maybe you’ll actually have a conversation.”
“I talk to her.”
“You argue with her.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.”
Yunho rubbed a hand over his face. His father was enjoying this far too much. “You’re being dramatic.” His father nearly choked laughing. “Me?”
“Yes.”
The older man pointed at the floor to ceiling windows. “Son, you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching her drink coffee.”
“That’s not true.”
“You literally stopped listening when she smiled.” Yunho opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it again. Then gave up. Because unfortunately that was exactly what had happened and his father looked positively delighted. “Seven years.”
“Stop.”
“Seven.”
“Please stop.”
“Years.”
Yunho groaned as his father stood and straightened his jacket. “You know, normal people would’ve asked her out by now.”
“I’m not normal.”
“Clearly.” His father moved toward the door then paused and gave one last glance over his shoulder. One final bullet to the head. “Try not to scare her off.” The door closed behind him and Yunho stared at it. Then immediately looked across the office floor straight toward your office. As if sensing it, you looked up and your eyes met through the glass. And for a brief second. One tiny second. Before you rolled your eyes and went back to work….. Yunho felt something in his chest do a complete backflip. Then Danny reappeared carrying another stack of files and just like that, his mood was ruined again.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The rest of the morning passed exactly how most mornings at Jeong & Partners passed. Chaotically. Emails. Phone calls. Research requests. Partners demanding updates. Clients demanding miracles. By noon, you had almost forgotten about the conversation you’d overheard between two associates discussing some major litigation assignment being announced later that week. Almost. Unfortunately, one particular blond attorney seemed determined to make sure you didn’t forget.
Across the floor, Yunho had spent the better part of the last three hours pretending to work. The keyword being pretending. Because every time he looked up from his desk, he could see your office. Every time he glanced through the glass walls, there you were. Typing. Reading. Arguing with opposing counsel over the phone. Running a hand through your hair when frustrated. And every single time, he had to force himself to focus on something else. The problem was now he knew. Now he knew you’d be working together. Months. Possibly longer. Which meant his already fragile self control was hanging on by a thread. And the worst part? He was excited.
Which was exactly why he needed to be an asshole. The asshole persona was safe. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally confess he’d been in love with you since constitutional law. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally admit he remembered what color dress you’d worn to graduation. So the asshole persona stayed and by lunchtime, you were gathering your things. Your laptop disappeared into your bag. You grabbed your phone. A few files. Your wallet. And finally stood from your desk. But the second you stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice appeared like a curse. “Going somewhere?”
You stopped walking and closed your eyes. Counted to three then turned. Yunho stood a few feet away looking irritatingly perfect as usual. The charcoal three piece suit fit him like it had been stitched directly onto his body. His tie had disappeared sometime during the morning, the top button of his white dress shirt undone. The silver blond hair he’d been bleaching for as long as you’d known him fell across his forehead in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous. Instead, annoyingly, it worked. You hated that it worked. You hated that your brain occasionally noticed things like that. Mostly because it was easier to be irritated by him when he wasn’t walking around looking like the human embodiment of an expensive magazine ad of your exact type. “What do you want?”
His mouth immediately twitched. “You know,” he said casually, sliding one hand into his pocket, “most people start conversations with hello.”
“Most people aren’t you.”
“Ouch.”
“Tragic.”
Yunho looked positively delighted and you hated that too. Then again, he always seemed happiest when annoying you. Which honestly said a lot about his mental stability. “So,” he said.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“I know enough.”
His grin widened. God, you wanted to throw something at him. “Did you hear the news?” You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. “What news?” For a brief moment something flashed through his expression. Excitement. Then it disappeared beneath the usual cocky smile as Yunho pulled a folder from under his arm and held it out making you frown as you took it and opened it. And immediately froze. Your name. His name. The case assignment. The same realization hit you that had hit him hours earlier. “Oh no.” Yunho laughed. The bastard. “Oh yes.” You looked up. Then back at the paperwork. Then back at him. “No.”
“Afraid so.”
“There has to be a mistake.”
“There isn’t.”
“Your father hates me.”
“My father loves you.” You blinked and Yunho blinked. And for one horrifying second neither of you moved. Then he recovered. Far faster than you did. “Professionally,” he added quickly and your eyes narrowed. “Right.”
“Obviously.”
Neither of you seemed entirely convinced as Yunho cleared his throat. Then leaned slightly closer. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough to be annoying. His favorite distance. The distance that made you aware of him. Made you notice things. Like the expensive cologne. Or the sharp line of his jaw. Or the fact that his eyes always seemed to be looking directly through people. Except when he looked at you. Then they felt entirely too focused. Entirely too attentive. And entirely too dangerous.
His grin returned. Slow and cocky and infuriating. “Looks like you’re mine for the next few months, sweetheart.” You stared at him as you slowly closed the folder and smiled. The kind of smile that made junior associates run. “Oh, Jeong.” Yunho’s stomach immediately dropped. Because that tone never meant anything good. And he hated how it made his dick twitch. “What?” You stepped forward. Close enough to pat his shoulder. Close enough to watch his stupid confident smile falter slightly. “If you call me sweetheart one more time…” Yunho looked amused as you smiled wider. “I’m going to make sure every minute of this case feels like a personal attack.”
For a second silence hung between you. Then Yunho laughed. A real laugh. Low. Warm. Entirely too attractive. And to your absolute horror, the man looked thrilled. Like you’d just promised him a vacation instead of a threat. “Can’t wait, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and walked away toward the elevators and behind you, Yunho watched you go. Watched until the elevator doors closed. Watched until you disappeared completely. Then let out a slow breath. Because working with you every day for months was either going to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Or the thing that finally killed him. And honestly? He wasn’t sure which outcome was more likely.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time you returned from lunch, your irritation had somehow gotten worse. Which was impressive. You’d spent nearly forty minutes convincing yourself you were overreacting. Convincing yourself that being assigned to a case with Yunho wasn’t the end of the world. That you were both professionals. That you’d survived law school together. That you’d survived three years working in the same building. You could survive one case. Then you’d walked back into the office and the first thing you’d seen was Yunho leaning against someone’s desk laughing about something. The second thing you’d seen was him noticing you. The third thing was that stupid grin appearing immediately. And suddenly all your progress had disappeared.
Now you stood outside the managing partner’s office. Mr. Jeong’s office. The largest office in the building. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked downtown Chicago while shelves lined with legal awards and framed photographs occupied nearly every wall. Most people were intimidated walking in here. You weren’t. Mostly because you’d known the man for years. The door was already open and Mr. Jeong looked up from a stack of documents when you appeared and a smile immediately pulled at his mouth that looked too much like his son’s. Which should have been your first warning. “Ah.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ‘ah’ me.” His smile grew. Definitely a warning sign. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”
“You put me on a case with your son.”
“Yes.”
“No explanation?”
“No.”
You stared and he stared back completely unbothered as you dropped into the chair across from his desk. “Why?” The older attorney set down his pen. “Because you’re both excellent attorneys.”
“That’s the official answer?”
“It is.”
“I want the real answer.”
His eyes sparkled and you immediately regretted asking as Mr. Jeong leaned back in his chair. “You know, when you ask a question like that, it makes it sound like working with Yunho is some terrible punishment.”
“It is.”
The man laughed. “That’s harsh.”
“You raised him.”
“I tried my best.”
“You failed.”
“I know.” Another laugh and honestly, it was annoying how much amusement he got from this. You crossed your arms. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Mr. Jeong.”
He sighed dramatically. Then folded his hands on his desk. “The truth?”
“Yes.”
“You two are the best litigators I have.”
You opened your mouth but he raised a finger. “And before you argue, let me finish.” You immediately closed it. Mostly because he was giving you the same look he gave witnesses right before destroying their credibility. “The two of you disagree on everything.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you work.” You frowned as he continued. “Yunho sees details nobody else sees.” You hated how true that was. “You see angles nobody else sees.” Unfortunately also true. “You challenge each other.” You rolled your eyes. “We annoy each other.”
“That too.” The older man smiled. “But every single time I put the two of you in the same room, the work gets better.” You couldn’t immediately argue. Which was irritating and Mr. Jeong noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything. “You know what your biggest problem is?”
“I have several.”
“You assume things about my son.” The sudden shift caught you off guard. “What?”
“You assume you already know who he is.”
You leaned back. “And I don’t?”
“No.” The answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Without doubt. And for some reason that bothered you. Mr. Jeong glanced toward the windows. Toward the city beyond them. “He works harder than anyone in this building.” You opened your mouth but he raised a hand again. “I know exactly what people say. Founder’s son.” His voice was calm. “Nepo hire.” Your expression shifted slightly. “Everything handed to him.” The older man smiled. A sadder smile this time. “They’ve been saying it since he first started law school.” Something uncomfortable settled in your stomach. Because if there was one thing you knew about Yunho… he never defended himself. Ever. He’d make a joke. Deflect. Smile. Move on. But he’d never actually defend himself.
Mr. Jeong looked back at you. “The reason I’m putting you together is because I trust both of you.” You nodded slowly. That answer at least felt genuine. Then the older attorney ruined it. “I also think it’ll be entertaining.” You groaned. “Seriously?”
“Very.” The man grinned again. “You should’ve seen his face when I told him.” Your eyes narrowed as Mr. Jeong looked entirely too pleased with himself. “What face?” His grin widened. “The kind that suggested he was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t happy.” Now you looked suspicious. “Happy?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Why?”
The older man suddenly became fascinated by a document sitting on his desk. “Oh, who knows.”
“Mr. Jeong.”
“No idea.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
“It never does.”
You stared at each other. And the older man looked remarkably smug as you stood. Because you weren’t getting anything useful out of him. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. Then his voice stopped you. “Give him a chance, Y/N.” You paused as Mr. Jeong’s expression had softened. Only a little. But enough. “A chance to what?” His smile returned. Smaller this time. “To genuinely surprise you.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you walked out. But for the rest of the afternoon, as annoying as it was, you couldn’t quite get those words out of your head.
Because for the first time in years, a tiny part of you wondered if maybe there was more to Yunho than the arrogant smartass who spent half his life trying to get under your skin. Unfortunately, that thought lasted exactly seven minutes. Because the moment you got back to your office, there was a sticky note on your monitor in familiar handwriting.
Don’t forget our strategy meeting after hours tonight, sweetheart. ❤️
You stared at it long and hard. Then immediately started plotting his murder.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By five thirty, the office had settled into its usual evening rhythm. Some associates were packing up and heading home. Others were just beginning the second half of their day. The litigation department lived on caffeine, spite, and impossible deadlines, and today was no different. You had spent the last two hours buried beneath discovery documents, deposition transcripts, and a growing headache that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a migraine. Which was why you eventually abandoned your office in search of salvation. Specifically, a Red Bull.
The break room was mercifully empty when you walked in. At least for the first ten seconds. You opened the refrigerator. Found the can you’d stashed there that morning and immediately heard a familiar voice behind you. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner.” You glanced over your shoulder. Danny. Of course. He stood in the doorway carrying a stack of files under one arm. His tie was loosened and his sleeves were rolled up. The picture of an overworked attorney trying very hard to impress someone. Namely you.
“It has vitamins.”
Danny laughed. “That’s not how vitamins work.”
“It is when you’re desperate.”
“You know, normal people eat food.”
You cracked the can open. “Normal people aren’t handling four cases and a psychotic partner.”
“Fair point.”
The two of you fell into easy conversation while you leaned against the counter sipping your drink. Danny was nice. Maybe a little eager. Maybe a little obvious. But nice. The kind of guy who remembered birthdays and probably called his mother every Sunday. Unfortunately for him, he had made the mistake of developing a crush on someone who worked directly across the hall from Yunho. A mistake Yunho was becoming increasingly aware of. Because at that exact moment, Yunho stepped into the break room and stopped.
The sight before him made something unpleasant settle in his chest. You standing beside the counter. Red Bull in hand. Skirt riding up a little. Laughing. And Danny standing entirely too close. Smiling entirely too much. Looking entirely too interested. For a moment, Yunho considered turning around. Walking away. Being mature. Then Danny reached over and brushed something off your sleeve and suddenly maturity became significantly less appealing.
“Well.”
Both you and Danny turned as Yunho stood in the doorway. One hand tucked into his pocket. Expression casual. The kind of casual that usually meant trouble and you immediately sighed. “No.”
“No what?”
“No whatever you’re about to do.”
His smile widened as Danny looked between the two of you. Confused. Concerned. Possibly afraid. Smart man. Yunho ignored him completely. Instead he walked directly toward the coffee machine. “You know,” he said, “I was wondering why productivity suddenly dropped on this floor.”
Danny blinked. “What?”
Yunho pressed a button on the machine. “Oh, nothing.” The machine whirred as you narrowed your eyes. Because you knew that tone. “So what was the cause?” Danny asked and Yunho looked over his shoulder. Smiling. “Apparently extended social visits during work hours.”
You nearly laughed despite yourself. Danny looked offended. “I was grabbing files.”
“Mm.”
“I was.”
“Of course.”
Danny frowned again. “You got a problem?” Dangerous question. Very dangerous question. Because Yunho’s smile never slipped. Not even slightly. “I don’t think I said I did.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied many things.”
Danny’s jaw tightened as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Because this was exactly what you didn’t need. Two men posturing in the break room like they were in a nature documentary. Somewhere a narrator was probably explaining mating rituals as Yunho finally turned around. Coffee in hand. Expression pleasant. Far too fucking pleasant. “How long have you worked here now, Danny?” The younger associate frowned. “Four months.”
“Interesting.”
Danny looked even more confused. “What is?”
Yunho took a sip. “The confidence.”
You closed your eyes. There it is. There was the antagonizing. Subtle enough that nobody could technically accuse him of anything. But sharp enough to draw blood. Danny folded his arms. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Yunho grinned. God, he was annoying when he grinned like that because he looked even more attractive. “It means four months is impressive.” Danny stared. You stared. Even Yunho seemed amused by his own answer. “You’re impossible,” you muttered and immediately his eyes found yours. And just like that, all his attention shifted. The irritation. The jealousy. The possessiveness he’d been fighting all afternoon. Hidden again. Buried beneath that infuriating grin. “You say the sweetest things.”
You rolled your eyes as Danny looked between the two of you. Then realization slowly crossed his face. Not complete realization. But enough. Enough to notice something was off. Enough to notice that Yunho watched you differently. Enough to notice that Yunho had entered the room focused entirely on him and somehow ended up focused entirely on you. Yunho noticed the realization too. Which was exactly why he smiled even wider. A warning disguised as amusement. Danny wasn’t stupid. “Right,” Danny said awkwardly, gathering his files. “I’ve got to finish those motions.”
“Good luck,” Yunho said as he left and silence settled over the room as you slowly turned toward Yunho. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“I really don’t.”
“Liar.”
Yunho leaned against the counter beside you. Close enough to annoy you. Far enough to remain technically innocent. His favorite game. “I was getting coffee.”
“You were antagonizing Danny.”
“He seems sensitive.”
Yunho took another sip of his coffee as you took another sip of your Red Bull. The silence between you wasn’t comfortable. It never was. Not because it was awkward. Because it always felt like something was happening beneath it. Some current neither of you acknowledged. Some invisible tug of war that had existed for years. You were glaring at him and Yunho seemed entirely unbothered by that fact.
“What?” you asked.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
His mouth twitched. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Maybe you’re just distracting.”
You groaned immediately. “There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The world’s most annoying attorney.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
You rolled your eyes. A habit he was personally responsible for. For a moment neither of you moved. Then Yunho’s expression shifted slightly. Not enough that most people would’ve noticed. But you knew him. You’d known him for years. You knew when he was about to say something annoying. You knew when he was about to start a fight. You knew when he was about to push your buttons just because he could. And right now? Something else flickered behind his eyes. Something sharper.
His gaze drifted toward the door Danny had disappeared through. Then back to you. “You know he’s wants to fuck you, right?” You nearly choked on your drink. “Jesus fucking Christ Yunho.” The room felt smaller all of a sudden. The air heavier. Like something had shifted. You could feel it as Yunho pushed away from the counter and took a step closer and you took another drink from your Red Bull. Mostly to give yourself something to do. Yunho’s coffee had long been forgotten. It sat abandoned on the counter while he leaned against it beside you.
His gaze drifted over your face before he suddenly asked, “What happened to Kevin?” You blinked, furrowing your brows. The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”
“Kevin.” He shrugged. “The boyfriend. Haven’t seen him come by in a while.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you know his name?” Yunho immediately realized his mistake. Because he absolutely shouldn’t know his name. Not with the confidence he’d just said it. Not unless he’d been paying attention. A lot of attention. Which unfortunately he had. For years. His recovery came quickly. “He picked you up from work like fifty times.” That was fair. Kevin had practically lived in the firm’s lobby for a year. “Why?” Yunho looked down at his coffee. Acting casual. “No reason.”
“He’s gone.”
Something sharp flickered behind Yunho’s eyes at your answer. Gone. As in gone gone. “When?”
“Months ago.” That got his attention. “Months?” You nodded. “Five.” Yunho stared at you. Five months. You’d been single for five months. And somehow he was only finding out now. For a brief moment he wondered if he’d actually died and nobody told him. Then he remembered he was supposed to be acting normal. So instead he asked, “What happened?”
You sighed. The kind of sigh that carried old irritation. “He cheated.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. Not because he was surprised. He wasn’t. He’d known. Hell, he’d been the one who made sure you found out. An anonymous email. Photos attached. No name. No explanation. Just evidence. Enough evidence that Kevin never had a chance of talking his way out of it. To this day you had no idea who sent it and Yunho intended to keep it that way. “He cheated,” you repeated, shaking your head. “A year and a half together and apparently that wasn’t enough.”
Yunho looked away. Because if he looked directly at you right now he was going to say something reckless. Something honest. And honesty around you had always been dangerous. “You have terrible taste in men.” The words slipped out before he could stop them and you laughed. A genuine laugh. The first one he’d heard from you in a long time. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
“I’m serious.”
“You think every guy is terrible.”
“No.”
You tilted your head. “No?”
Yunho looked back at you slowly. And something in his expression started shifting. Softening. Dangerously. “No,” he said quietly. “Just the ones you date.” The laugh died in your throat and neither of you moved as Yunho’s gaze dropped briefly. Just for a second. Taking in the skirt you’d worn that morning again. The one he’d been trying not to notice all day. Then his eyes lifted back to yours. “You settle.”
Your eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“You settle.” His voice remained calm. “You keep picking men who don’t deserve you.” For once there wasn’t a joke attached. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. And somehow that was far more dangerous than any of his usual flirting. He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. Almost disbelieving. As if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “You know what the problem is?”
“What?”
His smile returned. Smaller this time. Less cocky and more personal. “The second someone gets your attention they stop trying.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Yunho looked away briefly. Because he knew exactly what it meant. It meant he couldn’t imagine taking you for granted. Couldn’t imagine looking elsewhere. Couldn’t imagine spending years wanting someone only to risk losing them. When he looked back at you, his gaze had darkened, something settling there you couldn’t quite decipher just yet. “If I had you in my bed every night….” He leaned down, moving closer until his mouth was right at your ear. “no other woman would exist to me.”
It’s like your brain just stopped computing. His words slammed into you like a truck and you had no idea how to respond to that. Especially when the feel of his lips just barely brushing your ear still lingered as a cough cleared from the doorway. Yunho backed away from you casually. Like he hadn’t almost had you pinned to the counter. Mr. Jeong stood in the doorway, his gaze going back and forth. First you. Then his son. Then back again with a hint of amusement. “Am I interrupting something.”
“Not at all.” Yunho picked his coffee back up. “I was just asking Y/N if she’s coming to my place tonight so we can start briefing and going over our new case.” He looked way too smug. “Excuse me?” You broke out of your daze quickly, glaring at him. “I am not going over alone to your place. We can go to my place. My roommate will be home but he shouldn’t bother us.” Roommate. Yunho knew exactly who you were talking about. Wooyoung. Yunho had seen him visiting you a few different times back in law school. He also brought you lunch sometimes now. Always had thick eyeliner. Tattoos. A wicked little smirk he liked to throw at anyone who piqued interest.
“Sounds like a plan.” Yunho grinned again and his father gave you both one last look before walking away. You groaned. Last thing you needed was to be alone or semi alone with Yunho outside of work.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
“I need you to stay home tonight.” You were practically begging into your phone. Wooyoung snorted obviously intrigued and confused. “And here I was planning to get my back blown out tonight.”
“Woo, I’m serious.” You hissed and looked up catching Yunho in his office through the glass wall. He noticed you and smirked and had the audacity to wave at you. “Look…. I have this new case. It’s a big one and…..” You paused. Hesitated. “I have to… I have to do it with Yunho.” The silence on the other end of the call was deafening for one second. Two. Three. Four. “OH MY GOD!” Wooyoung laughed, actually cackled. “You’re kidding me. You’ve wanted to climb that man like a tree since law school.”
“I HAVE NOT.” You didn’t mean to yell. One of the newer attorneys passing by your office jumped at your outburst which to your luck also caught Yunho’s attention. “I have not.” You repeated much lower this time and you could practically hear Wooyoung roll his through the phone. “Please.” He scoffed. “You told me yourself that you and I quote, want to choke him with that annoying tie and make him beg for it.”
You gasped. “I was drunk.” You hissed. It was on Wooyoung’s birthday. Right after you left your ex. Turns out all your dirty little secrets weren’t so secret with tequila in your system. “Drunk words are true thoughts or whatever.” Wooyoung said and you just know he was grinning. “I hate him!” You snapped which at this point wasn’t true at all. He annoyed you most the time. Made you question whether you wanted to slam his face into a wall or drop to your knees. And after Mr. Jeong told you to give his son a chance…. No. Absolutely not.
“If you hate him that just means the sex will be amazing.” Wooyoung was enjoying this way too much. “There will be no sex.” You immediately regretted saying that because of course. Of course! The devil himself was leaning in your office doorway, brow raised looking far too amused at whatever parts of the conversation he was picking up. “Just be home.” You told Wooyoung before ending the call and clearing your throat. “What do you want? Other than eavesdropping.”
Yunho let out a laugh under his breath and that sound immediately made you suspicious. “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Nothing.” He shrugged but he was smiling too smugly for your liking. “You’re smiling.”
“Am I?”
“You are literally smiling.”
His grin only widened. Which meant he was absolutely about to be annoying. Wonderful. Fan fucking tastic. You crossed your arms. “Spit it out, Jeong.” Yunho tilted his head slightly, that damned silver blonde hair falling across his forehead as his gaze flicked briefly toward your phone before returning to you. “Well,” he said casually, “I just found one part of that conversation particularly interesting.”
Your stomach dropped and you muttered under your breath. You were going to kill Wooyoung. And Yunho. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” His smile sharpened. “The part where you informed whoever that was that there would be no sex.” Heat immediately flooded your face. “Jesus Fucking Christ Yunho.” You were starting to wish you got paid for every time he got that out of you.
“So there was sex on the table at some point?”
“There was never sex on the table.”
“Interesting wording.”
“Yunho.”
“Just asking questions.”
“You are a lawyer. You get paid to twist words.”
“True.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Still doesn’t answer my question.” You stared at him, eye twitching and he just stared right back. Completely shameless. And the worst part? He looked unfairly good doing it. You hated that your brain insisted on being horny every time he was around. You pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
Yunho laughed. A real one. Warm and Low. And unfortunately dangerously attractive. “See, now I’m curious.”
“You should be billing hours.”
“I am billing hours.”
“You are standing in my office harassing me.”
“Multitasking.”
“That isn’t how billing works.”
“It is when you’re talented.”
You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a threat and Yunho’s grin somehow widened further. Then, unfortunately, his gaze drifted lower. Only for a second once again. But you caught it. The way his eyes flicked over the way your skirt rode up from sitting and your pulse did something stupid.
“So,” he said.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know enough.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an impressive amount of energy thinking about me.”You nearly choked. “Excuse me?” You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Immediately. Right now. “I’m just wondering…..” You immediately cut him off. “About what?” His gaze held yours. “Whether you’ve really hated me all these years.” The question caught you off guard. And for a moment the office felt quieter. The sounds of phones ringing and conversations outside seeming farther away. You looked away first. A big mistake on your part. Because Yunho noticed everything. He always had. A slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “There it is.”
“There what is?” You snapped.
“You didn’t answer.”
You hated that he was right. You hated it even more because you weren’t entirely sure what the answer was anymore as Yunho pushed away from the doorway. “See you at your place.” He turned to walk back to his office. The two of you only had an hour before you got off. “You don’t even know where I live.” You called after him and Yunho didn’t even glance back as he answered.
“Don’t I.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The entire drive home was torture. Not because of traffic. Not because downtown Chicago was a nightmare at six o’clock. But because every single red light gave your brain more time to replay the conversation and how Yunho asked whether you’ve really hated him all these years. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
Seven years of knowing Yunho Jeong and somehow that stupid question had managed to lodge itself directly inside your skull. You’d spent years calling him arrogant. Annoying. Insufferable. None of those things were technically lies. But lately… things felt different. And you hated that.
By the time you pulled into the parking garage beneath your apartment building,you had a headache. Perfect. Exactly what you needed before spending an entire evening trapped with Yunho. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and headed upstairs and the second you stepped through the apartment door, the smell hit you. Pizza. You closed your eyes. Thank God.
“Kitchen.” Wooyoung’s voice carried through the apartment as you kicked off your heels near the door and followed it. Sure enough, Wooyoung was leaning against the kitchen island wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a slice of pepperoni in one hand while two pizza boxes sat open on the counter. His eyes immediately found you and narrowed. “Oh.”
You froze. “What?”
Wooyoung pointed his pizza at you. “You’re spiraling.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
You dropped your bag onto one of the stools. “I’m fine.” Wooyoung laughed as he took a bite. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You walked into this apartment like someone just told you the IRS was outside.”
You glared at him as Wooyoung took another bite. Still staring. Still judging. Still entirely too observant for your liking. Then his eyes widened like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh my God.” You immediately regretted everything. “What now?”
“You really do want him.”
“No.”
“YOU DO.”
“I DON’T.”
Wooyoung practically slapped the counter. “You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You literally sound twelve.”
You grabbed a paper plate. “I’m getting pizza.” Wooyoung gasped at you. “You are avoiding the conversation.” You shook your head as you grabbed two slices. “I’m hungry.” You shoved a slice into your mouth as Wooyoung folded his arms then smirked. A dangerous smirk. The kind that usually meant somebody’s life was about to become significantly more difficult. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
You sighed dramatically. Because unfortunately something had happened. Not a big thing. Not really. Just enough things. Enough tiny moments. Enough comments. Enough looks. Enough questions. Enough of Yunho being… Yunho. And now your brain refused to shut up about it. Refused to forget the way his lips felt grazing your ear…. Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed further. “What did he say?” You stared at your pizza. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Because now Wooyoung looked genuinely interested. “Oh, this is serious.”
You chewed at your pizza, hesitant before swallowing. “He told me… he told me if he…” you could still hear the way his voice had dropped when he said it. “If he had me in bed every night then… no other woman would exist to him.” The silence was loud because Wooyoung was never silent and somehow now…. he was speechless. You watched him blink. Once. Twice. Then he slowly set his pizza down on the counter. “Oh.”
You hated that response. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Woo.”
“Nothing.”
“Wooyoung.”
His eyes snapped back to yours. “Y/N.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He grinned. “Because I think I just witnessed the moment your life became a romantic comedy. A very hot romantic comedy.” You groaned. “Oh my God. Shut up.”
“No, seriously.” He pointed at you. “Do you have any idea how insane that is. He was flirting. Practically throwing himself at you.” You shook your head in complete denial. “He was not.”
“Yes he was.”
“No he wasn’t.”
Wooyoung stared at you a second before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” You groaned. “What now?” He rolled his eyes in pure exasperation. “You really don’t see it.” Your brows furrowed, your voice muffled around the bite of pizza. “See what?”
“The fact that Yunho Jeong has been down catastrophically bad for you since law school.”
You choked a little and pointed your pizza at him. “Don’t say that.”
“Make me.”
“You are impossible.”
“Again,” Wooyoung said, “he practically through himself at you.”
“He did not.”
“Y/N.”
“He did not.”
“Y/N.”
You groaned loudly. Because the problem wasn’t that Wooyoung was wrong. The problem was that for the first time… you weren’t entirely convinced he was. Your gaze drifted toward the clock on the microwave. Yunho would be here soon. And suddenly the thought of being alone with him felt very different than it had this earlier. Dangerously different.
You quickly finished eating your pizza and didn’t even glance at Wooyoung as you headed towards the bathroom. “I’m getting a shower before Satan gets here.” The bathroom door slammed shut behind you. Your clothes came off achingly slow. You sat your phone on the sink counter, letting music play to try and clear your head. Steam poured into the room as the water rushed out the shower head. Scolding and too hot. You adjusted it and stepped in letting the water try and fail to wash away your spiraling thoughts.
“He was not throwing himself at me.” You didn’t believe yourself anymore though. Because in the comfort of the shower you started to think. How in law school Yunho would always been standing outside your civil procedure class and would finally go in once you showed up. How he once brought handed you coffee on graduation day because he happened to have an extra but it tasted like your favorite. How he mentioned his dad’s law firm had an opening and you thought he was trying to annoy you and then next day you got a call from Mr. Jeong himself…..
“Oh my god…” you stopped washing your hair as the realization slammed into you. “he was throwing himself at me.” Holy shit. It should have been obvious. Your heart was pounding now because Yunho on his way over. You were both about to spend insane amounts of time together in the near future for this case. And he likes you. “Fuck!” You almost slipped, your hand shooting out your grab at the shower curtain.
What were you supposed to do? What if you were crazy? Imagining it? What if Wooyoung had gotten inside your head? But even as the thoughts came, they felt weaker. Less convincing. Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore. The truth was that this wasn’t just physical anymore. Wasn’t just finding him attractive. Wasn’t just noticing the way his suits fit. Or the way his hair fell into his eyes. Or the way his voice always seemed lower when he spoke directly to you.
Somewhere along the way, something had changed. Something dangerous. Something that made your pulse race every time he looked at you too long. Something that made the thought of him showing up at your front door feel terrifying and exciting all at once.
You closed your eyes. And finally admitted the thing you’d been avoiding for years. “Shit.” Because the problem wasn’t that Yunho liked you. The problem was that you liked him too. Because now every want and needy thought you’ve ever had about him shifted from just physical attraction to something else. Something crazy. Completely and totally insane. “Oh my god.” You wanted him too and that realization refused to leave.
Even after you finished washing your hair. Even after you stood beneath the spray for another five minutes pretending your life hadn’t just completely unraveled. By the time you finally shut the water off, your fingers were wrinkled and your thoughts were somehow worse. “Great.” You grabbed a towel. “Fantastic.” You wrapped another towel around your hair as you stepped out of the shower. “Wonderful.” The mirror was fogged over completely. Which was probably for the best. You didn’t need to see the expression on your own face right now.
Because apparently after seven years of arguing with Yunho, you had finally realized you had feelings for him. Feelings. Actual feelings. You wanted to throw yourself out a window. But unfortunately you lived on the eighteenth floor. You tightened the towel around yourself and stormed toward the door. This was Wooyoung’s fault. Entirely his fault. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, you’d still be blissfully ignorant. Or trying to be anyways.
The second the bathroom door opened, you were already talking. “This is your fault.” You marched into the hallway. “You couldn’t just mind your own business for once in your life.” The living room came into view. “And now I have to spend the entire evening pretending I don’t have feelings for….” You screamed. The kind of scream usually reserved for horror movies and home invasions. Because Yunho was sitting on your couch now looking equally startled for approximately half a second before he started laughing.
“Oh my God!” Your hand flew to your chest, gripping your towel. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Across the room, Wooyoung was absolutely useless. In fact, he looked delighted. “There she is!” You glared at your best friend before your gaze snapped back toward Yunho. Which was a mistake. A huge mistake. Because somehow seeing him outside the office felt different. The charcoal suit jacket was gone. Tossed over the back of the couch. His tie hung loose around his neck. The top button of his white dress shirt had disappeared. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. And somehow that looked more intimate than if he’d shown up wearing nothing but sweatpants.
You hated that thought immediately as Yunho’s eyes flicked over you, dragging down and staring at where the fluffy pink towel you had ended just barely covering anything. Then he looked directly at the ceiling and a muscle jumped in his jaw. And of course Wooyoung noticed. The bastard looked like Christmas had come early. “You know,” Wooyoung said casually, “most people greet guests when they arrive.”
“I was in the shower!”
“Clearly.”
You groaned. Because somehow this day had gone from bad to catastrophic. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? You’d just spent twenty minutes realizing you had feelings for Yunho. Then immediately walked into your living room wearing nothing but a towel. Wooyoung looked between the two of you grinning as you backed toward the hallway, tightening your grip on the towel again. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Probably for the best,” Wooyoung agreed and you glared at him. Then at Yunho. Then immediately regretted looking at Yunho because he was already looking at you. “Five minutes,” you muttered before disappearing down the hall and into your room and slamming the door behind you.
Silence settled over the apartment. Or at least it should have. Instead, Yunho found himself staring at the wall. His brain had stopped cooperating somewhere around the moment you’d walked into the living room. Not because of the towel. Well. Not entirely because of the towel. It was the fact that you’d looked completely caught off guard. Completely real. Not the sharp tongued attorney who spent every workday arguing with him. Not the woman who could dismantle opposing counsel with a single question.
Just you.
Then his mind drifted. The way when you had turned around he could see a glimpse of your ass peaking from the bottom of the towel. “Well,” Wooyoung’s voice snapped him out of it. “I’m going to my room. I have a new season….” Yunho stopped listening again as Wooyoung disappeared down the same hall you had. He’s wanted you for seven years. Obsessed over you. Yearned over you. Might of moaned your name a few times during one night stands. And now he was sitting here in your apartment and had the perfect opportunity to finally try and have you. “Shit.” Why did he feel nervous? He doesn’t get nervous.
The apartment felt strangely quiet when you stepped back into the hallway. For a moment you simply stood there. Yunho was exactly where you’d left him. Sitting on the couch. One arm stretched across the back cushion. The case file sitting untouched on the coffee table. And he was staring at absolutely nothing. Lost somewhere inside his own head. You’d never known Yunho to be quiet.
The floor creaked beneath your foot and his head turned. And immediately his eyes found you. His gaze dropped before he could stop it. Legs. Bare from mid thigh down. Your black shorts doing nothing to cover them. His jaw tightened and his eyes immediately snapped back to yours. And for the first time all day, Yunho looked caught. Actually caught. Not cocky. Not smug. Caught.
Something about that made your stomach flip. “Nice staring,” you called him out and his eyebrow lifted. “Nice outfit.” You rolled your eyes. “There he is.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “Missed me?”
“Not even a little.”
“Liar.” The word came automatically. Like breathing. Like every conversation you’d ever had together. Yet somehow tonight it felt different. Softer and more familiar. Your gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward the thick litigation folder sitting there. Thank God. Something normal. “Did you at least bring the case file?” Yunho followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh. “I did.”
“Good.”
“Look at us.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Being responsible.”
“We’re attorneys.”
“Debatable.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself and Yunho’s expression immediately brightened. Like he’d just won something. Idiot. You hesitated another second before finally crossing the room. Every step felt weirdly loud and noticeable. The couch suddenly looked much smaller than it was. You hated that. You hated it even more because Yunho seemed perfectly relaxed. Until you sat down. Then his entire body went subtly rigid. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, thigh ending up far closer to his than either of you probably expected.
The scent of your shampoo drifted through the air as you reached forward grabbing the case file before your brain could focus on anything else. “Okay,” you said, opening it onto your lap. “Work.”
“Work,” Yunho agreed. The word sounded strangely disappointed but you ignored that as you flipped hrough the first few pages. “Corporate fraud.”
“Mm.”
“Thousands of pages of discovery.”
“Mm.”
You glanced over but Yunho wasn’t looking at the file. He was looking at you. You cleared your throat finding it harder now to focus on anything other than your newly accepted feelings for him. “So…” you looked back towards the file, scanning words but not reading any of them. “this is a pretty big case…”
“I want you.”
You froze and you could practically hear the panic in Yunho’s voice. “Shit…” he did not mean to say that out loud. Not like that. “I mean…. I uh…” he shook his head. Because fuck it. “Actually…. Yeah. I want you. Fuck.” He let out a humorless laugh. “It’s driving me crazy for the better part of a decade.” When he looked at you, you were still staring at the file. Frozen. Shocked. “Look…. I know you…. Kind of hate me. I mean…. I do…”
“I don’t hate you.” Your voice was quiet, heart beating so loud you were sure Wooyoung could hear it from his room. Because Wooyoung was right. Your shower spiraling was right. Yunho had feelings for you. “I don’t think I ever hated you. You could just be…. a pain in the ass.” Yunho snorted despite his confession making him nervous. “I was only like that because I never wanted someone like that before. And I couldn’t afford distractions in law school. So I… tried blocking you out… it just made it worse.”
You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “So you just decided to be like some third grader pulling at my pigtails.” He laughed then. A full on real laugh. “Something like that.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re an absolute idiot.” It got silent for a moment. You both just stared at each other until Yunho looked away. “Idiot might be understatement. I…. there’s something you should know.” He hesitated. Because what he was about to say was probably gonna make actually hate him. But he couldn’t shoot his shot without the truth being out. Otherwise it would eat him alive.
“What is it?” You furrowed because he liked serious. Like what he had to say was more serious than his arguments defending anyone in court. “I knew your boyfriend cheated on you. I saw him…”
“It was you.” You cut him off. Of course it was Yunho. He never could mind his own business. “You sent me that email. The pictures….. what you just…. followed him?” Yunho scoffed like he was offended. “I didn’t follow anyone.” He shrugged. “I hired a private investigator.”
“Oh my god…” you laughed. Because what were you supposed to say? Were you meant to be mad? Mad that he caught your boyfriend cheating and found a somewhat weird to tell you? “you’re obsessed with me.” You were joking. Kind of. Mainly teasing but Yunho didn’t deny. In fact his demeanor shifted. He sat up, and when his gaze met yours again…. it had darkened. Sharpened into something heated and hungry that made your stomach twist and your thighs to almost clench together.
“I told you…” the tone of his voice had dropped. Which was dangerous. Because Yunho’s voice was already deep. Intoxicating if you will. But right now….. you couldn’t help but remember the break room and that same tone against your…. “that if you had me in your bed no other woman would exist to you.” You finished for him and it was like all that tension that built for the last seven years snapped.
“Wrong.” Yunho’s gaze dropped to your legs, taking his time to work his way up, pausing at your lips and staying there. “No other woman exist to me since that first day you told me to fuck off.”
You knew the two of you should probably talk. Actually talk. Go over everything. Have that real, I like you, you like me, speech…. but you were over it. Seven years of him driving you crazy. Seven years of him obsessing over you…. your own gaze fell to the loose tie around his neck and you remembered that little drunk confession you gave Wooyoung.
“What are you….” Yunho froze when you reached out and grabbed his tie. You gripped it, thumb rubbing against the material. “You want to know what I was talking about…. when you were eavesdropping at work?” You looked at him and your gaze was almost as dark and hungry as his. Yunho gulped, remembering that phone call. He hadn’t heard much other than you proclaiming no sex. “Wooyoung was reminding me of a dirty little secret.”
“Yeah?” Yunho was gone. He was gone the second you grabbed his tie. You could tell him to get on the floor right now and bark me he probably would. Because the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re imagining every detail of him under his clothes. Like you could see his dick twitch in his pants when you tugged his tie a little. “Mhm.” You started scooting closer on the couch, your thigh brushing against his leg now. “Apparently I told him I wanted to choke you with this tie” you gave his tie another tug for emphasis. “and make you beg for it.”
You both just stared at each other for a moment before leaned his head back, let out a groan and then looked back at you completely undone. “Fuck me.” He grabbed you, your grip on his tie tightening as he pulled you into his lap. Your lips met messy. Desperately. Needy. You moaned into because now you could feel him. Feel the bulge in his pants where his dick had started getting hard the second you grabbed his tie. Could feel his dick twitch when your tongues collided. And you moaned when he pulled back just enough to start kissing down your neck, lips grasping at any skin available within the tank top you had on.
“Fuck…” Yunho was the one moaning now as you kept your grip on his tie and started rocking, grinding. His dick aching in his pants as you rode him. “You gonna beg for me, Yunho?” He wanted to say no. It was instinct. He never begged before in his life. He always had control. But for you…. “Make me.”
“I bet you don’t last two minutes.” You said it so sure of yourself and that alone made him want to give in. He watched you, pupils blown, dick practically screaming to be let out and buried inside you already. You reached down with the free hand that wasn’t still gripping his tie and palmed him through his pants. His bulge alone was big and you could only imagine what he had zipped up underneath. And Yunho? He just sat there, his breath already uneven as your fingers worked at his belt and zipper with deliberate slowness.
The apartment around you felt charged, the spring air from Chicago filtering through a cracked window doing little to cool the heat building between your bodies. You tugged his pants and underwear down just enough, freeing his dick. It sprang out, thick and heavy, the tip already flushed and aching with a bead of precum that caught the low light.
A low groan rumbled from his chest the moment your hand wrapped around him, and you felt it twitch hard against your palm, pulsing with need as if it had a mind of its own. You stroked him once, twice, dragging your thumb over the slit to spread that slickness, savoring how his hips jerked forward involuntarily. His tie remained clenched in your other hand, anchoring him in place while you worked him in unhurried strokes that made his thighs tense and his knees weaken slightly. Every vein along his length throbbed under your grip, the heat of him radiating into your skin as you took your time exploring every inch.
You shifted closer on the couch, using the head of his dick to hook the edge of your shorts and panties and with a slow push, you moved the fabric aside, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. Instead of taking him inside you, you guided him between your folds, letting the length glide along your slick. The underside of his dick pressing right against your clit as you rocked your hips, using him like a toy to rub slow circles. Each pass sent sparks through you, your grip on his tie tightening while your strokes on him matched the rhythm.
Yunho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out as he fought to stay still, but his dick kept twitching between your folds, leaking more with every glide. You could feel the way his tip caught just slightly on your entrance before sliding up again, teasing without entering, building that unbearable friction against your swollen clit. His breathing grew ragged, eyes locked on where your bodies met, pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back as you kept the pace torturously steady, riding the length of him without letting him slip in, your clit grinding down on the ridge of his tip again and again in deliberate, dragging motions that made your own thighs quiver.
The wet sounds of your arousal coating him filled the room, mixing with his soft curses under his breath. “Fuck sweetheart..” His control frayed at the edges with every pass, shoulders rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as he resisted the urge to thrust up into you. You edged him mercilessly, slowing your strokes whenever his dick pulsed too hard, drawing out the moment until the tension built in his body like a coiled spring. The pressure mounted in your own core too, each glide pushing you closer until your own orgasm hit. Your thighs shook, a soft cry escaping as you came against him, slick coating him further and dripping down him. That was when he broke.
“Fuck… please ok! Please let me fuck you,” Yunho gasped out, voice strained and desperate, his hands trembling as they gripped your hips. And the second you nodded, he moved. Strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he stood. He didn’t wait, didn’t tease, he lined up and impaled you down onto his dick in one deep thrust. The stretch burned in the best way, forcing a sharp cry from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and unyielding, your walls clenching around every inch of him.
He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then his fingers dug into your thighs and he started pounding up into you. Each thrust drove deep, the force making your body bounce against him while you clung to his tie and shoulders like a lifeline. The living room filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and there was no way Wooyoung wasn’t hearing all of this with the way your moans grew louder until you screamed his name, your pussy clenching hard as you squirted around him, soaking his dick and thighs in a rush of release that stained dripped and stained the carpet below you.
“Which one is your bedroom?” Yunho asked, his voice hoarse with need. Still buried inside you, “the…. one on the right down the hall…” you were breathless as he carried you there without pulling out, every step making him shift and press deeper, his dick nudging against sensitive spots and wedging against your g spot that had you gasping. He wasted no time getting you on the bed, his gaze catching site of the mirror angled perfectly toward it and grinned, dark and hungry as you both made quick haste of getting your clothes off, tossing them aside until nothing remained between you.
He grabbed you, pulling your body flush to his. “Look at the mirror,” he ordered, sinking to his knees between your legs. “Watch how I make you beg for it.” His tongue thrusted into your pussy in firm, wet strokes that had you arching instantly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the bleached strands as the pleasure built fast and sharp. Your legs shook, cries spilling out, “fuck…. Yunho… please… please make me come…. I need…” you started grinding against his face and he didn’t let up until you shattered again, body trembling and pulsing around his tongue.
Yunho kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, pausing when you eyed his dick and he smirked. “If you want a taste all you have to do is take it.” You shook your head, pulling him closer. “Next time,” you breathed, needing him inside you again too badly to wait. Too impatient for it. “Fuck…” he had to hold back from saying, Fuck I love you, instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, holding you down and positioning you to face the mirror.
The head of his dick teased between your pussy and ass, sliding back and forth in lazy passes that made you whimper and push back. After a minute of that torment he sank back into you with a single thrust, your walls instantly clenching around him as one of his hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head toward the reflection of the mirror. The sight of him over you, buried inside you staring back a painted sin. “Watch…. watch how my dick is about to make you mine.”
He started fucking you hard, hips snapping forward in deep, relentless strokes that had you babbling, begging, “harder…. harder….. deeper… Yunho please…” and he gave it to you. Hands gripping your waist, hard, as he grinded into you, “you feel so fucking good, sweetheart….” he paused for a moment just to feel you clenching around him, then, just as the pressure peaked, he pulled out and flipped you and folded you a little, your legs pressed up and over his shoulders.
He tapped his dick against your clit a few times before sinking back in, his hands moving your legs to pin your thighs down as you watched in the mirror as you started squirting again, making a mess over both of you. Ruining the new sheets you only bought a few days ago after Wooyoung spilled his iced coffee on your others. The sight spurred him on, his pace turning brutal. “You’re mine. Pussy… mine. All of you. Mine.” Maybe he was a little possessive.
Your back arched as another orgasm crashed through you, sobs and cries tearing free but Yunho didn’t stop. He kept pounding, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came with a groan, filling you until he you milked him almost dry then he collapsed on top of you, still buried inside, his weight comforting as you rubbed slow circles over his back, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You begged for it.” He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes with a satisfied grin curving his own lips.
“So did you.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The next morning felt strange. Not bad strange. But an awkward kind of strange. For seven years, you and Yunho had existed in this bizarre limbo of arguments, tension, stolen glances, and denial. Now, after finally tearing down every wall between you, you were somehow expected to walk into Jeong & Partners and act normal. Which was proving significantly harder than either of you anticipated. Especially because Yunho was terrible at it.
“You are wearing the same suit.”
Yunho looked over from the driver’s seat. “So?” He hadn’t even gone home last night. After he had finally pulled himself out of you, you took another shower, that lead to you dropping to your knees and finally getting him in your mouth. Had an amused and smug little told you so looks thrown at you from Wooyoung. Slept together which lead you to find out that Yunho liked being the little spoon which was beyond hilarious with his size. Then he gave you no argument in letting him drive you both to work in his ridiculously expensive Mercedes.
You stared at him. “People will know.” Not that you really cared. “And?” And apparently Yunho didn’t either. You looked at him as pulled into the law firm parking garage and when he looked back at you after parking, you both burst out laughing.
Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened onto the twentieth floor and immediately, something felt off. Not wrong. Just… observant. Associates looked up from their desks. Assistants paused mid conversation. Even the receptionist seemed suspiciously interested in her computer screen. Nobody knew anything. But somehow everybody knew something.
You stepped out first with Yunho a few feet behind you. Both of you trying very hard to appear casual. Which probably would’ve worked if Yunho didn’t keep looking at you every thirty seconds as you headed toward your office. And you almost made it. But then Yunho’s eyes narrowed. Because across the floor, Danny appeared. Coffee in hand. Making a direct path toward you just like every morning. Only this morning was different. Because this morning, Yunho’s patience had completely disappeared.
Danny slowed as Yunho walked straight past him. Past several confused associates. Past two paralegals who immediately stopped pretending to work. Then he reached you and you barely had time to speak before his hand wrapped around your wrist. “What are you doing?”
“One second.”
“Yunho.”
He ignored you completely as he turned you toward him and kissed you. Right there in the middle of the litigation department. The entire floor collectively forgot how to breathe and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. Possessive and completely unrepentant. And entirely too pleased with himself.
“Mine,” he murmured softly and your face immediately flushed. “Yunho….”
“Just reminding you.” Then his eyes shifted past you. Right towards the frozen associate still holding two coffees. Yunho smiled bright and friendly. And definitely cocky. “Morning, Danny.”
Danny looked like someone had personally unplugged his soul. And without another word, Yunho straightened his jacket and continued walking toward his office as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the firm. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then chaos erupted. Across the floor, associates started whispering. Phones appeared. Someone actually dropped a stack of files.
And from behind the glass walls of the managing offices, Mr. Jeong looked up from a contract. Watched his son disappear into his office. Watched you standing there frozen. Watched Danny questioning every life decision he’d ever made. Then the older man leaned back in his chair and shook his head, muttering to himself.
His stare slightly falters into hers, catching himself off guard. Vergil attempts to remain usually stoic, but beneath the fluttering touch of the dawn, he softens. In this moment, the devil found himself craving more. Drawn to the intensity of her presence, obsessively needing to be nearer to her—an undeniable and fiery ache that thrummed beneath his skin.
“I’m yours. I will always be yours.” His whisper curled around their shared breaths and settled deep—not just in a mere hunger of ownership, but the vow of a soul tethered to her.
🎨: Bubz Art (FB)
╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮
in over the years i’ve loved him, this is the first tjme i’ve ever commissioned someone to draw my yumeship 😵💫 the fear of uncertainty on how ppl draw him has ceased me from doing so, but now i fear im addicted
a/n; funnily enough, i was a dante girl when i got into dmc, now all i seem to write for is vergil,,,
cw; none! maybe one section is a little suggestive, but otherwise this is mainly fluff.
Vergil’s chest is your preferred pillow, sprawled across his lap or between his legs; your preferred place to rest. Said man lets his hand stay burrowed in the tresses cloaking your skull, while his other hand holds a book. You’re forced to read the back cover of a lengthy novella;
‘…secrets of man’s nature,’
‘…depths of evil’ ‘…luminous possibilities of love.’
…Vergil’s gracious enough to leave a few inches between it and your face.
At the very least it has a pretty picture of a cottage to go along with it and not a portrait of the author's face. You can’t bear to stare at Blake’s face any longer, so, this is a nice change of pace.
But you didn’t exactly intend to spend your morning staring at a paperback.
And your intended isn’t exactly showing any signs of changing courses anytime soon, when Vergil gets that furrowed brow, you know he’s enthralled.
You sigh, a long drawn out thing that screams ‘pay attention to me’, the only complaint you have is when Vergil reads anything other than poetry, he gets lost in it. For the past hour there’s been no;
‘This section, would you like to hear me recite it?’
‘Would you be willing to indulge me? I believe…’
‘Have you ever read anything like this? No? You’ve missed out then, if you would allow me to—’
And very rarely;
‘…Do you believe we’re like the lovers in this passage?’
Instead all he’s been doing is ignoring your slighted glare. His only response, the rustle of a page turning and a slight shift to accommodate you further. You hate him. You adore him. Obsession is too light a word to describe what you feel for Vergil.
“Vergil.”
Nothing. You still stare up at him, plastered on your face is an expression that might rival that of a fat pudgy cat expecting another treat from its owner. However, even the most subservient of owners must put their foot down eventually, Vergil is still deciding if today is that day.
You’re confident it isn’t. You can wear his walls down.
You try again. “Vergil.”
Blank. But his lips twitched. That’s one stone tumbling off the ramparts.
“Verge.”
That gets him. It annoys him. But it gets him to react and that’s a win in your book.
You suck your lips in as if it doesn’t further enunciate your smile when you see one pale blue eye slide down to meet yours, what little he has of a brow dips down to furrow.
You’re beaming at him, and if he’s as smart of a man as he claims to be, then he knows what you’re thinking of doing.
“What.” He says it flatly and you wonder what it is you even see in him. Your lover is frigid.
You’re silent for a moment, cataloguing your beloved's face as if it’s the first time you’re seeing him and not the thousandths.
Vergil’s eyes are deep-setted and gorgeous, his brows are thin and as previously stated, all but nonexistent unless the light shines on them just so, his lips are plush and kissable, pouty when he sleeps, thin and tucked away when his brother annoys him or his son says something particularly Dante-like.
But, his pupils dilate just so when he stares down at you and you wonder if Vergil does the same thing you do when he looks down at you like this, if he adores your dopey smile as much as you adore his cold stare.
Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and you confirm your theory to be true when he presses it further against your palm. He’s cold to the touch, yet late at night you know him to be a pillar of warmth, when the sun's up and you're away from the privacy of your shared bedroom with it's blankets and pillows and lockable doors; you just have to coax it out of him.
“I love you.” You murmur, low and honeyed. Vergil exhales as if you’ve annoyed him, but his own fingers betray him. They rub back and forth through your hair and against your scalp, his glare doesn’t soften, but the set of his jaw does.
“You’re peculiar.” Vergil isn’t one to talk.
“How?” You know what he’ll say, and you regret giving him the opening.
“You are well aware of who I am, what I've done,” Vergil starts and you nearly roll your eyes.
Here he goes again, droning on about how you deserve better, someone normal. A man who could age with you and die with you. Someone who hasn’t tried to end humanity twice. Someone you can bring home to your parents.
You’d love to mimic his droll flat tone and spout the words you’ve come to memorize, intone them just so ; ‘I cannot give you the softness you deserve, I can only give you myself as I am—’, but last time you did so, he all but mauled you in bed as pay back, sunk his teeth deep until his canines met, pinched muscle between them rather ruthlessly and left marks you swore you saw Dante laughing at and Nero cringing at--
Wait.
Your mind snags on that particular memory, you claw for it to come back as it fades. Vergil’s lips closed around your shoulder, his teeth drawing blood, his grunts bordering into growls, his hips smacking against yours…
A repeat isn’t such a bad idea, actually. A refresher.
It’s actually probably really needed just so you never think of doing it again, actually.
But.
Vergil pulls you from your thoughts before the idea could fully take root. He knows that distant scheming look, a nudge brings you back to the surface.
“…and yet you’re still here expectant.”
You snort. Of course you’re still here. You know Vergil’s game by now. He’ll point out his flaws like an insecure teenager fishing for compliments, and when he gets said compliments (in this case, reassurance) he’ll go quiet and silently preen.
He’s predictable here only because this is the only battleground where you have the upper hand. What Vergil lacks in experience when it comes to navigating romance, you have in spades. He probably thinks he's being subtle using this tactic, he's as loud as a siren.
You shrug. “I’m here because I love you.”
Vergil’s eyes narrow. Everything fell on deaf ears again, but those three little words get a ‘hmmph’ from him. Satisfactory. You hadn’t said it much all morning and he was beginning to worry.
Love is, again, a light word to use. It didn’t matter if you didn’t hear his whole spiel, surely he’s found some new flaw to tack on, not that it would matter.
Sparda himself couldn’t pry you away from his son.
Truth be told, Vergil doesn’t understand what exactly it is you see in him, he’s waiting every single day for the other shoe to drop, after life like he’s had, nothing could be this easy without it being a set up. But that day has yet to come, and you’re keen to keep it like that.
That settles that. Vergil’s content to set his book aside and pay you the attention you’re due. It closes with a loud thump and once it's on the end table, his arms wrap around your upper half gently. His chin rests atop your head, you smell nice. Like him, as you should, given he’d washed your hair with his soap earlier.
Vergil tucks your face further against him. If you keep peering up like that at him, he might fold and give in to whatever wicked whim you’re wishing for. (There isn’t much resistance to begin with, Devil May Cry is blessedly empty, the fact you left the shower at all and unscathed is a miracle.)
For now, however, you’re both more than happy to soak in each other’s presence, content to be within the others arms. The sun streams in from the window, melts away your worries on mornings like these, warms your back just enough to coax a very long sigh from you and everything falls into place.
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thinking about re9!leon and captain price sandwiching me <3 two of my big thick dilfs absolutely looking down on me while my thick ass self looks up at them with the most doe--yet most evil--eyes they've ever seen, like i am RUBBING MY HANDS TOGETHER LIKE FERAL SONIC bc im picturing them whimpering and groaning and reaching their limit so fast bc of their old ass age while me being in my prime mid 20s im just GETTING STARTED
The morning he does starts off with Ghost passing him in the hallway, a steaming to-go cup in his hand. The smell of coffee meets him.
"Since when do you drink coffee?" he says, halting in his tracks.
"Since the time you learned to mind your own business," Ghost says without pause in either voice or step, continuing his march like a man on a mission.
Soap snorts and keeps walking, thinking nothing of it until a few days later he spots Ghost with another coffee, this time along with a little paper bag. He makes the mistake of setting it on the counter for a moment.
Johnny immediately hooks a finger in the opening and peeks inside, the smell of sweet and warm baked goodness meeting him.
Ghost nearly takes Soap's hand off from how hard he slaps it away.
"Hands off."
"Ach, Jesus, alright." He rubs his stinging hand. "A good morning to you too, Lt."
Ghost rolls the top of the bag closed again and leaves just as suddenly as he appeared, mind and attention focused elsewhere. He disappears around the corner as Soap tries to think of how and why Ghost is walking around with warm pastries. Did he go off base and bring it back? Did he bake it himself? Now there's an image, Johnny thinks.
He's given the opportunity to find out just the next day.
He's en route to the shooting range to meet with Kyle when he runs into Ghost marching off with yet another bag in his hand.
"Hey, Lt," he calls, jogging over to him. "I'm headin' to the range, you in?"
"Later." Ghost doesn't look at him, instead scanning around searching for something. Soap looks down at the bag in his hand, seeing light condensation on the inside from whatever hot food is in it.
"Jesus, you doin' food deliveries on the side now or somethin'?"
"Or something," Ghost says in the tone of voice that actually means: "Shut the fuck up."
"Well if that's the case," Soap starts, willfully ignoring him just to rib him a bit, "I think I'd like to make an order for lunch—"
Ghost tenses. He does so in a way that Johnny only sees when there's a loaded gun in his hand and a soon-to-be corpse standing in front of him. It activates something in Johnny's lizard brain and muscle memory takes over, immediately stepping into a defensive position, facing whatever it is that's coming at them.
But all he sees are a couple of medics on their break.
You're sitting at one of the tables outside, trying to get as much fresh air as you can on the woefully short break you managed to get. One of your coworkers, someone who's worked on the same ward as you ever since you arrived at this base, walks up to you. You smile up at him in greeting. He hands you a styrofoam cup filled with a steaming drink, made from the overworked coffee maker which you gratefully accept.
The both of you are too far for either Soap or Ghost to hear. They can only see you kick out the other chair for him to take, see him sit in front of you, and start getting into a conversation that you both lean into.
You laugh at whatever he said and the sound of it reaches to where the two soldiers stand.
Soap swears the air drops in temperature a few degrees. He stills. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. All he dares to move is his eyes to look over at Ghost.
Ghost stands there like the manifestation of cold wrath itself. His eyes, as dark as the thoughts running through his head with perfect clarity, stare down the medic sitting in front of you. As sharp as the knives that his fingers have the sudden urge to wrap around.
The sound of the bag in his hand collapsing under Ghost's deathgrip cuts through whatever spiraling void his mind began to fall down. Ghost heaves a quiet breath and resumes his march over to your table. Soap stays where he is, watching with a morbid fascination.
When he approaches, you look up at him and instead of the concerned (if not frightened) expression that Soap expects, you give him a beaming smile. He places the bag down in front of you.
In the moment that you're busy opening and looking through it, Ghost shoots the man across the table from you a look that Soap can't see from here, but the way that all of the blood drains from the medic's face gives him a pretty good idea.
You place the containers of food on the table and say something to Ghost. He rumbles something back to you and turns away without anymore fanfare. By the time he makes it back to Soap's side, the puzzle pieces have started to click together.
"Aye, so it's your lass who you've been sneakin' all those goodies to."
"Wot?"
"Ye know, your girlfriend?" He gestures to you.
"Fuck are you on about, Johnny?"
Soap is struck with the full understanding that A) Ghost is head over arse in love with you and B) Has no intention of doing anything about it. Which does and doesn't surprise him. The man's a workaholic, dedicated to the job just as much as any other of the 141; they wouldn't be alive if they weren't. But he's also not one to be passive about things. Ghost is about as blunt as a sledgehammer to the back of the head, doesn't waste time with tedious little social dances.
Which leads Soap to come to the other, most crucial realization of C) Ghost has absolutely no idea.
"Nothing. Never mind."
Ghost rolls his eyes and slinks off, leaving Soap standing there with a million thoughts racing through his head.
Soap disagrees with the notion that he's impulsive. Impulsivity carries the notion of thoughtlessness, of a lack of regard for the future. Instead, Soap sees no point in running in circles, hemming and hawing. He encounters a problem, sees what needs to be done, and executes. Hesitation gets you blown up.
Which is why, after encountering this predicament, Soap knows what needs to be done to solve it. All that is required now is the right time to act and the perfect opportunity strikes on an afternoon he's walking with Ghost to Price's office.
"Lieutenant!" your voice calls out from the other end of the hallway. The man in question immediately halts and turns back around. You come jogging up to the both of them, a small plastic container in your hands. "I was going to give this back to you earlier but, you know, busy." You hand the container to him which he takes. "Thanks again, it was really good."
"You liked it?" he asks, soft, timid, like your approval is what keeps the world spinning.
Soap wishes he had a camera right now. Or a pencil and paper. Just to immortalize the look on Ghost's face.
He stands with his chin tucked, like a bashful wee puppy dog if Soap had to describe it. He stares at you with his big, unblinking eyes, glittering like you just handed him the key to paradise instead of a piece of empty plastic.
"It was delicious," you say fervently, "you have to show me what recipe you used."
Sweet, steaming, bloody Jesus.
Ghost has been cooking meals for you.
Soap stares gobsmacked, open mouthed at the side of Ghost's head, mind reeling. Ghost doesn't realize because he's too busy looking at you. Nothing short of a bomb threat could pull his attention away.
Ghost shrugs, fiddles with the container like he all of the sudden doesn't know what to do with his hands.
"It was nothing. Just something I threw together." The way his eyes soften, sweet as melted chocolate at your praise screams otherwise.
"Well, either way. It was amazing." You look down to quickly check your watch.
"No rest for the wicked, eh?" Ghost drawls.
You sigh. "Tell me about it."
Soap watches the moment with certainty that nothing will come of this, can see in perfect vision that you'll leave and Ghost will do nothing but watch with the yearning they write about in poems. The both of you will live in complete ignorance about the near apocalyptic levels of longing that he just knows bothers Ghost more than he realizes.
He glances at Ghost. Glances at you. Formulates a plan. Sees every way it could go horribly and every consequence that could come of it. Commits anyway.
"Have to say, I really admire you medic folk," Soap says before you scurry off, leaning a shoulder against the wall, casual as can be.
"Oh," you say, taken aback by the sudden flattery. "Thank you, Sergeant."
Soap feels Ghost's presence behind him like a world-ending missile in its pre-launch phase. He swears he can hear a countdown start.
"Aye, some of the hardest workers I've seen. Nothing short of brilliant, too."
The missile's coordinates lock in right on Soap's head. He refuses to acknowledge the cold sweat that starts up along his spine.
You wave him off, a pretty heat making its home on the apples of your cheeks. Soap wouldn't have guessed Ghost had an eye for sweet little things like you. "Takes all sorts to keep the wheels moving," you say, a humble deflection.
"But you all are the ones that keep us in one piece. That's no' a small task," he leans his head in just a touch, as close as he dares with the Shadow of Death standing right behind him glaring holes with those demon eyes of his into the back of his skull. "Ah, careful though," he further dares to employ the little side-smile-eyebrow-quirk that's yet to fail him, lowering his voice into a gravely lilt that always gets him the attention he wants, "you keep on like that and you'll make the rest of us look bad, bonn—"
"You have training duty to report to," Ghost interjects in his full Lieutenant Voice that has Soap unconsciously shooting up from his slouch on the wall. By the time his muscle memory has passed, Ghost has already shifted his attention back to you. "I'll see you later, yeah?" he addresses to you, sounding like a completely different person from literally just a second ago.
You smile at him and nod. "Yeah." He returns the nod and watches in soft silence as you march off to whatever else the rest of your day has in store for you. The two of them stand in silence. He measures the air like he would the stability of a live explosive in his hand.
"So," Soap says once you're out of sight, hearing the countdown reach zero. "When's the weddin'?"
The sound of Ghost's palm smacking the back of Soap's head echoes down the corridor.
I have so much brainrot for Vergil and Dante right now. You can read this thinking of game or anime Vergil, the feeling is the same.
vergil x reader
The room was flooded with blue.
With him.
Dawn was still far from reaching the hidden place you called sanctuary. Night was beginning to surrender, but the sun had yet to appear, a place caught between both worlds. If it had to be described, it would be that uncertain hour where the darkness softens just a fraction, when the world breathes a little slower.
When it feels as though time might take pity on you and grant you just a little more.
Outside, it was raining. The sound was a murmur that bled through the walls with effort, like a distant conversation. You couldn't see it, but you imagined that the outside world was also blue: the cold hue of the early morning, of wet streets, of a cloudy sky blanketing the stars.
The hue enveloping you, however, was anything but cold.
Maybe this is what the ocean floor looks like, you thought, staring at the colored walls. But it couldn't possibly be this warm.
Your eyes blinked slowly, begging to give in to sleep, but you kept your gaze stubbornly fixed on the blue. The word adhered to your thoughts until it lost its shape. Blue, blue, blue. You couldn't see anything else. When the world remains this silent, thoughts can become devastatingly loud. You didn't want to close your eyes; if you did, the color would disappear. It would slip away.
You didn't want the gold of the dawn, but the deep indigo of the twilight.
The world sank further as more thoughts washed ashore. Deeper and deeper. Bluer and bluer.
Then, you were pulled back to the surface the moment a warm hand gently encircled your wrist beneath the sheets.
You thought he was asleep.
Your gaze drifted from the walls and settled on him.
The scarce lighting softened Vergil’s features, turning him into something more ethereal than lethal. His eyes, whose true depth remained unknown to you, cleared from a raging storm into a peaceful sea. Blue, blue, blue. A clear gaze, softened by sleep, locking onto yours.
While his expression was indecipherable most of the time, his eyes could be terrifyingly honest.
You wondered if he knew.
You never mentioned it.
Nor did you speak a word as your hand was drawn out from under the covers. He held it between the two of you, at the level of his chest, of your eyes. Vergil’s hand was larger, calloused where yours was soft, with invisible scars upon his palm that could only be felt when skin pressed against skin.
There was nothing special about your hand, it was merely a human limb.
Even so, Vergil’s touch was always cautious when it came to you. Not because he believed you were fragile and feared breaking you, though you knew he easily could. In reality, he touched you as if it were a surprise that he actually could, that you allowed it. Trying to see what he was looking at was in vain, but you knew his vision wasn't the same. What did he see that made him hesitate?
It should have been you trembling, yet it was his fingers that wavered as they covered your skin.
Sometimes, it seemed as though he were waiting for the moment you would reject him, as if scorn were inevitable.
You didn't pull away. You didn't dare break the silence. Words could shatter the fragility of the moment. Instead, your eyes never left him. His fingers separated yours slowly, one by one. It was hypnotizing. Painfully intimate.
You shifted your gaze from your joined hands to him. A few white strands of hair fell across his forehead, but he made no move to brush them aside. All his attention was anchored to the smaller palm pressing against his own. If he closed his hand, he would trap you completely.
As if he hadn't already.
Whatever he was looking for, he found it. You held your breath when he suddenly guided your hand to his face. It wasn't what you expected. His warm breath brushed against your skin, heating it. One, two, three deep breaths. His lips hovered, finding the right spot, and then pressed softly, then with more firmness, into the meat of your palm, his nose brushing your skin. It was a gesture far more expressive than any spoken declaration. Vergil closed his eyes, breathing in your skin, sighing into your palm, but you didn't dare blink. You just held him through it.
The ghost of his kiss remained as he pulled back slightly, just enough to follow the path he had silently chosen to trace. Vergil’s mouth ascended until it found the delicate skin protecting your wrist. Your heart responded by starting to race wildly, and Vergil caught the beats with his lips, feeling them, keeping them. He dismantled you completely.
Blue, blue, blue.
With Vergil, you had never known the edge of the blade. Nor the bite of ice. But tenderness was almost as terrifying as a stab wound. It was hard to discern which one could hurt more.
He did nothing without a reason, and you wondered if there was a hidden message.
There was.
He wouldn't tell you, but the thought was there, the words heavy at the back of his throat, pressing to get out. For someone who never hesitated to speak, he couldn't utter a single phrase.
If he were a better man, perhaps you would already know.
This is yours. Perhaps you don't know it, perhaps you suspect it, but he knows.
It is yours.
There isn't a moment where he doesn't think it.
If there was anything worth thanking the earth for—that devastated world he denies ever belonging to—it was you.
He could walk that earth simply knowing you are in it.
You felt his lips tremble against your pulse, pressing a little harder against that mortal fluttering. Distantly, you wondered if you had somehow managed to crack Vergil’s armor and slip inside.
Vergil shows off his power and skills to you on hunts because it’s a mating ritual for demons, only the strongest get the favour of the mate. Send tweet.
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Summary: You never thought you'd get so involved with the same man who has taken away any semblance of peace from you. Trying to pick apart and understand the convoluted mess of emotions that was your relationship with Wesker was nearly as impossible as plotting your escape route, and you've given up on that quest a long time ago. However, some things are simpler than they first appear.
Notes: ~ 6k words. Ambiguous (toxic) relationship. Implied captor/captive dynamic. A touch of character exploration. Semi canon-typical Wesker. Brief none-explicit descriptions of sexual intimacy.
Credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics
No matter how many years have passed you by, you remained by Albert Wesker's side for better or worse. And still he was an ever-evolving mystery to you. One would think that a man like him couldn't care less about sentimental things like human connection or trust, much less something like romance. And the truth was, you still couldn't even dispute that.
There were days when you wondered why you even still stayed instead of taking the easy way out. Escaping on your own was a thought downright fantastical in its potential success rate. Wesker was selfish, entitled, cold, cruel, sadistic, and all the unsettling characteristics trapped in-between. He was no gentle and misunderstood prince that was merely trapped behind the mirage of a vile beast cast upon him by some evil witch or wizard. There was no evil spell for you to break with a soft touch and a kind magic word. No true love's kiss to save the day and bring you a well deserved happily ever after.
Even though it was a fantasy you could occasionally indulge in, real life was very far from a fairytale.
You could've ended it all, you could've gone out with your head held high and on your own terms. What's the point of keeping yourself alive if you had no dignity left to defend? You could've proclaimed yourself a noble hero, someone who'd much rather take their own life than be used for evil. Sure, you'd never live to see the recognition of your selfless sacrifice, but... At the very least, you'd keep a clean conscience on you.
And yet, there were also reasons you've chosen to stay. Reasons beyond just being kept there against your will to complete your mission. As far as you were concerned, you've fulfilled your mission years ago already. You were still here, though. Still standing. Still feeling the firm pressure of his rough fingers wrapped around your own, in equal measure confining as they were grounding. Of course you've wondered about why you still stayed. But you've also wondered why he let you stay.
Perhaps it was that unfulfilled curiosity that has kept you here for so long. Even knowing he would never give you the satisfaction of realizing you were indeed special to him, you still wanted to get a glimpse behind the curtain one day - to prove that there really was more to him than he let on. It was your stubbornness, maybe. Or just foolishness. That's what he would say, anyway.
But you knew you weren't just seeing things, either. His actions spoke louder than words. Someone like Wesker didn’t allow touch - not without control behind it.
He could forcibly yank someone near him or place his foot on their neck at any time if it allowed him to look down upon them with that spine chilling tyrannical gleam in his eye, but he would never be seen lightly touching someone's shoulder or providing a reassuring pat on the back. And he certainly didn't enjoy it when that was done to him, either. You had to learn that the hard way in the first few weeks you've spent with him. Back then, he looked at you as if you weren't even a living, breathing being worth paying any heed to, more like some bothersome toy to be commanded and hauled around as he wanted.
That's how it started, anyway. It was far from a romantic meet-cute for you two, that's for sure. In the beginning, he only ever reached out for you and your hand out of practical necessity, nothing more. He merely didn't want you to get lost in the crowd and end up somewhere he didn't plan for you to be. Albert Wesker treasured his time, after all. He'd much rather prefer to concentrate on what truly mattered rather than squander his time trying to find you among the crowd. So, his hand would wordlessly wrap itself around your wrist like a vice, and not let go for a second until he was sure you'd stay right where he needed you to be like the good little pet you were. Really, it was more humiliating for you than touching. At least, that's how you felt about it in the moment, face heating up with frustrated embarrassment and your lips pressing together into a thin line to stop yourself from saying something stupid that would probably get you killed.
But that didn't stop you from still occasionally letting your mouth run wild on him. That would get his attention. You still remember how your heart sprang up to your throat the first time Wesker had abruptly gripped your entire face in one hand, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he all but yanked you close, a quick reminder of where you truly stood with him. Back then, your life had quite literally literally flashed before your eyes right then and there. You were confident that this was finally the end for you. And what a stupid way to go, having your neck snapped by some crazy megalomaniac instead of some heroic feat of glory, all because you just had to open your big dumb mouth and call him out on his egotistical bullshit.
But... It's been almost a decade since that fateful day, and your head remained securely attached to your neck. You didn't even need to credit that to some life altering virus. It took you a while, but eventually, you figured out why he let you go relatively unharmed for your occasional antics. He may have appeared utterly cold and emotionless at first glance, but the truth was that he actually enjoyed the struggle. He enjoyed having you talk back to him once every few days or so when your resolve would waver. He enjoyed the challenge and the thrill of pushing and intimidating and forcing that fiery will of yours to slither right back into the safety of your inner thoughts.
It turned out that even Albert Wesker could become bored. No wonder he suddenly started purposefully tormenting you with coarse words and forceful touches for seemingly no good or logical reasoning. It was his very twisted way of taking a quick break and relaxing instead of taking a nap or doodling like a normal person would. A rather twisted and sadistic one, sure, but also fitting for a man like him.
...You weren't sure if you should have felt honored or insulted to be given the unspoken new title of his personal stress toy. But you tried to concentrate on the fact that it at least kept you alive and standing for the time being. His scarce touches of practical necessity have somehow shifted into a calculated game of poking and prodding instead, a scheme with the sole goal of uncovering each and every single way possible to make you tick. No longer would he ignore you as if you did not exist in his vicinity. Instead, you'd find yourself wishing he wouldn't pay you as much close attention to you as he did.
Anything that made you squirm, jump, or shudder would elicit a deep chuckle of approval from him. It demonstrated your continued usefulness for his amusement, sure, but it simultaneously kicked your already ruined sense of pride even further into the ground. Sacrificing your pride for your life wasn't so bad, you supposed, there were far worse fates out there. But it didn't mean you had to appreciate it whenever he'd grab at your chin or run his fingers down the length of your spine in a way that was very far from comforting.
It was nerve-wracking to say the least.
He was like a cat playing with a mouse without ever intending to end its torment and devour it; all he did was relish the excitement of seeing you try to scurry away and fight fruitlessly to escape from his claws. You could never predict whether he'd be soft and gentle with you, or forceful and downright cruel. Of course, you were well aware that he did this on purpose. Everything he did held some sort of bigger purpose to it. Even the most gentlest of touches can be cruel if all they do is make you wonder if something terrible is about to happen once it's over. This contrast of hot and cold, of you never fully breaking but still conceding to his whims - was exactly what has kept you under his watchful eye for this long without you being discarded.
You couldn't recall the exact time when that has also began to shift. Perhaps instead of one pivotal moment, it was a series of smaller ones. You did recall the first time you touched him without him recoiling or clamping down on your wrist like a vise.
Stress toy or not, you still had the privilege of remaining by his side far longer than most. Excella's injections provided him with the horrifying strength that elevated him far above any living human, but they also had their drawbacks. He'd always get a bit more... intense after them. And you were the one who had to handle that.
Of course it was you. Excella was far too important to waste her time on something like this; she'd simply leave you to it with a saccharine smile and a sympathetic pat on your arm that was as far away from genuine as they come. She knew you wouldn't be enjoying yourself in any way. You could have been irritated by her arrogant looks, but you couldn't really blame her either. Hell, you'd probably do the exact same thing if you switched places with her. You were not a flawless angel, either.
Wesker never suffered the same horrifying effects you were unfortunate enough to witness with your own eyes a couple of times. After all, he was unique, one of a kind. Ouroboros has accepted him, a privilege granted to very few. If your never-ending streak of bad luck was any indication, you'd most likely be denied this privilege, too. But that didn't mean he was entirely unaffected by it, either. You had no idea if he was hurting. If he was, you'd guess he wouldn't show it to you easily, anyway. However, he would become noticeably more frantic and woozy for perhaps an hour or two. Whether he was in pain or not might have been unclear, but the cold sheen of sweat on his brow and the strain in his breath spoke of some discomfort, at the very least.
Additionally, there were behavioral shifts, too. Those were the ones you've always dreaded the most. On your regular days, Wesker might have been harsh, nasty, and arrogant merely to toy with you and irritate you enough to justify punishing you later. But it was at least calculated on his end. For those crucial hours following his injections, you couldn't say the same. You could handle him rambling on about concepts your feeble brain couldn't even begin to comprehend: from all the evolutionary failures of humankind to the potential of godhood, or a simmering anger towards a man from the past that should've been left buried and incoherent tangents on the memories you couldn't fully discern. They were confusing, yes, but your life has long since stopped making sense. Besides, it didn't seem like he was even all that interested in your feedback. Most of the time, you couldn't even tell if he was speaking to you or to himself.
You preferred it that way, frankly.
But there were occasions when he would become erratic, restless, irritated. If Albert Wesker was unpredictable in his normal state, whenever he'd get like this, that unpredictability would be upped to eleven. And wasn't the entire purpose of stress toys to release those kinds of emotions? So, that's exactly what you'd be used for. You'd take him toying with you on purpose over him hauling you close by your neck or slamming you into the nearest wall on any day of the week. He didn't even seem to be enjoying it. It felt like you were simply being used as the closest thing to take his frustrations out on.
You could take being treated as a tool, but you never did grow used to fearing for your life.
You couldn't remember if you did so just out of sheer desperation to avoid getting roughed up again, or out of some strange genuine feelings of twisted attachment you've formed after so long stuck in captivity, but- On one of those frantic nights, instead of covering away from him like you usually would, you reached out and... touched him. Apprehensively, gently, not expecting anything in return and with nothing left to lose. You remembered that his cheek felt hot to the touch - too hot to be normal - his skin clammy with sweat.
You also remembered that, to your complete surprise, he didn't recoil from you at that moment. Perhaps your hand simply felt nice and cool against the abnormal heat his body and mind were burning up with as his physical being scrambled to adjust to the injection and its effects. You had no idea, and he never actually told you, either. You just knew that he leaned into your touch, a heavy exhale falling from his chapped lips that sounded downright labored. That was also the first time you've gotten a real, proper look at those eyes of his. Eyes that could not belong to a human being no more. In the darkness of his private study, your round pupils met his snake-like slit ones: red, pulsating, and almost glowing dimly. You didn't know back then that this signature glow you were so mesmerized by seemed to be somehow tied to his emotions. You just found yourself thinking that it was... oddly beautiful.
Though, considering its actual origins, it was a rather strange and perverted kind of beauty. Not that you got to linger on that thought for too long. Because before you could do as much as utter a single word to him to break the tense silence between you, he wordlessly pulled you in by your shoulders, and suddenly his heated mouth was on you.
You remember being horrified with yourself for actually enjoying it after it had long ended and you were left rinsing off the residual sweat from your body. Although what you really wanted to rinse off was your creeping sense of shame.
That was one hell of a post-nut clarity for you, that's for sure. You were meant to hate this man, weren't you? Hate him with every fiber of your being, and you'd be more than justified in that hatred. But you couldn't deny the humiliating truth in the way your limbs have buzzed with pleasant warmth and your mind has flashed back to the heated memories of the few hours prior.
It was... nice to actually feel in control for once. It was also nice to receive pleasure without any strings attached for a change. The truth was, you definitely needed that, and you enjoyed it thoroughly.
Neither you nor he discussed it with each other later. You didn't have the guts to bring it up with him. That single night of shared vulnerability did not instantly alter the existing status quo between you. But it was the first little nudge that made the first domino piece drop. You could no longer regard him as just your brutal captor, no matter how much you might have wanted to. Especially now that you knew how he tasted on your tongue, or how his breath would stutter slightly when your hands pulled at his hair just right.
You could have been just as ruthless with him, or at least tried to while the chance presented itself. It would be only fair, after all. And yet, your touches were anything but. Excella would touch and caress him every time she cooed in his ear about this new world they were creating together, but you weren't intrusive nor demanding in the the way that you touched him.
You didn't bend to his will completely and you still took charge, but you never truly attempted to step on his toes, either. Perhaps that was the catalyst for true change. Somehow, eventually, that has become an unspoken routine for you two. He didn't force you into accepting it per se. Though, to be completely fair, not that you ever tried to refuse him. And perhaps that was for the better.
To be honest, you simply didn't mind it. You've already learned to make the best of your circumstances, and this arrangement was certainly way more beneficial to you than simply being used as a walking stress ball on the good days, and as a full-on punching bag on the bad ones, being given little to no agency at all. But with this, whenever Wesker reached for you or drew you in during one of his episodes, you could set the pace. You could control your own pleasure. You could genuinely connect to him in a very strange way for a brief moment in time.
You'd think someone like him would be a selfish lover, taking what he needs and leaving you there once he got his fill. But that didn't appear to bring him all that much pleasure. In fact, he seemed to get off on the fact that he was the one who'd have you shaking underneath him, your head utterly overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you, whether that was his long and expert fingers or him filling you. Without a doubt, the intense pleasure he would provide you made begging seem far less degrading in the moment.
And the longer it went on, the bolder you became. You were initially hesitant to do as much as cup his cheek or place your hands on his heated chest, too concerned about his reaction. But then, once you've figured out that he didn't want a simple obedient toy that simply does whatever he tells it to - after all, he already had plenty of those, variety is what keeps things entertaining - you've grown more and more sure of yourself. You would take advantage of the fact that your touch seemed to calm the hot fever that would rage through his body and mind during such moments. A caress over his hot forehead here. Your hands moving up and down his back in a comforting caress there. Never biting off more than you could chew. Even while you may have had every right to do so, you never tried to hurt him or put him down below you.
Until one day, you somehow got to touch him without it turning into one of those heated moments of passion. You remember him rambling on frantically about things long forgotten, names you didn't know, memories you didn't have any access to, unsolved grudges festering inside his brain like a raging tumor. You didn't know what nudged you into placing a gentle hand on his arm, your thumb swiping over the warm fabric of his dress shirt in a way that was... very simple. Not a suggestion, not an invitation, nor even a question. Just a mere touch of comfort he probably didn't deserve. However, your heart has long stopped thinking rationally. Good or not, this man was all you knew now.
You didn't have any special blood cells on you or unique DNA to exploit. You weren't particularly strong physically or intelligent, and your name alone didn't hold any weight or influence to it, either.
You were a nobody. A dumb, unlucky human who was unfortunate enough to be used for what little you could provide. And yet, all of that aside, somehow, you could offer him something nobody else could. A quiet companionship with nothing to gain. You weren't Excella, a brilliant and confident young woman, pushing her ambitions to gain more power. You weren't Jill, a broken soldier that was forcefully molded into nothing more than a tool with no sense of autonomy left remaining. And you weren't even Chris, a name still a complete mystery to you, but an impact of which was undeniable even to someone like you.
You were just... you. You were just by his side. Nothing to gain, nothing to push, nothing to win. And you freely offered him your touch and comfort without using it against him. You supposed, that's what made him slump into your arms on that night. You did nothing more than simply hold him through it. And ever since then, his touches have lost all sense of logical purpose that still remained. They were just... there, just like you were. Granted, you never really pressed him to explain himself. But it did become a strange kind of routine between you.
...You'd never take someone like Albert Wesker as particularly touchy or clingy, and yet-
His foot would touch yours under the table during meetings, his head would loll itself onto your shoulder the moment Excella would take her leave after administrating his regular injections, his arm would loop over your middle and stay there as he gave off his orders, and... His hand would find yours whenever he made his rounds. Instead of holding onto your wrist, now he'd securely lock your fingers together.
Granted, you still would be sooner caught dead in the ditch than to call him a romantic, even now. His touches felt sloppy half the time: far too rough and stiff to be considered swoon-worthy. But in some roundabout way, that's exactly what made them feel more genuine than the ones he subjected you to before this.
Now, he reached for you out of want rather than necessity. A want that went further than mere boredom. Instead, it was a quiet desire to feel you under his touch and indulge in you one way or another. To feel close to you.
His fingers were long and slender, oddly soft to the touch without his usual leathery gloves covering them. You'd expect them to be rough and dry, but instead, they were rather pleasant to the touch. Warm, too. But he was constantly warm, definitely warmer than a normal human being should be. You supposed, that was a perk whenever you'd get particularly chilly in the colder months.
Similar to tonight. You didn't get many chances to get out and enjoy the outdoors, but this secluded balcony would suffice. There was supposed to be a full moon tonight, and the night air felt especially icy against your cheeks as you watched your breaths transform into small puffs of fog that vanished into the night. You did grab yourself a jacket before you went out, but you still found yourself shivering a little whenever a particularly harsh gust of wind would blow through you. The crystal-clear night sky here was one of the very few benefits of spending the rest of your days here. You wouldn't see the stars or the moon nearly as clearly back home, where the city lights were all the constellations there were to admire. But out here, tucked far away from the world to keep some very terrible secrets hidden from sight, the sky looked deceptively lovely.
It sort of reminded you of Wesker, in a way.
It seemed as though you could just reach up and touch the stars as they twinkled down at you, let them carry you away from here and up into the wonderful emptiness of space with them. But... Of course, you weren't that naive. Even this magnificent beauty above you was misleading in nature. Who knows how many of those stars were still even there, still just as bright and full of life as you saw them as. All you could see down here were mere echoes of stars that had long since been left behind in the past.
You were not sure how long you've been up here, reminiscing and contemplating. As of recently, you seemed to really struggle with the concept of time quite a bit. Whatever the case, it was long enough for a familiar calm voice to suddenly reach your ears from somewhere behind you.
"-You'll get sick if you stay out there any longer. Go back inside. Your dinner is waiting for you."
You lowered your head with a gentle, somewhat amused huff, but you did not immediately turn around to face him. Words like that would probably sound sweet and romantic coming from anyone else. However, you were well aware that for him, that was only a factual statement, nothing more. You catching a cold would render you useless for him for at least a week, and your dinner was always brought to you daily at a strict schedule. After all, proper nutrition is essential for both mental and physical wellness, or so you'd expect him to say in that matter-of-factly tone of his. You knew him and his mannerisms well enough by now. Albert Wesker was a creature of logic. On most days, at least.
That did not mean that you'd stop yourself from selfishly enjoy this small fantasy of yours just for a little bit longer.
"Why? Don't tell me you missed me."
You weren't serious, of course. You weren't even being sneaky or anything. It was just some light-hearted fun on your part. You weren't in the mood to play the risky game of teasing him tonight. You heard him scoff under his breath in a way that sounded kind of similar to a petulant huff. You wouldn't call him out on it. That was an observation you'd silently keep to yourself with a tiny smile as you listened to him approach, the fancy leather of his coat crinkling with every step he took.
"I am simply ensuring my assets remain in adequate condition. I need you at your best tomorrow morning. Not bleary-eyed and confused."
You'll take that as a yes.
"Good thing you came to remind me, then," you said simply, turning around to face him with a faint smile. Over the years, you've most likely gone a bit nuts. The you from the past would have been furious with you for acting like this: shooting easy smiles and following along with the very same horrible man who's been a deadly thorn in your side for so long. However, you figured that the past is in the past for a reason. All you had at hand is now.
And now, Wesker's composed stare was fixed upon you. Calculating and a little bit intimidating, as it usually was. His expression was as impassive as ever, too, but his gloved hand was already outstretched towards you, no words spoken for you to understand the hint. You did not hesitate to take it, allowing him to lead you out of the balcony and into the warmth of the study. His hand was quick to warm up your frosty fingers, and you couldn't help but compare him to a living heater of sorts. Of course, you would never dare to utter such a thought aloud, either.
But it was a nice joke.
Once you were inside, he still wouldn't let go of your hand, and this time you couldn't hide your growing smile at the observation.
"...You're in an unusually good mood tonight," Wesker remarked dryly, his grip on your hand tightening imperceptibly. But you couldn't help but notice a fleeting hint of curiosity behind those shades. You've learned to read him way better than he probably even knew. He was always a creature of curiosity. For worse... But also, sometimes, for the better. Like now. He huffed, quirking a brow: "I hope this isn't some attempt at sentimentality."
You're one to talk, Albert.
But you merely shrugged, nodding slightly toward your still joined hands.
"No, it's just... I noticed how you still hold my hand even though it's just us here," you said, squeezing at his hand a bit for emphasis. You were aware that this was a risky action on your part. It was a gamble whether or not he'd appreciate you actually pointing out the lack of logic in his actions. But you hoped... You hoped that your obviously positive reception would smooth over the potential hit to his pride.
If Wesker was irritated by your remark, he did not show it. But then again, he was never very open and blatant with his emotions, outside of an hour or two after his injections. He wouldn't make it easy for you to figure out what he really thought beneath that stoic demeanor of his. But that wasn't bad. You've discovered that you liked the challenge of unraveling the intricate jigsaw piece that is Albert Wesker. Just like he seemed to like the challenge of deciphering your feelings for him as they shifted and changed over the years.
"And... What sort of conclusion does that observation lead you to, then?" He honestly seemed more curious than peeved off, much to your relief. You were lucky to catch him on a good day, then. You'll take that.
You took a moment or two to consider your response. What was your conclusion exactly? Was there even one? The truth was that you mostly said it just for the sake of it. Not to necessarily prove something or get a particular answer out of him. "That you... like touching me?"
He scoffed, disappointed: "How simplistic."
You nearly sighed and rolled your eyes. He wasn't wrong, but he didn't have to make it sound like an insult. You tipped your head up, feeling a bit more emboldened, and gave him a defiant look. A lighthearted one, of course, you'd never have the guts to genuinely defy him, but a testament to your change over the years nonetheless.
"Well, not everything has to be complex to have worth, you know. Some things are worth valuing because of their simplicity, don't you think?"
The corner of his mouth twitched up into an amused smirk, and you could see that he was intrigued by your quiet but firm argument, just as you had anticipated. This time, he didn't try to disguise it from you. You were no Excella, who could probably compete with him when it came to debating some scientific material you couldn't even begin to understand by yourself. You couldn't possibly try to challenge him on something that he knew well. This included many complex things. But you could offer him some perspectives he wouldn't get to hear from anyone otherwise, precisely because you came from a world so different from his own. Of course, that didn't mean he'd actually consider what you had to say, but... You supposed, he found your worldview entertaining enough to humor you sometimes.
"Hm. And your belief is that touch is one of those simple things worth valuing then. Correct?" he inquired, though you honestly weren't sure whether he was being curious or just sarcastic with you. Knowing him, you'd say it was probably the latter. But who knows. There may be a few sincere notes of curiosity mixed in there.
He pulled you into him, making you brace yourself against him with a hand to his chest. He did have a heartbeat. He was still flesh and bone, just like you. Technically. When it came down to such basic things, you often pondered just how different he really was from you. You both could bleed, you both could feel. And yet, it appeared like he was holding himself up on a plane of existence that was so far removed from you.
Wesker hummed lowly, continuing his train of thought.
"Touch... It's among the five most basic of human senses. The simplest, most primitive way for human beings to seek comfort... Connection."
As he spoke in that slow, precise delivery of his that you were subjected to many times before, his free hand came up to rest on the small of your back. The smooth baritone of his voice was so close to your ear that you had to admit it was a little bit difficult for you to focus on what he was saying at all. It made you shiver involuntarily. That said, you did not waver, even if you did need to swallow and wet your lips before speaking up.
"True... When we are first brought into this world, torn away from the warm safety of the womb, the first thing to bring us comfort is the warm touch of our mother," you murmured thoughtfully.
For a moment, you pondered whether he even had a mother. But then again, that seemed to be a stupid thought: he was brought into this world one way or another. There were only so many ways to accomplish that, after all. But he also wasn't exactly like anyone else on this Earth. You didn't really think of it before, but that sounded... kind of lonely. He seemed to parade his uniqueness as something that gave him a tremendous advantage, not a flaw or a setback, but... How would you feel if you could wield a power that nobody else in the world could comprehend or share with you?
The thought prompted you to caress the back of his hand with your thumb, almost instinctively on your part. You must have gone completely mad, feeling sympathy for a man like him when he's never once asked for it, and yet, you didn't even try to hold back the next words that fell from your lips in a soft murmur: "...Touch may be simple, but it's the one thing we crave when everything gets too much to handle on our own."
"...You speak boldly," you heard him say, a somewhat uncharacteristic pause to his words that wasn't as familiar to you as everything else about it. He certainly still didn't sound soft, or sentimental. But with someone like him, you'd catch on and cling to even the tiniest of changes, however absurd that may have been of you. "Almost as if you think you understand me."
That prompted you to raise your head. Some part of you hated that he was wearing those shades right now - you wanted to look him in the eyes. It was hard to understand him. It always was. Just as before, he stood motionless, silently maintaining eye contact with little openings for you to take. But he was still touching you. He was still holding your hand and allowing you to to touch him in turn. Impassive tone or not, that stupid calculating look of his or not, that had to mean something. Albert Wesker didn't do anything randomly.
"-Do I?" You simply mirrored upfront. With great care, your hand that was resting on his chest slowly moved up, gliding across his shoulder, tracing up the side of his neck, and ultimately coming to rest over his cheekbone. It wasn't really sensual or teasing. It was sincere on your part. He was free to either lean in or step away from you, should he only wish to.
He did not provide you with any definitive response, positive or negative, but you didn't anticipate that he would. The slow intake of breath and the subtle tense of his jaw under your fingertips was more than enough for you. Wesker was a creature of extremes. Either he showed as little as humanely possible, or it all would explode all at once like a raging volcano, no holding back at all, for better and for worse. However, this sufficed. Him letting you touch him sufficed. Him not responding to you right away more than sufficed. Instead, your question lingered in the air around you - a simple one, yes, but just as you told him, some things can be worth examining because of their simplicity, not in spite of it.
Finally, he moved, lifting his hand from the small of your back to clasp it around your wrist. It wasn't a harsh grip, nor was it to yank your hand away from his face. Just... there.
"Perhaps..." He mused thoughtfully, his voice quiet, curious. He had never looked at you like that before, as far as you could recall. You were no stranger to his curiosity: he was a scientist, after all. But the sharp gleam in his ruby eyes beneath those shades was something new. Almost like he was seeing something he hasn't noticed about you before. Although you didn't know if that was a good or a terrible thing for you, you did know that his attention caused your heart to race in your chest. He could probably feel it, too, with the pad of his thumb resting on the underside of your wrist. "Perhaps you do see more than I give you credit for."
And somehow, he truly didn't need to say anything else. There was no one there to see you right now, save for the full moon and the stars above, but your hands remained clasped together. He didn't need to explain that need to you. You felt it, too, after all. It was simple. But it was the same simplicity that allowed you to slowly work your way into his heart in the first place. Or... Whatever analogy of a heart he possessed. But you knew his heart could feel, however human or inhuman it might have been. His touch was your sole and irrefutable proof of that.
And it was through touch that you could communicate without saying a single word.
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