#if you are not like her as she is and have to change her so much then you two are not the same. really fuckin simple dawg.

[weirdmageddon]

i was thinking about this since i posted earlier about us needing to address the trend of gen z men being pulled into alt-right pipelines might have contributed to the outcome of this election.

i think contrapoints is really smart, and from what i’ve seen, has been way more effective at getting people out of harmful ideological pipelines than i’ve seen from the majority of leftists online who instead berate and drive a greater wedge of antipathy (though i understand why! and it can be very hard to have empathy for the people who see you as a threat). that antipathy makes the right more radicalized because they don’t feel like they can talk about anything without the “crazy lefties” who won’t even engage with them. where did these issues come from?

what i’ve noticed, and i’m even guilty of this, is that people don’t interact with groups of people whom they refuse talk to, which makes realities more hypothetical in the minds of their opponent since they aren’t open to seeing reality from their perspective. this is true on both sides. from what i’ve observed, it seems to originate from hypothetical perception of the opponent, but when people treat those perceptions as though they are real, it becomes real with their actions, which then makes the antipathy justified to someone. again, on both sides.

what makes contrapoints so successful at breaking this down is that is that she creates these socratic dialogue skits that represent real people and ideologies, has a sense of humor, isn’t afraid to discuss these things, reframes how we see these things by introducing nuance to both sides. she’s a leftist, but she also knows how to engage without ripening division, of meeting someone halfway and being completely humble about it. she is able to soften extremes.

she is able to get into the mind of people who aren’t aligned with her views, understand the nuance and rationales from a realistic perspective, breaking down a big block of “this is all bad” into “ok, some of this makes sense…”, what this does is create a space for self-reflection that doesn’t feel ham-fisted (which could otherwise cause people to double down on their beliefs instead of opening up to other perspectives outside of their bubble). while also being entertaining and well-produced on top of it.

what she is doing is creating these scenarios and socratic discussions that SHOULD be happening in real life but aren’t in this polarized social climate.

i graduated from new college of florida this spring, the small liberal arts college that was in headlines across the country for ron desantis’s board of trustees hostile takeover and exodus of professors.

new students and student athletes from conservative walks of life were being basically incentivized to go there who were taught to fear the lgbt boogeyman growing up in their conservative communities. but once they actually interacted with lgbt students there, many of them they felt like they understood them, and they weren’t as bad as they were told they would be. new college of florida was also famous for getting derek black (child of the man who created stormfront, and godchild of the kkk grand wizard david duke) out of white nationalism. their peers at NCF called them out but also interacted with them, invited them to dinner. black wrote a book about it.

now of course some people are too far gone and you shouldn’t waste your time with them, like derek’s family for example. but i also think a lot of people who voted for trump are not informed, are operating off of emotion and knee-jerk mentality because it’s easier than thinking, and they are not seeing the discussions that need to be had to change their mind because fuckin…nobody is doing them.

and we feel this visceral disgust to people of the opposing party because of its associations. i just want to know how it happened and how we got to be like this. i think social media is partly to blame and also the algorithms that take people down dangerous pipelines and sharpen them, insulate them.

i myself understand the vitriol you might have for anyone that voted for trump. i feel so disappointed that half the people of this country voted against our collective benefit. and i’ve seen a lot of sentiment from the left today saying “every single person who voted for trump is dead to me. i disowned you”.

you can see the reality of trump’s demagoguery, and it’s so obvious, but what i want to know is: what do they see? why did they vote for him? emotion and entertainment travel faster and have more reach than reason. and it’s that’s why i think contrapoints’s videos are exemplary at tackling this ideological divide. this is something i’ve been thinking about for months before today and i thought now was a better time than ever to give my two cents on it.

[qqueenofhades]

I don’t have any words right now for what’s happened. Where in the fuck do we go from here?

I don't know. I really, truly don't know. We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway. This is going to be an unprecedented time in American history (if, sadly, not world history) and the forces conspiring to make you obey will gain much of their power from you doing so in advance, without a struggle. It seems fair to say that America as it has always been historically constituted is over, and may not return in our lifetimes, but we also do not know that for a fact. If nothing else, the fascists will find it very hard to cancel competitive elections, and we cannot sit back, throw up our hands, conclude that voting is clearly meaningless, and let them do that. There are a lot of other things that we need to do, but that's one.

There are various postmortems to be written and nits to pick, but Harris was thrown into an impossible situation and did the best she could in 100 days. Even her critics agree she ran a pretty much flawless campaign. But this country simply decided that a well-qualified black woman could not be preferred over the most manifestly and flagrantly unfit degenerate to ever occupy the office. They decided this for many reasons, not least because large swathes of the country now live in curated misinformation bubbles that, under Government Czar Musk, will only get much, much worse. They were helped by the cowardice and complicity of the "mainstream media" that could have ended Trump's career exactly like they did to Biden after the first debate, but chose to preserve the profits of their billionaire oligarch owners and did not do so, giving Trump the benefit of the doubt and normalization at every turn. They also hounded Biden relentlessly over the four years of his presidency, never reported on the good things he did, and drove him to the historically bad approval ratings lows for a president who was by any metric, quite successful (and will quite possibly be our last ordinary American president for a very long time). Along with the searingly ingrained racism and misogyny and misinformation, Harris could not overcome that.

Democrats clearly had a messaging problem, but it's also true that the country, quite simply, does not care about "democracy" when the economy is perceived to be at stake. Not to over-egg the Hitler parallels, but yeah. This is how Hitler returned to power in 1933 -- on the backs of widespread economic collapse of the Weimar Republic; voters decided they just didn't care about the overtly fascist stuff, which he then proceeded to you know, do with genocidal vigor. Except the American economy in this case was actually doing well, which makes it even more baffling and indefensible. Enough people simply memory-holed Trump's crimes (aided at every turn by SCOTUS, Mitch McConnell not convicting him after January 6, Merrick Garland being far too slow and timid, the corporate media), liked the racist fascist behavior or felt that it wasn't a dealbreaker, and decided that in this election, he was the "change" candidate. It's insane by any metric, but that's what happened.

The country is deeply sick. We do not know what will happen. It's going to get bad. Barring a miracle, we will not have federalized abortion rights again in my lifetime, and there will be widespread attacks on public health, women's rights, immigrants, transgender people, and other vulnerable people. Even and especially the ones who voted for Trump. Never Thought Leopard Would Eat My Face, etc. Alito and Thomas will swiftly step down and allow their seats to be replaced by 40-year old wingnuts hand-selected from the worst the Federalist Society has to offer. SCOTUS is gone for the next generation at least. There is very little prospect of it being ever fixed in the foreseeable future.

Trump will never face a scintilla of consequences for his previous crimes; all the open federal cases will be closed as soon as he takes office and fires Jack Smith. The best we can hope for is that he dies in office, but then we get Vance and the cadre of alt-right techno billionaires ruled directly from the Kremlin. Putin is celebrating this morning and with good reason; he's gotten everything he wants. Trump will egg on Netanyahu in Gaza and abandon Ukraine. Democracy across the world will remain even more fragile and badly under threat. Authoritarians will be empowered and American withdrawal from international systems will percolate in very dangerous ways that cannot and will not be fixed in the short run. I really hope all the leftists who celebrate this as the "defeat of the genocide candidate" will enjoy all the genocide and suffering that's about to come. And yes, I do think the Israel-Palestine war fucked us in a large way. Jewish voters perceived the Democrats as insufficiently pro-Israel due to the presence of far-left antisemitism, even as the far left attacked the Democrats relentlessly and never targeted the Republicans. Arab voters abandoned them, possibly deservedly. What would have happened without the war? We don't know. You get the historical period that you get. Netanyahu and Trump can now do anything they want. Hope it was worth it.

As I said, I can't sugarcoat it. We are going to be paying for this in some form for the next decade, and probably longer. I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't. That, however, is something that has also happened before. What we decide to do next will shape how the next chapter unfolds.

This would be a great time to stock up on needed medicines, renew your passport online, and anything else you need to do in preparation for next year. Many of us simply do not have the wherewithal, whether financial or otherwise, to leave the country. I don't know what will happen with me. I don't know what will happen to any of us. This was utterly avoidable and yet, America didn't want to avoid it. At some point, there's nothing else you can do. You can point to media cronyism, Russian influence, etc etc., but the fact that two of the most qualified presidential candidates who happened to be women have now lost to Trump twice makes it unavoidable. The virulent rightward shift of young men (of all races) in particular paints a grim picture as to how the reactionary misogyny of the 21st century is going to essentially undo most of the progress for social and gender equality in the 20th. The patriarchy has been a problem for most of human history. Doesn't really seem like it's going to change.

The end result of this, however grim: we're still here. We are still living within our communities. If (and this is a big if) Democrats can retake the House, they can put some checks on the process for the next two years. At this point, we are in full-out buying-time, trying-to-prevent-the worst mode. We could have continued fixing things, but we won't be doing that. We will only be trying to preserve ourselves and our friends and our smaller spheres of influence. It sounds very trite to say that we have to have courage, but we do. There's not much else.

It's going to be an awful winter. We have two and a half months to see this coming and know how bad it's going to be, and... yeah. I don't know how soon the buyer's remorse will inevitably set in, but it will. Tough luck, people. You voted for him. You get the country that you decide to have. But the rest of us are also here, and what Gandalf says is still true. We wish the Ring had never come to us, we wish none of this had happened, but we still have to decide what to do with the time that is given to us.

I don't have a lot more. I'll probably be logging off for a while. I don't need to look at the internet for.... yeah, a long time. (Will I do it anyway? Probably.) I don't know what else to leave you with, aside from again:

Do not obey in advance. Do not act as if everything is foreordained and set in stone. Fascist regimes end. They always do. We are going to have to figure out how, and it will suck shit, but the alternative is worse.

Take care of yourselves. I love you.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[starryjake]

sharing | hyung line

who shares their girl with who in enha hyung line

pairing: enha hyung line x fem!reader

includes: threesomes, sucking dick, fingering, pussy eating, cum swallowing, hand job, nipple play (lmk if i missed anything).

heeseung .ೃ࿐

heeseung would share you with jake. he knows just from the way jake looks at you that he would make you feel good, better than any of the other guys would. jake was very loving and attentive, which is all that heeseung would want for his baby.

“he making you feel good, baby?” heeseung whispered in your ear, sending chills throughout your overheated body.

you had your head laying in his lap and he played with your hair while jake was situated between your thighs, dazed out while he was lapping at your pussy.

“yeah,” you mewled, jutting your hips into jake’s mouth, “but i want you to feel good too.”

heeseung’s heart melted slightly at the fact you still cared about him and his pleasure, even while getting your pussy eaten by his best friend.

that was how the position changed and suddenly you were on your hands and knees sucking heeseung’s heavy cock while jake ate you from behind.

he had your legs spread and stuffed his face into your pussy, moaning against your folds. you were gagging on heeseung’s cock every time it hit you in the back of the throat.

jake gets so pussy drunk so easily he’d probably start crushing on you just because of how sweet your pussy tasted around his tongue. would literally dream about the day heeseung let him eat out his girlfriend for MONTHS and beg to let him do it again.

jay *ೃ༄

i could see jay not wanting ANY of them to go anywhere NEAR his girl, but if he absolutely had to he would probably choose heeseung. heeseung was the oldest so jay trusted that he would know how to act around his girl.

and heeseung surprisingly did know his way around making you feel good. he watched with focused eyes on your reactions as he stuffed you full of his fingers, adding more and more and seeing how you liked it.

“fuck,” he muttered, watching you throw your head back in pleasure after he added a fourth finger into your tight, stuffed pussy. “she’s so fuckin’ hot.”

you were leaking arousal around his fingers, dripping down the side of his hand. you were loving this, clearly.

“good girl,” jay cooed, moving some hair out of your face. “open up, baby. let’s get both your holes full.”

he stuffed his cock into your mouth, ruthlessly fucking your throat while heeseung fingered you with an entire four fingers. you came multiple times over his fingers, each orgasm more intense than the last, and watched in awe as he brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth to taste you.

it didn’t take long for jay to shoot his warm, salty seed down your throat, filling up your tummy as well.

jake ੈ✩‧₊˚

jake would have trouble sharing you with anyone but if he had to choose, it would of course be sunghoon. sunghoon is practically jake’s brother so he felt comfortable letting sunghoon have fun with his girl, but he will absolutely NOT let anyone else fuck you. that’s for jake and jake only.

he watched with a nervous expression as sunghoon’s middle finger slid inside your shiny hole. you moaned, clenching around his finger while jake held your hand. his grip grew tighter and tighter as sunghoon massaged his finger inside of you.

“does it feel good?” he asked, kissing up your neck.

sunghoon added a second finger alongside his middle.

“f-fuck,” you whispered, feeling your hole stretch around sunghoon’s long fingers. “yeah.”

you tilted jake’s head up and attached your lips together. jake moaned into the kiss and slid his tongue into your mouth while you spread your legs even wider for sunghoon to slide in yet another finger inside you.

“so nice and tight,” sunghoon grunted, feeling you clench around his hand. “bet it feels insane fucking her.”

“don’t even think about it,” jake scolded, momentarily pulling away from your lips.

you moaned, a string of saliva connecting yours and jake’s lips.

jake lifted the fabric of your shirt up to your shoulders and started rubbing your sensitive nipples, only adding to the pleasure you were getting from sunghoon.

a few minutes later, with your lips attached to jake’s again and his fingers on your tits, you came all over sunghoon’s fingers.

sunghoon ༊*·˚

honestly i could see him allowing any of the older ones to mess around with you. he trusted all of them and knew they’d make you feel good, but he didn’t want to share you with that many people, so he chose jay.

however, choosing jay meant a lot of bickering back and forth as they both tried to pleasure you.

“she doesn’t like it like that,” sunghoon commented, watching jay circle his tongue over your clit.

“i think i know how to give a girl head,” jay retorted, irritated.

“not my girl,” sunghoon mumbled.

jay rolled his eyes as he stuffed his tongue into your cunt. sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he just sat there and watched, wishing he was the one between your legs instead.

then suddenly, he felt your hand crawl onto his lap and grip his throbbing bulge over his pants. it was like you knew he was feeling left out.

he ended up kneeling beside your head as you jerked off his pretty, long cock while jay ate you out. as weird as he felt about it, sunghoon admittedly found it pretty hot to watch you get eaten out by his best friend, and ended up cumming way too soon all over your pretty little face.

you came shortly after in jay’s mouth, who then smirked cockily at sunghoon with his glistening in your arousal.

sunghoon figured he’d let jake have you next time instead.

-

😮‍💨😮‍💨i tried to be logical about this. lmk if u agree and what pairing you want to tag team you LOL

personally i need a fivesome with all of them <3

thanks for reading!

[latenightreadingpdf]

Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now he’s in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emily’s shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, they’d even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.

All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, I’m not going."

Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didn’t even get to ask!"

"Doesn’t matter. I’m not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.

"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, I’ll never ask again. I swear."

Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Derek’s face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guys—he’s in! Let’s go before he changes his mind."

Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Spence, you’ll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.

Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasn’t exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these weren’t really his scene—he usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."

Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Don’t need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Spencer’s face softened, and he blurted, “I’ve got an amazing girlfriend at home.”

"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So what’s her name?"

Spencer’s face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. “She’s incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. She’s way out of my league—I still can’t believe she’s with me.”

Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. “Why don’t you call Y/N to pick you up, then?” he said, jokingly.

Spencer’s face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint “Hello?” from the other end.

Spencer’s face lit up even more. “Hello, my love,” he said, voice thick with affection.

You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “Hey, Spence! Everything alright?”

Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why he’d called. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I just…wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Uh, hi,” you replied, a little confused. “Who is this?"

Derek cleared his throat. “This is Derek. Spencer friend.”

“Oh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.” you said, sounding amused. “I’m Y/N, his girlfriend.”

Derek muttered, “Holy shit, you’re real.”

"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chuckled. “Listen, Spencer’s had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?”

You let out a soft, understanding laugh. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.”

Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriend’s coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencer’s been hiding a girlfriend from them.

Spencer’s eyes lit up even more. “Y/N?” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, pretty boy, Y/N,” Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.

Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled. “Someone cool to hang out with.”

Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencer’s eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like he’d just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.

Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you tonight."

Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.

Derek chuckled, nodding. "I’d like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."

He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What are you staring at?” she asked, following his gaze to the exit.

“Spencer’s got a girlfriend,” Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.

Penelope’s eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.

Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fine! But right now, you’re dancing with me.”

Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[ddejavvu]

I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him

Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.

it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.

It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.

JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"

Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.

"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.

"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"

Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.

"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.

"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"

"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"

"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."

"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."

Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.

Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.

"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."

Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.

"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."

[keeryhours]

birthday cake - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

It’s Iris’ first birthday, and Rafe may have gone a little overboard.

Warnings:

None, just birthday party fluff, some kissing

Word Count: 2,960

A/N:

I love baby daddy Rafe. Let me know if you want to see more!

—

“Well don’t you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Iris smiled and clapped her hands, giggling at your excited expression. She was dressed in a big poofy pink dress, white Mary Janes on her feet. Her light brown hair had been gathered into two tiny pigtails. She had a party hat you would try to get a picture of her in later, but you knew better than to try to get her to actually wear it.

It was May 26th, exactly one year since the best, most amazing day of your life.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” JJ called as he walked through the living room carrying an armful of gifts. He had been packing the car the entire time you’d been getting Iris ready.

You picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip, grabbing her diaper bag and your purse with your free hand as you followed JJ to the door.

JJ got the last of the party supplies packed in the back of the car while you buckled Iris in her car seat, which turned out to be more difficult than expected with the floofy dress. You briefly wonder if you should have changed her at the country club.

You got it done eventually, and then you and JJ were on the road to Figure 8.

Rafe had insisted you hire a party planner. You argued with him on it at first, because you are perfectly capable of planning a first birthday party yourself, but he wouldn’t drop it, saying he didn’t want you stressing about planning and setting it up yourself. You had rolled your eyes, but he was paying for it, so you figured, what the hell.

It actually wasn’t bad at all. The party planner had involved you every step of the way just like you’d wanted to be. She let you make all the decisions while she made it all come together. It was honestly amazing.

You arrived at the country club just in time to get settled before guests began to arrive. JJ carried the gifts while you carried the baby. You had planned the party for the perfect time, she was freshly up from a nap and would probably stay in a great mood for the whole event.

Your eyes widened as you, JJ, and Iris walked into the event space that had been booked for the party. The theme you had decided on was Berry First Birthday, and it was the most extravagant baby’s birthday party you’d ever seen.

When Rafe had told you he wanted to take care of the party, you didn’t know what to think. He told you you’d still have full creative control because he knew you’d been looking forward to it, but he was going to cover it and he wanted to hire a planner. He let you make every decision, mostly staying out of it, his only instruction being “It has to be the best for my girl.”

There was a big balloon arch made up of red, white, pink, and berry colored balloons, including some actual strawberry balloons, sitting in front of a large pink backdrop with printed strawberries that said Iris’ Berry First Birthday. A vintage looking white high chair sat in front of it, a banner attached to the front that said One with pink and red tassels.

There was a long table filled with food, including some cookies in the shape of strawberries and a large spread of fresh fruit. There was a table that held champagne, which you thought was kind of funny for a one year old’s party. Another table held a giant 3-tiered white cake decorated with strawberries.

He had really gone all out. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything less.

Rafe came walking over the second he noticed you walk through the door, a grin on his face.

“There’s my birthday girl,” he said, reaching his hands out for Iris. She immediately held her arms out, leaning forward towards him.

You handed her over with a laugh, knowing you were no competition when Rafe was around. She was a complete daddy’s girl.

He placed a big kiss on her cheek as he settled her in his arms, and she giggled.

“You look so pretty, baby girl,” he complimented her, smoothing down the puffy skirt of her dress. “I love your dress.”

“Dadadadada,” she babbled in response, a gummy grin on her face. She still only had about 5 teeth. Rafe wore a pink shirt and khaki colored pants, and it was adorable the way he matched with her.

“You really went all out,” you said, taking in the extravagance of the event.

“Yeah, well,” he said, brushing you off and not taking his eyes off the baby, “she only turns 1 once.”

Rafe was always a real baby hog. Once he took her when you arrived, you had a hard time getting her back. You busied yourself arranging the gifts on the gift table and setting out the gift bags you had put together for all the guests.

Guests began to arrive not long after. You and Rafe greeted them together with Iris, the star of the show, in his arms. She absolutely ate up all the attention, giving everyone a big smile and tolerating being passed around to friends and family.

“It’s my bestie!” Sarah squealed as she walked up with Wheezie next to her, holding her hands out for her niece. Rafe reluctantly handed her over, mostly because Iris had already been reaching for Sarah anyway.

Sarah and Wheezie cooed at the baby, fussing over her outfit and hair. Rafe watched, looking impatient to get her back.

“I can’t believe you’re one already,” Sarah said, looking emotional as she hugged Iris to her chest. Iris tolerated the hold for about 2 seconds before she was wiggling free, and then she was reaching for Rafe again. Rafe took her back with a smug grin on his face.

“Me either,” you said, fighting back tears. You had been emotional all day, you definitely didn’t need to be reminded how monumental of a day it was.

You had been satisfied with cell phone pictures, but apparently Rafe had hired a whole photographer. She called you over now, to the backdrop.

There was a whole photo session while the guests helped themselves to the food and refreshments. Photos of you and Iris, Rafe and Iris, you, Rafe, and Iris together. Pictures with Iris, Rafe, Sarah, Wheezie, Ward, and Rose. Some of you and JJ with her. And of course a group photo with the pogues with the birthday girl in the center.

When it was time for cake, you settled Iris into the vintage high chair. JJ brought over her smash cake, which was a smaller version of the big cake - small, round, and white with strawberries painted in icing decorating it. There was a big 1 candle on top.

JJ handed the cake to you, and Rafe pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

The two of you walked over to the high chair, holding the cake in front of Iris close enough to see but far enough away that she couldn’t reach the fire.

The whole party began to sing happy birthday, and it was then that it really hit you.

The past 365 days of your life flashed before your eyes. First smile, first laugh, first tooth, first word, learning to crawl. First night home from the hospital, when Rafe never strayed far from your side, holding newborn Iris every chance he got so you could eat and shower and sleep. The day she was born, when Rafe held your hand the entire time you were in labor, wiping the sweat off your face, feeding you ice chips, and telling you You’re doing amazing, babe. How it had been a complicated labor, and when she was finally out and you heard her cry, you both looked at each other and breathed out a collectively held breath of relief. Seeing your daughter for the first time, just a tiny little thing, brand new to the world and snuggling into your chest for comfort. Rafe holding her for the first time, looking at her with pure adoration, and the way he cried (but made you promise not to tell anyone about that).

Your eyes moved up to look at him, and like he had the exact same thought at the same time, he turned and his gaze met yours as you continued to sing the song. Tears welled up in your eyes and you saw his become glassy, too. You both smiled at each other, a million unspoken emotions conveyed between them.

When the song was over, you and Rafe blew the candle out together, watching Iris’ delighted face. Rafe removed the candle and you placed the little smash cake in front of Iris.

She examined it first, cautious. Rafe grabbed her little hand, dipping it in the icing and bringing it to her lips. She gladly put her fingers in her mouth, they were usually there anyway, but her face lit up with a smile when she tasted the buttercream icing.

“See? Mmm, yummy,” Rafe said, beaming at her.

“Ummy,” Iris repeated, and she dipped her hand into the cake willingly this time, grabbing a big handful and bringing it to her mouth.

Rafe laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together once. Guests were taking pictures and videos on their phones, the photographer getting plenty of shots. Everyone continued to watch as Iris devoured her smash cake, eating until she couldn’t anymore.

You and Rafe cleaned all the cake off of her when she was finished, which always made her cranky. She screamed as you wiped her off, but you and Rafe only laughed. You were still feeling emotional.

The big cake was served to all the guests by country club staff, and again it occurred to you that you had never in your life seen such a grand event for a one year old.

Presents were opened after everyone ate, you and Rafe on either side of Iris as she ripped into her gifts. She was more interested in the paper and empty bags than the gifts inside them, but at least she was having a blast. You knew she’d be excited about the actual gifts later.

The gift table was already overflowing with the amount of guests at the party, but you swore that Rafe himself had brought half the table. It seemed like every other present handed your way had From Daddy written on it in Rafe’s handwriting.

Iris was asleep in Rafe’s arms by the time the guests began to leave. She was absolutely knocked out from all the excitement of the day.

Rafe stroked her hair absentmindedly as you both saw your guests off, thanking everyone for coming.

It was just close family and friends left, JJ and the pogues were loading up the car with Iris’ gifts while you ate another piece of birthday cake.

“Turned out pretty good,” Rafe said, speaking softly as he held your sleeping daughter.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. You did not have to go all out like this.” You raised your eyebrows at him, icing smeared on your lips.

Rafe reached forward with his free hand, swiping his thumb across your lips and gathering up the icing. He popped his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the icing off as he held eye contact with you. You watched him, stunned for a minute.

“It’s no big deal,” Rafe said as if nothing had happened. “I wanted her to have a good party.”

You just looked at him. He was unbothered as usual.

“Well, it was a great party,” you finally said. “I appreciate it, Rafe.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for doing things for our daughter. I want to.”

You knew he was being honest. Rafe went overboard sometimes, this being a perfect example, but he had the best intentions and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was hard not to fall in love with him when you watched him being the world’s best dad.

When the car was packed full and there were still plenty of gifts left, Rafe told the guys to start loading the rest in his truck.

“I’m worried all this stuff isn’t gonna fit in the house,” you said, furrowing your brows as you threw away some trash.

“Anything there’s not room for she can keep at my place,” Rafe offered. Most of her stuff was at your and JJ’s house, because that’s where she spent most of her time, but she certainly was spoiled at Rafe’s too.

When everything was successfully packed up, Rafe buckled Iris into her car seat. She was so tired she barely stirred, continuing to nap as he snapped the buckles around her body and carried her to your car.

Rafe locked the car seat into the base in your back seat. He turned to you, suddenly standing so close.

“I’ll follow you back to the house,” he said quietly. “Help you unload all this stuff.”

Back at the house, you carried Iris’ seat inside, unbuckling her and bringing her to her bedroom while Rafe and JJ unloaded the cars. You changed her out of her dress and into something comfy and let her hair down.

You rocked her in the glider. She was so worn out from her day she started to drift back off quickly, her eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing in your arms.

When you stood to lay her in her crib, you noticed Rafe standing at the door. You slightly jumped when you saw him, not expecting him to be there, which made him chuckle quietly and you gave him a playful glare.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you and Rafe softly.

“She’s tired, huh,” Rafe observed, smiling at you. He was in a good mood today - it had been a good day.

“Worn out,” you agreed.

Rafe reached forward, rubbing his large hand down your arm. “You did really good, by the way.”

“It was fun,” you said. “But the planner definitely did most of the work.”

“She just did the boring part, you made the whole thing come together.”

You smiled back at him. He was being sweet, he was making an effort.

“I know everyone’s been saying it all day, but I can’t believe she’s actually one,” Rafe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It feels like she was just born.”

Your smile was tinged with sadness, the emotions from the day sticking with you. “I know. It’s too fast. All of it,” You shook your head, thinking of how fleeting her baby days had been.

“I just wish…” Rafe began, looking down at his hands instead of at you as he spoke, “That I didn’t have to miss out on any of her life.”

You were silent. You knew what he meant. But you also knew that a relationship didn’t work between the two of you. It was toxic, you were both jealous, you fought all the time. When you co-parented as two single parents, things were easy. If only you could ignore the way he made you feel.

Rafe sighed when you didn’t respond. He said your name softly. You turned to look at him, finding his deep blue eyes staring into yours. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, hand reaching up to play with your hair.

“Rafe…” you breathed, and you knew you should push him away, walk away, anything, but you don’t.

Rafe leaned down until his lips met yours, kissing you softly, gently. You felt yourself melt into his kiss, like every bit of common sense in your brain was dying.

His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, massaging your own.

You moaned against his lips, which only egged him on more as he slid his hands around your body to grab your ass.

You pulled away just enough to speak. “JJ could walk back here at any second…” you whispered against his mouth.

Rafe’s lips quirked up in a smirk, because he didn’t particularly care about that. But he knew you did.

“Maybe we can go to your bedroom, then?” he proposed, his fingers stroking over your body and sending shivers across your skin.

You wanted to say yes. But it was always a bad idea, always such a bad idea - maybe for once you’d make a smart decision.

“I can’t…” you said, sounding like it pained you.

Rafe just held you for a second longer. Finally, he pressed his lips to your forehead, giving it a kiss as he pulled away from you, squeezing your arm as he let you go.

“I better get going then,” he said, and neither of you wanted him to, but you didn’t change your mind. You didn’t stop him.

Rafe turned and left the house before you could even say anything. You stood in the hallway until you heard the front door closing, his truck starting outside.

You briefly thought about running after him, begging him to come back and spend the night with you. But you don’t. You decide to have more respect for yourself than that.

But you spend the whole night in your bed, thinking of him, aching for him. Until you reach for your cell phone, charging on the bedside table. You send him an impulsive text, just seeing if he’s still up.

His response comes immediately.

Rafey

Knew you’d regret letting me leave.

[wcters]

𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━━ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[still-a-dreamer-even-now]

she wants to understand, she tried to understand, she begs them to tell her what happened to them in the country and they all look at each other having a silent conversation she will never understand and edmund makes a joke that doesn’t quite ring true about their time and she wonders once again when her younger son became a diplomat and her children became a parliament

“the war changed them” she says to anyone that knew them before “i hardly know them myself anymore”

and she says it with false laughter and haunted eyes and a heavy sense that she has missed something crucial and the people that knew them don’t quite get it, “they’re growing up” they say “war changed everyone” but helen pevensie has never seen children who eyes tell her they’ve truly, really lived entire lifetimes at 15

i helen is so terrified her kids grew up without her while still being so young like they lost their childhood it was robbed from them but in reality their childhood was rich and wonderful and lovely and lively and yes even magical and they grew up at a normal rate and then were forced to live through that growing up again in a world less beautiful and she’s afraid they missed their childhood but really truly it was she who missed it

because every time they’ve started trying to explain it to sit her down and tell her, every time she frustratedly throws down a rag while washing the dishes and begs peter to act his age in a way most kids will never hear it said (be a kid!! for goodness sake be a kid, peter!!) and he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again and shakes his head with such a noble tilt and tells her not to worry and that he’s fine and that’s he’s nearly old enough to worry about adult matters now anyhow

because how do you explain to your mother that you’re not really a child (i’ve grown so much in your absence mother) without sounding like you didn’t need her, without sounding like you’re telling a story or a joke instead of the truth (i wish i could show you our palace, our friends) and how do you tell your mother you learned swordsmanship from a mouse, or learned diplomacy from a centaur, that the trees taught you to waltz, you like your tea that way because of a dear old faun, won’t she think you’re playing? joking, teasing her relentlessly? isn’t it easier for her to think you’ve grown than for her to be so concerned that you’re still so childish? and wouldn’t it be wonderful if she would just believe you? but you know she won’t, so you sit silently at the table and hum a lullaby to yourself in a language you wish you could teach her and wonder if a lifetime apart is too long to get to know someone again

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[shaisuki]

Hi may I request yuji/sukuna taking “turns” with their chubby darling, just them non stop love making showing how much they absolutely adore her & filling her to the brim 🩷

sukuna was willing to put his pride back. tagging along with his host for the sake of having the taste of your fat pussy in his mouth and it was such a little low for him that he's using his host's cock just to fill her sweet pussy. such a shame you weren't being fucked by his two cocks in his original form. you would absolutely take it. your pussy was made for his cock.

but now — he's using it. having to coaxed that brat of a host of his to consider the offer that he had given to him. the three rules and one of them was to let him ravage you using itadori's body.

the brat wasn't the easiest and took him more of a little convincing. he wants to bark a laugh. there's no convincing in his past. sukuna doesn't do persuasion.

“you take this cock so well. you would do better on my cocks.” sukuna muses. pinning the back of your wrist while he fucks you from behind. the swell of your ass hitting his pelvis or rather itadori's.

your face buried in the pillows while you cry out his name in pleasure. the stretch of itadori's fat cock inside you fills you up so deliciously and being pounded by sukuna was the cherry on top.

sukuna chuckles behind as he leaned in. his hot breath tickling the skin in your back where layers of skin are like dough being repeatedly kneaded by the thrust of his hips. the constant slap of skin to skin filling the room.

“you could have been my favorite concubine if you existed in my time.” he muses. changing the he rhythm of his thrust, turning into one brutal slam of his hips. “i'll have you filled with my cum every night. stuffed with my cocks full that you'll feel me for days inside you.” letting out a groan when he feels you squeezing around him. “you like that? it's a privilege being filled with my seed and you're the perfect one.” smirking at your skin when he hears you gasp.

sukuna takes a lick. his tongue (itadori's) drags at the soft expanse of your skin — covered with a thin sheen of sweat from the coupling before sinking his teeth into the skin. the sensation making you tighten around him and with a sudden harsh slam of his hips. he buried his dick to the hilt. the tip of his cock nudging at the entrance of your womb before spurting thick ropes of his cum. painting your walls white and filling you to the brim.

you cried out as it triggered your orgasm and the stinging of the skin breaking from his teeth. droplets of blood surfacing and sukuna licked the crimson liquid. groaning at the taste of your blood. it had been so long since he got a taste of the human flesh. your blood will work for now.

sukuna grins at the sight of your plush body riddled with his bite marks. some of your blood seeped through the cracks of your skin where he had bitten. proud of what he had done and if you're pussy weren't any good, he already had devoured you.

annoyance settled before him as he feels the owner of the body he currently lives switched with him. he can cooperate for now. he will be back later though.

itadori got a hold back of his body. he bites back a moan. his cock that was previously used by sukuna is still nestled inside you. the remnants of his cum trickled at the sheets beneath him. mixed with your own arousal.

he slowly pulls his cock out. gently turning you around. laying in his bed with your face fucked out having achieved multiple orgasms from being fucked earlier, both itadori and the curse living inside him, sukuna had repeatedly filled you to the brim.

“yuuji....” you weakly moaned out and itadori leans down. burying his face in the crook of your neck. his cock still hard pressing in the skin of your thigh littered with bites. “you can still take more...” lifting you up easily like you weigh nothing in his lap. “of course, she still can.” come sukuna interrupts. his mouth forming in yuuji's cheek. itadori ignores it.

you weakly gripped yuuji's shoulder as he lifts you up before slowly sinking your awaiting heat to his cock. “yuuji!” you throw your head back. the sensitivity of your abused cunt adding tremors of pleasure-pain down in your core.

“i got you, okay...” the pink-haired sorcerer coos at you. settling in for a easy rhythm as he thrusts upwards. groaning as your fat pussy wraps around his cock. hugging him like a glove.

“f-feels so good!” you cried out. tangling your fingers in his head while you lean down to kiss him and yuuji accepted it with open mouth. his lips sucking your tongue as he builds up the pace of fucking you.

he grabs a boob in his hand squeezing it while the other holds your ass and sukuna's mouth appeared on his palm where his hand is. biting your nipple before sucking them. you clenched harder around him. moaning in the kiss as you moved your hips downward meeting his thrust.

itadori couldn't stop. you just feels so good. he can't bring himself to stop despite having released his load to you before sukuna took over. you were made for him and for you to take his cock repeatedly is enough for him to bust his load again. over and over to your awaiting cunt. the squelch of his cum that he previously filled you with mingled with your arousal adds to his heightened senses and it didn't take long for him to fill you up again.

his hips stuttering before completely grinding your hips on his to fill you with his load. you had already cummed and the sensation of being filled again send you the edge again. you softly pant. regaining your breath while you slowly roll your hips to prolong your orgasm and his.

you press a chaste kiss to itadori's face and you bite back a moan. sukuna's tattoos are already appearing and it was far from done. it looks like these two had already came to understand for one thing, is that to fill you up with their cum.

you weren't complaining to and sukuna's smirk and tattoos disappearing to show yuuji was the last thing you see before you drifted to sleep. filled to the brim with their cum.

[aquaticmercy]

Blood Bound

Part 2 to Bloodlust Companion text: What is a Blood Bond?

Summary : You are blood bonded to Bucky. The problem? You don't know what a blood bond is.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Cursing. Sexual tension. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). Brief mention of sex (not graphic). Violence.

Word count : 3.1k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. John Walker and Eric Brooks feature in this because I kinda tolerate John because I think he has potential to be a well-written character, and I loved the Blade comics as a kid. Enjoy!

Whatever manifested between you and Bucky after the feeding only grew stronger in the days that followed. 

It wasn’t just the bite, nor was it just the intoxicating power of his super-soldier blood; it was something more— it has to be. It was something that you could not identify yet— it was as if it unlocked something dormant.

You didn’t understand it. The only bond you knew of was the familiar bond— and that required Bucky drinking your blood, not the other way around.

You knew you should’ve read up more on the history of vampirism. Granted, your lack of knowledge at this point wasn’t entirely your fault— you hadn’t lived very long, at least not by vampire standards. You haven’t even lived through a human lifetime yet.

You had barely scratched the surface of the supernatural experience. Eric Brooks had told you to read thousands of ancient inscriptions, and you were even a quarter way there yet. 

Besides, maybe you were just overthinking it. Maybe this was just what it felt to feed on an enhanced being.

Of course, you had fed on people before Eric— Blade— found you. He had seen you as a feral teenage daywalker, reckless but full of potential. It had been different then. Human blood was good but not great, it just gave you sustenance. You’d always imagine you had to get used to blood the same way high school kids learned to like beer.

When Eric took you in, he gave you shelter. He gave you a home and proper training. He gave you bags of serum monthly— ones he developed as a blood replacement. He gave you scrolls to study, books to read.

He told you to never ever consume human blood, even if it means you would never be satisfied.

Well, you broke that rule.

It had been weeks now since you first fed on Bucky’s blood, and now you could feel him like a second pulse.

It started with small things. So small that it went unnoticed at first. You’d reach for a glass of water, only to have him pass it to you before you even realized you were thirsty. He’d appear beside you on missions, his arms raised to protect you the second you sensed an incoming attack. And his injuries—those bruises and cuts you’d tend to— left ghostly aches on your skin.

After the feeding, both your powers became something else entirely. 

Your already sharp reflexes were sharper, your speed more supernatural that it should be. Bucky noticed it too—he moved with more than super soldier agility, leaping over gates as if they weren’t there, dodging bullets with uncanny ease. 

It wasn’t just that. Your emotions flowed into each other in unexpected surges. 

When Bucky felt anger, a hot, restless fury built within you, too. When your mind was clouded by doubt or fear, he’d tense up beside you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you both stumbled back to your shared apartment. His shirt was ripped, exposing the bruises mottling his chest. He tried to ignore it, but he knew you felt it, too. 

“I need you,” he murmured, voice steady, almost begging. 

“Bucky, we can’t keep doing this,” You swallowed. “What if you get hurt?”

“I won’t,” he growled, fingers brushing over your cheek, voice thick with longing. “Don’t you feel it? I’m stronger, faster— I’m healing quicker than I ever have before. Whatever this is, it’s changing both of us.”

The words hung in the air. You’d felt it too, that surge of power, that electric hum that vibrated through your bones.

“What is this?” you whispered, not expecting an answer. “What is it doing to us?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, his voice a dark, thrilling promise as he leaned in, the heat of his breath grazing your skin.

You hesitated, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. “Maybe we should ask Eric. He’s dealt with this daywalker thing longer—he might understand—”

There was a glint of frustration in his gaze. “And have him tell you to stop feeding off me? To go back to starving, until you waste away?” His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer. “His serum isn’t working anymore. Cow blood isn’t working. You need this. And I’m not about to let you go through hell to satisfy someone else’s rules.”

You felt your guard slipping, his words and the heat in his eyes breaking down your last defences. He was offering himself to fill the void inside you. And you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you onto his lap.

Slowly, you let your fangs graze his skin, a soft, tantalizing scrape that drew a low groan from his throat. His hands tightened around you. With a gentle press, you sank your fangs in.

The first taste of his blood hit you like a shockwave, the way it did the first time. He flooded your senses in a dizzying head rush. He tasted so intoxicating that it left you gasping.

You felt his pulse in your mouth, steady and strong.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Don’t stop.”

His words were a spark to the fire inside you. His blood was like a drug. You couldn’t talk where you ended and he began.

His hands roamed over your back, fingers tracing every curve, pressing you closer as if he couldn’t bear any distance between you. The way he held you, the way he breathed your name—it was like he was offering every part of himself to you

When you finally pulled back, Bucky’s eyes were heavy-lidded. He reached up, brushing his thumb over your lips, smearing the faint trace of his own blood as he gazed at you, his hazy eyes a mixture of wonder and desire.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, his voice a low growl.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the mark you’d left, your tongue flicking over the wound as he shivered. You could feel his pulse slowing, his heartbeat returning to a steady rhythm as the euphoria settled over him. He looked almost dazed, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he gazed up at you.

“You really think Eric would understand?” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with a dark humour.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “He wouldn’t,” you savoured the warmth beneath your hands. “And I don’t care. This… this is ours.”

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver up your spine. 

The feeding continued, more frequently, and you both realised the connection you felt went beyond survival in battle.

The first time you felt each other’s pleasure in bed, it hit you both like a wave, powerful and dizzying, sweeping through you so intensely that you weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. His pleasure sparked in your core, racing along your nerves like electricity, feeding back into him, and then doubling again within you. The feeling grew in an endless loop.

Every gasp, every moan became a shared experience, each sensation reverberating between you in dizzying echoes. His touch, as he moved within you, left you quivering; his breath against your neck seemed to burn, intensifying every rush of desire until you could barely breathe.

It was all-consuming.

And then, once, you’d fed from him in the midst of it, your lips against his neck as his pulse thundered beneath your mouth. The second your teeth broke skin, a flood of his essence surged through you, a rush so potent, so intoxicating, you nearly lost yourself in it. 

It was more than pleasure; it was pure, unfathomable ecstasy, a high that pulled both of you into an untethered oblivion.

Afterward, both of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined. It was as though pieces of yourselves had fused. It was the most intense connection you’d ever felt, something neither of you could put into words. Even if you could, it would never do it justice. 

In the silences you shared, you knew that no other pleasure could ever compare to what you shared.

—

The mist hung thick around the old Hydra outpost, cloaking it in a damp chill that seeped into your skin, even with your heightened senses. The place reeked of decay and rot. A vampire nest thrived in the old base— newly turned vampires hiding from the world, growing stronger, more feral with each night that passed.

They killed people. They turned people.

You, Bucky, Eric Brooks, and John Walker were there to wipe them out before they could spread their sickness further.

Eric took point, his silhouette sharp in the mist as he motioned for you and Bucky to fan out around him.

“Close ranks.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No one goes in solo."

You nodded, knowing better than to push against his authority. 

John, off to the side, gave Bucky a wry look. "Better keep up, Barnes.”

You could smell the faintest whiff of fear from John—though he’d never admit it. 

You moved forward, sinking deeper into the ruins, stopped by cracked concrete walls that loomed like tombstones.

Your eyes met Bucky’s. 

As you scaled the wall together, Bucky’s fingers brushing the concrete just behind yours.

John huffed below, struggling to keep up. His irritation crackled in the air as he muttered, “I thought we were both supersoldiers.”

“You’re getting slow, Walker,” Bucky said, his voice a low rasp, though he didn’t look down.

Once at the top, you peered down into the yard below. The stench hit you—stale human blood, mould, the faint copper tang of vampire blood. You all dropped down with a quiet thud, though John was louder than you’d like him to be. 

“Left flank,” Eric instructed, motioning toward the entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, gripping the hilt of your knife, feeling its hunger.

Bucky moved beside you, ready, his presence as familiar as your own heartbeat. John and Eric fanned out to the right, slipping into the murky depths of the compound with grim determination.

The first vampire appeared just as you and Bucky reached the door, its eyes blazing red in the dim light. It had time to hiss, but not to scream. You launched yourself at it, your knife slicing through. 

A second figure lunged at Bucky, but before it could touch him, you were there, your blade found the vampire’s heart.

Bucky grinned, a wild, reckless glimmer in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged wordlessly, almost casually.

Inside the base, the halls were narrow and cold, every corner shrouded in shadows. Bloodstains smeared the walls, and the smell of decay lingered thickly in the air. You moved quickly, every step calculated, every breath measured. The vampires were emerging in hoards now, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the thrill of a fight. They came at you in waves—fangs bared, claws extended, feral eyes blazing.

One raked its nails across your shoulder, tearing into muscle. You winced, and Bucky’s eyes snapped to you, feeling the sharp pain sear through him, too. He yanked it off, his fist connecting with its jaw with a brutal crack. You pivoted, driving your knife through its chest, twisting until you felt the resistance give way.

John staggered past, panting as he took down a vampire, his face slick with sweat. He cast a sidelong glance at you and Bucky, frustration etched deep into his scowl. “How are you both running circles around us?”

“Stay focused, Walker,” Eric barked, but you could tell he’d heard John. He’d noticed how your movements mirrored Bucky’s, how you flinched when he did, even how you were breathing in time with each other. Eric’s gaze lingered too long, as if he was convincing himself something he didn’t want to believe.

“You’ve been off the blood serum for a while,” Blade murmured suddenly, his voice low and directed at you. “What have you been feeding on, kid?”

“Animal blood” you said quietly, keeping your gaze neutral, slashing down another vampire with ease.

Eric’s knuckle tightened, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He’d taught you everything you knew, raised you like a sister. And here you were, deceiving him with half-truths.

Before he could respond, another wave of vampires rushed you from the darkness, cutting the conversation short. 

Blade fought beside you, taking in every detail of the fight, every flinch, every glance you shared with Bucky.

“If you’re feeding on something else, you need to tell me.” He stepped closer, beheading a bloodsucker without even looking at it. “Now.”

You wanted to tell him, to explain the connection you shared with Bucky, and asked if he knew what the hell was going on, but the words caught in your throat. 

The fear of his disapproval held you back. He had warned you so many times against crossing that line, of giving into the hunger that all vampires struggled to control. And yet… Bucky had been different. 

You shoved Eric back, drawing his attention to the fight. “Save it for later,” you said, your voice clipped. “We’ve got company.”

You turned, facing down the horde with Bucky at your side, the two of you tearing through the vampires with an intensity that bordered on frenzy. Each kill was swift— brutal. Your knife left trails of gore in your wake, while Bucky’s fists shattered skulls with merciless precision.

At one point, you felt the burn of a blade slicing across your forearm, a deep, ragged cut that sent a surge of pain up your arm. But before you could react, Bucky flinched beside you, clutching his own arm as if he’d been wounded too. 

His gaze shifted back and forth between you and him. He moved in close, his voice barely a whisper as he muttered, “This isn’t normal.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. You didn’t know what was happening.

The final vampire fell, its scream echoing down the blood-stained halls. The four of you stood in the aftermath, panting, bruised, and blood-soaked. The air was thick with the scent of the undead.

Eric’s gaze shifted to Bucky. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he muttered, almost to himself. “A blood bonded daywalker…”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You didn’t know what a blood bond was, never even heard of it. But the way Eric said it made your heart skip a beat.

Eric’s gaze softened for a brief moment, a shadow of pity flickering across his face. “If this is what I think it is…”

Eric didn’t press any further, but as you moved toward the exit, his words lingered in your mind, haunting and unshakeable. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky, you didn’t know.

And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

—

As the four of you trudged out of the Hydra base, John caught up next to Bucky with a skeptical glance. His breath hung in clouds around them in the night air, but he ignored the cold, eyes narrowed on Bucky’s calm, steady pace.

"Alright, Barnes," he muttered, keeping his voice low so you and Eric wouldn’t hear. "You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on? Did you get a new serum or something?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb,” John snapped, frustration creeping into his tone. “I’m not blind. You’re faster. Stronger. You and..." He glanced in your direction before lowering his voice even more. "You both are."

Bucky shrugged, “Guess I’ve been working out,” he replied coolly, brushing John off with the kind of indifference that only seemed to make him angrier.

“That’s not funny.” John’s frustration was barely concealed.

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, watching as you spoke quietly with Eric up ahead. 

“I told you, Walker,” he brushed off, “maybe you’re just getting slow.

—

The safe house was dark and quiet, a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

You barely had time to breathe before Bucky’s hand wrapped around your arm. He guided you into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Bucky’s lifted you to sit on the edge of the sink, his eyes taking in the blood on your shoulder, concern flickering across his face. 

The cut wasn’t closing as quickly as he’d like it to, your shoulder throbbing faintly— so did his. 

“Let me see it,” he said, voice low but intense, as he reached for the hem of your shirt. You started to protest, but he was insistently stubborn.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, but even you could hear the strain in your voice. 

Without another word, he took off your tactical gear, the cool air brushing over the cut on your back. His eyes darted over the wound. 

Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his own shirt. “You know it’ll help you heal faster,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours before he tilted his head, offering his neck to you.

Your lips met his, almost desperate. You were satisfying a hunger as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair, your nails grazing his skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Then, slowly, you angled his neck.

You could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, as you pressed soft, lingering kisses on his skin. 

Finally, you bit down.

A euphoric thrill coursed through you as his blood flowed into your mouth, filling you with a euphoric sensation that spread through every nerve, igniting something primal within both of you.

Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. His breaths came faster as he tilted his head back, a low, almost pleading sound escaping him. Each swallow of his blood was a pleasure so vast it felt spiritual. His fingers tangled in your hair, nails digging into your skin.

The moment was so intense that neither of you heard the door creak open.

“What the fuck…” John’s voice was harsh and full of shock.

You jerked back, catching John’s wide eyes. He took in the scene— your mouth still stained with Bucky’s blood, his arm around your waist. His confusion morphed into anger. “Are you… drinking his blood?”

Eric was right behind him, his rage thunderous. For a moment, he looked between you and Bucky, piecing it together with a calm that was worse than John’s horror. 

“This is what you call animal blood,” Eric said in a quiet accusation.

You glanced at Bucky, whose face had gone rigid. He didn’t pull away from you, his hand still resting protectively on your waist.

“I… I can explain,” you started, but even you weren’t sure what to say.

Eric’s gaze shifted from you to Bucky, a flicker of recognition in his eyes that turned grim. He muttered under his breath, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

-to be continued(?)

shall I make a part 3 or turn it into a series?

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, some fluff, some angst, mommy kink, edging, handjob, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: here are parts one, two, and three to me & u. 💖 thanks for being patient with me while i took so long to get this out, and there will be a part five to this story in the near future.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while spending time with matt, you start to find out more about his past, which leads to your first disagreement with one another.

me & u part four

"What if I came and cleaned it up for you with my mouth?" You said in a sultry tone through the phone. You smirked at Matt through the window after you watched him finish using his new sex toy, but he'd already grabbed an old t-shirt and was wiping up the mess he made.

"I'll tell you what. You can clean up the next one," he said in a breathy voice on the other end of the line. "I'd be honored," you replied, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you were feeling.

"I'd love it if you came over, though. My dad's gone," Matt bit his lip. "What are we gonna do?" You asked him. "Anything you want," he responded. "Anything?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone. "Within reason," Matt chuckled at how dirty-minded you were.

"I'll be over soon," you replied, hanging up the phone and hurrying over to the neighbor boy's house. You let yourself in through Matt's front door, taking in all of the changes that had taken place since you'd last been over.

There were actually kitchen appliances on the counters and portraits on the wall of Matt in his younger years. You smiled, running your fingers along the frames and the glass before making your way up the staircase.

You turned the door knob to Matt's room, and as you swung open the door, he was pulling his zipper closed and still trying to catch his breath. He looked up at you and smiled. "So, what do you think of your new fleshlight?" You teased Matt.

"I think you know what I think," Matt playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you leaned up against his door frame and looked him up and down. "Like is an understatement," he said, taking his toy to his bathroom to rinse it out. "Your house is coming together nicely," you called to him from his bedroom as your eyes glossed over the new additions to his space.

"Thanks. My dad and I had a lot of time to unpack today," Matt called back to you. You sifted through a few vinyls Matt had stored on a shelf beneath his record player. "I didn't know you were a music fan," you told him. "I mean, who doesn't love music?" Matt asked, coming back into the room and studying the way you ran your dainty fingers across his music collection.

"Yeah, but you listen to really good music," you replied, taking a Led Zeppelin album off of the shelf and slipping the record into the player. Traveling Riverside Blues came through clearly on the speaker. "What can I say? I have my dad's taste," he shrugged. You picked up Matt's journal off his desk and started flitting through the pages.

"May I?" You asked, glancing up at him. "I mean, I just came on the phone with you. I don't see why you can't read my journal," Matt chuckled and reached around to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

There was nothing written for the day the two of you had met, but there was an entry written for the day after. "I met my new neighbor yesterday. She's kind of a slut," your jaw dropped as you read the words on the page and peered up to look at Matt.

"Look, I know that wasn't the nicest way to put it," Matt said, walking towards you, prepared to de-escalate your anger. "Don't worry. It turns me on to be called that," your shocked expression turned to a smirk, and you continued reading the next sentence.

"She's really hot, and she seems to know what she wants. I like that about her. She's nothing like May. Who's May?" You wondered, glancing up from the leather book again. "My ex-girlfriend," Matt timidly told you.

"I didn't know you had dated anyone before," you relayed in a surprised tone. "We dated for about three years, but she's the only girlfriend I've ever had," Matt admitted to you. "Three years? Why'd you guys break up?" You wondered aloud.

There was a moment of silence before Matt answered you. "We ended things because I moved away," Matt said with a somber tone in his voice. Your stomach dropped. "So you guys broke up recently," you replied, fiddling with the leather cover. "Yeah, fairly recently," Matt said.

"So, you're not over her yet? I mean, it would be crazy if you were. It was a three-year long relationship that ended recently," You insinuated, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes.

"I mean, I don't even know what it means to get over someone. I've never had to do it before," Matt said defensively. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" You narrowed your gaze at him.

"It didn't come up, and I was waiting until the right time to tell you," he answered you. "Do you still love her?" You wondered with a hurt look on your face, and Matt stood silently, staring at you for a moment.

You shut off the record player. "It's a simple question, Matthew. Are you still in love with her?" You interrogated him with a bit of anger in your tone now, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We ended things a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to say no?" Matt asked, raising the volume of voice. "Do you guys still talk?" You wondered, taking a step closer to him.

"She texted me last night and asked me how I liked my new house. I was too high to answer her, but I texted her back this morning," Matt hesitantly admitted, shrugging his shoulder and sticking his hands in his pockets.

You didn't want Matt to see you cry, so you spun around without saying another word, bounded down the stairs, and ran out the front door. You headed for your backyard to be alone and collect your thoughts, climbing up the ladder to your treehouse as hot tears started falling from your eyes.

You knew that Matt and May weren't together anymore, but it was the fact that he still had leftover feelings for a girl he'd probably still be dating if he lived in the same state as her. Not only was he still in love with another girl, but a girl that, in his words, was very different from you.

On top of it all, you had always struggled with jealousy in relationships. Your mind raced through the worst-case scenarios. What would happen if Matt went back to visit May, or what if she traveled here to visit him? You wondered if it would change the way he felt about you.

You were wiping your tears with the back of your hand and sniffling when Matt poked his head up from under the treehouse as he followed you up the ladder. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he timidly said, looking at you with his big, blue eyes. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

You wanted to shout at him and tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to say anything to hurt him to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to hide behind your tough facade, secretly afraid to be vulnerable with him, but you couldn't look at him and imagine being mean to him or raising your voice at him.

"I don't want you to be in love with May," you blurted out as you started to sob again. Matt climbed into the shelter with you, his journal in hand, placing it in his lap as he sat beside you, wiping away your tears.

"It's just still fresh. That's all. It was three years, and the reason we broke up was beyond our control, but it doesn't make sense for us to be together, and now that I've met you.." Matt trailed off, rubbing your back.

"Since you met me, what?" You asked softly, lifting your head. "Well, you didn't even finish the journal entry, silly." Matt handed you his leather notebook, and despite your hesitancy to read on and hurt your own feelings worse, you opened it back up to the page you left off on.

"She's nothing like May. The more time I spend around her, the more I realize things I didn't really like about May and my relationship with her. Like how passive she was, how she always kept me guessing about how she felt about me, and the way she never disagreed with anything I said or challenged any of my beliefs," you read aloud.

"Wait, you actually like that I'm disagreeable and direct?" You asked, peering up at him, surprised because those were usually the qualities people criticized you for. "Yeah, those are my favorite things about you. It's refreshing to meet someone like you," Matt told you, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry I stormed off," you apologized. "I'm not upset," Matt assured you. "I just wasn't sure whether I was supposed to follow you or not."

You two sat silently for a few moments, just staring into each other's eyes, and the magnetic force between you and Matt pulled you each closer to one another until your lips were locked. The chemistry between you both when you'd kiss was undeniable, and you could each confirm that you felt it through your body language in the way your hands would wander, never being able to pull each other close enough.

"Do you wanna get high and go lay on your floor and Iisten to your records?" You asked him, looking into his blue eyes and caressing his face once you pulled back from the kiss. "Sure, but I'm only taking one hit," Matt looked at you, wide-eyed and smiling.

"That's really all you need," you smiled back at him, reaching for your stash and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of a plastic bag. You lit it up, exhaling smoke and watching it dissipate into the air.

"Do you wanna shotgun kiss again?" You asked Matt. "Shotgun kiss?" He reiterated in a confused tone. "Yeah, it's where I take a hit, and then we kiss, and I blow it into your mouth," you smirked at him. He nodded at you, leaning in as you took a drag, the cherry end of the joint glowing and crackling as you gently pulled from it.

Your lips softly brushed up against Matt's, blowing out the weed smoke as he breathed in and gave him a couple of pecks before pulling away. He exhaled, expelling the wispy, grey smoke from his lungs. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Matt laughed in between coughs.

You took a few more hits while you silently stared at the cute boy beside you. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy and the whites of his eyes turned a bit red. "Let's go check out your record collection," you suggested to Matt, nudging him in the arm and putting out the joint.

The two of you descended the ladder as the sun sank lower below the horizon, leaving behind a bright orange sky in its wake. You followed Matt's silhouette out your gate and back over the path that led to his house.

You found yourself lying on Matt's giant rug in the middle of his room while he laid his head next to yours but had his feet pointed in the opposite direction. You both stared up at the ceiling as Riders on the Storm by The Doors came through over the speaker of the record player, sounding textured and crisp.

"Can I stay the night here?" You asked Matt, peering over at him and his glazed over expression. "I don't see why not," Matt shrugged, looking at you wide-eyed. He did want you to stay the night, but he was afraid that you had certain sexual expectations about how the night would go.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you yet," Matt blurted out, searching your expression for a reaction and wondering if he was being too presumptuous by saying that. "That's okay. I understand. Could we maybe do other stuff?" You nibbled on your lip, looking at him hungrily. "I think I'd be okay with that," Matt nervously replied, nodding at you timidly.

The two of you enjoyed your highs a bit longer as The Doors' L.A. Woman album played through its track list until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open. Matt switched off the light, and you, the record player.

The two of you climbed into Matt's bed, stripping down into your underwear, nestling under the covers, and cuddling. Matt couldn't help but to get hard with your half-naked body curled up so closely to his with your nose nuzzled into his neck.

You guys heard Matt's dad pull up in his loud, rust-colored pickup truck, casting shadows across the bedroom as the headlights danced through the window. It's not that Matt wasn't allowed to have girls sleep over, but he certainly didn't think his father would approve of it, so the two of you silently decided to keep your staying the night a secret.

A couple hours later, you woke up to some movement in the bed. You figured Matt must have been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. You listened a little more closely, and you heard soft noises and labored breathing coming from him.

It wasn't long after Matt's dad came in through the door that he trudged up the stairs and made his way into his bathroom, turning on the shower and getting ready for bed. You and Matt laid in the dark, the only bit of light pouring into the room from a nearby street lamp, and you fell asleep shortly after in each other's arms.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you caught a glimpse of desire on his face while he grinded against his pillow, desperate for relief. You watched quietly for a few minutes as he rutted into his blankets and listened as your name faintly fell from his lips. You smirked at how needy he was being.

"Need some help?" Your voice broke through his breathy whimpers. "What?" He asked, immediately stopping and acting like he'd just woken up. "Help me with what? I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, you naughty boy. Are you lying to me right now?" You moved closer to him, speaking in a low whisper while you tenderly grabbed him by his jaw. "Wanna try that again, hmm? You gonna tell me you weren't just humping your pillow?" You asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry, mommy. It's so hard. It hurts," he whined in a bratty tone. You started slowly kissing Matt's neck, and you felt his body tighten against you. "I'm gonna make it feel all better," you moaned against his ear.

"My dad's asleep in the next room," Matt said quietly before letting out a stifled moan. "Makes it more hot that way, doesn't it? When it's a secret? When you have to keep your volume low? When it's risky and you could be caught if you're too loud?" You cooed, gently brushing your fingers over the fabric of his underwear, exciting him even further.

"Mmm. I dont know," he softly purred as you caressed his member. "I'll stop if you want me to. You know, so your dad doesn't hear us," you teased, whispering into his ear and delicately touching your lips to his ear lobe before kissing it. "No. Please. Keep going," he moaned quietly.

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his boxers and started running your fingers along his length while your lips moved back down to his neck. You could feel each of his veins as you lightly grazed him, testing how much teasing he could take.

He kept anticipating you wrapping your fingers around his thickness and sighing every time you didn't. "Why are you teasing so much?" He softly whimpered. You gave him a gentle squeeze, quietly chuckling at his neediness.

Finally, with his cock in your grip, you started to move your hand up and down, stroking his length while soft, delicate whimpers poured from his lips. "How do you like that, baby?" You asked in a voice just barely louder than a whisper.

"I love it, mommy. Please don't stop," he begged in a hushed volume. "Good boy," you cooed back as you started to pick up the pace a bit. "You can't finish until I tell you to," you added at the end.

He let out a long sigh. "But mommy. I'm already so close," he quietly cried. "Then you'd better get ahold of yourself," you responded in a sultry moan. He nodded at you obediently.

You couldn't tell how big he was because it was dark in the room, and you were jerking him off under his blanket, but it felt bigger than average. You noted that your fingers struggled to wrap around his girth, and your strokes felt long as you pumped his length back and forth. You couldn't wait until the day you'd get to see it.

You felt a wet warmth between your legs as you listened to the boy whimper beneath you while you continued sucking on his neck. "Mommy, please," he whispered. "Please, what?" You softly cooed against his hot skin.

"Please let me cum," he said in a strangled moan. "Not yet, baby." You smirked as you brushed your thumb over the tip, spreading around his pre-cum and eliciting more clear liquid from his sensitive slit.

"Mommy," he desperately whined, struggling to keep his volume down. "Sh, sh, sh," you whispered back into his ear while you stroked him mercilessly, admiring his facial expression that was saturated with pleasure in the dim, cool light offered by the street lamp.

His eyebrows were brought together, causing a little wrinkle between them, and his eyes were tightly closed. He caught his lip between his teeth in an attempt to muffle his pleasured sounds, which he did poorly.

You slowed down, taunting him some more. "No more teasing," Matt said in a breathy voice. "Oh. Please, mommy. Mmm. Need to - oh - need to cum so bad," Matt managed to get out in a series of broken moans and stifled whimpers.

You sped the pace back up for him, covering every inch of his cock, sending ripples of satisfaction through his body. "Please," he said once more. "Wait," you told him in a quiet, stern voice. He nodded at you with a submissive expression on his face.

You slowed down again, drawing out the process, really making him beg for it. He huffed in response. "If you wanna get an attitude with me, I'll stop and leave you unfinished," you replied, slowing the pace of your strokes.

"Mommy, please. I'm sorry. I won't get an attitude," he weakly answered, gripping your wrist to keep you from removing your hand from his dick. "Then be a good boy for mommy, okay?" You whispered, taking your free hand and tilting Matt's chin so that he was looking at you. He nodded, releasing his grasp on you.

You pumped back and forth again, fisting his cock while he started writhing under your control. "Good boy. You're doing such a good job," you cooed. Your name passed through his lips a few more times along with a few oohs and aahs.

"Mommy, please," Matt sobbed. You ignored his pleas, continuing your strokes, paying special attention to the head every time you brushed against it.

You felt him twitch against your palm, his dick begging for sweet release. Matt was so close to the edge, graciously trying to hold out just for you, but he wasn't used to waiting to cum or asking for permission to finish, but he was discovering how much he liked it.

He was so grateful when these next words left your mouth because he didn't know how much more he could take.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for mommy?" You whispered into his ear before you went back to kissing his neck. "Yes, mommy," he pathetically whined. He'd been waiting.

You saw the muscles in his face tighten in the dim light as his cock pulsated in your hand, blowing his load into your palm. His orgasm lasted several seconds due to how much you'd edged him, and he emitted a few guttural groans before a smile overcame his expression.

"Good boy," you whispered once more, kissing his forehead. He looked up at you breathlessly with his big, blue eyes and a satisfied grin on his face.

You got up and wandered into Matt's bathroom to clean the evidence off your hands, and once you got back into Matt's bed, the two of you wrapped yourselves up in each other.

You woke up early on Wednesday to the sound of the birds chirping and the morning sun peeking in through Matt's window as it came up over the hills.

You drifted back off to sleep, your legs intertwined with his and your head buried into his chest while you listened to the sound of his slowing heartbeat as his vitals returned to normal after his climax. Soon, you and Matt were both soundly asleep again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You let out a big yawn, and you heard the cute boy beside you begin to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and your image became clearer as he adjusted to the change in lighting.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you said in a soft murmur. "Good morning, baby. You're up early," he mumbled back in his sexy morning voice. "I know. I have to work today," you told him, climbing out of bed and putting back on the clothes you'd wandered out of last night.

Matt reached for you with a pouty look on his face when he realized he wasn't going to get to see you until after your shift. You leaned in and kissed him. "How do you usually get to work?" Matt wondered out loud.

"I usually just walk. It's only a few blocks," you shrugged. "If you get back in this bed and cuddle with me for ten more minutes, I'll take you to work in the truck," Matt smiled up at you. "Deal," you replied, climbing back into bed and wrapping your arms around Matt for a few minutes longer.

"If you want to go run over to your place and get dressed for work, I'll go start up the truck," Matt offered, grinning at you. "That would be really sweet of you," you softly replied. The two of you left Matt's room, tiptoeing down the stairs and trying to stay as quiet as possible to keep from waking Matt's dad and blowing your little secret.

All your efforts were for naught when you and Matt made your way into the kitchen, realizing Matt's dad was already awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his Bible, and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Oh, good morning. I didn't realize you stayed over last night," his dad said, peering up at you both from the page, his gaze dancing between you and Matt. "Morning, Mr. Sturniolo," you timidly said, avoiding addressing the sleepover.

"Uh, hi Dad," Matt responded, reaching behind his head and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm gonna take the truck to go drop my friend off at work really quick," Matt said, picking the keys up off the counter.

"Why don't I come with you guys? So I can learn a little more about your friend here?" Matt's dad asked, getting up from his seat at the table and extending his arm for Matt to hand over the keys.

Matt gulped, knowing that on top of figuring out you had stayed the night, now he was also going to know what you did for work. He reluctantly forked over the keys. "I'll meet you guys at the truck in about a half hour," you said, giving Matt a quick, awkward side hug.

You couldn't get out of the situation quickly enough.

The whole time you were showering, changing into clean clothes, and brushing your hair and your teeth, you were dreading how awkward the drive over was going to be. You resented that this was only your second interaction with Matt's dad, who you really wanted to like you and approve of you.

You were afraid it would go how any other relationship you'd had went. Their parents would either outwardly not like you, judging you based on all the most scandalous things about your personality and not bothering to get to know the other aspects of you better.

Or worse, the parents would pretend to like you to your face and then would badmouth you to your partner in private, telling them how much better they could be doing and how bad of an influence you are.

You braced yourself for it all as you sauntered out the door and headed for the orange truck.

"You ready?" Matt asked as he opened the door for you. You nodded and nestled in between the two men as Matt climbed into the truck behind you.

"So, what do you do for work?" Matt's dad asked you, pulling out of the driveway. "I work in retail. It's this way," you said, trying to avoid giving too much detail about your job and pointing in the direction of the road he needed to take.

"What do your parents do for work?" His dad wondered. "My mom is a flight attendant, and my dad was a pilot, but now he works in air traffic," you responded.

"Ah, so they work in similar fields," Matt's dad nodded. "Yeah, they met at work. Fun fact, I was actually conceived on a plane," you told them both. "Shit. Sorry. That was an overshare," you said, putting your palm over your mouth once you realized you'd just sworn in front of Matt's very Christian dad.

He didn't laugh or find your quirkiness charming. Matt looked at you wide-eyed, knowing your humor wasn't going to land well with his father.

You continued giving him directions to your retail job, which wasn't totally a lie, and he cleared his throat and gave Matt a look when the three of you pulled into the parking lot of a sex shop. Matt stepped out of the truck to let you out.

"Well, this has been fun," you said sarcastically, feeling the thick tension in the air as your feet hit the pavement. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sturniolo. Matt, I'll call you on my lunch break," you told him, leaning in and giving him a tender peck on the lips.

You could feel how warm and red your face was as you turned around and headed for the front door of your job. Your coworker, Carly was at the register, giving you an inquisitive look and watching the scene play out.

"Did your cute neighbor boy take you to work?" She asked, giving Matt a little subtle wave, and he waved back, giving Carly a shy smile.

"Yeah, and his very Christian father after he caught me sleeping over. Oh, and he didn't know I worked in the adult entertainment industry until about a minute ago," you added, looking at Carly with a deer in headlights look.

"Oh. That sounds like a very awkward morning," she said, trying to contain her laugher. "It's fine. You can laugh. It is comical, really. I just hope he's not in the truck, telling Matt that I'm a harlot and trying to convince him to stop hanging out with me," you expressed to Carly, tears forming in your eyes.

Her face softened, and she took on an expression of pity. "I'm so sorry. Come here. You know, no matter what his dad says about you, I'm sure Matt's still gonna like you," she said, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back while she comforted you. You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye before it had a chance to fall. "Thank you for saying that."

Meanwhile, in the rusty-colored Dodge Dakota, your worst fears were unfolding. "Matt, what on earth are you thinking? Running around with a girl like that?" He asked angrily as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dad-" Matt started to say, but the older man cut him off. "She works at a place called Temptations. You don't see anything wrong with that? You think God wants you canoodling with a girl like that," he replied, giving Matt a somber look.

"A girl like that? What does that even mean? There's so much more to her than that," Matt defended you, raising his voice a bit. "Son, just be careful. Girls like that are trouble. I don't know if this is some kind of overcorrection because you're upset about May-" Matt's dad started.

"How dare you bring up May?" Matt glared at his father. "I'm just saying, son. You and May made sense together," his dad replied, shrugging. "Actually, dad. We didn't. May and I stayed together for so long because neither one of us wanted to admit we were incompatible," Matt scoffed. "What?" Matt's dad asked, completely taken aback by his kid's comment.

Matt and May's relationship was picture perfect on the outside. They didn't argue, they didn't complain about one another to their friends and families, and everyone envied what they had. Everyone thought they'd be together forever, including the two of them.

"I know this new girl is completely different from May. She's not a Christian. She's loud and domineering. She's aggressive, and she's overbearing. And she's honest. Maybe even too honest. She always says what's on her mind even if other people aren't going to like it. And I don't love her despite those qualities. I love her because of those qualities," Matt huffed, silencing his dad.

The two men sat quietly beside each other in the truck, mulling over what the other had said. Matt's dad was a lot of things, but unsupportive wasn't one of them.

A few more moments passed before his father finally spoke up. "Fine. Invite her over for dinner. I want to get to know the girl you love."

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[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Light angst, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, spitting/spit kink, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, low key breed kink, toxic attraction, lots of emotions, lots of sex. OOC.

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Nine - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Ten

“Riding bareback, you are slutty.” Satoru teases as you ride the white horse next to him, you both chose to ride horses today rather than the carriage. You stick your tongue out, earning his laugh.

“Oh, you’re just mad I’m better at riding than you.”

“You certainly look sexy riding it. Wonder how you’d ride me?” You gasp now, and he chuckles, clicking his boots gently and nudging his black horse on, you nudge yours as well, by rubbing her neck, whispering to her.

“Let’s kick his ass, darling Snow.” She neighs softly, as you squeeze your thighs around her, and giggle as she sets off, passing Satoru in moments.

“Hey now! Brats.” Your hair is flying in a wave behind you, the wind blowing through your face, and in these moments it’s difficult to remember Satoru was terrible before, that you’re not likely going to be together for long.

How easy it is to forget.

That morning he’d had coffee ready for you, and surprised you with a brand new saddle for your pretty horse. You had melted at that gesture, sure he was terrible before, sure you remembered it, but you appreciated what he was doing now. Satoru had helped you set it all up, and before that you all had brought baskets together for the village, medicines and herbs to help.

He was heavily involved in it all, he was not skimping on his duties, and now as you both trot along, and he looks at you so intensely, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, you’re enamored against your own judgment. You’ve never felt this, could it be from last night? Could it be physical? Or was it… 

More.

He had not touched you today aside from helping you up your horse, yet even that moment had you a flustered mess, as if you were courting as a young girl, those little moments with Suguru long ago, and even with Satoru originally. You remember he was a little distant but you felt giddy as he would promenade with you, getting so thrilled from his flowers he’d bring.

You frequently wonder even more now how things could have been if he had not chosen this path, this heartbreaking path that has irrevocably changed you, you are not and never will be the same. Satoru had changed everything you once knew, those lofty dreams you had were crushed when you had your wedding night, only for you to feel so much last night it shattered anything.

You think upon sweet Nanami, how you’ve left him heartbroken and had not truly meant to, you would have been content with Nanami, you just felt it was wrong to lead him to believe your feelings were at that level. His face now in your head breaks your heart, you wish you had not hurt him so.

Physically just kissing Satoru eclipsed anything you’d done with Nanami at all, even when those kisses were brutal and toxic, when he’d smacked and choked you, it did things to you none of Nanami’s careful, skilled touch could. That made you feel even worse, Nanami had not trusted you for good reason, but how could you tell your… husband… no when your entire being craved it?

Nanami was better off without you.

He’d have been better off without you ever talking to him, ever sharing your pain with him, and he wanted to save you so badly from yourself, and you bitterly know you’re just a disappointment to him. It was as if you disappointed everyone at times, except…

“Deep in thought, Princess?” Satoru asks, making you sigh, looking over at him, your hands gently holding the reins under your silk gloves.

“Indeed.”

“Thinking of your baker?”

“I destroyed him, Satoru.” You whisper, and he frowns then, nudging his horse a little closer, to fall into step with you, a hand reaching to touch your thigh, burning you with his touch.

“Destroyed him?” He asks, softly, instead of getting angry you’re thinking of Nanami. It surprises you,  so different from how Nanami reacted, it was as if Satoru knew that it hurt you and did not mind listening, like he just accepts that it did happen.

It oddly brings you more comfort knowing you can speak of such things, though you do not want to hurt Satoru either. Did not want to hurt anyone anymore.

“He begged me to stay, and I fully turned him down. He must hate me now, I would not blame him.”

He clears his throat, hands gripping just a little tighter now, heating you up from the touch. “Why did you turn him down?”

You look at him, your hand touching his, biting your lower lip as your horses trot slowly next to each other. “My feelings were no match for his, how could I let him believe they were? It would be wrong. But I know he loved me.”

“Did he really know you, though…”

“What, are you saying if he did, he wouldn’t?”

“No, bratty girl. I just wonder, does he know how mean you are? How ridiculously snarky?”

“Fuck off, Satoru.” You laugh though, and he smirks.

“He dodged a bullet with you- ow!” You smack the fuck out of him, and he feigns pain now, laughing softly. “No, let me be serious, of course he fell in love quickly, especially… making love to you, you’re so beautiful, you’re smart, those sounds you make? How you feel… yes, I believe anyone would.”

His words bring vivid memories of last night to your mind, of him inside of you, so deep, you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you began. Fuck.

“We should not speak of these things.” You say, looking away nervously, at the rolling green hill, the village coming into view.

“Why not?”

“Because we were unfaithful-”

“In a marriage we were forced into. And I regret it, surely, all of it, but I do not think you should judge yourself so harshly.”

You look at him carefully. “You’re being kind.”

“Is it so odd?”

“It’ll take getting used to. I suppose I just feel terrible for coming into his life, and for him loving me when I could not return it.”

“Do you know what love is, little Princess?” You look at him seriously then, shaking your head. “Then how do you know you did not?”

You brush your fingers down the back of his hand now. “He explained this feeling, where he could not bear to be without me, and I’m afraid I did not share that. That he had fallen so deeply, but for me it was a comfort, a joy, something pleasurable. Perhaps like your…”

“They’re not even that. They were just physical, their personalities honestly annoyed me. They’re simple I guess.”

“You chose that. Intimidated by smart girls?”

“Terrified of you.” You meet his smile, finally easing your hand off his, sighing. “Why do that? I love holding your hand.”

“We are too comfortable. Too happy. We should not be so.”

His expression hardens, he sits up more on top of his horse, back straightening. “So continue in the misery?”

“No! But… it hurts more, knowing this is how it could have always been. A beautiful relationship.” Your eyes meet, and he sways his head, but you carry on, leaving him to watch you. “Bet I’ll beat you!”

“Nah, I’ll win.” He rushes to you now, and fuck if you don’t enjoy him, laughing as he starts beating you in the race, and you feel an odd lightness you have never felt, even before him.

What is this feeling?

“They’re bootiful, Duchess!” Your sweet girl from yesterday cooes to you, her mother had returned your tiara even though you tried to let her keep it, so you have decided to make all the girls that have gathered crowns of twigs and flowers. Little crowns of white and purple flowers are sitting atop their heads, all but the last little girl you’re finishing up.

Satoru is dealing with business matters, while you have delivered the medicines and the herbs, agreeing to meet back up. He’s riding his horse and yours is right next to him in step, he’s holding the reins, and fuck if Satoru Gojo does not look sexy riding a horse. Especially in his dark blue riding gear and this top hat covering his snowy hair, that still peeks through.

You may or may not be eyeing his entire tall, lithe body when he hops down with ease, his toned legs starkly apparent in the light tan riding breeches he’s wearing, it’s clear he’s quite an equestrian. He smiles over at you, what a mess you must look like, knees in the field, your hair is loose around your shoulders, skirt covered in dirt, you certainly are not very ladylike right now.

“And what have we here, so many princesses!” He says then, as the little girls run up to him.

“Duchess made them!” They all shout nearly at once, and you laugh softly, feeling your bare hands so sore now, the sticks are snapping and smacking at you in places, but they turned out so good! And the kids smiling makes you so happy you cannot take it.

“She’s so skilled, look at this craftsmanship!” He says enthusiastically, with a wink shot your way. “Say, would you all like to pet her horse?”

“Yes please!” They all start petting Snow, Satoru’s horse wants nothing to do with them, arrogantly having his head in the air. You can’t stop the smile decorating your face, nor the warmth in your heart at the scene.

“Arrogant like his owner.” You tease as he comes closer, you’re down to the last tiara to be made finally.

“Are you talking shit, bratty girl?” You duck your head as he walks toward you, sighing now. “Aren’t you a vision?”

“I’m a mess!”

“No, you’re… a corny poet could put it correctly. I’m afraid beautiful is all I can come up with.” He leans down, studying you carefully. “In your element.”

You tilt your head, as he brushes your messy hair back gently. “Well thank you, but are you saying my element is dirt?”

“It certainly is.”

“Hey now… ugh, ow!” You look to your hands now, kneeling on the soft bed of grass, realizing you have another splinter from the twigs. Satoru looks at you, brows together, coming to kneel down in his fancy suit, surprising you when he takes your hand carefully.

“No more twigs, you’ll ruin these pretty hands.” You snort then, blowing a tuft of hair that’s fallen in front of your face.

“Can hands even be pretty?”

“Yours are. Despite the stubby fingers.”

“Hey!” He chuckles then, handing the little girl her tiara now, placing it on her head carefully with a bow. Your breath catches then, as you see this silly, goofy side of Duke Gojo, was this who he was before?

“Thank ye, yer Grace!” The girl says, running off now, and Satoru helps you up to stand, looking at your hand carefully.

“It’ll be fine until we get home, Duke. Ah!” He gently runs a fingertip along your palm.

“You have three splinters, tch. You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Oh don’t baby me, I’m a big girl.” You stick out your tongue, earning a glare from his pretty blue eyes.

“Yer Grace, please come inside, I have tweezers and antiseptic.” One of the ladies says now, looking at the Duke nervously. “It would be right cramped for a Duke and Duchess, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense, we appreciate it.” Satoru says, his pouty pink lips turned up at the corners. You hate how your heart falters, at how sweet his smile is, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so, enrapturing you.

“Come on then, ye two, ah to have royalty in my humble home!” You follow Satoru inside the home then, a little cabin with a thatched roof, she sits you on the bed then, a little straw bed, you sit down and peek around, you notice how quaint and cute the home is.

“Oh it’s so lovely.” You say, and she blushes, shaking her head.

“Indeed not, yer Grace. Would you like me to assist?” She asks Satoru, and he shakes his head.

“No, I had enough scrapes as a boy with my friends to know how to remove splinters.” You’re surprised, you had pegged Duke Gojo for someone who really did not know how to do things like that, perhaps you have a lot you’re curious to know, before this month is up.

Why does the month ending hurt to think of?

“I’ll give ye both some privacy.” She walks out, leaving you both alone in the cozy little home.

Satoru carefully puts your hand in his lap now, gently wiping it with a washcloth that’s nice and warm. You study his face as he studies your hand carefully, his thin white brows drawn together, lips pursed just a bit, snowy lashes lowered so that you could not see the pretty blue of his eyes. He peeks at you for a moment, making you blush at getting caught staring.

“Am I so pretty to look at?” He asks with a raised brow, plucking a splinter out now, you hiss a bit.

“You are pretty and cruel, so merciless with your tweezing!” You say with a glare, earning another chuckle from him.

“Two more. Keep distracted, think of something nice. Like… hmm, cumming all over my mouth last night?”

You gasp. “Ah!” He yanks another, smirking now, and you scoff, but your body overheats, at how he’s gently gripping your wrist, sliding a thumb up along the thin veins of your inner wrist now. “Why would I think of that?”

“You tell me, you have goosebumps on your breasts, your hips are shifting, a blush decorating your cheeks. Are you thinking of it?” He whispers, leaning close, and your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“You would be the most slutty doctor.” He laughs then, genuinely, and it’s so bright you laugh as well.

“I probably would be, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d travel the world and sleep with every woman- oof!” He yanks the last splinter out, still laughing a bit, his broad shoulders shaking with it.

“You are so funny, I…” He blinks a bit then, clearing his throat. “I guess I did not know someone could make me laugh so much, aside from Suguru.”

“He is also quite funny, isn’t he?”

“You really kissed him, huh?” You flush again, sighing. “You do not have to explain it if you don’t want to.”

“Truly?” He nods, now leading you to the little sink, where he washes your hand carefully, just bits of blood from pulling them out.

“I deserve anything you’ve done and worse.” You hear it, his hatred of himself, and it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I will explain. It was that night when you had brought Catherine to dinner. I had a panic attack, after the um… tightening the corset comments.” You whisper, looking down now where he holds your hand, feeling emotions catch in your throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You looked perfect that night.” His voice is hoarse as he dries your hand carefully inside the little cabin, and when you look up you see he is sincere, see the hurt on his face.

“Yes I… it hurt me, it triggered things that I’ve tried to fight from my own mother, and my grandmother before her. To barely eat, to the point of feeling faint, to keep my corset so tight I can’t breathe, all to be a ‘delicate lady’.” Your memories are bitter in your throat.

“That is cruel. You’re already a petite girl. Even so, to push yourself that far… it’s not okay, especially if you wish for children.”

“I know. Well you did shove those scones in my face, so we are all good now.” He smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“So Suguru kissed you after that night?”

“He followed me out, I was a disaster, I do not think he meant it other than some sort of… comfort. It’s hard to explain. To make me feel desired, attractive, when I felt so very…” You blink then, sucking in a breath to prevent your tears. Satoru is gently rubbing ointment on your hands now, staring at your palm carefully.

“I made you feel…”

“Ugly. Hideous.”

He shuts his eyes, two lines between his brows forming. “It was never so. It was I who was being hideous.” He brings your hand to his lips now, kissing each spot gently, wrecking your resolve, enhancing every feeling as you both open up more to each other. “You should not forgive that.”

“I know. But you feel remorse-”

“I remember you dropping that spoon, the clatter it made along with your pretty face, fallen. I felt so horrible, I tried to apologize, but I was still a piece of shit, and it was so half assed.”

“It was. But it’s behind us.”

He laughs without humor. “You are being too forgiving. I honestly understand why he would kiss you, he liked you long before me, and he also wished to make you feel… wanted, that is what you wished for as well.”

You nod a bit. “Yes. He did not go further, he also brought the puppy to cheer me up.”

“Suguru would be good for you. Perhaps you’d have been happy if you were arranged to marry him.” Your lips part then, stepping just a little closer, you hear the children playing outside, here the animals in the distance, chickens clucking, the whirl of the stove, but you also hear your heart race in your ears as you look at him.

“Sure, we would have been, but…”

“What if you could marry him, what if I could try to make it happen?” You exhale, shutting your eyes now, before stepping even closer, so close you inhale his scent into your nostrils, intoxicating you. His hand still holds yours carefully.

“You would do that?” He nods carefully, gulping now, pressing another kiss to your palm.

“I know he would be a good match, he’s of good standing, he would adore you, give you babies. Be a good father, be kind. If anyone had to have you, I would prefer him. I’m sorry your baker… I just cannot see that being good enough financially. You are still of high standing you know, and the scandal will nearly ruin you as is, Suguru could mitigate it, make it some ‘love match’.”

“You’ve thought this through?” He nods then, and you sigh. “You are becoming pretty caring, Satoru.”

“Me caring? Psh.” You smile softly now.

“That is caring, and selfless.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m still selfish, all I can think of is ways to make you want to stay, or ways to make up for the rest of my days if you’d let me. So do not think I’m going out without a fight.”

“I see that. Well, you have some points today, look at you, a whole medical professional.” He snorts, rolling his pretty eyes, and you take a breath, yanking him down by his tie, making him exhale against your lips. “Let me reward you, kind sir, for your care of me.”

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, his free hand yanking you by the waist, slamming his lips on yours, and you kiss him back eagerly, those violent moths in your tummy flitting into delicate butterflies. It’s a different kiss, it’s softer, sweeter, not a prelude to something sexual, it’s sweet and genuine. “How do you always taste so good?”

“I do not know, with my bitter coffee habit.” He laughs softly, cupping your face in his big hands. “It touches me that you look out for me, even if we will not be together. It means you… are trying. I see it.”

“Is it all too late?” He asks softly, and you take a breath to tell him no, it’s not too late, you may be a whole fucking fool but you feel so much with him, not just physical, but how do you open up fully, after everything?

“Satoru-” The door opens back up, and you two step back just one step each, his hand holding yours again as the lady walks back in, smiling at you both.

“So deeply in love, aren’t you both? What a dream!” She says, her hand on her chest, and you shyly look down, as Satoru stares at you.

“Falling deeper every day.” He murmurs, your eyes catch him, and you can’t take it, how easily it flows with him, how much you want to fall right in his arms. You try to compose yourself, curious if it could be true, or if he’s being sweet for the lady. But is it… true?

“Indeed, we are.” You answer softly, earning his little smile, a smile that comes to mean more by the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to tell me?” You ask carefully, in his study later that night, Satoru nods, clearly uncomfortable now, when he pulls out a locket, a thick rose gold one that hangs on a looped chain.

“I owe it to you, to explain this. Her name… was Adelia.” He manages to say, and you tilt your head curiously as you watch the pain on his handsome face.

“Was? Is she…”

“Not dead, though I would prefer that. I’m horrible, I know.”

“Satoru…”

“She’s banished, when I became Duke I sent her far, far away. But she’s alive and kicking, I’m sure, out in France somewhere. I gave her plenty of money for the rest of her life.” He says with a harsh laugh, then he looks at you carefully, taking your hand and looking at it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all, I had a good doctor.” He smiles sadly, then places the locket in your hand, and you open it, gasping.

You look at Satoru then, vulnerable and exhausted, then look back at his locket, at this woman who truly looks exactly like you, to the point it is eerie. It’s almost as if it is you, she surely is some relation or perhaps a long lost sister, the only difference is she’s older than you, and her eyes are different, just a bit. They’re the same color, but there's something cold in them.

“She looks like a twin sister.” You murmur softly, sitting down in the big leather chair Satoru frequently falls asleep in as he pours over his work. He sighs, nodding, leaning against the chair, sitting just at the arm.

“It’s uncanny, is it not?” He murmurs, and you think of him then, with her, and for some reason it makes you sick.

“It’s eerie, certainly. Adelia was her name?”

“Yes. I long ago said I’d never utter her name, but you deserve to know, as for what she did…” He stands then, walking away, pacing the study now, running a hand through his silky hair. You stand as well, walking to the center of the room and stopping him with gentle hands.

“Tell me, please, so that I may understand.” You are pleading softly, and he exhales then, nodding, but you see his jaw tense, feel his emotions rising.

“Long story cut very short, I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen, she was so funny, witty, smart. Unlike anything. I was pathetic for her, spent anything I had, made myself go into debts with my father over the extravagant gifts.” You try to picture Satoru that way, and he notices. “I know it’s a far cry from who I am now.”

“No, I believe I can see you being generous.” You say softly, because the man had literally bought you a horse, and you’ve seen him be very generous with his friends and the staff. It wasn’t out of the realm.

“Generous was an understatement. I let her walk all over me, and thanked her for it. I even knew she had other men, and I’d still beg for her.” You suck in a breath, feeling the hurt, the anger emanating from him.

“Oh.” Is all you manage. “It was disloyal, so you decided to-”

“No, no, I was not disloyal once to her. I only treated you that way.” Satoru chokes on the words, taking several breaths now, as you stand in front of him, the fire crackling in the study, casting shadows of your figures across the walls, flickering flames higher and higher.

“I see.” Is all you can manage. “I suppose I did it as well, and that’s what triggered your reaction?”

“I never should have reacted that way.” He caresses your cheek softly, sighing, leaning lower. “Do not give me excuses for my actions.”

“Not excuses, they are reasons I suppose.”

“Still, even so.” His hand drops then, to your shoulder, resting on one of your puffed sleeves, his long fingers gently touching the fabric. “It’s not that, why I hated you for looking like her, she did something far worse.”

Your brows knit together. “Worse than cheating on you constantly?”

“Yes she… well her and my father…”

You blink then, as it all starts to fall together, Satoru’s fury at his dead father, his fear of having children because he would be just like them, and the unreasonable way he hated you on sight. She couldn’t have…

“She slept with him?” You manage softly, and he nods just a bit, taking several breaths, you gently hold his arms. “Holy fuck.”

“You have such a sailor's tongue.” He says with a little smile, as his eyes glimmer with unshed emotion. “For such a pretty mouth.”

“Satoru, I’m truly sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s no excuse for what I did. But… I hope now, it makes any sense at all. But you never, ever deserved one goddamn thing I did.” He’s looking away now, covering his face, shaking his head. “Nothing I have done to you is okay, I swear I will take it to my fucking grave, the hurt on your face-”

“Satoru.” You gently say, easing his hand down, seeing the glistening of tears on his pale cheek, you swipe it gently, and his hand is delicately holding yours, keeping it there.

“I do not deserve pity or comfort from you, I was terrible. I can’t make up for it, I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this.” His chest heaves now, and you feel your own emotions jolt to life, at his desperation. “And what’s worse, is now I find myself falling for you, and I know I’m not good enough.”

“Falling for me?” You look at him in shock, shaking your head. “Certainly a physical connection-”

“No.” He cuts you off now, bending low, pressing your back against the cherry wood desk of his. Your heart thuds in your chest, as you look up at swirling blue eyes by the fire light of the study, as it casts shadows and planes on his perfect features, features that become dear more and more as you look at them.

“No?” Your voice is a breath.

“No, not just physically. I thought so at first, your beauty outshines hers, you clearly are my type, what a lie that was.”

“Um… clearly.” You manage with a little laugh, and he glares.

“Do not excuse it, do not make light of it, any of it.”

“I am not.”

“But it’s not just physical, today when you were hand twisting fucking crowns for those kids, cutting your pretty hands on those twigs.” He takes one now, running his fingers where little scratches were left, and your breaths come faster and faster. “Yesterday, when you held that little girl. When you lit up and thanked me for that horse. When I saw your true beauty, so deep within.”

“Please… don’t. Don’t say that!” You feel your eyes burn, your throat closing up, as he steals more and more of your heart, wicked fucking Duke Gojo, but he’s serious, while he’s brushing your loose hair back, making your knees weak.

“I can’t help but say it, before you leave me forever.” His voice breaks now, and you’re clinging to his dress shirt, that’s falling loosely over his lithe body. “I love your kind heart, I love your caring nature, fuck everyone in that villiage adores you, everyone adores you. Even my goddamn former mistress, my best friends, they love you.”

You shake your head. “No, I just…”

“And every time I paraded them around, those women, you held your composure, but I know it killed you. I know it did. It hurt you. And I can’t forgive myself for it. For hurting someone so pure and sweet, and pushing you so far, so far you ran into a man’s arms, and I don’t blame you. I don’t.”

“Please don’t. Don’t say all this!”

“Say what, that my heart yearns to see that smile, the one that lights up the entire world?” You choke on your sobs, and he’s swiping at your tears, his own lip trembling as he takes a shaky breath. “That my body burns for your touch, that you haunt my every dream, and every waking moment.” His husky tone nearly breaks you then and there, as your breasts heave up and down with every breath.

“You can’t mean it. You can’t.” You choke out the words, as you feel yourself drawn to him, like he is that all consuming black hole, and you’d be fine getting destroyed if it meant being in his arms.

“I for once am honest, after a month of lies. Feel my heart.” He puts your little hand on his chest, and you feel it, pounding, making you weak, as your eyes lock upon each other.

“It cannot be true, not a word. If you felt that you would have never!”

“I grew to feel it more and more. Now it’s consuming me, whole, I’d let you walk all over me just to feel your goddamn step. I’d let you destroy me just to watch your pretty face as you do. I would do anything to see you smile, to see your face as you feel pleasure, to taste you, to-”

“Fuck, shut up, shut up!” You shove at him now, and he lets you, gulping and staring at you so pleadingly, this six foot plus man who looms so tall, seems so small and fragile. “I hate you more for saying it all! For making me believe it!” You cry out hoarsely, and he lets you smack at him, nodding, just standing there.

“You should hate me, you should never forgive me.” He whispers sullenly, and you hate that you want to forgive him, that you want him to…

“Hold me, please.” You beg softly, and he breaks with you, holding you tightly against his hard body, enwrapping his strong arms around you, as you bury your face against his chest, crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every moment making it up, as much as I can, before you leave.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and you realize then, you don’t want to fucking leave. “I know I have lost you, I know I never had you.”

“Satoru.” You lean up, looking at him now, and he brushes your endless tears with his long fingers, gulping and nodding for you to continue. “I’m not saying I will stay, but I will say… I have not yet made up my mind to leave, either.”

He blinks then, with those teary lashes, sucking in a breath, his blue eyes swirling as they study you. “You haven’t!?”

“No. Not yet. It does not mean I forgive you, or even like you. But it does mean that… I wish to understand you more, to understand this more.” You take his hand, feeling the thrumming energy between you both. “I will give you that chance, the month, to show me who you are, before I decide fully.”

“I thought I had no chance. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.” He whispers, and you take a shaky breath now.

“Well, you are trying, and I see it.”

“It’s not too late?”

“I do not know yet. Do you mean it, what you said, about seeing me, seeing me truly?”

He laughs softly, brushing your hair back tenderly, kissing your forehead, something you never thought Duke Gojo would do. “Oh, Princess, I mean every fucking word. I see your heart and soul, the kindness, but you know what I also see? Your bad mouth, your ability to destroy me with a look, your snappy little remarks.” He says with a little smirk now.

You smile a bit then, and he smiles down at you, pressing you further into the desk, and you feel your body react quickly. “Oh do you enjoy that, the way I wreck you with my words?”

“I’d let you wreck me in every fucking way.” His hand slides up your skirts now, and your breath quickens. “You’re strong, you’re not some simpering little damsel, you could probably crush me, kick my ass.”

You giggle now, then his hands pause on your bare thigh, fingering your garter belt, and your pussy reacts by clenching around nothing, your head falling back, a little sigh escaping your lips. “Kick your ass, you’re too big and tall.”

“You’re a scary little thing, I think you’d kick me in the dick.” You laugh again, and he marvels at it, his thumb making little circles closer to your heat. Your own hands slide up his chest, as he makes you feel more seen than anyone ever has, and how does he see you so well?

“I was sorely tempted after that whore on the table.”

“You and that tablecloth move? Fuck that made me hard.”

“You’re always hard, you slutty man.” Your fingers drift down to his belt, toying with him, giving him a little smile, and he smirks, his free hand cupping your face.

“I would do anything to feel you again, even knowing I do not deserve you. Give anything for you to sit on my face.”

Your tummy clenches, face flushed at the lewd, insane images he brings. “Sit on your face!? I… what!?”

He sighs, kissing you gently, finding you with his fingers finally, moaning softly as he does, you drink up his moans into your mouth. “I’ve had this fantasy of your thighs on either side of my face, pussy dripping on me.”

“Satoru that… sounds insane!”

“You could shut my mouth up, use me how you want. Ride me.” His words destroy you, his touch on your clit makes you moan, and he’s watching you hungrily, lips parted. “Fuck you’re beautiful. So wet, I want it dripping down my face.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” You whisper, but your hips are leaning forward, to more of his touch, Satoru’s lips hover just above yours, and you embarrassingly hear how wet you are when he’s rubbing between your lips.

“You shouldn’t give me anything, but you do, and I’m too selfish and greedy not to drink up every bit of it. Of you.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss so-” You yank him down now, slamming his lips upon yours, he’s grabbing at you desperately, tongue swirling in your mouth, as his fingers find you so hot and eager, soaking him. “I could never kiss another set of lips.”

“Liar.”

“Well, your other set of lips.” He says with a smirk, and you hate it, how charming he is, how handsome, how much you just fucking love him touching you, how much you enjoy him truly. You don’t want to enjoy him, you don’t want to need him, but it is a need, very much, a deep need from every part of you.

“Manwhore.” You say with a scowl, and he’s kissing you once more, biting your lower lip with sharp teeth, making you tremble as your hands now cling to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles move as he fingers your wetness.

“You’re no pure, innocent little thing, are you now?” He raises a brow, and you’re flushed. “How many times?”

You tense a bit, looking up at him. “Twice.”

He blinks now, pausing, his mouth open. “Only twice!?”

“How much did you think? Keep fingering me and shut up, mmm.” He listens to you thank god, this man talks so fucking much, fingering you once more, pressing on that little spongy spot inside you over and over, you’re gasping and crying out as he plays you so fucking perfect.

“I thought much more. No wonder you seemed so surprised when I flipped you over, took you from behind.” He whispers in your ear now, and you heat up at the memory, as he’s breathing in your ear, making shivers slip down your spine. “Did you get this wet for him?”

“No, you stupid man. Fuck you for that too.” He slips two inside of you now, pressing up over and over, your thighs trembling as you overheat now, desire pooling and bringing you closer and closer. “Mmm!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, the intensity of his stare with his pumping fingers in your slick cunt make you rise higher and higher. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful.”

“You don’t-”

“I do think so, I know so. Every bit of you.” He’s pressing in so deep you can’t take it, kissing down your throat now, your breasts, and your hands enwrap in his hair, as you crave more and more of him, as you lose yourself to it. You feel as if somehow you are yourself more with him than you could be with anyone, you didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ anymore.

“I shouldn’t want this so badly.” You whisper, pulling back, but he’s fucking into you with those fingers, drawing you closer and closer.

“Cum on my fingers, please. Let me watch you.” He murmurs, eyes lidded, and you do then, you fall apart, head falling back, nearly collapsing on his desk as you’re pulsing around his fingers. Your entire body lit up. “Fuck.”

“Mnh.” Satoru hungrily slides up your skirts then, bringing you to him, your thighs gripping his lithe hips, taking his two fingers now and putting them in your mouth.

“Suck yourself off, like a good little slut, would you?” You glare, biting him, and he chuckles even as he shakes his hand, exhaling and studying you so intensely. “You’re a vicious little thing.”

“Fuck you.” You yank him closer again however, and he’s slamming things off his desk, papers flying.

“Fuck you right here, huh? I want you in my bed.”

“We’ll get there. And my bed, I would like to burn yours.”

“Burn it hmm?”

“Indeed.” You slip off his dress shirt now, exhaling as you run fingers down his every muscle. “Your body is so…”

“So?”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s so beautiful.” He unlaces your bodice now, as you’re sitting on his desk, looking up at him, and he then begins to unlace your stays, letting your breasts bounce out for his eager eyes.

“Your body is so beautiful. I almost fainted like a schoolboy when you first showed me them.” You laugh a bit, and he tilts his head, caressing the sides of them with his fingers, your nipples grow taut, he watches as they tighten for him. “I’ve heard you laugh a lot tonight.”

“I used to laugh, you know. At times.”

“It lights up your face.” You can hardly stand how he speaks, so softly, you melt in front of him. “It lights up my heart.”

You gulp now, throat dry. “You have a heart, Duke Gojo?”

“Satoru. And yes.” He cups your breasts now, bending low, your hands entwine in his silky locks as he leans over you, pressed between your thighs, you feel him, so hard and hot. “It’s perhaps shattered in pieces, but seeing you laugh, smile? It feels as if perhaps I can piece some together. Not enough for you, but you’d have it all.”

“Oh shut up.” You can’t take it, his raw emotion, how easy it would be to dive into him, but fuck you need him, need him like your air, how does one make it so hard to breathe yet he’s all you want to breathe!?

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” Satoru murmurs now, gripping your thighs and pulling you against him, you feel his length pressing on you over his breeches, and you are wanton when you grind on him, soaking him.

“No.”

“Then never mind.” He pulls away and you glare.

“Get back here.”

“And do what?”

“Fuck me.” Duke Gojo moans then, rushing back, as you eagerly unbutton his pants, as you stroke his pretty cock that springs free, watching his pretty face contorted in pleasure.

“Promise me you’ll sit on my face later, and I will.”

“Oh fine, I will, just fuck- ah!” Satoru’s pressing on your entrance now, only the edge of your ass on his desk, as he’s sucking in a breath, feeling your wetness pulse around him. You almost come from his tip again, you barely hold it together, eyes rolling back when he sinks in more and more. “Mmm!”

“Fuck you’re so tight, oh my god.” Satoru’s words break in the middle as he gasps, sinking in so deep, leaning over you now, breathing heavy in little pants as he studies your face. “Pussy so good it makes men stupid.”

“You’re already- ah- stupid!” Satoru’s shoving hard in you now, glaring, and you can’t stop the cry as you feel him stroking in and out of your soppy little cunt now, his big hands gripping your thighs, your ass, anywhere he can reach, stretching you out so good. “Satoru.”

He’s pumping into you now, and you’re feeling so good you can’t remember a goddamn thing, just whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, Princess, you will forget anything I did.”

“Then do it, then do it. Please.” He slams his lips on yours, before flipping you over, unzipping your skirts and leaving you bare, stripping your chemise off you in one fell swoop, before he smacks your ass. You gasp. “Excuse you?”

“Someone should punish you for your mouth.” He whispers, lifting your tummy onto the desk so you’re at level, legs dangling as he presses them wide. “Fuck, this view…”

“What are you-” You’re cut off then, as Satoru is shoving his cock back inside, you grip the desk, but he takes your hands, pressing them behind your back and holding them, using them as leverage to fuck you harder. Your moans are so loud you’re sure the entire staff can hear, feeling so much pleasure it’s blinding.

“I always wanted to fuck you so hard your tiara clatters to the fucking floor.” He huffs then, slamming into your pussy and staying there, you’re shuddering as his tip drags along your walls.

“It’s… not… I… mmm!” You’re getting fucked so good, Satoru hits so deep you can’t take it, your walls are fluttering, tightening.

“Feel you clenching around me like that, holy… fuck…” He’s smacking your ass again, stinging your cheeks, but it just makes you wetter, as does his hand pulling your hair back now, body arched into an S curve just for him. “Did he fuck you this good, your silly baker?”

“Did they feel this good, your mistresses?” You counter with a whisper, and he laughs, before groaning.

“Fuck no. No one ever has.” You hate that you enjoy hearing it so much, but you do, you love that he’s owning you, fucking into you, so big compared to you, you feel so tiny and helpless, and it’s just urging you on. “No one could feel this good.”

“Mnh…”

“So good I’d cum in you, have you round with my child.”

“Satoru!”

“I would if you wanted, fuck you’d be so sexy, cum pouring our of your little hole, mmm. I’d lick it up out of you, spit it in your mouth.”

The fuck the man is some demon, all he does is urge you on with his words, his hands, his cock until - “Satoru- cumming!”

“Good girl, good girl. Cum all over me.” He urges then, his hands letting your arms go, one wrapping around your waist, finding your clit, just pushing you further, until you’re a writhing mess, wetness gushing everywhere. “There you go, so good for me, dripping all over, aren’t you?”

“Ngh.” You cannot manage anymore words, not when he fills you with the most lewd images, not when he fills you with his cock, stuffed so deep you feel the weeping tip kissing your cervix. Satoru’s fingers rub in tantalizing circles over your clit, which twitches in response, you get so weak you lay forward on the desk, legs shaking.

“Can’t hold yourself up, are you so weak, Princess?” He whispers, menacingly, fuck him, fuck Duke Gojo- “F-fuck… oh my… you like that, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Satoru.” He laughs softly, before gasping, now hovering over you, one hand braced against the desk, the other tilting your face to the side.

“So good you’re crying?”

“C-crying because… you’re… pissing… me… off! Just shut up and- ah!” Satoru slams hard into you now, a hand around your neck, and you are arching your ass for more and more of him.

“I want to cum in you so bad, fill you up. Fuck you make me stupid.”

“You already are, remem- mmm!”

“Bratty girl.” He huffs, smacking your ass again, harder now, before gripping it, pressing your face down on his desk. “Arch that ass up, Princess.”

You weakly obey, as he’s pressing your head against the cool wood of the desk, and you’re arched up for him, for his smacks, for his thrusts. You feel drool pooling out the side of your mouth he fucks you so good, slamming into you with each thrust, hand clutching in your hair tightly. You’re getting fucked so good you can’t form a thought, except-

“More.” You plead, Satoru groans at that, obeying you, fucking you harder, faster, deeper, until you’re climaxing so hard you can scarcely breathe, shattering and twitching, pussy gripping him so tightly, you feel him everywhere. You feel him splitting you in two, filling you so good you can’t stand it.

“Cum again.” He orders, through gritted teeth, bending low over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, slowing his thrusts now, swiping the drool from your lips, kissing the tears falling on your cheek. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm. Why do I believe- ah- you.” You whisper, when he’s pulling you up, turning you now, lifting you back on the desk, to look at you intensely, his swirling blue eyes like a storm in the evening, so hard to even look at, yet you’re drowning in them.

“You are the most beautiful thing that exists.” He is gentle suddenly, which throws you more off kilter, your cunt sucks him back in, as he’s holding onto you, kissing you, tongues so messy and slow, leisurely, like he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You cling to his shoulders, shaking everywhere, closer and closer. “Perfect for me, made for me.”

“Shh.” You can’t handle him, falling deeper for him every moment he breathes, wishing you could hate him more, wishing you could remember at the moment how horrible he’d been, but you feel his heat, his energy, his length… his touch, and it breaks down every defense you’ve ever had.

“Love being inside of you.” He says then, pulling your hips up to grind on your cervix now, eyes drinking you in, you’re stretched so good, you feel him thicken inside, feel his every movement, as you’re soaking him, soaking so much you drip to the floor. “Love watching you.”

“I love you inside me.” You can’t hold it in, and he gasps, pausing just to look a you, your cunt is spasming around him, your head falling back weakly.

“You love it?”

“I love it, Satoru…” He kisses you again, grinding until you cum so hard you can’t breathe, gasping and clinging to him so tightly, nails digging into the taut skin of his back, burying your face in his chest as he moans, slowing his strokes.

“There it is. Good girl.”

“Don’t say that. Mnh, I’m dumb enough.” You kiss up his chest, his neck, as his hands take over your little waist, his eyes drinking you in, kissing your cheeks, your face, it’s far too intimate, it’s too much, overwhelming you, while you’re a mess around him.

“Where do you… want me to… m’close, fuck.” He whispers, and you struggle to form a coherent thought, as your inner thighs tighten around his hips, whining out at how good he feels inside your walls.

“Let me swallow you.” You whisper, and his mouth drops.

“Oh you’re such a freak, I love it.” He pumps in you harder before pulling back, and pulling you down. “On your knees, pretty.”

You eagerly get on them, looking up at him, he is stroking his slick length, you smack his hand, doing it yourself, the pearls of your ring glowing. Satoru’s free hand strokes your hair, his head falling back when you stroke him, opening your mouth. He lets out this sexy little whine when his tip hits your tongue, and you taste yourself on him as you suck him deeper.

“Oh my… slutty princess.” He whispers, but you love it, love throbbing and aching from him, love being on your knees, as he caresses your face, shoving his cock into your mouth. “F-fuck, you sure you can swallow it all?”

“Shut up and cum, Satoru.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, and he follows your order, gasping as he cums in your mouth now, and cums so much, you swallow every bit of him up, fuck he’s so sweet, like those candies he sucks on.

You gulp down every bit, hot and sticky and pulsing down your throat, as he keeps fucking your mouth through it, more and more little spurts of cum, you greedily suck him clean, cheeks hollowing. He’s whispering a mantra of how beautiful you are, how good you are, a mess over you.

“Open up, lemme see.” You open your mouth now, tongue out, and he groans, helping you stand, gripping your chin. “Want to swallow more of me, Princess?”

You nod nervously, and he leans over you now, spitting in your mouth, gripping your chin so possessively as the stream of saliva streams. You swallow it as well, opening your mouth for his inspection, and he’s kissing you again, tongue devouring you, picking your naked body up in his arms.

“God you’re so good. Do you even know, what you look like with that mouth open wide, with those pretty eyes fucked out?” He’s kissing you over and over, and soon he’s changed how he’s holding you, bridal style. You’re shaking then, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Don’t hold me like this.” You say softly, and he shakes his head, kissing you as he carries you effortlessly.

“I should have, that night. Weigh nothing, little slip of a girl. I was wrong. So bloody wrong, about it all. Now let me do everything I have dreamed of, while I have  you here.” You’re crying then, as he carries you into your room.

“You listened.” You whisper, and he’s nodding, gently laying you down on your back, leaning on top of you, hovering just so, drinking you in.

“We’ll burn that bed if you wish. I’ll do anything to keep you happy, to keep you smiling, keep you cumming.” His hands trail down your tummy, it trembles under his touch.

“I’ve already cum too much. I cannot do more, insane man.” He smiles softly then, touching you everywhere, you’re so sensitive you can’t stand it. “Perhaps after some rest, I’m sore.”

He laughs softly, nodding then. “So, may I rest here with you?”

You gulp then, biting your lower lip. “You want to lay in bed?”

“Of course I do. I yearn to hold you every night.” You shut your eyes while he strokes your arms gently, then your waist. “You will send me away, had your way with my cock and send me off like a mistress.”

“Oh stop that, silly man.” You look up at him, grinning so big against your will, and his breath catches. “What is it?”

“Every time you smile like that, it’s like you grip me here.” He puts your hand on his bare chest now, and you sigh, tracing your fingers along one of his well formed pectoral muscles.

“I want to trust this, believe this, but I’m fucking terrified. What if I let you in, and you fully destroy me?” You whisper, unable to stop your tears, Satoru’s eyes shut, he rests his head on yours.

“I know you’re scared. I can give you time. I’m doing too much-”

“No, I want it all. All of this.” You lean up now, kissing him through your tears, over and over, you’re a tangle of limbs on the bed now, he’s pulling you even closer against him, a thigh between yours, pressing up.

“I want all of you. Every bit of you.” He says huskily. “I’d let you do anything, if you just come back to me.”

“Satoru I only want you, so much so I… I thought of you when…”

“I thought of you too. About how it’d feel tighter, wetter.” You whine out when he’s shoving two fingers in your sore little entrance now, your head falling back, exposing your throat for his kisses, his bites. “Pictured that beautiful face of yours, saw you in my every dream.”

“You took over my dreams.” He moans now, slamming his lips back to yours, and you feel yourself falling further and further into the abyss that is him, into his every touch, every look, every sound he makes. You feel him wrapping you up, and you never want to escape.

“You dreamt of me?” He asks, you see him so vulnerable again, and now that you know his past, you realize how hard it must be. You cup his face gently.

“Over and over, against my will. If I dreamt of someone, your face would take over, annoying me to no end.” He grins then, pecking a kiss on your breasts now, looking up through his long white lashes.

“My dreams were not annoying.”

“Well you annoy me, so. Vex me to no end.”

“Do I? Or are you vexed that you enjoy me?” He teases, earning you rolling your eyes at him, then he’s back to fingering you, and you forget everything, as he’s pumping in and out of you, and you’re dripping everywhere, embarrassingly. “You get wetter than anyone, I swear.”

“It’s annoying too.”

“Is it now? Hear yourself.” You do then, hear the squishing, you’re blushing so furiously, and you’re feeling him hard again, right on your thigh. “Did you get your rest now?”

“I haven’t- ah - rested!” He’s running his thumb on your clit, you’re arching up for more and more of him, lost in him, in his blue eyes that kill you.

“You rode that horse so well.” He pulls you then, on his chest, grinning up at you deviously, and you’re trembling.

“I can’t sit on your face!”

“You sure can, Princess, look, there you are.” He’s gripping the plush of your inner thighs, and you’re straddling his pretty face, he moans when he looks at your pussy, licking his lips. “Is this my dessert?”

“Oh you’re insane! What if I crush you!?” You’re holding yourself up by the headboard, shaking as he laughs against you, breath tickling your pussy, making more wetness trickle down.

“You cannot crush me, foolish girl. Please, ride my face, as much as you want, you can shut me up fully.” You can’t take his sexy eyes, his beautiful lips, as you’re hesitantly easing down on him, your pussy hovering right above his face.

“If you can’t breathe will you tap me or something!?”

He laughs softly. “You will not hurt me, little Princess. Now, c’mere.” He yanks you down now, burying his face against you, you gasp, back arching, you’re clinging to his silky hair, trying to balance yourself. Your stomach tightens as he’s lapping you up, fucking you with his tongue, nose hitting your swollen nub.

“Toru!” You scream out, and he backs away then, eyes hitting yours, flicking his tongue along your slit, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“What now?” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip nervously.

“Um, it came out that way?” You whisper, he smiles then, lashes lowering, pressing a kiss on your pussy lips gently.

“I like it. Now, ride me, pull my hair all you want. Use me.”

“Fuck.” Why is this duke so stupidly attractive!?

You begin to do just that, and he’s moaning as you do, as you’re rolling your hips on his perfect features, soaking him completely, you are gasping in pleasure as his hot, wet muscle devours you. He’s licking between your lips, hitting every bit of you, and you’re even wetter, so wet you watch it drip down his face, until it’s shimmering with you, and then he’s pushing you even further down onto him.

His face is buried against you, his cock thick and hard, twitching, pre cum oozing out of the tip as he tastes you, bucking his own hips up. You feel the tension coiling in your tummy as he keeps licking and sucking, finally pulling your little clit in his hot mouth, sucking and looking up at you with those gorgeous, dilated fucking eyes, and you fall apart then.

You’re cumming all over him, gushing wetness all over him, feeling your body engulf in his flames, taking over you from head to toe, toes that are curling, your mouth open in a scream, hoarse as you roll your hips one more time. Your eyes lock on his, and he’s looking so adoringly at you, as he finally takes a breath, flicking his tongue over you once more, watching you shatter for him.

“Oh my god, Satoru… can’t take anymore.” You whimper weakly, only for him to pull you off his face, sliding you on his lap, slamming his lips on yours, as he grinds you against his length. “Satoru…”

“I liked Toru.” He teases with a smile, then moans as his tip bumps your clit, and you’re covering his cock with even more arousal, sticky and hot. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing, would you believe I haven’t done it?”

“No you’re a whore.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, sitting up as you grind yourself on his cock now, whining softly at how good it feels, clinging to his shoulders.

“I have not done that, no. God I want to always have you on my lips.” He says, husky, kissing you over and over, your tongues swapping your taste, and then he’s lifting you, easing you back down his cock, you’re weak as he does, eyes going wide now. “Ride me, love.”

“Don’t call me love, ugh. Liar.” You whisper weakly, he shakes his head, kissing down your breasts, as you take more of him, inch by inch, sore legs from riding struggling to roll more on his cock, eliciting his moans.

“I did not lie today. I fall deeper for you.” He cups your face now, as he snaps his hips up into your tight cunt, and you shake your head, tears of how good he feels pricking your eyes, making you choke up. “I do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are.” You giggle again, softly, pressing him down on his back then, your hair falling against his chest like a curtain.

“You want me to fuck you?” He nods eagerly, grabbing your ass, as you brace yourself on him, and he’s moaning, looking at your body, how your breasts sway when you start riding his cock in earnest. “So deep!”

“You’re gorgeous like this, fuck.” He’s enamored, his hands everywhere he can touch, as he lets you control everything, just urging you on here and there, watching you eagerly. “You are doing such a good job.”

“Stop saying the right thing.” He bucks his hips up with a glare, fucking up into you then, and you’re clinging to him desperately, breasts in his face now, he’s eagerly sucking them into his mouth.

“I should shut this bratty mouth up. I’m trying to be sweet, but you’re a freaky little brat.”

“Me freaky!?”

“Yes you. C’mere now.” He’s got you laying on him, his feet flattening on the bed, and now he’s fucking up into you, making you drip down his stomach, everywhere, your mouths devouring each other again. He’s desperate in his kisses, in his thrusts, and you feel yourself impossibly higher, as you’re helpless on top of him, just letting him use you so good.

“S’Toru…” He moans again, lifting your ass up with his big hands like it’s nothing, slamming you down his length so hard your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back.

“How can you feel this perfect? You’re made f’me, fucking say it.”

“N-no!”

“Say it, Princess. Just say it.”

“No!” He smacks your ass now, and you weakly cling to him, just wetter now, pussy so sore and stretched by him, but fuck you want it, you want all of Satoru, the Duke Gojo under you.

“Made for me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, you shake your head. “Stubborn, you’re so stubborn. Every inch of your little body is mine.”

“It’s not. Fuck you. Mmm!” He’s biting your throat now, grinding his hips so that his cock’s tip presses on your cervix, then your orgasm hits so hard you can hardly rememeber a thing. You can hardly keep to this timeline, to anything, all you can cling to is Satoru.

“Made for me. Say it.” He smacks you again, and you just cry out softly, weak and unable to move or hold yourself up. He flips you onto your back, hands entwining with yours, so intimate you can’t stand it, you feel like you can’t breathe when he’s laying on top, staring at you.

“Satoru…”

“Say it. That she’s made for me. Don’t I make her feel so good?” He whispers, rolling his hips again, and you moan, nodding. “Say it.”

“Made for you.” Your words are a breathy sigh, but Satoru is moaning, kissing you so deeply, one hand entwined in yours, the other gripping your hair tightly, pulling at it as he moves over you gently.

“I want you to be mine. All mine.” He says against your ear now, kissing it, biting it, and you’re senseless under him, anything you had left to fight is gone. “God I love everything about you.”

“Satoru!”

“I want to breed your pretty pussy so bad, fuck. How can you make me this way, fucking witchcraft.” He’s babbling nonsensically as he pumps, and you see his pupils are pinpoints, his eyes bright and insane. “How will I ever get over you!?”

“Just… just… feel me. Feel me. I feel you.” Your free hand touches his heart, emotions so deep as you look into his eyes you can’t handle it, you cannot take how much you are falling, it’s a neverending abyss, Satoru Gojo, you’re exhausted from holding it all back. “I just want you.”

“I just want you.” He whispers back, and then you’re so overstimulated every breath brings you higher, his hips are gently stroking, rolling, you’re reaching up for him, for more, drinking in every bit of him. “Never want this to end, fuck. Don’t even wanna cum.” His words are against your collarbone as he’s nipping, biting, declaring things that make your heart falter.

Can you trust him?

Fuck you want to.

“Would I get pregnant if you…”

His eyes go wide now. “Possibly.”

“Then you can’t…”

“Then I can’t…” He presses a hand on your stomach, leaning up and exhaling. “Not until you decide.”

“I want you to, though.” He groans at your insane confession. “Don’t… but I do… want it…”

“Fuck.” He fucks you hard for a moment, chasing his release, clinging to you desperately, then he pulls back. “Can I cum on it?”

“Will that be okay?” You ask, he nods, and you bite your lip. “You can.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t deserve any of this.” He exhales then, pulling out, stroking his cock, and hot white ropes shoot out, hitting the outer lips of your pussy, he’s moaning as he watches it, and you’re so flushed and flustered, at how lewd it looks. His hot sticky cum all over your pussy. “Oh my god look at you.”

“It’s obscene.” You say, and he laughs then, breathless, all sweaty and glistening, cupping your chin and tilting it up.

“The obscene things I want to do to your pretty body have barely began.”

“Barely began!?”

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute!”

“Mmm. Cute and slutty looking at the same time.” He fingers the sticky substance, all out of breath as you are. “I made you a mess. Shall I clean you, Princess?”

“Why do you seem so devious!? I… Satoru!” He’s lapping up his own cum off your pussy, and then he’s leaning over you, prying your mouth open with two fingers, spitting his cum inside your mouth. You gasp as he does, only serving to make your sore pussy throb with more need.

“You’re so sexy, fuck.” He whispers, as you swallow him all up.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. A fiend.” He smirks, but you’re reaching down, playing with it yourself, sucking him off your fingers.

“Fuck I can’t get enough of you. You too sore?”

“Yes too sore, insane man.” You kiss him again, as both of your fluids are mixing with your saliva, dripping between you both. “I’m exhausted now.”

“Let me sleep with you, please.” He pouts, as if he hadn’t just spit his cum in your mouth, like some innocent puppy.

“Oh fine, but let’s actually clean up. And you’re making me tea.”

“I don’t know how to make fucking tea!”

“You put the kettle on!?”

“What the fuck is a kettle? I’ll fetch a servant.”

“No, you make me tea, or no sleeping in my bedchambers.” He scowls, and you glare now.

“You’re cruel and evil, I made you cum countless times, and demanding more shit from me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine, you teach me.” He cleans you up properly with a washcloth, then he’s dressing you in one of your night wrappers, a pretty soft pale blue, which he ties carefully in the front. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You say, and he grins.

“Finally, no arguments?”

“None for the moment. Now, tea.” You drag him by his hand, and he follows you through the halls, you see several of the servants smiling and grinning, even your nan smiles softly as you two enter the kitchen. “Nan, fetch some tea please, I need to show this grown man how to make some.”

“I’ve always had a staff.” He huffs, and your Nan laughs softly, coming with a kettle and several pouches.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my sweet girl. Your grace.” She curtsies a bit, still giving Satoru the eye, and he sighs as she walks out.

“She wants to kill me.”

“You blame her? She had to see a lot no one else did.” It grows a little serious now, as you prepare the water, setting it in the kettle and firing it up. You look back at him as it begins to steam. “I do not say that to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s just… I cannot imagine what you went through because of me.” You hug him then, letting him sway you side to side, drinking in his presence, letting it soak into your bones, your being. “You told me to make it.”

“You can pour the water.” He snorts at that, changing the tense subject, but as he caresses your cheek, you can tell his actions weigh on him. Finally you set the bags of pretty herbs into two cups. “Let’s see a high pour.”

“A what now?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Pour high, Satoru.”

He pours the hot, steamy water on top of the tea bags, and you both sit down at one of the servant tables, your pussy and ass so sore you wince. He grins. “Sore, huh Princess?”

“Oh do you ever shut that mouth, Satoru!?”

“When you rode my-”

“Hush, now, sip.” He blows on the steaming liquid, lips that had drank your cries, lips that did obscene things, his long fingers holding the delicate little handle of the teacup, you can barely control how much you desire him, everything about him. 

“There, I made you tea, bratty girl. You’ll lay with me.” He huffs, and then snatches you up, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh fine, if you snore I shall kick you right out, you can lay in your whore bed.”

“My whore bed, hmm?”

“Mmhmm! Oh, we have a ball to go to tomorrow, I nearly forgot with all we’ve been doing in town.”

“Imagine a ball where we don’t hate each other.”

“Who says I don’t.” He smiles then, shaking his head, kissing your cheek softly, hand running down your back. “A little less though.”

“I’ll take a little less. Did you enjoy cooking so much to get away from your mother I wonder?”

“That is how it started. Ugh, she’ll be there. Back to the corset.”

“Fuck no.” He grips your little waist then, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “You’ll wear no corset, you can wear those stays, so I can see more of your pretty form.”

“Satoru…” He hums then, as you sip your tea, setting it down with a click, wrapping your arms around him. “Fuck it. I’m very happy.”

“I’m so happy with you. Like this with me.” He kisses your chest softly, where your heart races for him, snowy white hair tickling you as it falls.

“I’m scared though.”

“I know. I will keep proving to you that I can be worthy, I swear it.” He declares, eyes looking up at you, and you believe him, you really do.

Maybe you’re a fool but you feel his sincerity.

“Let us sleep, Satoru, and no more funny business. I’m sore.”

“In the morning though?”

“Satoru!” He is laughing, picking you up in his arms again, and fuck it feels good to be held like this. You’re so terrified something will happen, to ruin this, something outside of you and Satoru, so scared it gnaws at you, but it’s eased when you’re later in his arms, under your thick blankets, and he’s holding you.

Satoru Gojo, your husband, spends the first night in bed with you, after nearly a month of marriage.

You fall asleep easily for the first time since you got here.

A/N: So this was a very Gojo/Reader based chapter, with the upcoming ball we will have more drama and intrigue, for now these two just were enjoying each other and opening up. The first bit of lightness I think I've written in here! Hope you enjoy a lighter chap, and smut filled.

Until next time, dear readers

Taglist : @kalopsia-flaneur @bunheadusa @7thsthings @disilluzions  @chiyokoemilia  @antisocialinlw @Sukunassfinger @lelsforlino @peppertoastuniverse @muvasuperior @prince-wyiilder @lavender-hvze @ssetsuka  @labelt-san  @sadmonke @philiatothephobia @ambiguouslady42 @stromynight @dreamygirli3 @jjknanamin @jazlenekasi @victoriaaaa00 @wuvnada @valleydoli @nanasukii28 @sw3etnena @dark-agate @tamaki-simp @yuuuumii @givluv2tyy @webshooterrr9 @miizuzu @thikcems @erensblackwife @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @airandyeah @jaylenezzz @blue-musingss @huuuhwhaat @makingtimemine @saccharinesatoru @sunnyviewsblog @nanananananaiknow @spookyblackhottie @ekaterinatepes @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @szna @crimsonmarabou @teacupwaifu

[beautifullilacsky]

Babygirl. We have come so far.

Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.

I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.

Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.

How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.

Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.

[randombush3]

recuérdame

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 1185 (treat this like a prologue ok x)

notes: i hope this actually takes off as a new series so i'm posting it now while i think about what comes next xx

There’s something groggy about the darkness in your mind. It’s not an eyes-closed kind of black; not a piece of white paper doused in ink. 

It’s thick like smog. Grainy. 

And all of a sudden, you are awake. 

There’s an incessant pounding in your mind that is sharp and rhythmic. The lights are too harsh, too much. The bed is hard under your heavy bones. 

You blink and even that small movement is strange, harder than it should be. 

The ceiling is peppered with small, grey dots. It’s terribly ugly, but your eyes cling to it as you try to shake off the haze. 

Slowly, the rest of the room comes into focus: sterile whites, beeping machines, tubes splaying out across what must be your body but feels like deadweight. The steady noise draws your attention after a moment, the sound seeming to echo inside your head. You turn, neck stiff and crunching, to catch a glimpse of a monitor, green lines spiking across its screen. 

The tubes aren’t just on top of you. They must be inside you. 

Something twists in your stomach. 

“You’re… awake.” 

…

No one really knows what to say to Alexia when she receives the call. 

Training is running over, the sun is beginning to set, and the girls are getting restless. The drill is nothing special, and the boredom it brings infects their captain, too, despite her valiant attempts at maturity. 

Alexia wants to get home, tonight of all nights. 

Five days ago, a work trip left her alone with a daughter that isn’t quite hers. There has been an other-mother shaped hole in the family ever since. Madrid continues to be evil. Her Catalan pride is vindicated once more. 

So when Pere blows his whistle, she all but sprints into the changing room (much to her coach’s dismay, since training ended because he assumed no one could run at that speed anymore), image of picture-perfect leadership be damned. 

Her shower is fast, clothes are shoved on even faster, and she is just about to walk through the automatic exit doors when her phone rings. 

A location update, she assumes. Or a complaint from an impatient tweenager (god, they seem to be fountains of those). 

It’s to her horror that she is incorrect. 

The nurse on the other line is eerily calm, but does not waste time beating around the bush. Her instructions are clear: come to the hospital now. 

“I think my fiancée has just died,” Alexia tells no one in particular. 

The team isn't sure whether or not she is joking. 

That was a week ago, and now she is here, in the hospital. Her bum is accustomed to the hard plastic chairs, her schedule skewed until the doctors finally wake you up from a medically induced coma. Amaia, her stepdaughter, is at her friend’s house, the boy’s mother insisting she care for her while Alexia makes a rather practical visit to the hospital. 

Alexia’s hands shake as she brings them to her face, rubbing her temples. The past week has been wrapped around her like a noose, suffocating and taut. She’s holding herself together but she is doing an uncharacteristically catastrophic job at it. Her mind is still tangled up in the phone call she’d received – and the many others she’d had to make after the nurse had hung up. Although there has been a swarm of activity (flights landing, taxis to the hospital, meals arriving at her front door with well-meaning notes attached), life has felt still. Stagnant. 

She is stuck in something she doesn’t know how to deal with. 

She closes her eyes for a second and inhales with as much steadiness as she can muster, letting the beeping of your monitor anchor her back to the present. It’s a strange sound to feel grateful for, each pulse a reminder that you are still here. With her. 

They have been gradually reducing the sedatives administered to you, making the answer to her question always ‘she will wake up when she wakes up’. The twitches in your finger have grown old now, and she is becoming very impatient. 

“If you wanted a holiday, we could’ve taken time off,” she tells you with a forced chuckle. “You didn’t need to get yourself into a…” 

You shift slightly in the bed. Alexia’s eyes snap open, her body surging upwards in hope. 

“Come on…” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Please…”

Your eyelids flutter, hesitant, like they’re testing the weight of the world behind them. She hopes: at least it’s something. 

And it could be more, surely? It should be any minute now, according to the doctors. The wait will be over and she can get you back.

It’s been fifteen days since Alexia saw the eyes she fell in love with. 

Words fall out of her mouth but she barely registers them, staring at you listlessly, unprepared for this moment. She had thought about it, of course, imagining how to go about updating you on what you’ve missed: how Amaia’s match yesterday ended in a draw; how her own was a sizable but unsatisfying win. 

She wants to say things she should say more. Reminders, confessions. She wants to let out the anger that you did this to her; that you left, that you didn’t come back. And how she wants to hold you, kiss you, love you even more.

But the first thing Alexia notices behind bleary eyes is terror. Confusion. And, what she had told herself would not happen: a lack of recognition. 

I’m in a hospital, you think, but I don’t know who is here with me. 

The moment stretches on, thin and frail, and Alexia feels the tautness in her stomach like a rope holding dead weight over a cliff. Her heart – bruised, aching, impatient – is pierced by the way you look at her with poorly-masked indifference. 

“Hi,” she tries, waiting for you to come back fully, wanting to skip the part where it hurts so much. Her hand reaches out, hovering above your own, fingers aching to touch you, but she holds back. “Do you know where we are?” 

She should really call the nurse in, but she can’t quite bring herself to disrupt this. 

Your eyes flicker, glancing at the tubes and machines. The mattress hasn’t gotten any softer, nor your body any lighter. “Hospital,” you whisper, throat scratchy and hoarse. The word appears in your mind as almost foreign, coming from somewhere deeper than the blankness of the surface. Then your gaze drifts back to her, the hopeful woman at your bedside, brows furrowing as you struggle to place her into a life you can’t quite recall. Not that you’ve tried; you’ve got a screaming headache. 

The question on your lips twists Alexia’s insides. She anticipates it, with an instinctiveness that almost frustrates you. “I’m Alexia,” she says. She doesn’t sound sure. 

You stare through her and the distance clutches at her neck. Her nightmare lands, cold and final. 

“I’m… sorry. I don’t,” and like how she knows the question, she is well aware of the end of that sentence.