#like i said - i hope y'all enjoy and thanks to those who read through my rambling!

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

RAW [M] — Lee Seokmin

✧ If you're a freak and you know it, clap them cheeks ✧

In which Seokmin, your sweet doting boyfriend, fucks you raw for the first time, and ends up discovering his kinky side.

✧ Genre: domestic AU; SMUT [18+], established relationship ♥ Pairing: female!reader x boyfriend!Lee Seokmin ✧ Word count: 6.3k+ ✦ Warnings: nsfw warnings under the cut! ✎ Notes: hope y'all enjoy this little seok fic I wrote for you 🤭 was feeling a little feral, so this concept fit my mood perfectly hehe ♕ Shout out:  thanks to my amazing bestie @whipped-for-kpop-fics for making me this masterpiece of a banner AND helping me brainstorm for this one. This one really couldn't have happened without you and your shrexy brain! I love youuuuu 💖 and thank you thank you thank you @wonuvs for beta-reading this for me!! Very much appreciated :3

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

nsfw warnings: outdoor/public sex, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, spanking, raw sex (the title is there for a reason hehe), heavy breeding kink, feral seok dirty talk, messy creampie (pls let me know if I missed any!)

You had every intention to hang the wet laundry out to dry on this beautiful sunny day. It was a simple task, really, one you could have completed in less than five minutes had you not let yourself get distracted. 

Said distraction came in the form of Lee Seokmin, your sweet doting boyfriend of four years, who had decided to take advantage of the nice weather and switch his usual gym session for a home workout in your garden.

It was quite the sight as he sat on the weight bench, his gorgeous sun-kissed arms and legs on full display, toned muscles pulling and coiling with every raise of his arms. His skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat, making his brown locks stick messily to his forehead. It was almost as if he was chiseled by the gods themselves with how absolutely breathtaking he looked in the bright and glowy sunlight.

You had to resist looking over every few seconds as you attempted to put the laundry pieces on the clothes line. But as the minutes passed, you quickly discovered that trying to suppress the urge to gawk at your hot boyfriend was a battle you weren’t going to win, especially when he was constantly releasing those sinful grunts that sent your mind into a frenzy. 

Before you knew it, the laundry was long forgotten. The only thing that was going through your mind in that moment was how much you wanted — no, needed — to feel Seokmin’s sweaty body against yours. Thanks to your busy and exhausting schedules, it had been a few days since you and your boyfriend last had sex, which, with a sex drive as high as yours, had driven your need for the man to an all time high. 

It was time to do something about that.

Your legs were already moving on their own accord as your hungry gaze settled on Seokmin’s thick thighs, a mischievous smile overtaking your features as you planned out your next move.

Your boyfriend was completely lost in his own world, totally oblivious to the thirsty thoughts floating around in your head as you crept up on him. The headphones he wore drowned out any distracting sounds as he focused on his reps, and with his eyes fully closed, he did not hear you approach him until it was already too late. 

“What the f— baby?!” Seokmin nearly dropped the two 8kg dumbbells he was holding when you jumped him out of nowhere, trapping him with your arms and legs like a clingy koala. 

“That’s me.” You giggled at the dazed look on your boyfriend’s face as you uncovered his ears.   

“What’s the meaning of this?” he breathed, carefully lowering his arms to place the dumbbells into the grass.

You licked your lips, shifting your hips slightly to get more comfortable. “What does it look like?”

“Like you’re trying to kill me,” he groaned before firmly planting his hands onto your sides to get you to stop rubbing against his crotch. 

A sly grin tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That’s what I was trying to go for.” 

“Oh, were you now?” He raised his eyebrows. “I was almost done with my workout, you know?”

“Hmm, that really sucks then.” You tangled your fingers in his messy hair. 

“Give me five more minutes,” he mumbled, briefly closing his eyes at the feeling of your nails scratching along his sensitive scalp. 

“No,” you whined, immediately stopping all movement, much to your boyfriend's disappointment. “I need attention now. It's been too fucking long already.”

You didn't care how whiney you sounded. You needed him right at this moment, and you sure as hell weren't going to wait another minute, especially not for him to finish his damn workout. 

“But I'm sweaty,” he argued with a scrunch of his nose. 

You smirked at that, tightening your grip on his hair as you moved in closer, your lips now less than an inch apart. 

“Even better,” you whispered before teasingly brushing your lips against his. “You're fucking hot when you're sweaty,” you continued, which was followed by you shifting your hips once again, this time with a little more force. 

Seokmin released a sharp hiss at the throbbing sensation your hips left in their wake. The muscles in his thighs automatically tightened, and so did the grip on your waist, all of which you were more than excited about. You got him right where you wanted, and it was only a matter of time before he would take the bait. 

“You're the devil.”

“Only when I have to be.” You grinned, your big twinkling eyes glued to his face as you slowly began to trail one of your hands down his chest. You only stopped when you reached the now very prominent bulge in his black shorts. 

“Fucking hell,” Seokmin cursed under his breath when you gave him a little experimental squeeze. It was just a simple touch, but he already felt the arousal gradually starting to overtake his mind and body. Just a minute ago, he’d been in full workout mode, but now he suddenly couldn’t stop imagining you stuffed full with his cock, begging him to make you cum again and again until you could no longer move. 

You took advantage of the moment and closed the little bit of distance between you to pull him into a deep kiss. Seokmin didn’t resist, already having decided that he’d much rather spend his time pleasuring his pretty and horny girlfriend instead of finishing the remainder of his stupid arm reps. Besides, you were right. It had been a while since he’d gotten his dick wet, so if you wanted to change that, who was he to object?

It only took a few seconds before Seokmin’s lips were just as hungry and forceful as yours, pulling at your mouth with an eagerness that made your gut clench with anticipation. 

His hands navigated down to the swell of your ass, fingers digging roughly into the soft fabric of the yellow sundress you were wearing to press you into his growing erection. You moaned into the kiss at the sudden shift, your own hands moving to grasp at whatever piece of bare skin you could find as you felt yourself grow hotter by the second. 

Your patience was slowly beginning to run thin the longer you sat in his lap with your panties soaked and your neglected cunt begging to be filled. You honestly hadn't felt this needy in a while, so you really didn't want to deprive yourself of Seokmin’s dick for much longer. And you prayed that he felt the same. 

You knew the man liked to drag the whole thing out with a shit ton of foreplay, which often included endless make out sessions and bringing you to multiple squirting climaxes before he even got to fuck you. It was the whole reason sex with Seokmin had become one of your favorite pastime activities in the first place. 

Your boyfriend was a natural at pleasuring you, and he had been since day one. You quickly learned that faking pleasure and Seokmin could never belong in the same sentence. In fact, more often than not, you’ve had to beg him to stop making you cum for fear of passing out from over stimulation. But even in those moments, he usually still managed to pull another few mind-shattering orgasms out of you like the magician he was, and you were certainly not complaining. 

It was just that right now, in this particular moment, you needed him to skip the long foreplay and fastforward to the part where he fucked you stupid. 

“Min, I need you inside me so bad,” you whimpered in between kisses, hoping your boyfriend would get the hint and give you just that. 

He did not get it. 

All you got out of it was an appreciative grunt and a harsh squeeze to your backside that did nothing to satiate the pulsing ache in your pussy. 

Accepting that you were just going to have to speed things up yourself, your hand sneakily found the waistband of his shorts, fingers already tugging the material out of the way to grab a hold of his hard dick. If everything worked out in your favor, you'd be sitting on it within the next twenty seconds. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seokmin groaned, one of his hands clasping around your wrist before you even had the chance to wiggle your hand inside his shorts. “Why don't we go inside before we start ripping off clothes, hmm?”

“No.” Confusion. That’s the emotion that flashed across your boyfriend’s face at the sound of your outright no. 

“No? But I thought you wanted to…?” He frowned, slightly loosening his hold on you when he thought you didn’t want to continue. 

You quickly wrapped his arms back around your waist before grasping his face in your hands. 

“Oh, I do.” A cheeky grin pulled at your mouth. “Right here. You're fucking me here.”

“Right here? O-outside?” Seokmin stuttered, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he seemed to process your words. 

Although your sex life was pretty active and more than satisfying, you couldn’t exactly call it adventurous. Despite many of your close friends believing that you and Seokmin were a couple of kinky fuckers, your sexual escapades were usually limited to your bedroom and definitely more on the vanilla side of the spectrum. 

Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. On the contrary, even the most vanilla sex with him felt a hundred times better than the riskier and more experimental sex you’d engaged in with some of your exes, so you didn’t even really miss it. Still, sometimes — like right now — you wished he’d just throw you around and fuck you into the next day for everyone to see. 

You were, however, very much aware that asking him to fuck you in the garden was a complete one-eighty from your usual bedroom adventures, and it could potentially get you caught by your nosy old neighbors, which was definitely a con. But then again, you were feeling unusually risky today, so you honestly couldn't care less who got to see you getting railed. Your only concern right now was soothing the ache in your throbbing cunt. 

All you had to do was convince your lovely, handsome boyfriend to make that happen. 

“Yes, right here.” You nodded and reached up to undo the first two buttons of your dress, taking note of how your boyfriend's eyes automatically gravitated towards your fingers. “Got a problem with that?”

“Well, uh…” Seokmin swallowed thickly as you popped three more buttons, exposing the strapless, lacy, white see-through bra you were wearing underneath. Your hard peaks were poking right through the flimsy material, which made it nearly impossible for him to rip his eyes away from the arousing sight. Your boyfriend was a sucker for your boobs — or any part of your body for that matter — which is exactly why you hoped the next part of your plan would work.

“I think— uh…” He tried to form a coherent sentence, but failed terribly when you popped another three buttons, his eyes following diligently as your action revealed the smooth skin of your stomach. “What I’m trying to s— that…”

By the time you popped the remaining three buttons, Seokmin had completely forgotten what he was going to say. His eyes were practically glued to your body, in particular to the matching see-through panties that left little to the imagination. They gave him a perfect view of your puffy folds and the arousal seeping through the already drenched material. 

Seokmin was — understandably —  having a hard time keeping it all together.

“Well?” You suppressed a grin to hide the fact that you were thoroughly enjoying the effect you had on your handsome boyfriend. “You gonna help me undress or do I have to do everything myself?”

You got your answer when he planted his lips back on yours without another word, hardly giving you a second to breathe as he pushed his tongue past your lips. You instantly melted against him as your body flooded with heat once more, your hands fumbling to grasp onto his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

Seokmin’s fingers made quick work of your bra, skillfully unclasping the constricting garment and throwing it carelessly in the grass. He took a moment to admire your newly exposed flesh, eyes darting from one nipple to the other before they drifted back down to the drenched panties hugging your cunt. 

He subconsciously licked his lips as he imagined his face buried between your legs, drowning himself in the taste of your sweet juices while you screamed out his name. 

“Stop staring like a creep and do something, please.” Your hand was back in his hair, fingers tightly gripping onto his locks as you pulled at his head, forcing him to rip his eyes away from your pussy and back up to your face. 

“You want me to do something?” An amused smile took over your boyfriend's features as he took in your desperate expression. 

“Yes!” you nearly cried, feeling seconds away completely losing your shit. “I swear to god, Seokmin. If your dick is not inside me within the next twenty seconds I’ll d— ah!”

You didn’t get to finish the rest of your sentence as you were cut off by your own shriek, eyes going wide with shock as you gaped at a smug-looking Seokmin. Just a second ago, you’d been sitting in his lap, but now you suddenly found yourself trapped beneath him, sprawled out on the metal workout bench and completely at his mercy.  

“You'll do what, baby?” Seokmin smirked triumphantly at your stunned face.

“Forget that,” you breathed, using the grip you had on his hair to pull him in for another kiss. “Fuck, that was hot. I want more where that came from.”

“Noted.” His eyes darkened as he pulled back slightly, and you released the grip you had on his head to allow him to lean back further. 

Your belly fluttered with anticipation when he moved the fabric of your dress aside to make contact with your bare skin. His hands teasingly began to trail down your sides, sending a series of tingles down your spine as you let your mind run wild with desire. 

A shaky breath left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked his fingers into your underwear, excitement filling your body instantly. You were already starting to lift your hips, eager to help him get rid of the one thing separating your cunt from his hungry gaze. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to pin you back down and tear your panties right off your body with a single move. You were left speechless once again, watching as your boyfriend proudly held up the torn lace before letting it fall to the ground. 

That was definitely going on your ‘Hottest Lee Seokmin Moments’ list.  

“You’re really trying to drive me insane over here,” you mumbled when you’d finally found your voice again. 

“You ask, I deliver.” Seokmin chuckled and continued to pull his shirt over his head in one smooth movement, revealing a set of mouthwatering glistening abs and a little dark happy trail that disappeared into his black shorts.

“Good.” Your eyes shifted back up to his with a new determination, your legs slightly opening to give him a nice view of your slick cunt. “Then I’m asking you to fuck me next.” 

With one hand, you reached for the waistband of his shorts, fully intent on tugging it down just enough so you could pull his dick out and guide it into your dripping hole. 

But Seokmin had other plans. 

“Now what?” you whined when his hands stopped you mid-move, wrapping themselves around your wrists just like he’d done before.

What would it take for a girl to get some dick from her boyfriend?

“Not so fast, baby. I'm gonna take care of you first.”

You shook your head in protest. “But I don’t want to wait any longer, Min. Please.”

“Do you want my dick or not, baby?” You’d never nodded faster. “Then be a good girl and spread those legs wider for me.”

That little command had you automatically spread your legs wider, a soft moan rolling off your lips as your walls clenched hard around nothing. Never in the time you’d been with Seokmin had he called you a good girl, but you found that you liked it… a lot. And you wouldn’t mind if he called you that more often from now on. 

“Oh? Does my baby like being called a good girl?” Seokmin smirked, his dark orbs burning into your own as he pushed your legs back as far as you could manage.

“Yes, fuck… so hot,” you whimpered, your legs twitching when you felt his hot breath ghost over your glossy cunt. 

“Keep being good and I’ll keep calling you that,” he murmured right before dipping his tongue between your slick folds.  

The debauched moan you released in response was enough to make Seokmin’s cock jerk uncontrollably inside his shorts. In return, he released a deep groan of appreciation, sending a wave of delicious vibrations to your core that automatically had you try to clamp your legs around your boyfriend's head. But Seokmin, who was way ahead of you, had such a tight hold on your thighs that it was nearly impossible to move. 

He used that grip to bury his entire face in your pussy, hardly giving himself room to breathe to completely drown himself in the taste of you, determined to get you to squirt your juices all over his face. 

With his skillful tongue alternating between flicking and sucking on your sensitive clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure in all the right spots to bring you to the edge, it took less than a minute before you were moaning his name like a mad woman.

Seokmin relished in the lewd sounds he pulled from you, and the way you desperately gripped at his hair to steady yourself as he devoured you, completely drunk on the taste of your pussy. His dick was painfully hard, straining against the inside of his shorts, practically begging him to relieve some of that agonizing tension. But in all honesty, chasing his own pleasure was the last thing on his mind right now. All that mattered was you, your climax, and nothing else.

It was even at the point that he'd momentarily forgotten you were doing all of this outside, in the garden, where any neighbor would be able to hear or see the obscene things he was doing to you. Not too long ago, Seokmin would have reeled at the thought of engaging in risky public sex, but now, here he was, eating you out in the garden and enjoying every bit of it, not a single fuck given. 

You found yourself in a similar position, eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body twitching and shuddering from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your nerves. It wasn’t exactly how you’d planned things to go — still no dick — but it certainly helped quench the worst of your sexual cravings. The way the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue said enough. 

“F-fuck that’s gonna make me cum so fast, holy shit!” you whimpered when your boyfriend suddenly slid two of his long fingers inside you, immediately curling them up to press against that sensitive spot he knew would make you lose your mind. 

Seokmin only hummed against your pussy, his eyes catching yours as the corners of his mouth tugged up into a devilish smirk. Then, his hand was speeding up, fingers mercilessly batting against your sweet spot while his tongue lapped at your swollen clit. He watched you succumb to the pleasure with hungry eyes, your face contorted in pure ecstasy as your moans got louder and louder the closer you got. 

“You like that, baby?” your boyfriend rasped, his mouth briefly detaching from your clit. 

Your cunt clenched around his fingers in response, the only sound coming out of your mouth being a needy whine since you couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with a sane response with how scrambled your mind was.

That was met with a sharp nip at your swollen nub.

“Answer me,” Seokmin growled, apparently not satisfied with your lack of words.

You yelped loudly at the unexpected but very welcoming stinging sensation that had your nerves singing with pleasure. “Shit— yes! I fucking do!”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised with a harsh slap to your inner thigh before taking your clit back between his wet lips.

The sound of the pet name unraveled something inside you, drawing every muscle in your body taut as you were abruptly thrown over the edge. The full force of your toe-curling orgasm caused you to cry out your boyfriend’s name, your legs trapping his head between your thighs while drenching his pretty face with your arousal. 

Seokmin was perfectly content like that, groaning into your cunt like a starved man as he tried to catch every last drop of your slick with his mouth. Even when you began pushing at his head to get him away from your overstimulated pussy, it took him another twenty seconds before he finally detached himself, looking up at you with a dopey, satisfied grin and his chin dripping with your arousal. 

“You’re insatiable, Lee Seokmin,” you rasped, chest heaving as you tried to recover from the intense high you’d just experienced. 

Said man leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss right below your belly button.

“Yes,” He moved up slightly, this time placing a kiss right above it, “I am.” His lips trailed over your breast, goosebumps forming along the way, “But…” He nipped at your neck, “you…” he whispered, his lips hovering right above yours, “were so good for me,” he finished, capturing your lips into another heated kiss.

The taste of yourself on your boyfriend’s lips lit a new fire inside your belly, your skin flushing hot with a new surge of desire. It also didn’t help that his hands were back on your thighs, kneading and rubbing at them, making every one of your nerve endings come back to life under his scorching touch. 

“Min, get your dick out and fuck me,” you mumbled against his lips, determined to not take no for an answer this time. 

Seokmin was fully prepared to give into your demands this time, no longer wanting to tease you because he was feeling just as desperate and eager to be inside you. There was, however,  just one little thing he hadn’t thought of before. But now with you sprawled out before him in all your naked glory, begging for his cock, the little voice in the back of his mind decided to make an appearance. 

“Fuck.” He grimaced. “Just hold on, okay? I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning forward to kiss you softly before making a move to get up. 

You quickly grabbed onto his arm to stop him, confusion taking over your features at the sudden switch in mood.  

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Condoms… don’t have any on me. I’ll quickly grab one from inside.”

“We don’t need them,” you blurted out, immediately biting your bottom lip when you realized what you'd said.

Seokmin’s eyes visibly widened at your bold suggestion. “But you're not on any birth control. I could actually get you pregnant.”

“Would it really be that bad?” At that, the man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. 

The topic of kids was nothing new between the two of you. It had come up on multiple occasions during the span of your relationship, and it was pretty clear that both you and Seokmin loved kids. The both of you always jumped at the chance of babysitting his two year-old nephew whenever Seokmin’s sister and her husband needed someone to watch him, happy to spoil him and play with him as if he was your own. 

It was no secret that you wanted a big family, and so did Seokmin, so that wasn’t the reason he was a little hesitant to fuck you without protection. He just really didn’t want you to regret anything if you did end up pregnant by the end of it, because a child was a big responsibility after all. 

But he also couldn’t deny that he wasn’t tempted by the idea of your warm walls hugging his dick without anything in the way, and being able to empty his load inside your greedy, slick-covered hole like he’d always wanted to do. 

It was hard not to give in to that, especially when you were looking at him with those big, seductive eyes of yours.

“Baby, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you shot back, a mix of determination and lust adorning your face as you challenged your boyfriend. 

Seokmin frowned, running a hand through his damp hair. “We should think about this…”

“I already did, and I want this. I wanna feel you… all of you… inside me.” You looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster. 

“Fuck, you’re not making it easy for me,” your boyfriend sighed, feeling completely torn between doing the responsible thing and giving in to his carnal desires. 

“Then stop thinking and just fill me with cum.”

Seokmin gulped, letting out a shaky breath as he felt himself slowly start to lose the battle.

“Shit. Are you absolutely sure about this? Is this really what you want, baby?” he asked, placing his hands on either side of the bench to cage you in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to touch your nose to his. “If you're asking me if I want you to fuck a baby in me then yes, I totally want that,” you breathed, a small smile gracing your face.

Seokmin’s dick twitched in his shorts at your declaration, unlocking a new level of desire that he didn’t know existed. His body was full-on buzzing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt the gears in his mind switch to a whole different setting. 

You noticed the change in your boyfriend the moment the words had left your lips, the uncertain expression that had been on his face just now making way for a much more ominous expression, one you didn’t quite recognize. 

“Min?” 

“Bend over.” 

“O-okay.” The slight edge to his tone had you scrambling to turn around for him, nearly causing you to fall off the bench in the process as your legs got tangled up in your dress. You planned to rip the clothing piece off your body to make your life easier, but the sudden hand pinning your wrist to your back made that impossible.

“Dress stays on,” your boyfriend’s low voice sounded from behind you as you felt him flip up the material to reveal the supple skin of your ass.

You were about to protest, but the harsh slap to your behind that followed made you think twice about opening your mouth. The impact of his hand connecting with your tender skin pulled a soft whine from you, leaving you with a pleasant stinging sensation that sent a hot streak of arousal right down to your pussy. 

There was barely any time to recover from the first slap before he delivered a second one, this one even more intense and brutal than the last one, forcing you to fight down a scream as you jolted forward, barely able to keep your balance since you only had one hand available to steady yourself. 

Your boyfriend was no stranger to delivering the occasional slap to your ass, but it had always been in a loving kind of way and never like this… so rough and thrilling. So if this kind of spanking was your boyfriend’s reaction to seeing you bent over in your half-discarded dress, then you had no problem keeping it on.

“Such a good girl for me,” Seokmin groaned, his cock twitching once again as he watched your ass jiggle for a third time when his hand reconnected with your delicate flesh. You could only moan in response as you felt yourself get wetter with every slap, hand gripping onto the bench for dear life while you let your boyfriend have his way with you. 

Only after the tenth slap or so, when Seokmin noticed your legs were close to giving out on you, he released the wrist he was holding and allowed you to take a breather while he rushed to shove his shorts and underwear down his legs, finally freeing the raging boner he’d been neglecting for the past twenty minutes.

The man didn’t waste any time as he grabbed onto your waist with one hand, lining up his engorged tip with your dripping cunt with the other. 

A shudder ripped through him when he pushed forward, greedy eyes fixed on his cock disappearing between your ass cheeks, slowly getting enveloped by your tight walls as they made room for him. 

It was unlike any feeling Seokmin had ever experienced. Although he was barely halfway inside, he was sure he wasn’t going to last as long as he usually would have. Without the usual barrier in the way, he was able to feel it all, every little sensation — the warmth radiating off your walls as he slid in further, your creamy slick drenching his cock from head to base — it took everything in him to stop himself from bursting as he imagined how good you’d look with your ripe cunt stuffed full of his seed. 

Seokmin’s pupils were fully blown by the time your ass connected with his pelvis, his jaw clenched and the grip on your waist bordering on bruising as he momentarily stilled to let you both get used to the new feeling. 

You weren’t doing much better, trying to deal with the blissful ache whirling in your stomach as you tried to accommodate the familiar stretch. Only this time, you were able to actually feel the bulging veins forking along his length as they throbbed against your inner walls in the most intoxicating way. 

“Shit, Min,” you moaned, tightening your grip on the bench, “Just fuck me already. Feels so damn good like this.”

At your plea, Seokmin pulled his hips back slightly, slowly dragging his throbbing tip along your sensitive walls before abruptly burying his entire girth back inside your warm cunt with a loud groan.

“Yeah? Like that?”

“Yes… harder,” you whined, impatiently wiggling your ass in search of more of that delicious friction. 

“Fucking gladly,” he muttered, moving one of his hands to your shoulder before repeating the motion again, only this time with a lot more force and speed, which earned him a series of salacious moans that went straight down to his pulsing cock.  

It didn't take long for Seokmin to completely lose every bit of sanity he possessed as he vigorously drove his hips into your ass, your pussy squelching loudly every time his cock slammed back inside your slippery hole. 

He’d never felt like this before… fully overtaken by this primal need to breed you like the good girl you were, completely set on ruining you with his cock and stuffing load after load of cum inside your hot cunt until you couldn’t fit anymore. 

The regular Seokmin, aka the sweet man who made you breakfast every day and made sure you had absolutely everything you could wish for, would have been a messy blushing puddle with all these nasty thoughts running through his mind. But this Seokmin, the pussy drunk, sex-crazed man who was fucking you as if his life depended on it, only felt himself get more riled up with every new lewd thought that entered his mind, not feeling bashful in the slightest. 

You honestly didn’t know where the hell this Seokmin had come from, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be the last of him. His rough thrusts had you feeling like a complete wreck in the best sense of the word, causing you to release an obscene number of sounds you didn’t even know you could make. It was no doubt the best dicking your boyfriend had ever given you, but too much for your body to keep up — you discovered that when your legs suddenly decided to give out on you mid-thrust. 

Fortunately, your boyfriend was prepared and caught you just in time, firmly wrapping one of his beefy arms around your tits to press you against his bare chest, while his free hand clamped around your neck, forcing you to tilt your head up to the clear blue sky as he continued to pound into your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy,” Seokmin growled into your ear, his breath hot against the side of your face. “Gonna fill it with my cum, fucking show the world you’re mine… get your pretty belly round with my baby,” he continued, never slowing down his unrelenting pace.

“God, yes!” you moaned, eyes once again rolling to the back of your head as your walls fluttered in response to the filth rolling off your boyfriend’s tongue. 

“Dirty girl. You like the thought of me fucking a baby into you?”

”Y-yes, fuck… want it, want your baby!” 

You didn’t think it was possible but Seokmin’s hips sped up even more after you’d said that, making you cry out loud as you clung onto his forearm to center yourself.

“Gonna fill you up like you deserve, stuff you full till you can’t walk. This pussy is fucking mine… mine to claim.” Seokmin had fully lost himself at this point, spewing all the filth he could think of, completely and utterly enthralled by your sweet raw cunt sucking him in so deliciously.

“Oh god, Min, need you to cum in me,” you rasped, feeling the coil in your stomach start to wind and tighten as your boyfriend continuously battered against your sweet spot. 

“So fucking desperate. Such a good girl.” That was the moment Seokmin released your throat and lowered his hand to attach his fingers to your clit, rubbing sloppy figure eights into it while his dick continued to stretch you out.

“Faster… faster,” you urged, feeling your body tense at the sudden surge of pleasure shooting through you. 

Seokmin listened to your pleas and sped up his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” you whined, feeling like you couldn’t hold it anymore. “Gonna cum… gonna cum!”

White briefly flashed before your eyes as you came with a choked gargle of your boyfriend’s name, your cunt clenching around his cock as your body shook violently from the overwhelming sensations. 

Seokmin didn’t stop at that, feeling like he was seconds away from reaching his own high. With your fluttering cunt continuing to hold his dick in a chokehold, and you begging for his cum in his ear, it didn’t take him long to get there. 

With one last well-timed thrust, Seokmin buried himself all the way inside you, letting his own orgasm wash over him as he felt the first spurts of cum coat your inner walls. Both of you groaned in delight at the unfamiliar but arousing feeling of Seokmin’s cum filling you up for the first time. 

Heat bloomed inside you as your boyfriend continued to spill inside you, holding tightly onto you as he rode out the remainder of his climax. 

“Fuck, Min, so much cum,” you whimpered when you felt his seed begin to drip out of your swollen cunt and down your thighs. That’s how much there was. It felt like there was no end to it. 

“Pussy feels so fucking good, can’t stop cumming,” he panted against your neck, moving his hands to rest on the smooth skin of your stomach.

You smirked, tightening your walls momentarily to pull a little whine from your boyfriend.

“Well, let’s say that I’m not complaining.”

Only when Seokmin’s cock had fully softened and there really was no more cum to give, he reluctantly pulled out of you, not being able to stop himself from gawking at the big globs of cum dripping out of your pussy with his cock no longer holding it in. 

“Min?”

”Huh?” 

Despite your extremely wobbly legs, you managed to turn around and threw yourself at the man in front of you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stared into his eyes with a cheeky smile on your face. 

“I love you, you know that? You’re a fucking freak!” 

Seokmin’s cheeks began to flush at your exclamation, his eyes quickly averting yours in an attempt to escape your intense gaze. 

“Oh…. uh, that? Well…” he stammered, one of hands coming up to rub at his neck.

“Are you seriously acting all shy on me now when you just fucked my brains out?” You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Well, when you put it like that…” He chuckled, a dopey grin on his face.

“Promise me you’re gonna show this side of you more often.”

Seokmin raised his brows in surprise. “You sure? It wasn’t too much?”

“Fuck no.” You shook your head. “It was definitely some of the best dick you’ve given me.”

“I guess I have no choice then, do I?” He smiled widely.

“Nope. Besides,” You leaned in to kiss him softly before whispering seductively, “if you wanna give me a baby, we better do that many more times, just to be sure.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Then your boyfriend scooped you up without another word, your surprised shriek echoing through the garden as he hurried to rush you inside the house, eager to do it all over again.

© All rights reserved — ourdawnishotterthanourday // Please do not repost or edit any of my works without my permission!! If you see any of my works outside of this Tumblr, pls report it to me asap. Thank you in advance!

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS LITTLE SEOK SMUT HEHE! Would be amazing to hear your thoughts on this one 😋 and PLEASE look forward to the next one 👀 I got some good ideas planned for y'all!

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[mypoisonedvine]

"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately.  No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it.  And believe it or not, he wanted more than that.  Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone.  He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night.  Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you.  He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job.  It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels.  The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security.  This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window.  His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs���

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation.  But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

~

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you.  He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with.  Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you.  It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction.  Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong.  This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been.  His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike.  God, did he really have a crush?  How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said.  He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive.  "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer.  Like fish in a barrel.  "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again.  "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious.  Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about.  He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson.  It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him.  “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained.  “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying.  And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still.  A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do.  And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people.  You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again.  He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it.  No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all.  Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive.  Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied. 

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around.  Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own.  I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled.  “For me it’s probably cocktails.  I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess.  Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected.  All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh.  “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration.  After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself.  Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far.  Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment.  “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown.  Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off?  You’d seemed so flattered before.  “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice.  “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face.  “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there.  So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch.  “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there.  I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly.  “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on.  “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace.  “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply.  “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself.  Bitch.  But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course.  Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted.  Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician.  But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

~

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him.  He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties.  “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him.  But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going.  Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth.  “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck.  “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while.  “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long.  That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait.  I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything.  “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet.  It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day.  Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that.  “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face.  “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly.  “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned.  “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers.  Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself.  Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen.  And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours!  Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek.  “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this.  Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest.  “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

���Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck.  “You’re right— you can do whatever you want.  I can’t stop you.  Isn’t that what you wanted to prove?  Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated.  “No, no— you wanted me.  I could tell.  Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you.  “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.  

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts.  “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come.  “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick.  “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic?  That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only.  That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least.  You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.  

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved.  “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin.  You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.  

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself.  You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head.  He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip.  “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head.  “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say.  Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.  

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.  

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further.  His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum.  "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled.  You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away.  Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other.  "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.  

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking.  Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you?  Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open.  Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course.  Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely.  “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips.  “So wet.  Fuck.  When’d you get like that, huh?  Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly.  “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed.  “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction.  There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips. 

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless.  “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised.  “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside.  He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks.  “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl.  Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet.  He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head.  “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned.  “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on!  Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this.  From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening.  Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly.  “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you.  You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside.  “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, it’s tight.  Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town.  I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this.  The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment.  “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously).  “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend.  You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust.  Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life.  “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to.  It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this.  “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once.  Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder.  He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore.  Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck.  One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss.  “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him.  “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again.  That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late.  “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this.  “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair. 

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole.  “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain.  “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper.  Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling.  “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See?  Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb.  Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck. 

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass.  You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster.  “Needy little slut.  You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone.  “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue.  "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction.  "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why.  It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird.  Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.  

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting.  But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back.  Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected.  You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly.  “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly.  “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him.  For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure.  “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going.  “Fuck!” you screamed.  “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.  

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something.  Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized.  Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder.  “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll.  Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries.  If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good.  You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious.  And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless.  You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually.  Shameless.  Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed.  “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.  

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.  

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm?  Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that.  “What?” you just asked groggily.  “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going.  Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific.  “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing.  But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could.  You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor.  Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him.  He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat.  “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest.  You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.  

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved.  It’s over, he’s finally done with you.  You did it.  It’s over.  But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you.  “You see it, don’t you?  He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time.  His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing.  You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that.  Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you.  But what had you done wrong?  All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person… 

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder.  “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek.  “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault!  I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly.  After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence.  “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took.  Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you?  Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?” 

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience.  You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that.  I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked.  “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself.  “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

[gangplanksorenji]

No Control

Pairing: IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

Word Count: 3229

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This is a legit BFH fic induced because I've been so down bad for 7 Rings Gaeul and you probably know why though... Also, this is unedited and rushed and hoping y'all enjoy reading this BFH fic. Have a great day!

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The fanchants uproaring alongside the ebullient shouts of the crowd never fails to send shivers down your spine, maybe, another cause would be the performance of the girl that absolutely killed the stage with her charisma. She never fails to make everyone drop their jaws on how incredible she performs and it's in her blood—and you swear to god, she's going to break the Internet with this remarkably hot performance.

You've been with her through thick and thin, comforting her whenever she's at her lowest point and being the paramount of all fanboys whenever she performs—all you ever know is that you're her number one fan and no history books can erase that even until the end of time.

The way her hips sway; her expressions exuding class and charisma; her vocals ringing around your ear that can absolutely melt you—it's everything you could expect for, well, you always expected her to serve and nail every performance she becomes in but not this hard.

God, you can't help it. She probably knows what she's doing and maybe you're the only one who can decipher the context clues—let me give you a hint: it's the way her eyes flirtatiously winked at the camera and lets her know how much she'll seduce you.

Well, you expected that—you always know she's giving her two-hundred percent on stage and knowing that you'll be watching and coming, she almost doubles those efforts and she doesn't really need to but she has to.

Maybe for her… to you…

As the stage ended, the pandaemonium of cheers broke out loose, every person admiring Gaeul's performance and anticipating for the others. As you're in the same boat with the others, a single notification lit up your phone enough to capture your attention as your eyes averted towards the blue pixels and oh god… it's her.

It was nothing much, maybe just Gaeul texting you immediately, wanting to know if you liked the performance—of course you did and probably else will be answering the same too—but it was something out of the blue… and you like it.

“Come to the dressing room quickly. Go in a hurry, I had let the staff know you're coming so they'll let you in…”

Well, that was unexpected but you didn't care. So, immediately, you excused yourself in the crowd and rushed towards their dressing room and once you got there, you couldn't believe what you're seeing.

Of course before that, you knocked on the door, nervous yet anticipating something only to know that it's only Gaeul inside the room and nobody else was there, not even a single one. 

“Where… are the o-others, Gaeul?” You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling uneasy as you didn't expect that it's just her inside yet you didn't really complain about it further—in fact, you love it when it's just the both of you alone together.

“Oh, they're preparing for other members' stages. I said to my manager and the staff that I need to be alone for a moment because of you!”

And then, she suddenly hugs you tight as you can see her gleeful smile, radiating around the room and rejuvenating your happiness. She faces you again with those endearing eyes and asked you if you like what she performed—

“Oh come on, Gaeulie—of course I really love it! God, you don't know how great your performance was! The crowd is absolutely screaming and really cheering for you!”

That earns a sheepish smile from the eldest, the curvature of her lips forming a smile that's too radiant to be described as thanking the fans and especially, you. You then kiss her forehead as a reassurance, and she whimpers silently because of your actions.

“Well, Gaeul, I know I'm here for a reason, right? Then what is it?”

“Hah, that? Oh, baby—” Gaeul places her hands on your chest, feeling the emanating heat of it even still with her gloves on as she looks at you right in the eyes, a look capturing your soul, demanding to be under her spell as she captivates you with her seductive aura. “—you don't know how much I'm feeling so different once I perform on that stage. You know the buttplug you gifted me a month ago?”

No, she didn't. No way on this earth she had that on—

“Yes, baby. I know what you're thinking…” Gaeul traces her finger onto your chest up to the heat of your abdomen, feeling the rock-hard abs she always loved to touch. “You can't believe it, right? But, yes, I performed it with that on and hope to god no one notices because that would be a little embarrassing if someone notices and of course baby, I made it sexier just for you—” Gaeul inches her face closer towards yours, her hot breath brushing towards you cheek as she allured you even more, yourself flustered upon this sudden escalation of this situation. “—and I became so horny after the stage to the point that I want to relieve it with your help, baby.”

God, she invites you so fucking well—you want to resist the temptation but seeing Gaeul being this needy and hot makes it hard for you to resist

Luring you to her utmost lustful desires is the first thing you wanted to hear escaping her lips, and you're loving this.

Yet, of course, she's still going to perform later so you're really hesitant about this—

“That's the point, baby. Let's not waste time here. Come on, now, baby—please, I want to feel you inside me…” Gaeul unbuckles her belt, getting ready for what's about to come. You then warned her about everything that may happen if they get caught and the possible consequences but she didn't seem to care at this point, the primal lust taking over her and letting it control over her body.

“Please, baby—I want you right now—”

And you agree. She kissed you because of it and there's no reluctant thing that brushed off your mind while thinking of it. You then kiss her neck, suckling on the soft skin gently and nibbling your tongue onto it as she moans silently in response. 

“I'm s-still sweaty, b-baby—ahh…”

“Doesn't matter, Gaeul. I love it when you're this hot.”

You continue suckling onto the porcelain skin as courses her way on undressing her bottom half. Still with that faint concern, you ask her how much time the both of you have until the no-return.

“Probably twelve minutes, baby—please, I need you inside right now! Please!”

Undressing your bottom-half completely as well, you tell her how she wants you as an answer immediately linger around your ear, your eyes lit up because of the thought of what she likes to do with you.

“I want to ride you, baby—oh god!” Brushing your fingers over her labia, she squeals uncontrollably as she tries to silent herself but fails to do so, earning a glare of trepidity directed towards her. She then brings her hands on her mouth, closing it as you continue teasing the heat of her lower lips. In response of your 

“Please, we don't have much time! I sweat, baby—please! Just do this sometime but not now!”

She begs for you and teases her within your own accord. You just need her to get herself wet enough for what you're about to do and with the thought of not prolonging the tease, you then stop fingering her pussy and immediately lay down at the leather couch, getting ready for what's about to come. Gaeul pounces at you like a wolf on its prey—and the only thing she's preying is your cock and you. 

You really hate to see her outfit get undressed—that's the reason why you got down bad for her at the moment: they way she looks spectacular and sexy in it. But, it doesn't matter, because you also wanna feel her walls clenching around your shaft at this given moment, also considering how the both of you have such a limited time for a hot, steamy session.

“God, Gaeul—if your pants only had a hole, I would love to see you riding me with these pants on—you looks so fucking sexy in this.”

“Oh, thank you, baby~ Glad you liked it!”

Getting a better angle at straddling your lap, she places her hand at your chest for support and strokes your shaft gently with the other, getting you fully-erect and in no time, she's now a step closer to engulfing the desired promised land.

“Oh god—baby! You're s-so fucking big—s-s-shit!”

And she’s so fucking tight. Her pussy grips onto your entire length like there’s no tomorrow and it’s probably for the best since the time is limited. She supports herself for the time being, getting used to the entire length of your cock as she gyrates her hips, herself starting to move up and down is probably the most euphoric thing the both of you are experiencing. 

Of course, it’s natural. The both of you are just exchanging moans and praises towards each other as the sudden serotonin running down your veins unable to make you think straight nor articulate such words—her pussy clenching in each bounce she does hypnotizes you into the abyss of lust that you couldn’t escape and all you need to do is to submerge through it, deeper.

In response, your hips thrust upwards as a recoil from her actions but she stops you, saying that she wants to ride you at a pace that she likes and not in accordance with what you want. She knows you want to help her, but being the (im)pure angel that she is, she lets herself do the job as you completely relax yourself, in a state of bliss and tranquility. The clapping of her cheeks towards yours becomes so redundant that it reverberates around the room. You find it hotter as you can see her thighs jiggle, the muscles ricocheting in every contact it makes on your skin.

“Gaeul—god, you ride me so well. You missed this, didn't you?”

It takes her seconds to respond as the overstimulation makes it hard to comprehend your question. “Y-yes, b-baby! I m-missed riding t-this big cock of y-yours! Y-you don’t know h-how long I’ve been w-wanting this!”

With minutes and minutes of Gaeul fucking herself onto your cock and riding you until her own ecstasy, she orgasms without even warning you, her legs convulsing and her pussy constricting around your cock as her nectar streams like a rivulet. She almost screams because of the sudden course of pleasure as your hands assist her as she came harder than what you’ve expected. Even after her orgasm, the cock-drunken Gaeul still wants more and you’re willing to give it to her no matter what happens.

“B-baby…”

“Yes, Gaeul?”

She then immediately reaches for your necktie and pulls you closer to her, unsure about what trick she’s going to show up her sleeve. As she bounces onto your raging length with a leisurely slow pace, you feel the urge of just pinning her down to the couch and fucking her there but on how hard she grips onto your necktie, you probably know it’s one of her growing kinks that she’s now showing you.

“Wanted like a collar to hold on whenever you ride me, hm, Gaeul?”

“Fuck—b-baby—you know me s-so well.”

Yes, read her like a book since she’s been gripping on it for dear life and possibly choking you—you even wanted this thought and made sure that you’ll take note of that whenever the two of you fuck again.

With this pace of hers, there’s nowhere on earth you'll be able to last for a minute as you can feel the tingling sensation on your loins, signaling your near high and probably releasing everything inside her.

“Gaeul—I’m s-so fucking close!”

When she immediately picks up the pace, you lose it. Symphony of moans escapes your filthy mouth as you’re already getting too close but she decides to stop riding you which earns a frustrated expression towards her, puzzled and perplexed on why she suddenly stopped once you’re chasing your own high.

“But why would y-you stop, Gaeul? I was so fucking close!”

She pouts cutely yet seduces you, her eyes burning in deep lust as she wanted to do something more with you as there’s still time left.

“Sorry, baby, but—you can’t cum in my p-pussy right now—no, no, no…”

Gaeul then lifts herself up, getting off on your raging length as she whimpers, feeling empty without your rod inside her. You’re still unaware on what she’s about to offer you as see the silver shining at her buttplug with the help from the fluorescent lights above and the thought of fucking her ass at this moment is beyond exceptional—probably, you’re foreshadowing yourself about it but you could never be so sure. 

She then positions herself on all fours and god—she just looks so damn fuckable and ruinable on that position. You really can’t tell how she wanted you from the first and up to now, you really can’t read what her thoughts might be at the moment but you know she’ll be liking—

“Yes, baby—see this buttplug? I’m just getting ready for what you’re really going to give me for today. You can reach out for the lube inside my purse and you probably know where this is going, right?”

You damn sure know where this is going and you could never be so sure about what’s on her mind. Gaeul isn’t really a stranger to anal sex—the both of you probably onto it even months ago—and that’s the beauty of it: you can experiment different things with her even in these risky situations.

Getting the lube on her purse, you hurriedly squeeze a desirable amount on your hand and spread it onto your still fully-erect cock as you play with the buttplug inside her snug hole, earning a small whimper in need escaping her lips.

“Please, baby—we don’t have that much of a time left—just fuck me in the ass real good!”

And you concur with her in this given moment. You swear to god, you just can’t wait until you feel her snug walls around your shaft and it twitches just by the thought of it. Now with just a few seconds of teasing her asshole with the buttplug, you give her the best stimulation possible before ejecting the metallic object outside her hole and replacing it with your lube-lathered fingers. You spread a good amount inside her hole and onto the rim of it, earning plenty of lustful moans from her as the noise outside it just a background sound as you averted all of your senses towards Gaeul and her only. 

You’ve been longing for this god knows how long and you could never feel better. Within a single second, the adrenaline kicks in like a truck as her walls wraps around your rod, hugging it for dear life as the tightness of her rim makes you groan in pain and pleasure, the lube aiding you to go deeper but she calms you down, letting you know how she needs to get used to the entirety of your member before doing the unthinkable. You give her a breather, a time to comprehend the sudden set of things happening within just a second as she pushes herself, impaling herself more onto your shaft as the both of you add up to the sea of moans that sails down on the ocean of lust.

“Fuck me hard, b-baby. Fill my little asshole u-up all the way to the hilt—god!”

She screams in delight as you push your shaft into her, developing a moderate pace that will soon increase as you’ve only just started revving up your engines. With a harsh grip on her hair, you pound her snug hole in the point of no-return, your hips in full throttle as you’re only clouded with lust and the urge to break her. The both of you didn’t care about the consequences that may happen as the both of you let your primal desires take over you—your animalistic urges dominating every action the both of you do. With the makeshift ponytail you made while ramming her asshole, there’s a point where you pull her head up as the once muffled moans now become deafening screams of pleasure as she cries in every thrust you do.

“God, baby! Please fuck me h-hard and fast, please! Use me, use me, use me, please! Hngg—ahh!”

She’s just uttering useless, repetitive syllables at this point—too broken to think articulately as you pound her asshole, bringing in an onslaught of thrusts which only aims to ruin her.

She’s broken and there’s probably a little time left before your breaking point and it’s all going to break loose from here.

“Gaeul—I’m going to fucking c-cum—please let me cum inside y-you!”

“J-just cum inside m-me, baby! I’m going t-to cum too!”

You’ve never noticed that she’s been fingering herself in tandem with your thrust as you're going to explode within a given second. Count off to five and you wouldn’t even last until four as you groan, giving her the last hammering thrusts before burying your entire shaft in her and letting everything break loose. You paint her insides as you let out your carnal desires fulfilled, filling her up to the brim. After like a full-fifteen seconds of an entire state of bliss, you pull out slowly only to see the little semen leaking out of her hole as she commands you to pass her buttplug, plugging it back onto her hole and wanting to store the cum that you gave her.

“God, baby—that feels, so fucking good… Oh god, you came a lot in me…”

“You felt incredible too, Gaeul…”

You then lean in to kiss her passionately, also exchanging hot breaths in the process. She immediately reciprocates as you smile at her, satisfied with what just happened as she faintly laughs because of the short discourse.

“Oh shit—” Gaeul quickly realizes that she’ll be up for a short amount of time so you hurriedly helped her get dressed as gratefully, her makeup didn’t get messed-up and her hair is somewhat, still styled perfectly. 

“This is not good. Help me get dressed?”

“Sure—are you okay though? Did I fuck you too hard?”

“No, my legs are a bit painful but I can still perform. Don’t worry about me, hihi~ Glad you trained me well in these kinds of situations.”

“You’re crazy, Gaeul…” You mouthed as you can’t believe how risky she took this but somehow, the both of you managed to get off without getting caught. Without wasting a time, you help her put her pants back on as she receives a text from her manager, saying that she only has two minutes left before they group together. 

“Thank you, baby. I’ll text you whenever we are already all set-up, okay? Just enjoy the rest of the concert from the crowd, bye!”

You waved goodbye at her as you still ask her if she’s fine and thankfully, she is and walked out of the room like nothing ever happened, maybe of course with a little leg pain and absolutely used holes.

She’s crazy and you love it, and it’s only a matter of time before everything comes to the right place…

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

More Sherlock & Co Headcanons

Because y'all like the first ones so much.

Mariana is one of those heathens who eats the kernels at the bottom of the popcorn bowl and enjoys it.

John and Sherlock have a rotating cast of answers to the age old client question, "So are you two...?" which only serve to confuse the asker even more. It's an incredibly enjoyable sport. Sherlock often just plays dumb, to John's enormous amusement. It's their favorite inside joke.

When he does actually eat it, Sherlock's go-to breakfast food is a boiled egg and soldiers. Fight me. I will not stand for boiled eggs and soldiers slander they are amazing and Sherlock knows it.

John keeps a collection of bloopers/funny moments he's recorded during cases in a folder on his computer. When he's feeling down, he puts in his earplugs and listens to them. He never fails to get a laugh out of it.

Speaking of language headcanons in the last post, Sherlock speaks fluent Spanish (because of course he does). Sometimes he and Mariana have innocuous conversations in Spanish just to mess with John. He finally gets what it's like to be a stranger watching them all converse in BSL.

Sherlock has a strong appreciation for the musical arts. Once, after a particularly sour case, John took Sherlock to the orchestra to lighten his mood. Sherlock didn't express much outward enjoyment, still drained from the previous week's labor, but the next day the pieces they'd heard rang out through the flat as Sherlock's touch brought them to life from memory on his violin. John found this version infinitely more beautiful than any orchestra. and he even glimpsed the ghost of a smile as Sherlock lost himself in the music.

You know how everyone has a different little doodle they do when they're bored and they've got a pen and a bit of paper around? Well, Sherlock does mandalas and circle scribbles, John does little smiley faces and zig zags, and Mariana writes peoples names in calligraphy.

@obsessed-sketches and I both agree Sherlock wears a really heavy, well-worn coat for the deep-pressure stimulation. And a scarf, because those are absolutely splendid to play/fiddle with and being all wrapped up just adds a whole nother dimension to it all.

John uses Microsoft Edge as his default browser. Mariana's exasperated protests have been completely futile in convincing him to switch and to be honest, who knows if there's any hope left for him anymore.

Speaking of browsers, Sherlock would be such a boss at the 2048 game.

Someday I'm gonna have to write a dance lesson fic, because the idea of Sherlock teaching John to dance for a case lives in my head rent free for literally every SH rendition but these two especially. Sherlock freely infodumping about the history of each song he plays as he shows John how to waltz, John filling the silence with nervous rambling, that rapport setting in and them just falling into step after a few minutes and forgetting time is even passing... I know I mostly HC them as a QPR but dear god the intimacy in that may kill me.

Mariana once introduced Sherlock to the National Day Calendar. National Cellophane Tape Day, National Life Insurance Day, National Raspberry Popover Day, and the likes are now slipped happily into conversations at 221B under Sherlock's firm belief that each one is on par with Christmas in terms of their significance in the public eye. Slay, Sherlock. National Days are awesome.

John makes the cutest sleep noises.

Yk how i said Sherlock likes rainbow sour straps. If you've ever eaten sour straps, you'll know there are two ways to eat them: whole, or by tearing the colours into strips. Clearly, as a civilised human being, Sherlock does the latter.

SHERLOCK WOULD TOTALLY WRITE AWESOME POETRY AND READ IT OUT AND JOHN AND MARIANA WOULD BE STUNNED INTO AWESTRUCK SILENCE

Mariana wears those really big hoop earrings. You know the ones.

AAAAH i should stop before this becomes a mammoth block of text. Maybe I'll make a part three.

Thank you kindly for being unwillingly subjected to my opinions coming to my TED talk.

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons #2

↳ Characters included are Giorno Giovanna, Pannacotta Fugo, and Narancia Ghirga. Gender neutral Reader; implied everyone lives AU.

A/n: Thank you all so much for the support on my last text headcanon list. It was so fun to write, and I hope that y'all enjoy the second-half of the main part five cast. Once again, I had a blast while writing this!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

You expected him to be a dry-texter, in all honesty. Straightforward and to the point; only ever texting out of necessity. You couldn’t really imagine him as the type to sit down, and have a silly conversation over text.

And at the beginning, that was certainly the case.

Being introduced to the team all at once is certainly overwhelming, and although Giorno adjusted well, he still didn’t know you or the others.

Within the team’s groupchat, he only ever spoke up about important matters as that were being discussed. Whenever a more lighthearted conversation arose, usually because of Mista, he would grow completely radio silent.

Does he really read those texts at all? you recall yourself wondering, Or does he tune us out completely? Can’t really blame him if that's the case; this team... takes time to adjust to.

And eventually learning that he always read those conversations, it was one of the first indications you saw of his character. One of the first times you realized he can and will find his place on the team.

So, while you were in the process of just getting to know Giorno, you developed low expectations when it came to communicating with him over the phone. Hell, you hardly expected him to text you at all.

Oh, what a fool you once were.

As the relationship blossoms, Giorno still texts you as usual. With proper grammar and punctuation, as well as the occasional emoji or two.

But he's far from being a dry-texter. On the contrary, he’s rather cheeky.

And because of his position in Passione after a certain point, work soaks up a lot of his time. He’d much rather call you, but that’s simply not an option most days.

So he simply pokes and teases you over text. Sitting alone in his office, he almost always wears a tiny yet pleasant smile on his face when he reads whatever you send him.

Giorno doesn’t send memes or funny pictures often, but when he does, it’s either pure gold or ridiculously unfunny. Merely doing it every now and then to get a little bit of a rise out of you, of all things.

And he loves it even more if you’re the type to tease him right back:

Pannacotta Fugo

Practically the inventor of double-texting.

He’s got no shame in it either, and if anything, he would argue that him sending multiple messages means you ought to reply. He’s not exactly impatient with you, though.

He usually uses proper grammar over text as well. More than that, he’ll lecture anyone case for not doing the same. He even once pointed out a simple mistake Abbacchio made.

It’s merely lighthearted teasing if you’re the type to not use proper grammar over text, though. Fugo wears his favoritism for you on his sleeve whenever he gets on Narancia’s case for the same exact reason.

That said, when he’s angry, forget about grammar- you just want to be able to understand him.

He complains to you over text... a lot. The outlet is good for him, in a sense. Fugo’s incredibly grateful to have someone like you who will listen to him so earnestly, and he expresses that often. Considering his temper, it really does mean so much more to him than he knows how to express.

It makes knowing whether or not he’s genuinely upset or just playing around easy for you to figure out, at least. Are his text messages legible? If so, there's no reason for concern.

Once, he was ranting to you about a disagreement that arose between him and Abbacchio. His texts were steadily becoming hard to understand, and you prepared yourself to talk to your boyfriend through his anger.

But before you could, he stopped texting you all together.

That was rather confusing, as he’s the type to continue blowing up your phone when frustrated. It wasn’t until almost twenty minutes later, when you saw Mista’s contact pop up for a phone a call, that you found out why.

It was Fugo on the other end, calling from Mista’s phone to bashfully inform you he chucked his own phone out of anger and ended up breaking it.

Later that year, you got him one of those expensive cases that could likely protect a phone falling from absurd heights for Fugo’s birthday. He seemed a bit embarrassed over it, but appreciated the gift nonetheless (He won’t admit it but it does come in handy).

You just cannot stop yourself from teasing him a little bit, especially over the phone. His indulgent reactions are worth it every single time:

Narancia Ghirga

He’s bound to make you cry from laughter over text. Whether it’s his words alone or a meme he sends you from his vast collection (His phone is almost always on the brink of running out of storage), making you laugh comes naturally to him.

It’s a source of pride for him, so reacting bombastically over text is exactly what he’s looking for.

Narancia is also a major sucker for gossip, so he loves sharing everything he hears with you over text. From a random conversation he eavesdropped overhead while out, to drama taking place within Bucciarati’s group.

Doing the same in return is greatly appreciated, as he adores hearing your input.

He’ll also text you at random asking questions like “What did Buccarati want me to do again?” and “Do you happen to know where I put my notebook?” Whenever he racks his brain and cannot find an answer to a dilemma, he’s almost always going to voice his confusion to you with little hesitation.

He’s sent you those types of texts... while on missions. Snitching to Bucciarati is not advised.

You’ve tried telling him he could type those sorts of things down in his notes, but he either forgets to do so or wrongfully assumes that he’ll remember.

Narancia, Mista, Fugo, and you have a groupchat separate from the others on the team. Considering the madness that regularly occurs on it, Narancia’s proud to mention he’s the one who originally suggested the idea.

That said, as much as he likes to text you, he’s not the type to text you good morning and good night every day. Rather, he texts you only when “he has something to say.” Which... is often enough on its own.

He will also complain to you over text often as well. Although, it's not usually out of outright anger:

[sunflowersatori]

kiss it better

sukuna x nurse!reader

contents: modern au, f!reader, sukuna is just a guy™️, he keeps getting in fights and coming to the clinic you work at so you can patch him up, some swearing, shoulder relocation (not graphic but it happens)

a/n: i do not know enough about walk-in clinics or joint relocations to be writing this but i hope y'all enjoy (also i have a follow up blurb ready if people want to read that)

//

When you checked the patient walk-in list you tried not to grit your teeth upon seeing the name that was next in line.

You stepped out from behind the desk and into the reception area.

“Ryomen Sukuna?”

It was easy to spot the tattooed man, who smirked slightly when he stood.

“Please follow me.”

He followed as you led him back into the clinic and into a treatment room.

You closed the door and turned around with a frown, “Alright you asshole, what did you do this time?”

He fake gasped, “You need to work on your bedside manner, Miss Nurse. Aren’t you happy to see me sweetheart?”

“No I am not! Don’t you know I have patients to tend to?”

“Yeah, and I’m one of them,” He had a lazy grin as he leaned against the bed. You could see that he had a cut on his forehead with a bruise blooming underneath it. He was cradling his arm as if trying to hold it in place, and his lip was split. To top it off, there was blood on his knuckles too.

He’d obviously been in a fight, just like all the other late nights he’d come into the clinic.

You sighed heavily, “Other than what I can see, what’s wrong?”

“I dislocated my shoulder,” he nodded his head at the arm he was cradling, “but don’t worry, the other guy looks worse.”

You shook your head, “Sit, and I hope that fight was worth it because this is going to hurt.”

He sat and you moved over to his injured side. Even sitting on the table he was taller than you and his broad shoulders made you feel smaller than you were. You took his arm as gently as you could, ignoring his comment about you treating him so well, and manoeuvred it into position. With one push, you popped it up and back into the socket. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna barked out a curse at the pain, and you gave him a pointed look. 

He inhaled through his teeth as you wrapped up his arm in a sling.

After gently securing the sling with a knot at his wrist, you looked up to find him watching you, still grimacing a bit but clearly trying to play it off, “Damn sweetheart, what else can you do with those hands?”

You chose to roll your eyes and not comment. You did feel bad for him for having to go through the pain of relocating a joint, so you let it slide. Instead, you gathered some more minor supplies to tend to the rest of his injuries.

The blood on his knuckles wasn’t his, so it was the easiest to fix with a gentle rub of a disinfecting wipe. The cuts were also relatively simple to deal with, and didn’t even require stitches. You cleaned everything and grabbed a small ice pack for the bruise that was now fully settled on his forehead.

When you were done you took a small step back to survey him, “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“Yeah right here,” he pointed to his face, “maybe you should kiss it better.”

“Why would I do that?” You scoffed and turned to dispose of the trash from your used supplies.

“A kiss always makes it feel better.”

He was grinning at you when you looked back at him, though it was a much less smug expression than he usually had. You wondered if the late hour or the pain was making him a little softer.

“That’s not a service we provide at this clinic,” you said, voice soft and trying to hold back a blush as you opened the door to the treatment room, “You’re all set to go Sukuna.”

“You mean you don’t want me to stay?”

“Sukuna.”

“Fine, fine, you’re a busy lady, with people to help. I get it,” he stood and walked toward the door, but paused in the doorway.

You felt the fingers of his good hand tilt your chin up so you were looking at him, and he leaned down to get close to your face. You felt your breathing stop.

“Thanks for taking such good care of me sweetheart,” Sukuna murmured, low and soft and right next to your lips. Then he was heading back toward the reception area.

You watched him until he turned the corner and was out of sight, and then you stepped back in the treatment room. You closed the door, even if you only had to quickly sanitize the place he had been sitting before the next patient came in, but you needed a moment to compose yourself.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Sure you usually had to get close to him when you treated him, but this had felt different. He’d been a bit sweeter than usual tonight, some of his normal swagger put aside.

You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but normally it was easier to brush aside your thoughts and focus on your work. Now, you weren’t so sure.

What you did know was that you were, against your better judgement, looking forward to seeing him the next time he came into the clinic.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[minghaoyoudoin]

Darling - Epilogue

pairing: mafia boss!hyunjin x mafia boss!fem!reader

genre: some residual angst (very little), smut, sooo much fluff

words: 4.3k

warnings: explicit sexual content, bad language, these two are so stinkin' cute and I'm mad about it (even though I wrote them lol)

a/n: I can't believe this series is finally finished! thank you to everyone who has stuck with it, this au will always have a very special place in my heart. I hope y'all enjoy reading, please leave a like and reblog if you do!

part one here!

part two here!

part three here!

part four here!

You stared blankly into the mirror, taking in your appearance. To anyone else, you were certain you looked the same. Your eyes the same shade, your hair the same length, the small scars decorating your body still ever-present. But you could have sworn there was a newfound glow to your skin–a careful hope in your expression that never would have been there before. And, of course, there was the ring now glittering on your left hand.

Despite what anyone said, there was a freedom that came with revenge. An emptiness, too, though you weren’t keen on evaluating that sadness just yet. Even if you wanted to, the man who had just entered the bathroom door behind you chased any thoughts of it from your mind.

A sly smile crept across Hyunjin’s face when he saw you. His eyes roved over your body, drinking in the bikini you wore through the mirror. He strode forward as if he couldn’t quite help himself, his hands ghosting across your skin while you leaned into his bare chest. He, too, was dressed for the beach, his hair already crusted with seawater and wavy around his face.

Fiji looked incredible on him. You had only arrived here a few hours ago and his skin was already flushed with sun, the salty sea air making his lean muscles glisten with sweat. You couldn’t get enough of him.

You leaned further into his chest, allowing your head to rest on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We made it,” you said, your voice no more than a sigh. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, directly over the small scar where Mr. Chae’s blank had once fired.

He turned you in his arms so you faced him. You ran a fingernail over the long vertical scar in the center of his chest, the only physical evidence either of you had of that night. The scar had faded over the past four months, though it was still rosy and puckered compared to the skin around it. Hyunjin insisted it didn’t hurt, but you still found yourself being unconsciously gentle when you touched the area. He was completely healed now, aside from the mental wounds left on both of you.

You would never forgive Jihyo. It didn’t matter that she was gone–she had paid the blood debt she’d earned by murdering your father. Somehow, though, you felt that she had left this earth without atoning for attempting to murder Hyunjin, too. It was an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, but your therapist–one Felix had insisted you get–said the feeling would lessen with time. You weren’t so sure, but it didn’t hurt to hope.

Hyunjin seemed to notice the direction your thoughts had taken, because his gaze softened as he ran his thumb over your jaw. “I’m right here, Wife.”

You smiled despite yourself. “I can see that, Husband.”

“What do you say we blow off going back to the beach?” Hyunjin kneaded your ass in his hands, pulling your hips flush against his. Your skin flamed. “I think the guys will be fine building sand castles without us.”

You pretended to consider, pointedly ignoring the half-hard length you felt poking your lower stomach. That was how it always was, nowadays. Hyunjin had accepted your “no sex” challenge all those months ago, obviously convinced you would break before he did. You hadn’t. Even after the doctor had cleared him for sex, both of you had been too painfully stubborn to crack first. It made for a lot of cold showers and restless nights.

Now, the evening of your wedding day, the challenge had officially come to its end at a draw. Hyunjin had a half-crazed spark in his eye at all times, looking prepared to jump your bones at the drop of a hat. You were a little surprised he hadn’t bent you over the second the officiant declared you husband-and-wife.

At your silence, Hyunjin looked close to vibrating out of his skin. You shook your head coyly. “I want to go back to the beach. Lee Know and Seungmin will kill each other if we’re not there to mediate.” Your husband threw his head back and unabashedly groaned.

“Fine. I live to serve you, Viper Queen.” You swatted Hyunjin’s shoulder and he pretended to look wounded. He palmed himself through his swim shorts, grimacing. “I’m almost convinced you’re trying to finish what Jihyo started.”

“Not funny,” you griped.

Hyunjin threw his arm around you, grinning by way of answering, and led you out of the beach cabana the two of you had rented for your honeymoon. You greedily inhaled the warm air, scented with salt and brine, as you walked towards the water. Your residence was on the beach itself, much to your delight, and the second you stepped outside your toes squished between fine grains of white sand.

Just out of reach of the waves, indeed building sand castles, were Hyunjin’s Family. Your Family, you mentally corrected yourself. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. Your heart felt full to bursting at the sight of them, the air filled with competitive shouts and screams when one of them sabotaged other castles.

You didn’t mind that Hyunjin’s inner circle had accompanied the two of you on your honeymoon. They were, after all, his personal protection detail, and yours now, too. Then there was the fact that they were your best friends, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of telling them that.

You and Hyunjin weren’t acknowledged as you settled on the sand a few meters away, you between his legs with your back pressed to his front. Jeongin, foregoing stealth altogether, sprinted to Seungmin’s sand castle and kicked a turret over with a screech of joy.

Seungmin’s head whipped in your direction, his eyes wide with rage. “Did you see that?” He leapt to his feet and Jeongin only had a moment to look panicked before he turned and ran. “I am going to KILL YOU!”

Your laughs mixed with Hyunjin’s, low and warm in your ear. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard. You settled further into your husband, still not able to quite wrap your head around the word.

You’d made it. Both of you. Not only were you in Fiji, the place you had spoken of as an impossible dream for years, but you were married. No longer enemies, no longer king and queen of rival empires, but the royalty of one. Your fathers, for all their sins and flaws, rested easy in their graves.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear. You shivered when his warm breath tickled your scalp, raising goosebumps.

“I’m thinking that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you said without hesitation. “I’m thinking that our friends are idiots, but I love them.” You tilted your head to the side so your lips ghosted across his. “And I love you.”

He shuddered lightly. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

“GET A ROOM!”

You jumped but didn’t move away from Hyunjin at Changbin’s abrupt exclamation. You smiled into each other, certainly looking like a pair of lovesick idiots to everyone around you. It didn’t matter.

You were here, in Fiji, and for the first time in your life, you believed everything was going to be okay.

~~~

Seungmin, despite Jeongin’s attempt at sabotage, won the sand castle contest. He’d done a victory dive into the ocean, the rest of them following suit, while you cackled and took pictures. You stayed at the beach until dusk, watching the sunset with your Family and eating soggy sandwiches and fresh fruit until you were full to bursting.

The rest of the boys waved goodbye and offered parting hoots and suggestive hand movements when you separated for the night. They were staying in the cabana attached to yours, all seven of them crammed into the three bedroom house for the next two weeks. The only one who didn’t look elated about it was Lee Know.

You released a nervous breath when Hyunjin closed the glass sliding door behind you, blocking out his friends’ antics. You just stared at one another for a long moment, basking in the wonder of the moment.

“Convincing me to marry you wasn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me, was it?” You joked tightly. You had no idea why you were so nervous–it’s not like you hadn’t done this countless times with him before.

Hyunjin smiled, as always seeing your humor for what it was, and jokingly rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes, you’ve caught me. I still hate you and I’m going to kill you while I’m inside you.”

Your mouth dried slightly at his words but you snorted. “You’d have to catch me first.”

Both of you froze. You hadn’t intended to challenge him. You immediately caught your misstep when Hyunjin’s eyes darkened, a slow smile spreading across his face. Your core tightened, both with nerves and excitement as he ran his tongue over his full bottom lip.

“Run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned and bolted, an exhilarated giggle breaking from your chest when you heard Hyunjin’s footfalls pursuing you. You sprinted around the corner into the hall, nearly knocking a painting off the wall with your shoulder. Hyunjin was giggling too, the sound sweeter than any song you’d ever heard.

You catapulted into the bedroom and, though ending up in that location wasn’t completely intentional, Hyunjin snorted knowingly anyway. You scrambled over the massive bed until you were on its opposite side, bracing your hands on the mattress as you and Hyunjin stared at one another. You were both panting and out of breath from the chase, wide smiles of equal intensity gracing both of your faces.

You feinted to the side as if you’d try to run around the foot of the bed, taking advantage of Hyunjin’s lunge to climb across the mattress again. Unfortunately, despite your flawless battle tactic, Hyunjin didn’t fall for it. He caught you around the waist as soon as you were within reach, effortlessly pulling you down with him until you were flat on the covers, his body half-blanketing yours.

He gazed down at you, grinning and as out of breath as you were. Your breaths calmed, though your smile didn’t fade as you gently trailed your fingertips across Hyunjin’s cheekbone. His skin was smooth and warm, a pretty blush staining his cheeks.

By the time he kissed you, your nerves had quieted. You kissed him back at a languid pace, neither of you battling for dominance or fucking the other’s mouth like you usually did. This kiss was sweet and loving, a promise for a thousand more kisses like it over the decades to come. For once, the thought of spending the rest of your life with Hyunjin didn’t terrify you the way it once did.

Your skin heated against his, your peaked nipples scraping against the material of your swimsuit. You whined quietly when Hyunjin palmed your breast, simultaneously rolling his hips against your core. Your fingers dug into his ribcage then drifted down to his hips, urging him to increase the pace.

After nearly six months of celibacy, you thought you would go insane with your need for him. Hyunjin seemed to share the sentiment, because he loosed an unrestrained moan into your mouth when your hand snaked between you to palm his clothed length. He was already fully hard, an observation which sparked smug pleasure in your chest.

“Not going to run away this time?” He teased against your lips. His tone was strained, shaking with his need to feel you squeezing around his cock. If he wasn’t in your mouth or your pussy in the next five minutes his brain was going to melt out of his ears.

You just moaned instead of verbalizing a response, mostly because the sane part of your brain had already clocked out for the evening. You were going mad with need.

You rolled so you straddled him, pleased by the adoring look on his face as he gazed up at you. Your fingers found the tie at the back of your bikini top, taking your sweet time pulling it loose. Hyunjin growled low in his throat, an obvious command to hurry the hell up. You smiled to yourself as your top fell from you, baring your breasts to him. He wasted no time sitting up so he could suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You both groaned in unison, you at the sensation and he at the taste of your skin.

You ground your hips in slow circles on his lap while he doted on your breasts, switching between them when he felt compelled to do so. He thrusted up against your heat, eliciting moans from your chest. You were already cresting dangerously close to your orgasm and he hadn’t truly done anything yet.

You gently pushed him into a lying position by his shoulders and moved down his body, enjoying the way his eyes focused hard on your every movement. His pupils were blown so wide with lust that only a thin sliver of brown remained. You pressed openmouthed kisses to the skin between his navel and waistband, his knees, the inside of his thighs–you left a love bite anywhere your lips made contact.

He lifted his hips off the bed so you could slide his swimsuit down his legs and his hard cock sprang free, his arousal already gathering at the tip in thick beads. Your inner thighs clenched together, slick enough that you doubted he’d need to prep you at all before he fucked you. Just the thought of the stretch made you dizzy. You were somewhat surprised the two of you had made it this long without exploding.

You experimentally swirled the tip of your tongue across his head. Hyunjin’s hips jerked at once and he released a vulgar moan. He looked so pretty with his eyes screwed shut, his face and chest flushed, that you couldn’t help but moan lightly yourself. You wasted no more time before you wrapped your lips around his cock and hollowed your cheeks.

His fingers tangled in your hair, and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to make you go faster or stop you as you bobbed your head on him. Hyunjin moaned senselessly, his balls already spasming in your hand every few seconds. Each sound he made fueled you to go faster, harder, so intent on making him cum that you could think of nothing else. You willed your throat to relax and ignored your gag reflex with a vengeance when his cock slipped in deeper.

Yet, for old times sake, you released him just as his orgasm threatened to break. Hyunjin didn’t seem surprised, but it didn’t stop him from loosing a frustrated groan when your mouth rose off his cock with a lewd pop. You smiled lazily up at him as he glared down at you, his chest heaving. Even if you didn’t know him so well, you would have known he was close by the tremor in his limbs alone.

You pressed a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Color, Mr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin yanked you onto the bed with enough force that you yelped. You were beneath him in less than a second, his body half-blanketing yours. He shoved your bikini bottoms down your legs and split you with two of his fingers, sinking inside you to his knuckles. You clenched around him instantly, so ready for him that you saw stars the second his fingertips brushed against your g-spot.

He let out a shuddering breath into the shell of your ear at the feeling of you around his fingers. “Green, Mrs. Hwang. And you?” He thrusted his hand for emphasis, his thumb pressing gently on your throbbing clit. You captured his mouth with your own in answer. He didn’t reprimand you for not answering verbally–he was too far gone with desire to bother. Hyunjin just moaned into your mouth at your eagerness, his tongue exploring yours with the hunger of a man starved.

His fingers increased their pace, pounding into you hard enough that all you could do was yelp. Your leg hooked over his, your hand clasped hard around the back of his neck for stability. He watched your face through heavy-lidded eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering each time you reacted to his movements.

You were lost in sensations. At some point you stopped kissing him, instead pulling him until his forehead pressed against yours. Your lips still touched as you panted into one another’s mouths, catapulting so quickly towards your orgasm that you could barely open your eyes.

“Gonna cum?” His taunting question was weakened by his breathlessness. He was completely enamored by you, by every change in your expression and sound that came from your pretty lips.

“Yes yes yes, please don’t stop–” you chanted. He obeyed, his hand thrusting into your center at a pace that had your knees shaking. His thumb drew tight circles over your clit, knowing exactly the way you needed without having to tell him. Hyunjin was so focused on your pleasure that he didn’t think to edge you as you had him. Instead, he moaned with you as your high crested over you in a merciless wave.

You clenched hard around his fingers, your arousal coating his hand. He didn’t slow his movements, rather attempting to work you through your orgasm as long as he possibly could. After months without this, without him, your body felt like it was consumed by fireworks. He whispered rough praises into your ear as you came down, his hand at last slowing in time with the fluttering of your walls.

The second you were able to form a coherent thought you crushed your mouth against his. Even after the orgasm he had just gifted you, you were nowhere near done. He made a surprised noise into your mouth as you rolled, stopping when you were straddled across his hips.

He traced a gentle finger across the curve of your breast at the same moment he licked the fingers on his other hand clean of your arousal. He held your gaze until every last drop of you was gone. You shuddered, certain your face was dark with lust by the gleam of anticipation bright in Hyunjin’s eyes.

You ground your hips in hard, slow circles over Hyunjin’s cock. Between his wetness and yours, his length slid easily through your folds. You groaned in unison as you rocked back and forth, his tip barely catching in your entrance on each pass. When at last you couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted so you could fit his head into you.

He gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place above him. “I’m not going to last long,” he admitted shyly, his voice shaky. You offered him a predatory smile, allowing your intentions to shine on your face.

You slammed down onto him before he could say anything else. Hyunjin’s head kicked back into the mattress, releasing a whine that had your walls clenching again. You stilled, your muscles locking from the shock of taking all of his impressive length so quickly. Neither of you could manage to speak, silently attempting to adjust to the fit without cumming too soon.

When you’d reached your limit, you said through clenched teeth, “Color?”

“Just–” Hyunjin gasped, his eyes closed “–give me a moment.” If you so much as breathed wrong he was going to cum. Somehow, over these months, he’d managed to forget how incredible your tight warmth felt around him.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Hyunjin exhaled deeply. “Green, baby. Do your worst.”

Thank god.

You lifted until just the tip of his cock was inside you and slammed back down, the stretch making both of you gasp. It didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated, thankfully, and that realization was the only permission you needed to let go. You rolled your hips on him faster, harder, tight whimpers escaping your throat with every stroke. You trailed your hand over the scar on Hyunjin’s chest, pleased at the goosebumps that rose on his skin from the contact.

Hyunjin couldn’t seem to get a grip on himself. He jerked and moaned beneath you, seeming torn between closing his eyes and watching your breasts bounce above him. He sat up abruptly, his hands holding your ass while his mouth found your nipple. He sucked hard, as if to ground himself to reality, and you tugged harshly at the roots of his hair.

He effortlessly flipped you over without removing himself from you. The pace he began was ruthless, far swifter than the one you had set a moment ago. You raised your knees until they were nearly pressed against your chest, allowing him deeper between your walls. Hyunjin’s head fell into the junction between your neck and shoulder, and you groaned when you felt his teeth lightly clamp down onto your skin.

His hips began to stutter, their rhythm losing their usual grace. You grinned at the ceiling, your nails digging harshly into Hyunjin’s shoulders. “That’s it, baby,” you breathed, your impending orgasm taking your breath away. You chased it with lethal focus, your need to cum shuddering through your entire body. “Cum, pretty boy.”

Hyunjin groaned heavily into your hair, raising chills on your scalp. His body locked and he froze, unable to continue thrusting as his high raged through him. The sensation of his cock pulsing inside you pushed you over the edge. You came together, each twitch and pulse only drawing it out longer. He began to lightly thrust again, using your heat to draw every last drop of cum from him.

You tried and failed to catch your breath, tracing the lean muscles in his back as he gradually relaxed on top of you. Hyunjin’s weight was comfortable, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck.

You winced when he removed his softening cock from you, predictably mourning the sensation of being full the second it was gone. Hyunjin gazed down at you with nothing short of adoration on his beautiful face, his cheeks reddened and hair sex-crazed. You smiled softly, allowing your fingertip to trace the shape of his jaw.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Hyunjin kissed you gently, reverently, as he drew you into a sitting position. “And I you.”

He left the bed to retrieve a warm washcloth and some water. His process of cleaning you up was just as sensual as his foreplay, a fact which had you aching for him again far too soon. You shared the water, giggling like children each time you made eye contact.

Hyunjin sighed contentedly as he curled around you, pulling you snugly against his warm chest. You allowed your eyes to fall closed beneath the weight of him, pleased at your ability to relax in his presence.

“We just had sex in Fiji,” you giggled. It still seemed so surreal to you. What you had thought to be your life’s mission was over, and you had come out the other side unscathed and with a husband, of all things. All that was left in front of you were possibilities.

Hyunjin chuckled in your ear. “And we will again.” He pinched your ass for emphasis, eliciting a small squeak from you.

It seemed impossible that the two of you had survived so much in such a short amount of time. You were sure that there would be more dangers to come, given the sort of life the two of you led, but the thought of them didn’t scare you as they once had. Whatever life threw at you, you no longer had to face it alone.

Hyunjin’s Family had a saying, one that meant the Hwang legacy would survive even after the world turned to ash around them. You were the Viper Queen, one of the last surviving members of your bloodline, and you were fiercely loved by a man who stroked the embers in your soul until they turned to flame.

Yeah. You were going to be just fine.

Hyunjin’s lips ghosted across your temple like his thoughts were in line with yours. You turned your head so you could look at him, all too aware your eyes were glistening. His gaze softened as he returned your small smile.

“I’m very glad you’re not dead,” you said quietly. Hyunjin had said something similar once, after you survived your encounter with Mr. Chae. Only now could you understand the overwhelming relief he must have felt back then when you lived.

“So am I. You’re terrifying when I’m not here to check you.” His tone was teasing, though he certainly wasn’t wrong. You were a force to be reckoned with on your best days.

You laughed. Randomly, you remembered that your bedroom bordered the cabana your friends stayed in next door. Hyunjin followed your gaze to the wall and he grinned.

“Think they heard us?” He joked, pulling your body further into him. You both jumped in surprise at the two firm knocks that sounded on the other side of the wall. There were several long moments of shocked silence.

You both dissolved into giggles. They had most definitely heard. Embarrassment surged through you in a rush, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could only imagine how red Felix’s face was right now.

It didn’t matter. You were happy, and you had earned it. Through heartache and pain and struggle, you had battled your way to this moment. Your giggles finally subsided and you stared at Hyunjin, basking in the way he gazed back at you. He was yours, as you were his, and no one in the world could take that away.

“Until the ashes,” you murmured. Hyunjin looked near-glowing with happiness. He pressed another fierce kiss to your brow.

“Until the ashes, Mrs. Hwang.”

they finally got their happy ending 🥹 thank you again for your support during this series, please leave a like and reblog if you enjoyed reading!

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

taglist: @midnightchanis, @aerastus, @a-person-with-void, @xhazmania, @coquette-amor, @lenfilms, @cyder-puff, @mongnara-deactivated20220818, I'm sorry to those of you it wouldn't allow me to tag!

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Seven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, an early update from me?? How crazy!  I never update early the world must be ending. I know it's only like a day, but still, it's a day early! For someone reason, it was super easy to write. I don't know what that says about me. xD I want to thank y'all sooooo much for constantly supporting me. When I first started this fic, I honestly thought nobody would read it and that those who did would hate bomb me. Everyone who has commented has been super nice to me, and I honestly can't thank you enough for it. I do want to warn you, though, that there's going to be a chapter in the distant future where were discuss Aegon's not-so-consensual activities. That's all I'm going to say about that. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a steamy one toward the end. ;)

Chapter Warnings: Flash Back, Somnophilia

Prince Daemon opened the door to Madam's brothel like a dark cloud, slowly traveling with the threat of a storm, Dark Sister tapping the frame. Rage was his presence as he entered, though his outward appearance seemed as if he was unbothered. He was on a mission, and he had only one question.

"Where is she?" He asked the first woman he saw, a client on her arm. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Give me one moment Ser, so I can escort this handsome patron out, and I will be right with you." She buttered the man up, her words a purr in his ear as she stroked his cheek.

Daemon rolled his eyes, taking three long strides to the girl and grabbing her by the arm. "You will listen to me and listen well. Forget this fool." She whimpered, letting go of the man's arm as she went to shield her face.

"I am Prince Daemon Targaryen, the man who created the very Gold Cloaks that will burn this establishment to the ground should I snap my fingers." She nodded, eyes teary and lips quivering. The girl was confused and caught unaware by the Prince's presence. He had not been here in quite some time, ever the loyal husband to Princess Rhaenyra. 

"Where is Madam?" He seethed through gritted teeth at her prolonged silence. The whore took a shaking breath, hesitating momentarily as she glanced at Dark Sister, deciding the truth would be better than Valyrian steel through her stomach. 

She leads Daemon to a back room, hidden and out of the way so no simple-minded customers could mistakenly enter. A small fire was lit, and a cast iron cauldron hung over it as Madam stood hunched, her shoulders shaking.

"Madam," the girl spoke softly, and she straightened her posture, wiping at her face as she turned to scold the worker, but stopped short, seeing a former star patron.

"Prince Daemon," she curtsied, sniffling to clear her nose, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" Madam knew she was playing a dangerous game.

"You know exactly why I am here," he replied firmly. Madam tilted her head at her worker, silently telling her working girl to leave.

"I am not sure I do. You know better than anyone that there is no need to come directly to me in order to schedule a session," she said dismissively. 

Of course, Madam knew precisely why he was here. It was the exact reason why she was crying.

"Do not play dumb, Babette. Where is Elaina?" He asked, losing patience.

"I already told you this many years ago when you first asked. My answer has not changed. She went back home to the North." Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes again as he stepped closer.

"I may have believed that lie once, but not anymore. She has no ties to her family." Madam sighed, shaking her head and raising her arms as if talking to a belligerent child.

"I am not sure what you want me to say, Your Grace. That was all the explanation she gave me before disappearing."

Daemon growled, charging at the poor woman and pushing her against the fireplace by her neck. Madam could not react, nearly falling into the simmering stew pot as she grappled for purchase.

"Stop protecting her, Babette; I have no intention to harm. I need answers," he spat.

"I have none to give," she relented, ever the strong woman from years prior. 

"Stop lying to me!" He yelled, shoving her into the hearth, her head smacking the stone. "Where is Elaina? Where is my child?"

Madam was a force to be reckoned with herself, but when put against the Rogue Prince, the man crowned King of the Step Stones, she had no choice but to yield. Her years of hardening were not meant to withstand the flames of a dragon.

"Elaina is dead, thanks to the babe you put in her belly, and that child-- my child," Daemon's grip loosened, a lump beginning to form in his throat, "that I have raised into a beautiful young woman has been taken by your eldest nephew for reasons unknown to me,"

Sadness replaced his rage, a dark, depressing feeling shadowing in the pit of his stomach. 

Yet another woman in his life has died from childbirth—his mother, sister-in-law, wife, and now a former mistress. Did the cycle of maternal loss ever end? The water wheel that was the Targaryen's customs was spun by endless blood and loss. Daemon's face was stone, though his heart was not. A twitch of his lip indicated he was upset by the news of Elaina's death.

Finally, he stepped away from Madam. Was he destined to lose every woman he had cared for on the birthing bed? What would become of Rhaenyra? She had just given birth to Joffrey not nearly two years ago, and she was already filled with the starts of another. She had been lucky, but the Gods' favor only lasted so long. What would become of you once put in that same spot?

"She is with Aegon, yes?" He questioned Babette, sniffing once as he rested his hand on Dark Sister. She nodded, cradling her wounded head, blood painting her fingers. "The Gods only know what that drunkard has done to her," Daemon said as he swiftly left the brothel, a new mission on his mind.

Lyra ducked into an alcove. Her grey cloak covered most of her recognizable face, the shadows of the secret entrance aiding her efforts. The layout of the many secret passages into the Red Keep was slowly becoming etched in her memory. She needed to know them like the back of her hand.

Her little apple, she thought somberly, her heart aching in the palms of gluttonous high-borns. Left to be eaten until there is nothing.

Madam had sheltered you too much from the reality of the world. You were too kind to bare the Targaryen name, too innocent to become a part of their "holier than thou" culture. You were not stupid, Lyra knew that, but your ignorance was simply due to a purposeful lack of knowledge on Madam's part. Unlike most girls your age, you knew about sex, the pleasures a man could receive, but you still had the inexperience as them, and without some trustworthy to guide you... there was no telling what path you might follow.

Lyra stopped at an almost invisible door, the wood untreated and dark within the shadows. She used her knuckles to knock a rhythm into the door, short and legato sounding. She waited, her anxiety boiling inside her stomach as she bounced on her feet. The passing time seemed too long. By now, someone would've opened the door.

"Lyra, you must leave. The castle is in a tizzy with the arrival of-"

Lyra didn't wait for the servant dressed in red to finish, shoving her way into the bustling kitchen of the Red Keep.

"Lyra, I cannot help you right now," Sara chased, tugging her friend's arm. "They are preparing a feast for the royal family!"

Lyra ignored her, running to another hidden servant's passage, her leather shoes tapping on the worn stone floors.

"Where is she," Lyra asked, sprinting up multiple steps. "I must see her. I need to tell her to wait." Sara tripped up the stairs, catching her skirt as Lyra gained more distance.

"If you would take a moment, Lyra, I could tell you," she huffed, catching up to her old friend at the top of the passage. "They are at dinner," Sara finally answered, her breathing ragged. "She met Daemon. I observed through the walls. He was kind to her. I believe there is no ill-will between them."

"That is a relief to hear; truly, it is Sara, but the things I have listened to since she left..." Lyra trailed off, "a girl of her age should not be partaking in such activities. She is far too young to comprehend the consequences fully."

"That is hypocritical, Lyra," Sara scolded, crossing her arms. "I remember us during girlhood. We were not much better."

"That was different," Lyra said. She dismissed any more attempts of scolding from Sara, opening the door as the sounds of music seeped through the crack.

She could see you dancing, hopping back and forth like a rabbit with Princess Halaena. Lyra could not help but smile. Seeing the joy on your face was infectious. It had become a rare sight over the past moons. Partly, because you had just gotten your cycle, your body readying itself to fill its biological purpose. A part of her almost felt guilty for trying to ruin your night with the plans of your escape.

Your laughter carried into Lyra's hiding place as you lifted the Princess. Lyra slowly shut the door, a wan smile covering her face. It might do you good to extend your stay at the Red Keep. You could live as a girl, make friends and play as you never could. It would give Madam a sense of ease to know you were well and to gather the needed supplies for your trip across the Narrow Sea.

Sara gave Lyra a confused look as she retraced her steps. She still needed to memorize them. You would be safe for now, and that was all that mattered as Lyra slinked back to Flea Bottom.

Daemon had escorted you to your room after dinner, silent the entire way. You were thankful for that; if he had sparked conversation, you could not have held back your grin.

Of course, you were still upset with Aegon for stealing you away and keeping his real reason for wanting you at the castle, but how he looked at you... He made you feel like you were the only person worth looking at in a room full of royalty... It made your heart feel full.

Perhaps you were too harsh in judging him? He is still a person growing into an adult, the same as you. You acted immaturely with Ma, and he acted stupidly with you. You would forgive him, just as Ma forgave you.

You thought of Daemon, wondering what was running through his head during that silence. You understood that people believed you were his daughter, but your mother was not alive to claim it as such.

Sara calmly unbraided your hair as Caldia fluffed your pillows, and one of the other girls you had come to find out was named Izola laid a thin buttoned nightgown on the bed. It was nice to be dotted on, feeling more important than you were as your eyes became heavy.

It reminded you of the nights you and Aunt Lyra would pamper each other. She would use extra wages on the day off to gather pastries, flowers, and sweets. You would sit and listen to her odd stories of patrons for that week about how one man wanted her to call him "brother" and cried after he came. You would laugh and laugh as you both stuffed your mouths full.

Suddenly, your chest hurt, your heart skipping a beat, fluttering rapidly to regain its set pace. You clenched your fist, placing it over your heaving breasts as you tried to steady your breathing. It felt like you had fallen from a great distance and landed on your back. Tears swelled in your eyes as your body panicked, unsure of how to respond as it betrayed itself.

"My Lady," Sara spoke with concern in her voice. She had stopped unbraiding your hair, her hands on your shoulders as they heaved up and down. "Are you alright?" She asked, turning to see your frightened expression.

The other girls came rushing over, like swans landing on a pond, as they all gathered around you with concerned looks.

"My Lady, what has upset you?" Izola questioned as she put the back of her hand to your temple.

"My..." You stuttered, clutching your beating chest. "My... Heart," you gasped, confused and scared about what was happening. "I want Auntie Lyra. I want Ma. Where is she?"

You couldn't think straight. Your mind attempted to grasp what was happening, reverting to a terrified child after a nightmare.

"Ma is not here. You are in the Red Keep," Sara attempted to soothe you, unsure whether she should reveal what she knew.

"I-I want to go home," your voice was thick with shedding tears.

"You..." Sara glanced around, unsure, her voice becoming soft and pointed, trying to convey a message with her tone. "You are home."

"No," you cried, yanking at the collar of your dress. "I want to go home! I want to be with my family!"

The gown no longer held beauty when you gazed upon it. All you saw were hands.

You were screaming, your eyes blinded by tears as you stumbled into the vanity, falling to the stone floor. Dozens of pale jeweled fingers become your skin, trying to penetrate your flesh. They consumed you, curling inside as you attempted to pry them away. You pulled and swatted at them, but nothing worked. A never-ending cycle would appear as soon as you broke free of one another.

"Get off," you shrieked, "get away from me!"

You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't see. All you could do was feel their burrowing digits wiggling into you.

"Ma!" You screamed again, though you knew she wasn't coming. "Ma! Ma!" Your voice cracked, sounding thick with saliva.

You heard a loud crashing noise in the background, and you turned to look, but one of the hands gripped your face, forcing you to look back at them. You could see them gnawing like rats through your flesh and bone. Before you realized it, you were being lifted, the bejeweled fingers still all over your skin as someone shoved you into a chair.

Suddenly, they all vanished under a curtain of water, and you finally regained all your senses, looking at staring faces.

Caldia stood panting, a silver bucket in her grip. The other two maids were there, along with the Guard who was stationed outside your room. Sara and Izola were holding each other, their faces red and tears brimming their eyes. They must have seen them too... the hands.

"I came as swiftly as the Gods allowed," an older gentleman in pious brown robes said, bursting into your chambers with another man dressed similarly with a leather bag.

"Maester Mellos," Sara greeted in relief. She released Izola and thanked him with a squeeze. "I do not know what happened. One moment I was readying her for bed; the next..." She trailed off, looking at you with concern.

The Maester turned, seeing a girl who looked like she had run from one end of the Keep to the other, then averted his eyes swiftly.

"For God's sake. Give this girl some clothes."

You lowered your head. While in your fit, you had split the gown down to the waist; you only tore your small clothes a little higher. You covered yourself in shame, and embarrassment biting your ears. Caldia dropped the pale and grabbed your night dress from the beautifully patterned silk bed while Sara and Izola went to pull the tattered slit to keep your modesty.

Maester Mellows continued his examination, listening to your heart and touching your neck and underarms for anything abnormal. His companion took notes, a leather-bound book and feather quill in hand as the Maester whispered his findings. Your handmaids stood in the background, each with worried expressions.

One with a hand over their pursed lips, the middle looking between you and the stone floor, the other with arms crossed tightly around their chest, swaying slightly.

"She seems to be in good health," Maester Mellos declared. All three women sighed in relief, whispering thanks to the Seven. "Though her heart beats like a wild stallion, even when resting." As he continued, their faces dropped, fear rising to replace their short-lived relief. "I recommend deep breathing exercises to steady the pulse, but if something like this were to occur again..."

He motioned to his assistant, taking his bag and rummaging through it until he found what he was searching for. "Take a spoonful of this. Not a drop more."

He handed you an amber-colored glass bottle, a cork keeping it tightly sealed as you accepted it with trembling hands, letting him know you understood.

"Child, do you think you will be able to sleep tonight?" You lowered your gaze as your pride made your tongue feel like lead.

Maester Mellos sighed through his nose, kneeling to your height and placing a hand in your shaking ones.

"Tis alright, my girl. All women suffer hysteria from time to time. A punishment that all suffer in this time. Just do as I ask and all will be well." His tone was soft and kind, as a grandfather would speak to their grandchild, but the contents made you feel insulted.

He uncorked the bottle with a pop, getting a spoon from his bag as he poured the liquid into the bowl. You opened your mouth as he raised it, wrapping your dry lips around the cold silver. It was tan, almost the same color as molasses, and you began to feel skeptical of the powers this magic potion was implied to have.

You nearly spat it out from the taste. It was a bitter flavor worse than the absinthe Aegon gave you and burned your throat just the same. You didn't think to ask what it was, too focused on not spitting up as you forced yourself to swallow, taking a gulp of air with you and burping afterward.

"Rest now, child; the Seven smile down upon you. Thank the Maiden for this being your only ailment, and pray to the others for your continued health. You will be well in no time if you devote yourself to that." You nodded again, pushing yourself out of the chair wordlessly as you climbed into your bed, your handmaid hurrying to help you.

The Maester and his companion took their leave with a swift bow, the Guard escorting them out of your chambers and leaving the four of you alone. You had been nothing but a calm, albeit stubborn, guest in the Red Keep, and they were more concerned than anything. You could sense that they had questions, wanting to know where this sudden outburst came from.

The day had taken too much from you, and you had no more energy to speak as they pulled the silk sheets to your chest, tucking you in as Ma or Lyra would. You had begun to feel the effects of whatever Maester Mellos had given you as the girls left. Your limbs were heavy, and you felt your body and mind relax, sinking deeper and deeper onto a bed of clouds.

Aegon had drowned himself in his cups as always, but he did not desire to explore the Streets of Silk as he usually would at this hour. He sat on the stairwell leading down to your bed chamber hallway, waiting patiently until he saw everyone leave. Seeing the Maester as one of them did startle him a bit. What had happened in the time he was not with you?

He realized then that his little dragon could not be left unattended. He must be with you at all times lest something happen. It would be a difficult task for Aegon, yes, but he would do it. He would do it for you. You were his hatchling, after all. His and only his.

The eldest Prince waited a few more moments until he was sure your ladies would not return. He pulled himself up onto wobbly legs as he descended the stairs, dragging his fingers along the corridor until he felt a familiar little divot.

Aegon opened the wall into a hidden passageway connected to the many others that led out of the castle, but he didn't intend to leave tonight. Everything that he desired was right here in these very Redstone walls.

He traveled until he saw the familiar patch of stone that signified your room, making sure his drunk legs did not make a sound in case you had fallen asleep. Aegon pushed the wall slowly, careful not to have the stone scrape the ground as he peered through the crack.

Aside from lit candles on your bedside tables, there was no light in your chambers. He pushed the door partly open so that he could slink through, still as quiet as a mouse as he went to the lump on the side of the bed. He called out softly to not scare you, but as you did not move, he continued and sat on your mattress. Still, you did not stir. Your lips parted slightly as drool leaked onto your cheek. He leaned over, gently swiping away the spit, and finally, you roused, only moving from your side to your back, the covers below your chest.

Your nightgown had come unbuttoned, exposing the glistening valley between your breasts. It stopped short of fully revealing what he longed to see to Aegon, much to his disappointment. He traced his finger over your skin, sticky from the summer night's heat, and you, once again, did not move. He was mildly concerned you did not wake from his touch, but it did not stop him, his cock growing hard in his trousers.

He knew in his mind that if you had been awake, you would not let him touch you as he did, moving the fabric over to free one of your breasts. And the fact that you were not conscious right now, your body unable to reject or accept his advances, made him groan.

Aegon moved, swinging a leg over so you were in between his. Surely this would be when you would wake, kick, and scream at him until he left. But no, you laid beneath him like a log, and he grinned. Indeed this was a sign from the Gods you wanted him. In sleep, your body did not see him as a threat, which meant you truly desired him; your conscious mind did not know it yet.

His needy cock became too much, and he freed it from the confines of his pants. The head was a ruddy pink from his rushing blood, his thick shaft pulsing in time with the hammering of his heart.

He removed your other breast from your nightgown, the nipples taught and ready for him to pinch. One hand found the base of his member, the other groping and massaging the sensitive flesh. It only made him go faster, his hand pumping in shorter and quicker strokes. To his luck, you were still sound asleep, with no expression as to whether you felt him.

Aegon wanted to shove his needy cock down your throat and continue what you had started from a moment that now felt ages ago. When you asked him, drunk on the little death he had just given you, to teach you how to pleasure him. Perhaps your subconscious could learn instead.

"I like it sloppy," he said in a strained voice, spitting on his prick as he mimicked the squeeze of your womanhood with his fist, "but for you, little one, we will go slow. I'll have you dripping first, your little cunt begging to be stuffed by me. You will do better that way," Aegon grunted at the thought as he continued. "Then, I'll have you spit on me and use your tongue to spread it before I sink into your mouth. Do not worry. I shan't shove it in all at once. I'll ease it in. I'll guide your head to find the pace I like, and you'll use your hand to make up for the lost space."

He felt a jolt of pleasure, picturing the scenario in his mind, your big doe eyes staring up at him, looking for reassurance.

"Of course, you will be unsure if you are doing it right, but not to worry, I will tell you." The stroking of his cock went faster, making the pace that you would set for him. "Good girl, I would say. You're taking me so well. I know you would just clench at my praise and try to take more of me. I know what you are, even if you do not. A good little girl that would take whatever I gave her with a smile; you just don't realize it yet." Aegon could feel his high mounting quickly, grunts and moans spewing from his chest as he moved his free hand to squeeze your throat.

"You will do that for me, won't you, little one? You'll take my cock down your fucking throat and thank your Prince when you are done?"

Your eyelids fluttered open at the lack of air, sleep still clouding your vision and mind. You could only make out a face—shoulder-length hair of white, pouting pink lips wet with spit, and flushed cheeks.

"Aegon," you whispered groggily, suddenly pulled back under the sleep waves.

He came quickly and suddenly at the sound of his name from your lips. It was such a force that his seed shot to your chin.

"Yes, it is me, little one. I am here," he answered as more spurts of his manhood fell onto your bare chest. "I am here." You did not hear his words. Already back in a deep slumber as you squirmed slightly, wiping his labor off your chin.

Aegon cursed the Gods for such an insurmountable and sudden pleasure, stroking his cock slowly as he came down, almost collapsing on top of you. He wanted to watch you clean yourself, forcing you to wipe his spend off your body with your fingers, sucking it off before swiping for more, but alas, his little dragon was sleeping and knew better than to wake you. He needed now, more than ever, for you to be awake.

Aegon tucked himself back into his trousers and left the bed, searching for a rag to wipe you but could find none, only seeing your peasant clothes draped over a chair. The maids must've forgotten them, and he grabbed the dirty outfit stained with sweat and alcohol to clean his sin of your flesh. He looked out the window once he was done, throwing the clothes in a random spot for later.

At this point in the night, he realized where his highs would cease, and his thoughts would finally reign free. His chest felt empty, a horrid feeling of shame and guilt gnawing at his gut. No one would ever love him, he realized, not in the way he sought for. His mother was ashamed and disgusted at the mere thought of him. His brother filled all the criteria his Mother wanted him to, and his youngest sister, his... wife, stuck in a marriage she nor he wanted, forced to carry his heirs. His father often forgot he even existed in favor of Rhaenyra and her bastard children.

How would he ruin your life, Aegon wondered. It was inevitable. You, too, would surely follow the same pattern. You would hate him, be repulsed by his heinous actions, and become like everyone else. He heard you stir in bed behind him but did not care; you were still fast asleep. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, sniffing and willing himself not to let them shed as he crossed his arms for comfort.

"Aegon," he heard a soft voice behind him call. "What are you doing here?" He quickly wiped the tears from his face, rushing over to kneel on the opposite side of your bed.

You saw the wet streaks, his eyes bloodshot. "Are your alright?" You asked, sitting up as you grew more concerned.

"Yes, yes, little one. I am pretty alright. I was just stopping by to see how you faired after tonights events," he lied. You didn't believe him. Your mind slows as you think of what to say.

Though you were still angry at him for what he had done, you felt your heart soften at his broken face as you opened the covers on the other side of you. "Would you lay with me," you quietly spoke, doubling down as you saw his surprised expression. "Just for a little while until I fall back to sleep." Aegon did not hesitate to kick off his boots, shedding his wine-stained shirt as he climbed in. He, too, was desperate for companionship, as he always was.

You knew this was considered improper in royal customs, and you would most defiantly get into trouble if Daemon found out, but you didn't care. You could tell you, and Aegon needed some, if just for the night.

Aegon climbed into bed wordlessly. From the moment you met him, he was always the one to lead, and you were blank on how to proceed. He was afraid to say the wrong thing and have you refute your offer. You both lay there awkwardly, staring a the black ceiling in silence. You were still trying to figure out what to do.

You recalled childhood moments when you would crawl into Aunt Lyra's bed after Ma had scored you. It was almost second nature for her. She always knew how to help you and make you feel better.

You scooted closer to Aegon's stiff form, wrapping your arms around him as he turned. You did not speak. There was nothing to say as you squeezed him closer to you. Each other's presence was enough as you slowly drifted back to sleep. Eventually, his arms wrapped around yours as something akin to water slid down your skin.

Master List of Series

Aegon is a mentally ill and emotionally stunted individual who does terrible things. Instead of mommy issues, he has "everyone in his family issues." I just wanna stroke that baby prince's cock and tell him what a good boy he is as he makes a mess of himself with his cum.

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Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (10/13)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: You read that right! I have a final chapter count! We are nearing the end, and I can't thank y'all enough! I hope you enjoy these concluding chapters (they'll be updating on Mondays and Thursdays) and don't yell at me too much. (Actually, go ahead. I kinda like it 😘)

Much love to my @kmomof4 and @ultraluckycatnd for being amazing cheerleaders and betas! Love you, ladies!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine

Part Ten

“What sort of game is he playing at now, do you think?” Killian murmured as he and Emma made their way to the showers.

“Who the hell knows,” Emma groused. “I’ve given up trying to understand him or even attempt to stay ahead of his demented games.”

“Aye.” Killian sighed and gestured Emma towards the working showerhead, allowing her to go first.

“Not that I’m not relieved that our fears seem to have been… premature,” she said, stepping into the spray and wetting her long tresses.

Killian swallowed past the bolt of lust that always manifested when he saw her like this and added, “It is hard to enjoy the current peace and quiet, knowing there is likely a sword of Damocles hanging over us, though.”

Emma swiped the cascades of water from her face and gave him the look she usually employed whenever his “nerd side” came out, complete with an eye roll and stifled grin.

They spent the next few minutes in silence while Emma lathered, conditioned, shaved, and rinsed. In an effort to keep his libido in check, Killian let his mind wander over the past two plus weeks since he and Emma entertained Pan’s guests.

They’d gone to sleep that night with the worry of what Pan might have in store for them next and Killian’s dreams had been nightmarish reflections of those fears. None of which had come to fruition these past weeks. In fact, Pan had demanded very little of them at all, leaving them to their own devices much of the time whilst lavishing them with unearned gifts.

It was downright unsettling.

Killian’s eyes drifted down to his Swan’s lower abdomen and his jaw tightened from the equally unsettling knowledge that their recent activities may have already begun to bear their natural consequences, yet there was no way for him to know for certain. He knew she had not yet had a period, but he did not know whether that was unusual after the removal of an IUD. Of course, Emma was completely unaware that she was no longer protected from an unwanted pregnancy, therefore a lack of period was of no concern for her. He wondered, should they be fortunate enough to dodge the bullet of conception, what her reaction would be if and when her period did occur. Would Pan expect him to continue the charade of not knowing?

The continued deceit and knowledge that every aspect of their lovemaking wasn't completely consensual caused Killian’s stomach to tighten and churn painfully with guilt. He hated keeping it from her, but what other choice did he have?

“Your turn,” Emma said, pulling him from his tormented thoughts. His eyes snapped up and met the concern expressing itself through her furrowed brow and curious expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love,” he replied, waving off her scrutiny with a quipped bit of sass that wasn’t entirely untrue. “Just a bit vexed by our esteemed host.”

Emma hummed her understanding and agreement, rubbing her hand down his arm affectionately as they traded places.

Once back in their now very cramped room, given the number of ‘luxuries’ Pan had provided them in the wake of their exhibition, they went through their normal, post-shower routines before settling back on their bed.

“Do you think he’d let us visit the terrace again without having to complete a ‘Pan Says’?” Emma inquired softly, tucking her legs beneath her in an attempt to get comfortable. “Like he did with the shower?”

Killian pondered her question. He knew they had both been surprised at the lack of quid pro quo when they’d finally broken down and begged Pan for an opportunity to shower. After all, it had been over two weeks since they’d been given leave to go and have a proper wash-up, and there was only so much a rinsed and reused washcloth, a small sink, and a vanishing bar of soap could do at this point. Killian had braced himself for the expected, unpleasant demand of a Pan Says in response to his and Emma’s request, but when Pan had simply agreed and opened the cell door with a reminder to not stray off the blue line, they’d both found themselves unnerved. Begrudgingly grateful, but mostly unnerved.

“Might be best to not push our luck,” Killian replied.

Emma’s shoulder sagged in disappointment, but the action was followed with a relenting nod of concession that he was probably right. He hated to dishearten her, especially when he’d love nothing more than to go out and breathe fresh air whilst basking in some sunshine. However, until Pan showed his cards and revealed what this new round of the game would entail, he didn’t want them lured into a false sense of security or led into a trap of their own making.

“So,” Emma said, changing the subject. “What will it be? Reading? A movie? Board game? What do you wanna do today?”

Choosing an activity - from the myriad of options their host had provided them over the past fortnight - that might keep them occupied, they spent the rest of the day, and the subsequent days afterward, in relative peace.

Too bad that peace couldn’t last.

“Pan says, you two are going on a field trip.”

Killian balked and noted the way Pan’s unexpected announcement had caught Emma off guard as well.

“A field trip where?” Emma asked warily.

“To another part of the compound,” Pan replied. “There’s something I wish to show you, so…” The cell door screeched open and revealed two Lost Ones standing at the ready. “Pan says, follow the orange line until my Lost Ones indicate you’ve arrived at your destination.”

~/~

Emma was probably going to end up with a crick in her neck from the way she kept craning it to look over her shoulder. The distraction of attempting to ascertain whether these were their original Lost Ones - the ones who seemed to have a connection to her and Killian - had her stumbling over her feet a number of times on the way to their mysterious destination. It was no use, though. Pan had changed their outfits, including their masks. Where before an opening had remained at their mouths and eyes, this new mask covered their faces completely. Emma doubted she’d be able to tell for sure, so she returned her focus to the new areas of the compound the new line led them through.

The orange line had run parallel to the green line, the one that led to the garden terrace, but branched off at the stairwell that led to the upper level. Killian had been silent since they’d left the room and hadn’t glanced her way once since the lines had split off. She knew it was because he was taking in every detail he could and adding the new information to the map in his head. He did finally peer over at her when the Lost Ones ushered them into an elevator, his hand still wrapped firmly around her own as they squeezed in beside the Lost Ones.

“So…” Killian drawled, startling Emma with the way he broke the silence within the elevator. “Are you them? The Lost Ones responsible for us being in this nightmare?”

“Killian,” Emma hissed in admonishment.

His eyes cut down to hers and met her incredulous expression. Why would he ask such a thing now?

“It’s not as though it’s a secret,” he said, turning his attention back to their guards. “Nothing escapes Pan’s attention, so I’m certain he’s well aware of the information one of you gave Emma. So let’s stop pretending we don’t all know you two are the reason Emma and I are here in the first place.”

Neither of them responded, though Emma did notice the guilty shift in one of the Lost One’s stances. Given the raise of his brow, Killian did, too.

Before he could question them again, the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened. The first Lost One exited as the second gestured for her and Killian to follow, dropping in behind them both as they continued down the orange lined hallway. They hadn’t gone far when the Lost One stopped and punched in a code into a numbered keypad mounted to the wall. The click of a lock releasing echoed through the hallway and the door swung open, revealing an entryway one might see in a swanky city apartment.

“Come in! Come in!” Pan’s voice crowed excitedly from the speakers in the room beyond. Squeezing her hand, Killian led them through the door and entryway, until they were standing in a naturally lit, warm and inviting living room, lavishly furnished and a sight more welcoming than the cell they’d been inhabiting for the past six weeks.

“What…? Where are we? Who… Who lives here?” Emma stammered, trying to take in not only the spacious living room but the other spaces connected to it as well.

“That will depend entirely on the two of you,” Pan supplied with a familiar note in his tone that alerted them both of an impending Pan Says on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me guess,” Killian snarked in reply before Pan could issue the edict. “Pan says this will be our new home if… we agree to whatever depraved, humiliating, new heights of degradation he has planned for us now?”

Again, Emma stared slack-jawed at Killian. What on earth had gotten into him today?

“Actually,” Pan began, his words carrying a hard edge that was difficult to miss despite the light tone he was attempting to keep. “It’s nothing new. In fact, my request is for you to do a Pan Says you’ve already completed for me once. Rather successfully, as a matter of fact.”

Ripples of dread cascaded down Emma’s spine as she exhaled on a panicked breath, “You want us to do it again. You want us to… entertain them again.”

Killian stiffened at her side, his posture becoming even more menacing than it had in the elevator. “Absolutely not. Separate us if you must, but I’ll not have Emma endure that again!”

“Separate you?” Pan parroted in mocked inquiry. “Why on earth would I separate you?”

“But…” Emma began, a myriad of emotions sweeping through her all at once. “Last time you said if we didn’t, you would--”

“Well, that was before you proved to be such a smashing success with my guests,” Pan told them. “You wouldn’t believe the praise I received for delighting them with such a feast for their debauched tastes… or the amount they’ve offered to pay for a repeat performance.”

“And if we say no?” Killian questioned.

“If you say no, then my guests won’t get a repeat performance… they’ll get an entirely new experience with the two of you.”

“What does that mean?”

Pan paused, allowing the tension and dread to build before explaining, “I’ve never been very good at sharing my toys with others, which is why my monthly exhibitions have always been just that. Exhibitions. Performances. Looky, but no touchy. However…” Another pregnant pause stretched through the room and Emma met Killian’s anxious eyes with panicked ones of her own, both of them now deducing what Pan was about to reveal. “If you will not allow my guests the voyeuristic experience they’ve already paid for, then perhaps I’ll give in to the obscene amount they’ve offered to allow them a more… hands-on role this month.”

“No,” Killian grit out from between his clenched teeth.

“Oh, yes,” Pan oiled in reply. “You can either allow my guests to watch you ravage each other for one night, then have the freedom and luxury of this apartment to dwell in afterward, or I can have you tied down and give my guests what they truly desire. The opportunity to ravage each of you for themselves - in some cases several at a time - for All. Three. Nights. The choice is yours.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her waist and doubled over, a mournful cry catching in the back of her throat as Killian roared next to her, picked up a vase from one of the end tables and chucked it at the wall, shattering it into oblivion.

“Now, now,” Pan tsked over the speakers. “I’ll give you some time to mull it over. We’ve another week before my guests arrive. Pan says to have a look around and talk it over. You can let me know what you decide before my Lost Ones take you back to your quarters.”

Feedback rang through the speakers, but it was nothing in comparison to the ringing in her ears. Reaching up, Emma placed her hands against her hot, flushed face, wet from tears yet also clammy to the touch.

“Swan,” Killian said, somewhere off to her right, his words a mixture of apology and commiseration. His hand ran a soothing caress down her spine, but it did not have the calming effect he intended. Instead, Emma felt her stomach lurch.

“Swan, I’m so--”

“I’m gonna be sick!” Darting through the living room, she just managed to make it to the sink in the kitchen beyond before emptying the contents of her stomach through a series of retches.

“Emma!” Killian cried out in concern, making his way to her in time to hold her hair back for her. She wished he wouldn’t. Wished he didn’t have to see her like this. Wished… so many things, actually.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian continued to apologize. “I shouldn’t have let my anger get out of control like that. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make things worse. I--”

“It’s okay,” Emma said, clearing her throat and reaching for a paper towel to wipe her mouth with. “Could you find me a glass?” she asked him. “I need some water.”

“Of course!” He tore open cabinets until he found one with drinking glasses. Handing it over to her, she could feel his scrutiny as she filled it from the tap and took small sips.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a turn to apologize for her own lack of ability in keeping it together. “I don’t know why I responded like…” Her words trailed off as something occurred to her. Something that nearly made her heart stop as she instinctively began to reach down towards her abdomen then thought better of it at the last minute, hopefully before Killian noticed.

No. Surely it would be too soon for that if I were…

“You’ve no need to apologize, love,” Killian soothed, though his voice was tight and strained. Glancing up at him, she noted how he only held her gaze for a moment before cutting his eyes away. His Adam’s apple bobbed and the muscle at his jaw flickered. When Emma followed the path of his eyes, she saw the shards of the vase littering the floor.

“You don’t need to beat yourself up either,” she told him. “I don’t think either of us was expecting…”

Killian slammed his hand against the counter, causing her to jump. “That’s just it!” he hollered. “We never expect it! We’re always several steps behind when it comes to his schemes! I’m tired of never knowing what’s next! Of always being on the defensive, never letting our guard down! I thought… I thought we might have the upper hand for once! I thought this might have been our chance to thwart him, but now…”

“What do you mean? Thwart him how?”

Killian ran his hand through his hair and forced himself to take a calming breath. “I thought he might threaten to separate us, like he did the last time. I thought… even though I’d hate being parted from you and having someone else… I thought it would at least mean we could keep one another safe from…”

“I know,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “I was thinking the same thing.” His eyes snapped to hers and his lips parted in surprise. “As much as I don’t want for us to be separated, I couldn’t help but think how choosing to do so would mess with his plan.”

“Aye,” Killian said on a heavy breath. “Instead, he’s backed us into a corner once again. Leaving us no option but to comply.”

“At least we know what to expect this time,” she said, offering up that small consolation as she looked around the apartment. “And unlike the last one, this prison cell has windows,” gesturing towards a glass door at the back of the kitchen, she quipped, “and a balcony we can throw ourselves off of if it all gets to be too much.”

“Not funny,” Killian clipped even as a smile twitched at his lips. Releasing another heavy sigh, he took her hand. “I suppose we ought to take the full tour,” he groused, nodding towards the big screen tv in the corner of the living room with Pan’s most recent edict scrolling across, “before our jailers come to fetch us.”

~/~

Begrudgingly, Killian had to give it to Pan. The flat was magnificent. Several times he had to remind himself that a gilded cage was still a cage, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to share the space, and the sense of normalcy it might provide, with his Swan.

The kitchen was state-of-the-art and fully stocked with all their favorites. It opened to a balcony that stretched the full expanse of the flat, giving access to the bedroom, bathroom, and…an additional room.

The bedroom was outfitted with a king sized bed, lush linens, a reading nook, and a spacious closet already filled with garments more keeping to their life before their incarceration. Adjoining, there was a luxurious, spa-like bathroom with a shower large enough for both of them to bathe at the same time, as well as a two person soaking tub. The room next to the bedroom was a bit perplexing, however.

“What do you think this space is meant for?” Emma asked after they’d swung the door wide to reveal a cozy, not yet furnished bedroom.

Killian swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders, hoping Emma would not take notice of his sudden change in demeanor. He had a pretty good idea what potential use Pan may have had in mind for the small room only steps away from the main suite, but just as he had when his suspicions had run rampant in response to Emma becoming violently ill earlier, he tamped them down and put on his best poker face. Fortunately - or unfortunately - he was spared from having to bluff further.

“Well?” Pan’s voice echoed in from the living room. “What’s the verdict?”

Making their way back to where the obvious camera was, though Killian knew there had to be many more hidden throughout the space, he and Emma glanced at one another with an affirming look before Emma sighed and said, “When do we move in?”

Pan practically crowed in response to their answer. “How about now?”

Killian and Emma both balked. “Now?” Killian said, incredulously.

“Why not?” Pan replied. “Call it a token of my gratitude and a reminder of how generous I can be.”

Killian wasn’t certain how to respond and found himself murmuring an astounded thank you alongside his Swan.

“Just remember my benevolence this weekend when it comes time to entertain my guests,” Pan commented with a slight warning in his voice. “Oh! And I have a few notes to go over with you later this week in preparation.”

“Goody,” Killian grumbled under his breath, earning him an elbow in his ribs.

“Until then… enjoy your new home.”

Killian shuddered and huffed out an exhale. Turning towards Emma, he was met with a stern look and disapproving hands on her hips.

“What has gotten into you?” she demanded.

“What are you--”

“Don’t give me that,” she countered. “You’ve been off all day. Earlier in the shower, then confronting the Lost Ones in the elevator, sassing Pan, smashing vases… Killian,” her expression softened as she reached up to cup his cheek. His face nuzzled into her touch as it was prone to do. “What is going on with you? Talk to me.”

Killian opened his mouth, but the words kept getting stuck in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to lie to her, didn’t want to keep this secret from her, but the alternative…

“I’m scared,” he choked out in no more than a whisper. “Scared I can’t… protect you. Scared that there will come a time when we are truly faced with an impossible choice, or that I’ll have to betray you in some way in order to protect you. Scared that I might be forced to do something you could never forgive. Something I could never forgive myself for.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” she said in an attempt to assuage his fears.

“You don’t know--”

“Yes, I do.” Her tone left no room for argument, but she continued on just the same. “Do you know how I know?” Killian shook his head. “Because I have the same fears. Because I know all of the terrible things you have imagined us having to endure and I have already forgiven you for each and every one of them.” Pressing her forehead against his, she closed her eyes and wet her lips before flicking her gaze up to his once more. “There is nothing - NOTHING - you could ever do in response to Pan’s insanity that I would not forgive you for, just as I hope you would be willing and able to forgive me for--”

“Always,” he said, cutting her off. “There is nothing I would not forgive, love. Nothing.”

A smile ghosted over her lips and she pressed in closer to him. “Then what do you say we get the broken vase cleaned up then make ourselves something to eat, hmm?”

“I suppose I could eat,” he said, pulling back slightly so he could gaze down at her. “Any requests?”

Emma’s brows shot up her forehead and surprise colored her features. “Don’t tell me you can cook.”

“I’ll have you know I am quite deft in the kitchen, Swan.” Waggling his brows, he added, “Almost as much as I am in the bedroom.”

Emma giggled and pulled him in for a kiss, but not before she murmured a final, affirming, “Yep. Total. Forgiveness.”

Part Eleven

[yangkitties]

fall for me ✩ l.hs

pairing: lee heeseung x gn!reader || word count: 0.9k genre: fluff || warnings: blood mention (non-descriptive), swearing synopsis: and so you fell, literally and figuratively. all thanks to lee heeseung. note: we are back in business bae 💪 this ones a bit of an oldie but i like it + i've been in my hee feels off late >.< anyways i hope y'all enjoy reading it and as always, my ask box is open :]

'Hee. Do we HAVE to do this. You know what happened the last time don’t you!?' You pouted as you held hands with Heeseung, who just reassuringly chuckled at you instead of answering your question. You gently bumped into your best friend, indicating that you didn’t want your question to go unanswered. 

'And by ‘the last time’, do you mean in 4th grade when I specifically told you that I wouldn’t be able to skateboard alongside you but you STILL trusted me and tried to skateboard anyway? And then you ended up falling on your sorry butt?' He teased you, earning him a raspberry blown in his face. 

But you did trust him. You trusted him with your entire life right now, just like you did 7 years ago. You had been best friends with Lee Heeseung practically since forever. You trusted him with anything and everything. 

Except for one fact. That fact that you were irreversibly in love with him. 

As you both continued your way to the skate park, you wondered what would happen if you told him. But you didn’t have time for those thoughts when Heeseung tugged your head back to reality with a squeeze of your hand.

'Hey. I won’t let what happened the last time happen again okay? I’ve gotten so much better! You trust me, don’t you?' His bambi eyes sparkled as he puffed out his chest slightly, knowing it would make you laugh. You giggled, falling right into his tricks. 'Of course I do. Now let’s get skating!!!!'

Soon, you had mastered getting on the skateboard without falling off. Slowly, you learnt how to travel a a short distance without completely face planting on to the concrete. The catch was that you still couldn’t do it if you weren’t holding Heeseung’s hands. And holding his hands made you extra nervous. 

You’d held his hands multiple times. And they always made you felt like you were floating on a cloud. They had always fit right into your hands, no matter how old you grew. 

'Okay I think I can do it without holding your hands now.' You said as confidence crawled through you. 'You sure? Because if you fall, don’t yell at me..’ Heeseung was holding both your hands, rubbing thumbs over your knuckles. Just the little action sent a million shivers down your spine. 

You took a deep breath, 'Yeah. I know if I fall you’ll catch me.' You smiled at him convincingly and started to skate. 

You went an inch. 2 inches. 10 inches. An entire 2 feet. Heeseung jogged behind you the entire time, arms out awkwardly waiting to catch you. 'HEE!!! LOOK!!! I’m doing it!!!!' You yelled, giggling at your small victory. 

And then it happened. The board bumped into a small rock, and it sent you flying backwards. 

You closed your eyes, expecting the hard ground to hit you, to experience cold blood slip out of the back of your head. But it never came…

Instead you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. You opened your eyes, one at a time, only to be met with Heeseung’s deep brown ones, shining with worry. 

You scrambled off the skateboard and tightly hugged Heeseung’s waist, attempting to ground yourself. Heeseung gently strokes your hair, resting his hands on your hips. 

'So… I guess you fell for me huh?' Heeseung joked, trying to lighten the mood. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you said the first thing that came to your mind. 'Yeah. I did.'

Heeseung froze. His hands stopped stroking your hair and his grip on your waist tightened. 'I… what did you say?'

'I said yes. I fell for you. I fell for your stupid smile, and your angelic voice, and your bambi eyes, and your soft laugh. I fell for you 3 years ago, when we watched The Little Mermaid and you sang your heart out to ‘Under the Sea’, and I knew then, that I never wanted to leave you. And I fell for you again, a year ago when you let ME decorate your precious skateboard that you don’t let anyone touch. I really really REALLY love you but I don’t want to loose you as a best friend. So tell me right now if you don’t love me back so I can hit you over your the head with the skateboard so you can forget this ever happened.' You spoke in one breath, words muffled as you still had your forehead pressed to Heeseung’s chest. 

And then you felt vibrations across your head. He was laughing. You had just poured your heart out and he stood their, you in his arms, and he had the audacity to laugh.

Just as you were about to pull away and hit his head with the skateboard, Heeseung hugged you tighter. 'I’m not as good as you when it comes to confessions, but I love you too. You really think I would’ve let you decorate my skateboard if I didn’t love you, did you?'

He pulled you away from his chest, fingers curled beneath your chin. 'Can I kiss you?' His forehead rested against your while getting breathed out the 4 words you had dreamed about hearing countless times. 

You wasted no time, quickly pressing your lips against. Just like your hands, they fit like puzzle pieces. Your fingers entwined themselves behind his neck as he pushed you down, deepening the kiss. They trailed up to his pretty pink hair, gently pulling at it to push him back up, noses bumping against each other. 

You pulled apart, breathless.

'I fucking love you.' 

©️ yangkitties 2023 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost 

[kyleraynermybeloved]

Wedding Day

Pairing: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x NavySEAL!Reader Summary: Your wedding day arrives and as usual there’s bound to be some playful banter with those you love. Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff. Word Count: 903 A/N: It's my birthday and I wanted to post this fun little drabble as a gift to y'all! Hope you enjoy! TWAHF Masterlist

To say you were nervous would be a complete understatement. The nerves kept you up much later than you would have liked, keeping you groggy for the better half of the morning.

You were just glad you had Mickey’s mom to help you get prepared. Once you were finished you looked at her through the mirror as she hugged you from behind, smiling with tears in her eyes. “You look breathtaking. Just as kind and beautiful as the shy little girl Mickey had been excited to bring home for the first time.”

Your dress was gorgeous, beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of with the beautiful necklace she had gifted you in the morning.. It was a family heirloom that’s been passed down for generations, usually to the first married woman of the family. With Mickey being the oldest of two siblings and his younger sister not planning on getting engaged any time soon, it went to you, no matter how much you declined.

A few tears slipped as you hugged her tighter to you. “Thank you so much for everything. I don’t think I’d be where I am now without you or the family, you mean the world to me.”

The remaining hour went by in a flash. The venue was decorated with an assortment of fairy lights, giving it an ethereal glow. You both had invited a handful of people, a few family members and your closest friends, wanting to have a small wedding. Mickey was beaming with joy while trying to contain his crying as you both said your vows, you were no better. His best man and best friend Reuben had subtly handed you both tissues causing your heart to soar as you thought about your now husband having wonderful people in his life that cared deeply for him.

Your first kiss shared as husband and wife had completely swept you off your feet, your friends and family cheered loudly with a few hoots and hollers coming from the back. You were so enraptured by the kiss you didn’t realize Mickey had swept you up and carried you towards the reception area. The group had followed heading to their seats as all the food was being served.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Garcia?” Mickey beamed at you.

“Absolutely in love, Mr. Garcia.” Winking at him, you leaned over and gave him a peck. It was so easy to get lost in each other. After all, you two had practice since you were five. You had a whole life together and were ready for more, greedily taking what you could get.

“You two are so sickly cute it’s disgustingly endearing. Remind me to nausea meds when I’m around the both of you,” Reuben teased you both. He was sitting at the table next to Mickey, shoving food in his mouth with a grin.

“Oh, I second that. It was bad enough I was forced to see her read the novels he sent her but now I have to see them interact in person.” Casey, your best friend who was your maid of honor chuckled. She sipped on her drink next to you with her date on the other side hiding a laugh with her hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad. And those letters were sweet.” You grumbled under your breath causing the whole table to laugh. In all honesty, you were down bad.

She raised an eyebrow at you, “Need I remind you of the events leading to your callsign, Wraith?” She had got you there, not even your loving husband knew about that.

“Nope!” You squeaked, cheeks turning a dark crimson color. Reuben gave a questioning look to Mickey who shrugged back. He knew of your callsign, just not the story of how it came to you.

“Now you have to tell us. You can’t expect us not to bite the bait you’ve just thrown at us.”

Casey opened her mouth to speak but stopped at the look you gave her, instead she shrugged. “Sorry. Lips are sealed.”

“How wonderful,” you replied dryly, shaking your head at her. The others protested, wanting to hear the story that managed to ruffle your feathers. “I promise it’s nothing too interesting. She’s just making it out to seem like more than it really is.”

“I beg to differ,” Casey said behind her glass, smirking at you from the memory but relented in the end. It wasn’t everyday she got to tease you endlessly which had been payback for all the times you’ve done it to her. But she knew her limits and didn’t plan on crossing that line lest it fall back on her.

Reuben perked up at the exchange, “You’re not getting out of it that easily, I will expect an explanation some time in the future. As for now, go have your first dance you two lovebirds.” He and Casey had all but pushed you and Mickey out of your seats towards the makeshift dance floor. 

Giggling at their antics you grabbed Mickey’s hand in yours pulling yourself into his embrace as the music played after the announcement of your first dance. 

Finally having a moment to yourselves without any interruptions before the rest of the party joins you.

You looked up at him, completely love-struck, eyes shining with emotion. “I love you, Mr. Garcia.”

“I love you more, Mrs. Garcia.” He smiles, leaning down and pulls you into a kiss.

[spaceratprodigy]

✏ WIP Wednesday ✏

Thank you for the tag @the-lastcall @captastra 💖💫

I haven't got any new drawings to share just yet! I'm taking a lil break to let my body and my brain rest. But I have been excitedly planning out the things I want to work on next and I genuinely can't wait! Not putting pressure on myself, but I've been super excited to work on some smaller oc stuff, some au stuff, and hopefully I'll have the energy to make some fun things for Halloween this year! :3

I haaaave been messing around with some quick ideas in my notes app tho, so I can share those today at least. Hope y'all like reading! 👇

🔍 — Detective au

"Maximillian, could you hand me that?" she asked, a soft teasing in her voice.

Max reached for the seasoning his companion pointed at, their fingers brushing against each other during the hand-off. Losing himself only for a moment thinking about the way his name sounded on her lips.

"I've never cooked anything like this on my own" he said, holding his head over the pot to take in the aroma.

"It's never too late to learn" Faith practically sang. "Thank you, again. For helping, I mean."

Max's eyes softened looking at her, the smile on her face was genuine. One she had hardly shown during their time together on this case. He wanted to spend every day in this kitchen with her, seeing her glow like this.

"Salami soup is an interesting choice, I've never heard of it before tonight. I'm sure yours is quite the delicacy." He meant it sincerely, but couldn't resist trying to get another playful smile out of her with flattery.

He began cleaning up the mess they had made while prepping. Carefully moving the knives and cutting boards to the sink, wiping up any straggling ingredients that didn't quite make it to the pot, turning down the volume of her little kitchen radio. The way she couldn't resist dancing along to the tunes she liked filled Max's heart with a feeling he still didn't quite understand yet. One he was afraid to acknowledge.

Faith looked at him with a comfort she'd never felt before. She ladled up some broth, offering him a taste. Her smile only growing when he winced from the heat, but agreeing it was quite delicious. She didn't expect to become so fond of her new partner, even less did she think the man she met her first day on this case would enjoy the quality time as much as she did. She heard the whispers about him, the warnings, but that clearly wasn't the man that stood before her.

Faith looked back at her pot with a tired expression.

"Funnily enough, there were quite a few of us in the same crowd who had grandparents or parents that came from Puerto Rico. It was a dish we all knew well, we loved talking about the differences in our family recipes" she stirred slowly, the sounds of the kitchen becoming drowned out by her thoughts.

"But weirdly, we all knew it as Spanish Soup! What a coincidence our parents all had the same name for it" she let out a short, quiet laugh. The corners of her mouth perking up, but her eyes unchanged, fixed on the simmering.

"Not quite the right name for it, though, but a weirdly consistent one. I'm not sure if it was a language barrier translation or what..."

Faith began trailing off and mumbling, not necessarily talking to Max anymore so much as she was reminiscing to herself about mundane moments from her past.

"Sopa de salchichon" she breathed, her voice almost inaudible.

"Is it a favorite of yours?" Max asked, trying to bring her back to reality. A slight bit concerned by her sudden change in tone.

Faith blinked.

"One of them, yes. But not my absolute favorite by any means" Faith began thinking about when she should make Max cook potato soup with her next. "It brings me some comfort, though."

"Does it, now?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My dad used to make it all the time" her voice had no enthusiasm in it anymore. She inspected her brightly colored concoction carefully. "He never did figure out how to cook the potatoes all the way through."

She attempted to ladle up a little bit of everything, admiring how warm it looked. Salami. Potatoes. Pasta. Onions. They radiated in their bath of popping reds, oranges, and yellows. She looked as if she was going to give it a taste, herself, but dropped it gently back into the pot.

The shift in her attitude worried Max, who was unsure of the direction this topic was heading.

"Were you close with your father?" he finally asked.

Faith was silent for a moment.

And another moment.

And another.

Max had realized too late the weight of his question when he heard Faith start sniffling.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't.. I didn't mean to overstep-" his own voice coming out and wavering before he had time to think.

He took a step towards her, immediately wanting to make it better, wanting to go back just a few minutes ago when she was smiling and dancing around the kitchen. Not knowing how to fix it, how to comfort her, not knowing her boundaries and not wanting to cross them.

Faith wouldn't look at him, the hot tears broke through and were running down her cheeks. Her eyes stung. She was desperately trying to dry her face.

"N-no, you're fine.. you didn't.." she was trying to speak, but her cracking voice wouldn't cooperate "M-max.." she wanted to reassure him he didn't do anything wrong.

Finally, she looked at him. Max had never seen her like that before. It made his heart sink in his chest. Instinctively reaching his arms towards her before he realized what he was doing. His hand so close to cradling her cheek when–

"Fuck!" — "Jesus Christ!" they exclaimed in unison.

The intrusive ringing of her home phone made them jump. Stunning the partners in place, left staring at each other and wondering what was about to happen between them.

📿 — Midnight Mass au [previous tidbit]

The light of the morning sun kissed her skin with a comforting warmth. The scent of honeysuckle on the faint breeze. It was peaceful. Normally she would have considered this the perfect start to her day.

Today, however, was far from perfect.

The gentleness of it all, it mocked her. How can the sky be so clear, the gardens blooming so beautifully, the children laughing so innocently. How can it go on when a storm was about to blow through. A storm no one else was going to feel, to even know was happening.

Faith felt her heart cracking and crumbling. She didn't know how she was supposed to do this.

Trying to keep her breaths calm, she continued pacing around the road she knew like the back of her hand. The one she often walked with a confident stride. Today, it was a walk of shame. Guilt. Her choices finally catching up with her.

Faith plucked a small flower from a neighbor's garden, hoping they weren't around to notice. She began pulling off the petals one by one, trying to keep her shaky, fidgeting hands occupied. It was so delicate between her fingers, so pretty.

It frustrated her.

Not because it had done anything in particular to upset her. She just wanted somewhere to direct her own internal conflict, and the little flower in her hands was the closest casualty.

Faith's heart began beating hard when the church began peeking into view. She swallowed hard, not realizing how dry her throat had become.

How do I tell him?

It was her one place of solace. She was kind, caring, reserved, but never cold. Faith tried her best to be an active member in her community, but it was still a bit out of her comfort zone at times to put such a strain on her social battery. Even more so when her Hiram had left for war.

She enjoyed the solitude of the church. She enjoyed even more what she never expected to find in it.

The last thing Faith thought she'd ever learn about herself, was that she didn't actually marry the love of her life. That becoming more involved in her local church would lead her down a blasphemous path.

An adulterous one.

Finally standing before the building in question, Faith took a moment to admire the architecture. It was a stunning building, a real work of art.

She began her trek up the stairs. The weight growing on her feet with every step. It was agonizing.

With the town's vicar, no less.

Faith felt light headed when she reached the top. Her ears were ringing, darkness was peering in from her peripheral vision.

What greater sin could we have committed?

The doors were open, the morning air saving the church from its usual stuffiness. The sun rays beaming in through the stained glass windows, illuminating the space with colors and dust particles alike. Faith had eyes for only one thing that stood in that room.

Vicar Maximillian DeSoto, very carefully tending to the appearance within his church's walls.

Faith's cheeks were hot, no doubt turning red just at the sight of him. Her heart fluttered in a way no one, not even her Hiram, ever made her feel. She never quite believed in soul mates, until she met Max, and they realized they were meant to be together. Unable to bear being apart from each other's side for too long.

Faith felt the tears welling up in her eyes, not knowing how she's supposed to have this conversation with him. Not knowing what news she was supposed to tell him first.

That she was carrying his child.

Or that her husband just returned home.

🚀 — Canon (summary; not the actual wip)

Faith has an emotional moment (more like an existential crisis) in Phin's lab regarding having been spontaneously dropped into Halcyon to fend for herself + an identity crisis about who she was and who she now has to be. Finding unexpected comfort in him being the only person who believes and understands her complicated existence.

They have a proper heart to heart and Phineas apologizes for the mess he's thrown Faith into without warning or preparation, finally filling her in on what the hell is going on.

Phin confesses that during the unthawing process he saw some things that gave him a clue about Faith's past. Being concerned for her wellbeing, he brings up the uncomfortable information he discovered. His new friend, quite unhappy with him, was hoping to put as much distance as possible between her past on Earth and her newfound identity.

[playthelaughtrack]

A Rabbit and a Mouse Walk Onto a Movie Set...

Updates and Announcements.

Hey y'all! I've been writing off and on for this fic, and wanted to drop a bit of behind-the-scenes information.

First off, as I am both a student and a working actor, I write for this fic in between classes, rehearsals, and auditions. Thank you all for your patience thus far!

Second, this fic will be posted here and on my AO3 account, playthelaughtrack. New chapters will appear on AO3 before they are uploaded here!

And finally, I've rewritten this first chapter so many times, amd I think I've finally latched onto a start I like. That being said, if you'd like to read a non-canon, previous part of the first chapter, it will be under the cut below! I felt like it was a bit too bland of an intro for the silly tone I wanted to set, but it's an interesting read nonetheless. I hope you enjoy this little crumb while I desperately try and finish this thing lmao

______________________________

It's almost comforting, in a way to be as exhausted as you currently were. After all, less sleep meant more work was done, more hours well spent! Or, at least, that's what you liked to tell yourself. Maybe it was for your own conscience, to convince yourself that not only was horribly messing up your sleep schedule a normal thing, but also was what made you so successful.

That, or you were too tired to rationalize anything better. Probably a mixture of both.

As writers stumbled into the room, you could tell they felt the same way— eyebags, sleepy yawns, and cups of various caffeinated drinks were donned by every person present. That was the life of a working creative.

As soon as everyone is settled, you stand up from your chair at the end of the table. The room falls into a hush.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming in this morning," You begin, stepping towards the whiteboard hanging on the back wall. "I know this film's had more than a few rough spots, but we're going to pull through. You all need to be working double time— yeah, yeah, I know. Whoever groaned in the back, I felt that. But it's gotta be done! With the arrival of Bugs and Mickey—"

WIth that, you pin a piece of paper onto the board from the company CEO, ordering that the film would feature multiple cameos from big name toon stars to generate more income at the box office. The room erupts into chaos. The Bugs Bunny and the Mickey Mouse?

It wasn't uncommon, per say, to hear those two names in the same breath. The pair of faces from rival cartoon studios were constantly the main topics of cartoon critics everywhere, endlessly debating over who had the best ratings, characters, gags, merchandising… you couldn't help but wonder how the two actors personally felt about this silent competition.

A part of you felt weirdly sentimental about it. Clawing your way to the top, stepping on so many toes to get where you were, working long days and nights was just the way of life for a famous director, like yourself, to make it anywhere.

It wasn’t uncommon to antagonize other directors, writers, anyone whenever they got a little too good. But in a sense, it was almost admirable. The dedication put into every aspect of creating was enough to wear even the most determined souls down. You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought… There was business to discuss.

No use in wasting time to romanticize it.

_

You awoke the next morning to the usual sounds of falling anvils and fire alarms, taking a good look around your on-studio home— you wouldn’t consider yourself messy, but there was a good amount of takeout boxes in your trash bin accented wonderfully with stray bits of clothes scattered about. Home decor at it’s finest, really.

______________________________

Thank you for everyone who has stayed around for so long! Love you all. <33

[zarvasace]

Hi I love you disability au a lot!!! It lives rent free in my brain and I always get so happy when I see stuff about it!!! Also I just info-dumped about your au to my friend for like half an hour, which is very high praise from my autistic brain 💞

Aww that is high praise, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it. :) 💜

Anyway, take another fic, because I can't seem to stop myself recently, especially when y'all say it's cool, aha.

Time for a bad day

About 2k in length, gen, a bit of h/c but mostly just fluff. This can be read as a sequel to Relapse but also can just be read alone. AO3 link here.

When Time reaches for the door handle, he misses. His fingers brush the cool metal, but his hand doesn't get enough of a grip to turn it. He sighs, then tries again, managing it this time. There's a deep ache in the caverns of his head, filling it with dense wool like someone shoved an entire sweater into his skull. He can barely smell the coffee and bacon as he takes his time on the stairs. At least his feet are protected from the morning chill of the house by nice socks. 

Time isn't sure if this house in Tarrey Town is actually a temporary rental like Wild said, or if it belongs to him. The people of this little town are kind and welcoming, and showed them which house to go to without any debate or uncertainty, a few days ago. It amuses Time a little that Wild, the one most likely to be at home eternally camping, except for maybe Hyrule, has two entire permanent residences in his Hyrule. Maybe more, but Time isn't sure what the state of the castle or Castletown is like. 

Wherever the house came from, he's grateful they get to use it. There's a fair amount of space here, and they have privacy, which they wouldn't have in an inn anywhere else. They also haven't had to deal with a portal this last week, which isn't entirely unexpected, but still, Time's grateful. He's been a bit spooked by Legend's condition. 

Due to the lack of bedrooms and beds in the house, most of the boys slept in the living room. Time's quiet as he gets downstairs. It's a bit of a surprise to see Sky awake in the attached kitchen, sitting on the dining table bench next to Hyrule. They're working on Hyrule's signing again, while Twilight manages the bacon Time smells at the stove.

Hyrule notices him first, turning his direction and signing his name. 'Time!' 

Sky turns around at the sign, his hand patting Hyrule's knee to tell him he did it right, and smiles back at Time. His face is pale, and dark circles line his eyes, but he's upright. 

Time stands in a spot where he can speak quietly to Hyrule and Sky can see his words. "Good morning. How did you two sleep?"

"All right," Hyrule shrugs, keeping his voice just as low. 

Sky's own shrug is a bit strained. He sets a hand on his side, where Time knows a thick layer of bandages covers a rather nasty healing wound, and manages to smile anyway. Time hopes he got some sleep. 

"Here," Twilight says, putting a mug of coffee in Time's reach. He does the same for Sky, and gives a markedly smaller one to Hyrule, who clearly knows he's been jipped, but doesn't raise a fuss beyond flicking Twilight's leg. 

"Thank you." Time lets the warmth of the coffee trickle into his fingers. "Is anyone else up, yet?" 

Twilight answers, leaning up against the dining table while bacon sizzles in the pan. "Wars, he went outside for a bit. I think a couple people are awake, but it seems like most of us got hit pretty hard. How are you?"

"I just have a headache," Time answers, though it's a bit more than that. He takes a chair and drinks some of the coffee, hoping it'll help stave off some of the pain. It usually does, at least a little. 

Twilight goes back to the bacon, and Warriors comes back into the house through the back door, letting in a short burst of chilled air. He shuts the door quickly and goes about taking off his gloves and coat and boots, though of course he leaves the scarf on. He waves to those at the table, starts a kettle of water next to the bacon, and joins them. 

They all sit in silence for a little while, until Hyrule turns around to hold his hands out towards Warriors and ask for a quiz. Warriors puts down his own coffee with a tired smile and complies. He signs slow sentences into Hyrule's hands, letter by letter, while Hyrule tries to puzzle out the words. He's right more often than not, and Sky shares a victorious smile with Time. 

Once Time's coffee is gone, he does feel a bit better. He takes his cup to the sink, helps Twilight move plates of bacon to the table—no eggs, no anything except bacon—and only snags one piece for himself. 

"I'm going to check on Legend," he mutters to Twilight, who nods and waves him off. 

Time passes the table and weaves through the empty bedrolls scattered on the ground to get to the ground floor bedroom. There are two beds in here, one taken by Legend for the last few days and the other currently shared by Four and Wind, who still look asleep. The curtains are drawn, making it very dim in here, and the bowl of hot lavender water on the dresser has long since gone cold. 

When Legend had woken up at the beginning of the week and whined that it was going to be an awful few days, Time worried, but didn't think too much of it. Legend's prone to dramatics, and often complains of pain anyway. It had been humbling, and more than a little concerning, to watch Legend's sarcasm and definitive spark become buried under obvious pain. He insisted it wouldn't last very long, but Time still worries. 

At the moment, Legend doesn't look awake. Time hovers for a minute, watching the uneven breaths and unconscious twitching. He hesitates, then lays a gentle hand on Legend's head. 

Legend's eyes blink open at the touch, a bit glassy but aware. That's a definite improvement over the last time Time had seen them, three days ago. 

"Good morning," Time says softly, trying to not wake up Four and Wind. "You missed quite the party yesterday."

"I heard," Legend mutters. He winces, then shifts his position. Time draws his hand back. "This 's almost over… I feel a li'l better."

"That's good. Warriors thinks a portal might be on its way in the next few days."

Legend grunts his displeasure. "I want a break."

"Unfortunately, this kind of is our break."

"I hate my body."

Time shakes his head. "Is there anything I can get for you?" 

"...somethin' hot? I smell coffee."

"I don't think anyone is going to give you coffee, Legend." Time would roll his eye, but that would make his head hurt even more, so he sighs instead. "But I can find you something hot."

Legend grunts again. "Whatev'r. Hey, is everyone okay? After yesterday."

"Mostly." Time folds his arms. "Sky took a hit, but he'll be fine. Hyrule exhausted himself again." Legend scoffs at that. "We fought a few of Wild's guardians, so his scars are giving him trouble again. Wind forgot to put something in his shoe to straighten out his hips and walked too far. Four used crutches for the fight and got blasted against a tree. Wars shouted a lot. Twilight and I took enough potions to be all right."

"Wow." Legend looks up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. "We're a mess." 

Time sighs and nods his agreement. "We're taking today easy."

Behind him, he hears the rustle of blankets as Four and Wind wake up. He turns to see Four sit up, rub at his face, then toss blankets off of him and go to stand up. 

"Four!" Time lunges, reacting before his brain can catch up—or Four's brain, apparently. He manages to grab Four's arm and stop him from hitting the ground. He makes sure they're both okay, then sets Four down on the ground. 

"What the hell kind of joke—" Four starts, outraged, then he pauses, seeing his legs. "Oh… I won't say this isn't concerning, but it's less concerning."

Wind looks over the edge of the bed, his expression caught between laughter and concern. "Do you often forget that you can't walk?" 

"No. Never mind." Four leans his back against the bed and glances up at Time, scowling. "Thanks, I guess."

"Of course," Time answers with a slight frown. Four's eyes are very, very blue, which is, as Four said, only somewhat concerning. He offers a hand down. "Want help?" 

Four sighs, put-upon, but nods. He grabs Time's hand with both of his, and together they work until Four's in his chair again. He straightens out his clothes and starts to finger-comb his hair. Wind hands him his headband from the side table. 

"Thanks," Four tells them, almost grumbling, and his eyes are still blue. 

"Twilight made bacon and coffee out in the kitchen," Time tells him. 

"Just bacon and coffee?" Four snorts, but pushes himself out the door anyway. Time is, once again, glad that Four is small, so most doorways fit both him and his chair. 

"What about you?" Time asks Wind.

Wind groans and flops back down on the bed, blankets tangled around his legs. His wooden one sits near the bed, a bit more scratched up after yesterday. "I don't wanna go anywhere. My hips hurt." He lifts his head to scowl over at Time. "And before you say it, I know it's kind of my fault, but that doesn't stop it from aching."

"I wasn't going to say anything." 

Legend speaks up again. "Out of curiosity, did you notice if Four's eyes were a color?" 

"Blue," Time responds. "I noticed because it was a little odd."

"Mm… yeah, that makes sense."

Wind sits back up, unable to laze about for long. "How does that make sense? Do you know why his eyes change color?"

"I have theories. I'll tell you later when I can think better." Legend pulls the blankets over his head and goes still except for breathing. 

Time sighs again, then offers his hand to Wind next. "Let's at least get you out to the couch so we don't bother Legend too much."

"Fine." Wind pushes the blankets around and reaches over the side of the bed to retrieve his blue tunic. "Hey, since we're all stuck inside feeling awful today, do you think we could make cookies?" He grabs his leg, then Time's hand, and stands up. 

"You'll have to ask Wild, but I don't think it's too far out of the question." 

With Time's minimal help, Wind hops out to the couch facing the kitchen and sinks down next to Wild with a dramatic sigh. Time heads into the kitchen to pour some of Warriors's tea into another mug for Legend. 

"You too, huh?" Wild asks Wind, smiling with only half of his face. He has tins of both his ice-chu lotion and his fire-chu lotion out, and it seems that more than just him has partaken of them. 

"Me, too," Wind agrees. He dips his hand into the fire-chu tin and slathers some on the end of his left leg, on the stump below the knee. "Hey, Wild, do you want to make cookies today?" 

Wild perks up a little. "Actually, yeah. That sounds like fun, and we're stuck here anyway, so…"

Sky leans over the back of the couch to offer them both a plate. "Bacon?" 

Wind smiles up at Sky and takes the entire plate. Wild steals a few strips for himself. Warriors stops Time from taking the mug of tea to Legend, only to swap that mug out for another, one that had more of a fruity scent than a floral one. He'd apparently anticipated this already and made one of Legend's favorite kinds of tea. Time sends Warriors a smile, gets a shrug back, and heads past Wild and Wind and Hyrule brainstorming increasingly insane ideas for cookie structures (they're stuck on a castle, right now) to get back to Legend. 

If Legend takes one sip of the tea and his eyes fill with tears, due to the pain bypassing his emotional control, then Time won't tell.

[lsvdw-blog]

Drained (4/?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings; Rating: Brief mention of mast**bation, Angst; 18+ (to be safe)

Premise: The aftermath of Ethan finding out Serena is leaving.

Author’s Note: Y'all asked so you shall receive!! Happy holidays, everyone!! Sending all of you so much love, light, and joy 💖💖 Also, lol I'm so sorry for this chapter. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

Serena turns on her heels and power walks out of the office, Ethan hot on her tail. 

"Don't you walk away from me!" 

Every staff member looks up from their task at hand, heads whipping to the sound of Ethan's voice reverberating through the hallway. 

"I effectively just handed you my resignation; therefore, you are not my boss anymore and can't tell me what to do!" 

Serena is blazing down the corridor, her white coat catching the breeze she creates, her back to Ethan. 

"I'm not done talking about this!" 

Serena whips around, coming face to face with Ethan, causing him to stop on a dime. 

"What else could you possibly have left to say?"

"My apologies, I wasn't aware that you going after something meant our relationship would become collateral damage, that you would throw us away!" 

Serena throws her hands up in the air and spins in a circle, exasperated beyond belief. 

"You are one to talk! What about Miami?! The Amazon?! Your precious reset?!" 

They're practically screaming at each other now and the entire hospital has gathered on the floor to watch the golden couple of Edenbrook hash it out. 

"How convenient that it absconds you from any consequences when it's your idea, your moral compass lighting the path; but when I follow suit, I'm cold and heartless!" 

"I did those things for you! Which is more than you can say about your act rooted in pure selfishness!"

"I wish I had some popcorn right now," one of the staff members whispers. 

"I have gone over this with you, again and again, Ethan! You're not listening!" 

"I'm liste—" 

"No! You may be hearing me, but you're not listening! You say I'm throwing away our relationship, but there is no relationship, Ethan! Not since you became Chief. You left me to sink or swim as Head of the DT, both professionally and personally. It's like you expected me to grow wings mid-air and learn to fly before I fell, but what I really needed was your guidance. But when I came to you for that, you were either too busy to listen to me or dismissed me as immature and incapable. 

"A relationship should constitute supporting one another and rooting for each other's success. But you dropped me off in the Diagnostics office and never looked back.

"Nowadays, we are always Dr. Harlow and Chief Ramsey. You are constantly in your home office, you miss gatherings, cancel dates, and I can't even count how many nights I went to bed alone, waiting for you! 

"You have become so utterly consumed by this role that it's clear I pale in comparison." 

"That is not true! I love you!" 

"Where?!" Serena flails her arms. "Where?! You say these words, but I can't see them and I certainly don't feel them anymore.

The ink has dried; it's done; there's no going back, Ethan." 

With that, Serena turns and walks away, leaving Ethan standing alone. He doesn't miss the way he's being gawked at by everyone who had gathered to watch the show. 

"All of you, back to work. Now!" 

Everyone scatters and scurries away, while a furious, and deeply hurt, Ethan storms back to his office. 

~~~~~~

In the heat of the moment, consumed by white hot rage, and betrayal, both Serena and Ethan said words they didn't mean, words they regretted. 

Words as sharp as knives, intended to pierce the heart. 

Blood dripped from their egos, shards of their broken hearts scattered around them, digging themselves deeper at every mention and longing glance. 

In her remaining weeks, Serena distracted herself by ensuring a smooth transition of the team to Tobias and packing up her life, getting all of her affairs in order. 

On her last day, fifteen minutes before her shift ended, she entered Ethan's office, signed resignation letter in hand. 

It's empty and she lets out a sigh of relief. She gently lays the letter down on his mahogany desk, fingers trailing along the grain. 

All of the little moments they had shared surround her: the harmony of their laughter, the unspoken conversations through a charged look, the ecstasy they had chased. 

She knows in her heart of hearts that she's doing what is best for her, but she is sorry for how everything went down, a sad smile blooming across her face. 

What she doesn't know is Ethan is quietly watching her from around the corner, the glass walls finally good for something. He swallows over the lump that has taken permanent residence in his throat in the past few weeks. 

Too wounded to make amends, they just miss each other, walking in different directions, one on either side of a chasm widening ever further between them.

~ 1 Month Later ~ 

Ethan blazes through the corridor, hell-bent on what? No one really knows, but they can make an educated guess. 

Ever since Serena left, Ethan's usually grumpy demeanor turned into straight hellfire. His lectures now veering on tirades, the smallest things setting him off, nit-picking anything and everything concerning the hospital. 

As soon as the familiar sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum echo through the halls, everyone makes themselves scarce, diving into any nearby crack and crevice, hoping against hope that he isn't looking for them. 

His tough exterior has grown impenetrable, walls as high as a fort. 

But what they don't see is the mask slipping every single night when he returns home. How he can't go anywhere in his apartment without being reminded of her. 

How she'd curl up with Jenner on the couch, decompress with her phone on her side of his bed, wrap her arms around his neck right after spraying her perfume. 

The last time she'd made dinner in his kitchen. Where things went straight to hell.

All of these images, and more, play on repeat in his mind, the only things numbing the pain being Jenner, scotch, and slumber, when he's lucky enough to actually fall asleep.  

He sits shirtless, propped against his headboard, a crystal tumbler in hand, and looks out his bedroom floor-to-ceiling windows every night. 

But the view no longer looks the same; it's now dull and noisy and the windows themselves are a different type of hell. A constant reminder of the first time he touched her, tasted her, felt her.

Their bare skin touching, sliding across one another, their eyes conveying more than words ever could, their moans and groans intertwining together as they made love. 

More often than not, the memory turns him on, and he's reduced to reaching down his boxers to take care of himself. 

But nothing will ever come close to the real thing. To her. 

The way she always has them laughing in the afterglow, planting loving kisses across his chest, her head over his heartbeat, and their fingers interlaced.

A wave of self-loathing always follows. He doesn't need to do this - he could go out to any bar in Boston and come home with any woman he wanted. 

But he doesn't want anyone. 

He wants her. 

He needs her.

And knowing that he played such a pivotal role in driving away the person he loves most in this world, suffocates him.