#he got the exact coordinates

[sysig]

Cards 👏 cards 👏 cards 👏 (Patreon)

[asydicsydney]

"Can't have anyone trying to find us" Too late, sorry Luna

44.753, -93.329, Vermillion Falls, Minnesota. (Technically, Savage, Minnesota)

East is Burnsville, as well as the Denny's. "The Lake" is Sunset Pond which fits with all their evening motifs. Minneapolis is actually 18.8 miles north. The Buffalo Tap & Grill is a bit northern but still in Savage. Also found a Braxton Drive in Minnesota, 13.4 mi NW of VF.

[joonsytip]

Something About You || Woozi

Pairings: Woozi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Lawyer!Woozi, Event Coordinator!Reader, Selective Amnesia au, Secret Relationship au

Synopsis: When your boyfriend loses all memories of you after an accident, you go through hell of a time trying to bring back the memories. But in the process of convincing him what you both had was real, it makes you question if what you both had was ever real.

Warnings:  jihoon is outright blunt and asshole, mentions accident, jihoon suffers selective amnesia, reader has astraphobia, relationship is hidden and based on rebound, one fighting scene, jihoon gets beaten by umbrella, oral (f. recieving), fingering, dirty talks, rough sex.

Word Count: 11.5k

Thanks to @cherriegyuu for beta reading this ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

The look Jihoon gives you is condescending. He believes that whatever you said just now is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

"I know it's hard to believe but it's true that I'm your girlfriend."

You repeat, biting back the tears.

The doctor takes pity on you and attempts to make his patient understand his current medical situation quoting it in most layman terms possible.

"Mr. Lee, you have been in an accident and that has caused internal bleeding in your brain. I'm not going into details but that has caused neural damage.", he continues solemnly, "Since you can't recognize your partner, we have run some tests and it indicates that you're suffering from amnesia."

Suddenly the door barges open and enters Soonyoung, Jihoon's friend and most probably the only one on his side who knows about your relationship.

Jihoon's eyes light up as he recognizes his friend and the realization dreads upon you.

"It's selective amnesia.", the doctor explains, carefully studying your expression, "Mr. Lee has forgotten all the memories you've shared."

Soonyoung stands up, his entire demeanor masked in disbelief, "How is that possible? He recognised everyone when I showed him the pictures! How can he not remember his girlfriend?"

"We can't give you an exact explanation but it's possible that before the accident happened Mr. Lee was thinking about her. "

You fiddle your fingers, tears wetting your cheeks and chin. Taking a deep breath, you ask, "Is there a possibility he can remember me or am I erased from his mind forever?"

You choke a sob. 

"There are cases where the patients have recovered their memories. It can take two days, two weeks, two years or even two decades. There's no certainty. In some cases", the doctor relents, "they never got their memories back. I'd suggest you revisit familiar places, re-watch your shared moments captured together. Anything to make him regain his lost memories."

It's been a hell of a ride since then.

Lee Jihoon, an enigmatic independent lawyer, who has zero nonsense tolerance has now a random woman constantly claiming to be his girlfriend of two years.

And somehow his close friend is backing up that claim. Something's absolutely fishy.

Jihoon glares at Soonyoung and completely ignores your presence right next to him.

"You have brought her into my office now?", Jihoon glowers in rage, his voice low, "Soonyoung explain yourself."

As the said man opens his mouth, you gesture him to stop.

You pull out your phone, opening the gallery.

"I have already seen them.", Jihoon says unimpressed, "I get that we have met through Soonyoung but these photos suggest nothing more than us being friends."

You show him a picture where he's hugging you from behind, his chin perched on your shoulder. You're smiling looking at the camera, he's smiling looking at you.

There's another one, set in his apartment, you are drawing something on his hand and he's kissing the top of your head. 

Jihoon turns away from you in his revolving chair, "This doesn't prove shit. We could have done this as friends."

You sigh, "Do you think you are that kind of person who'd do this with a mere or even a close friend?"

That shuts him up for a moment.

"Why would I be lying to you, Jihoon?", Soonyoung asks, almost offended.

"You tell me. I'm also not sure why you are doing this.", Jihoon retaliates.

There's a beat of silence before Jihoon continues, rubbing his temples in frustration, "Look, I don't wanna be an ass about it but you don't have enough proof to back up that we were in a relationship."

"But--", you're getting cut off.

"No one knows about us, none of my friends or colleagues. You show me our pictures and I admit they look intimate but it doesn't solidify that we were dating. You showed me our text conversation and never in the span of two years did I write a single 'I love you'.", he shakes his head, "All of it looks circumstantial to me."

It hits you harder than you could imagine.

Another couple of months go by and you're still not giving up. 

"He was on a call with me, Soonyoung, when the accident happened he was talking to me.", you admit sobbing. Soonyoung hands you the tissue box and patiently waits for you to continue. 

"He had been acting antsy for the past few days and though I wanted to share his burden, I decided not to probe. I knew he'd eventually let me know. Before the accident, the last thing he said was he had something to tell me and he was on his way to my place."

He pats on your shoulder, "Jihoon will get back his memories of you, Y/N. Let's keep trying."

But you've freed Soonyoung from the burden of constantly backing you up, still being a great friend he shows up whenever he can.

You work as an event coordinator. You were acquainted with Soonyoung through a common friend, so when over two years ago you had been contacted by him to be the planner of his brother's wedding, you agreed instantly. 

You are professional. In your line of work, you're well known for professionalism. 

But it was discarded the moment you saw Jihoon among the crowd on the wedding day. 

You had ditched professionalism then and only once, when you asked Soonyoung for his friend's contact details. When enquired, you spilled it all to Soonyoung honestly. 

Lee Jihoon is a known name in the city, he's reputed to be the best. It goes back a year when your friend's aunt had gotten scammed by a loan shark losing her property. With no lawyer interested in defending her, it was only Jihoon who had fought for her.

You swore you hadn't seen anyone cooler. The aura he emitted, the impeccable ferociousness and the sincerity he showed when he represented his client had you down bad for him.

Since then you've developed a crush but it would pass by, you thought, as there's no way you'd be crossing paths with him ever unless you have something to deal with legally.

But seeing him again during Soonyoung's brother's wedding was a sucker punch to your gut.

Suddenly, the crush resurfaces, in fact it ten folds when Jihoon looked nothing but absolutely gorgeous throughout.

"Jihoon has a foul mouth, so don't expect anything good coming out of it.", Soonyoung warns as he sends you the contact details, "Don't cry, don't take it to heart, no matter what he says."

And Soonyoung was correct. 

"Hi, I'm Y/N. I got your contact from Soonyoung."

When you had called Jihoon asking him if he could free some time for you as you had something to discuss, he agreed, assuming you would be needing some legal advice.

"Go on a date with me.", you say, "Please?"

The incredulous look on his face was remarkable but you had mustered all the courage within the world before sitting in front of him and discarded all the shame along with it.

"I'd be courteous since you're Soonyoung's friend but don't dare to try this act again.", Jihoon gets up, controlling himself from berating you as he walks past.

"3 dates.", you grab his wrist and he looks back at you, "That's all I want. And if you reject me after that, I won't be a bother."

Yanking his hand from your grip, he glares, "And why did you assume that I'd want to invest my time on you? You must be knowing that I'm quite busy."

"That surely makes you bitchless.", you snark back under your breath but Jihoon catches it.

He scoffs in a mix of disbelief and anger, "You--"

Clamping your hand on his mouth, you apologize quickly, "Sorry about that. And to answer your question", you grin, "Why don't you find it out yourself by going on a date with me? Tonight works for you?"

"You, for sure have a few loose screws.", Jihoon finally says, removing your hand, "Look I'm not interested and I'm busy, I work till late every night."

So Jihoon is rendered speechless when he sees you knocking on his office door late at night, to be specific at 2 AM.

"Hey, brought delicious wedding food and beer for us.", you enter and set the bag on the chair as the table was occupied, "That was one extravaganza wedding I had to arrange."

"And who said that you could be here?", Jihoon quips back, initially agitated but as the aroma of food hits his nose, reminding how he had skipped meals again and now his stomach could growl anytime, "This is rude and unethical."

"I know but I've decided to go against all ethics to woo you, Mr. Lee.", you throw him a wink which has Jihoon rolling eyes at you.

The first date was spent by eating food, chugging beer and your one sided talks.

The second one comes some days later as Jihoon agrees upon it just to make it crystal clear that he's really not interested and you should stop pestering him. He goes blunt, his words piercing you, intentionally. 

Though you insist, he is adamant. So you promise to not bother him anymore and make up your mind to move on.

Surprise comes to you a month later when Jihoon asks to meet you through a text. Somehow that night ends with you tangled in his sheets and the next morning he finally agrees to date you.

"Let's keep it private for now.", Jihoon tells and before you could ask the reason, he continues, "I wanna be sure, if it works out fine, let's tell everybody."

You find it a bit skeptical but it's not impractical so you agree. 

"But Soonyoung gets to know.", you declare, leaving no room for negotiations, "And my family and close friends would be knowing too."

Jihoon is your boyfriend now but something about the way let's himself around you makes you worry.

You don't expect him to act lovesick around you but he's so conserved. He barely texts you, only shows up when insisted and rarely initiates anything. There are no terms of endearment from him, no special acts.

Eight months into the relationship and you decide it's enough. You're done with his half ass slash zero commitments. So you start to act like him, zero calls, no texts and updates. You realise that you had gotten too good at the game when Jihoon knocks at your door one night.

Jihoon notices the lack of communication on your part and he doesn't let it bother him thinking you must have been busy but when it goes on for nearly a month, it strikes him that something's definitely wrong so that's how he finds himself knocking on your door.

And that night changes the dynamics between you two.

Jihoon has been getting frequent dreams nowadays. He sees you in all of them. In one, he's playing chess with you, in another you're perched on his lap humming soothing melodies to get him to nap. In some he sees your bodies tangled in the sheets.

He wakes up, his body hot, mind foggy. It's reoccurring, even pestering. He concludes that the reason behind these dreams is all the nonsense you've been feeding him daily, it's because he sees you everyday. He decides to put a stop to it.

"Something's bothering you?", you ask upon entering his cabin, "need help?"

Jihoon perks up, "And what can you help me with?"

"You might have forgotten, but we used to brainstorm a lot. You'd never go into the exact details of the case to respect privacy and we'd create hypothetical scenarios and try to come up with possible nooks and crannies."

He scoffs, "I would never take opinions from anyone. It's not my way of working, I work solely upon my hunch and instincts."

You've had a long day and aren't in a mood for banter. All you want is a warm bath and tight sleep.

So not pushing it further, you set the bags on the table and say, "I bought you food from your favourite outlet. Eat it up while it's hot and call me if you need me."

"Don't expect me to call you.", Jihoon blurts out, "When are you gonna stop doing this?"

You give him a sharp look, "Stop doing what?"

"Trying to forcefully insert yourself in my life."

You scoff, "Maybe when you stop being an asshole and try to put some effort into gaining back your memories?"

Jihoon glares at you. You glare back at him, no way you're taking shit from him today.

When his jaw ticks and eyes turn darker, you think of backing down and leaving because you know it's the look he gives when he's about to say something absolutely brutal.

"Maybe you should get a hint by now.", he says coldly, "Isn't it obvious, the reason why I remember everyone but you?"

"Jihoon, don't.", you say as soon as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"You weren't someone important in my life, Y/N. You're so insignificant that I don't even remember you."

Your throat closes up. A tear falls down your cheek and before he could continue his verbal assault, you run out of his cabin.

While doing so you bump into someone.

"I'm sorry.", you say, wiping your tears before looking up.

The woman in front of you, echoes your words and leaves. Your gaze follows her and you see her entering Jihoon's office. And rooted to the ground, through the glass window you watch an entirely different Jihoon. The frown on his face is quickly replaced by a shy smile, his body language seemingly changing to gentleness. The way he crosses the chairs to pull one out for the woman to sit, the eye contact that definitely holds a meaning.

For the first time, your head and heart come up with the same conclusion.

Later that night, Jihoon is somewhat shocked to receive a call from you.

"Who's she, Ji?", you ask from the other side, "Why were you looking at her like that?"

He straight up knows whom you are talking about and he right away knows that you're drunk.

"Where are you? Are you alone?", he asks you, already looking for his car keys.

He hears something incoherent and presses the phone tighter against his ear.

"Tell me Ji, why were you looking at her like that?", you ask again.

He halts, "Like what?"

You hum and he hears a loud thud. There's a moment of silence and Jihoon is rooted, holding his breath.

Moments later, you speak again, "Like you used to look at me. Like you like her."

"Where are you, Y/N? Can you send me your location?", he tries to coax you, "I'll come right away, we'll talk. Please tell me where you are."

Another pause and just as he's about to speak again, he hears your sobs. His heart tightens in his chest.

"D-Did I already lose you, Ji?", comes your choked voice, "Did you give up on us? Why can't you like me again?"

There is no answer to your questions. 

"I love you.", you say, "I love you so much that it hurts. What do I do now? I-I think I love you way too much, much more than I thought. And I regret not telling you sooner."

Jihoon freezes, he's tongue tied, his knees almost giving up.

"And if this is the end of us, then--", the line disconnects. You've accidentally hung up.

He calls you back immediately but you don't pick up. Repeated calls, when they remain not received, he sends you a string of texts.

Already inside his car, he's about to drive away in search of you, aimlessly, when he receives a text from you.

'I'm at home.'

He let out a breath of relief, his mind pounding, his heart thumping because of your words from before.

It's been over a month since Jihoon has seen or heard from you. For a week or two it was nice, not having you breathing on his neck felt refreshing. By the end of the third week he's worrying about you, his mind is relentlessly fogged with your thoughts. Mid of fourth week and he's contemplating whether to send you a text or ask Soonyoung to do it. 

It isn't relaxing anymore, it's stressful. It bothers him to all extent. He feels guilty about going overboard with his choice of words that night, he never meant to make you cry. He can't forget your drunk confessions either.

You are on a call with your mother who's nagging you to consider extending your stay when you go home for Christmas along with the equal urging of your sister and father. A lot of negotiations and you're finally agreeing to them.

"How's Jihoon? Any luck with the memories?", your sister, Eunha asks.

"Let's not talk about him.", you say after a beat, "I think, my relationship with Jihoon--", you halt, not being able to continue further, before the cracking of your voice gives it all away.

Eunha knows you better than anyone and sensing your tone, she's quick to assure you, "I've always admired your straight headedness. Whatever it is, I know you'll overcome it. And all of us are always there for you."

The doorbell rings and you frown, "Thanks Eun. I'll call you later, bye."

Checking the time and opening the door causes your frown to deepen. 

Jihoon sits on the couch, an awkward tension lingering in the atmosphere. And somehow it pains you to look at him, you're avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but him, waiting for him to initiate the conversation.

A photo on the centre table catches Jihoon's attention and he picks it up, his curious eyes scrutinizing the faces. It's the two of you, an amusement park in the backdrop, grinning ear to ear, pressed cheek against cheek, radiating love through the photo itself.

You quickly snatch the frame out of his grip, setting it down on the same centre table.

"I hate amusement parks", Jihoon mutters more to himself but loud enough for your ears to pick up, "Because they're so crowded and everyone's screaming.", he looks up at you, "I went there with you?"

You just give a simple nod, no explanation, no backstory.

I love going to amusement parks. And you don't hate them anymore.

"Why are you here?", you ask him finally.

"I'm sorry.", he blurts out, "I'm really sorry for that night."

Your brows furrow for a moment before the neutral expression returns, "You didn't have to come here to apologise, a call would have sufficed."

For the record, you just know you had called him as an aftermath of that night but you don't remember, not even a bit of things you had said and you don't plan on bringing that up either.

Jihoon notices your defensiveness and to test it he stands up to walk towards you but you're immediately backing up.

"I'm feeling under the weather so if you're done, could you leave?", you speak still avoiding his gaze, "And I know you don't want me anywhere near you, rest assured I won't be a bother."

"What do you mean?", he asks closing in, "Are you still upset at me, even after I apologized?"

You keep stepping back, "I'm not upset. I'm just not feeling well, please leave."

I think you already replaced me, Ji.

Your back hits the wall and reaching you with long strides, Jihoon is caging you between the wall and his arms.

He hovers over you, "For the past months, you've been begging for my attention, trying everything to establish our relationship, so what happened, what's with this change in demeanour?"

He leans in, your faces merely an inch apart.

"Isn't this what you wanted?", your somber gaze meets his fiery ones.

He's not sure what he wants anymore.

"I have been having dreams about you, about us.", he admits, stepping away, "And I don't think they're just infringements of my imagination."

"What did you see?", your voice comes out in a whisper.

He then proceeds to tell you about the dreams and not so surprisingly you have stories and even photos for some cases to collate with his description of dreams.

"So did we record it as well?", Jihoon asks amused as you dab your hot pink cheeks, "I wanna see it though--"

You're slapping a hand on his mouth as he blatantly teases and asks you about the wet dreams he has been seeing which wakes him up with a tent in his pants.

"Let's brainstorm.", Jihoon is setting his briefcase on the table suddenly, taking out some flaps.

You eye him in suspicion, "Did you hit your head again, you're acting strange. You're acting like my Jihoonie."

The corners of his lips twitch, trying to suppress a smile, "Maybe your Jihoonie wants to make a comeback."

"I'll be waiting with my arms wide open, I miss my boyfriend.", you admit, your tone emitting sadness, your gaze meets his and you're smiling, "Thanks Jihoon."

Maybe that night at his workplace, you read it all wrong. Maybe your mind was too tired, your heart was too hurt so they made a fuss over nothing because you know your Jihoon would never do something to hurt you, even when he can't remember you. Even though his head can't recognise you, there's a hope that his heart would still beat for you.

He grins wider, "Don't get me wrong, I just came here to test your problem solving abilities."

"You should be thanking the heavens that I didn't choose law as my career, you'd have been jobless otherwise.", you retort smugly.

Maybe running your mouth isn't the best option, especially when with Jihoon because now he's running his fourth hypothetical case with you, pinching your arm whenever your drowsy eyes are shutting close.

"Another wedding?", you hum in delight, "Ah, god bless you."

Joshua laughs, "Is it such good news to you that another of my friends is getting married?"

"Isn't it obvious? It keeps the business running.", you muse, eating the brownies he has baked for you, "This is the 4th one right? Why are all your friends getting married this year?"

Joshua ponders, "Beats me as well. How are the brownies, sweetheart? I tried a new recipe today."

"And it's my new favourite.", you say, making him grab a bite of his own baking, "Makes me wanna kiss your hands."

He unabashedly holds his hands to your face only to get a swat.

"That's not what you said you'd do, sweetheart.", he feigns offense, "Shouldn't you start commissioning me by now? I think I bring in a fair share of customers."

He's absolutely right. Joshua is people's people. Everyone knows him. You knew Soonyoung through Joshua, in fact most people know others via him. 

The common link, the mutual friend that everyone talks about is actually Joshua Hong. He's the gossip monger, nothing gets past him. Not even the fact that you had gotten into a relationship. 

You were an expert in keeping personal matters under the sleeves and as asked by Jihoon, only Soonyoung was made known. But two weeks under his observation and he's declaring that there's no point in hiding, that he can tell by your body language that you're dating.

You didn't deny, you knew Joshua is perceptive. Though you felt bad for hiding who you're dating, he waved it off with all smiles stating he'll get to know when the time is right.

"Correct, I should start commissioning you but for baking me the best confectioneries.", you chirp happily, "The lemon drizzle chocolate cake you made at the previous wedding, I can't stress how good it was. Only you could make chocolate and lime flavour work like magic."

"You look happy, sweetheart.", Joshua comments casually, "How's things going with Mr. Boyfriend?"

"It's complicated, Josh.", your mood sets down.

Joshua takes a look at your face and decides to drop the topic.

"What do you think of me, Josh?", you ask with a serious tone, throwing him off bound.

"You want the truth, sweetheart?", he asks softly, his hand already atop yours, rubbing your skin soothingly.

Just one please from you and Joshua is baring his heart out, "I don't know who made you doubt yourself but to me, you're my rock. I have tons of friends but you're among the ones I'd always seek solace. When I had no one, you were there to support me."

He smiles embarrassed as you catch his teary eyes. Joshua is always cheery but there are rare moments like this where you get to see his vulnerable side.

"I was almost out of business when you took me under your wing until I had accumulated enough capital and reputation to establish the standalone business.", he fondly pats your head, "You barely knew me then, just know that you saved my life back then. So I'd never accept anything apart from compliments from anyone about you."

"Joshua Hong, it's too early, don't make me cry.", you say wiping your tears.

His laugh reverberates pleasantly, "You look pretty even when crying, sweetheart."

"You mean ugly."

"I said what I meant, sweetheart."

You could never win against Joshua.

"You're going to Soonyoung's housewarming party right?"

"Only if you're going.", Joshua sighs, leaning back, stretching his arms, "Socializing can be pretty tiring, sweetheart, so I need you as my charge-up."

Soonyoung thinks, no he's sure that Jihoon has been acting differently.

"Weeks ago", Soonyoung pulls up his phone, "I even have proof, you said you weren't coming to my housewarming party. I was hurt, I still am."

Jihoon grimaces.

"You said that you won't go if Y/N's going.", he almost shoves the phone on the lawyer's face, "And now you're here just to ask if she's coming. Why does it matter so much?"

Jihoon gets a little frightened when he sees Soonyoung holding up his hand. He's gonna count points now and after each point, Jihoon knows he's gonna get earfuls.

"First of all, I'm your friend so why does it matter who's coming or not. You should be there ", one finger down.

"Second, unlike you, Y/N is a decent person who doesn't abandon her friends.--"

"When did I abandon you--"

Without batting an eye, Soonyoung continues, "Third, I don't care if you're coming or not."

Jihoon cowers when Soonyoung puts his hand down smiling, almost eerie, "Now, tell me what changed? Are you getting your memories back?"

"Well maybe? First I've been having dreams, now they've turned into flashes. It has been difficult, this whole thing since the accident. But I think I'll get those missing pieces of my memories back soon.", Jihoon smiled wistfully.

"You better be on your knees and apologize to your girlfriend when you do so.", Soonyoung says with an undertone but smiles nonetheless, "I deserve an apology as well."

"Did you just curse?", your brows crease. 

When there's nothing but silence that follows, your eyes squint as you speak again, "So you're not gonna answer me?"

Jihoon frowns, "Who's Joshua and why are you taking him with you as your plus one?"

"We both didn't have a plus one so we decided to go together, that's it.", you explain, "And I know you said you wouldn't go to the party if I go so what's the problem here?"

"Can you stop please?", he pouts and you fight back the strong urge to kiss it away, "It was before, now I want to go but with you."

You grin, "Sorry, but I can't ditch Josh. There's time, find someone."

He nods, accepting defeat. He follows you from the kitchen to the dinning as you set the plates on the table.

You both have fallen into a routine, Jihoon has been acting awfully comfortable around you lately. He drops by your place anytime, he knows your passcode. When you call to remind him about having meals he makes excuses to see you. 

"The lawsuit against the insurance company that I've been working on", he says sitting across from you, "The one we discussed last month, I am planning to try the method you suggested. You might be right, I think these people are collectively trying to extort money in the name of insurance from the company, all of them have huge debts piled up and they're in a closely knitted group."

"Jihoon, let me warn you, it might be the case that your client is actually the perpetrator. What would you do then? You're supposed to fight for your client, not against them. You'll lose trust, people won't come to you."

"Then let it be. Maybe I'd get less cases, but people who are wrongfully accused would have their trust in me. I won't side with those who are on the wrong side of the law."

You give him a proud smile as you both eat in a soothing silence before he leaves your apartment as it drizzles outside.

By the time Jihoon reaches his apartment, the dizzles have turned into a heavy downpour with lightning jagging across the sky. And by the time he's out of the shower he can hear the thunderstorms soaring.

His head hurts with an intensity causing his knees to buckle up. There's a flash again and despite the ache, he's searching for his car keys.

Yet another one of his numerous calls remains unreceived. With every second that ticks away, Jihoon feels his heart constricting. However, his eyes glints hope when he sees the glimpse of the familiar building, nearing it.

His nervousness causes him to mispunch the code a fair number of times. Entering, he comes across an expected sight. The surroundings are pitch black, just becoming visible when the lightning strikes. 

"Y/N?", he shouts. No response. He puts on the flashlight of his cell phone and starts searching for you cautiously. He takes a deep breath, all he has to do is search across a hall, two rooms and a kitchen.

"Y/N?", he shouts again. Still no response. Just as he's about to stride towards the bedroom, from the corner of his eyes he spots a silhouette somewhere in the kitchen. He turns, focusing the flashlight, to see your weak form. You are supporting yourself by the counter with your fingers jabbed into your ears. His gaze softens.

He lunges towards you, engulfing your shaking form into a tight hug, "Shh...I'm here."

"Ji...", you voice out weakly, wrapping your hands around his waist instantly. The call of this nickname stirs something within him. He rubs your back, peppering soft kisses on your forehead. Another lightning strikes and you're shivering in his embrace.  

The raindrops hitting the window panes erupts the stillness of the night. Only with the rain stopping, you find yourself calming down. And you find yourself in Jihoon's embrace.

"How did you-- Why did you come back?", you ask, pulling away but Jihoon doesn't let go of you.

He wipes your tears and observes you carefully, "Are you okay now?"

You nod, "Thanks, Jihoon."

"I felt like I needed to be with you. I don't know how but I just knew that you've astraphobia so I drove back as fast as I could."

You feel a sense of relief, "You already knew, you're just starting to get your memories back, Jihoon."

He stares at you, his eyes darting to your lips often. 

You stare back at him, his eyes asking for your permission.

There's an unspoken consent and instantly, his lips are on your. Pressed against the counter, he grabs the back of your neck deepening the kiss. His thumb runs against the column of your throat, making your head go dizzy.

You gasp into the kiss when he lifts and sets you up on the counter. 

"Ji..", you say breathlessly, "We probably shouldn't--"

His lips work now, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, "I want to love my girlfriend, is it so wrong?"

"Whom you don't even remember--", another kiss to shut you up. The way you moan is enough for Jihoon to almost make a mess in his pants. 

"Which room?", his voice is thick with desire as he carries you now, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Tell me before I fuck you against the wall.”

One hand slides between your legs while the other supports your weight, as he lays you on the bed his fingers exploring through the fabric of your dress. “Tell me to stop.", he whispers against your neck, nipping slightly.

"Don't stop, Ji", you whine and that breaks him completely. 

His breath catches in his throat at your intense gaze and he leans down to whisper in your ear his hands trail down your sides, making you shiver. His hands push your panties down, sliding the fingers across your wet slit, “Was it lonely here without me?”

“Please Ji, need you.”

With a gentle yet firm grip, he holds your wrists above your head. “You're so adorable when you're needy like this…”, he presses his lips to your neck, trailing kisses downwards, “Such a perfect, impatient thing.”

He hooks his fingers in your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist as he settles between your thighs. He looks down at you with loving eyes, his voice dropping to a husky whisper "My love, you're killing me with these eyes.”

Your body moves on its own, trying to find friction, soft gasps coming out each time you feel his hard clothed length.

A deep chuckle escapes him, "So responsive. Is this what you wanted? To make me go wild?" He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss while one hand traces your curves, “Such a good girl.”, he whispers against your lips.

He breaks the kiss to look into your eyes, his own burning with desire, "I'm going to take you hard and fast, tonight.”

A wolfish grin spreads across his face at your eager response. In one swift motion, he tears off your clothes, leaving you bare before him. His eyes darkens with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "Damn, you're gorgeous." he growls, quickly shedding his own clothes.

He settles back between your thighs, his hardness pressing urgently against you. With a sharp inhale, he slides into your welcoming heat, filling you completely. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, setting a relentless pace. His hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust.

He leans down to roughly claim your lips, swallowing your moans as he continues his frenzied pace. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place. "Take it, baby. Take every inch of my cock.”

“Fuck, missed you so much Ji, missed being ruined by you.”, you say in between of sobs and gasps, clenching around him.

His movements become more urgent, more possessive. He knows you're close, and it only spurs him on, "Squeeze me just like that. Milk my cock with your perfect little pussy.”

With a feral growl, he buries himself deeper inside you, grinding against your g-spot as he unleashes a torrent of thrusts. Your screams of pleasure fill the room as you reach your peak, your inner walls convulsing around his pistoning cock.

As you come down from your high, he continues to pound into you mercilessly, seeking his own release. His face contorts with pleasure as he chases his climax, his body glistening with sweat. 

With one final, brutal thrust, he explodes inside you, his hot seed filling your womb as he roars his release. He collapses on top of you, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room as he tries to catch his breath. "Fuck... Are you okay?”

He nuzzles his face against your neck, his body still trembling as he asks softly, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" 

His large hands gently roam your body, checking for any bruises or marks from his rough handling. "Answer me, please?”

A sigh of relief escapes him as he feels your gentle nod against his cheek. "Good", he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. He gently nips at your lower lip, "Though I do need to lotion those lovely handprints on your hips... they're quite noticeable.”

“If I let you, it'll lead to another round.”, you say, still breathless and smiling.

“I wouldn't mind. Would you?”, he waggles his eyebrows comically, trying to elicit another giggle from you and maybe get inside you again.

Seeing the crowd, you realize that Soonyoung, if not as much as Joshua, is quite popular.

There's a very limited amount of people you can recognise and the majority you don't. You stick close to Joshua and leave his side when the flock of people keep coming and greeting him.

"There you are.", Soonyoung smiles as you hand him a gift, "How's things going?"

You understand the insinuation, giving a genuine wide grin, "A lot better, you must be knowing, he's getting his memories back bit by bit."

He pats on your shoulder, "Soon, he'll be remembering it all."

Though it's crowded but there's a touch of coziness, you like the atmosphere. Taking permission from Soonyoung, you make a quick tour of his new house. It's impressive, it's warm given the purpose, he bought this house to settle in once he gets married. His parents, including him, have been looking for a partner for him.

You conquer a table at the corner, sitting quietly and sipping on the drink that the host himself has given you. 

"There you are, sweetheart.", Joshua settles beside you, taking a sip of what you were drinking.

Joshua is extremely fun and must have a person to be around, specially at the parties. He would point at random people and drop the juiciest gossip about them. What makes it more interesting is that Joshua's memory is photographic and storytelling is top notch.

You'd ask him about something that occurred four years ago he'd be spilling it all out unabashedly, doesn't even need a brush up.

'Just got here, Soonyoung told me you're in the lawn, I'll come and find you.'

A smile creeps up on your face as you read the text from Jihoon, keeping your phone aside.

Joshua demands your attention once again as he points at a woman, wearing an unmistakable neon coloured jacket.

"That's Arong", he says, "Runs her own boutique. She's a Richie rich."

You squint your eyes to figure her out and surprisingly she's someone you know. She's the same woman you had seen visiting Jihoon's office.

With your interest picked, you ask, "How do you know her?"

"We're good friends, went to the same university.", Joshua eyes glint as if he remembers something amusing, excitedly turning his head to look at you, "She's quite a character you know, she used to hangout with a guy discreetly. I think they had the same group and wanted to keep it low. She's not the kind to commit to a relationship."

You listen quietly.

His eyes turn big, emitting specks of energy as he continues, "Here's the interesting part. She knew that the guy liked her, even after that, she indulged him, went on dates, hooked up with him, all of this went on casually. But when the guy finally asks her out, she brushes him off."

Joshua laughs, "Can you believe it? She doesn't even reject him, she just brushes him off. Imagine the humiliation the guy faced.", he quotes, "By the way, it's not her first drill. From what I heard, all her words not mine, that the guy was really invested in her and wasn't willing to give up, must be a romantic kind. It's kinda blurred out on what happened but she did kinda bruise his ego."

There's something unsettling about this whole narrative. You don't know why but your chest caves in.

"So some days later, he comes back only to tell her that he's dating. Such a foul move.", he sighs, "Amidst all of this, I feel bad for the girl he is dating. I mean she's basically a rebound and probably doesn't even know. It was so wrong, he shouldn't have played it like that. How can he play with someone's feelings when he has practically gone through that himself?"

"When did this happen, Josh?", you ask in a quiet voice, "Do you know his name?"

Joshua ponders for a moment, of course he remembers, "This happened almost three years ago. If I had to be specific, hmm, I think it's around when you start dating as well.", he misses the way face pales, "I don't know his name but I have seen him once or twice while I was face timing Arong. Not sure if he's invited to this party."

'Found ya.'

Your phone buzzes with Jihoon's text and you look ahead to see him walking towards you. 

"That's him!", Joshua points out at Jihoon, "He's the guy we just talked about! Oh my god, why is he coming towards us?", he turns his head again to look at you, "Do you know him?"

It all makes sense now. Jihoon's agreement to date you, to him emphasising on keeping it hidden, to his non commitmental attitude. You've been played. You should have known.

Jihoon is in front of you now and all you tell Joshua before walking out is, "Stop Jihoon from following me."

The party was on Sunday and it's Friday when you decide that you won't be taking any more work, won't work except for the scheduled ones, to give yourself a long break. It feels rewarding after spending effort tirelessly throughout the year.

You're exhausted physically, mentally and unavailable emotionally.

Ending things with Jihoon was easy because there wasn't anything to end in the first place. 

You've met Arong, you've met her in the presence of Joshua, Soonyoung and Jihoon himself. This was specially to let Jihoon know what he has done, to hold  him accountable for something that doesn't remember. 

"I'm breaking up with you."

You aren't crying, not a single choke in your voice, eyes void of any emotion.

"Since you don't remember any of it, not even us being in some sort of relationship", your hands ball into a fist, gaze lowering, "And since none of it was ever real, I'm sure you're relieved."

"Y/N, please--"

"If you ever get your memories back, please don't make it an excuse to come see me. I don't want to see or talk to you ever again."

Jihoon grabs your hand once you turn to walk out, "I don't believe that I could do something like this. I'll get my memories back and when I do, let me--" 

"No don't.", Joshua steps up, yanking your arm out of his grip, "Didn't you hear what she said?"

"And who are you to come between us?"

"Someone who's does not play with feelings."

And all of a sudden there's a scuffle. Jihoon is grabbing the collar of the shirt Joshua's wearing and the latter tackles him down on the ground.

You watch in horror, as the two grown men indulge in a fight where the rest had to step in to separate them.

"The audacity, ridiculous!", Joshua huffs as you and Arong hold him.

"Says the one who doesn't know boundaries!", comes Jihoon's retort in Soonyoung's hold.

His eyes dart back at you, holding so much vulnerability that if you hadn't known the truth, he'd be in your arms by now.

"Y/N, I don't believe that it was all an act, that I hadn't fallen in love with you. It can't be, my head might not remember but my heart has definitely not forgotten you."

You chuckle bitterly, "That's delirium, Jihoon. You're busted and now making excuses. You had something important to tell me, you were on the phone with me when the accident happened. The way you had been acting before that, I'm sure you were going to break up with me. So save it. We're done. It's over."

"To the last wedding of the year!"

You raise your glass to the toast absentmindedly, waiting for the head of catering services to finish his speech.

"We're done with the headache.", Wonwoo leans in to speak into your ear.

A slap on his arm but you're laughing nonetheless, "You shouldn't be saying that."

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo enunciates, "They asked for the change of flower arrangement three times. You know how difficult it is to convince the suppliers at the last moment."

You give him a pat on his shoulder, "You did great as always though. Imagine being in Joshua's shoes, he had to add two tiers to the cake as a last moment request."

"He's a saint for agreeing to it, I'd never--"

"Wonu, that's our job, as long as it's not unrealistic, we'll try to fulfil it.", your tone is reprimanding.

"So we're leaving as planned on the weekend right?", he speaks over your shoulder, as you check off the items from the inventory list.

You both are now behind the barracks, wrapping things up, "Yes.", turning to look at him you thank him, "Also, sorry for crashing in the trip along with Junhee."

"Oh please, my girlfriend absolutely loves you, maybe more than me? And your house is literally on the way, so no sweat at all", Wonwoo laments, shaking his head, "Junhee has been feeling guilty about what happened. She blames herself, you met Jihoon because he was handling her aunt's case back then."

"It's not her fault. I'll talk to her, maybe she needs some lecture on how to not connect dots every time.", you frown, "And thanks. I'm glad that I got some people who are genuine even though my person wasn't."

All Wonwoo does is give you an empathetic smile.

Jihoon leaves no stones unturned.

"Doctor, I'm willing to do anything", his hands are clasped in desperation, "Please, help me get my memories back."

The doctor sighs, he's tired of seeing Jihoon's face every other day. The doctor gets the urgency but his patient is not understanding the implications.

"What do I need to do? Any brain exercising? New medicines? I'm ready to be a guinea pig for scientific research as well. Just name it, I'll do it if it brings my memories back."

His house is a mess. He's searching every corner, every shelf, every drawer but he gets nothing significant, nothing to get back his memories of you.

Soonyoung quietly watches over as Jihoon lays in slumber. He was finally able to get his friend to sleep, an attempt to free him from restlessness even if it's for limited time.

He can't bear to see his dear friend in this condition anymore and almost calls you but he doesn't because it's not his place. He only hopes for you both to be freed of despair.

The hunt goes on, Jihoon looks like a wreck, he is a wreck. Tries to hit his head again, thanks to Soonyoung's presence he's saved, tries unprescribed/unwarranted pills for memory loss and gets admitted to hospital. Vomits tons, loses appetite along with weight.

A hard slap lands across his face and Jihoon winces. Soonyoung had enough. He gives him a diary which Jihoon recognises as his own.

"I found this on top of the almirah, while you were admitted. You can search the obvious places. I haven't gone through it but it's your personal diary. Hopefully this will help."

And it certainly does. Maybe the accident had made him forget about his most important habit. He goes through it, consumes whatever he has written.

Each page hits a nerve, bringing back visions.

He now knows two things, he definitely liked Arong and found you annoying.

When Arong rejected him, he wasn't surprised. He knew Arong, he knew it was something she could pull. His heart wasn't bruised, it was his ego. He couldn't take it.

And you came into the picture, an annoying woman who likes him. Even though he's a rational lawyer, his practicality leaves him when goes by when decides to follow the classic 'to get over someone is to get under someone else'.

It was fine, he found you tolerable. But his initial plan of breaking up after dating a few months started to crumble when he found himself worrying about you, wanting to see you more and yearning for you more. He was rational after all, so he knew it was him changing. His feelings for you ran deeper than what he had for Arong.

He realised that he liked Arong but he loved you, he loves you now.

And as the realisation settles in again, into the present Jihoon, he falls apart.

You don't like the vibe, no you hate it. Your mother doesn't stop making your favourite dishes, your sister doesn't even throw banter, always agreeing with whatever you're suggesting for Christmas tree decoration and your father keeps on buying you presents discreetly which is also not so discreet.

And somehow, Seungkwan, your sister's boyfriend, is walking on eggshells whenever he's around you.

You miss the laughs, you miss the dramatics, you miss the goofiness.

"I'm not dying, y'all. This isn't the end of the world either."

Silence.

"Can we get back to normal? You all are being extraordinarily nice to me and every time you do so I think about the reason and it makes me think about him which is certainly what I don't wanna do."

You lower your gaze again, mind involuntarily going back to Jihoon, the way he fooled you within the entire span of your relationship. Your naive nature acts as a blindfold, causing you to trust people easily and you take pride in it because you are surrounded by good people who never took advantage of it but that's until Jihoon happened.

You gave him your heart, he crumpled upon it and your trust, he stomped on it.

"We're re-doing the deco of the Christmas tree, it's awful.", your sister, Eunha proclaims, "You just sit and watch."

You look at her, a smile gracing your lips and it's contagious, everyone is smiling.

And follows chaos, returns the banter and it's all over the place as the liveliness reappears. You watch it all with your lips curl up.

Christmas comes as fast and you're really excited, first because you know this year you're getting most gifts, second, like every time you won't have to leave the day after, you have a whole month to yourself, to be around your loved ones.

The house lights up in your favourite colours and you chirp around the house happily.

"So when are you going to propose?", you bump his shoulder, whispering into his ear as he prepares the batter for the cake.

Being the dramatic he is, Seungkwan gasps, glares and bumps back at you, "March, on her birthday. She'd like the ring right?"

"She'd love it, it's so beautiful. I can't wait to capture how ugly she'd look while crying.", you laugh at the thought.

"Hey! Watch it, she'll be beautiful even if she snots.", he retorts, "Our babies will be pretty."

"Oh my god, such a simp.", you fake a gag, "I'm gonna puke."

He suddenly pats your back, without looking at you and that somehow conveys that he's there for you.

As the night draws in, you excuse yourself and beeline into your room, locking the door, giving your parents and your sister and her boyfriend some time to themselves. They are bundled on the couch and the carpet in pairs sharing loving gazes and gentle touches.

As you lay on the bed, your favourite pillow starts to get stained with your tears. Your body shakes with sobs as you hide your face behind your palms.

You miss Jihoon.

You miss his voice, his laughs. You miss his silent affection, the way his gaze affirmed many unspoken words.

It's been four months since you called off things. And it hurts how easy it was for him to accept it all, the lack of contact says it all. You haven't blocked him anywhere and he hasn't tried reaching you either.

Why would he? You gifted him the only thing he wanted from you, a break up. Maybe love isn't the same for all, maybe it doesn't come in the same form.

There are repeated knocks on your door and you lay holding your breath, hoping whoever is on the other side thinks that you've fallen asleep and leaves.

The knocks don't stop, they only become frantic and you hear Eunha's distraught voice, "Y/N, you need to be out asap. Only you can stop dad please!"

What could have happened? You rush off to the bathroom to wash your face before opening the door.

You freeze watching the scene unfold.

Jihoon getting on his knees at the doorstep, bowing his head down in front of your seething father who's holding an umbrella, it's end pointed at him.

"Sir.", he calls your father calmly, bringing everyone's attention back to him.

"You must know what I have done to your daughter. I'm ready for whatever punishment you have for me."

He looks at you, as if his words are for you, "Beat me as much as you want, don't look at my face if it disgusts you but when your rage resides please hear me out. I won't leave until you listen to me. So if you want to get rid of me, you'll have to listen to me.", Jihoon gives a sad smile before grabbing the edge of the umbrella and resting it on his shoulder.

"Have you gone mad?", you scold him, "Get up."

He raises his hand to stop you from rushing towards him. He chooses to ignore your words, his gaze trained on your father.

"Are you contemplating, Sir?", he chortles, "Wasn't it bad enough, what I did to your daughter?"

You shake your head, closing your eyes. You know what Jihoon is doing, he's provoking your father and everyone else.

The rage that had subsided a bit, seems to reignite as your father tightens his grip on the object on his hand.

And you could only watch through it.

"She's the youngest of the household, we've raised her with love, pampered her to bits!"

"The last thing we want is to see her in tears that too on a day like this!"

"How dare you show your face here after breaking her heart in the worst way?"

And the words keep pouring in.

Jihoon is squeezing your arm into a tight grip, hissing in pain.

"What's your motive this time?", you ask while dabbing one of the bruises with disinfectant, particularly hard making him wince, "The Lee Jihoon, I know doesn't care about anyone except himself."

Jihoon's unwavering gaze does nothing to answer your queries and you refuse to meet his eyes.

"You can stay in my room for the night, leave by tomorrow morning, as early as possible."

Just as you get up to leave, he stands as well, blocking your path.

"I lost the insurance lawsuit case.", he says, searching for your eyes, "I ratted out my own clients."

"You came all the way here just to tell me this?"

He shakes his head down, with a small stretch of lips. When he looks up again you're shocked to see tears in his eyes.

"I got my memories back, Y/N.", his voice cracks, "All of them."

"Great.", you scoff in distaste, "I had already warned you to not make it an excuse to see me."

He kneels again, on both knees, "Would you please give me a chance to explain?"

You hate it to admit but you've never seen Jihoon this vulnerable. If anything, he's the type to carry pride and arrogance in his aura. He has never (his words) bowed to anyone and here he is doing it for the second time tonight.

"Jihoon, it doesn't matter anymore. You may not have loved me for even a moment, but I did, with all my heart. And I don't want to go through it all over again.", you say, urging him to be on his feet, "It won't change our past, but it has definitely changed the way I am going to perceive people now."

Jihoon lets out a sob and you freeze.

"I love you, Y/N.", he chokes out in words, as his sobs turn into cries, "That was what I was going to tell you on the day of the accident. I had been so ansty because I realised I was in love, I was going to come clean, I was going to confess."

"I just wanted a honesty in our relationship, you built it entirely around the other way. You didn't love me when we got together but I thought you did and this is the pressing wound, I have."

You don't let him speak further, after putting a very restless Jihoon to sleep on your bed, you ponder over a lot of things.

It's been over a month and the dynamics between you two has changed. When Jihoon begged and begged to give him a chance, to prove himself worthy of you, you denied at first. You had forgotten how persistent Jihoon could be, how convincing he can be.

"Our relationship will be on a trial basis. And there are rules.", you declare with a bored expression, "First, you can't tell anyone we're dating. Second, don't expect me to update you about anything, if I feel like you'll get to know, if not then you won't. Third, skinship is allowed only behind closed doors. You have six months and if within that I feel like you're worthy, we make it public or we part ways."

You give it a last try, to push his buttons and make him admit that he can't be bothered to do this. That he isn't the kind to work under conditions. You're sure that this is when he finally stops.

The corners of your lips twitch as you suppress your triumphant smile. By the way Jihoon stays silent, you're sure he's speechless. And it's just a matter of time he walks out, he walks away from your life.

"I agree with all of it." he says with sincerity, "For the following six months, I'll be the boyfriend, you want me to be. Mold me into anything, I'll take the shape of your like."

Your heart constricts, brain shots, stupid senses, you wanna scream. You swear you'll break him under your watch, it won't be a month and he'll be bailing out.

And Jihoon swears, he'll get you back, that this time, that he'll love you right.

It's Eunha's birthday and Seungkwan made you arrange a big event since she's gonna get proposed. 

You can't stress how nervous you are even after trying your best to suit the taste of everything to be of Eunha's liking along with calming Seungkwan who's about to puke anytime because of his anxiety hitting the roofs.

And now your sister's crying, her now fiancé is crying but you're bawling. It's so beautiful, the entire scene that it makes you a bit too emotional, so you go out to breathe some fresh air and calm your nerves.

You feel a presence beside you and suddenly your head is being downed on a shoulder.

"I have kept your favourite chocolates in your purse. Have them to calm your nerves, your cycle date is approaching. I have restocked the supplies.", Jihoon says, "And made sure that no one is watching us now."

You tangle your arm with his and watch the stars in awe.

"One of your aunts kept asking me if I am single since you introduced me as your friend.", he says, leaning his head against yours.

"What did you say?"

"That I am taken and so in love."

Your heart flutters.

Jihoon has become calmer than he already was. He does everything you say, no questions asked. He waits for you inside his car every night to escort you when you're done for the day. He texts you frequently, though it's mostly monologue without any expectations of getting a reply.

He sleeps on the same bed if you ask him to, he takes the couch when you don't. There's always an ask of consent if he wants a kiss.

Nothing is out of scope, he'll bring you the moon if you want it.

"You look the prettiest tonight, you always do.", he kisses the top of your head, "Thanks for wearing the brooch, I bought you."

"Jihoon", you look up, your face perched on his shoulder blade and gazes meeting, "Why do you always look at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you love me.", your hand slips into his and he encases it as if his life depends on it.

"I do love you.", comes his immediate assurance, "I may not use nicknames, not big on PDA and not be expressive on texts. But I love you and even though I was late to confess the last time I hope at some point I made you feel loved, made you see that guy who's usually not a fan of skinship initiated hugs and held hands, who hates amusement parks had planned every outing there because you like it, who doesn't like carrots either but picks them out of your plate so you don't have to feel guilty for throwing them."

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and do his.

It's true. Now as well, Jihoon doesn't text 'I love you's, doesn't use nicknames, nor does he gushes over. He's still silent, acts of service loud enough as his love language.

Jihoon looks away, exhaling sharply, "I'm sorry, I started dating to rebound. I think I'll regret this as long as I'm alive."

"I'm on a mission and you're making it impossible to follow through."

It's snowing. Jihoon, as usual, waits for you to wrap things up. Today, he's standing in a corner, inside the venue as snow pours outside.

You are almost done with stuffs when you spot him. He smiles, eyes forming slits as you walk up to him.

His presence, you think, feels like a fresh breath in the hustle. You're just about to greet him when--

"Y/N!", you turn back to hear the yell of your name only to find one of your colleagues, Ahin, rushing towards you, "You forgot to take the inventory list."

Jihoon takes it as que to leave your side. He's about to turn but freezes when Ahin asks, "Who's he?"

As practiced, as he's been doing it for months, he's about to answer, "I'm her friend--"

"Boyfriend.", you cut him off, taking the papers from her hand, "This is Jihoon, my boyfriend."

Ahin is shocked, Jihoon goes stiff and you bite your lips to suppress your laugh. You know tomorrow's gonna be chaos at work.

As Jihoon crosses the threshold of your apartment, he's pressed against the closed door.

Your lips press on his with intensity while his hands tangle in your hair. It's a full makeout session and you're pulling him into the bedroom.

"Since when am I your boyfriend?", there's a tease in his tone as he looks up from between your legs, his chin glistening from your juices, "I thought we still have a month left?"

"Consider this as an early promotion.", you grab a fistful of his hair and push back his mouth to work on cunt, "Let's love now, Ji. Let's be together and happy."

"Let's love then.", he dives in, his tongue parting your folds and finding your clit. He circles it slowly, then sucks gently, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

He continues lavishing attention on your clit, his tongue alternating between rapid flicks and slow, sensual licks. One hand slides up to caress your breast, teasing your nipple gently. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he pleasures you thoroughly.

"Ji, fuck!", your heads befalls on the pillows, eyes close shut.

His mouth is relentless, your pleasure his sole focus. He eats you out with abandon, his own hunger evident in the way he devours you. Your cries and whimpers only spur him on, his tongue never stopping its assault on your sensitive clit, "Fuck, you taste so good."

"Ji, can't hold back anymore", you're whimpering as the fisting on his hair tightens.

Upon hearing your breathy confession, Jihoon doubles his efforts, his tongue now moving in tight, rapid circles around your clit. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right to stimulate that perfect spot, "That's it, come for me. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue."

He can feel you tensing, your hips bucking against his face as you get closer to the edge. He growls around your sensitive flesh, the vibrations pushing you closer. He hooks his fingers deeper inside you, rubbing that spot mercilessly, "Now, Love now."

He continues to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you're a quivering mess beneath him. Only then does he pull back, his chin glistening with your arousal. He climbs up your body, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He smiles against your lips feeling your fingers working on the button on his trouser.

"You'll have to leave early tomorrow morning," he says, grabbing both of your hands, "This was for you to have a sound sleep."

"But--"

"You can have me all you want tomorrow, after you return.", he is already descending down the bed to bring warm washcloth to clean you up, "Promise."

"Ji, next month, I'll be gone for a week."

Jihoon hums, as he cleans you up gently, "A destination wedding right?"

You hum sleepily, "Do you wanna join? We could extend the stay and use it as a break."

"I'll check my schedule and let you know. It's a good idea actually."

"I love you, Ji.", your drowsiness amuses Jihoon, as he watches you fall into slumber, "Wanna brainstorm cases with you for the rest of my life."

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, listening to your soft snores, "And all I wanna do is be the best partner to you. I love you too, dearest darl+ing."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[gootarts]

as of 8/3, the most recently updated version of this post is here (it's a reblog of this exact post with more info added)

as a lot of you know, limbus company recently fired its CG illustrator for being a feminist, at 11 pm, via phone call, after a bunch of misogynists walked into the office earlier that day and demanded she be fired. on top of this, as per korean fans, her firing went against labor laws---in korea, you must have your dismissal in writing.

the korean fandom on twitter is, understandably, going scorched earth on project moon due to this. there's a lot currently going on to protest the decision, so i'm posting a list here of what's going on for those who want to limit their time on elon musk's $44 billion midlife crisis impulse purchase website (if you are on twitter, domuk is a good person to follow, as they translate important updates to english). a lot of the links are in korean, but generally they play nicely with machine translators. this should be current as of 8/2.

Statements condemning the decision have been issued by The Gyeonggi Youth Union and IT Union.

A press conference at the Gyeonggido Assembly will occur on 8/3, with lawmakers of the Gyeonggi province (where Project Moon is based) in attendance. This appears driven by the leader of the Gyeonggi Youth Union.

The vice chairman of the IT union--who has a good amount of experience with labor negotiations like these--has expressed strong support for the artist and is working to get media coverage due to the ongoing feminist witch hunts in the gaming industry. Project Moon isn't union to my knowledge, but he's noted that he's taken on nonunion companies such as Netmarble (largest mobile game dev in South Korea) by getting the issue in front of the National Assembly (Korea's congress).

Articles on the incident published in The Daily Labor News, Korean Daily, multiple articles on Hankyoreh (one of which made it to the print edition), and other news outlets.

Segments about the termination on the MBN 7 o' clock news and MBC's morning news

Comments by Youth Union leaders about looking into a loan made to Project Moon via Devsisters Ventures, a venture capital firm. Tax money from Gyeonggi province was invested in Devsisters in 2017, and in 2021, Devsisters gave money to Project Moon. The Gyeonggi Youth Union is asking why hard-earned tax money was indirectly given to a company who violates ESG (environmental, social and governance) principles.

Almost nonstop signage truck protests outside Project Moon's physical office during business hours until 8/22 or the company makes a statement. This occurs alongside a coordinated hashtag campaign to get the issue trending on Twitter in Korea. The signage campaign was crowd-funded in about 3 hours.

A full boycott of the Limbus Company app, on both mobile and PC (steam) platforms. Overseas fans are highly encouraged to participate, regardless if whether they're F2P or not. Not opening the app at all is arguably the biggest thing any one person can do to protest the decision, as the app logs the number of accounts that log on daily. For a new gacha such as Limbus, a high number of F2P daily active users, but a small number of paying users is often preferable to having a smaller userbase but more paying users. If the company sees the number of daily users remain stable, they will likely decide to wait out any backlash rather than apologize.

Digging up verified reviews from previous employees regarding the company's poor management practices

Due to the firing, the Leviathan artist has posted about poor working conditions when making the story. As per a bilingual speaker, they were working on a storyboard revision, and thought 'if I ran into the street right now and got hit by a car and died, I wouldn't have to keep working.' They contacted Project Moon because they didn't want their work to be like that, and proposed changes to serialization/reduction in amount of work per picture/to build up a buffer of finished images (they did not have any buffer while working on Leviathan to my knowledge). They were shut out, and had to suck it up and accept the situation.

Hamhampangpang has a 'shrine' section of the restaurant for fans to leave fan-created merch and other items. They also allow the fans to take this merch back if they can prove it's theirs. Fans are now doing just that.

To boost all of the above, a large number of Korean fanartists with thousands of followers have deleted their works and/or converted their accounts from fanart accounts to accounts supporting the protests. Many of them are bilingual, and they're where I got the majority of this information.

[note 1: there's a targeted english-language disinformation campaign by the website that started the hate mob. i have read the artist's tweets with machine translation, and they're talked about in the second hankyoreh article linked above: nowhere does she express any transphobic or similarly awful beliefs. likewise, be wary of any claims that she supported anything whose description makes you raise eyebrows--those claims are likely in reference to megalia, a korean feminist movement. for information on that, i'd recommend the NPR/BBC articles below and this google drive link of english-language scholarly papers on them. for the love of god don't get your information about a feminist movement from guys going on witch hunts for feminists.]

[note 2: i've seen a couple people argue that the firing was for the physical safety of the employees, citing the kyoani incident in japan. as per this korean fan, most fans there strongly do not believe this was the case. we have english-translated transcripts of the meeting between the mob and project moon; the threats the mob was making were to......brand project moon as a feminist company online. yes, really. male korean gamers aren't normal about feminism, and there's been an ongoing witch hunt for feminists in the industry since about 2016, something you see noted in both the labor union statements. both NPR and the BBC this phenomenon to gamergate, and i'd say it's a pretty apt comparison.]

let me know if anything needs correction or if anything should be added.

[respectthepetty]

Secret Relationships Colors

There is a lot of black in this show since everyone is holding onto secrets, so when the posters for this show were initially released, I questioned why they were PowerPuff Girls' colors, but as the show's twists and turns have been revealed, it all started to make pefect sense.

Blue - Seong Hyeon

Seong Hyeon is a loyal and intelligent man which are key traits of a Blue Boy.

The first time he rescued Daon, he was wearing blue, and he was brought to the team because he was a superstar in his previous department.

He is honest about his feelings and constantly makes sure that Daon knows how he feels even if he isn't physically there.

However, Blue Boys are prone to sadness as well, but they tend to bounce back with a little push from the right people.

And what's strange is Su Hyeon could've been a Blue Boy too, especially because their romanized names look so similar.

So just like Seong Hyeon, Su Hyeon could've been just as loyal to Daon in his blue.

But there is always something lingering around him, something boiling underneath the surface, something festering just beneath his casual exterior.

And when it's finally unleashed, it becomes a vicious monster.

Green - Su Hyeon

Green Guys, when at their best, are chill and peaceful, but at their worst, they are easily prone to jealously, they are envious, and they are rotten to the core.

Su Hyeon can act the part of a chill guy, but the moment he is provoked, the beast inside comes out just like when he was at the dinner and saw the man who assaulted Daon.

Or like when he dragged Daon inside his apartment and told him to never look at Seong Hyeon like that again.

And although I believed Su Hyeon didn't turn green until the night of the assault when he used the green bottle to attack the man in the green room, it actually started before then.

The gift Daon got Su Hyeon was green, so he must have known some small aspect of Su Hyeon's true color, right?

And he also had Su Hyeon in his phone under a green-colored contact card.

Which is ironic since Su Hyeon also has someone in his phone who lights up his screen in a decaying green color.

After all, he learned how to turn into a green monster from his father.

But the real monster in this story is the sneaky devil Su Hyeon made a deal with all those years ago.

Pink - Jaemin

Pink People are normally compassionate and friendly, but when they don't get their way, they can become overemotional and childish.

Much like Su Hyeon, Jaemin hides his true color well, but it's always been there, slowly suffocating him around his neck every time he felt his grip on Daon slipping.

And just like Su Hyeon, Daon was aware in some small way of Jaemin's true color because not only did Jaemin offer him pink coffee cups when they met in the first episode and pink plates to eat off of at his apartment, but just like Su Hyeon, Daon wanted to gift Jaemin the perfect color-coded gift.

The worst part of all of this is Jaemin really does love Daon, but pink is simply a tint of red, and we all know what Red Rascals are capable of when they lose control.

And perhaps Jaemin knows he has already lost because no matter how tight-lipped Daon may be, he always gives away who has his heart through his color, and I'm not referring to the color-coded gifts.

Daon

Daon wore a green jacket when he liked Su Hyeon, and Su Hyeon now wants to give him his ring. Daon has lived in an apartment with a pink exterior since he has become closer to Jaemin over the past seven years, and Jaemin gives him a scarf to wear. But now there is a new (blue) boy in town who wipes Daon's face with a blue cloth and reminds Daon of himself.

And not only did that Blue Boy color-coordinate outfits with Daon for work, but he came prepared to love Daon.

In all the exact ways he needs.

So let's see if Daon gives his Blue Boy the perfect color-coded gift or will this love allow Daon to finally embrace his own color instead of conforming to what everyone else wants (which I think is yellow since Jaemin has a yellow pillow, Daon was lit by yellow when Su Hyeon rescued him, and he has warm lighting when wearing blue plus countless other instances!).

But either way, I'll be delighted.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Hello! First of all, I want to say that I love your writing. I saw that you write for BIGBANG, and here’s my idea ;) The reader is a highly successful solo artist, as acclaimed as G-Dragon, and has been secretly dating him for a few months. Both try to keep everything under wraps, away from the spotlight... or at least they try. Over time, fans of both began to suspect the relationship. The reason? Instagram posts. You shared photos at specific locations: a cozy restaurant, an exclusive Chanel event... and just a few hours later, G-Dragon posted a selfie from the exact same place. Coincidence? Definitely not. But the real chaos started on a completely unexpected day. You were doing a relaxed live stream at his house, answering fan questions and talking about your new album. Everything was going well... until, out of nowhere, he walked into the room while you were still live, completely unaware and tired from work, not even realizing you were broadcasting. He greeted you with a sweet kiss before you could say anything, and the chat went wild, causing both of you to end up revealing the relationship.

Dating who?!

Character: Gdragon/Jiyong X fem!reader

Summary:✨️ As above✨️

warnings: none

One Fanon part where everything goes well

And one canon part...and oh boy we know how things end when kpop idols date

FANON

The first rule you both agreed on: no one finds out.

It wasn't even about shame or secrets—it was about peace. Being two of the most talked-about artists in South Korea meant headlines erupted over the smallest things: outfit choices, lyrics, friendships. So dating each other? That would be media meltdown. Paparazzi whiplash. Fanbase wars. TikTok theories for months.

And so, the game of quiet glances and sneaky night drives began.

The second rule? No Instagram giveaways.

You tried. You really did.

But apparently, your fanbases had the deductive skills of MI6. You posted a blurry, romantic shot of a candlelit table at a restaurant in Hannam-dong—captioned with a simple “mood.” Three hours later, Ji-Yong uploaded a mirror selfie from the men’s room of the same place. Different angle. Same red roses in the background. Fans noticed.

Then came the Chanel event in Paris. You didn’t post photos together, of course not. But yours showed the left wing of the venue. His? The right. Same lighting. Same minute.

One fan wrote on X:

“I don’t mean to be a delulu, but G-Dragon and [Y/N] are either the best coordinated strangers on earth or they’re literally dating.”

Over 2 million likes.

And yet, both of you denied nothing, confirmed nothing. It was kind of fun, actually—this cat-and-mouse game. A private world in plain sight.

Until the Tuesday livestream.

It wasn’t even meant to be dramatic. You were at his place, in his studio, promoting your upcoming album in an easy, stripped-down way. You had tea. You wore one of his hoodies, oversized and soft, with the sleeves swallowing your hands. Fans in the comments were loving it.

> “Are you at home?”

> “No way, that’s not your studio???”

> “Why do those shelves look familiar...”

> “You and G-Dragon got the same interior designer, huh?”

You laughed it off. “I’m borrowing a friend’s space while mine gets renovated. But anyway! Track five on the album is actually—”

The door creaked.

And there he was.

G-Dragon himself, eyes sleepy, shirt untucked, running a hand through his hair as he stepped in without looking up. “Babe, did you eat—”

He froze mid-step, seeing your face. You froze too.

He blinked at the open laptop camera. “…Are you live?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.He just sighed, chuckled softly, walked over, and pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead. “Hi, guys,” he mumbled like it was no big deal—like he wasn’t one of the most recognizable people in Asia casually appearing in your frame and confirming months of fan speculation with one sleepy gesture.

The chat exploded.

> “DID HE JUST CALL YOU BABE???”

> “I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW ITTTT”

> “REPLAY BUTTON WHERE”

> “not g-dragon being boyfriend-coded omg”

> “YALL IM SHAKING”

You covered your face in embarrassment. He laughed behind you and whispered, “Should we just tell them?”

You peeked through your fingers. “I guess there’s no hiding now.

”He winked at the camera. “Hi, I’m Ji-Yong. I’ve been dating this amazing woman for a few months now. Please be kind.”

And just like that, your soft secret turned into the world’s favorite headline.

The funny thing? Neither of you regretted it.

Turns out, being seen was kind of beautiful—especially when the person beside you made everything feel like home.

CANON

Nobody really expected you and G-Dragon to fall in love.

You weren’t supposed to.

You were both titans of the industry, solo artists with global reputations, designer deals, and fanbases who practically monitored your every breath. But somewhere between mutual respect and quiet moments behind closed doors, it happened. A look across the room during an awards afterparty. A shared drink in a hidden corner of an upscale lounge. A hand brushing yours that lingered just a little too long.

And suddenly, the most powerful secret in K-pop was born.

Months of subtle glances, hushed laughter, and carefully planned getaways. You had both become masters of misdirection—separate exits, private cars, burner phones. Your DMs were a graveyard of deleted messages. But even professionals slip.It started small.

An Instagram story of you at a dimly-lit Michelin-star restaurant in Itaewon. Soft jazz playing in the background, a wine glass in your hand.

Three hours later, G-Dragon posted a selfie from the same place. Different angle. Same wine. Same jazz.

Fans caught on fast.

Reddit threads bloomed like cherry blossoms in spring. TikToks with freeze-frames and arrows pointing out identical candle placements. Some fans were rooting for you, calling you the king and queen of Korean music. Others weren’t so nice.

The theories were manageable, though. Deniable. You and Jiyong brushed it off behind closed doors, joking about it under blankets while watching reruns of Reply 1988

Then came the Chanel event.

You were invited first. Posted a picture in front of a mirrored wall in a black velvet dress, the city lights blurred behind you.

He posted later, tagging no one, but standing in front of that same mirrored wall, half-smiling in a pinstripe suit.

By then, chaos was a simmer. The media hadn't touched it yet. You thought you had time.

But then that livestream happened.

You were tired. Relaxed. Sitting in his apartment, curled up on the couch with your new album playing softly in the background. You decided to go live—nothing fancy, just chatting with fans about your inspiration and the writing process.

The living room lights were dim. You looked soft and natural in a hoodie—his hoodie.At first, everything went fine. Fans were distracted by your music updates, asking about your upcoming music video and joking about how cozy the vibe looked. Then—he came in.

Jiyong entered the room, hair messy, shirt untucked, visibly exhausted from a long day. His eyes barely registered the phone propped up. He mumbled, “Hey, baby,” and kissed the top of your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze.

The chat exploded.

"WAIT."

"IS THAT GD??"

"THEY'RE DATING???"

"Y/N LOOKS LIKE THEY WANT TO DIE"

"SOMEONE SCREEN RECORD THIS NOW"

Jiyong blinked at the camera. Slowly. "…Oh. You're live?"

You scrambled to end it. Too late. Twitter had already caught fire.

The headlines the next morning were merciless:

> “G-Dragon and [Y/N]: K-pop’s Power Couple Exposed?”

> “Dispatch Was Right: A Timeline of Their Hidden Romance”

> “YG and [Your Company] Respond to Dating Scandal”

The companies were furious.

The higher-ups called emergency meetings. Public image teams panicked.

The decision was swift, brutal, clinical: breakup. Apology videos. No exceptions.You both fought it. You begged behind closed doors. But the industry didn’t care about love. It cared about contracts, money, and optics.

You filmed the apology videos separately. Black background. Neutral clothing. Voice trembling.

You were forced to say you had made “a poor decision that caused confusion to fans.”

Jiyong was made to say he "deeply respected [you] as an artist" but that the rumors were “misunderstandings.”

You didn’t speak for a while after that. What was there to say?

But one night—weeks later—you got a text from him.

> "Same place as our first date. 11PM. Come if you want."

You went.

He was waiting at your usual booth, eyes tired but soft. You sat down silently.

After a long moment, he reached across the table, fingers brushing yours.

“I know the whole world wants us to pretend we never happened,” he said, “but I don’t think I can lie about you forever.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

You squeezed his hand instead.

And this time, when the server brought the wine, G-Dragon pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. He posted it in real time.

And across the city, in a quiet apartment, you did the same.

Let them talk.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: nightmares, awko moments, kissing?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6!!!!! -part 7

-------------

The next morning when John woke up it was as if his life had changed filters, like if he went from dramatic cool to dramatic warm. There was a small pep in his step as he got out of bed. You were usually always asleep before 9AM so he decided he’d go buy the two of you breakfast from this small cafe you like not too far down the road, he knew when he was younger there was nothing like a good breakfast after a night of drinking.

On the other hand when you woke up you thought you’d dreamt it, the kiss couldn’t have been real. You’d never be that bold. But the nervous jitter in your belly at the thought of leaving your room was telling you all you needed to know. Along with the smile that’s been plastered on your face since the sound of your rattling windows from the heavy breeze woke you up.

Thankfully no hangover so therefore life’s great. You did desperately want to shower though after waking up in the same clothes you went out in. Which also meant it was going to have to be laundry day.

When he got back he picked up on the sound of your shower running and the steam that escaped beneath the door. He set the food in the kitchen unpacking what was his and yours, placing it in your usual seats at the table.

After a long shower filled with music and wasted water you dressed into comfortable home clothes, basically pajamas. Gathering the sheets and blankets from your

bed in a bear hug you begin to make your way to the laundry room, when you get there you drop everything on the floor with a huff.

“Doll?” John says from down the hallway as the sound of his footsteps grow closer

“Hey, goodmorning.” Shit shit shit.

“Morning, I got breakfast if you’re hungry.” He notices the way you slightly stiffen and how you don’t look back to greet him.

“Yeah actually, Thankyou.” Back to your shy nature he presumes, except he’s seemingly stepped out of his. There’s nothing John Price loves more than being on the same page as someone and if he’s assured of anything it is that you feel the same way he does.

“Okay, it’s on the table. I’ll eat when you do.” He says, walking away.

You let out a sigh of relief when he left, smiling to yourself at the girlish feelings so alive in you. When you finally made it to the kitchen you saw his silhouette outside. Even in the harsh weather he stood with a beanie and jacket on, lit cigar between his lips.

You give two knocks on the kitchen window catching his attention. When he notices you he snuffs the cigar into the small ashtray you bought for him and heads inside.

“You’re crazy for standing out there.” You say softly as you notice the effort it takes him to slide the door shut.

“I’ve done crazier.” He remarks.

You sit on the table as he does the same. You get that familiar warm feeling in your cheeks when you realize he got your exact order. Maybe it’s from the million times you’ve phone ordered it, regardless it’s sweet.

“So.” You say trying to see if he’ll be the one to bring it up.

“So?” He says with a smirk taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, I kissed you last night.” You have to talk about it, you could never be the one to just let it be.

“Did you?” He smirks.

“I did, and I want to know if that was okay with you or if I misread the room.” He laughs a little wondering if maybe he’s too subtle.

“No misreading was done love, next time I’d just appreciate a proper one.” The blush on your face gives him even more confidence.

“Well for your information I intended on giving you an actual kiss but my coordination had been slightly off.” You laugh as you say it cause although it’s embarrassing it’s very true.

“Well doll, there’ll be more opportunities I’m sure of it.”

“Oh Okay.” Lord save you.

“Besides your rendezvous, I wanted to know if I could have some pals over tomorrow. We have some work to do and I’m not quite keen on going to base.”

“Of course.”

—————

That night you decide to cook dinner, it’s only fair since he bought breakfast. You both agreed on pasta since you have all the ingredients for it. Although you told John you could cook alone he insisted he’d help as it’s the nice thing to do but truthfully he just wanted to be around you.

“So you grew up not too far from here?” He asks as you dice garlic.

“Yeah about an hour away.” You have your hair pulled back and are constantly moving the stray pieces from your face.

“Do you ever visit home?”

“Hah absolutely not, stay as far away from it as possible.” He doesn’t question it further but doesn’t miss the tone in your voice when you speak of it.

“I hear you talk to your sister a lot, are you close?” He loves hearing you talk, loves getting to know you even more.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend.” You smile, reminding yourself to call her and update her on these past two days.

“What about you, any siblings?” You ask looking over to him seeing that he’s done chopping the tomatoes and now just leans against the counter.

“No, only child.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You're very selfless.” It’s nice to hear from you. You’re the only thing he can imagine being selfish about.

“Years of being in the military will do that to you.”

He takes the pasta off the burner and drains it through the strainer. When he puts the empty pot back onto the burner you begin on the sauce.

“Will the same people I met when you first moved in be the ones coming?”

“Yeah.” He says while setting placemats and cutlery on the table.

You’re content in the low hum of radio music that fills in the silence amongst you two. He still stands near you but no words are being said. He watches the way you precisely add different ingredients one by one. When you're done you serve onto the plates for both of you.

“Thank You doll.”

“It was a team effort so thankyou.” You offer him a small smile before you both begin to eat. Conversation flows nicely between bites. He makes you laugh over dumb stories from his time in the military and you tell him embarrassing stories that happened in middle school. He feels normal, like a human when he’s around you. Like his hands are clean of all the violence he’s committed in his life.

When dinner is over you tackle the dishes together, you wash, he dries and puts away till there’s no more.

“Well I’ll see you Tomorrow then.” You say washing your hands and drying them on the kitchen towel.

“Goodnight love.” Before you can get the chance to turn down the hall to your room he’s calling out to you.

“Yeah?” He makes his way towards you and it’s slightly intimidating till he reaches you, positioning a gentle and slightly rough hand on your cheek before placing a long proper kiss to your lips. It’s electric now that you’re fully sober. Warm yet slightly needy. He pulls away and places one more on the corner of your lips like you had his.

“That’s a proper kiss doll.” He jests.

“I can definitely tell the difference.” He laughs a little, swiping a stray hair behind your ear.

“Sleep well.” He adds before heading back down the hall.

—————-

“And we kissed again last night too.” You talk into the phone while kicking your feet under the covers as you still lay in bed awake earlier than usual.

“You didn’t.” She couldn’t be happier for you. You worried her sometimes, she knew you never were outwardly going to look for someone new and since she lived so far away she couldn’t just check up on you when she wanted so she smiles widely as you tell her about your escapades.

“We did, I really like him, you know.” You really really do.

“I’m so happy for you.” She laughs but before you can respond there’s a knock at your door.

“Hold on, come in.” You slightly yell out. John opens the door taking notice of the phone by your ear.

“Sorry doll, I wanted to come tell you that my mates will be here soon, just a heads up.” You smile, giving him a thumbs up with your free hand.

If life loved John as much as he wished he’d be lying next to you by now. Instead he smiles at you with a wink and closes the door.

“That was him, did you hear him?” You laugh.

“If the voice matches the man, my sister you are lucky, not as lucky as him though, don’t forget that.”

You talk for a while longer before letting her get back to her busy life. When you get out of bed you hear deep voices enter your home traveling to where you assume would be John’s office.

You change into a simple outfit, certainly nothing extravagant, but also not pajamas. On your way to the kitchen you turn the heater on so it can warm up before it gets colder outside. You search the fridge wondering what to eat for breakfast and decide on eggs and toast.

—

“Captain, do you have a water bottle I can grab?” Gaz asks, they’re doing a lot of talking and debriefing on their last mission filing the paperwork they’ve all avoided.

“Em yeah in the fridge on the door.” The captain dismisses him trying to type in certain coordinates.

“Grab us one too.” The two other men say as Gaz gets up and leaves. When he makes it to the kitchen he notices you but doesn’t know what to say.

“Hello ma’am.” That’s all he could come up with.

“Jesus good god, hello gaz.” You jump in surprise at the unfamiliar yet not complete stranger.

“Sorry sorry.” You wave him off as he apologizes.

“I think I get startled too easily.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Just came to grab water.” He says motioning forward to your fridge.

“Yeah no problem.”

“You have a stunning kitchen by the way, really like the white cabinets.” He compliments.

“Really, when my ex and I got the house I had the old ones which were a grayish color removed and put these ones in, he hated it.” You laugh at the memory.

“A man with no taste. These are lovely and this lighting, it’s really beautiful.” You thank him again and go into mindless conversation about other remodeling projects you had done, he had questions after everything you said and lost track of time.

—

“Gaz, where were you when the explosion happened?” Price questions and looks up after a minute when there’s no response.

“He hasn’t come back yet, captain.” Soap says with a small grin. “I think he’s chatting it up with the lass out there.”

Their captain gets out of his chair. Silently leaving the room to go see what his sergeant is up to. As he approaches the kitchen he hears you laughing and relaxes his tense features before walking into the kitchen.

“So these used to be granite tiles till I changed them to white ones.” You say pointing at the backsplash above the counter.

“You could be an interior designer.” Gaz remarks and you smile.

“Sergeant, where should you be?” John uses the voice of a captain, one you're not very familiar with.

Both of you turn to look at him and you start to defend him.

“Sorry John, I kept him here, that’s my fault.” You say looking at him apologetically. He wants to tell you to stop making those eyes at him because they make him soft, too soft.

“Sergeant back to work.” He says as gaz bids you a smile and mouths Thank You, he quietly passes John to get back to his office.

“Is that your scary man voice?” You ask him with a small smirk.

“It can be a lot scarier.”

“I like it.” He’s weak for you, physically and emotionally this man craves you in ways that are impossible to comprehend.

“Careful.” Is all he says before walking away. He leans against the wall by his office out of view from anyone quickly adjusting his pants like a boy in puberty before getting back to work.

——

By the time they're done it’s nearly midnight. You're laying on the couch watching a movie when you hear the heavy footsteps of the men reach the kitchen and John’s in particular make their way to you.

“You’re still up?” He asks, looming over the back of the couch.

“Can’t sleep.”

“The winds are heavy and it’s a little late. I was wondering if they could stay the night? They’ll sleep in my room. If not doll please don’t be hesitant to let me know.” He asks quietly.

“Yeah that’s fine, where will you sleep?” You smile softly at him and his tired eyes.

“Out here.” You nod letting him know it’s okay before he leaves for a second to tell them. They all Thank You as you get up to grab extra blankets from your closet.

You bring them to John’s rooms seeing them all figuring out where and how they’re going to sleep. You ask John if you could talk to him real quick in the hallway and he quickly excuses himself.

“John, those men are too grown to sleep on the floor and to share a bed.” You quietly exclaim.

“Doll, I can assure you they’ve slept worse.”

“Men, you don’t see the issue. They’re not at work though this is their time to get good sleep.”

“Well I don’t have much more to offer.”

“One of them can sleep in my room, one on the air mattress and one of them can sleep on your bed.” He looks at you slightly confused.

“Where will you sleep?”

“With whoever sleeps in my bed.” He looks at you like you're crazy and is about to very loudly protest. “I'm kidding, we can share the couch I only need like one cushion to sleep on.” It’s true you sleep like a Rollie Pollie.

“Fine.” He doesn’t object to the idea at all which you're slightly surprised about and walks back into his room to tell them. Gaz is the one that gets sent out to you and you take him to your room.

“Here’s the remote, I’m sorry about all the pillows but the sheets are clean and the bathroom is right across the hall.” You smile at him and he thanks you for saving him from the hardwood floors. You laugh and take your favorite pillow, you say your goodnight and head to the living room.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” John says as you walk to the opposite side of the couch.

“I know.” You say settling into your usual spot. John throws one of the blankets you gave to him for the boys over you. At this point you're so tired you lay on your side letting whatever action movie John put on lull you to sleep.

You wake up suddenly sometime during the night the tv now off making it hard to see. You hear John murmuring things in his sleep getting louder by the second. You sit up tapping his arm to wake him and realize how warm he is. You reach to turn on the lamp beside the couch so you could actually see. Sweat begins to form on his brow line as his hands shake at his sides.

“John.” You whisper quietly, shaking his arm. He doesn’t wake so you do it again a little rougher. Still nothing.

“John.” You said a bit louder, finally waking him. His wide eyes look around as his left hand reaches to grip the hand you had on his arm.

“Doll?” He says squinting his eyes at you while trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah I’m here.” He continues to breathe roughly as you sit there. The way he refuses to meet your eyes makes you want to cry. He looks distressed and worn down.

“Bad dream.” He whispers gruffly.

You don’t need words to comfort him. You slide down the couch to lay opposite of how you had been before and place your head on his chest. He lifts his arm from beneath you and drapes it over your mid back. You listen intently to the rapid beat of his heart waiting for it to slow. After a while it does as his breath evens out. After a bit you drift back into sleep.

----------

thankyou for reading <3

comments and reposts are always appreciated.

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[hanasnx]

" AND THE SPIDERMAN IS ALWAYS HUNGRY " — venom.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place within the marvel's spider-man 2 game timeline. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ predator/prey dynamic + kink ノ kidnapping ノ stockholm syndrome ノ explicit sexual content ノ dubcon ノ finger coiling in hair mention ノ hands wrapped entirely around a torso mention ノ decided not to do tentacle porn for this one ノ p in v ノ objectification.

You can hear the thunder pound against the entrance to his lair, demanding passage, sending a great storm to tear down the walls and wet the earth it's denied. Your companion believes himself to be larger than life, and above the travesty of natural disasters. Its tendrils house its cave, keeping the harsh weather out—and you in.

Before your abduction, your last ditch effort to appeal for your own life was to befriend this... stranger. You're unsure of what it is, or who it claims to be, other than the English name it gave you: VENOM. Apparently, you've got a PhD for a reason, because you're still alive, yet he won't let you leave. Lab conditions are not ideal, but he fetches what you list rather intelligently. It makes you wonder how he knows so much about Earth, when he's informed you that he's not from here. You hesitate to call him an alien when he looks so humanoid. He's rather affectionate with you to an uncomfortable degree, rewarding your dedication to his cause with experimental touches you do your best to appropriately shy away from. You've seen what he does to those that disappoint him, and his form changes shape at will. Some nights you wake up in a cold sweat after he's speared you through your gut with his sharpened hand in your dreams.

"Your... meteorite- it's under ground. I've yet to pinpoint the exact location but—" you explain, and you hear the husky sub-vocals of interest, exhaling as he looms over your shoulder to eye the monitor you're typing on. His jaw opens, and that sickening tongue slithers out like a snake, wetting his glistening razor teeth. You gulp as you watch him cautiously, your stomach churning at the sight of him move in slow like a predator, so close to your body. The weight of his hand at the back of your chair alarms you, and your neck begins to ache from how your crane it to look up at him. "—I'll... have the... coordinates... by morning..." you trail your words. Subconsciously, you lean away from him, but what's an inch of space when your companion fills a room?

He hums appreciatively, which comes out as a rumbling growl. When you were first captured, such a sound might've caused you to tremble, but you're a little more used to him now, so you avert your eyes to stare at the screen, the only brightness in the room. The weight from your chair shifts, and you tense. You don't dare move a muscle, and your eyes brim with moisture from refusing to blink. A palm sets on your shoulder, it's heavy and there's no warmth to it. Vaguely damp, it bleeds a cold through the material of your shirt and a strength pulls you in its direction. For a second—a second—you question if you should've revealed you might've outlived your usefulness. The gruff hum nears, and a presence ventures impossibly closer, and out of instinct you shy away, pinching your opposite shoulder up to angle your head, protecting your neck. A wet and gummy sensation presses its pad to your cheek, and the quietest squeak of disgust escapes you, narrowing your closest eye as it travels up to leave a slimy trail in its wake. His tongue licks up your jaw to your temple, matting up the hair it touches.

Air cools the sodden path he left on you, and when he seems pleased with himself, he leaves you. A powerful shudder shoots up your spine and with a shaking hand you wipe off the evidence of his affection with your shirt sleeve.

Now, you don't shy away nearly as much. His plans have been delayed, but you've come to look forward to his little signs of endearment towards you. A finger that coils a lock of your hair around it, a bundle of your things he retrieved from your apartment for you, even going as far as to use his strength to raise your arm and twirl you like a little doll. Small actions that are evident of some strain of humanity, however buried deep inside underneath his toothy exterior.

After you realize your bravery, you come to ask him for more attention. You run a hand down his cheek, trace a fang, invite yourself onto his lap... He takes note of your bids.

Swapping pleasure becomes as easy as sharing breath, and love-making with him is nothing short of violent. Large hands encircle your torso entirely, claws bluntly dig into soft flesh, prickling your skin in a most delicious way as a rod he fashioned for you divvies up your insides. Your palms are flat on a surface, bracing his weight as he pushes into you. As if he did it on purpose, the phallic shape he formed has a girth a size too big, watching with intrigued interest at how your little pleasure hole struggles when stuffed full. He curls his great body forward, that slippery tongue's tip slotting into the dip of your tailbone, and tracing the line up your spine. You shiver, your palm coming to one of his fingers on your waist to wrap entirely around it.

Like a weightless toy, Venom handles you effortlessly, pushing and pulling you to seat fully on his length just as he offers his hips to you. The noises you make is like music to him, pressing his chest to you so he can be as close to your symphony as possible. You turn your head, brows pinched and pretty countenance skewed, panting like a little desperate animal. A delicate sheen of sweat layers your skin, the taste of it intoxicates him, and he wetly licks another stripe on your neck, molding it against your jawline until you angle your head. Your own hangs out of your mouth, chasing his, and he obliges you, entwining his coiling tip around yours just as he sheathes, forcing a choked sound out of your throat.

Now that you've invited him, he advances, the girth of his tongue causing your jaw to ache from being pried open as he fills another one of your holes. That crooked grin doesn't bother you as milky white eyes observe your strange and addicting behavior, feeding off the chemical in the brain he's inhabiting.

[777sturn]

𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐜hris 𝐬turniolo . . .

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢

❛ you and chris always compete in car races. on and off the tracks you two always clashed heads because of jealousy and envy. the wins would go back and forth between you two and he had enough of it, he wanted the win. so, he finds a way to make you lose. ❜

˖ ࣪⊹ pairing. racer!chris x fem!reader

⊹₊ ⋆ warning(s). smut, mature language, fingering (f receiving), boob play, angst, unprotected rough sex, p in v, degrading (a little)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ jules’ message. this has been marinating in my drafts since the summer and it was originally supposed to be a matt one shot BUT chris got his license sooo… here it is! also i barely know anything about cars, only the one suki drives in 2f2f so PLEASE bare with me. anywho, STAY FREAKY

it was pretty late at night as you were at the race track. you were currently infront of your hot pink race car, double-checking the engine for the race that was taking place tomorrow. the pink embellishment and the white details perfectly fit your aesthetic. you hum to yourself as you take out the dipstick to check the oil.

suddenly, your peaceful aura was soon interrupted with the familiar revving from none other than chris sturniolo— your enemy on and off the track. you let out a groan and watched as his dark blue porsche pull up beside your car. you could practically see that stupid smirk he always wore through his tinted windows.

you threw your matching pink car towel over your shoulder before crossing your arms and eyeing him down as he stepped out his car. as soon as you see his camo pants, you immediately roll your eyes.

“quit poutin’,” he mumbles in a raspy tone, “save it for tomorrow.”

“i’m gonna be smiling tomorrow, actually.” you correct him, turning back to face your engine. he let’s out a scoff as he steps closer to you and your vehicle.

“you gotta let me win, ma.” he whispers, leaning against the open hood of your car as he watched you inspect the engine, “i just know that there’s gonna be hot chicks in the stands and i wanna show off that bad boy,” he hums, nodding towards the direction of his car.

you give him a look and shake your head, “and i know there’s gonna be the sexiest guys on the planet in the stands too. and my car isn’t the only thing i wanna show off.”

chris rolls his eyes at your snarky comment before his eyes roamed down your body— all the way from your white tube top to your denim skirt that hugged your curves perfectly before dangerously stopping right below your ass. he clicks his tongue before nodding, “aight” he mumbles before moving off your car to stand behind you. “your oil is low.” he hums, reaching over to grab the dipstick from your hand.

“no it’s not.” you mumble, “i literally got it changed last week.”

chris just shrugs and takes the towel off your shoulder— his fingers slightly lingering on your bare skin for a little bit longer than he intended to. he gently dabs the stick on the towel to check the crevices, “it’s low.” he repeats, putting the dipstick back into it’s place, “looks like you’re gonna lose, princess.” he taunts as he swung the towel back on your shoulder before his hands found their way to your waist.

“i’ll be fine.” you huff, as you look up at him, “and i will win.”

“mhm.” he hums nonchalantly, “your car won’t turn on now.” he tests, the stupid smirk returning to his lips.

“says who?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“me,” he answers, mocking your exact tone. chris then steps away from you before swinging open the driver’s door. he was now met with a baby pink leather interior that coordinated with the design on the exterior of your car, “it looks like a fucking toddler threw up in here.” he mumbles as he slides into the driver’s seat.

you cross your arms as you stand in front of the door, “don’t drive my car.” you mutter.

“i can’t.” he reminds, pressing the button that was supposed to start your car, but nothing happened, “your battery or engine is dead and the oil is low.” he points out, scoffing.

“are you deadass?” you groan in annoyance.

chris nods and smirks as he motions his fingers towards him, gesturing you to come closer to take a look at the bright pink warning symbols yourself. subconsciously, your hand was now planted on his thigh to support yourself so you could see the warning symbols.

he chuckles lowly as his left hand traveled to your ass, gently smacking it, “see. you can’t even compete, baby.”

“i’ll find a way.” you say with determination.

“i won’t let you,” he mumbles, pulling you into his lap fully. you were now face to face as you straddled him, “so fuckin’ stubborn—just give up, ma.”

you could feel chris harden beneath you as you adjust yourself, his cock slightly brushing against your now wet panties, “i’m not gonna be the loser for this race, chris.” you say, your voice slightly shaky.

he groaned in annoyance as he threw his head against the pink headrest. both of his hands trailed up and down your thighs, occasionally his fingers teasing the sexy lace of your underwear. your eyes dart to his adams apple, bobbing ever -so-slightly as his fingers inched closer to your core.

he delicately brushed his ring and middle finger against your clothed clit, “let me win, baby.” he whispers once more, as he meets your wetness seeping through, “damn. is this what it takes?” he scoffs, teasing you some more. a soft whimper escapes your glossed lips in response.

“stay quiet f’me,” he mutters, “let me figure that out myself, yeah?” he finally slipped both of his fingers into your panties, humming in approval as he feels the soft skin of your pussy. he pushed one finger at a time into your wet folds in a dangerously slow manner.

“fuck…” you breathe out, leaning your back against the steering wheel— the pink embellishment of the honda logo pressed into your back, creating an indent through your top. another moan came out as you felt him curl his fingers inside you before pumping in a deliberate and sensual motion, “you’re so fuckin’…” you trail off, completely melting in his arms.

“so fuckin’ what?” chris teases, the pace of his pumping began to quicken , “so fuckin’ right? ‘cause yeah, i am.” he mumbles, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to leave hot and open mouthed kisses on your cold skin.

chris was feeding into your soft moans and whimpers, biting and sucking on your neck in response to the noises. his other hand slipped under your tube top to meet your bare chest. he hummed against your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine before roughly grazing his thumb on your hardened nipple.

“please chris…” you whine, as his forefinger and thumb rolled and pinched the sensitive skin of your breast. your head was thrown back as you bucked your hips against his slender fingers before subconsciously grinding on them— basically pleading for more, “i’m gonna cum.”

“holy shit.” he scoffs at your desperation and the arousal that coated his fingers. he then slowly removedhis fingers from inside you and brought them into his own mouth, “christ. you taste like a fucking loser.” he shakes his head, pinching your nipple once more.

“shut the fuck… up.” you say breathlessly, before beginning to roll your hips against his hard and throbbing cock.

“geez ma,” he groans, “i didn’t expect for you to basically be begging for my dick.” he then unzips his camo pants and pulled down his boxers— his rockhard dick sprung out.

you didn’t hesistate one bit, you slipped off your panties with the help of chris as your freshly done nails dug into chris’ back, “so desperate, it’s pathetic.” he mumbles as he began to fuck you while you sat on his lap, “you’re gonna take it raw, baby.” he groaned.

you gasp as you felt his length slip through your wet and already sore folds. you bounced up and down on his cock, needily while the grip on his disheveled hair tightened, “you’re gonna let me win now huh?” chris moaned, his hands squeezing your ass in response to your hands tugging at his hair.

“fine—” you whine, “i don’t care anymore… just please. fuck…”

he throws his head back once more, a tired smirk played at his lips, “that’s what i thought. i’m winning that shit fair and swear, baby.”

© 777sturn

[mintyys-blog]

I literally made your work "anywhere to see you" my reward after an exam lmoa. Your work is that good. I am hopping that there will be a part 3 of "anywhere to see you", please🙏🥺

ANYWHERE TO SEE YOU 3 — sinister mark X reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

PART ONE. PART TWO.

WARNINGS: abuse, violence, implied sex.

A month passed, but it felt like a lifetime.

The days blurred together, each one an endless cycle of silence and suffocation. You barely left the bed. The weight of your own grief crushed you, pressing down on your chest until it was hard to breathe.

Mark didn’t bring it up. He never spoke about the baby, never acknowledged the way your hand sometimes drifted to your stomach, as if you could still feel the life that had once been there. It was as if, to him, it had never existed at all.

At first, he gave you space. You weren’t sure if it was out of guilt or some twisted attempt at mercy. But soon enough, the space between you began to close.

It started with little things—sitting beside you in bed, resting a hand on your thigh, brushing your hair behind your ear. Touches meant to remind you that you were still his. That no matter what, nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And you hated him for it.

Yet, when he pulled you into his arms at night, you didn’t resist. When he kissed you, when he touched you, you let him. Because fighting was pointless. Because what else did you have?

Because if you gave in, at least you could pretend—just for a moment—that you weren’t completely alone.

The grief, the trauma, the manipulation—it all became too much. Something inside you shifted. The fear that once ruled you dulled into something else, something colder.

You stopped flinching when he touched you. Stopped fighting when he pulled you close at night. Stopped reacting to his cruel words, his taunts, his mocking smirks.

And that’s when you realized something. He liked your pain. He thrived on it. So you stopped giving him what he wanted.

You became quiet. Unfeeling. Detached. You played the part of the obedient wife, letting him think he had finally broken you. Letting him believe that you had accepted this life.

And when his guard lowered, when he stopped watching your every move, you got to work.

It wasn’t easy. The first time, you had Rudy’s guidance, his expertise. Now, you had nothing but memory and desperation. You spent your nights studying the remnants of the broken device, piecing together every shattered part, rewiring every circuit, trying to remember how it worked.

Mark barely noticed. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Maybe he wanted you to have something to occupy yourself with. Maybe he thought it was harmless. Maybe he thought you were too far gone to even consider leaving. He had no idea.

You had expected Mark to lash out, to destroy the device the moment he caught you. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, watching as the portal crackled to life, his expression unreadable. You barely had time to register what was happening before he moved—grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you toward him.

“You really thought you could leave me?” His voice was almost amused, but there was something dark in his eyes. Something hungry. Your stomach twisted. You had accounted for so many things—how long it would take to get the device working, the energy needed to stabilize it, the exact coordinates to bring you home. But you had never expected this.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his grip tightening as his other hand hovered over the controls. “But we are.”

You froze. “We?” He smirked. “You wanted to go back, right? Back to that perfect little life you lost? Well… let’s go see it for ourselves.” Panic surged through you. “No. Mark, you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly.” He pressed a button before you could react. The machine whirred, the energy around you distorting. Your heart pounded as reality itself seemed to split apart. And then everything went white. A moment later, you hit the ground hard. The air was different—cleaner, lighter. The distant hum of traffic and life filled your ears. You weren’t in that cold, empty house anymore. You were— No. Your chest tightened as you looked up, recognizing the street, the houses, the skyline. He had done it. You were home. But not alone.

Mark stood beside you, stretching as if he had just woken from a long nap. His yellow and black suit was stained with dried blood, his presence radiating danger. And then, he turned to you, grinning. “Let’s go say hello, shall we?”

You couldn’t breathe. This was your world. Your real world. And yet, it didn’t feel like home anymore—not with him standing beside you. Your hands clenched into fists as you struggled to stay calm. Mark—your Mark—was gone. Your daughter was gone. But Debbie… Oliver…

They were still here. Mark sighed, cracking his neck as he took in his surroundings. “Gotta say, it’s cleaner than my world,” he muttered. Then he glanced at you, smirking. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not happy to be home?” You swallowed back your fear. “Why did you bring us here?”

His smirk widened. “I wanted to see it for myself.” He took a step toward you, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “The life you loved so much. The one you were so desperate to get back to.” His fingers brushed against your chin, his touch almost… gentle. “I want to see what made you fight so hard to leave me.” You jerked away, glaring at him. “You think you can just walk in and take his place?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh, I know I can’t. But it’s gonna be fun watching them realize you brought home the wrong Mark.”

Your stomach dropped. Debbie. Oliver. If they saw him—if they thought for even a second that their Mark had come back— You turned sharply, breaking into a run. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to get to them before he did. Before they saw that monster wearing your husband’s face. But you barely made it a few steps before Mark appeared in front of you, moving faster than you could react.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, grabbing your wrist. His grip was firm, but not painful. Not yet. “I think we should go together.” Terror clawed at your throat. “Mark—” His gaze darkened, fingers tightening just enough to make you wince. “I suggest you stop fighting me.” A lump formed in your throat. He wasn’t going to let you go. He wasn’t going to stop. And the worst part? A twisted, broken part of you already knew—he was right. This wasn’t going to be a happy reunion. It was going to be a nightmare.

You watched in horror as he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the fit of your Mark’s old clothes. A dark blue shirt. A pair of jeans that hugged him just right. His hair tousled in a way that made your heart ache. For a split second, he looked exactly like your husband.

But the moment he turned to you, grinning like the devil himself, the illusion shattered. “Let’s go say hi to dear ol’ Mom,” he said, rolling his shoulders as if he were preparing for a performance.

You felt sick. “You can’t do this,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice. His brow lifted. “Why not?” “Because—” Your throat tightened. “She thinks her son is dead.” His smirk widened. “Then won’t she be thrilled to see me?”

You clenched your fists. “You’re not him.” Mark sighed, shaking his head like you were being difficult. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He stalked toward you, and despite everything, you flinched. He didn’t miss it. “I am him. Just… better.” You glared up at him, hating the way he still made your chest tighten. “You’re a monster!” He leaned in close, his breath warm against your cheek. “And yet, you still let me touch you.” Your stomach twisted. He knew exactly what he was doing—how to push your buttons, how to make you react. “You let me undress you, bend you over…” you slapped him. He didn’t flinch. “Shut up, I was.. desperate back then. Desperate to believe you could love me.”

Gritting your teeth, you stepped back, forcing steel into your spine. “You’re wasting your time. Debbie will never believe it’s you.” Mark tilted his head, amused. “You sure about that?”

A knock echoed from the front door. Your blood ran cold. Debbie. You didn’t even realize you’d moved until Mark grabbed your wrist, yanking you back before you could reach the door first.

“Now, now,” he murmured, his grip bruising. “Let’s not keep Mom waiting.” And with that, he pulled the door open. Debbie stood frozen on the porch, keys in her hand, eyes wide. The world held its breath. “Mark…?” she whispered. And then she burst into tears.

Debbie stood frozen in the doorway, eyes filled with disbelief and tears. She reached out toward him, her voice barely a whisper. “Mark…? Is it really you? I—I thought… I thought you were gone…”

You wanted to scream, to tell her to run, to get away from him before it was too late. But you couldn’t. Not while Mark was standing there, his arm tightly wrapped around you as if to stake his claim. The cold reality hit you with the force of a sledgehammer—Debbie, sweet, loving Debbie, would be nothing more than a casualty in his sick game.

You could already see the gears turning in Mark’s head. He was savoring this moment, enjoying her confusion, the way she was looking at him like he was her son—her Mark.

You didn’t dare move. If you said anything, he’d kill her. It wasn’t even a question. Mark’s eyes flicked over to you, his smirk twisting into something darker. He could see the fear in your eyes. But instead of offering any comfort or relief, he made sure to tighten his grip on you, ensuring you knew he was in control.

“Mom,” he said, his voice dripping with fake warmth, “It’s been so long. I know you’ve been through a lot. But I’m back. And this time, I’m not leaving.”

Debbie took a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling as she reached for him, her eyes wide with emotion. “But how? How is this possible? We—” Her voice cracked, and she looked at you, her eyes darting back and forth between you and this stranger who looked like her son. “Y/N… is this really him? You—”

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t let her know what was happening. Your voice betrayed you, choked with emotion as you watched her unravel in front of you. Mark’s hand shot out, cupping her cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. “Of course it’s me, Mom. Who else would it be?”

Debbie hesitated for a moment, before wrapping her arms around him, clinging to him as if she were afraid he might vanish again. She sobbed into his shoulder, muttering about how she never thought she’d see him again, how she’d prayed for him to come back, how she couldn’t believe it.

You stood there, paralyzed. Part of you wanted to push her away from him, wanted to yell at her to stop, to run. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk her life. Mark’s eyes locked onto you, and he saw your struggle. He loved it. The control, the power. It was what he lived for.

“Come on, Mom,” he said, gently pulling away from her embrace, though his hands still rested on her arms. “Let’s go inside. You must have a million questions. I’ll explain everything.” He glanced back at you. “Won’t we, Y/N?” His voice was dripping with mock sweetness.

Your heart raced, a sick feeling rising in your chest as he pulled Debbie into the house. You knew what he wanted—to break her, to make her see that this version of Mark was him. You followed, helpless, every step feeling like it could be your last. Debbie sat down at the kitchen table, wiping her eyes, still in shock. Mark leaned against the counter, arms crossed, the image of her Mark, but with a dangerous, almost predatory gleam in his eyes.

“You’ve been keeping up the house?” he asked, voice casual, as if this was some ordinary conversation. Debbie nodded, still trying to process the situation. “I—yes. I didn’t know what else to do after… after what happened. I thought I’d lost both of you. But now—this, Mark, this is impossible. I don’t understand…”

Mark smiled, a cruel smile, before stepping toward her, his voice lowering, almost a whisper. “I know, Mom. It’s a lot to take in. But I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere.” He glanced at you once more, his smirk deepening as he saw your tense posture. “And neither is Y/N. We’re going to fix things. Together.”

Debbie turned to look at you, her face softening in confusion and concern. “Y/N, is this really… okay? Is this really Mark?” You didn’t know how to answer. You were trapped between the past and this twisted version of your life. Between your love for Mark and the reality of what he had become. And you couldn’t tell her the truth—not yet.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice breaking. The weight of the situation was too much to bear, and you barely kept yourself from falling apart in front of them both.

Mark’s eyes gleamed. He could feel your hesitation, your pain. He loved it. He loved knowing how much control he had over you. Debbie stared at you, waiting for an explanation, but you couldn’t give it to her. Instead, you just kept quiet, trapped between the love you once had and the monster standing before you. Debbie left reluctantly, still unable to fully process everything she had just witnessed. The warmth of the house, the laughter, the sight of her son standing there, alive— it was all too much. But the conversation had gone smoothly, or at least, she tried to convince herself it had. Mark had answered her questions, expertly steering the conversation away from anything too difficult, keeping her distracted with stories of what he’d been through. For a brief moment, she even managed to laugh, to forget the painful memories of the past.

As the night settled in, Debbie finally made her way toward the door, her steps slow but steady, her heart still heavy with the strange mixture of joy and uncertainty. “I’ll call Cecil tomorrow,” she said as she opened the door, her voice a little quieter than before. “Let him know you’re back. I’m sure he’ll want to see you, Mark.”

Mark’s smile faltered for just a moment, his jaw clenching tightly as his eyes narrowed. But then, he plastered that same charming grin back on his face, the mask of warmth settling back into place.

“Of course, Mom,” he said smoothly, walking over to her and giving her a hug. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Debbie smiled, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. “I’ll let him know first thing in the morning. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too,” Mark replied, his voice still soft and reassuring as he gave her a final, lingering look. With that, Debbie left, and the door clicked shut behind her. The moment it did, the illusion shattered. Mark’s expression twisted into something far darker, and he exhaled sharply, letting the tension in his body seep out. He turned to face you, his eyes cold and calculating. “You know, I was so close to losing it back there,” he muttered, his fingers brushing the back of his neck. He seemed to shake off the discomfort of pretending to be the son she wanted him to be. His eyes met yours, his gaze hardening.

“Now, we can get back to business,” Mark said, the grin slipping into something dangerous. “You know what I need.” You could feel your heart rate pick up as you backed away slightly, a cold knot of dread forming in your stomach. His voice grew darker, and you knew what was coming.

He stepped closer, his boots echoing through the silent house. “I want you to tell me where your Mark is buried. You see, Cecil is going to start investigating soon. It’s only a matter of time before he starts poking around your precious Mark’s grave, and I don’t think you want that.”

You froze, your body stiffening in a mixture of fear and defiance. You’d never been more certain about anything in your life—you weren’t going to let him ruin Mark’s memory. “I’m not telling you that,” you snapped, your voice low but steady. “I won’t let you do that to him. Not after everything.”

Mark’s smirk only widened, though there was an edge of anger behind it. “Oh, but you will,” he said with an eerie calmness, “Because I’m not giving you a choice.”

He stepped closer, his presence looming over you. There was no hiding the malicious intent behind his eyes, no denying the dark excitement that danced in them. “You know what will happen if you don’t cooperate. I’ll make you regret it. You’ve seen me do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

The thought of him digging into Mark’s grave, desecrating everything you held dear about the man you loved, made your stomach churn with disgust. But you refused to show weakness. “I will never tell you,” you whispered harshly. “Not ever. You can’t control me, Mark. Not anymore.” For a moment, Mark stood there, his fists clenching at his sides. Then, to your surprise, he laughed. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel at ease, but a cold, bitter sound that echoed through the room.

“You think you have a choice? You’re still under my control, Y/N. Don’t forget that.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And if you don’t cooperate, I’ll make sure you regret it. Just like I did before.” You wanted to push him away, to scream at him to leave, but the weight of his words kept you rooted in place. You were trapped. Mark straightened up, running a hand through his hair as he turned to leave. “Sleep on it,” he muttered, his voice dark and final. “You’ll come around eventually.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and you were left standing alone, your heart pounding, the bitter taste of helplessness lingering on your tongue. You stumbled into the bedroom, your legs weak beneath you, your mind reeling from the weight of what had just happened. Your breaths came out in short, ragged gasps as you shut the door behind you, locking it like it would somehow keep him out. But you knew better. Locks didn’t stop him. Nothing did.

Your body moved on its own, drawn to the closet before you even realized what you were doing. You yanked open the doors, hands trembling as you reached inside, fingers brushing against the fabric of his old clothes. They still smelled like him—faint, but there. The scent of home, of safety, of the man who had loved you. The man you lost. A broken sob ripped through you as you clutched the shirt to your chest, sinking to the floor. “Mark…” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting, as you curled into yourself, burying your face in the fabric.

“I made a mistake,” you choked out. “I—I should have never let him take me. I should have fought harder. I should have died with you.” The weight of your grief pressed down on you like an anchor, suffocating, unrelenting. You had tried to survive, to endure. But at what cost? You had let him in. And now, Mark—your Mark—was being replaced. His mother, his little brother, the people he loved—would they be next?

Sinister Mark was capable of horrors you couldn’t even begin to fathom. You had seen his cruelty firsthand, felt it in the way he toyed with you, manipulated you, broke you. And now you had led him here. You had given him a chance to slip into this world, to put on your Mark’s face and pretend.

Would he kill them once he got bored? Would he snap Debbie’s neck the same way he had snapped yours in his world? Would he crush Oliver under his boot without a second thought? A violent shiver wracked your body at the thought. You couldn’t let that happen. You wouldn’t let that happen. But how? You were nothing to him. Just a possession. Just something he owned.

Your grip on Mark’s shirt tightened as you sobbed harder, rocking back and forth, desperation clawing at your chest. You needed to do something. But what? How do you stop a monster? The door creaked open.

You froze, your breath hitching as you clutched Mark’s shirt tighter, your fingers curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. His presence filled the room, suffocating and inescapable.

“You know,” Sinister Mark drawled, his voice laced with amusement, “I had a feeling you’d come here.” You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your throat was too tight, your body too tense, your heart slamming against your ribs like it was trying to break free. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Closer. He crouched down in front of you, and you felt his fingers brush against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“Crying over a corpse?” he mocked. “That’s pathetic, even for you.” Your body trembled, but you forced yourself to look at him. And there he was—your husband’s face. But the eyes were wrong. Cold. Empty. You wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Tear him apart. But you did nothing. Because he would win. He always won.

“Where is he buried?” he asked, his voice softer this time, but no less dangerous. You shook your head. “I won’t tell you.” His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t asking.” Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken threats. Then, to your horror, he smiled. “That’s fine,” he said, standing up. “I’ll just ask Debbie.”

Your blood ran cold. “No!” you gasped, scrambling to your feet, grabbing his arm like you could physically hold him back. “Mark, please—”

His head tilted slightly, gaze flicking to where your fingers clung to his sleeve. Something dark flashed across his face. You barely had time to react before he moved. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked you forward, slamming you against the closet door. You barely bit back a cry, your hands flying up to grip his wrist.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he murmured, his face inches from yours. “You never were.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You would not let him see you break. His grip loosened, but only slightly. He studied you for a long moment, like he was searching for something in your face. Then, to your utter confusion, he sighed.

“This would be easier if you just accepted it.” Your stomach twisted. “Accepted what?” you whispered. His thumb traced your cheek, and for a second—just a second—his touch was almost gentle.

“That you’re mine.” Your breath caught in your throat. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Now tell me where he’s buried, or I’ll rip the answer out of your mother-in-law myself.”

Your heart pounded so hard you swore he could hear it.

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t—

But deep down, you knew he would.

Mark never made empty threats.

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting against the panic creeping up your spine. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt her,” you whispered.

His fingers curled tighter in your hair. “That was before you started playing games with me.” You clenched your jaw. “I—”

“Think very carefully,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously low. “I will find the grave, with or without your help. The only difference is whether I do it before or after I rip apart the people you love.” Your stomach churned violently. This was it. Either betray your husband’s memory or risk Debbie and Oliver’s lives. Your breath came out shaky.

“…West Hill Cemetery,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. Mark stilled. He tilted his head, as if gauging whether or not you were lying. Then he smirked.

“Good girl.” Shame burned through you, but you refused to let him see it. You would not give him the satisfaction. Mark released you, stepping back. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” You swallowed, wrapping your arms around yourself as he turned toward the door.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you said bitterly. “Digging up my husband’s body just to prove a point.” He stopped. Then, slowly, he looked at you over his shoulder, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Oh, I’m not just digging him up.” Your blood ran cold. Before you could even ask what he meant, he was gone.

You stood frozen long after he left, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest like a boulder. I’m not digging him up. A sickening realization settled in your gut. He wasn’t going to desecrate Mark’s grave. He was going to replace him.

A choked sob escaped your lips. This was so much worse than you thought. Sinister Mark didn’t just want to manipulate you—he wanted to be him. To slip into his place, wear his face, and fool the people who still loved him.

Debbie. Oliver. Even Cecil. He was going to make them believe that Mark Grayson had somehow, impossibly, come back from the dead. And you—you—had given him everything he needed to do it. Your legs gave out, and you sank to the floor, gripping the fabric of your husband’s old hoodie like a lifeline. “Mark…” Your voice cracked. “I’m so sorry…” But apologies wouldn’t fix this. They wouldn’t undo the mistake you had made.

She gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white, her foot pressing harder on the gas. The world outside blurred past her, streetlights casting streaks of yellow across the windshield.

Faster. Faster.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. She had to stop him. She had to stop him. When she pulled into the cemetery, she barely had time to throw the car into park before shoving the door open and sprinting toward the familiar headstone.

But the moment she saw it, the breath in her lungs vanished. A gaping hole. Her knees hit the dirt before she even realized she had fallen. Her hands clawed at the disturbed soil, scooping up fistfuls of earth as if she could somehow undo what had been done. Tears streamed down her face. “No, no, no…” Her voice broke as she gasped for air. “I’m too late.”

The sound of wind rushed behind her. Her body went rigid, every nerve screaming at her to run, but she already knew there was nowhere to go. Slowly, she turned. Mark stood there, wearing his clothes—her Mark’s clothes. His hands were dirty, bits of soil clinging to his fingers as he dusted them off. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“You’re so predictable, you know that?” She barely had time to react before he grabbed her arm, yanking her up and pulling her flush against his chest. She barely had the strength to stand, but he didn’t give her a choice. His grip was firm, unyielding, as he pulled her up against him. Tears blurred her vision, and her voice broke as she whispered, “What did you do?”

Mark tilted his head, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “What do you think I did?” He gestured toward the empty grave, the disturbed earth, the gaping wound in the ground where her husband’s body had been. “I told you, didn’t I? Cecil would have come looking.” She shook her head, nausea crawling up her throat. “You dug him up—”

“Had to.” His voice was infuriatingly casual, like he wasn’t talking about a corpse—her husband’s corpse. “Imagine how awkward it would be if Cecil did a DNA test and found two Marks? That’d be hard to explain.”

Her stomach twisted violently. “Where is he?” Mark’s smirk widened. “Relax, sweetheart. I took care of it.” Something inside her shattered. “You destroyed him, didn’t you?” Her voice rose, hysterical. She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t move. He just let her fight, let her beat her fists against him, let her scream until her throat burned.

Then he grabbed her wrists and yanked her close. “That body wasn’t him,” he murmured, voice almost soft. “It was just meat rotting in a box.” She turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears fell. “I know it hurts,” he continued, voice mockingly sweet. “But look on the bright side…” He leaned in, lips brushing against her ear. “You’ve got me now.” Her breath hitched, and she felt herself breaking all over again.

The drive was over too quickly, the car coming to a screeching halt in front of the house. Mark turned off the engine, his eyes still fixed ahead as if he hadn’t just buried her husband’s body. She sat there, frozen, her heart racing in her chest, trying to ignore the sick feeling creeping up her throat.

“Out,” Mark said, his voice low, but the command was clear. His eyes flickered to her, hard and cold.

She didn’t move at first, her hands gripping the seat in front of her. She had no idea how to face him anymore. How to even face herself. The weight of everything was suffocating her, but she knew better than to fight back now. Not when he was this unpredictable. She got out of the car slowly, the chill of the night air biting at her skin. He followed her inside, the door slamming behind them, and for a moment, there was only silence between them. Mark didn’t waste any time. “Upstairs. Now.” His voice was demanding, like she was still his to control, to manipulate, to break. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not doing this anymore,” she said, her voice small but firm. She was tired—so tired of the pain, the fear, and the constant dread of what was to come.

Mark’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have a choice.” His steps echoed as he moved toward her, grabbing her arm before she could retreat. “You’ll learn, Y/N. You’ll learn that resisting me only makes it worse. You’ll learn that you can’t escape this, no matter how hard you try.” She flinched at his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His grip tightened, his eyes seething with something darker than before. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growled, dragging her upstairs.

She could feel the walls closing in. She didn’t want to go through this. Didn’t want to be his again. But her body betrayed her as she followed him, step by step, feeling the exhaustion seep deeper into her bones. When they reached the bedroom, Mark shoved the door open, and she stumbled inside. His presence loomed over her like a shadow, suffocating and consuming everything.

“Sit down,” he ordered, and her body obeyed before her mind could protest. Mark stood in front of her, his eyes scanning her like she was something to be conquered, broken, reshaped. His smirk was gone, replaced by a stern, almost calculating expression. “You’re not getting out of this. Not this time. I’m not letting you slip away again,” he muttered, his hands resting at his sides.

Y/N didn’t say anything, the weight of the situation heavy on her chest. She wasn’t sure what to say, or if anything would even matter anymore. The love, the warmth, the safety—everything was gone. And all she could do was sit there, waiting for him to decide what came next. He took a deep breath, watching her closely. Then he stepped forward and gently cupped her face. She didn’t flinch this time.

“I’ll make you understand,” he said quietly, his voice oddly soft, but still carrying that same dark edge. “You’re mine. And you’ll learn to accept that.” She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the overwhelming dread that filled her chest. But deep down, she knew this was just the beginning. And she hated herself for knowing that she was starting to accept it.

Mark’s fingers lingered on her chin, his touch almost tender, though the emotion behind it was far from kind. His gaze was heavy on her, and for a moment, she could almost convince herself that he wasn’t the man who had destroyed her life. That maybe—just maybe—this version of him could still be reached. But then the familiar darkness in his eyes crept in, and the delusion shattered. “You think you have a choice in this, Y/N?” he murmured, stepping back just enough to look her over with a smirk. “You’ve never had a choice. You’re here because I brought you here.”

Her heart twisted in her chest, and she quickly pushed those thoughts away, focusing on something—anything—to regain her composure. But the pressure of the moment suffocated her, and she felt herself sinking into the hopelessness she had been trying so hard to avoid. “No,” she whispered, almost pleading. “I’m not your… your prisoner. I’m not like her. I’m not like the other Y/N.”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and raw. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she dared to look up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression flickered, but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t understanding. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “The other Y/N? You really think you’re different?” he scoffed. “You’re the same. You’re just a version of her. A broken one.”

He moved closer again, his presence so overwhelming that she could feel the air shift around them. “You keep thinking you can resist me, but you’re wrong. You’re already here. And deep down, you know you’re not going anywhere. Not unless I let you.”

Her breath hitched, and her throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth was, she wasn’t sure anymore. How much of her was left to fight? How much could she give before she became just like the other Y/N—lost to him? He reached out then, his hand moving to the side of her neck in a move so familiar, so intimate, that it made her heart ache with memories of the real Mark. Her stomach churned as the realization hit her. She wasn’t just afraid of him. She was terrified of what he was making her become.

“I’ll never be her,” she whispered, her voice quivering. She had to remind herself—she wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t be. She couldn’t be. Mark’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was a smile of someone who had long given up trying to convince himself he was anything more than a monster.

“You think you can change me, Y/N? That you can make me feel something real?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous. “I don’t need feelings. I don’t need love. I need control. I need you to remember who you belong to.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and in that moment, everything felt like it was closing in around her. She tried to look away, but Mark gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something dark and cold. “You’re mine, Y/N. Just like she was. And you’ll never escape me.”

A cold tear slipped down her cheek as the weight of his words crushed her. She fought back the urge to scream, to lash out, but she knew that would only fuel the fire. The fire that burned in his eyes. Slowly, almost as if he could feel the surrender in her, he let go of her chin, but not before brushing his thumb over her skin, the motion slow and deliberate. “Don’t forget it,” he whispered, stepping away and giving her a moment to breathe.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to push him away, to fight with everything she had left in her. But the reality was, she had no fight left. Not with him. Not in this place. And deep down, she knew the truth. She would never truly escape. Not as long as Mark still had control over her—over everything she once loved. And that was the most terrifying part of all.

“You want me, isn’t that right, wife of mine?” He mocked. Her body froze at the mention of “wife,” the word feeling foreign in her ears. His lips pressed against hers, rough and demanding, and she fought the instinct to recoil. She hated him, she hated what he had turned her into, but the way he held her, the way his lips claimed hers—it made everything inside her spiral. Her pulse hammered in her ears, the bitter taste of defeat lingering as her mind screamed for her to pull away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Mark pulled back, his breath hot against her skin, his eyes searching her face. “You want me,” he repeated, his voice low, almost coaxing. “Admit it. You can’t lie to me anymore. You’re mine, and you want me to touch you. I can feel it.”

She shook her head, trying to ignore the desire coursing through her veins, the sickening pull of his presence. She could almost hear her own thoughts, begging for release, for an escape, but nothing came. He was right. He always was.

Her lips parted, but the words that escaped were barely above a whisper, broken and lost. “No… I don’t want this… I don’t want you.”

He laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. I see it in your eyes. You think I don’t know how you feel? That you’re not craving me, even a little? It’s been so long since you’ve felt alive.” His hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer. “This is all you know now. Me. And you’ll never leave. Never again.”

His kiss returned, deeper this time, his hands moving possessively across her back. It was a battle between pushing him away and wanting to feel something—anything—to escape the emptiness inside her. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching, torn between the woman she once was and the shattered version he had created.

But in that moment, as she felt him against her, she realized something: there was no escaping him. There was no escaping what he had done to her. She was trapped, locked in his world, and every part of her screamed to break free.

But part of her… part of her had already given in. She couldn’t deny it. Not anymore. He had broken her down, piece by piece, until the walls had crumbled, and now she was just another victim of his twisted love. She didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. But it was undeniable.

[arbitrarykiwi]

Hii!! It’s my birthday soon (feb 17th to be exact 🌝) so i was wondering if you could do a nam-gyu x reader x thanos imagine where it’s readers birthday and they go all out, wanting her to have a special birthday

The Happiest of Birthdays!

OMG!!!! HAPPY (early when I’m posting this) BIRTHDAY!!! you've quite literally been with my lil page since the start so I had to quickly whip something up!!! I wanted to touch base on how they would go about the entire day of the readers birthday so I cooked up some various things to discuss!! I also had someone request a thangyu themed birthday smut sooooo that will also be coming down the line >:)

Warnings: sfw, mention of weed/smoking, probably definitely ooc nam-gyu and thanos

While Thanos and Nam-Gyu both have their own likes and dislikes about their own birthdays- one things for certain they LOVE your birthday. They both will coordinate, saving months in advance to pull money together to spoil you on your special day (one of the few times they can work together and not against each other).

Thanos and Nam-Gyu both have multiple reminders in their phones about your birthday, they plan weeks in advance to know what they’re going to do for you as a celebration, and they love spoiling you! Over the years they learned that working together as much as they can on your birthday is the best- the times that they didn’t work together led to many duplicate gifts and many double reservations at the same restaurant. It’s what happens when great minds think alike and you’re so easy to buy for!!!

Nam-gyu is the type of guy to have an alarm set at 12am the day of your birthday to be one of the first ones to text you or tell you ‘happy birthday’. Thanos tries to do it too- wanting to beat Nam-Gyu at being the first to text you, but he always sleeps through his alarms. Nam-gyu also remembers the time you were born so the initial 12am birthday wishes are always followed by a ‘even though it’s not technically your birthday yet’

Thanos definitely gets a little upset that Nam-Gyu always seems to text you or tell you happy birthday first. Thanos always falls asleep right before 12am or is asleep in your arms, drooling on your chest before 12am. He sets alarms like Nam-Gyu but he always sleeps through them, he swears that his phone alarms don’t work (even though they do, and you often suffer the consequences of the blaring ship horn and flashing light that he has programmed as his phone alarm)

Let’s be real- they never text you happy birthday anyway. They’re always with you the day before and the day of your birthday (and probably the day after too) The day before your birthday, you’ll probably all find yourself in bed smoking a blunt, watching TV. Thanos is half asleep curled up by your side, nodding off every so often-he can’t help it when your thighs are so comfy. You are also half asleep, eyes fluttering shut then snapping open when the show you three were watching got too loud. Nam-gyu has his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side where you belong, kissing your head every time he passes you the blunt- he’s gotta spoil the (soon to be) birthday girl as much as he can.

When 12am strikes, Nam-Gyu is waking you up suddenly from your moment dozing off with a kiss to your cheek, mumbling a “happy birthday, pretty” into your skin. You can’t help but to giggle and blink open your eyes sleepily, turning to him. Your hands reach up to cup his cheeks and pull him in for a proper kiss. It’s slow, sweet and lazy. The movement and rustling of the sheets would inevitably wake up Thanos who is whining and nipping at your thigh, annoyed Nam-Gyu yet again, got to wish you happy birthday before him. You giggle, pulling away from Nam-gyu, turning to meet Thanos who’s sitting up to meet your lips in a kiss, one hand coming to the back of your head to cradle you and deepen the kiss despite you giggling against his lips. When he pulls away, the purple haired male is mumbling a “happy birthday, my beautiful flower” against your lips.

They also make it a tradition to make sure flowers are the first thing you see when they wake up. You’re the birthday girl- you get to sleep in! And with it being such a special day, more often than not they’re out of bed before you. They always struggle to get out of the bed and crawl away from the warmth of your touch but they know it’s a sacrifice they must make to make their pretty girl happy!!

One thing about the both of them though- you’re not gonna get any cards from them. Little keepsakes with a small note written on it….maybe. They both have shit handwriting and are horrible when it comes to writing down what they want to say. They’d rather just say it to you. Thanos likes to say cards are far too expensive for what they are (he’s right), that card companies are a scam (again he’s kinda right). Nam-gyu just doesn’t understand the point of them, he thinks you’re gonna read it once then throw it in a drawer that will eventually pile up with other insignificant cards you receive (he’s wrong, you’d cherish anything they gave you).

Nam-gyu always bakes you a birthday cake. He asks you directly what flavor you want and asks you to send him ideas of what you want the design to be. Somehow he executes it perfectly. Whatever design or shape you want- magically makes it happen. You genuinely don’t know how he does it but he has a unique gift for cooking and baking although he adamantly denies he has a talent for either. The catch you have you deal with when Nam-gyu makes your cake (and that’s every year you’re with them) is that you never get to see it early and only see it when it’s brought to the table. As much as you try to fight it, wanting to catch sneak peaks of the inevitable masterpiece of a cake, both Nam-Gyu and Thanos never let you see it before the time of presenting it to you while singing happy birthday because they simply adore capturing the picture of your adorable first reaction to the cake.

Speaking of bringing the cake to you, that’s one of the odd things they trade off doing year to year. It’s one of the strange intricacies they have but you can’t complain. They both love having their own pictures them handing you the cake. They can never get enough of the still images they have of you looking up to them like they hung the moon, mouth hung open or hands covering your mouth in shock, more often than not there’s tears welling in your eyes as you get your first glimpse of the cake Nam-Gyu had expertly crafted and decorated for you. If you don’t go out to eat Nam-gyu will also cook you whatever dinner you want!

On the occasion that you guys do go out to eat. They’d want to take you somewhere super nice. They want to help you pick out the dress, the jewelry, and even take you to get brand new makeup to specifically match your dress. Of course, you don’t pay. They’d sit patiently on your bed and watch you like you hung the moon as you do your makeup. They honestly love watching the whole process from start to finish- they both find it so fascinating. When you’re done and y’all go out and hit the town- they’re showing you off so hard. They know going into the restaurant as the trio you were, you three would get some looks. They lean into it, flaunting you like the prize you are. Nam-gyu would keep one arm wrapped around your back, hand squeezing lightly at your waist and the other hand is palm up, holding your hand to keep you upright while Thanos is kneeling down on the floor of the restaurant lobby to put your heel on his thigh to adjust the strap you minimally complained about- they want the onlookers to know how special you are, so special that you need two men to tend to you, that you’re a goddess to be doted on.

If it’s a year where Nam-Gyu cooks, while Nam-gyu takes care of the cooking, Thanos takes care of the gifts. They spoil you, truly. But more often than not they stick to a larger ‘combined’ gift, a personalized gift from each of them, and a few other little things. Nam-Gyu and Thanos wait till you leave your apartment while they’re both there to discuss their plan of attack. Nam-gyu hates the mall with a vengeance, also hates shopping- that’s why you got Thanos! (Best of both worlds!)- so they will sit together and make a list that Thanos goes out and searches for.

They both prefer to gift you experiences rather than material items because they both say it makes more of a memory. And they’re right. They’ll definitely get you materialistic gifts! But that’s throughout the year! They take you on shopping sprees all the time! (Nam-Gyu doesn’t take you to the mall or in-person stores he takes you on online shopping sprees) Throughout the year they will both work to sneakily try and find out where you want to go. Places on instagram you favorited, posts of cute air bnbs you found online, or even a as far as a city / country you want to go to- they make it happen for your birthday.

They also both post you! Both different in how they do it as always. Thanos normally will compile all the photos he’s taken of you on your birthday and post something at night before the day ends. He always says it’s the perfect way to commemorate your birthday on his social medias. The photos all showcase you, you holding your cake, you sitting across from him at your birthday dinner and smiling all pretty, a picture of your hand in his to showcase the diamond bracelet he got you. He always ends the picture slide show with a photo of him and Nam-gyu kissing your cheek, one of them on either side of you. It’s cute- you can make a slide show of the same picture over the years. It’s a tradition Thanos holds dear. He also doesn’t tag you- he will make the caption the sweetest thing imaginable, post your face twelve times over- but he won’t tag you, he hates that the one time he did you got 200 extra followers, most of which were men who obviously thought you were hot. He already has to share you with Nam-Gyu! He doesn’t want to share with anyone else (besides when he’s posting to brag about his perfect girlfriend).

Nam-Gyu posts a collection of photos he has of you from over the year so he can post it in the morning so you see it on your feed first thing when you open the app. He likes ones where you’re caught off guard, when he comes over to find you asleep on the living room couch or when you’re cooking with him and you’re attention is elsewhere and you’re busy brushing off the flour that Thanos had wiped on the tip of your nose. He also, like Thanos, has a similar picture he posts in the group of photos every year on your birthday. He makes you sit in front of his camera, his free hand not holding your phone to squish your cheeks together. You always end up laughing and that’s his favorite part about it, he captures your wide smile mid laugh. Unlike Thanos though, he tags you in the post- he wants others to see exactly what he has and that no one else (besides Thanos) can have you. He loves going through your requests and denying random guys himself.

It’s all about you on your birthday and that means even late into the night!! When you’re done with the adventures for the day, they’re taking you home and setting up a bath for you- albeit clumsily. They have to have you supervise, making sure they don’t add too many bubbles or overflow the tub. But they add whatever you want into the tub, make sure it’s the perfect temperature and light candles; the whole nine yards. They sit with you in the bathroom so they can roll you a blunt and pass it to you. They hold it up for you so you don’t even have to worry about it getting wet. When you’re done Thanos is grabbing you a towel that they had warming in the dryer. When you step out of the tub, you’re stepping into Nam-Gyu’s arms and he’s wrapping you in the warm embrace of the towel.

Needless today they just adore you and take your birthday as a chance to really show you just how much they appreciate you for putting up with them- everyone knows they’re a handful. But they love their pretty girl so much that they just have to celebrate your birthday in the most over the top ways!!

Hi yall! Sorry for my brief absence I was sick for a bit! But now I’m back! I had to break up the request queue for this special request so hope yall don’t mind 🫶 I’m working on a few more requests at the moment and the next one posted will be the Babydaddy!Nam-gyu x reader smut.

Love yew all! - kiwi

[liketolaugh-writes]

Danny learned about four Ghost Kings in total.

The first one had no name and no solid body. Stories refer to them as a being of darkness - the Infinite, the Dark, and Genesis are all common names for them. The Infinite Realms were a part of them, and they created a lot of how it works fundamentally. They are the reason ghosts form lairs, that similar ghosts tend to form near each other, and probably created the homes and habitats that most Neverborn tribes and animal ghosts settled in. They didn’t make any rules. They just set some order in the chaos. Then one day they disappeared.

Several centuries later, Death (Anubis, Yama, Nergal) stepped up, forged the Ring of Truth and the Crown of Order, and made himself king. No challenger could overthrow him. Death introduced structure to the Infinite Realms; he created the hierarchy the Infinite Realms uses to this day and the method by which leadership is chosen. He gathered lairs into territories, territories into cultures, cultures into worlds, and worlds under him. Despite the loose system it still requires maintenance, settling territory disputes and abuses of authority, so he did that for a few thousand years, adding to the system as time went on: he created portals between cities, connected libraries (and other spiritually similar places, like universities and hospitals) to each other, created the first version of orientation. But eventually the maintenance was too much for him to keep up with, and he picked a successor, a long-time advisor, and had him forge a crown and ring of his own.

With the Ring of Execution and the Crown of Stone, Hades experimented with stricter systems, trying to make the Infinite Realms more peaceful. He implemented a crime tracking system, then prison dimensions. After a thousand years, he got rid of prison dimensions and implemented exile instead; he did the same with universal laws. He went personally to handle any outrageous cruelties and abuses brought to his attention, and backed up weaker guardian spirits when they struggled to throw off invaders and lawbreakers.

Then came the rise of Pariah Dark. He and Hades faced off three times before Pariah Dark won, but each match was a close call, and Hades was unable to finish him off. (He already saw where this was going, and his fear was apparent to those that knew him.) Pariah Dark’s exact origins are unclear, but he’s most likely the Neverborn spirit of tyranny, containing the spirits of many tyrants that have ruled over the years, the combined deaths of many. Pariah essentially tried to break down everything his predecessors built up, wanting absolute rule. He used his army to enforce that, breaking up rebellions, then gatherings. He burned information, tore apart coordination systems, destroyed ghosts that tried to cooperate anyway, and ended the afterlives of many guardian spirits who enforced rules of their own. A record number of ghosts died during his rule, from violence and from deprivation, but especially guardian spirits. It became the thing he was known for.

Then, of course, came Danny.

In total:

The Infinite - Predates homo sapiens, disappeared 40,000 years ago, shortly after Neanderthals died out. (Existed before Clockwork’s time.)

Death - Took up the crown around 20,000 years ago, and passed it on 5,000 years ago. Clockwork and Death formed at around the same time (well before Death took the crown.)

Hades - Was overthrown 2,500 years ago.

Pariah Dark - Was imprisoned 2,000 years ago.

[powderpinkprincess]

License [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

description: You hate driving. Your twin brother, Lando, tries to help you out with that.  warnings: a few bad words

When you and Lando were kids, you shared pretty much everything. You went to the same daycare group, then to the same school, and you even shared a room until the two of you turned 8. You were twins, so it just kind of worked that way.

You also fought a lot. Over stupid things mostly – whose turn it was to pick the TV show or who got more snacks, although your parents always made sure whatever you got was the exact same amount. Classic sibling stuff. Lando was already a very competitive child when he was daycare age, and he always pulled you into his mind games.

The only thing you didn’t share was his love for driving.

You tried karting when he stared, mostly because it felt weird not to. You always went to the same afternoon activities because, for your parents, it was easier to coordinate one program than two at the same time, considering that you had two sisters and a brother as well. However, your parents quickly decided to pull you out after seeing that you were sitting on the ground and crying before most of the practices, while Lando was already speeding through other kids like nothing mattered.

That whole thing about you not liking to drive never really changed, even in your twenties. Lando was a full-on Formula 1 driver by then, and you also had your driver’s license, but you barely used it. Most of the time, you just took public transport. Driving made you nervous, simple as that. You secretly blamed your childhood experiences with karting for that.

When Lando came home for summer break, you visited your parents’ house as well to spend some time with him. You hadn’t seen him for nearly three months now, as you had your own job, your own apartment, and you didn’t have the time to travel after him. Your passion was running, and you worked as a trainer. Your family has always been a very fit and sporty one.

Of course, you and Lando quickly got comfortable around each other again, and you were back to your usual routine within five minutes, arguing and teasing nonstop. At one point, he made some snarky comment about your driving, and your mom, Cisca finally had enough.

 “Lando, why don’t you take your sister for a drive?” she asked, her hands on her hips as always when she got annoyed. “You could actually help her feel more confident instead of making fun of her, don’t you think so?”

 “What? But she doesn’t even like to drive!” Lando protested immediately.

 “That’s exactly why,” Cisca sighed. “Give her a few tips. You drive for a living.”

Your eyes widened as well. “Mom, you can’t be serious. Lando barely passed his theory test. I wouldn’t trust his advice on normal roads if my life depended on it. I wouldn’t even let him outside the track!” You were exaggerating a little, but he wasn’t the brightest in the theory, that was true. He drove out of intuition, which, in his case, worked well, but you couldn’t do that. Your intuitions would drive you into the first ditch in sight.

Lando let out a scoff. “I passed the theory. Besides, I’m still a better driver than you are.”

 “Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real menace to society in a school zone,” you snorted.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Bold words from someone who breaks down in tears at roundabouts.”

 “Lando!” Cisca raised her voice a little. You always found it amusing how it was always he who got scolded. When the two of you were young, it was mostly Lando picking fights, therefore, his name became some kind of a reflex for your parents when they heard bickering.

Lando raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. We can try.”

Cisca handed him the key to the older family car – not you, you noticed -, and then you followed your brother into the garage, your arms crossed.

 "You know, you don't have to be so upset," he said as he unlocked the car.

 "You do get on my nerves sometimes," you muttered.

He shrugged and went to open the driver's side door, waiting for you to get in. You grumbled in protest, but you did sit down, fastening the seatbelt and adjusting the mirrors. Lando rounded the car and sat on the passenger seat. It was a rare sight to see, considering that he disliked giving out control of his hands when it came to driving. He put on a pair of sunglasses and rolled down the window, propping his elbow out.

 “Feeling comfortable?” you scoffed.

 “As comfortable as I can get,” he grinned at you. You just shook your head at that.

The drive started off quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Lando didn’t even say anything for the first few minutes. You were hyper-aware of every movement, already regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

 “I’m not gonna bite,” he finally said, watching you intently. His snarky attitude seemed to falter a little as he noticed how nervous you were. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He didn’t wish anything bad for you.

 “You're already annoying, and we haven’t even left the street yet,” you muttered. You pulled out with all the grace of someone trying to look calm while internally screaming. Lando was surprisingly quiet again. Too quiet.

You glanced at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just- Didn’t think we’d make it out of there in one piece,” he said. He couldn’t resist being a little smug.

You nearly slammed the brakes right there. “Say one more thing and I swear I’m turning this into a hostage situation.”

Lando raised both hands like you were holding a weapon. “Alright, alright. No need for threats. Just drive.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You were constantly second-guessing your speed at every moment. Lando was a quiet observer for the first few minutes, but soon enough, the silence was broken. "You're going kinda slow," he pointed out.

 “If I go faster, I’ll crash and we’ll both die,” you mumbled under your breath.

 “Come on, at this speed here, you’re just going to break the car at worst, no one is going to die. And if you drive too slowly, that’s also dangerous,” he replied. “Just saying this because people are gonna honk soon if you don’t speed up, and you’ll freak out.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you added some more gas.

 “There you go.” Lando shifted in his seat a little and leaned back, way too comfortable for this situation.

 “How are you not terrified sitting next to me?” you sighed.

He shrugged, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have been in far riskier situations, trust me. Besides, you're a better driver than you give yourself credit for.” Lando glanced sideways at you, observing your nervous expression and your grip on the wheel.  “Relax. What are you so scared of anyway? That you’ll hit something? That you’ll break the car?”

 “Kind of both,” you bit your lip.

 "You’re being so careful, I doubt you’ll wreck the car. If you’re too nervous, though, you’ll make mistakes. You’re doing great, just don’t think about it too much." Surprisingly, his words seemed to help. You focused back on the road. The silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

You were even starting to relax as you turned onto a quieter street. Your hands were a little steadier on the wheel, Lando had backed off from his usual teasing, and for a second, it felt like maybe this whole "practice drive" thing wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Then Lando’s voice cut through the calm.

 “Shit- Watch out!”

You barely had time to register his words. Out of nowhere, a black SUV shot out from a side street – no signal, no warning – cutting right across your lane.

You slammed the brakes instinctively, heart jumping to your throat, the tires giving a sharp screech as the car jerked to a stop just in time. Lando reached over and grabbed the wheel instinctively, helping you swerve slightly. The SUV sped off like nothing had happened, only missing you by a few centimetres.

 “Jesus Christ,” Lando breathed, whipping around to glare after it. “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

You didn’t answer. Your hands were glued to the wheel, trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt, and before you knew it, your eyes filled with tears.

Lando looked back at you. “Hey... Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat was too tight, and the tears came faster. You tried to blink them away, but it was useless. You were overwhelmed by the fear, the adrenaline, and the what-ifs. It all crashed down at once.

 “Okay, okay,” Lando said quickly. “Just pull over.”

With shaking hands, you guided the car to the side of the road and parked. You didn’t even turn to him. You just covered your face, shoulders starting to shake as the sobs took over.

Lando didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he let out a slow breath and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re okay. I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. That guy was a fucking idiot.”

You finally looked at him, eyes red, still catching your breath. “I thought we were gonna crash.”

 “But we didn’t,” Lando said. “You did everything right.”

You nodded, hiccup-crying a little, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. Lando unbuckled himself and leaned across the console to pull you into an awkward hug, patting your back. “You did great, Y/N. You’re not hurt, I’m not hurt, and even the car is fine. You were perfect, okay? I promise, it’s okay.”

 "If you didn't notice him, we would've crashed," you sniffled.

 "But you did see him in time, and you hit the brakes," Lando pointed out. "You were so quick to respond. Not many people would've reacted as fast as you did, if they would even have at all."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, Lando letting you calm down a little. After a while, you blew out some air through your mouth. "I don't want to drive home, you drive home."

Lando didn't think this was such a good idea. You were doing so well, stopping the drive with such a negative experience would definitely set you back again. Lando watched you for a moment, the tension still hanging in the air between you. He knew you were shaken, but he wasn’t about to let you give up.

 “You’re not quitting now, Y/N,” he said gently, though his voice carried a quiet firmness. “You’ve come this far, and I’m not gonna let you bail out now, okay?”

You stared at him, the exhaustion and frustration evident on your face. "But I can't do this, Lando," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

 "But you can," he insisted. "You just need to trust yourself a little more. I’m right here with you, okay? You don’t have to do it alone."

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t realized how much you needed that reassurance until now. For a moment, you let your eyes wander out the window, trying to steady your breath and calm the knot in your stomach.

 “Just try,” Lando said quietly, offering you a small but encouraging smile. “You’ve already done more than you think. If you need to stop, we’ll stop, but just... try.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with doubt, but slowly, you nodded. With shaky hands, you gripped the wheel again, the familiar feel of it grounding you.

 “I’ll try,” you whispered.

Lando nodded, giving you a reassuring look as you pulled back into traffic. When you arrived home, Lando got out of the car first, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off any remaining stress. When he saw your Mom waiting, he managed a small smile. "No casualties this time," he joked, trying to ease the potential tension.

Cisca's eyebrow twitched up in disbelief, her eyes darting from Lando to the car and finally to you. "Really? No shouting, no speeding, no cursing from your brother?"

 “He was pretty decent,” you shrugged with a smile.

Cisca looked genuinely surprised. Lando’s temper, which got him to Formula 1, wasn’t always the easiest to handle when it was between the two of you.

 “See? You raised a gentleman out of me,” Lando said with a smug smile.

Cisca just shook his head with a laugh and walked back into the living room, leaving the two of you there.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik flies. Ghost pines. Price... considers.

cw: hints of a future polyamorous relationship.

“Whit's he daein'?” Soap asked, folding his arms and legs as he watched Nik in the near distance.

Price looked up from the report in his lap, roll up twitching between his lips. Nik was pacing back and forth, fists, hands and arms moving in rhythmic, practised motions in front of his chest, by his hips, occasionally twisting behind him. But there was no opponent, only the imaginary one in Nik's head in the shape of the jet he was about to fly. “Shadowboxin.”

“Aye, ah c’n see tha’, sir. How come?”

Simon shifted on Price's right. He had been watching Nik with a palpable hunger. Even with his mask, the intensity of his gaze was hard to miss. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost husky. Like he was wading out of deeper, warmer thoughts. “Trainin’ exercise to practice his spatial awareness, coordination, and muscle memory before gettin’ in the cockpit. That thing ain’t his Black Hawk. Whole different animal. Second fastest jet in service.”

“That thing? S’massive. Na wey it kin shift. He'd ‘ave more fun in an F-15.”

The Foxbat was the size of a World War II heavy bomber — nine feet longer than an Avro Lancaster, two and a half feet taller than a B-24 and with a gross weight almost twenty-seven thousand pounds heavier than a Boeing B-17. Price had seen old black and white photographs on Nik's phone of Soviet technicians servicing the damn thing; they’d looked like toy soldiers scurrying around in its shadow.

The ride in the MiG-25 was a gift from Laswell as a thank you for Nik's help on a black op. Not even Price knew much about it, but it had to have been gnarly for her to pull this many strings. The Foxbat was fully fuelled and Nik's flight plan had been filed. Nik was going to throw that tank of an aircraft around the skies like he was twenty-two again, and he'd been vibrating with excitement during the walk out.

“Big man, big plane,” Simon murmured, “and he's got’a special attachment to it, even though it's a bit shite.”

Price plucked his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ash onto the concrete by his thigh, considering Simon closely. There had been a change in him recently, especially around Nik. He spent a lot of time watching Nik - all out staring, as Simon was prone to do - standing close to him during briefings, finding reasons to talk to him in down time. He was flirting without realising it. Price knew why. Nik had told him about the hair incident, and asked whether there was any possibility of enticing Simon into a little more.

Honestly? Price had laughed at the time. ‘Better chance of gettin’ a gobby off of Makarov’ had been his exact words. But now that he had watched Simon around Nik for a month, he wasn't so sure his initial assessment was accurate. Even now, his body was enticed towards Nik. His arms were folded but his posture was open, upper back against the wall but hips in Nik's direction, his feet spread, shifting and twitching like there was something bubbling beneath his skin.

“Oh aye? Why's he so keen on it then?” Soap asked, giving Simon the side eye. The sergeant wasn't thick; he'd seen it too.

“Foxbat scared the Americans shitless during the Cold War. They got these spy satellite photos showin’ that beast, engine intakes the size of small cars. Big wings, potential for more maneuverability ‘an the F-4 Phantom II. But a pilot called Viktor Belenko defected and showed her to be a dud. Wife divorcin’ him, disaffected with communist society. In 1976, he left his sortie and went to Japan. Landed at Hakodate, overran the runway, shut down with only thirty seconds of fuel remainin’. Handed ‘em a brand new Foxbat and a fockin’ trainin’ manual to dissect.”

Simon rattled it all off without pause, and Price had to fight his grin to keep his expression passive. Well, that bloody well confirmed it. Simon had hyperfixated on the plane that Nik treasured. There were probably several more encyclopedias worth of knowledge on the damn thing in his head, ready to use with Nik later. That was how Simon tried to connect with people; shitty jokes and learning about them through what they loved.

“‘Ow the fuck d’ye know all that?” Soap asked, smirking. He'd sussed it too.

“I read,” Simon said dryly. “Try it some time.”

“Och, baltic, sir.” Soap sniffed, head tilting the other way. “So, he feels some kinda kindred spirit with Belenko.”

Simon shrugged. “Maybe. Or he's a fockin’ plane nerd and flyin’ that thing would be like the old man wankin’ over those Nortons at Bletchley Park.”

“Yeah, wondered when it'd be my turn,” Price growled, rolling his eyes.

“At least it dunnae need a drip tray and a prayer to stay together, eh?”

“Ya tolkin’ about Price or the bikes?” Simon's head lolled to the side as he spoke, tone rife with wry amusement.

Soap cackled, and Price slapped the folder closed in his lap. “Olrigh’, can it, ya muppets.”

“Aye, sir. Ah, look, mus’ be his slot.”

They watched the Foxbat taxi down the runway under the direction of the flight crew, their exaggerated hand gestures and bouncing completely alien to the three soldiers sitting by the hanger but clearly recognisable to Nik, who made a hand gesture in return before he looked forward.

Price returned his cigarette to his mouth, leaning back to watch Nik climb the jet as the flight crew assembled. Time to take off. Nik bounced a little on his toes before he hauled himself up to the cockpit, shoving the headset and helmet on, aviators still in place because Nik was absolutely permitted his cornier foibles. This was a dream come true for him. Laswell had outdone herself.

Price grabbed the ear defenders nearby and chucked another set across to Soap; Simon was already prepared. The engines roared into life, making the air shimmer with heat and power, and the big jet accelerated down the runway, leaving the tarmac in one of the smoothest take offs Price had ever seen. Well, of course it was; it was Nik after all.

The Foxbat disappeared above the clouds quickly and Price glanced over at Simon. He didn't move until the grey smudge reappeared against the open skies further to the east. The jet rolled and banked, ascending almost vertical for a stall turn that made even Price's belly do a little flip. It shot back past the hanger, the sound of its engines lagging behind its visible position as Nik pushed it hard. Price wished he could hear Nik whooping and rambling in Russian; air traffic control were probably feeling a little uneasy.

Simon never dropped his chin. He remained stoic, his arms folded, but his mind was up in the clouds with Nik. They both were. The difference was that Price knew he would be unzipping that flight suit later and enjoying everything underneath, whereas Simon would deprive himself for fear of being hurt, no matter how much he wanted it. Price hummed, stubbing out his cigarette. Perhaps it was time to indulge Nik’s curiosity, and his own carefully managed and suppressed feelings. Simon wasn't the only one who had denied the obvious for self preservation.

Eventually, the flight had to come to an end. Nik brought the Foxbat down gently, the landing gear screeching against the tarmac briefly as Nik negotiated the short runway. He taxied back round to park her almost exactly where he had pulled away from, and Price smirked as the cockpit popped open and a jubilant Russian bounced up with a roar of triumph, big arms in the air.

Ghost stooped down to his bag and Price heard the tinkle of glass as he removed his ear defenders. Simon clutched four empty glasses in his big hands and jutted his chin at the Foxbat as he glanced down at Price. “Comin’?”

“Lead the way,” Price said, grunting as he rolled to his feet.

“Ey, where's the liquor?” Soap asked as he followed.

“Mechanics used t’ call this thing the Flyin’ Restaurant,” Price said. “The air-conditioning relies on evaporation of distilled water an’ about two hundred and forty litres of pure grain alcohol. She's still got some’uv the brew in her tank."

Soap’s nose wrinkled. “Ye hae tae be jokin’. Yer gonnae drink outta the feckin’ jet?”

“Abso-fockin’-lutely,” Simon said.

Nik greeted them with all the energy of an excited puppy, gesturing at the jet and spilling in and out of Russian and English like his brain was struggling to come down from the sky. His face lit up further when he spotted the glasses in Simon's hands, slapping the lieutenant on the shoulder with a surprised, booming laugh.

The air crew left them to it and Nik did the honours. It helped that the small bowsers used to refill the air-conditioning system had conveniently placed spigots to tap the Foxbat-shaped keg.

“Poyekhali!” Nik said before he knocked back his mouthful of Foxbat bloody moonshine. Soap choked and coughed on his, and Simon grunted in discomfort.

Price grinned, toasting his own. “Za zdorovye, comrade.” He took a deep breath before downing the lot. Oh it bloody burned.

[arpicityandneed]

Hi there! I'm so excited to hear your page is growing! Your work is amazing and I can't wait to see what you write next. Thank you for taking the time to share your work with us! 💜

If there's still space, could I ask for 2 or 10 with Steve or Bucky?

Thank you again and good luck in school!

Thanks!! It's my pleasure to share honestly.

Steve (#2 sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them)

18+ f!reader. Cap!Steve. Dirty talk. Spanking. Semi public sex.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all you could do was feel. Your cheek was pressed against cool glass as your boyfriend fucked you ravenously.

Alright maybe you shouldn't have teased him so much- each selfie sent during a tactical meeting was just your way of passing the time.

In your own defense, you'd been unsupervised.

But Steve had simply thrown you over his shoulder when he got back, ignoring your squeaks of protest. Your tshirt (his actually) was ripped in half before you got thrown on the bed, and all you got was one of his shit eating grins and a "you asked for it" before he was on you.

That was three- four? rounds ago, and at this point you weren't sure if you wanted to curse or thank Erskine's serum. Your boyfriend's stamina was endless.

"Come on pretty girl, where'd all that attitude go hm?" Steve was panting in your ear, thrusting his wickedly fat cock into your cum filled pussy over and over as his massive hand slapped your ass cheek.

"Thought you wanted my attention. Well now you have it baby." He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks as you clenched down around him, every roll of his hips dragging the head of his cock over your spot and making you keen.

"Stevie," you moaned completely out of it as you fucked yourself back onto his cock shamelessly, each balls deep kiss of his tip to your cervix making your eyes cross.

"Yeah yeah, I'm here sweetheart. Just gotta gimme one more and I'll let you rest for a bit mkay?" Steve may be enthustiatic but he was still gentle with your nonenhanced body. (As gentle as you wanted him to be anway.)

All it took was his hand snaking around to find your clit before you were screaming his name, grateful for the soundproof glass of Stark tower.

Steve groaned and pulled your hips flush against his before he added even more of his super sized load to your overflowing folds. If you had hand shaped bruises on your hips tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised, but more importantly you wondered if birth control worked with super soldier sperm.

Gentle hands picked you up when you would've fallen to the floor happily, carrying you to the shower and turning on the hot water as they held you close.

"Hey baby, can you open your eyes for me?" Steve cajoled softly, cupping your cheek in his hand as you blinked up at him blearily.

"Try that shit again and I'll have Bucky deal with you, he loves putting little brats like you in their place." Your eyes widened in shock and more than a little bit of interest, and it just made Steve laugh.

"Next time baby, rest now."

~

(10 minutes prior)

Bucky moved silently, Steve's text with coordinates and a simple note 'enjoy the show' made him curious he could admit. But he wasn't expecting to see your pretty little self fucked out and pressed against the glass.

Steve had picked the perfect spot, the exact coordinates giving Bucky a private view of Steve's window and your fully naked body split open on his best friends cock.

"Well I'll be damned," Bucky muttered as he adjusted his erection in his pants.

Even 70 years later, Stevie was still a fucking punk.

[roosterforme]

Alone With All Your Letters | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You had been with Jake for so long, he could barely remember himself without you. But he was ready for more, and he was tired of waiting for you to catch up to him. With a few ugly words, he broke your heart. And with one handwritten letter, you brought him to his knees. 

Warnings: Angst, smut, age gap, fluff, talk of pregnancy, 18+

Length: 3700

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

You had been with Jake for a long time. Almost seven years to be exact. And while he loved you and knew he wanted to be with you, sometimes it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that you and he were still at slightly different places in your lives. 

He'd met you when you were still in college. College. And he had been... a bit removed from school by that point. He had been new to Top Gun and San Diego when you slammed into his life. You were out celebrating your twenty first birthday at the same bar where he was celebrating his thirty third. You were clearly mortified when you ruined his shoes with a pitcher of spilled beer. But when he laughed, you looked so relieved, he let you buy him a drink.

And then you let him buy you several. And then you let him get you an Uber. And then he joined you in the Uber and spent the rest of the weekend at your apartment.

"Jake?" you asked, holding up two dresses next to your shared closet in his house. "Which one for brunch?"

They were both short and would show off your legs. Jake would get looks from other guys his age when he kissed your neck or wrapped his arm around your waist. He would get the occasional, "Nice going, bro." Or even the, "Daaamn." 

You were young. You were hot. But Jake would much rather spend the day at home relaxing with you instead of heading out to a boozy brunch with your friends. Especially the day before an eight week deployment. 

"The blue one, Honey," he told you with a soft smile. As he watched you get changed, he stood and tried to choose a shirt for himself. But he was tired of helping you pick out outfits and trying to coordinate how his shirts looked with your dresses. It didn't matter. It was exhausting. 

And that was the trade-off for being in love with someone twelve years younger. He was in love with a woman who loved him back with every fiber of her being, but he was also in love with a woman who put off the things he wanted to do. He no longer wanted rowdy beach vacations and dancing all night in clubs. He wanted to go to Europe and visit galleries. He no longer wanted to go out to eat every night. He wanted to stay in with you and make a meal together. 

He always felt the clash. Always felt like he was conceding with what he wanted for what you wanted. And it had never been more obvious than when he asked you a few years ago if you ever wanted to have kids. 

"Sure, Jake," you had told him, kissing his cheek. "I love kids. But not yet. In another year or two."

He hated bringing it up, he really did. But your answer was always the same. In another year or two. But it had been three years, going on four. And nothing you were doing was telling him you were getting close to that point yet. 

But he got dressed for this brunch that he didn't want to go to. And he held the door and talked to your friends and drank a mimosa. But he just wanted to be at home, enjoying the last day before he shipped out on an aircraft carrier. 

Later that night, Jake watched you change into some lacy, light pink lingerie that looked delicious on you. And then you made a big production of avoiding his grasp with a laugh. 

"Wait a second," you told him, pushing him playfully away. "I have to put something in your duffle bag." He unbuttoned his shirt as you rooted around in your nightstand drawer and pulled out a stack of envelopes just like you always did. "Make sure you read them in order," you whispered, bending to tuck them into his bag.

"I always do, Honey. Now come here." 

You treated him to your mouth and your hands and your pussy, letting him have whatever he asked for. And he fell asleep wrapped around your body, listening to you say, "I love you, Jake. I'll miss you so much."

But the next morning, he felt anxious in that way where he knew he needed to say something again. He'd be arriving back in port just before his fortieth birthday. He knew he was getting older. He knew what he wanted. But if there was never going to be a compromise with the timeline, then he needed to be the one to make the decision for both of you.

As you stood before him on the dock, tears in your eyes and your arms around his neck, he couldn't hold the words back. "Honey. I love you, but... I don't know if this is working for me anymore."

He watched your face fall and your lips part into a look of shock. Your voice was only a desperate whisper. "Jake?"

This was miserable, but he had to do it. He swallowed his guilt and said, "I don't know what to do here. I don't know if you're even happy with where we are, but I'm struggling. I'm about to be forty. I'm tired of going out all the time. I'm tired of waiting another year and another year and another year to get serious about kids. I love you, and I want to do that with you, but I can't force you. So if we aren't on the same page any longer, then maybe we need to end things."

Your lips were quivering, and your eyes were welling up with even more tears as you let your arms fall away from his body. You stepped backwards, putting some distance between the two of you. Your gaze started to change from one of sadness to one of anger. And Jake regretted it. He regretted everything he just said, but it was too late to take it back. So he stood there in it and let the disgusting feeling of remorse wash over him. 

"Honey-"

But his name was being called now, and you stepped away again when he reached for you. "Goodbye, Jake," you whispered, your voice rough with unshed tears as you swiped at your eyes. 

He turned and walked toward the long, daunting ramp that would take him to his deployment and away from you. Perhaps forever. Every time he turned back to look at you, there were more tears in your eyes, but you hadn't moved an inch. When he made his way onto the carrier deck, he dropped his bag and pulled out his phone. 

Jake called you over and over, watching you standing on the dock as you ignored his calls before tucking your phone away. He called your name, screamed it over the noise from the crowd of people seeing their loved ones off. He hollered until his voice was hoarse. And then he got his phone out again, waiting with shaking hands until he got your voicemail. 

He was looking right at you, and you were looking back at him as he said, "Honey, please. I'm so sorry. Please. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I need you. I need you to be there when I get home. Please! Fuck! I'm sorry. Please stop ignoring my calls! I love you."

With shaking hands, he ended the call and redialed your number. Once again he watched you ignore the call, so he left you voicemail after voicemail as the aircraft carrier pulled away from the dock. He apologized as many ways as he could until your inbox was full and you were just a speck in the distance. 

Jake collected himself off of the deck and made his way to his tiny bunk where he sank down onto the unmade bed and cried. What was he thinking? If he had to choose between a life with you or one without you, he wanted to choose you. He fucked up, and now there was no way you were going to listen to him. There was no way you'd be there when he got home. 

He just broke your heart and then his own with a handful of idiotic sentences that he said in place of having an actual conversation with you. If he ever accused you of being less mature than he was, well, he was wrong about that, too. This had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done. 

"Fuck," he groaned as he started unpacking his bag. But your letters to him were right there, and he thought he was going to throw up as he untied the stack and took the top envelope in his hands. 

That would be your revenge in a way. He would spend his deployment opening all of your sweet notes to him. You always did this, and he always loved reading them. But now he'd let them hurt. He would let himself feel pain. 

But he was in no way prepared for what he read in that first letter.

Jake,

I miss you already! I'm probably still on the dock waving and crying, watching you sail away. Eight weeks isn't forever, but I know every day is going to feel impossible without you. And I know you'll feel the same way. So let me send you off with a little bit of hope and a promise. When I told you I had a last minute appointment on Wednesday, I had my IUD removed. And I didn't get another one in its place. I'm ready. When you get back in two months, let's go for it. Let's make you a Daddy.

All my love

He folded the note back up as neatly as you had, and then he tucked it back inside the envelope and sprawled across the bed with his forearm over his eyes. And he didn't move for a long time.

---------------------

Jake was basically useless out of the cockpit. He flew his missions, and completed his training exercises, but he had to force himself to eat and go to the gym. There was no outside communication allowed this time around, so he had no way to talk to you, not that you would have answered your phone for him. 

To make things worse, he'd been rationing your letters to him, spreading out the pain, prolonging the agony. Each one was sweeter than the last, and each one made him ache. But he read that first letter every night before he went to sleep. Because, for the briefest point in time, he'd had everything he wanted. And now he had, well, essentially nothing. And because he had nobody to go home to, the weeks were flying by. He was nearing the end now. Nearing his fortieth birthday, and wishing he could just stay for another deployment. 

Silently, he packed his bag that final morning, but he held onto your letters, wanting to feel their weight in his hand. After nearly seven years of having you standing on the dock waiting for him to arrive home, he was going to have to call himself a cab. He'd go home and process things the best he could without you, but first he would stand there and watch everyone else fall into the arms of their loved ones. 

Jake tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and wound his way down the ramp. He took a deep breath as his boots hit California soil, and he walked slowly into the crowd of people on the dock. The evening sun was still bright and hot as he was jostled around by all of the bodies. Choruses of 'I missed you!' and 'I love you so much!' rang out around him. When he closed his eyes, he could practically hear your voice, that's how well he remembered every single time you collected him here, took him home, and made love to him. 

But when he opened his eyes, he gasped. You were standing off toward the back of the crowd, face expressionless as the setting sun illuminated your features and your yellow sundress. The color of honey. Why were you here? To have your chance at telling him off? Or perhaps... 

"Honey?" he called out, suddenly shoving his way through the crowd. "Honey!" He rushed to you as quickly as he could, but you didn't move an inch. The only thing that changed was your expression, which was turning more apprehensive as he closed in. 

"Jake," you whispered when he was right in front of you. He hated the look you were giving him. There was an awful sensation in the pit of his stomach, a mix of wanting to reach out to hold you, but terrified of the rejection you were probably about to rightfully hit him with. 

"Honey. I fucked up."

You nodded, and the softest smile found its way to your lips. "You really did, Jake."

He dropped his bag to the ground. "Even if you're only here to slap me in the face, will you listen to me for a minute first?" When you nodded, he said, "I was frustrated. I'm getting older. I'm getting old for my career. I'm getting old to have a kid. And I feel at times like I'm too old for you to be satisfied with me."

"Jake, that's not true," you insisted, eyes bright with tears. When he ran his fingers along your jaw you didn't stop him. 

"Whether it's true or not, it's in my head. And I can't get it out," he whispered. "But I love you. I want to be with you. As soon as I told you otherwise, I regretted every single word, Honey. I didn't have to read any of your letters to know I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I didn't even make it all the way onto the carrier before I was calling you."

"I know," you whispered as one stray tear slid down your cheek. "I know you didn't read the note before you called me. I was watching you the whole time."

Jake brushed the tear away, fighting the urge to press his lips to that spot. "Then why didn't you answer me?" he asked softly. 

"Because I was mad. I'm still kind of mad at you. Either I'm enough, or I'm not. What if I can't even have kids? You were just going to leave me?"

"No," he swore, shaking his head. "The fact that you said you were willing to try with me is more than enough. Okay? You're more than enough, Honey. I love you."

You swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd catch up to where you were someday. I never lied to you, Jake. So next time don't try to rush me into something, okay?"

He reached for your hand. "Next time?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Don't fuck up again."

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?" he asked, desperation in his voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

"Yes."

Jake pulled you against him, his lips meeting your forehead as he squeezed you. He let himself cry out all of the pain and hopelessness he had contained the best he could for the past eight weeks as you held him.

-------------------------

Today was his birthday. Forty. Jake was pretty sure he was on the verge of needing reading glasses, and sometimes his shoulder hurt when he got out of bed if he slept funny. But last night he slept funny because you were wrapped around him in bed. So it was worth it.

Things had been a little shaky after you picked him up at the end of his deployment a week ago. He'd begged you to stay with him in his house and work through things. You'd been living with him for so long, he honestly couldn't imagine his place without you anymore. You were having open conversations together, and Jake was finally starting to feel like things were getting back to normal. 

But he hadn't asked you once about your IUD, thinking maybe you'd changed your mind when he was deployed, after he word vomited all of his insecurities on you. No, he wasn't going to mention anything about birth control until you brought it up. So quite frankly, he wasn't quite sure if you and he had had sex with or without birth control last night. 

Jake went through his day, hoping that when he got home from work, you'd be there. And that maybe today would be the day you'd make it clear what you wanted now.

"Honey?" he called out after he unlocked his front door. 

"I'm in the bedroom, birthday boy!"

Jake smiled and headed toward your voice, stopping short in the doorway. You were perched on the edge of his desk wearing that light pink lingerie he loved so much. There was a cupcake on a plate next to you, and as he approached, he watched you strike a match and light the candle. Then you pursed your pretty lips to blow out the match, and Jake was right there. He kissed you, raking his fingers along your soft skin, so thankful you were with him. 

"Happy birthday," you managed between kisses.

"You look like my present, wrapped up all pretty."

Your soft laughter filled him up. "I actually got you a watch, but sure, I can be your present." You hopped down from the desk and ran your hands along the front of his uniform before taking his hand. As you led him toward the bed, you looked back at him, your eyes unguarded. "I'm still figuring out my cycles now," you muttered, shrugging nervously, "but I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating today."

"Honey," Jake groaned. "Say it. Please, say it."

But instead of saying anything, you crawled across the bed, letting him see your gorgeous ass. And when you eased yourself down onto your back and spread your legs wide, you asked him, "Don't you want to fuck a baby into me?"

Jake's eyes went wide as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside along with his undershirt. Then he eased himself down onto the bed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and kissing your core through the lace.

"Say it," he begged, watching you bite your lip and press your head back into the bedding. "Honey."

"I'm ready, Jake. I'm ready to make you a daddy."

With those words, Jake drew your legs back together and gently removed your underwear, letting the lace glide along your soft skin. And when he eased your legs apart again, he groaned. "You're perfect. I can't get enough." He pressed his lips and nose to your pussy, inhaling your sweet scent as he stroked your hips and belly with both hands. 

He could already picture you round and pregnant. He'd been imagining how beautiful you would be as a mom for years and years. When he kissed your belly button, you pushed your fingers through his hair. There was nobody else he'd ever wanted to do this with. 

When he met your eyes, there was a smile playing on your lips as you whispered, "Jake, we're going to have to do this all the time now. You know that, right?"

He groaned softly as he unclasped your bra and let his lips settle on your tits. "Yeah, I know," he told you, running his nose along the undersides of your breasts. "I'll fuck you full of my cum, nice and deep. Keep you full for as long as it takes."

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as he sucked on your nipples and unzipped his uniform pants. And then he was thrusting inside you, and the little sounds you made were the filthiest things he'd ever heard. He went harder, deeper, thinking about how he'd make sure you always had his cum inside you. How you'd smell like him. How he'd be on you all the time. 

"You're gonna look perfect carrying my child," he whispered, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Everyone will know what I did to you. Everyone will know how bad I wanted it."

The way you responded to him was too much. Your back was arched, and he could feel you tightening around him. "Everyone will know," you echoed in a moan. "They'll know you fuck me so good, Jake."

His forehead came to rest against yours as he panted. "You ready?" he grunted. "I'll fill you up right now."

"Yes," you whispered, taking his fingers and guiding them to your clit. With a few slow circles, he had you whining and squirming as you started to climax.

"Stay still, Honey," he whispered, his voice rough now. "Keep it all inside."

You were keening from his words and your orgasm as Jake filled you with his cum. "Fuck," you whined, and it was so loud and needy, he rammed his cock deep and held you to him while he pulsed inside you.

"Don't move, don't move," he whispered, kissing and licking your tits as your fingers stroked through his hair. "Don't waste it."

He was in love with you and the feel of your body. You wanted what he wanted. He would make it his mission to get you pregnant. 

"God, Jake." Your voice was raw and harsh as you said, "I'm getting your creampies around the clock now, aren't I?"

He lifted your hips gently off the bed and watched as he slowly withdrew himself from your pretty pussy as you whined softly. And when his cum started to dribble out of you, he gently fucked you with two fingers, pushing it deeper. "Around the clock," he confirmed. "Now let me eat my birthday cupcake and then I'll fill you up again."

You ended up sitting naked on Jake's lap and laughing while you had to pick the melted wax off of the icing. Then you fed him the cupcake, sneaking a bite for yourself as his cum oozed out of you and onto his khaki pants. He'd fuck you full again later. He'd keep doing it as long as it took.

"Happy birthday, Daddy," you whispered.

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I wrote Jake again? It's becoming a habit now. Thanks for reading this one! And thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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