#it was tiring and so stupid when it all was happening and i regret wasting my teens on that bs. but man is it funny in hindsight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holybibly · 3 months

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ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt.

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth.

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man.

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy.

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin. "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder.

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips.

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know. You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself.

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock.

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them.

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says. You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out. Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you. It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone.

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

2K notes · View notes

zayneslady · 3 months

Text

summary: it's been a while since the last time you saw him, but you missed him so terribly.

warnings: angst/comfort. Happy endings for the win *sobs* Pt. 2 of these scenarios

characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: I wanted to apologize. I got some comments saying that perhaps I wrote them a bit too ooc and that they wouldn't do something like this, so I was thinking maybe I should step out from writing these; I'm probably not understanding the characters very well. I'm really sorry! I had this one written already, so this is probably going to be the last post I make! Thank you for your support! In only a couple of days you guys were so amazing and loving, I'm super moved and I don't deserve you all at all ❤️

classification: scenarios

tag list: many of you asked me to tag you in the second part, I hope you guys like it! 💕

@biitchyberry @rosaryia @lcheerymotion @mo0nforme

ZAYNE ❄️

It's been four weeks since your argument with Zayne. The first days had been like hell. You had already tasted the honey of a relationship with the person you liked the most and loved the most. You wanted more of him, you needed more. You felt anxious without him, like you had become addicted to his kisses, his gentle touch, and the sweet words he whispered in your ears. You missed him more than you dared to admit.

The days passed slowly, each second seemed to last an eternity. When you got home you felt the emptiness of his presence and you felt like dying, but life continued on, and eventually you got used to being without him. The pain was still present, but more bearable as time kept its course.

You had stopped frequenting the places you knew he liked for fear of running into him. The dessert shop, the cafe near the hospital, the night stands near the library. You even avoided getting sick so you wouldn't have to go to the hospital. Your life was limited to going to work and coming straight home, with occasional visits to buy groceries.

You would never have thought that you would have to live a life again without Zayne and only because he didn't know how to separate his friendships from his romantic partner. So smart, but so stupid at the same time.

You sighed, returning to the present and the food you were making; it was too late when you realized it, but unconsciously you were making one of his favorite dishes. You weren't going to waste the food, so you just carried on trying not to think much about it.

“Now, where did I put–,” you stopped, surprised by the sudden knocking on your door. You frowned, you were not expecting anyone, but the knocking continued once more and you sighed, turned off the stove. “I'm coming.”

You regretted opening the door. Opening just a crack to see who it was, your heart fluttered in your chest as if there was a small caged bird inside it. Zayne was standing in front of you. He looked ridiculously tired, more than you'd ever seen him. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were deep, his skin did not look radiant and healthy as always and his eyes did not shine like emeralds.

Your hands were sweating and your insides were churning. "Are you okay?" You asked with a broken voice. Zayne shook his head and he fainted, but with a gasp, you quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to keep him upright. “Zayne! Hey, what's happening?”

Zayne didn't answer you, and just leaned on you. Not knowing what to do, you dragged him inside and carefully guided him to your room. Once there, you laid him down on your bed, he looked weak.

“Zayne? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

He mumbled your name and your heart raced. “I'm… I am sorry,” he said as he finally passed out. You gasped, but soon heard the soft snores you were so used to.

Was he that exhausted? And what was he doing at your house? You frowned, fighting back the stinging sensation in your eyes as you tried to hold back some tears. He really always appeared to stir everything inside you. You had already accepted your life without him, but here he was. You sighed heavily, taking off Zayne's shoes and covering him with a blanket.

Your eyes couldn't help but admire him. Even though he was tired, he still looked as handsome as ever. It seemed like a dream, an illusion that would disappear at any moment. You wanted it to happen. You wanted him to disappear, but at the same time, you wanted to take him in your arms and kiss his face. But no, clearing your throat, you grabbed an extra blanket and left the room, closing the door behind you. It was better to let him rest so he could leave as soon as he got up.

The next morning you woke up to soft steps. Sitting up and whining a little after sleeping on the couch, you saw Zayne coming out from your bedroom. His hair was messy and he was rubbing one of his eyes like a little child, something warm spread across your chest and a smile tried to spread your lips, but you stopped it. He seemed more rested, the bags under his eyes had diminished considerably and his skin looked a little more alive.

“Zayne.”

He seemed a bit startled as he looked at you with slightly wide eyes. “Hello… I am sorry I fell asleep.”

You hummed, folding the blanket. “Haven't you been sleeping well?" You didn't want to sound worried, but you were.

“I haven't… I constantly have nightmares and I've been working over time… a lot more."

“Why?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you,” he said and despair filled his eyes. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I have been working nonstop so I can have my mind occupied, but you're always there, in the back of my head.”

Don't cry. Don't cry!

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Zayne?” You said coldly, wanting to get over with this.

Zayne approached you and you couldn't move as he took your hands. “Please, please. Give me another chance. I swear. I swear in my life that I do not have feelings for her. I just… I was just stupid and took you for granted. Please, my love, please.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes and you cried even harder as Zayne grabbed your face. "N-No, don't touch me.”

“Please. How can I show you I truly want you? Do you want me to stop talking to her? I'll do it. I'll do it, so please. Just… please. I can't live without you.” His words sounded sincere.

His eyes were glassy and the pain on his face was evident, but your heart still hurt. How did you know that he really wouldn't leave you as a second option anymore? You couldn't even tell him to stop talking to Miss Hunter, you knew this was just Zayne's fault.

“Zayne… Zayne you're hurting me so much.”

“I know. I know I am and I am terribly sorry for this. I love you. I truly love you.”

You also loved him, so much.

“... If this ever happens again, Zayne… I won't forgive you another time. Remember that.”

His green eyes shone with happiness as he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, the tips of your fingers tingling as you felt his warmth, the tip of your nose digging into the crook of his neck, you breathed deeply, enjoying his scent.

“You're on trial, Zayne.”

Zayne chuckled and he nodded. “Yes. You won't regret me, I promise you.”

RAFAYEL 🐠

Life was boring without him. He was the spark and the spice in your days. With him, every day seemed like a small adventure, but now that you no longer saw him, the days seemed dark and lifeless. You didn't even remember how much time had passed since that day. One week? Three days? Two months? You weren't sure and, honestly, you tried not to think about it too much because, even though you missed him, the pang of pain in your heart almost made you gasp for air every single time you recalled every moment with him. It was almost as if his bodyguard had also been there, on every date with Rafayel, for all of your conversations were about her.

He was full of praise for her. He named each of her virtues and laughed affectionately at her defects. He didn't accept anyone claiming that they were better than her or stronger, because his precious bodyguard was the strongest and the bestest. Just thinking about it made you feel tears filling your eyes. You didn't want to remember any of it, but as you held your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial button, you couldn't stop thinking about how miserable Rafayel made you feel, even when he also made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

When he didn't have his mouth full of his wonderful bodyguard, Rafayel showered you with affection. His kisses, his hugs, and his caresses all felt full of love and tenderness. His beautiful eyes looked at you sweetly, as if you were the most precious thing that ever existed on earth. He liked to tease you and make you laugh and he always said that you were like a muse for all his paintings: The sparkle in your eyes, the color of your hair, the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, everything was inspiration.

How could he be so cruel and loving all at the same time? Poor bodyguard, you even didn't like her although she hadn't done anything wrong, as far as you knew.

Sighing, you finally tapped on the green button and your heart raced faster and faster at every beep coming from the other side of the line. Would he answer you? Was he… with her? Was he busy with one of his paintings? What if-

His voice calling your name surprised you, making you jump. “I’m here! Hi!” he sounded out of breath and your cheeks blushed. “Hmm, h-how are you d-doing?”

“Rafayel…,” you took a deep breath. “I… have some clothes at your place. Could I stop by later to get them?”

“YES! I… I mean… yes. I'll- I'll be here all day. You can stop by at any time you want.”

“... Right. Then, see you there, Rafayel.”

You let out a long sigh after hanging up. You had forgotten how wonderful his voice was and the way he pronounced your name. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were going to see him, you were really going to come again, but you shouldn't be excited. What if he and his bodyguard were dating? The thought made your stomach twist and you decided it was best to leave immediately. The quicker you finish this, the better.

As always, the door was open, but you didn't immediately enter, your hands were shaking and your heart was racing against your ribcage. You didn't want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pushed the door open and you were greeted with that aroma that you had missed so much. The smell of acrylic paint, the sea and Rafayel's scent. You couldn't help but take a long breath- this exquisite smell felt like home. Your eyes watered a little, but you tried to stay calm as you walked deeper into the spacious house.

“R-Rafayel? Are you here? "You heard a gasp from the room and in a second, Rafayel appeared in front of you. Ah, he looked as wonderful and beautiful as always. His gorgeous eyes were wide, looking you up and down as his mouth stretched into a shy smile. You wanted to hug him. “The door… was open so I just- I'm sorry.”

“No! That's okay! I… I left it open for you!”

You nodded. “I see… do you mind if I just…”

“No, go ahead, please.” You excuse yourself as you made your way to his room, as you passed by him you felt your legs tremble and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly took your hand.

“Rafayel, what-

“Please, forgive me,” he begged, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful expression. “I was absolutely wrong, you were so right. I was stupid and careless and hurt you so badly.”

“Rafayel… I just came for my clothing, let me g-

“Please!” He hugged you and you went stiff. “Please, please,” he sobbed in your ear.

“Are you crying?”

He nodded. “I can't live another second without you. I can't paint anymore. I feel like a piece of me has been taken away, I live half and barely. I really, really do not have feelings for my bodyguard. You're the only one I can think about.”

“Then why-

“I just… I was just stupid, I didn't mean anything to hurt you, I swear! When I said I missed her, what I wanted to say is that I wanted to train with her, I would never make you train, that's too dangerous,” he started to explain in a rush. “When I told you about the candies, it's because she gave me some amazing chocolate I wanted to gift you and then-

“Rafayel-

“Please. Just this once, I swear,” he said, finally showing his reddened face, tears streaming down his face. You gulped, reaching up to clean his tears away and he whined. “I wasn't there to wipe your tears, I am so sorry.”

That made you burst into tears. That's right, you really wanted him to wipe your tears. He gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching all of those tears falling from your pretty eyes.

“You can break up with me if I do something like that again! But please… just this once. I love you so much. I really do.”

You looked at him, His eyes were still wet and some tears were still falling down his cheeks. Maybe…

“Just this once, Rafayel… I won't forgive anything like this ever again.” He beamed and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, but you covered his mouth, frowning slightly. “I'm still mad at you.”

He blinked and gently smiled behind your hand before taking it in his. “Of course, I'll prove myself to you, beautiful creation.”

XAVIER ⭐

You couldn't sleep. It's been two weeks since you last slept properly. Two weeks ago you were in Xavier's arms and he held you lovingly, whispering words of comfort in your ears. You weren't sure why, but being around Xavier always made you feel relaxed, a little sleepy, but never bored. You loved spending lazy times with him, taking naps and frolicking in bed, giggling like fools and giving each other soft, tender kisses.

With his warmth and love it was not difficult to fall asleep at night, he always wanted to sleep so that tranquility that emanated from him was enough to relax you and make you sleep throughout the whole night. In the mornings you felt rejuvenated and full of life and seeing his sleepy smile was like living in a dream.

You felt your bottom lip quiver into a pout. You missed him too much. You never thought he would behave that way. Had you never really been important to him? If he wanted to be with his partner so much, why had he even agreed to go out with you in the first place?

��Agh! I hate you Xavier!” You cried, banging your fists against the table in your kitchen. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” Maybe you really had gone crazy, talking to the table like that.

There was no time for this. It was almost dark and you still needed to go buy some groceries for your dinner. You struggled out of your house, so tired and dragging your feet. You wanted to sleep... with Xavier. You wanted to feel his warmth. But... what if he now wrapped his partner in his arms? Your cheeks turned red and, trying to avoid thinking about it, you hurried to catch the bus.

You found a seat near the door and next to a young man, there weren't as many people as you imagined and as the bus started to go you felt your eyes heavy. Maybe... you could sleep for a few minutes? The store wasn't far away, so just a few minutes... just a couple of minutes…

You heard your name being called between clouds. From far away. Over and over and over. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

“Hmm?” You opened your eyes and gasped, How long had it been?! Where were you? And... why was your head...? Had you fallen asleep on someone's shoulder?! "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" You said, raising your head only to find that the young man next to you... "Xavier?!"

The hunter blinked, his eyes avoided yours for a second before looking directly at you and nodding a small greeting. Had he been there next to you the whole time? You could barely notice what was happening around you with how tired you were, but, strangely, you felt very good. It seemed like he really was the cure for all your ills. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. Xavier looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side like a little bird.

“I'm sorry, Xavier. I didn't know you were there,” you jumped, “but wait, where are we?!” Checking outside the window, you could tell you were far away from the store now.

“We're almost at my place,” he said gently and the alarms in your head set off. His partner... didn't she live in the apartment below?! Oh no. Before, you had no problem staying at Xavier's house, but... if they were really in a relationship…

“I gotta go,” you said, seeing the next bus station. It was already dark outside.

“Where are you going?” Xavier asked and you frowned.

“What do you mean? Back home. I only wanted to go to the store, but I fell asleep as you could see… Now it's even dark. Thankfully it's not raining,” you were babbling to yourself as you waited to arrive at the next stop, when you finally did, you got up. “Sorry about that, Xavier. Goodnight.”

"Now... The next bus…," you mumbled checking the bus's schedule. "10 minutes? Lucky~"

“I'll go with you.”

You couldn't help but squeal and jump when you heard his voice right behind you. Turning around, you saw him standing there, as tall as he was and as bright as the stars.

“I'll take you home. It's dark. Something could happen.”

You rolled your eyes. "What could happen, I'm only going home.”

“Some witnesses have seen wanderers in the area. I can't let you go alone."

You sat on the bench, arms crossed, Xavier sitting next to you. "Ah, that's true. I'm not strong like your... Forget it." Your cheeks turned red. Very well! Keep opening your big mouth! Xavier didn't say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you and the blush on your cheeks traveled to the tips of your ears.

Silence reigned between you. You could feel him, his warmth, he was so close to you, you could reach out and touch his knee. Your eyes felt heavy, you wanted to hug him.

“I am sorry,” he suddenly said and you thought you imagined it but then he repeated it. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.” You turned to look at him and flinched when he saw his bright eyes looking sad and red. “I don't know what I was thinking. Talking like that in front of my girlfriend. Acting like I didn't want to have been there with you, but you're the only person I want close to me. I don't like nor have feelings for my coworker, I only want and need you.”

He gently wiped a tear from your rosy cheek, his touch was electrifying.

“You haven't been sleeping well.” You didn't answer, but he continued. “I haven't been able to sleep either. I keep recalling that day and seeing your crying face, I can't stand it… please forgive me.”

He took your hands and you finally looked up at him, your eyes widening as you saw a small tear fall down his cheek.

“I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I still beg you, I beg you to give me another chance. I promise I'll do better. Something like this will never happen again. I was an idiot."

You frowned, “you were an idiot. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It's hard to believe you love me.”

He nodded, listening to you carefully. “I know it's hard to believe, but please let me prove it to you, let me show you how much I love you, please. I can't be without you anymore, my star. I need you, otherwise I'll go crazy. Please.”

You sobbed and Xavier gently pulled you close to him. Wrapping you between his warm arms. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let you and soon you melted in his embrace, crying into his work clothes.

“Please, give me another chance.”

You nodded softly. Just one more chance. “There's not gonna be a second time,” you warned between sobs and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“I won't need them. I will treasure you as the most valuable thing that you are. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayneslady #*scenarios

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 8 months

Text

Which Witch

Part 2 of 2 / Faerie masterlist

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish/witch!reader 13.3k words - AO3 - Part 1 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Explicit sex. Fae!AU. Blood magic. Faerie magic. Angst. Tenderness. Comfort. Pining. Sex magic. Praise kink, light breeding kink. Magical dubious consent. Possessive Johnny, Protective Johnny. "I'm not beat up by this yet, you can't tell me to regret, Been in the dark since the day we met, Fire, help me to forget." - F + TM

Johnny has never experienced a headache before.

The feeling is surprisingly uncomfortable, and has been blooming behind his eyes since the other day, when you advanced on him outside the pub in the mortal realm, when you caught him off guard with your fury, your heartbreak.

He tries not to think about that part, too much.

Tries not to think about the torment he saw in your eyes.

Tries not to think about his plans, laid to waste, to ruin. A dream, crumbled into a nightmare.

He tries not to think about the ache that’s settled beneath his ribs since the second you snatched your hand from his grasp and stomped away, the pressure of your magic making the stitching of the mortal realm feel too thin, too fragile.

He tries not to think about the extra weight of something that’s been added to him, nestled there in his side, the heavy feel of a magic that feels not unfamiliar, but alien at the same time.

“Bloody hell.” Gaz whispered. “No wonder ‘uve been keepin’ her a secret.” He whistled, low and sharp, as they watched you cross the street and slowly disappear from view, red and purple magic angrily arcing off from your body and tainting the air with a tart, burnt aftertaste.

You were the only being on the street, besides them. All the mortals had gone off, pushed by you, sent scurrying by your power. “That’s one powerful little wi-“

“That’s enough.” Johnny snarled in his face, the ferocity, intensity of his tone, the words spat at his own brother surprising them both, signaling Kyle to step back, out of precaution, with a gentle hand raised. Johnny panted harshly, while his magic thrashed inside of him, desperate to get out, wild and nearly out of control, fully brimming with the chaos that he knows so well.

It yearned for something, desperately.

“Easy, Soap.” Price had been on them then, appearing from where he had been inside the bar, inserting himself between their two bodies, like he needed to protect Kyle, a ridiculous sentiment by any of their standards.

“Sorry.” Johnny drew the word long, shaking his head from the pressure beating inside his skull. “’m sorry, Gaz. I dinnae- I-”

“It’s alright mate.” He assured, reaching out, clasping a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. It was warm, and comforting, and he nodded in response.

“I think you should probably get home. You’ve been here… too long.” Price follows up, and Johnny couldn’t argue. He felt drained, suddenly. Tired. A feeling that happens for them, from time to time. Especially when they’ve been in the mortal realm for an extended period.

“Alright.”

He thinks this discomfort, this ailment, whatever it may be, will pass, once he’s been home for more than a few days. He imagines it’s just a side effect of being in the mortal realm too long, and he can practically hear Price telling him he needs to stay put, stay in Faerie for a while, or at least until his magic settles and his body adjusts to its rightful plane.

After all… his kind doesn’t take sick. They can suffer magical ailments, wounds from weapons or other Fae, but to fall ill is incredibly rare.

And usually only happens to those of them who are incredibly stupid.

Still, the headache rots and spreads throughout his brain, festering in his magic until it becomes an unruly, ungovernable thing that barely recognizes him, and his muscles become excruciatingly sore, useless in his body when he tries to exert himself in any way.

The Isle itself seems restless, the sea raging tumultuously beneath the bluffs, the forests shielding themselves from the light of the sun. Johnny can feel her magic, biting and gnawing against him, yearning and screaming, the wind whistling through the oldest trees with a shriek that hurts his ears.

All the while, something else aches within him. An unbearable longing that builds and builds like a dark grey cloud growing heavy with rain.

“It’s your soul.” The Nereid, Ce, tells him softly. “You’re soul sick.”

“What?”

“Someone has bound themselves to you. Your soul, your magic, is woven together. When you’re separated, your soul will mourn for theirs.” The image of you pointing at him flashes through his mind, your gaze enraged, haunted, while you cursed him up and down.

Surely, you did not mean for this?

Simon watches him knowingly, before pulling her into his arms, rubbing his hand over the swell of her belly where their child sleeps, blissfully unaware.

“Do you know, who it could be?” She questions, and he grimaces, eyes flicking to Simon who betrays nothing, only gives him a subtle nod.

“A… witch. From the mortal realm.” She stiffens in Simon’s lap, and then shakes her head in disbelief.

“A mortal witch could not cast a binding such as this, nor survive it.”

“Well, ah… dinnae believe she’s entirely mortal.” She turns, looking between them, before glaring openly at her husband.

“The only immortal witches who still live in the mortal realm are the elemental witches…” she trails off, looking out the window to where the sea crashes on the shore, something distant flickering in her gaze, realization settling heavily upon her. “What have you done?”

“You were my priority.” Simon utters, face shuttering, eyes going grim. Johnny shifts nervously in the chair. Ce is sharp, intelligent, and it doesn’t take too long before she’s whispering her confirmation of the truth.

“The song. She’s a blood witch.” He nods, unable to break the eye contact. Simon holds her hip firmly, but she doesn’t look away from Johnny, and before he even realizes, he’s spilling more secrets.

“Blood spinner.” Her eyes widen, and then rips Simon’s hand free from her body, standing unsteadily on her two legs. Her balance has gotten better in her time here, but she still struggles with managing her new walking appendages, something that always keeps Simon hovering near by, just in case he needs to catch her.

“You must find her.” She implores Johnny, while turning on her heel to poke a finger into Simon’s chest. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done.”

“Little huntress-“ He begins, but is swiftly cut off.

“No. Do not use your sweet words to try to placate me.” She turns her nose up from him, while facing Johnny. “You must, she’s in danger. Blood witches aren’t meant to be bound to others. The effects could be catastrophic, the binding could kill her.” His heart speeds to a halt. The binding could kill you.

The feeling Johnny had a few days ago outside the pub compounds inside of him, the yearning infused with his chaos, the wild piece of his magic surging in his blood, eager to be set loose. He closes his eyes and reaches inside himself to settle his power, to soothe the uncontrolled pieces that are climbing closer to the top.

When he looks back to them, he realizes Simon is standing more than a few paces away, Ce shielded behind his body.

“It’s the binding! It can drive you mad, control your magic if you're separated too long.” She calls from around his shoulder, trying to peek out even though there is a formidable mass blocking her.

“Perhaps she planned this, Johnny.” Simon proposes, a sentiment that Johnny balks at. Were you capable of such a thing? His wife shakes her head reverently, and mouths a no.

Danger.

Catastrophic.

When he thinks about the way you looked when you thrust your finger into his face, fiery and full of rage, he realizes it’s much, much more than what he thinks he knows, or what he believes.

You tricked me, you Fae bastard.

Had you tricked him in return?

The lock on your flat’s front door is not complex. It’s not even spelled for intruders, or unwanted guests, something that’s always sat uneasily within Johnny, even when he was taking full advantage of it. His magic knows this lock well, is intimately familiar with it, and plies the deadbolt free with ease, door swinging wide like it’s been expecting him, just like every other time before.

You tossed in your sleep, brow furrowed, distress written across your face as you shook your head back and forth, trapped in your own dreams, your memories, your nightmares.

Your body, still battered and bruised, slowly healing from whatever had happened to you on Samhain, trembled beneath the sheets, and you made small, terrified mouth sounds against your pillow.

“You’re safe now, dove, you’re safe.” He stroked a thumb across your temple, down the apple of your cheek, whispering to you softly, sweetly. His own magic worked quickly, dragging you under, lulling you into a deep sleep, a near coma. He had hoped it would be enough, to keep you from waking while he worked, while he healed you from whatever ordeal you had been put through, whatever torture you had been subjected to.

He built you the sweetest dreams he could conjure, images of his own realm, lush forests and sparkling aquamarine seas, the moss-covered stone bluffs of the Isle, the three moons when they’re full, the sparkle of the night sky, webs of worlds and starlight stretching out as far as any being could see.

He had tried, so desperately, to burn the image of you from the previous night out of his mind, when you first answered his knocking with your broken soul and tearful eyes, abused body halfway hidden by the door.

What happened to you? Who could mistreat you in such a way?

He hadn’t known then, but he wanted to, urgently. Wanted you to tell him everything, wanted you to make him your tool, your harbinger of revenge. He wanted to kill for you, destroy for you, burn this entire realm for you. He wanted to lay all his promises at your feet, wanted to tell you that no one would ever touch you again, that no one would ever harm you if he was here.

He cursed himself. Cursed the truth. Cursed the spell that you put him under, the one that didn’t even exist.

He had gotten so lost in thought, lost in staring down at your now relaxed face, that he almost didn’t realize the sun was rising, the soft rays of light seeping across your room from under the curtain startling him into withdrawing his magic so he could allow you to wake and return with a coffee, maybe a pastry, some sort of breakfast sweet that mortals seemed to be overly fond of.

He leaned over you for a quick moment, unable to help himself, breathing in the scent of your hair, your skin, your very soul. It intoxicated him, the sweet citrus and balsam mixing with the minerality of blood, of earth, creating something that seeped through his own being, pulling him closer and closer until he grazed his lips across your temple so gently, he’s not sure he’s even made contact.

“I’ll be back soon.” He whispered above your ear, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him. “Have a good morning, sweet Fern.”

“Fern.” He calls, before stepping across the threshold, but there’s no answer. There’s no sound or sign of movement, no echo of your voice down the hall. “Fern!” He tries again. His blood feels hot under his skin, and he’s nearly feverish, off balance and unsteady, while the spot beneath his ribs throbs in pain.

He expects to see Jet, or hear her hiss, considering how much the little creature loathes him, but when there’s no sign of her either, something prickles along the back of his neck.

“Do not hide from me, little witch. I know what’s happened.” He calls, raising his voice, projecting it with a touch of magic so it rings down the hall, through every room, into your personal library, and beyond.

When there’s still no answer, his sense of discomfort grows, and like there is a hook in him, in his very soul, he can feel his magic being tugged along, down the hall to your bedroom.

When pushes the door open, his heart slams to a halt. Fear is the foreign sensation that pours through him, paralyzes him. It’s fear that anesthetizes him as he stares at you, crumpled on the floor, surrounded by books, ancient grimoires and other texts, your magic drained from your body like someone has bled you dry, eyes wide in agony and a rasping breath on your lips. The room smells like mineral, like clay rich soil, like earth, and he chokes on it when he realizes the stain that darkens the carpet beneath you is your blood.

“Oh, little witch.” He murmurs, kneeling by your side, wide palm slipping behind your neck gently. “What have ye done?” He tucks you into his chest, and you mumble something as he carries you to your bed, trying to lay you flat, propping your face up so he can look into your eyes.

“N-no.” you push against him weakly.

“Shhh, Fern. It’s okay.”

“Don’t.” you hiss, and blood leaks from your lips. His magic thrashes, barely contained, bubbling up and trying to break free.

“Tell me what to do.” He pleads, desperation rising in him like the swell of high tide, threatening to tip him over into fathomless depths, places where he cannot swim, or survive.

“Lea… leave.” You moan, and he shakes his head. “Leave. I don’t… I don’t need your ‘elp.”

“No.” He refuses, cradling your face between his hands, and you blink at him slowly, eyelids heavy, expression disorientated. Long seconds pass and you look… confused suddenly, like you don’t recognize him, like all the vitriol and venom that you were spitting a moment ago has suddenly disappeared, and he feels a surge of your magic, the snapping of something, the binding, twisting, and tugging at the two of you.

“Johnny?” You mumble, and a smile breaks across his face, a small one, an encouraging one, something he hopes brings you comfort.

“Aye. It’s me, dove. It’s me. ’m here.” You tremble in his grasp, and more blood drips from your mouth. The sight of it is enough to loosen the hold on his power, and the room floods with bright light, illuminating every corner in the flat, and every detail on your face.

You need help. You need help, now. Badly.

He’s never wanted to have your name as frantically as he does in this moment. He wants to force you to tell him what to do, how to fix whatever this is, he wants to reach inside your magic and your mind and root around in your soul until he can pull the answer free from your lips.

A terrible thought forms in his mind. It’s wrong, and one he is sure you will hate him for, one he knows you will punish him for.

If you live.

Danger. Catastrophic.

Blood witches aren’t meant to be bound to others.

The binding could kill her.

Ce’s warning plays over and over in his mind, and when you cough again, blood splattering on his forearm, his magic makes his mind up for him, spreading forward to try to soothe you, cocooning you in a soft, twilight embrace that tries to lull you to sleep.

He pulls you back into his arms, tucking you against his body and concentrating his power on the thrum of your heartbeat, the power in your veins. He needs to blink the two of you to the closest door, and the only one that’s remotely doable is in Sherwood Forest, nestled among a ring of birch trees that all lean suspiciously inward.

“Fern.” He tries to get your eyes to focus on him, jostling you slightly as he strides away from your room. “Fern, I need… I have to take ye away.” Your brow furrows, and somewhere in the very back of his mind, he remembers how cute you are when you look at him like this, when you’re well, and not suffering.

He comes to halt in the kitchen, where Jet sits on her haunches atop the table, watching him with her head cocked.

“She’s dying.” He explains to her, and Jet scowls before she answers him, disdain dripping from her words.

“Because of you.”

“What happened?”

“The binding was an accident. She lost control.”

“She needs help. Is there anyone?”

“Not here… she’s been shunned. Thanks to you.” She glares at him, and he shoves down his urge to scream. Jet slinks towards him, eyes wise and wandering, sizing him before she sits down next to where he’s got you hovering above the table in his grip. “You’ll have to take her.”

“I cannae. I need her name.” She flicks her gaze to you before hopping from the table, walking to where the door creaks open on its own.

“You need to get it on your own.”

“She’s dying, Jet.”

“I know you won’t let that happen. After all, this was your plan, was it not?” She says before slipping outside, into the night.

You shiver against him, and he tightens his arms around you instinctively, lowering his nose into your hair, trying to find the sweet balsam and citrus scent under the sour smell of scorched earth and black blood. It’s there, but barely. There’s hope.

“Little witch.” He taps your cheek, trying to get you to concentrate on him, to look at him. “Fern, will you give me your name?” He coos sweetly, sugaring his voice with honey, dropping his glamour to pull your focus. It’s wrong, he knows this, so wrong, a true violation, but what choice does he have?

He won’t leave you to die.

You lick your lips, and he smiles, fully aware that he’s probably partially blinding you, scrambling the signals in your magic and mind, his own power pulling desperately at the binding to get you to comply.

Come on, sweet Fern.

Give me your name, dove.

He grips your hand, twisting your wrist until your palm is facing him, and for the first time without his glamour, he lets himself kiss you there, right on the heel below your thumb, dabbing his magic into the veins that vibrate just beneath your skin. He pushes, and then for good measure, pushes again, until your lips are cracking on an intake of breath, and your free hand is reaching for his, bloodied fingers smearing your ichor across his skin as you slowly speak, mouth forming the one thing he’s needed all along, the thing he’s wanted more than anything since the day he’s met you.

Your name. Given to him. By you.

It sinks into him, heating his own blood with the power of your admission, pulsing through his magic until it’s settling in that spot behind his ribs, the same spot that’s been aching since the last time he saw you, the place where the binding is nestled.

“Okay.” He coos, and then repeats your name, while you nod. “Okay, hold on to me.” He whispers, and then pulls everything in the flat tight, all the magic that’s spilled from your body, all the magic that he’s let run wild since he got here. He moves himself, and you, into the blink, and then the ground shifts, room tilting and splitting until the walls are fading into trees, the tile of your kitchen becoming grass under his feet, and your ceiling is a night sky. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his chest, and he knows it’s because the blink is uncomfortable, disorientating for those who are not Fae. Lesser creatures usually don’t even survive it.

But you are no lesser creature.

This fact, this truth, is the thing he takes comfort in as he barrels towards the door, his magic breaking through the threshold and crashing through the planes until he’s stumbling into Faerie with a blood covered witch curled against his chest.

“Are ye hungry?” Eilean asks from the threshold of the room, not willing to cross inside, but eager to see if she can help at all.

“No.”

“Should I bring some wine?” She tries, voice dipped in hopeful inflection. He rubs a palm over his face in part exasperation, part exhaustion.

“Please. Wine would be lovely, thank ye Eilean.” He placates her, and he doesn’t need to turn to know she’s smiling with approval.

He wouldn’t turn, regardless. He doesn’t dare look away from where you lay against the pillows in a bed that seems far too big. Where you lay, alone. Sleeping. Unconscious now, for far too many days. You’re weak, so weak, from travelling here, from trying to exist in this realm, a realm that you were not made for, a realm that no one seems to know if you can even persist in.

The Isle cradles you, fosters your survival. She holds you firm, holds you as he would, a casket of stone and sea weaving around your body, protecting you from anything. Everything.

Sometimes he fears she may be protecting you from him.

The waves crash against the rocks far below where he sits and you lay, sea ravaging against the rock, water pounding against stone over and over, the repetition enough to carve out caves and patterns in the walls, to change the physical manifestation of the Isle, to alter the very ground he lives on, walks on. The ground that he had hoped, one day, you may walk on with him. Beside him. The place he had hoped you might embrace with all her horror and secrets, that you might accept as a place of your own.

His hope fades with every breath you draw. It flickers like a flame being doused out.

Every now and then, you fidget beneath the blankets, body shivering and shaking, subdued whimpers escaping your lips as you twitch. He fears the binding may not need to drive him mad, because watching you suffer, watching you sleep endlessly, may do it regardless, in the end.

However, the bleeding has stopped, a small thing that Johnny is immensely grateful for, even though no one knows why.

“She needs time.” The healer tried to tell him, their effervescent magic embracing you in a halo while they worked to stop the blood that had started leaking from your eyes and nose, as well as your mouth. “Her magic is overloaded by the binding. The best thing you can do for her is stay close by. She will wake on her own time.”

“Her temperature-“

“We do not know. There are some things at work here, even we do not understand.” They explained, sympathy pooling across their face.

They wished him well after that, instructing him to call for them should they be needed further.

He didn’t know how to ask them to stay. He didn’t know how to tell them that for the first time in his eternally too long life, he was truly scared.

“How is she?” This voice, this one that calls to him from the threshold, speaking to him in his mind, startles him in the armchair, even though he knows it belongs to his brother. He turns to see Gaz, who watches him through lowered lashes. He’s keeping his distance, as every other being has, unsure about how Johnny will react with another coming so close to his… witch. “Price says ya’ve been holed up in here for days. Thought I’d come check, see if anything was needed.”

“Come in.” Johnny implores, out loud, and Gaz does, hesitantly, watching his brother for any changes, any indication he may lose control. Once he gets about two meters away, Johnny holds his hand up, a signal to stop, and Gaz conjures a chair, brimming at the seams with sun kissed light, a neat trick that benefits him when he plops down in it, like he too, is exhausted and weary.

“Well?”

“She’s… ‘m not sure. She still hasn’t woken, and her temperature, her body is hot to the touch. Too hot. But she’s stopped bleeding, which I take as a good thing.” He hasn’t left your side, constantly feeding the binding his own magic in hopes it would help give you some strength or help heal you.

“She’ll be alright.” Kyle encourages lowly, smiling at him. “She has you to look out for her, after all.” Johnny nods, even if he doesn’t believe it.

“Thank ye, for comin’.” He whispers, clearing his throat.

“We’re family, Johnny. Even when you run away to this damn Isle with a blood witch that you’ve stolen from the mortal realm.” He laughs with a wink, and Johnny’s lips curl into a very subtle grin.

“Not much better than Simon, am I?”

“Well, you didn’t drag us all around the mortal realm for nearly a decade so, that’s something.” He sighs, leaning back, slinging his feet over the arm of the chair. “Besides. I’m not exactly exempt either now.” Johnny nods, and he watches the flicker of discontent that washes over his brother, the way his magic pulses through him and the chair before returning to stasis.

Now, it’s his turn to ask.

“How is she?” Gaz shakes his head.

“Violent.” The word gives Johnny pause, and he feels his sympathy grow. His brother is the gentlest of them, the most kind. The one who others seek out, for comfort, for care. The one who wields the sun’s light itself. “Won’t let me near ‘er. Won’t eat. Won’t open the door, only yells at me through it. Hardly even speaks to her sister.” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with graceful fingers. “She wants me to let her die.”

“And will ye?” He doesn’t respond right away, and they both just watch where you lay in the bed, silent.

“Don’t think I can. I feel… something for her. It’s different, from anything I’ve felt before. It’s-“

“Frightening.” Johnny finishes for him, and some tension leaks from his body. It is unlike them both, to feel fear. To feel fear and acknowledge it.

You twitch, eyes moving behind closed lids, and Gaz gives him a nod as he rises.

“See you soon?”

“Aye.”

It’s late, two days later, when you start to wake. Your temperature has gone down, and you’ve finally slept peacefully through an entire night. The moons have already risen, and Johnny has the drapes tucked open, so the room is illuminated in a silvery purple glow that shimmers across the floor and onto the bed. Your lashes flutter, and he feels the influx of magic in the room, ebbing and flowing, growing stronger and stronger, spilling from you as you swim closer and closer to consciousness, your eyes slowly opening, brow furrowed, discontent pulling your lips downwards in a frown. The wild yearning cries out inside of him, chaos beating in his heart, and he struggles to contain it.

“What’s…” your voice trails off as you look around, and Johnny waits for the moment when you find him in the chair by your bedside.

It happens fast. Your expression goes from confused, maybe a little contrite, but still curious, to rage filled, and startled. Fear reflects in your gaze, and his stomach drops.

“Fern.” He tries to calm you, and you hold your hand in front of your body like you’re trying to ward him off.

“Stay away from me.” You hiss. You try to sit up, try to move away from him, but your body is too weak, physically, and you sink down to your elbows in a second while you press yourself against the headboard. “What did you do to me? Where am I?” He stands, casting a little bit of magic out, trying to relax you, but you beat him back with your own before you’re yelling as loud as you can. “Help! Help! HELP ME!” you scream, voice drenched in horror, and a piece of his heart chips away in an instant.

You’re terrified of him.

There’s a noise, behind him, like a soft chiming of bells, and then he feels the shadow of Eilean’s magic, her presence unmistakable. He holds a hand out to stop her in the doorway, and you gasp aloud, palm covering your mouth, eyes round with shock when you see her.

“Oh. My gods.” You look from her, back to him, and then around the room, tracking out the window to where the three moons glow, bathing the sea below in silky shades of lilac, before you try even harder to shuffle yourself away from the edge of the bed, your hands fully shaking. “You stole me.” You whisper it between your fingers. “You took me. We’re… we’re in Faerie.” Tears are coursing down your cheeks, breaths coming in frantic little puffs that grate at his soul, the spot beneath his ribs aching as you cry.

“I thought… ah thought I was goin’ lose ye.” He croaks. “I dinnae- I had no other choice.” You’re breathing too fast, too short, and he wants to tear at the unfathomable distance between you and him that seems to be widening by the moment.

“Get away from me.” You half yell, half cry at him, tone dripping in disdain, in fear. “Get away!” you scream, and the demand physically pains him, like you’re ripping him apart, like you’re taking a knife and jamming it up underneath his ribs, hollowing him out, destroying him from the inside.

He stumbles from the room, clutching his side like he’s been wounded, and your magic lashes forward to slam the door shut behind his back with a finality that hits like a killing blow.

“Well, she’s scared. And rightfully so.” Ce says with a hand on her hip, leveling Johnny with a look that he can feel burning through his skin. “I managed to get her to listen to me long enough so I could… explain everything.” He straightens.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth.” She sighs, and shifts her weight, reaching for where Simon stands. He takes her outstretched hand and brings her into his body, wrapping her up with a supportive arm around her waist. Johnny eyes the doors of the bedroom, clearly overeager, and she shakes her head immediately. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“But-“

“She’s traumatized. She was used by you, betrayed by you. And then you kidnapped her from the only home she’s ever known.” At that, she gives Simon a healthy glare, and he has the good sense to look at least, somewhat ashamed. “It gets worse, I’m afraid.” Simon watches closely, and Ce looks at Johnny with a face full of sadness. “The binding… she may not be able to undo it.”

“What?”

“It is powerful magic. Magic that she did not intend to cast. It came… from the heart.” Johnny lets his eyes slip shut at her words, jaw clenching tight. “You need to prepare for what is to come, if she cannot reverse it.” She ghosts a hand over her belly and implores him with a meaningful look, one that cannot be understated or misunderstood.

The magic that feels like you, the fibers that he believes are the binding, seem to flex within his power, like it’s being pulled, and he involuntarily takes a step towards the door.

“Soap.” Simon beseeches, and Johnny stops short. “You must give her some space for now.”

They’re right. He knows, they’re right. He’s violated you, forced your name from you, stole you from your home, betrayed you in every way.

But the binding, the burning ache in his side, cries out to him. Begs him to go to you. Begs him to take you into his arms, complete the binding right then and there, and steal you away forever.

He grits his teeth.

“Alright.”

Days pass, and Johnny fights himself every step of the way. He fights his magic, which has grown unruly and uncomfortable again, fights the gaping hole that seems to be forming in that spot behind his ribs, fights what he is sure now is the binding, the incessant pull that tries to drag him into your orbit. He fights how he feels, the deep-laid emotions that he’s spent months trying to bury, and the feelings of discontent, of missing something. Someone.

The estate is heavy with your ghost. Eilean keeps him informed of your comings and goings, your visits with Simon’s wife, your days spent locked in his library. She says you’re physically better, but tire easily. You only sleep for short moments at a time, like him. Johnny tries to tell himself he does not care that you refuse to see him. He tells himself that it does not bother him, that you were so willing to shut him out completely, so eager to escape him. He tells himself that the sound of your fear, of your cries for help are not burning into his memory, that they are not entrenching themselves into his soul, driving him mad. He tells himself it’s just the binding. That the binding is driving him to the brink, that the binding is to blame for his near descent into madness.

But he knows, it’s not responsible for everything, It’s not responsible for the yearning in his soul, his heart, his magic. For the wild edged chaos that brews out of control in his veins.

It's love. His heart bleats in the quiet hours of the night, when he holds his breath and feels for you through the estate, when he catches the barely-there scent of citrus and blood in a hallway where you must have recently lingered. It’s love. His mind screams when he closes his eyes to rest for a few precious moments, and all he can see is your face, smiling at him, giggling in the golden light of your kitchen at dusk. It’s love. His magic shrieks at him to go to you, to hold you, to tell you everything. To tell you about the way his power rioted in his blood the moment he saw you, the way his magic exploded in his chest the first time you shared your heart, your mind, your life with him, the way he knew after that very first day, that no other being would ever possess him, except you.

Eilean walks with you in the garden. He tries not to watch too closely, warily waiting for something to happen, for a decision to be made that he will not be able to fight, no matter how hard he tries. She delights you, when she shows you how to sow your magic into the fabric of Faerie, how to connect with Isle as you connect with the earth of your home realm.

Johnny does not allow himself the hope that lights in his soul, when she looks up at where he stands in the window, and nods. An approval. A yes. A piece of herself, given to you.

As time crawls by, he cannot stop himself from thinking about you, every waking moment. He cannot stop himself from wondering how you’re faring, if you need him, if you’re feeling well. His magic never lets him sleep, never lets him come, keeps him on the edge eternally, pacing, tossing, and turning while his mind is invaded by thoughts of you.

It is one of these nights, when he’s drowning in too many feelings, along with two bottles of wine, pacing fruitlessly, that Gaz blinks into the kitchen with an irritated huff.

“Look sharp. Been callin’ ya for hours.” Gaz spits, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Bloody hell, Soap. Get yourself together. Simon sent for us.”

The meeting is a long one.

Simon outlines recent inquiries, payloads for work, demands of their presence in places across the realm, old contracts that have long laid dormant being renewed with a fresh round bloodshed.

It is the same song and dance. The same battle cry of blood and victory.

Fae and mortals are not as different in their hearts as they seem, he muses, reading over a potential contract, a high paying job for the removal of a seated power. It comes with a catch, a royal child who requires protection, and he places it on the top of the list for consideration. Children cost extra.

He is not surprised, when both Simon and Gaz seem hesitant to agree to anything, especially work that will take them away from extended periods of time.

Johnny says nothing but shares their feelings. The idea of leaving the Isle for any amount of time makes his magic churn in his veins. Even now, anxiety builds like a storm inside him, and he agonizes about returning.

“It’s not optimal.” Simon declares, while Price smirks from where he sits with his arms crossed.

“Ye going soft, Riley?” Johnny ribs him, and Simon scowls.

“I’ll show you soft, Soap.” He shoots back, while Gaz chuckles.

“I’m not opposed to taking it easy, for a bit.” Price offers something, an inquiry that caught his eye, a short engagement, not very far away, while Simon counters it with a different one that’s even less time. They bicker, back and forth, back and forth, and Gaz slowly becomes more interested in a half open book laying on Simon’s desk than he does the conversation.

Johnny loses interest completely. The spot beneath his ribs is pounding like his heart, and his magic is swelling violently in time with the binding. When he says his goodbyes, no one is surprised.

“I want to know.”

“Witch business is no business of the Fae.”

“Fern is my business.” She laughed at his demand, the echo of it scraping across the front his mind like he had been scratched by her claws.

“So possessive.” She murmured. “Over a witch who does not even know the truth of who you are.”

“Jet.” He warned, and she growled a sigh.

“Divination is not practiced here as it practiced in your realm. It requires a sacrifice, and the visions are not easy, even for a powerful witch like Fern. It extracts a higher toll.” His blood curdled in his veins, and her tail whipped back and forth, green eyes watchful from where she sat in the kitchen. “Her participation is not voluntary.”

“They force her?”

“They’ve forced her since she was a child. The coven only cares for their power, their vanity, their immortality, and without the blood spinner, without the Divination, they would have none of it.” He pictured you, a small girl, alone, defenseless, victim to practices of your coven, your magic and mind a tool for them to use, to take advantage of, to torture. She licked her paw before rising to all fours, casting an underhanded glance at him. “The way they see it, Fern belongs to them. The blood spinner is not a being with a soul, but a thing to be used as the coven sees fit.” Outside, the wind howled, spurred on by the tethers of magic that spun from Johnny, the chaos that reveled in his distress, ropes and ropes of rage and desperation twisting together with the force of his power, sowing down deep into the earth, and expelling into the sky. “Should one protest… well.” She didn’t finish, just fixed her gaze beyond him, out through the window where the sky swirled with violent hues of black and purple.

“Her parents.” Jet refused him a response, but he didn’t need one to know the truth. “She doesn’t know.” He continued, and she slunk from her perch to the corner of the table.

“Have you considered what will happen, after your damage is done? What the coven will do when they discover her betrayal? Or worse…. you and your brothers are not the only ones who go bump in the night here. Fern is a magnet for creatures. Without the protection of her coven, she will be a target. She will be vulnerable.” She studied him, and he felt the shadowed point of her power, probing along his own, trying to peer into his mind.

He let a swirl of chaos break free, pushed out into the open.

He let a sentiment slip through, into her sight.

He had considered it, had planned for it. Anticipated it.

She met his eyes with her own, and understanding, recognition occurred between them.

“You plan to take her.”

He blinks onto the veranda of his own home, eager to escape the argument, rubbing his neck in exasperation when he catches the scent of balsam and citrus, mineral and blood, coming from the garden.

It’s you. You’re in the garden.

“Hello.” Johnny calls, stepping into the grass but no further, allowing you to see him, to recognize him as a non-threat. The light from the moons spills down your back and across your skin, making you shimmer under their glow, illuminating you in the brisk night air. The flowers around you are all in bloom, even in the middle of the night, and his lips quirk to the side with a smile when he realizes it’s your doing, velvety petals blossoming across the grounds in large swatches, vibrating with the signature of your magic.

You’re sitting amongst a variety of plants, long vines that stretch and strain towards where your fingers dance to entice them into reaching for you.

“Hi.” You don’t bother to lift your eyes, and it stings a little, disappointment settling heavy in his stomach. He takes a deep breath.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” you bristle, and he grinds his teeth. About us? About the binding? About what happened? About how sorry I am? About how I cannot stop thinking about ye? Worrying about ye? Obsessing? He settles on, what happened, hoping that will ease you open to talking.

“About what happened.”

“About what happened, which time? The time when you used me to get information so your brother could abduct a Nereid, or the time you stole my name from me and then stole me from my own realm."

Well. Fuck.

“What’s wrong, Johnny? Cat got your tongue?” You latch onto his silence and dig in, not sparing him from your venom. His temper flares, needled on by the discomfort that is restless in his magic, and he pushes back at you.

“I will not apologize for doing what needed to be done to save ye, dove.” He snaps, drawing to his full height, and you glare at him, fury twisting your face into something that’s a little scary, and a little enthralling.

“Save me?” you hiss, incredulous. “Save me? You didn’t care much about saving me when you used me to get what you needed.” You stand, forgoing your plants to face him, fingers pointed to the ground, a hot flare of magic stretching across the space between him and you.

“I never wanted to hurt ye, I wanted to bring ye with me, but it was too late before ye knew the truth and I had no chance to explain.” He counters, and you laugh, the sound all sour and wrong, harsh, and unforgiving.

“You thought I would just go with you? You tricked me. You took advantage of me.” He feels the ground shifting, feels the earth growing under his feet, and your magic pulsing around him, strong and eager, pushing and pulling at something he cannot see. What is this? “You lied to me. You betrayed me.” The forest at your back groans, like the Isle herself is protesting this battle of wills, like she objects to the clash of power. The pressure in the air rises, and then something is tightening around his feet, restricting his boots, and tying him to the ground.

Roots.

There are tree roots, crisscrossed across his toes, snaking up his ankles.

“Fern.” He warns.

“Johnny.” You mock, and the magic crests, more gnarled plant life coming to sprout from the ground, lashing across his wrists, tying them tight to his sides wrapping him up like rope. “You won’t fight back?” you taunt, mouth curving into a wicked little smile. Another tendril of green binds around his forearm, and he grunts with effort to stay calm.

“No.” he grits out.

“No? No?” you hiss and step closer, bare feet pressing the grass down between your toes. You look like a predator in this moment, eyes sharp and narrowed, stalking closer to your prey. You’re enchanting, and unsettling, and the binding hums inside of him.

The plants twist past his forearms, tightening against his circulation, curling up his biceps and stroking the skin of his shoulders.

His power flares, distressed, confused.

In battle, if you were a foe, he’d already have struck you down, dealt you a killing blow.

“Fern. Stop this.” The vines squeeze him, and then crawl up his neck, holding firm beneath his jaw.

“Do you know what they wanted to do to me, Johnny? After they found out what I did?” He chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to wait you out, trying to see if you’ll draw back. “Answer me!” your voice cracks, and so does his heart.

“No.”

“They wanted to burn me at the stake.” You whisper, the words enough to take his breath. His magic thrashes. The spot underneath his ribs aches. “It wasn’t enough to shun me. They wanted to kill me.” He shakes his head furiously.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-“

“No, don’t say that. You’re not.”

“Ah wouldn’t have let them. No one will ever touch ye again Fern, I swear it.”

“Why even bother with more of these lies? You just needed to help your brother, and you didn’t care who was collateral damage. You used me.” You break, and a tear glitters on your cheek, refracting the light of the moons. “Just… just like them.” Oh, dove.

“No, no. That’s not… It’s not true. Ah care for ye, ye’ve meant something to me since the first day I laid-“

“Stop.” The plants squeeze him, and any tighter they’ll probably be strangling him. Cutting off his air. He fights against them, just marginally, enough to give himself some breathing room, and is surprised when they don’t loosen so easily. “I’m stronger here. Eilean taught me, how to feel this earth. How to hear it breathing, find its water, its blood.” You explain, tone bitter, and he nods a slow agreement.

“Of course.” Of course, she did. Because she likes you, dove. She accepts you. She wishes for you to make your home here. With me. With us.

He doesn’t try again, doesn’t flex in the web of plants that you’ve wrapped him in, just stands completely still, waiting. He urges his power to settle, to resist the call of blood and battle, to stand down as you seethe.

If he tried, only a little harder, he could shred the vines and roots in an instant. He could break free.

But a large part of him, spurred on by the gaping hole that’s been left by your absence, the pain that’s nestled in his diaphragm, doesn’t want to.

Most of him wants to stand here and take it, take everything from you.

It’s no more than he deserves, and he knows it.

Your hands are shaking, fingernails gleaming in the moonslight when you hastily wipe your cheek, and he wants so badly to reach for you. To hold you. To tell you how sorry he is. How he wishes he could take it all back. How he never wanted to hurt you.

“I trusted you.” It’s a whisper on the wind, spoken to the earth, to the sky, to anywhere but him. The words are hollow, like there’s nothing left there for him, like you’ve written your story, and his pages are long over.

“Ah know.” He murmurs. Your tears drip onto the grass, and he watches each one splash while dread swallows his heart whole. The ache in his ribs burns, magic howling through his limbs, tugging and digging against him to act, to move.

In the end, he doesn’t move at all. He stands trapped in the vines you’ve grown around him, stands trapped in time as you walk past him and up the veranda into the estate. The wind shrieks through the trees, whipping around where he stands immobile, and he watches the light in your room on the second-floor flick on, a warm yellow glow seeping out from behind the curtains as you peek around them, gazing down to where he stands, still like a statue in the garden below.

He stands there until your room goes dark.

The light sparkled across your skin, your hair, your eyes. He had never been fond of the mortal realm’s sun, always finding it too harsh, too abrasive, but the way it shone on you in that moment, he wasn’t sure he had loved anything more.

“Which was your favorite, then?” You extended the thing in your hand towards him, the fragrant, sweet ice cream treat, and he politely shook his head to decline.

“Ah dinnae care much for it, if ‘m being honest.”

“What?” Your other arm stayed looped in his, allowing him to subtly press his hip against yours, feel the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your skirt as the two of you took long, loping steps down the park’s path. “How can you not like ice cream?” You frowned. “We sampled so many. You didn’t like any of them?” He considered explaining he only sampled them because it allowed him to stand to so close you in that tiny shop. That he liked it because he was able to wrap his fingers around yours when you passed him the tiny spoons.

“The mint was alright.” He told you instead, and you huffed. “The lavender one too.” You gave him a curious look, and he couldn’t help himself, too eager to see you smile, too weak to resist the promise of your laughter. “It seems, I am overly fond of plants.”

The sea roars beneath grassy knoll where he hides. He swears it’s screaming your name, calling to you, crying about you.

He tries to clear his mind.

It’s why he comes here. To think. To be alone. To be unbothered. The hill is tucked away from his home, and he sits in the shadow of an ash tree, staring at the sky, waiting to settle, waiting to feel at peace.

A fool’s errand.

His mind is incapable of rest. It can only dwell on one thing, his desperation, his desire, his longing for you. The yearning in his heart that now works in tandem with the binding, trying to drag him towards you every waking moment of the day, trying to force him into your path.

You’re in the hallway when he returns, stack of books clutched to your body.

“Fern.” He chokes out, dumbstruck. He had planned a speech, for this, after what happened in the garden. A plea. A desperate sonnet of sadness and guilt. But in this moment, with you standing in front of him like a wild animal that may dart away at any moment, everything escapes him. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his brain feels blank.

You’re frozen, looking back at him, eyes wide, and a tiny sliver of relief fractures through his heart when he doesn’t smell any fear on you.

“Hi.” You whisper, and like a magnet, he cannot stop himself from stepping closer.

You do not flinch, or move, or even look away. You just… stare at him.

“Are ye well?” He tries, and you swallow so loud he can hear it rattling in his brain.

“I… am. Are you?”

“As well as I can be.” I’m in love with ye. I’ve been in love with ye. I’m sorry. All of these things echo in his mind, circling his consciousness but none of them come to the forefront. Instead, he stammers out a: “Ye look… beautiful.” Bleedin’ gods. It’s a massacre. He tries to smother his grimace and you give him a funny look.

“Thank you.”

“Are ye, getting on well here?” He motions to the too long, too wide hallway that seems to stretch farther and farther every second, and you nod slowly.

“Yes, you have… a lot of books.”

“Ah… ‘ve always been fond of them. The books.” He agrees, and your lips flick upwards in a polite smile. His heart races.

He takes another step.

It’s too much. You shrink away, moving backwards, and he curses himself.

“Sorry-“

“I should go.” You gesture the leather-bound volumes in your grasp.

“Of course.” He concedes, and you incline your head to him before turning around.

His magic screams through his body the entire time he watches you walk away.

You’ve made yourself at home in the library. He tries to push away the glee that it brings him, the fire that it stokes within him, the urge that it encourages. The binding warbles inside his magic, his soul, as he passes the door every day, tugging and dragging him until he’s trying the handle one morning, ignoring his prior commitments, opting to slide inside the heavy wooden doors just for a chance to see your face.

“You have books from my ho- from the mortal realm.” He winces, when you cut your words off abruptly and reroute them, all while staring at him from the desk in the library. Your fingers stroke the corner of a volume that lays open in front of you, and he takes a step closer, slowly, hesitantly, waiting to see if you’ll spook.

You don’t. You don’t even fidget, or flinch, just gently turn the pages as if everything is normal.

“Would ye like to see something special?” He cannot help it, this desire to impress you, to tempt you. He wants to catch you, keep you, hold you in a thrall like you hold him in yours. He thinks he should probably feel guilty, for using the things he knows you love so dear to entice you, to gentle you to him and draw you out, but he can’t find it in himself to feel poorly for it. He’s worried sick. He wants to see you smile again. Wants the life to come back to your eyes.

He wants his sweet Fern. His little witch.

He gestures to a book, one that sits in a glass case on a table next to his side, black binding shiny and perfect as if it were brand new and not thousands of years old.

“What is it?” You cannot help yourself, brushing past him to lean over the glass, eyes wide and curious.

“It’s a grimoire.” You inspect it with a frown, and he threads his magic through the air and into the glass, evaporating it into its original form, tiny spheres of sand that disappear before your eyes. You startle, and he smirks when you look up at him.

“Doesn’t look like any grimoire I’ve ever seen.” Your hand cautiously hovers above the spell book, and he can feel your magic probing along the edges, testing, seeking.

“It’s from a Netherworld.”

“Which?” you blurt, and then look half embarrassed, before tacking on a soft spoken, “And how?” He’s not surprised that you know of them, but it feels uneasy, knowing you may have been exposed to something from those realms, some sort of monster or creature, a Demon or worse, an Angel.

“The Below. I travel there, sometimes.” Your jaw goes slack, and you study him closer, something foreign flickering across your features before they turn doleful.

“I have seen them.” What? You turn a page with your magic, being careful not to let your fingers directly touch the pages. “Through Divination. I’ve seen both the Below, and Above.” You shudder, and his heart thunders, blood rushing through his ears.

A mortal witch, who’s not a mortal at all. Who spins blood and can see through realms, into the Below and Above. Places not even Gaz or Price dare travel to.

Formidable indeed.

“Dove, that’s… that must have been frightening.” Another page turns beneath your fingers, and you shrug.

“I have been Divining since I was a child. I’ve seen many things. It’s how I knew where we were, when I woke up,” Rage rips through him, unbridled and coarse, rousing his magic into a whirlwind of anger, the feel of it as violent as when he first learned the truth. It makes his blood boil in his veins, makes the shelves in the library vibrate in anticipation, his magic bouncing around the room, seeking to destroy, to sow chaos, to obliterate.

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice calls, echoing inside his skull, and he tenses, muscles turning to stone as he feels for his brother, locating him and Gaz outside, in the hall.

“Not now.” He grits in response, but he hasn’t forgotten his prior engagement, and knows trying to put it off is pointless.

When they come closer, when Simon pulls the doors wide, he bares his teeth, tension filling the air of the library. They stand at a respectful distance, not stepping inside, leagues away at the opposite end of the room, but he still feels overly exposed, can feel the pull of possession as he instinctually positions himself between your body and theirs.

You frown at his brothers before stepping into the shadow of his body, close enough that you brush against him, your fingers tracing a barely-there circle on the inside of his wrist.

“Why did you do it?” You break the silence, whispering to the ceiling, and he frowns.

“Do what?”

“Make me fall in love with you.” You still do not look at him, but he cannot tear his eyes from you, mouth wide with shock, the space beneath his ribs pulsing with chaotic magic, his heart beating too fast to count. “You could have just… used your magic. You could have taken what I knew, by force. Why did you spend all that time with me?” The confession slowly takes shape across his tongue, heavy and raw, ready to drip like honey from his mouth to yours.

“I- are ye in love with me, Fern?”

“Answer the question.”

“I knew what I had to do, to help my brother but ye were unexpected. The worst, and most wonderful surprise of my eternal existence.”

“Johnny.” Simon’s insistence echoes across his mind and he feels the urge to turn on them both, to banish them from the estate, from the Isle, from his life, just to keep his time with you from being interrupted.

‘Bloody terrible timing.”

“Clearly. But this cannot be delayed.” He clenches his jaw, and pulls your hand into his, smoothing a palm over your knuckles.

“I’ll be back later, if ye want to talk more.” It’s a hopeful thing, this sentence. Something that carries so much weight, without even being a question. Something that has the power to crush him, without a mere thought.

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Okay?” your head bobs, and you look down at the book with mock interest.

“I do not forgive you but, I’d like to… talk. Yes.” Yes. Yes. The word rings between his ears. He can work for your forgiveness, he can spend the rest of his existence earning it, if this means you’ll let him. If you’ll speak to him.

“Later then?” He manages to get out, and then squeezes your hand in a goodbye after you nod.

He does not see the way you stare at your own fingers after he leaves, does not see the way your magic explodes throughout the library, before settling back against your skin like a warm embrace, your side of the binding fluttering in your heart.

“My home is alive.” He told your sleeping form, words quiet as he watched for any sign of you waking. “The place where my home is built, where I was born. The Isle. She chooses, who can stay, who can make their life there. She is a complex thing, a wild thing. Like you.” You twitched, and he paused, holding still as he waited.

When you didn’t rouse, he pushed a small spark of chaos into your sleeping mind, drawing you in deeper, settling you into your wildest dreams. “Jet told me, about what ye’ve been through. About what the coven has done to ye, forced ye to do… and I think, the Isle would accept ye. Ah think she would like ye, and welcome ye, Fern. With me.” You shivered, and he instinctually warmed the room, raising the temperature until you settled.

“Johnny.” Price called inside his mind, insistent, but patient. “We have business.” He sighed.

He had already been here too long tonight, and his brothers waited for him.

The kiss to your hair was fleeting. Gentle. Sweet. Punctuated with a whisper lost on the breeze from the open window.

“Gods, what have ye done to me little witch?”

“Ye come out here often.” He says quietly from the door, standing just beyond it after spotting you on the veranda, and you nod slowly in response, eyes dragging away from the sky to his, before returning upwards. The night is soft. Calm edged and serene, the breeze carrying a hint of sea spray from the foam below.

“I’ve never seen so many.”

“Stars?”

“Planets.”

“Surely there are other planets besides your own?” He knows there are, he’s seen them in sky, in the mortal realm.

“Yes, but not like this. There’s… there’s nothing, like this.” Your lips part, throat bobbing with a breath and he feels a strange tightening his chest as he watches you take it in. You look so amazed, so enchanted, so captivated by something he views so ordinary, that he too, tilts his head back to look up at the dizzying number of planets. Hundreds of worlds swirl in the inky darkness above them, their colors so vibrant they shine like gemstones, blinking in and out of the velvet backdrop that is the night sky. “There are so many worlds. So many places.” you whisper to him, a smile full of awe sloping across your lips. “Do you go to them? These worlds?”

“Some.”

“Some.” you parrot. “Some.” you laugh, like the notion is absurd, which it probably is, to you. Something inconceivable, improbable. “They’re beautiful.” Your hand raises to reach for them, as if you could pluck one right out of the night and hold it in your palm. He watches, entranced by the way the three moon’s light shimmers across your face, bathing you in a purple silver glow, spilling over your shoulders and across your skin graciously, framing you like a star, a celestial being. His throat feels dry.

“Aye. They are.” You lapse into silence, and he enjoys the feeling of being near you, his magic humming happily in his being, peace settling over him while you watch the stars, transfixed.

“Johnny.” You breathe his name, sweet and syrupy, magic dripping from each syllable. You look a little dazed, exhaustion pulling at your features, and he indulges in a daydream where he kisses your forehead, pressing a hint of power against your skin, wrapping you in a soft cocoon of his magic to comfort you. “I… I’d like to kiss you.” The words break him from his imaginations, and he jerks, pulling away to inspect your face, to see if were alright. Or if you were reading his mind. Or if you had become possessed by some Demon, some evil creature appearing here to make him suffer more than he already was.

But all he sees is his dove. His Fern. His little witch, face soft and open, expectant.

“Would you deny me, Johnny? After everything you’ve done?” You raise an eyebrow, and his heart sings, magic humming along happily, binding trilling in his body. You’re teasing him.

“Ye never have to ask.” The words are the same ones he said on Samhain, and he restrains his movements, keeping his body slow and steady while he leans into you, lowering his mouth to yours, the warmth of your lips against him sending his heart soaring, the intoxicating scent of you, the feel of your magic, the light caress of your fingers against his hip all amplified in this realm, and by the binding that seems to be stitching the two of you together by every moment.

He follows your lead, giving you space when you begin to ease off from him, and explosions rattle his soul as he stares down at you and your cautious smile.

“I love ye, Fern.” Your eyes go wide, and you startle, stepping a half pace away. “I dinnae how to tell ye, after everything. Ah ken, ah… there’s nothing that can be said, to make up for my treachery, for what I did to you.” He can feel the binding, the sailor’s knot tightening around the two of you, dragging you into one another, can feel the distinct signature of your magic, swirling around him, can smell the sweet citrus and blood dipped in balsam that floods his dreams. It’s enough to make his head spin.

“Johnny, this- this is the binding, it’s...” He shakes his head in rebuttal and reaches for your hand.

“I’ve loved ye since the first day I set foot in the shop. I’d burn the realms for ye, Fern.”

“You used me.”

“And ye will never know how I regret it, how I wish I could change it.” Let me love you. Let me hold you. Let me have you. The swell of the tide within him crests, magic churning into an excessive force, the binding burning, screaming, yearning against his lungs, and he pushes and pulls at it, twisting it up into something he struggles to contain. “Break the binding or leave it intact. It won’t change the way I feel.”

“I-“ Your words are snatched from your mouth when you draw a quick breath, bending at the waist, flat of your palm pressed to your belly with a soft groan.

“Fern?” His hand hovers at the small of your back, just above your skin.

“Sorry, I- I just had a cramp, is all.” You straighten, faint grimace sunken into your expression, and he frowns.

“What do ye need?”

“Nothing, I’m just gonna go lay down, I think.” You’re still holding your stomach, and worry froths in his heart, his mind as he watches you wince.

“Ye sure? Do you need-“

“I’m sure.” You wave him off, already turning away. “Goodnight, Johnny.” You murmur over your shoulder.

“Sleep well, little witch.”

The shockwave that ripples through his home in the small hours of the morning startles him from restless sleep. It jolts him into a panic, the binding clawing at his mind, his magic, tugging and pulling him towards something.

Towards you.

“Fern?” He calls, body teetering at the threshold of your room.

Are you dreaming?

Are you ill?

He can smell you from the doorway, balsam and citrus tinged with the scent of sour fruit, distress permeating through the air to where he stands, waiting. Holding his breath for answer.

“Fern.” He tries again, firmly, but you don’t respond, only moan into your pillow, the sound of your pain tearing at his heart until he’s blinkingacross the room, coming to lean over your trembling form, panic hammering inside his skull. “Hey, dove. Are ye with me?” He pulls you towards him, holding your face between his palms. Your eyes are nearly black, pupils so large they dot out your irises, and you thrash in his grip, nails digging into his skin while you cry out.

“Jo-Johnny. Johnny.” You’re sweating, sheets soaked beneath you, and the heat that’s blaring from your skin curdles his stomach.

The binding. The magic. It’s burning you from the inside.

You whimper, and his heart breaks for you, bleeds for you while you bury your nose in his neck, panting heavily.

“I’m here.” He tries to hold you steady, cradling the back of your head in his hand, the sear of your skin far too warm to be comfortable, the effect of the binding boiling in your blood.

You’re suffering. You’re suffering, and it’s his fault. He did this. He caused this.

Ce’s warning echoes sharply in his mind.

“You need to prepare for what is to come, if she cannot reverse it.”

The guilt fissures his heart in two.

“It hurts.” You try to tell him, weakly, and his frustration builds, the magic inside of him compounding, yearning to lash out.

“Ah know, Ah know it does.” The words are little comfort.

“Please. Pl-please make it stop.”

He can’t. He shouldn’t.

“It hu-hurts Johnny. Please. It burns.” You’re breaking apart in front of him. Inconsolable. Desperate. Dying.

“Shhh. ‘ve got ye.” He tries to calm you, holds you tight against him, pressing your body to his but all it does it make you squirm more, make you cry out against him, your voice broken with distress.

“Please! Please-“ you beg, and he slams his eyes shut.

He shouldn’t. He can’t.

But you’re in pain.

You could die.

The binding is heating your body past any measurable sense. You were not made to survive such a thing.

When he looks at you now, he knows his insistence on refusing this is pointless. He is too weak to give you up. He is not strong enough to say no. He has loved you since the day he first laid eyes on you. He would do anything to save you, to keep you alive.

Even if it meant this.

Even if it meant completing the bond the only way he knew how.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He kisses your breastbone, trails his lips down between your breasts, sucking marks into your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat like a dying mortal. “I’m going to make it okay.” He wants to take his time, wants to savor you, wants to have you the way he’s always dreamed about, slow and sweet, taking you apart piece by piece like you deserved.

There’s no time for that now.

“Johnny.” You whimper, something broken in your voice, a desperation unlike he’s ever heard before and it stings.

“Shhh. I’m going to take care of ye.”

A broken moan rises from your throat when he moves your body, shifting you underneath his weight, pinning your hips and teasing his tongue around one your nipples, nipping across you with his teeth just enough to sting your skin, to jolt you.

“I- I need- I want-“ You try to explain it, to direct him, and your magic flourishes forward, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for salvation.

“I know what ye need, Fern. Ah know.” His fingertips stroke over your navel, over where your lower belly tenses under his touch, and then to your cunt, where scorching heat mixes with liquid fire, your body wet and ready for him, desperate for him, magic burning you with arousal, with an undeniable need for him.

“Touch me.” You plead, and his lips find the inside of your thigh, dragging towards where you’re dripping, citrus and blood flooding his senses.

You taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of. Pressure builds up his spine, magic and desire burning like a fuse as he presses his tongue against your clit, and you shiver in his grasp when he lavishes you there.

His palm presses against your belly, holding you firm, muscles and sinew rippling under his touch, your voice peaking with a cry when he swirls around your swollen bud, over and over, working you relentlessly.

“Come for me, come on. Let me make it better, dove.” It won’t, and he knows it, knows only one thing will, but he hopes to the gods it will stave off some of your pain. He rasps against your skin and you keen, rocketing into an orgasm within a moment’s time, sharp and fiery, but only a balm for the burn of the binding, the incessant tugging beneath his ribs humming with miserable bliss over the moan of his name on your lips.

You’re still strung taut, seizing, the heat of your skin blazing against him. You tug fruitlessly at his clothes, fingers knotted up in his shirt, his pants, and he swipes a hand across your cheek to press his thumb against your tongue as he divests himself with one hand and a snap of magic.

His fingers are wet with you, with your spit, your arousal, and he coats himself with it, stroking the length of his cock, kissing the crown to your opening while he stares down at you indulgently.

His Fern. His dove. His little witch.

“Please.” You breathe your plea into him, into his mouth, his skin. “Please, it’s- I need you.” You choke and he pushes, your eyes going wide as he batters his way into your body, the tight clench of your walls strangling him as he moves. “Gods-“ you gasp, and he strokes some hair from your face, lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, your jaw to soothe you, to quiet the discomfort from the stretch.

“I know, I know.” He murmurs, keeping his movements slow and steady, watching how your expression eases, how your body adjusts, how your brows unknit with each passing moment. You relax around him finally, face going slack with bliss as he folds one of your knees back towards your shoulder. “That’s it, good… good girl.” He hums over your ear, before pressing a gentle kiss there. “Take me so well. So perfect.” He needs to fill you, own you, fuck you full and possess every inch of your being. It’s the only way, the only way to soothe your soul, to soothe his own. It’s always been the only way, since the day he saw you. Since the first time he kissed you, in the shadow of Samhain.

His heart flutters, the binding clawing at his power, wrapping itself around your heart, stitching across the bridge between your bodies to reach the other side, encasing itself and him in the warmth of blood magic, of your magic. It only grows stronger as his hips stroke, his body moving inside of yours, gasps of pleasure falling from your lips.

Your muscles clench around him, desperate, and it feels right. Everything feels right, it feels fated, it feels meant to be. Like you were made for him, born for him. You, his equal. You, his balance. He pads over your clit with a press of his fingers, moving against you in time with his thrusts and your power surges to meet his, interweaving until it’s impossible to discern your beginning and his ending.

“I’ve always wanted ye here with me.” He nips along your collarbone, tracing a bead of sweat up the skin of your neck to your jaw. “I broke into the flat, just to watch ye sleep, every night after Samhain.” He punches his sentence with thrust of his cock, brushing against your cervix, and you keen. “I’ve loved ye. Dreamt of ye. I have betrayed ye,” you mumble something, lashes fluttering, and he swallows your words with his mouth before continuing. “and will spend the rest of my existence, our existence, apologizing for my transgressions.” Your body shifts with him, the rhythm he set upon your clit forcing you forward, spine curling you into him, his name a whisper on your lips.

“Johnny, Johnny.”

He fucks into you harder, wild, primal, full of ferocity and you cry out, shuddering beneath him, squeezing around his cock. The urge to fill you, to breed you, is too strong to fight, and the binding croons to him in your voice, spurring him onwards.

“Gods, dove.” His voice is broken song, a plea, and you respond with a melody of your own. “Ye belong to me.” You nod in a daze, lips forming a word that sounds like please. “Going to give ye my come. Keep ye forever.”

“Ye-es.”

“Sweet Fern.” He coos when he feels it, the build of your climax, ushering you along with the press of his body. “My good girl, coming all over my cock. Like ye were made for it.” You hiss, and then your orgasm is washing you away, your voice shouting his name as you come. Your eyes spark, celestial light glittering beneath the black pools that have expanded across your irises, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulder, blood trickling down his chest, slicking between your bodies. It spills and spills, running like a river over the two of you, tracking across your breasts, down his abdomen, across your belly, down your thighs. It flows wildly, freely, rushing from him and towards you, spurred on by your mastery of it, your mastery of him.

You’re spinning him. You’re taking and taking, the binding drinking his magic in greedily, digging and scratching beneath the surface of his chaos, sowing vines that sprout and flourish, that tie him to you. His side of the binding shrieks in glee, in elation, and bends for you, arcing between your bodies to imbue you with cosmic pieces of chaos, a blend of blood and bedlam, boiling in your veins. In his.

Blood continues to gush from his body, his mouth full of you, of citrus and blood, of earth and balsam. You inhale him, pushing your tongue past his teeth, swirling in the mess there, and when you pull away, he can see the stains of ichor on your teeth under the curve your half-moon smile.

Your magic strangles him, strengthening itself, solidifying your power, absorbing what it can of his mayhem. The binding purrs, it sings to him, it sings to you, the sound chiming through his mind, echoing off the hollowed-out coves of the Isle, vibrating through its dark forest. He shouts against it, with it, orgasm just on the peak, both his body and yours trembling violently.

“Mine.” He snaps, and you answer easily.

“Yours.” You nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He cradles you there, back of your head in his palm, and then he thrusts up into your body as hard as he can, overcome with need, with the burn of the binding, with love. It’s so much, the pull of the magic, the wildness of your heart seeping into his own, and he spills as deep as he can into your body, filling you with himself, plugging his come deep, your own body sucking him in desperately while you cry and shake in his arms.

His Fern. His dove. His little witch.

Ancient celestial light streams through the curtains, the proof of an entire day passing, the rising of the moons stirring you from where you have slept for the last few hours, body and binding finally sated, skin scrubbed clean from the stain of his blood.

You blink, heavily with exhaustion, and he pulls you into his body, unable to resist cuddling you close, breathing you in and wrapping an arm around your back to still you when you start to fidget. You smell different now, like a swirling storm of him and you, and his free hand drifts to your navel possessively.

“Johnny.” You murmur, and he answers by pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here.” He whispers. “Ye can rest dove. It’s okay.” You settle against him, and just as he’s starting to drift into his own star lit slumber, you sigh.

“You should start makin’ a list.”

“Of what?” You kiss his chest, lips soft against his skin.

“Of all the things,” you yawn, breath hot and sweet, and he wants to drag his tongue over your skin again, take you apart while he savors every tremble, every moan that leaves your body. “you’re going to do over the next hundred years to make it up to me.”

“One hundred years?” he chuckles in jest, but his heart soars.

He knows, there is more hardship to come. He knows, the pain, the suffering, that you will experience, that you will unleash on the mortal realm, on him, when you learn the truth about your parents, about your coven. He knows the challenge ahead.

But in this quiet moment, with you in his arms, nothing about it feels like the end.

Only the beginning.

“Careful." you breathe into him. "Or I’ll make it two.”

#peaches writes #which witch #john soap mactavish #fae au #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #fae!johnny #john soap mactavish x you #fae!au #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod x reader #fae!soap #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #magic!au #magic au

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ist4rgirlo · 9 months

Text

──────── 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

what else can you do when you see the love of your life looking at someone else like how you look at him?

SEQUEL : invisible string

───────────────────────────

There it was again, that pain in my heart. That pain that I’ve been constantly feeling whenever I would look at Conrad and Belly. He had this smile, this smile that only comes out for Belly. What was so special about her? what was so special about her that I don’t have?

Where did it start? when did things start to fall apart? it started with him acting so different — ever since Belly came here last summer, his world started to revolve around her. It was like I wasn’t here at all.

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

There were times where I would be alone in my room, thinking if I’ve done enough. If I was worth it, If I deserve Conrad. I felt insecure — Belly was beautiful, I admit that — she’s always been beautiful.

Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

He failed to see the signs, he failed to see how hurt I was. How it pains me everytime he would say the words “i love you” because it never sounded sincere anymore.

He would act like nothing happened, completely ignoring me. He doesn’t even notice that when we’re talking, all he talks about is Belly. He never saw the glint in my eyes, he ignored my cries, my cries for him.

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me

I never wanted to lose him, it would kill me if I did. I never saw myself not loving him anymore. He is my dream, the love of my life — well was. It was exhausting, tiring — now he’s slowly losing me.

I walked towards Belly and Conrad — “Excuse me” I asked softly, looking at the both of them.

“Hey, y/n” Belly smiled at me, I looked at Conrad — he was barely taking his eyes away from Belly, mesmerized by her smile.

“Uh.. can I talk to Conrad?” I asked, looking down. My hands were shaking, tears started to form in my eyes. I hated this, I shouldn’t have walked towards them.

Conrad looked at me before saying bye to Belly, he pulled me to the side — raising his brows at me, tilting his head — waiting for me to talk.

He looked different, he acted different — the man infront of me looks nothing like the man I fell inlove with. I looked at hin in the eyes, seeing no emotions in it — my heart shattered.

“I-Is something wrong between us?”

“Wrong? I don’t understand you” He sounded genuinely confused, it was ridiculous. I should’ve just stopped there, at this point I am the one hurting myself.

“I know you don’t”

I chuckled, looking down. “Y/n if you’re going to waste my time then just do it another time” he said — running a hand through his hair — stealing a glance at Belly.

I scoffed, he looked at me — his brows furrowed “What?”.

“Oh nothing, I just think that you can’t take your eyes off her. I mean I can’t really blame you”

“What are you talking about?!” Conrad’s voice started to raise a little.

“I’m not stupid, Conrad. I can see it, you don’t have to lie to me. You’re falling for her, are you?” — “Conrad” it felt wrong, it didn’t feel right at all — calling him by his name — it felt like we were strangers. He was just silent — looking away.

Why can’t he say anything? why is he so quiet? why is he not denying it? why isn’t he choosing me?

“Do something, babe, say something" (say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me)

He bit his lip before saying “Y/n, I’m sorry” he tried to reach for my hand — his face filled with guilt. I bit my lip as I fought back a sob — pulling my hand away from him, walking away from him.

My heary dropped, my stomach churned. I regret it, god why am I so stupid? I couldn’t breathe, my heart broke in so many pieces. What happened to us? where did I go wrong?

I gave him all my best me's, my endless empathy.

I shook my head no, “No, i’m sorry for being so fucking stupid. I should’ve never let it last this long, we shouldn’t have happened. I knew that there was always a spot for her in your heart, I should’ve just stayed away” that wasn’t true, I don’t know why I said that.

Conrad looked at me, walking towards me grabbing my hand “No.. no y-you don’t mean that. Please, y-you don’t know what you’re saying.” he stuttered, shaking his head no — hurt from what I just said, he knew it was true, he tried to deny it but he can’t.

All I wanted was for him to notice me, for him to love me like how much I love him. No one told me how exhausting it was to chase someone who won’t give you back what you gaveto them.

Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing)

To believe

Unless you're choosin' me"

“I-I’ll just go, I’m sorry for ruining this party. I’m so so sorry, Susannah” I said before putting a hand over my mouth — pulling away from him, turning around.

“Darling please“ Susannah said standing up from her seat, I looked at her, shaking my head no.

“Do something, Connie!” Jeremiah panicked — yelling at Conrad — he was about to run towards me but he was too late, I was already out of the door.

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

I looked back — seeing Conrad hugging Belly through the window. I ran towards my car and went inside — I sobbed as I drove off — didn’t dare to even look back. That was my que to leave because he already chose, and he didn’t choose me.

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're runnin' down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone

───────────────────────────

here you go anon !! this totally broke my heart — i hope you enjoy <3

#conrad fisher #tsitp #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #abtconrad fics #Spotify #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp imagine

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chaotic-on-main · 6 months

Text

a little moodboard I made for @happybird16 because I felt inspired

Levi Ackerman never thought he would settle down. It wasn’t as if he never wanted it- it was just something that he never thought was possible for someone like him. Of course, it was self imposed – he just wasn’t the approachable type. But then one day, you stumbled into the little café he worked in on a day he wasn’t even supposed to be scheduled. You were quite frazzled, something he didn’t really care to know why until much later down the road. You had asked what he might recommend and he couldn’t help but scoff because that’s not the first time someone came in and wasted his time on a busy morning. But perhaps you caught him on a good day because he didn’t say anything back and just started on your order. You watch as his adept fingers move gracefully as he takes out a tea sachet and plops it into steaming water. You never thought you’d be a tea person until that day. After one sip, you became a regular.

You would come in almost every day, sometimes even twice. He didn’t really care to ask, though he did start getting curious as to how you’re getting this much money to buy tea every day. It got to a point where he’d see you walk in and he would step away from whatever he was doing (yes, even from a customer he was already serving) to make your order exactly the way you liked it.

One slow day after months of this routine, you came in crying and though he felt he might regret it, he asked what was wrong. You sniffled, mumbled something about being unsafe at home, and he had a revelation that this is why you come in so much. He asked what happened, this time out of concern, and maybe it was because you were so comfortable in his presence that you told him about your living situation- most days you never felt security from the person you should be calling family. And now he doesn’t think twice about asking if you needed a place to stay for the night – though he does internally kick himself- how stupid of him to ask someone he doesn’t even know. You of course declined politely, gave him a smile, then grabbed your hot cup from his fingers before sitting down in your favorite spot.

He can’t help but watch you the rest of the evening as you stare blankly out the rain-dropped window facing the street. You didn’t realize what the time was until you felt someone sitting in the chair in front of you. Tired gray eyes stare at you over the owner’s own to-go cup of whatever it was. His apron is draped over his shoulder and behind him, the café is dimly lit and empty. They were closed. You apologize for overstaying your welcome and start to pack up but he reaches over and grabs your bag before you can leave. “It’s late.” Is all he says. Maybe it was the sense of security that you haven’t felt in so long, but you ask if his invitation is still open.

Suddenly, it’s a few years later and you’re setting a box filled with heavy dishes down onto a marble countertop, the sound of the impact reverberating off the empty walls. Evening birds chirp through the open windows as the golden sun rays filter through. A contented sigh escapes you as you take in the moment. “Let’s call it here for the night.” A familiar voice says next to you. When you look over, you’re greeted with a lopsided smile. How fortunate it was that Levi picked up that shift so many years ago.

#tay.moots #moodboard #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk

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rinstaro · 1 year

Note

I’m the anon that sent in the request for time to manhandle me!! 🙋‍♀️ pls do elaborate 😏

also sky could smack me around and edge the daylights out of me but that’s a request for another day 🥴

Ty and stay safe!!

you stay safe too my love <3

sky smacking you around..... pls don't tempt me I WAS ALREADY WRITING FOR HIM AND NOW I WANNA START ANOTHER ONE

for now lets stick with zaddy time,,,,,,,

cw: fingering, degrading, edging, like one spank, sloppy blowjob, reader's a brat. reader has a vagina and no pronouns. not proofread! sorry this is so short ebdjjsks

always messing with him when he's busy, always teasing him when you're out in public. it's not your fault he decided to be a fine hunk of a man. it's not your fault that his chest and arms bulge out of that stupid shirt, making you think of what's underneath. and it's not your fault that you just happened to act on those thoughts. your husband was just being a jerk.

whispers in his ear, feeling up his arms, pressing your body against his in an 'affectionate' manner. you knew time grew tired once he fell silent. unfortunately that didn't stop you. he couldn’t even buy groceries without you being desperate for him?

"maybe if you were a little smarter, you wouldn't be in this position."

his fingers never slowed as his lips wrapped around your clit, making you keen. his other hand pinned your hips, keeping you from grinding into his touch. damn him for being so strong. you were in this position due to your own actions, which you did not regret in the slightest. you whined, the feeling of your orgasm crawling up your spine once more.

"s-shit, i still got you between my legs, don't i?" your smart remark was cut off by a sharp pain in your thigh. it was rare that he spanked you, but it let you know that he was getting really pissed. the pain mixed with the feeling of his fingers curling against your soft spot had you gushing. time slid his fingers out of you once he felt your cunt start to clench around him even harder, making you cry out in disappointment.

"hey. don't even think about it. you won't be cumming for a while," he grunted, grabbing your arms to guide you into a new position. you were sitting on your knees in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed. he finally undid his belt, using it to tie your wrists in place. you could have drooled when he finally took out his cock, leaking precum all over his hand.

"you don't deserve to have your greedy cunt stuffed full just yet. show me what you can do and i'll think about it, hm?"

without another word, you lean forward, wasting no time in taking the tip in your mouth, causing him to hiss. swirling your tongue, you made sure to give the sensitive head plenty of attention before sinking lower, taking in as much of him as you could. “fuck, that’s it,” he growled.

you bobbed your head at a steady rhythm, concentrating on breathing through your nose. time couldn’t help but look at you lovingly. even though you were a damn brat, you always made it up to him by pleasing him so well.

you went down as far as you could, swallowing around him. his hips twitched as he let out a soft moan, hand coming to grip at your hair. “come on, brat. i know you can get sloppier than that.”

you whimpered, picking up your pace. drool and spit started dripping down your chin as you gave him all that you could, desperate to feel his cock twitch in your mouth. you peered up at him through your lashes, the eye contact sending shivers down his spine. your husband couldn’t help but buck his hips. he began to shallowly fuck your mouth, allowing groans and hisses to slip through his teeth. you felt so damn good, and his resolve was starting to crumble.

your poor cunt was soaked, dripping all over the floor. you were moaning around him as you basically begged him to cum down your throat. your hips were moving ever so slightly, grinding against nothing in an attempt to relieve the ache. time was doing no better, hips beginning to stutter.

“f-fuck, gonna give it to you, can you take it?” time asked, head thrown back in ecstasy. you moaned an enthusiastic ‘mm-hmm!’ in response. you stopped moving, letting him recklessly thrust into your mouth. he let out a deep moan as his hips came to a stop, cumming so hard he could see stars. you sighed happily as you did your best to swallow, greedy for anything he’d give you.

once you felt the grip on your hair ease up, you pulled off of him, pressing one last kiss to the tip. you could’ve died happy when you looked up at your husband. rarely did you get to see him with such a fucked out look on his face, as you were often too busy cumming your own brains out.

“‘that feel good, sir?”

“mmm, felt amazing. come here, kiss me.” of course you couldn’t say no, climbing on top of him when he untied your wrists. you felt his dick harden once more, throbbing against your leg. contrary to how he just treated you, he kissed you sweetly. you pulled away with a gasp when you felt him squeeze your ass.

“so good for me. gonna make you cum this time, okay love?”

#kore.writes #kores.blurbs #link x reader #link x reader smut #loz #loz x reader smut #loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda smut #ugh i hate tags

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k-krissten · 5 months

Text

Interstellar | part III

Minsung x Fem!

Synopsis: Nova is the star of K-pop, and also the best friend of Jisung and Minho, she is the girl of the moment, and her falling in love with them will change everything, although it will be for the better... Or not?

Warning: Sex mentions and many curses.

“God Min, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry, but really, Nova, what's wrong with you? You’ve been acting so fucking weird since the party.” Minho spoke as he took the girl's arms.

“It's nothing, I'm just tired” Nova spoke, looking at the ground like she always did when she was nervous.

“Why are you lying to us?” Jisung questioned. “Is this because we left you alone at the party?”

“No, it's not that, it's nothing.” The girl responded, beginning to lose patience. I didn't want to talk about it, how could I address it? “It's just that I'm fucking in love with you, that oh in fact you are boyfriends, my best friends and oh right you left me alone at a party that I didn't want to go to and I went alone for you and you left me to go fuck in the bathroom, if that's all it is”. “I'm just tired, I already said it.”

“You keep lying, you think we are stupid, Nova, we know you, we know when you lie.”

“God Minho I'm not lying!” I scream, pulling away from the man's grip.

“It's because we went to fuck, right?” Jisung answered, upset. “Of course that, we saw you when you interrupted.”

Anger ran through the girl's body, she no longer wanted to be in the room. She hated when people forced her to say things, she was always very self-reflective, she liked to analyze things many times in her own head, organize her thoughts and be very clear with what she wanted to say. People would call it overthinking, she called it caution. And at this moment he certainly didn't have any clear thoughts.

“Han, whether they fuck or stop fucking is not my problem and I'm not interested, I already told you that nothing happens to me”

“Well, it doesn't seem like you're not interested, it seems like it clearly affects you.” the older boy answered ironically.

“This is so stupid, are you really that upset because we fucked?” Jisung continued to waste, Nova believed that Jisung was perfect, but if she had to point out a flaw it would be that he doesn't know how to shut up when he's upset. He always said things that he later regretted. “Well, you're going to hate us when you find out that we fuck every chance we get. In fact, while you were on stage, we fucked, right here, on the nice chair that you like so much.”

“You know what? “Fuck off, let’s talk when your brains work.” The woman screamed excitedly, opening the door.

“No, you're not leaving here until we clear this up.” She was stopped by Lee Know.

“What do you want to clarify? Tell me, what the hell do you want me to tell you?

At this point in the discussion, Nova doubted if she could continue without bursting into tears, tears stung her eyes and she could feel a lump forming in her throat. And she knew that the words the younger boy said had been spat with venom, to break her and tell them what was happening to her.

“What's happening to you, that's what we want you to tell us.”

“Do you know what's happening to me?” Would Nova really tell them her feelings there? In a dressing room, with her staff walking through the hallways and probably listening to her screams. With the boys waiting for her to go home to celebrate? And above all, he would tell them even though his confession would break their friendship.

God yes.

They had never argued like this before, and well she knew that at some point, sooner or later they would find out about her feelings. How bad could things get?

Very badly.

“I'm so fucking in love with you.” The girl shouted. “They wanted to know what was happening to me? That's it.”

She watched their faces go from confusion to anger.

“You're kidding aren't you?” Minho shouted. “This has to be a fucking joke.”

“God Nova! Minho and I are dating, we are in love, how do you want us to react? Do you want a damn applause, a kiss? Let us tell you,oh Nova we are also in love with you”.

“You continued to be our friend, for what? To get into our pants at the first opportunity you had?” Minho spoke taking the girl again, only it was no longer with a gentle and loving hold, this one was hard and actually painful. “People are right when they say you're just another ordinary slut. You don't even settle for one, you want us both."

Those words were what brought her out of shock. It was as if he returned to his body and noticed that his hands were shaking, his breathing was labored and he felt a cold sweat running down his back. Oh no, I would have a panic attack, I needed to get out of there.

•

Hi, this chapter will be written in the third person since I will soon edit the previous ones so that they are also written like this. Sooo, I hope you like it 💌💌

Remember that English is not my first language, if you see an error do not hesitate to tell me. This is my first job and I’m a little nervous. If you like me please reblog or let me know in the comments.

—Kristen.

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kasdeyalilith · 2 years

Text

Before It's Too Late

Warnings: Angst(no comfort)

:Scaramouche;Kazuha;Xiao;Diluc x GN Reader

You love how constant things are.

Everyday, the same thing will happen. A kiss for your lover in the morning then work until the last rays of sun can be seen and return to his arms at night.

You hate change.

Hate how his eyes don't hold the same love for you. He stops talking to you and asking how your day was. Body turning away from you whenever you try to hug him, an excuse always slipping from him.

You stayed for love.

Fixing things as if it'll turn back the same but cracks have already appeared and you couldn't do anything but watch.

Everything happens so suddenly, like you're floating but drowning at the same time.

His words gripping your heart so much that even breathing hurts.

But a fool you are, hugging him and trying to make him stay with you. Words of affection already spilling from you, shame and dignity already thrown out of the picture. Everything for him to love you again.

Hope was in your eyes when he turned around until a stinging silence greeted you.

For a brief moment, you believed that you could still save your love for him.

No tears escape from you as you cradle your burning cheek from being slapped. As the realization of everything dawned on you, your pitiful form kneeled against the floor. You felt everything all at once, while he stands there stunned.

Shaking hands tried to reach for you but you backed away from him like a cornered animal.

"I'm so sorry,... I didn't - I'm so sorry (Y/N). Please let me hold you. I'm so sorry love I didn't mean to, please"

"You slapped me?" you asked, still in denial that the man you spend all your years with can hurt you so much like this.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N), I don't know what got into me-"

"You're right" you look at him and for the first time you feel calm, like the final piece fitting into the puzzle.

"This relationship's not gonna work. I can't force myself to you if you don't love me anymore"

"That's not true, I still love you (Y/n). Can we just talk about this?"

Picking yourself up you removed the ring he had given you and handed it to him. Already done being the one who keeps this relationship alive. You're tired in fighting for his affection everyday as if his love was limited to only acknowledging your presence alone.

"Stop this (Y/n), put this back right now, what are you doing?!"

Everything was clear now, as if you'd been suddenly brought to light.

Love is not enough to save the both of you and this was the last straw to give everything up. So you let it all fall.

"Don't please, no you can't do this! (Y/n)!"

"I love you! Please! Just... just stop. Let's talk ok? (Y/n)?"

You didn't turn back, even if he tried to call for you, just as how you imagined he did in your dreams once upon a time when you're still naive, stupid, and hopeful.

Packing your belongings as quickly as you can, not wasting anymore time as he begs for you stay like how you beg for him earlier.

Regret fills him as he watches the only thing that matters to him walk out of his life, unable to stop you because he has already hurt you so much that the least he can do is to let you go.

He stood helplessly by the door, wishing you'd return and love him again, but you didn't even once look back.

#xiao angst #genshin #xiao #genshin impact xiao #kunikuzushi #genshin angst #xiao x reader #diluc x you #scaramouche+angst #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara #xiao x you #diluc x y/n #diluc ragnvindr

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pedropascalunofficial · 7 months

Text

STORY TIME - THE FANDOM STAIN

My response to THIS post from stainsofpascal/thesweetestdecline earlier today

@thesweetestdecline

I am going to number these since you’re going to get tired.

1. FAKE IG ACCOUNT

You said I made a fake account in your name on IG? No. That fake stainsofpascal account isn't me. I'm in Ireland. We don't have Threads in Europe. And a VPN can't get around that. Please check your receipts before wasting all of our time with this bullshit narrative you're trying to deflect with.

2. LONG POSTS

You complained that my posts are long. That's because your bullshit is prolific. I don’t mess around. I like to give detailed accounts of what’s happening with receipts to back it up so ppl can clearly see what's going on in the fandom they're now ashamed to be part of. It's also to prevent ppl like you from deflecting by saying your accusers are "crazy" or "obsessed" with you. The receipts don't lie even though you’d like ppl to believe they do.

3. “BOT ATTACK” ON IG

You accused me of attacking you on IG? No. I haven’t done shit on IG. I haven’t attacked your stainsofpascal or thesweetestdecline accounts. You realise I’m just the loudest of many, many ppl who wonder why you're in the fandom?! Getting you suspended would only feed your need to be seen as an underdog. I’d rather watch all this play out as ppl wake up to your clout chasing. It's not me or my friends who will be your downfall. You'll manage that just fine by continuing your bullshit.

4. FOLLOWER COUNT ANOMALIES

You’re gas. Always playing the victim to deflect from your own misdeeds. Are you ever going to explain any of the unusual increases in follows or would you like us all to ignore the fact you can get 400 in a matter of hours and drop 500 the next day? Should we believe your version of accounts because you're...... an upstanding member of this community? Stop trying to compare your jumps in followers on your stainsofpascal IG account with other ppls. Your account numbers go up and down faster than a whores knickers on Paddy’s Day in Times Square. No one else has this but you and your dodgy minions who hid their dodgy numbers in a recent attempt to hide their ratios.

5. COME CLEAN

What have I done in this fandom? I'll admit it (again). I bought Pedro’s white pages and socials info via a website. That was stupid. I regret doing it. What was really stupid was that I shared some of it thinking it was for a laugh and your mate, (let's call her Ms Peacock) used it to trade with ppl across the fandom to gain clout and to gain more information about Pedro. I've tried to make amends but it's far too late as it snowballed into much bigger information getting traded. So to attempt to make amends, I decided to get closer to the psychos and report back. Shitty, I know, but at least the right ppl know about the stalking bullshit and Pedro can protect himself better.

6. MS PEACOCK AND STALKER REDDIT

After sharing his old info with you and Ms Peacock, I realised neither of you were looking into Pedro's old info just out of curiosity. You were tracking him and his friends around like they’re characters in a story. It’s my bad for not noticing the crazy when it was staring me in the face. I shared info which was traded from person to person in exchange for info that has been used to help Ms Peacock not just stalk Pedro online but get physically closer to him. First, driving past his old house and now, three years later, she’s living "#twoblocksaway" from his gym according to a recent post. Zero shame.

I shouldn't be surprised since she used to frequent his actual neighbourhood even though it was a three hour round trip from her town. Before all that, she told us she used his personal email for a project where a group of us had raised money to adopt an elephant for his birthday. I never did get the info on the elephant since she dipped on the group chat after getting what she wanted. Ms Peacock traded info some of us had given her with others in turn for more info and clout. Just like a fandom Gollum. We didn’t realise that stuff we shared was being traded so it could be added to in order to feed her need to feel near him and grow her influence here. You’ve been part of supporting that behaviour too. When Ms Peacock asked you to find out where Pedro was one day, you went straight to the airline staff and lied about possibly being on the flight in an attempt to get the flight details. You ran right back and gave her what you had. I hope you realise we’ve all been played. Some of us learned our lesson and tried to be better but you stayed with her and you guys took it to another level. When you ran out of info, you created a stalker reddit where you share info you gather through lies and deceit with some real psychos in the fandom. I hadn't realised what I fed into until I saw the levels you guys cranked it up to. Now I see what a bit of info in the wrong hands can snowball into. I have a lot of regret about that. (I also have receipts)

Do you regret being part of that? Have you even stopped tracking him?

7. CHASING CLOUT

Some of us did some of the stuff you continue to do but we woke up and realised this shit isn't a game. YOU and your shitty friends levelled up and are fucking with ppls lives. You treat him like shit for clout and not because you want him to be a successful human being. You need to grow up and admit that to yourself. Impossible though right?! Coz then you might lose clout. That is why you're here right?!

If it's not, then why?

TO CREATE COMMUNITY?

I've seen screenshots of your IG posts and what type of community you're cultivating in your comments. Ppl who shit on Pedro's career, his sexuality, his physical appearance, and you've collected a fine assortment of fandom psychos all sharing your posts. You feed them with likes even when their comments are hate filled. Ppl have noticed.

TO STALK PEDROS FRIENDS?

You've posted about contacting Pedro's friends through social media. Going so far as to add trackers to your Tumblr and watch their online status on Instagram. (I’ve got receipts)

TO INTERFERE PEDROS FRIENDS?

You’ve admitted reaching out to Pedro’s old friends. They’re said they’ve unknowingly given information to stalkers they've had to add extra layers of security to their social media. They aren’t there to be used as “sources” during playtime. (I’ve got receipts)

TO STALK PEDRO?

You guys contact his friends, hotel and airline staff for more info on his whereabouts. (I’ve got receipts) If that's not stalking then what do you call it?

TO SUPPORT PEDRO?

Pedro is the punchline of your account. You encourage ppl to drag him by liking their hate filled comments. What’s that about? It would be cute if you weren’t also stalking him but publicly negging the fuck out of you’re victim is a bit tasteless, no?

8. OBSESSED

You say I'm "obsessed" with you and you've "done nothing to my friends"? No, try, a lot of other ppl in the fandom and I are sick of your holier than thou act when we’ve seen you abuse and attack ppl competing accounts who did nothing to you. You can't fuck up ppls lives and expect to skip off into the sunset. You do shitty things, refuse to acknowledge them and continue to be the best example of what's wrong with this fandom and why it has the reputation it does.

9. WHY DO I "COME FOR YOU"?

I challenge you because you came at others first and like magic, shit hit the fan for them.

Early on you were copying Aude’s style of posting. It's undeniable that your posts were very similar. No one really cared but ppl talked about it in forums and someone sent an anon to @pedrohub who decided to post it for some reason🤔. You decided to attack her in a reblog and accuse her "friends" of sending poorly spelled hate. Then you gaslight her all because she had....stopped liking your posts as much as before. Like wtf?

Then you blamed Arte for hateful anons you were getting. You said it was her because she had blocked you. You said it was definitely she because she's from Ohio (btw Arte doesn’t talk about being from Ohio so how did you know that?), ignoring the fact another fan is from Ohio and is well known in the fandom to send vicious hateful anons (let's call her Wendys License-Plates Girl). You didn't like Artes reason for disliking you and your account. She blocked you so she just didn’t have to see you. She had never said anything bad about you at that point. You produced screenshots of conversations which were had after you accused her but you ran with them as your "evidence" that she had it out for you in dms and was directing a campaign of hate against you. When nothing came of that, you then blamed her for getting you blocked by Sebastiano Mauri because you.....liked her dog pic? Again wtf. There's a trend brewing here.

You created these monsters in your head and you took your anger out on unsuspecting fan accounts. Meanwhile, you were posting shit ppl just weren't feeling and stalking SM in dms. You were tracking him and baiting him to speak to you so you could see his activity tracker in IG. I was the one who got you blocked for your fucking stalker bullshit coz you bragged about it.

You blamed Arte and Aude for bullshit you made up in your paranoid mind. You were told they were innocent by the person you suspectdd of ratting you out but you chose to doggedly go after both of THEM AND NOT ME. Talking shit in dms with whoever would listen. Spinning your usual holier than thou victim routine.

Now, let’s see….

Who has magically lost their account – pascalisfrenchpunk

Who has magically received a death threat – artedepascal (also runs mh_creatives on IG)

Who was bore witness to your bullshit, Known to be friends with Aude and Arte, Known to have connections to get info to Pedro?

Me.

Why didn’t you ever target me since you had vague posted about me being a rat? You knew I got kicked out of the stalker reddit once the Fleetwoods-rumours blog got published for the guys to read.

But...

I don't use IG so I guess you didn't see me as a threat to your clout chasing on there. You only went for ppl with competing IG accounts because all you want is to be noticed by Pedro and to be the Queen Clout Chaser of the fandom.

NO ONE WAS RUNNING A CAMPAIGN OF HATE BUT I SURE WAS COLLECTING A COLLAGE OF YOUR BULLSHIT TO HELP YOUR VICTIMS.

If you have missed who the fans are that are giving this fandom a reputation for being psychos, please see the Story Time series (so far) below✌️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #storytime #ms peacock #ms green #col mustard #thesweetestdecline #stainsofpascal #themandadlorianbod #a7estrellas #stalker reddit #pascalisfrenchpunk #artedepascal #reddit #story time #pedro pascal stalker #deuxmoi #pedro pascal deuxmoi

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recurring-polynya · 4 months

Text

Writing/Art Update 1.9.2024

Bleh. I was holding off doing this update, hoping I was going to be able to report that I had finished That Stupid Scene that I have been working on since before Christmas. I had so many thoughts in my head while I was cooking dinner and then, when I actually sat down to write, they had departed. Maybe they'll be back tomorrow.

In any case, I did make a huge amount of progress this week. It was hard! I had a lot of writing time, which was nice, except that I spent a lot of it staring out the window or clicking on my other browser tabs, which is always very irritating. However, I did manage to get most of it written, and it hit all the bullet points I needed it to. I basically just have to wrap it up and transition into what happens next. It shouldn't actually be that hard, I'm just tired and I'm not sure I can swing it right now. It's a big scene, too-- I clocked 4,375 words on it this week in addition to the 900 I already had, so it's probably going to be about half the chapter.

I've had a feeling for quite some time that I had not actually budgeted enough space in the outline for the back half of this fanfic. The thing is, though, it is nearly always the case that an extra chapter manages to sneak in somewhere along the way. I decided to just leave the outline as it was, and that way, if an extra chapter appeared, then my pacing problem would sort itself. That...may be happening. I am not entirely sure. I'm in sort of a weird place where I simultaneously feel like I am very close to done and also very, very far away from being done. Hopefully, in the next week or two (that is, when I finish Ch 7), that will sort itself out. Either that, or I'll just keep writing chapters, like Zeno's fanfic. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen. I will die.

Ugh, I want to post. I am wallowing in the pit of it's been so long since I posted, I feel like I have literally stopped existing, and I keep getting dumb urges to "just take a little break and write a short one" (note that I do not actually have any ideas towards "a short one", it's 100% urges only). Anyway, I definitely do not want to do that, because I want to finish this one very, very badly, and it's taking long enough as is. What I should probably do is polish up Chs 5 and 6 and send them to the beta, but that would require coming up with a name for the art museum that I placeholdered a bunch of times in Ch 5. I actually named it in Ch 1 and then decided I didn't like it and needed to rename and I just haven't yet.

Speaking of names, I've also fallen into It-Needs-a-Title Madness, where I start to go Actual Nuts because I can't think of a title for this stupid fanfic. I forgot that in addition to staring out the window, I spent a lot of time looking through the lyrics of songs on my Ductwork playlist and googling for, like, "phrases with injury" in them. I hate this. It's such a waste of time and yet I do this every time. Why can't you pay someone $10 to name your fanfic for you? Can I just call it "Ductwork"? Does it even matter? (it does matter. I regret every terrible title I have ever slapped on a fanfic in a fit of "Fuck It, We Post")

In other news, I drew all seven days last week (the theme was fruits and vegetables). I took yesterday off, but then I drew a can of soup today, which was hard. It's cool. The people in art club are very nice. I am really hoping to draw a Rukia for her birthday. I have never drawn a bankai Rukia, and I'd like to give it a shot. I bet it would be a lot easier if I could resist doing a full body shot, but somehow, I always do a full body shot. We'll see!!

#writing update #art update

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brandnewhuman · 2 years

Note

The lack of fics where the reader leaves Michael is so annoying. ☹️ I also want him to suffer! And the fics that we do have is : Reader leaving Michael but Michael finds them and kills/kidnaps them. I don’t want that, I want him to go crazy and regret treating his s/o like shit. Like, why can’t we have a happy ending for once?? Don’t get me wrong, fics with Michael killing/ kidnapping his s/o are so good, but I just need one fic where the reader successfully leaves Michael and lives a new and better life while Michael is heartbroken. Some of the fics make me feel so unsatisfied. I just feel like Michael should suffer more, that’s all. I love him but I feel like he’d be such a bastard.

The shape effect

☆STARRING☆

☆Michael Myers☆

CONTENT:

Tw: canon violence, Michael myers being michael, mentions of murder, toxic relationship, angst, description of panic attack

A/N: you have honestly brought this upon yourself IM NOT SORRY. YOU ASKED IT I SHALL DELIVER. Not as good as I wanted it to be but at least it's something. I know it wasn't really a request but Im a people pleaser, what can i say. Enjoy it babe

If you think hard about how everything started to feel so wrong and painful you couldn't pinpoint an exact moment you were sure started this brutal downfall. What draws you to the conclusion that what's happening it's just the consequence of your blind stupidity.

I mean, one has to be pretty stupid to let evil himself live in your house. And if you told anyone they would all tell you that you're a fool for believing this thing could actually work. And they will be right in saying this because almost everyone who ends up in Michael's path dies, why should they think he could be capable of anything other than harm.

But you couldn't find it in yourself to see him as evil as everyone thought of him, even if it meant living in your delusional bubble. Because everytime you look at him you can only see good memories, maybe not real but good nonetheless. You honestly are starting to have a blur in your mind between what it is really like you see it and what's not.

You see what feels like a lifetime worth of memories and things that had made Michael look ten times more human in your eyes. You see his pain and the things he has been through too and that's the part that is making this so hard, cause you know that once it's done you'll be part of the people who have given up on him.

But you have to do it, cause otherwise you'll end up hating him like everyone else does.

You had to go, you had to get away as far as possible for him. You feel just…so tired of fighting and crying, of feeling the most alone you have ever been when you're with the person who's supposed to be the love of your life. The more you'll stay the more you realise that most of the things that make you happy about Michael come from your mind and your need to feel he somehow cares, you have to leave before the realisation eats at everything nice your mind has created. Even if you're aware he's the one who makes you feel miserable, you prefer to be the bad guy in your head instead of him, instead of having to see that you have wasted all this time chasing a fantasy. Those excuses of happy memories were all you had, all the "nice" moments were the only thing you didn't want to give up.

You could live with him not caring anymore or not caring enough but you couldn't just accept he didn't care at all. There was nothing more you wanted from Michael than a sign of him loving you if not as much at least a little bit, you have given him all the chances to show it and he just couldn't.

That's the worst part, you couldn't even be mad at him and keep fighting and screaming while crying about how much he was hurting you cause he couldn't do anything about it. You were the one who fell in love, you were the one who let themselves be overwhelmed by an unrequited love.

Maybe there was a time where he could've changed, where there was still some of the Michael you wished to have but you had to accept that you were simply too late. You have come into his life too late, what you see it's just all that remains of the person he was before. He's a conglomerate of too many mistakes, too many "too late" and countless days of being told what he is.

Your love was simply not enough anymore or maybe it has never been and you couldn't keep living like you being the one in love for the both of you, could make anything better.

Maybe your mind was telling you to do it for the wrong reasons, but it was screaming at you to just leave before your love for him ends up withering your whole being.

You planned everything so thoughtfully not even Michael himself would be able to find you. If it was someone else you wouldn't make all this effort to leave but Michael was different from anyone else. He could always seem to tell when someone was trying to trick him or do something, he always knew everything about everyone. If you want to leave and he doesn't then you're most certainly never going to leave. That's why you had to make sure everything was right. You just hoped that by the time he finds out you're far enough,reassuring yourself that even if it's not the case he surely won't be upset for too long. You just wanted to stop feeling like you're not enough and free him from having to pretend he cares while simultaneously staying alive. Is it so bad to want for yourself someone less rough? More kind? Someone who didn't need to be "fixed" or teaches basic human emotions while keeping yourself from becoming like him too?

For Michael It will. When he'll come home the first thing he looks out for is you, not to ask you to do something for him or anything but just because you're the first person he has to wait for him and the first he can come back to when he feels alone. When he'll see you're not around he might not think much about it at first, maybe you just went to buy something or you're having a longer shift at work. There's a little whisper inside him, though, telling that something doesn't feel quite right as he heads to the kitchen and sits at the table to wait for you.

In case you were wondering, he waited much longer than anyone could ever wait, after all he's a very resilient person. He would always wait for you even if he had to wait two eternities.

Now he's not stupid, deep down he knows that you're not going back since he hasn't tried to go out looking foe you. He just feels that maybe if he waits enough you'll somehow know and you'll be back.

That's the half of him that still thinks like the 6 years old Michael, the one that waited entire years for his family to come back and for the people around him to really help him. And there's the other half that isn't surprised anymore, that was actually wondering how much longer you would stay.

He is so scared of even moving or breathing to deeply cause to him if he stays still enough he can't pretend that this is not happening

How tragic it is to know perfectly well how bad you are in someone but not being capable of letting go. He once thought the only thing able to torment him was the bottomless pit of darkness inside him demanding more and more violence and consuming literally everything inside him but he was wrong. It wasn't until he met you and he learned how it feels to care for someone, that he knew what was real torture. Being trapped in a body and a mind that are broken, that would never function the way you like and will never give the one you love what they need. No matter the effort, his touch will never be gentle or kind, his emotions will never work the way they should, his voice will never come out to say anything, much less something nice. You were all he had, you were the only one who took care of him and loved him as if he was a real human being worthy of such attention. Loomis had mentioned it from time to time, how his energy and overall him as a whole consumed and ate away other people's vital energy.He used to compare it to a some sort of cancer, when you find out what it is and what is doing is always too late.

The thing is, he is trapped with himself as much as everyone else is. He doesn't get a way out, he doesn't get to justify himself and certainly doesn't get to be understood. You did that though, you made him feel understood and loved and heard, you made him feel like he wasn't entirely wrong at being angry at the world.

You have been very smart at leaving before he could stop you cause knowing himself he wouldn't have allowed that. He finds himself aware of the fact that he wouldn't have cared about your happiness if that meant he got to keep you by his side. But deep down he didn't want to be a cancer for you too, he knows you're right about leaving. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean that a hot stream of tears can't be running down his cheeks inside the mask and falling onto his hands making him realise his crying. He has cried very few times and never this much. This feeling inside him..he just can't stand it. It's getting more and more overwhelming as the hours pass by and in his chest there's an oppressive feeling of not getting enough air. His head is spinning so fast he falls from the chair gripping his chest as if that was going to stop the brutal pounding of his heart inside trying to get out of his mouth. His always steady hands are now shaking as he takes off the mask for the first time in years, he wasn't even sure there was a face under that mask anymore, he doesn't even know how or when he had become more the boogeyman and less michael. He actively feels like he is dying, and he has suffered countless near death experiences so he should know how dying feels. It's like everything that has happened has come down on him only now and it's trying to tear him apart from inside. He waits and waits for the moment in which his lungs stop gasping for air and his heart stops fighting to keep the heartbeats going, but it never comes. He's stuck in that almost dying over and over again.

The thought of how happy you would be to finally see his face crosses his mind and for you he would be faceless for life, he would let anyone see right through what scares him the most just to have an opportunity to make you come back, to keep you near.

But he can't, like some stupid romantic story cliché he wants to change when it's too late.

He holds his head between his hands and tries so hard to stop the loudness inside his mind, he feels so dizzy he could throw up. He can't take it anymore, the shape himself feels defeated and it's now even praying for god to make it stop. He tries so hard to just push everything away but it's like he can feel himself getting sicker and sicker, like the pain is spreading inside him just to rip apart his body to get out.

He just doesn't know how to make it right and how to tell you, he just doesn't know and now you're gone because of it. It's like every mile you get away from him he feels it in pain.

As days pass by it doesn't get any better, if anything it gets worse. He has thought about stopping going back to your house and just getting away from anything that reminds him of you but everytime he takes a step towards the opposite direction his mind flashes him with images of you coming back and not finding him. He knows it won't happen but knowing it doesn't mean accepting it.

He keeps lying on your side of the bed, trying to imagine hard enough that you're there. Keep caressing your clothes but not too much so he can save your scent for a little bit longer. He holds onto everything and anything that can make him feel close to you, even if it's painful he needs it. He needs to at least know you were there once, that you really existed before disappearing.

The void you have left behind it's eating him alive and the ones paying for it are his victims. He has searched for you, has tried everything but in the end you seemed to have outsmarted him because he had to give up.

For any other person, this type of pain would certainly end up fading and just become a distant memory of a nasty break up but for Michael? He can't forget.

His body and his mind, his essence if you will, latches onto every little thing that makes him feel alive. He will live with the pain of not having you near for the rest of his life.

#slasher fandom #slashers #slasher community #slasher fanfiction #horror movies #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #michael myers #slasher imagines #slasher #og michael myers #peepaw michael myers #rz michael myers #peepaw myers #halloween #michael myers x reader

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jove999 · 5 months

Text

Ok, I know you're probably reading this because I know your pattern. I'm saying this so I don't wanna keep thinking about this matter anymore, so It will be my last time to say anything about this. cause I know it's quite pointless to ever argue with you again.

If I Ever find out you talking about me or spreading weird rumors about me, I'm going to release your blog address, release all the conversations I screen-capped, and your ridiculous ao3 fic, (Yes, this person wrote a fic about what happened between me and them), your racist remark about me, how you described me as a predatory person, while that was all because of my clumsy English skill (and I think you knew the reason why I said in that way too while writing all that, cause I'm you know, 'stupid Asian', right) You were too much of a bully to me too for a person who worried about being getting bullied.

You accused me of being a rude artist trying to rob you of money, when in fact, you were the one who asked me for free art first. You made me seen as a predatory person in your fic, which was already released 3 days ago when I first found out, had 23 views, and you made sure anyone can guess who this artist was. (f/f shipper getting lots of likes, Asian, Remember?) So Why would I ever consider making an apology to you after this, for exposing your ID on my post, which had 15 notes, and I deleted from my blog in a matter of 5 hours? (And if I remember correctly, you did the exact same too before me, right?)

sigh. You're making me so tired.

Ok. You were telling me to say sorry

When I deleted the post that exposed your ID, and later when I read your apologies, What I regretted the most was my action was out of pure anger and spite. Because you were seen as a weird stranger, and when I, as an artist, and a wlw, got asked for free art, from a stranger who ships f/m ship...... ought to get angry. If I knew you were, you know, you, I would have just ignored it. But I didn't. sigh.

and When I read that you were autistic from your apologies, I deleted the post from my blog. I can understand the complicate situation autistic people are going through, So I deleted it. and I'm sorry for acting like this to you out of spite. At the moment, I really didn't give a shit if you're getting bad messages, because I didn't know you like that. I want to be a person who can acknowledge their wrongs, and I don't mind a aftermath that follows too. I'm sorry.

But I'm not gonna say sorry to you for saying you should pay first if you wanna have something you want. I think you're old enough to understand why I'm saying this. I hope you learn something from what I said at least.

And now, the thing is, I don't even wanna hear sorry from you anymore. from all the shit you did to me. and probably you don't wanna say sorry too, now I know you better.. I don't care. Like I said, don't say shit about me after this. If you wanna forget about this, then do it. I don't wanna waste my energy anymore too, unless you wanna start a fight again. Don't send a private message after this. If you send a message again, I'll release everything. Bro, I can be real petty.

That's it. Don't care If you block me. I said everything I wanted to say. I'm sorry. I'm sincere about this. Don't ever come to my blog, I'm sincere about this too. bye

(and I'm writing this again for your consideration, Don't send a private message after this)

#personal

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takeachillpillshawty · 1 year

Text

Help, I can't stop thinking about this Twisted Wonderland AU.....

Ok, hear me out.....every thing is the same.....Kinda.....but the Vice wardens ( plus Kalim ) Over bolt.....

Trey's family bakery gets a bad reputation from Riddle's mom....he's still Riddle's best friend, but deep down he held a grudge against Riddle's family from that day......

Events leading up to the duel between Ace, Deuce and Riddle.

Trey slowly gets overbolt

Slowly regretting his friendship between him and Riddle...

Watching Riddle waste one of his best pastries because of some stupid rule....

Having to see his parents business suffer......and having no power to help....

Hate having to hold his tongue when Riddle harshly punish a student.....

Him have to apologize on Riddle's behalf.....

Having to hold all that in......because his action will reflect on him as a person.....and his position as a dorm leader.

On the day of the Duel, Riddle was being a tyrant as usual......

But when the duel gets intense, him and Cater try to calm him down...... But Riddle never listens as always.....

Off with your head was gonna hit Ace, Deuce, MC, Grim..... That's when Trey cancel it out with his own magic...... Everyone in heartslaybul was stunned by Trey's action. Even Riddle was shocked..... But before Riddle could say anything

Trey loses it.

He tells Riddle off, he vents about all the things that happened to him caused by Riddle's action......that's when he overbolted....

I think Trey's overbolt form would resemble something similar to the Mad Hatter from Alice in wonderland.......from the Disney animated movie of course.....

After the overbolt, it takes time for him and Riddle to become friends again...... He understands that it wasn't Riddle's fault that his family bakery gets a bad reputation.

Riddle tries to be less strict with the rule for everyone's sake....

Similar thing with Ruggie. Gets fed up with Leona and overbolt, but it's different.

Leona makes Ruggie do his dirty work, he doesn't mind because..... Him and Leona are friends..... Right?

He doesn't understand...... Why is Leona not satisfied? He's a prince! Sure not a king but royalty non the less! While he has to play nice and hope for some scraps to be thrown....

Leona has EVERYTHING! he has NOTHING..... SO WHY?! WHY IS HE SO UNGRATEFUL?! PEOPLE LIKE HIM WOULD SEE THIS AS A MIRACLE TO BE PRINCE!

WHY DOES A PERSON LIKE LEONA HAVE THAT LIFE?! IT'S NOT FAIR!

LEONA DOESN'T HAVE TO SEE HIS FAMILY SUFFER! AND LOOKS FOR SCRAPS! HIS GRANDMA HAS TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THEY'RE GONNA EAT TOMORROW! NOT LEONA!

Ok I'm not gonna sugar coat it......Ruggie was gonna basically pull a Jamil move on Leona......

Try to ruin Leona's reputation by pinning the stair tripping incident on Leona.....well, I mean that kinda did happened.... But nevermind that!

gets confronted by everyone, lies through his teeth.....

That's when Leona calls Ruggie out.....and in a short story, said that Ruggie is a no good thief, that only befriend Leona for his status and wealth....

This was Ruggie 's breaking point........after all of this?........no matter what he does............ He'll always be seen as a no good thief in the eyes of other.....

Ruggie's mind went blank....... And he overbolts....the only noise that came from him was that Hyena like laughter....

Ruggie's overbolt would be inspired my the three Hyenas from the Lion king......his clothes are ragged and has bone like accessories on him.....

After the overbolt he tries to talk things out with Leona.....it will take some time for Leona to trust Ruggie again....... He understands why Ruggie did the things he did........he still cares for Ruggie..... But needs time....

( Sorry Jade lovers.....I don't know what could make this man overbolt....... Ummmmm.....ok........I got it........Azul gets tired of Jade's mushroom and throws them out.....Jade overbolts and Floyd beat the shit out of him......everyone is ok! The end)

Now.....the moment Kalim fans have been waiting for.....

How Kalim could have overbolt........

Now, as you see from the voice line that talked about him not being fazed about anything scary because of the amount of kidnapping..... Got me thinking.....

Jamil still used snake whispers on Kalim making him do some weird things........ And instead of manipulating just the dorm members, he manipulates Kalim too.....

Saying that someone here is using some kind of magic on him to make him act out of character.....An Assassin is in NRC......Kalim is fucking terrified, he thought that since he has Jamil with him and he's at a new school.....he would be safe..... No......no he wouldn't.......That's when the bolt starts....

And Kalim buys it......he slowly stressed out on who it could be.... He doesn't show it but becomes more suspicious of other students..... He sticks more to Jamil, he's the only person he can trust..........

Jamil slowly uses that paranoia and stress against Kalim, Making him lose trust in people...... When he met MC and Grim the lil sunshine was happy he can hang out with someone

And not worry about being assassinated.....That's until Jamil brought up the Idea that MC and Grim could be the assassins.....

Kalim didn't want to believe it........but he has witnessed lengths the kidnappers and Assassins would go just to get him.....so he commands dorm students to keep MC and Grim prisoners until the time being....The bolt continues....

When MC and Grim escaped from Scarabia and and came back with the Octotrio..... His opinion of the two changed........they're with students from NRC! They can't be Assassins! They're friends!....... Right.....

And for the passed several days.....nothing weird happened to Kalim! He was back to his old self!

That's what he thought when he suddenly found himself on the edge of the of the dorm lounge...... Almost falling to his death..... Jamil shout out his name to snap him out of it........The bolt is near its breaking point.

Kalim went running to Jamil..... Holding him tightly...... Crying.......he....he can't take it anymore! W..what if the next time he's like that.....he...he could.......

Kalim didn't want to think of that.....

And the Octotrio new what was up........and in the end caught Jamil in the act, with everyone witnessing his true colors.........even Kalim ...........

Kalim...... Was Furious, Betrayed, Relieved......so many emotions.......he can't believe it.......he trusted Jamil........ He could have killed him..........his own best friend........ Manipulated him......betrayed his trust......

The bolt is now over flowing......Kalim has overbolted

Kalim 's overbolt would most likely take inspiration from the Sultan from Aladdin......

After the overbolt, Kalim apologies to everyone....... But.....his friendship with Jamil is now rocky......... Like Leona....it will take him time to trust people again.........

( sorry for not writing for so long.......I'll do one with Rook and Ortho when I finish book 5 and 6..... And I'll even updated Jade's one if I could, happy 2023! )

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #floyd leech #kalim al asim #heartslabyul #deuce spade #scaramouche #twisted wonderland shitpost #twisted wonderland grim

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dominimoonbeam · 2 years

Text

Scars That Remind - 10

This AU has covered ground! We’re finally getting into some Sam/Darlin.

Posted here but also over on ao3.

tags: Quinn aftermath, Darlin has issues, Sam wants revenge, angst, self-loathing, the usual Darlin tags but otherwise pretty damn soft for me and this fic.

Scars That Remind - Chapter 10

Darlin should not have enjoyed their night as much as they had.

Their body ached, they’d almost died, and they’d been kidnapped which would have been humiliating if they’d still been tied up when the pack arrived.

But they’d met their stalker and all he wanted was a chance at Quinn. Who didn’t want that?

Darlin didn’t hate the idea of someone else dealing with that particular problem so that maybe they wouldn’t have to. More importantly, so that their pack wouldn’t end up doing it for them.

Maybe it was that blood loss talking, but Darlin sort of wished Quinn would come back sooner rather than later so they could all just finish this mess. There was no predicting when he would return and if they dropped their guard, there was a real chance of him killing them next time. And then what? What would happen to David? He would hurt so much. He would feel responsible. And what if Quinn didn’t go straight for them next time? What if he attacked the pack?

Darlin started with a thought—a horrible, stupid, thought.

Quinn had friends in town. Not friends that knew where he was, but friends he checked in with to keep tabs on the city.

What if those friends saw Darlin palling around with another vampire?

Was Quinn the jealous sort? Fuck yes, he was.

They’d never tested it, but they were sure of it.

Asher slept on their couch that night. He pretended he was too tired to go home and needed to crash for a bit, but they knew he was doing the pack thing. He was protecting, because Darlin had lost blood tonight—had been healed and was a little bit wasted on the magic. They knew as soon as their head hit the pillow, they’d be out cold. So someone would be there just in case. They never left their own vulnerable. Despite how much Darlin hated being fussed over or protected, they also hated feeling vulnerable so they mumbled a goodnight, flipped off Asher, and went to bed.

He waved from the couch and turned on the TV.

When Darlin woke the next afternoon, the very stupid but possibly brilliant idea was still rattling around their head. They were sure it would work. They just weren’t sure someone like Sammy would go for it.

They picked up their phone but hesitated to send him a text. How were they going to pitch it? They considered doing it in person so there wouldn’t be a paper trail but they winced at the idea of having to see his face when he digested the idea.

-How badly do you want Quinn? They tapped into their phone and sent it. He wouldn’t be awake yet anyway.

Darlin got out of bed and got dressed. They were only somewhat surprised to find David in the living room instead of Asher. They must have traded off in the night. Or in the day. Hard for Darlin to know.

David flicked his gaze over them, gauging their walk to decide if they were injured in some way he couldn’t see. “Ash said you were shot…Said you would have died if it weren’t for that vampire.”

Darlin bit back a smirk and went straight for the kitchen. He’d made coffee even though it was almost four in the afternoon. Bless that idiot. Darlin filled a mug. “Yep. My friend. Sammy.” They rolled the name.

David was up and walking toward them. He wasn’t buying the friend thing at all. “He’s a Solaire.”

“Mmhm.” Darlin drank and sighed happily. Fuck they were hungry. They pulled a box of rainbow colored cereal from the cupboard and ignored the way David frowned at it.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Around.”

“Darlin…”

“What’s the problem? He saved my life, right?”

David scowled but there was something else there too now, hurt? Fear?

Darlin winced in regret and clawed at their hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a scene or anything.”

David stepped up to them and hugged him.

They almost dropped the box of cereal. It wasn’t that he didn’t hug them. In fact, he often ruffled their hair or put an arm around them. It just always still came as a surprise. Nice contact, with no ulterior motives or strings attached. Just affection. He had been worried. Darlin sighed, closing their eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He sighed, mussing up their hair before letting them go. “Who the fuck brings a gun to a wolf fight?”

Darlin groaned, thumping down the cereal. “Right? What a dumbass!”

Sam woke just after sundown.

It had been a long morning confessing everything to William. For his part, of course, William had been understanding and forgiving to all of Sam’s missteps. He seemed honestly relieved that Sam had helped to find the shifter and even saved them. It was then that his focus turned to worrying for Sam. He called for a blood bag from his own stash.

When the telling was done, William thought for a few more moments in silence before nodding and declaring there to be no problems he could see. He was grateful that Sam filled him in.

Sam had been surprised what a relief it was just to tell someone—to not feel like he was doing something behind the king’s back.

The sun was well and truly up by the time he slunk into a guest room in the big house and fell asleep.

When he woke, he had a text message. Darlin. He grabbed the phone and stared at it.

He tried to think how to answer. What did it mean?

-Do you have an idea?

-A bad idea.

He smirked to himself. -Never doubted that. Want to meet up?

The dots rolled and then stopped. Rolled and then stopped. Were they having cold feet about seeing him? Trying to pick someplace safe but still private enough for what was basically plotting?

-He has friends in town that keep tabs on goings on for him. They wouldn’t know where he was but they relay info to him.

Sam stared, considering that. Did Darlin think they could somehow send a message? He doubted Quinn would willingly show up to a duel.

-If we go to some clubs and pretend to have something going on, word might get back to him. He might come back sooner rather than later.

Sam read it and then read it again. Pretend to have something going on? He thought about their neck and all those scars. Everyone said that Quinn would come for Darlin. Everyone said Darlin belonged to Quinn, whether they always knew it or not.

Suddenly the dots were rolling again. -I can find another vamp and you can do the lurking if he shows up.

Sam frowned hard. He didn’t like that idea. He also doubted they could find another vampire stupid enough to tread on those marks. Although, considering how well Darlin had done at surprising him so far, maybe he shouldn’t doubt them. -We should meet somewhere and talk. Pick a place.

After another pause, Darlin sent the name of a bar and a time.

Sam rolled out of bed and got dressed, trying not to jump to any conclusions himself about what exactly the shifter meant by, pretend to have something going on.

He fed before he left and was quietly grateful no one thought to ask where he was going. He didn’t want to lie anymore but the truth would be tricky. Better to figure out what the shifter had in mind before mentioning it to the clan.

He parked his truck and walked a couple blocks to the dive they’d picked. It had windows painted black, low lighting and a throbbing beat in the floor. A lot of couches pushed off along the dark edges, to create private alcoves. It was the sort of place where empowered people looking to be bitten hung out. Sam had never been comfortable with these places, not since he’d died anyway. He’d gone when he was still alive, never against donating a little blood.

Darlin had not taken up a seat in one of those dark private corners, though. They were sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender and laughing at something they’d said. They looked comfortable but he knew instantly that it was manufactured. He had watched them long enough to know how they looked when they were truly at ease, when they were with pack or with those friends of theirs from school. This was false carelessness and a grin that flashed teeth. It was dangerous but oh so familiar to them. Had they been like this with Quinn? Had they hung out in this bar with Quinn? Probably.

Sam hated how strange it felt to walk up to them rather than lurking out of sight. He’d spent too long trailing them… stalking. He came up beside the shifter, touching the bar.

Darlin swiveled toward him, head cocked to the side and the light spilling down the side of their neck. He didn’t mean to let his gaze roam, his attention tracking over those delicate scars. There was one right behind their ear. Sam wondered if Darlin realized Quinn hadn’t just been biting. He’d been decorating.

The bartender brought them a couple more beers and then went down the bar to talk with someone else.

Sam sat down beside them, their knees bumping together when they twisted to face each other better. “So…This is the person who knows him?” he asked, gaze flicking toward the bartender.

Darlin laughed and took a drink of their beer. “I don’t know who gives him information when he’s out of town, but I know he gets it from someone. If I go to enough bars with another vampire, he’ll hear about it.”

“And you think he’ll come?” Sam asked to buy time to think. He didn’t doubt it, but he realized as soon as he asked the question, that Darlin began to doubt it.

Their shoulders dropped a little. “He might. I guess there’s no knowing, but it could be worth a try… Otherwise he could be back any minute or in a few years. He’s pretty good at showing up when you don’t expect him…”

Sam rolled his bottle in hand. Darlin wasn’t smiling anymore. They had almost been enjoying this idea when he walked in but somehow he’d ruined it. They were so much more fragile than anyone realized. “He’ll come.” He’d known it the moment they’d suggested it in text, even if he was stalling.

Darlin looked at him, surprised.

“When did you two first…start?” He didn’t know the details of their relationship, he realized. Not really.

Darlin shrugged. “The first time?” They squinted like it was hard to remember. “I think I was seventeen?” They huffed a laugh. “So, not that long, I guess. Seven years, maybe.”

Sam let go of the beer bottle to keep from breaking it. They’d been a kid when Quinn showed up in their life? His teeth grew and he looked away, like he gave a fuck about the décor of this bar. “How often does he come back?”

“Longest was a couple years. Shortest was just a few months.”

And he always came back to Darlin.

“And you’re okay with tricking him? With…” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to say what he planned to do. He wasn’t really sure how it was going to turn out yet, himself. Would he stop him and give him to the Department? Or was he hoping it would end worse than that?

Darlin laughed but it was humorless. “I don’t owe him anything, Sammy. I’m not loyal to him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He looked at the shifter, not missing the offense in their voice.

They took another drink and this time he noticed their knuckles. They were red and purple, one of them even looked out of place. Was it broken? He leaned closer and Darlin tensed. “Your hand,” he explained.

Darlin looked down at it like they hadn’t seen it until just then. With a shrug they put their beer down. “So. I can find another vampire to mess around with and you can go back to lurking until he shows up.”

Mess around with. Sam winced.

Darlin leaned back. “Yeah well, I’m sorry it doesn’t stand up to your stalking sensibilities, Solaire…”

He jerked a little in surprise. Shit. They thought he was judging them for the idea? “May I?” he asked, gesturing to their hand.

Darlin shrugged and looked away.

Sam carefully picked up their hand, their eyes snapping back to him in some strange surprise. He gently thumbed the back of their hand. “It’s a good idea.” He poured a little magic into their skin and those delicate bones, setting things right and cleaning away the bruising. “You don’t need to find anyone else. I just… I don’t want to use you, is all.”

Darlin stared at the strange vampire holding their hand. He didn’t want to use them? They almost laughed. He’d been stalking them. Maybe what he really meant was that he didn’t want to feel like he was using them. That was reasonable. Lots of people didn’t like to feel like they were doing bad things. Usually not vampires though… “I’m not exactly a delicate flower or anything, Sammy.” He was still holding their hand and they felt heat rising up their neck to their cheeks.

His gaze flicked to their neck again, like he could sense it. Maybe he could. He was still frowning though, silver eyes full of some deep inner turmoil.

“Jesus. How about we talk it through first? Set some rules and shit?” Darlin grinned, because they felt like they were in control when they were grinning at danger. And this man, even if he acted like he was full of moral conflict, was dangerous. “I can pick out a safe word.”

He let go of their hand with a sputter, swearing under his breath.

Darlin rolled off their barstool, leaving their beer behind. The goal had been to get seen with Sam, and they had definitely been seen. He’d even taken their hand and healed it. “Walk with me?” Darlin suggested. If they were really going to talk game plans and rules, they should do it elsewhere.

Sam nodded and followed them out of the building, onto the street. When they were closer to the river and farther from the denser parts of town, he asked, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Darlin bit the inside of their lip to keep from showing any nerves. They kept their shoulders back and their expression clear, like none of this really mattered. It was business. It was a plan to trick a monster. “We go to some clubs, different one every night so we have better odds of whoever he talks to seeing us.”

Sam nodded again, hands in his pockets. God, he looked like the cowboy he sounded like, just without the hat.

Darlin stopped by the river, looking down at the dark water. They forced themselves to turn around and face Sam, leaning back against the railing. “We drink, we dance, we make out, and if you think you can stomach it, you bite me.” Their chest felt tight when they said it, surprising them but they wouldn’t show it. Was it fear that he felt that way? That they were just as tainted and disgusting as they knew they were? As Quinn said? Or was it just the idea of letting someone put teeth in them? When was the last time they’d willingly let Quinn bite them?

Sam stared at them, giving nothing away this time. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he thought of the plan and the details and biting Darlin, he wasn’t showing any of it.

Darlin’s heart beat faster, waiting for his response, refusing to look away.

Finally, he ducked his head, breaking eye contact first, but then he was smirking. Smirking! He took a step closer, hands sliding out of his pockets. He stood right in front of them, barely any space left between them. When he met their gaze again, he was barely pressing down the smile. “You want to date me, Darlin?”

The way he rolled their name in his accent almost made them shiver. They nearly shoved him to get space, to feel like they were in control again. But this was the plan, wasn’t it? To be close? “Sure, Sammy. You and me, until that asshole comes home and we can finish this.”

He considered that, watching them so carefully. Darlin was suddenly thinking they were the one in over their head. He looked at them like he saw things…things they couldn’t imagine were there. He nodded and touched the railing on either side of them, boxing them in. The river sounded suddenly louder behind them. He leaned in closer.

Darlin’s heart pounded against their ribs and they couldn’t stop their gaze from flicking to his mouth, looking for fangs but only finding soft lips.

“Deal. We’re dating. We’ll bring him running back. I just need you to do one thing for me first…”

Darlin almost didn’t meet his gaze, suddenly afraid this fucker was trancing them because they felt like they might do whatever he wanted right now. But they weren’t tranced. They knew exactly how tired and drained they had to be before a trance could take hold without their consent. They looked back at those silvers and wondered why they looked soft in his eyes and cold in Quinn’s. “What?”

Sam smiled. “Tell me your safe word and promise to use it if things go too far.”

#the beginnings of a beautiful FAKE relationship!#sam/darlin #the chemistry of these two always blows me away #darlin has issues!#sam has issues!#everyone has issues!#and david definitely has issues because these two are going to give him a fucking heart attack #scars that remind #dominimoonbeam #<3 #fanfic #redacted asmr #redactedverse

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