#intended to extinguish

[falseandrealultravival]

Today's Haiku with Picture 341

Over the years

Come back to life

It's nettle

年を経て

蘇りたる

ネトルかな

A herb that I had cultivated, but had lost my will and intended to extinguish. I will cultivate again.

(2022.12.25)

[randomfoggytiger]

(Credit to @i-still-want--to-believe -- her edits here.)

I just noticed a parallel between Anne Frank's diary and Samantha Mulder's recovered journal.

Was it intentional? Because, if so... yeah, that's dark.

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[dreammfyre]

the heir's favorite ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of the marriage between your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen and your father Daemon Targaryen. Always the most rebellious and difficult of all, temperamental, impulsive. However, weak before the temptation to possess your older brother, the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a knight par excellence, the opposite of you. But no one in Dragonstone imagined that you shared much more than dragon's blood.

WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister). Jacaerys aggressive and dominant. Smut. Based on the second season of House Of the Dragon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. This was a suggestion left anonymously in the messages, so I invite you to leave yours. Thanks for reading.

The empty room was so quiet that you could feel your thoughts could be heard all over the place. The full moon illuminated the dark sky, standing out against the stars that night where everyone was resting in their chambers, but you were unable to lie in your bed, much less fall asleep without having nightmares. The Stone Table was where everyone met daily to discuss strategies for the war that was being unleashed in Westeros, but now that empty place was strange, so much silence and loneliness. The extinguished embers did not illuminate the tabletop, you touched the stone expecting to burn, however, it was totally cold.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice entered the place. You turned immediately finding Prince Jacaerys, your older brother and heir to your mother's throne. "Sister... it's very late."

"I know, you should be resting." You replied walking towards him.

"It's a bit complex lately." He took the luxury of joking, in response you smiled without much encouragement. "May I know what you're doing here?"

"Not much. Seems to me you're not the only one who doesn't get any rest." You lifted your shoulders casually. "Any news on your rounds?"

Jacaerys shook his head in disappointment, pacing around the table resting his hands on the handle of his sword without taking his eyes off you, analyzing your presence carefully, as if silently judging you. You rested your hands on the stone of the table relaxing your body on your arms, but your head couldn't stop scheming hundreds of thoughts and bloody imaginary scenarios regarding the war.

"Cole's army is getting bigger and bigger and we don't have a damn clue about anything." You said with a tense jaw. "And about my father..." you sighed deeply without looking your brother in the face "no word from him for days."

"That's not your fault." Jace tried to make you feel better with repeated kind words, but your guilt was growing and the anguish of the approaching war wouldn't leave you alone. "Daemon is not the priority."

"That idiot should be here, on the island, with his queen and his children." You whispered angrily. Then you looked up resolute in your decision. "I'll go see him tomorrow."

That didn't sit well with your brother.

"Don't talk nonsense, Visenya." The heir scoffed. "You can't go to Harrenhal alone, it's too dangerous and we don't know if the way is clear."

"You think I'll arrive by land alongside Daemon's imaginary army?" you sneered in the same condescending manner, a brazen gesture that made Jacaerys' blood boil. "I will ride Vermithor's back at dawn and arrive before the sun peaks. I will return the same day with news before the queen."

"That's a lousy idea!" Your brother exclaimed angrily. Grabbing your arm with brute force, forcing you to look him. "How can you even think of traveling alone to lands we don't know if they are enemies or allies?"

"We need to move fast before they come for us, Jacaerys." You squirmed under his grip feeling his fingers bury into your pale skin. "Do you intend to wait for my father to return?" you managed to break free from his grip with difficulty, Jacaerys ran a hand through his wavy hair desperate not to talk sense into you. "Because you may take a seat, I will not be accompanying you."

"Visenya, please understand the magnitude of your stupidity." He begged, chasing you from side to side. Your brother knew how impulsive you were, and how hard it was for you to get an idea out of your head, no matter if it was good or bad and in this case it was a rather dangerous one. "What happens if you cross paths with Vhagar in the skies?" The prince raised his voice to you demanding and imperative trying to intimidate you, anyone passing nearby could overhear your discussion. You turned your back to him, you didn't want to look him in the face out of embarrassment because deep down you knew his words were true. "You have no business there!"

"I have no business here either!" you exclaimed with the same intensity. You were temperamental by nature and now you were blowing off steam. "I'm tired of staying cooped up on the island, waiting for others to figure things out! I'm a dragon rider, and I'm constrained by these walls."

Your brother understood that feeling better than anyone, he grabbed you by both cheeks, covering your face with his firm hands.

"I know how you feel, Visenya. Believe me, but walking out at the first impulse is not the solution, don't you understand?" You put your hands over his, looking at him intently. You wanted to nod to answer him the question he asked you, but you were mesmerized in his nearness and his breath hitting your face. "Stay here, with us." He watched you carefully without letting go, losing himself in the sense of his pleas to look at you closely, you were so beautiful in any light no matter how dim, a Targaryen through and through with bright, intense violet eyes of long white hair like your parents. Jacaerys couldn't help but stare at you, the half-open lips tempting him to taste you, trying not to lose what little composure he had left. "With me."

You possessed the ethereal beauty of your mother and the complex character of your father, Daemon Targaryen. Under your little ethics and impulsiveness you did not think if it was a coherent idea and you threw yourself to kiss the thick lips of your brother who reciprocated instantly, none of them reasoned, they only moved to the rhythm of the kiss where their moist lips brushed anxiously. Your brother's hand on your waist took you by surprise, more so when he pressed you against his body bumping you against his chest and cornering you against the table.

"Go to sleep." Jace scolded you making an attempt to stop kissing you, but you kept reaching for him. "This isn't a good place."

With a smile you ignored knowing the only way to stop the situation was for you to go to your quarters and you didn't feel like leaving. You grabbed her hair tangling your fingers in her chestnut curls, Jacaerys strength intimidated you, but it wasn't enough to stop you.

"Don't go to Harrenhal." He pleaded leaving kisses on your neck, tracing a wet path over your skin taking advantage of inhaling your scent. "Do it and I promise I will warm your bed every night."

You felt a shiver run down your back at his offering, Jacaerys kept leaving kisses until he reached your collarbones uncovered by the neckline of your dress. His warm lips made your heart beat faster, you grabbed him by the face stopping him.

"Would you do that for me?" you asked with dangerous innocence, watching his glossy swollen lips.

"Do you really doubt it?" he answered against your ear, then brushed his nose against yours slowly, you left a short kiss on his lips almost by instinct, so tender and unexpected that you heard a laugh come out of the prince.

"I'll think about it." You whispered touching his chest, playing with the textures of the fabrics, his agitated breathing gave him away, having you close was a personal challenge for the prince. It was a lie, you weren't going to think about it, you just wanted to give him what he needed to hear to stay with you.

Jacaerys' big hands began to take hold of your body squeezing you tightly making you gasp, then you lifted your chin giving him access to your neck, the kisses there unsettled you in a special way and only your brother knew it, taking advantage of your weakness, listening closely to his breathing and feeling the warmth of his breath was much better. Everything about him you liked, and you were missing him lately. The pressure and uncertainty of the war had taken your head elsewhere, you had abandoned each other for valid reasons, but at that second you just wanted to give yourself to him one more time.

You stood on your tiptoes to gain a little more height reaching for his ear, your brother tensed at the delicate touch of your hot tongue against his lobe, you licked delicately knowing that it turned him on, he confessed it to you one night and you never forgot it. A deep moan of satisfaction came from his throat, then carefully, you lowered one of your hands straight down to his pants, positioning yourself over his hard member that was pressing against the fabric.

"This is not the best place." Begged the prince resting his forehead on your shoulder. "We are in a sacred place, you know?"

You cared little for his insistence or decency when you only wanted to shout his name, though you knew Jacaerys was asking you to stop for the sake of not failing in duty, not because the desire wasn't there. No one understood the reason why Rhaenyra did not cancel the stupid engagement between Lady Baela and the right Jacaerys, no one could deny that they could become blameless kings for the history of Westeros, but there would never be the tension and burning desire throbbing as when the fire was unleashed between you. That first time with a taste of sin, you begging him not to stop, that it was going to become a one-time secret that his parents would never find out, a secret they couldn't help but repeat between your sheets and his, in the hallways and in the library.

Desperate, your brother lifted the skirt of your dress with your help by grabbing your leg and pulling it up to his waist. The mere contact made you moan from the pleasure, you clamped your mouth shut to keep from making noise, you were too sensitive and needy and Jacaerys liked to have you under his control. You were always sarcastic, upset and nasty, just like your dragon, but Jacaerys Velaryon knew how to control you.

"What are you going to do if someone finds out about us?" You asked with bated breath. Deep down it was important to keep the secret guarded to keep it. Jacaerys' fingers stroking between your legs making you jump, clinging to the heir's neck and leaning against the table. "What are they going to say when they find out the crown prince fucking his sister."

His fingers slowly moved up and down, playing with your slimy wetness between his fingers. The mischievous grin on the chestnut's face only reflected the satisfaction of having managed to have you like this, so submissive to him.

"Does it scare you?" he whispered against your moaning lips. With his other hand he gripped the back of your neck tightly, so you wouldn't move. "They're going to find out you're my spoiled sister." Two of his long fingers began to search for the perfect place to insert themselves into you. You stirred under his grip settling in for him, your desperate breathing needing him to finish his work, but he seemed very calm provoking you with his words. "Do you know what they'll call you?" he bit your lip, pulling it towards him. "The heir's whore." His fingers slipped inside you so easily, sliding into your wet insides gushing moans from your chest as you felt him move in and out of you. Jacaerys took your leg his free hand clutching his fingers to your thigh preventing you from closing before him.

At the first loud moan you covered your mouth immediately knowing you were attracting attention, the sensation between your legs was stronger. You squeezed your brother's shoulder getting used to the movement of his fingers inside you.

"Don't yell." He ordered uncompromisingly. He had to kiss you to shut you up, which served you a few short minutes. You were losing your mind, your legs wanted to close but Jace put his foot down to stop that from happening.

"Jacaerys." His name on your lips excited him more than anything else, for it was the tone of desperation that mirrored your desire. To know that he controlled you and you were under his dominion with how arrogant you were, that no knight owned you, that everyone desired you for being Rhaenyra's spoiled daughter, but you were his, no matter an arranged marriage or duty was enough. "Mmh." You ran your hand over your face, desperate to keep silent fighting against your body that was beginning to tremble as his fingers went faster.

But for an ego like Prince Jacaerys Velaryon's it wasn't enough. Listening to you enjoy yourself on the Stone Table where every day they met to discuss war strategies was the most satisfying image to his eyes and he was not going to be able to forget it. The way you moved, dragon-like, the sweetest and most desperate noises came from you, none of the whores he had been with compared to the delicacy of a pureblood Targaryen. A unique and unrepeatable privilege.

When your breathing became erratic and the murmurs incomprehensible swearing you were going to reach that peak, Jacaerys came to a screeching halt chastising you. You opened your eyes in disappointment and fury, your heart leaping out of your chest and your legs damp and trembling.

"Be a good sister," he stroked your cheek with the gentleness you deserve to be treated with. You were trying to listen to him but you were so upset you just wanted to insult him for doing that to you. "Turn around."

Your hair stood up at his tone of voice demanding and conciliatory at the same time. As obedient as ever, just for him, you turned your back to him as the prince busied himself with pulling down his pants that were pressing against the erection he was trying to contain. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, you could still feel his long fingers inside you and the wait, however minimal, was becoming eternal and torturous. You looked sideways at the entrances of the place without finding anyone, but the truth is that you didn't care if at that moment the queen arrived and found them like that, the euphoria and adrenaline was taking over your body and your reason, the overflowing desire had taken your actions. You felt Jace's hands sneaking up your skirt, careful where to touch, looking for just the right position to enter. He stood behind you, your dress pulled up over your back, the mere touch made you moan. You were so wet it was slipping from your entrance.

"Don't say anything." He told you and you nodded, you were capable of begging if necessary, though deep down you knew he enjoyed it making you obey. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You closed your eyes as you felt Jacaerys slowly push behind you. You took a breath and tried to relax, you both moaned slowly, the prince tensed his jaw and clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, he stayed still for a few seconds searching for your hips digging his fingers into your skin trapping you in that position, moving you back and forth to better thrust. The rubbing of his member on your walls felt warm and wet, an invasion of your body, you were so used to his size that the sensation became familiar, literally. Some of the pieces of stone you unintentionally threw away, that was going to be a problem for later, because now the noise of their bodies colliding was beginning to consume you. The control he had over you didn't bother you, he gripped you tightly taking over everything. Her hips moved with yours instinctively in a delicious back and forth.

"Like this." You gasped with closed eyes and a satisfied expression. You reached for his hand under your dress and clung to him as tightly as Jace clung to you.

His length pumped in and out of you at a rapid pace, but this time, Jacaerys made sure each thrust was deep by ramming his pelvis into your buttocks.

"What a pleasure to meet again, don't you think?" his question was punctuated by your same panting without stopping moving. You weren't able to answer, your high-pitched moans were getting louder and louder, putting both of you at risk. On the other hand, he was breathing heavily. You had to cover your mouth with your hand, biting your palm to stifle your own moans of pleasure at having him inside you.

You started to stir but you were trapped in his hands, he knew you well enough to know what to do, you turned to look at him finding the heir ramming you with force and speed, his hair fell in curls that moved to the rhythm of his rhythm, when their gazes met for a second he stared at you, your face sweating, your eyes bright with a frown of supplication and red cheeks were enough to have no mercy. Your entrance was tightening at the same time you couldn't breathe, that feeling of a wave invading your insides begging for more desperate to reach orgasm. Jacaerys took your with one hand your waist and with the other your hip, encasing his fingers preventing you from escaping, you were in this together and you had to finish it.

You moved your arm and disarranged the pieces on the board. Now you could hear your brother moaning, cursing you for being his undoing and the greatest of his sins, making you his own feeling the power to mark you and deflower you breaking any tradition that governs the Targaryen nobility. It felt so good that you could confess your love to him just so he wouldn't stop. Luckily for both of you, he didn't stop, the rapid movements and the pressure forming in your lower stomach was getting out of control, the noise intensifying from the collision of your bodies and your knees seemed to lose any kind of strength to hold you up, luckily the table was there to support your body, plus your brother who wasn't going to let you fall. Until you couldn't manage to resist anymore, your orgasm came first like a shiver throughout your body, you closed your eyes tightly and watching you exclaim his name in screams of pleasure ended the infinite torture of the heir that took a few seconds to wait.

"Shit." Your voice hopefully came out of your dry mouth. You had your chest against the weight crushing your breasts, one of your hands intertwined with your brother's who was rebounding behind you.

You both took a second to take a breath and assimilate what you had just done, you had promised not to fall into carnal sin again and that's why the last time was several months ago. You leaned on the table with both hands coming back into yourself with your chest heaving, your brother's hands were still in the same place but he was no longer squeezing you with the same possessive intensity. Your hair was falling on both sides, tousled from the movement and your legs were begging you for a rest.

Jacaerys caught his breath, but his heart had not calmed down at all. His body was still experiencing those chills and that unique tension, he took a step backwards out of your body to get dressed. You immediately felt the fluid trickle down the inside of your thighs, dripping slowly down your hot skin.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked pulling up his pants, his movements a little uncontrolled as the adrenaline was still pumping. You nodded fixing your wrinkled dress. It wasn't the first time it had happened, you both knew what it was, that meant you would have to have tea the next morning.

"Looks like I'll be staying."

Your older brother smiled, fixed his hair pulling it back and moving closer to kiss you again, this time slower and softer, trapping your lips with his so slowly that you relaxed. You took his face kissing him again, his scent, his warmth, his bearing that forced you to lift your chin to reach your mouth, the softness of his lips, it was the most comforting sensation you knew.

"Go rest." He whispered without opening his eyes. Tidying your hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You replied in the same tone, so obedient and submissive before him, kissing for the last time his mouth following your movement. "Good night"

Leaving him was complicated, but you were satisfied with the encounter. As you walked you felt the burning between your legs, a reminder that was to last a couple of days that he had made you his once more, that was the greatest secret they kept hidden, they had forgotten for a moment the war between families, the political problems, duty and order.

Jacaerys Velaryon watched you go, silently picking up the sword he had dropped to the ground. That simple symbol that he was capable of abandoning his duty as prince for you, he staked his honor and his word for taking you. He stayed a while longer tidying up the mess they had created, arranging the pieces of stone in the place that corresponded according to the figure, picking up from the floor some that fell without realizing it. It was he who always assumed the role of responsibility for cleaning up the mess and pretending nothing had happened. How was he going to show up tomorrow at this very spot knowing he had relations with Visenya, the spoiled and arrogant princess, right there?

He only hoped Daemon Targaryen would never discover that his daughter was the heir's favorite if he wished to one day ascend the throne.

[txepviriir]

u mean this guy here? this monkey-man? who probably got caught in a trap he set himself to catch a hexapede? probably still has to make an L shape with his hands to figure out which is his left from right? probably can't tell up from down either. don't get me started on complex math.

[moonlight-prose]

smut prompt #8 for logan 👀💗

forty five minutes in the closet

a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.

summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.

The closet felt smaller than intended—even as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.

Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.

He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.

Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.

"Do you—um—know what usually happens here?"

A smile curved on his lips—eyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."

"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Oh–"

"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.

"Yes?" you breathed—eyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.

"Are you nervous?"

Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chest—quickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.

His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."

A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth opened—words still fighting to be formed—but he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.

"You mind if I kiss you bub?"

A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closet—settling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.

Glancing up—eyes wide and darkened with lust—you bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."

He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."

"Logan–"

Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."

It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.

You craved it.

He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.

"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.

Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.

The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?

How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.

Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.

He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.

Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neck—leading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."

A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomach—the breath torn from your lungs. "Inside–"

He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."

His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.

Oh how you longed for him to follow through.

"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.

The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.

You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.

"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."

Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide out—cutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sight—how your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.

"All for me," he sighed.

"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.

He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongue—ready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungs—legs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.

"Oh fuck–" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.

The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.

He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.

His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.

"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.

The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.

"I promise."

He chuckled, breathless. You joined.

The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.

"Hey Logan."

His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"

"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."

His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skin—soaking up your warmth. "Me too."

The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.

Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocket—his lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.

"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lips—willing you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.

Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffled—eyes rolled back—and he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.

His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.

"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"

Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.

He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.

"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"

You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cock—his other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.

"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.

"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoes—head falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."

"Mmff–" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.

Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.

Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.

You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.

To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an option—your legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.

He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.

"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.

"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."

He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckin’ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."

You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"

"Shut up–"

"He's told you–"

Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."

You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"

A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughter—his knuckles rapping on the wood.

"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.

"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.

"HE ROSE!"

[arvandus]

Gojo had never intended to make you cry.  Sure, he teased you.  Maybe a little bit too much.  But he never wanted to actually hurt you.  He was a cocky ass, but he wasn’t an asshole.

That’s what he wanted to tell himself anyway, even as your wide eyes brimmed with tears that clung to your lashes.  It felt like a punch to the gut when the first tear fell.

Without even thinking, his hand came up to gently cup your cheek.  “Don’t...” he whispered.  His thumb swiped away at the wet track.  “Don’t cry.”

But it was too late; more tears fell, leaving wet lines in their wake, the droplets clinging to your chin. He hated the sight of them; hated the way they documented his failure, a sentence of guilt written in watercolor against skin he’d admired with every sideways glance.

He wanted to make them disappear, to extinguish them and replace them with warmth.  To take your trembling lips and make them smile again.  Gojo cradled your face in both of his hands, his large, calloused thumbs wiping away at your tears.  You closed your eyes, caught up in the way your heart twisted in your chest at the warmth of his touch.

You felt his forehead touch yours, his soft hair cushioned between you.  “I’m sorry...” he whispered. “I didn’t mean...”

Gojo’s words died on his lips as he felt more fresh, hot tears catch on his thumbs, heard you sniffle and try to hide the soft sob that wanted to unfurl from within your chest.��

His air left his lungs, a slow panic building at the possibility that maybe, this time, a sorry wouldn’t be enough. That maybe, this time, there was no such thing as forgiveness, and that he’d never again get to see you smile at him.

“I’m sorry...” he repeated, as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.  You froze beneath his affection, stunned.

He didn’t stop there.  His lips traveled lower, brushing against your wet lashes, against your cheeks, each time echoing his apology in earnest supplication.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Finally, he came to your still-trembling lips, the soft flesh wet where you’d licked with your tongue, although whether it was in anticipation of his lips or to taste your own tears, he wasn’t sure.  Gojo hesitated, for just the slightest fraction of a moment, waiting...

And then you gave it to him, the sign he was looking for. The ever so subtle tilt of your chin, the flutter of lashes as you peaked at him through the dew drops in hope.

His lips met yours, soft and gentle, your face still gently cupped in his hands. You finally responded, returning the kiss with your hands wrapping around his neck, your fingers curling into his hair at the nape of his neck.

Gojo pulled away just enough to be able to speak, his lips barely brushing yours.  Your eyes were open now, staring into his, and for a moment the universe consisted of just the two of you, two celestial bodies drawn together by the gravity of your hearts.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven...?” he whispered.

“No.” you replied with a grin.

[sshannonauthor]

In 2025, witness the fall of the Kingdom of Yscalin.

🥀

Among the Burning Flowers, a short prequel to The Priory of the Orange Tree, is publishing in hardback, ebook and audiobook in September 2025.

Told by three characters – Marosa Vetalda, Estina Melaugo, and Aubrecht Lievelyn – it will not only feature another stunning cover from Ivan Belikov, but also beautiful interior illustrations from Rovina Cai. You can pre-order it here.

🥀

Yscalin, land of sunshine and lavender, will soon be ablaze.

It has been centuries since the Draconic Army took wing, almost extinguishing humankind. 

Marosa Vetalda is a prisoner in her own home, controlled by her cold father, King Sigoso. Over the mountains, her betrothed, Aubrecht Lievelyn, rules Mentendon in all but name. Together, they intend to usher in a better world.

A better world seems impossibly distant to Estina Melaugo, who hunts the Draconic beasts that have slept across the world for centuries.

And now the great wyrm Fýredel is stirring, and Yscalin will be the first to fall . . .

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, softdom jack, p in v, no protection (don’t do this kids!), praise kink and degradation if you squint, dirty talk, wet n messy!, subspace kinda, dacryphilia.

➴ word count: 3.4k

💌 from me to you: can we talk about how they completely forgot about the whole teaching thing and just straight up fucked each other? wild! also, will sarah and jackie wake up with trevor almost yanking jack’s door like morgan from criminal minds? maybe. have a nice reading loves!

𖧷

IF YOU had to describe what you were feeling, you’d have to say you are…

Well. Horny.

Being late to everything in your romantic life, you had never felt aroused towards a man before. Of course, you have had crushes on boys and you’d love if things went further than that, but besides Zack, you had never really intended on having sex with any of them.

Even with that guy back in high school, you only did it because you felt pressured to. You didn’t really like him, and you can only guess that he didn’t really like you either.

Until Jack.

You were sitting on the bench near the lake at your brother’s house, the bonfire near you is almost completely extinguished and you’re staring at the dark, lowkey scary lake in front of you.

It was late at night, everyone Trev had invited to his little lake party had already left, Jack included.

“Hey,” Jack’s honeyed voice reaches your ear, as you finish putting on your sweater. Everyone was inside already, and you could hear Trevor’s nonstop talk. “What’s up with the pouty lips, pretty?”

“I’m not pouting…”

He leans closer, chuckling. “Yes, you are, baby. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you sigh, hoping the darkness around you both hides the blush in your cheeks. “Can’t we move on to the next lesson?” Whispering, you look down to your feet.

Jack’s laugh makes you frown even more.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers. “It’s hard, baby. Trevor’s already complaining about you sneaking out at night and only coming back in the morning.”

“He would never connect the dots, Jack.”

“Baby—”

“Besides that, I’m twenty!” You raise your voice, only to lower it again. “I’m twenty, Jack. If I want you to f-fuck me, it’s my business.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

Jack had a playful, yet amused smile on his face, and you wanted to kiss him really badly.

“I mean, y-yes?”

He leans closer, briefly pecking your lips before stepping back. “Believe me, I want that too, baby. But we can’t right now, so be patient okay? I don’t want Z to give you too much trouble,” he sighs, putting his hands inside his front pocket. “Get inside soon, alright? Don’t want you to get cold. Text me if you need anything, pretty.”

You nod, watching as he smiles at you before leaving.

And you’re still outside, an hour later, with your mind working nonstop. The thought of laying underneath Jack, with his dick inside of you, in and out, while you’re nothing but a whimpering mess under him made you so fucking horny it isn’t one bit funny.

Before, when your friends or even Kiara would talk about wanting to fuck someone, you thought they were just exaggerating to make you want to do the same, and after your first time going awfully terrible, you started to believe that, but now, as you get up and head inside to pack your things, you realise they weren’t kidding.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asks, sounding tipsy as fuck. “Saraah.”

“I’m— I’m going to a guy’s house,” you blurt out, zipping up your bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“What?” He gets up, suddenly looking a whole lot sober, walking in your direction. “What do you mean? No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” You scoff, suddenly brave. “I’m twenty and last time I checked, I’m free to do whatever I want. And if what I want is to go to a guy’s house,” And fuck him until I can no longer speak. “Then I’ll do it. Good night.”

“What— Sarah!”

Trevor keeps shouting your name, but at this point, you’ve had enough of his protective bullshit. He’s been fucking girls since he was seventeen years old, so what’s the big deal anyway?

You call for an Uber and put on Jack’s address.

It was now or never.

𖧷

“I’M PLEASED yet scared to ask what you’re doing here, or how you even got here in the first place,” Jack laughs as he lets you inside his house. You look around, seeing the TV on with some random hockey game playing, and a bag of chips opened on the coffee table. “Does Z know?”

“No, but this time he’ll probably figure it out by himself.” You roll your eyes.

“Do I have to worry about him showing up at my door tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

Jack stays quiet for a while, walking towards you with a mischievous expression on his face.

“Are you this desperate, baby?” He whispers. “Are you so needy for something inside that greedy, little pussy of yours that you’ll run from your brother at midnight just to have my dick inside you?”

“Jack,” is all you manage to say, dropping your things on the floor and ending the distance between your bodies.

“Answer me, baby.”

“You already know the answer to that,” you close your eyes, holding the hem of your sweatshirt tightly. “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not being mean, baby. I just want to hear you say,” he grins. “Tell me, baby.”

“I’m— I am desperate. I want you so bad I think—” you breathe, opening your eyes to stare at his. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head. “How so, pretty?”

“I think about you all the time,” you start, pushing your embarrassment aside. “I wake up w-wet, after dreaming about you all night. Everyday before I get up I have to t-touch myself, pretending it’s your hand instead of mine down there.”

Jack leans closer and kisses your neck, inhaling your perfume right after, before squeezing your waist, hard. “Is that so, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Then you’re not the only one going insane,” he mumbles against your lips. “Because I think about you all the fucking time too. I’ve always cared for you, and you know this, baby, but you grew up and suddenly you’re not Z’s little sister anymore, you’re a fucking woman. And I want you so fucking bad, Sarah.”

You can feel his dick hardening beneath his pants and you try to get closer, even if it’s physically impossible.

“You drive me fucking crazy when you wear those little things that you call skirts, or when you wear those bikinis so fucking tight your tits look edible,” he chuckles. “When you asked me to teach you how to fuck? Sarah, you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted on a silver platter. All I could think about was fucking you.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me, Jack.”

“Sarah—”

“Don’t think about anything else,” you continue, running your fingers through his chest. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Fine,” he smirks. “I’ll give you what you want.”

𖧷

JACK IS absolutely gorgeous and you’re just one single step away from losing your mind. You had imagined Jack fully naked before, and even seen his dick and all of that, but once again, the entire thing did nothing to the real thing;

Jack has a tanned, toned body, abs that you wanted to wrap your hands around and squeeze— his thighs were toned and probably illegal in, like, forty-six countries at least. His dick was flushed and red, rock hard too, and his lips were slightly parted as he stood naked in the middle of the room.

“You’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He smiles at you, who’s also naked, dangerous and so, so lustful.

You smile and look at him with begging, doe eyes, before mumbling a small thank you— you remembered right before your first “lesson” started, Jack said that consent is sexy, and so is being talkative inside the bedroom. No humming, no nodding; just using your words and, if things got too much, saying “stop” would work just fine.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do tonight, sweetheart,” Jack started, shamelessly jerking off his dick in front of you. “You’re gonna come three times. Once on my tongue, once in my fingers and, finally, once on my cock. Are we clear?”

You whimpered, before whispering a faint “Yes.”

“Very well, baby,” his cocky accent crawled out of his mouth, accentuating the last word. “On the bed, hands and knees," Jack instructed, his voice dripping with dominance.

You scrambled onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, your heart pounding with anticipation. You felt vulnerable yet incredibly aroused, your pussy probably leaking against the sheets.

Even with the dim lighting, Jack could probably see how red— everywhere really; your ears, your cheeks, your nose, your knees— and how needy you are. Your pussy was practically dripping, drenched. Jack looked like he wished he could eat you out until you turned into sand in his hands.

And to him, you’re a fucking vision. Face sweaty and anxious, and he could probably tell how much you wanted to move or just do anything, but you were being good and letting Jack dictate what was best for you and oh.

Jack stepped closer to your pliant body on the gigantic bed and caressed it, his fingers tracing a path on your skin; while all you could do was just squirm in place.

“You’re just like a doll,” Jack said, softly but loud enough to make you fucking moan. “So pliant and needy. So easy to play with, even easier to break.”

“Jack.” You whispered, lips wet and shiny.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing that I can do whatever I want with you, with your body— I’ll mark you up, and then everyone will know how good you are for me and what you let me do with you.”

You shivered under Jack’s touch. He decided to be kind and move his fingers a little bit further down, until he was touching your clenching hole. He heard you hold your breath and he chuckled, finding it cute.

He leaned down on the bed, placing his knees on the floor, and kissing your thighs gently— he slowly made his way to your dripping pussy, his tongue licking all the way from your folds to your hole, making you moan loudly. It had been brief, just a light touch, but your knees got weak just the same.

“Hold yourself tight, baby.” Jack ordered, before diving completely into your hole.

And he ate well. He ate you out like a starved man who hadn’t eat in days as he licked and fucked you with his tongue, leaving you trashing under him— you weren’t even in all fours anymore, your knees had given up a minute or two after Jack inserted his tongue inside you. He was sloppy and messy, his spit practically dripping out his mouth.

“Jack, mhhmm, J-Jack, please.” You whispered, and it’d only encourage him to sink further, deeper inside you.

His hands were holding you roughly, and you knew it would look fucking amazing to see his handprints on your ass later. Oh, you’d ascend.

“‘m gonna… Jack, please, can I—”

“Come for me, pretty,” He said, getting his tongue out of you for just a moment, before diving completely again. You were trashing and whimpering, your eyes were in the back of your head, your mouth was open and there was so much wetness in your lips and. “Come for me like the good girl you are, baby. Come on, make me proud.”

“‘M gonna make you proud, I’m—” You were just a step away from actually yelling, with how loud you were sounding. But then. “Jack, oh.”

Jack stepped away, looking at the mess he’d made: you were flushed, sweaty, your hands holding the sheets for dear life, your hair stuck to your forehead. Your lips were red and wet, saliva running down your chin and your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. Your pussy throbbed between the sheets and your thighs were covered with your cum.

“Baby,” Jack breathed. “You did so well, sweetheart. Look at you, coming like a good girl. Aren’t you my good girl?”

“Y-yes, Jack, yes.” You stated, a small smile on your face, eyes still closed.

“How are you, pretty?”

“Fine. So fucking fine.”

“Good.”

He didn’t give time for you to recover, not really, manhandling you further up the bed. You whimpered but complied, too tired to do anything else; besides, you would do whatever Jack asked you to— too cock drunk to think of anything else. You simply wanted Jack to be satisfied, proud.

Without another word, Jack got up and captured your lips in a slow, ardent kiss. Your mouths moved together gently at first, then more urgently as he deepened the kiss. You melted into the touch, your hands coming up to grip Jack’s shoulders. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on Jack’s tongue.

He pulled away momentarily, a thread of saliva connecting your lips. "Keep making those sounds and I swear to God, Sarah, you’re not leaving this bedroom today," he breathed, before claiming your mouth once more, kissing you hard, his hand tightening on your waist.

You whimpered into the kiss, your body thrumming with desire. You wanted more, needed more. Breaking the kiss, Jack trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. You tilted your head back, giving Jack better access, your hands moving up to thread through his silky hair.

Sucking and biting his way down your neck, Jack left a trail of wet, purpled marks, marking you as his. You squirmed under the sensation, a keening whine escaping your throat. "Jack... please," you begged, not sure exactly what you were asking for, but knowing you needed something.

Jack stepped away for a moment, touching your pussy with cold, firm fingers, spreading your slick all over it.

"Shh, I've got you," Jack murmured, continuing his onslaught on your skin.

Jack said nothing as he inserted one finger inside your hotness, a fuck leaving his lips because, fuck, you were tight. He rubbed your clit, side to side, until it mixed with the remains of his saliva, getting it all wet and messy. He inserts another one, making you clench around his index and middle finger.

“You need to relax for me, baby,” Jack whispered, voice gentle once again.

“I’m, I’m— ah,” You moan, voice raspy and soft.

“Come on, pretty.”

You try your hardest— and you hope Jack can tell— and relax, making it easier for both of you. Jack fucks his two fingers inside you, curling them and searching for the thing that’ll have you whimpering under him like a slut.

He finds it after a second or two, making your body move up and up, trying to get away from Jack’s touch and he understands— you had told him it’d been a while (years) since you had sex for the last time and you had just came pretty hard so it was pretty easy for you to get overwhelmed.

Jack wouldn’t have any of it though. “Take it, pretty. If you fucking move again you’re going to take care of yourself alone because I won’t tolerate any fucking brats,” he breathed, watching as you gripped the sheets harder and— tears coming out of your eyes.

“No, no, Jack, please—” you begged and moaned at the same time because, fuck. Jack had just inserted his third finger in you and fuckfuckfuck. “‘m good. I promise. I-I’m good, y-you said it, I’m good, I’ll come, just— Christ, I’m gonna.”

It’s too early for you to be orgasming again, you’re both are aware of it, but; you’re coming and shouting and trashing, your cum coming out of you like you’re fucking squirting. Jack takes his fingers out of you, wiping them in the dark sheets, just to take a good look at you.

“Baby,” Jack whispered, knowing that you were probably deep inside subspace and everything could be too much. “Can you give me one more? Mhm?”

“I-I can’t.”

“How are you feeling, doll?”

“Good,” you whispered, like you were telling Jack a secret.

“Then you can, and you will,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even though you couldn’t see; you had his eyes closed once again. He manhandled you again, arranging you on the bed so your head was laying against the fluffy pillows and your back was on the bed. “You’ll give me one more, baby, and then you can rest. How does that sound, hmm?”

You nodded and just when Jack was about to remind you about your little rule, you opened your eyes and stared so deeply into Jack’s that he forgot about everything for a second. Jack knew he should always get a verbal answer and that he was probably being irresponsible but you seemed to be speaking with him with just a stare and Jack was weak, so, so weak that he just mirrored your action and nodded too.

He lined the tip of his cock with your hole, pushing forward and moaning because even with preparation you were still tight and squeezing his dick and fuck. He sank deeper and deeper until his crotch touched your bottom making you both moan at the same time. Tears were falling from your eyes and your lips were opened, sinful sounds making their way out.

“Fuck,” Jack moaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well, princess. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Ngh—” your eyes were full of tears and you felt his dick twitch inside you. God, he needed to fuck the shit out of you before you exploded.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, okay?” He warned, even though you were like a putty in his arms and he knew it was going to be hard for you to be verbal at that moment; you would need to discuss ways of communicating when you couldn’t properly speak but for now, you’d just try your hardest and hope for the best.

If there is a next time… right?

He put his arms behind yours, locking you up and he then really fucked you. His pace was fast and his thrusts were strong and accurate, hitting your sweet spot every time. You had tears all over your face, saliva all over your mouth and chin, looking like the cheapest fucking whore Jack could ever find. Whining to the point of making Jack’s own head dizzy.

“Ah, ngh, mmgh,” was all you would say, hands almost yanking all of Jack’s hair but he didn’t mind, no, of course not— not when you sounded like a bitch in heat, moans so sweet and delicious that felt like the syrup he liked to add to his breakfast pancakes sometimes. “T-too much, too— mmhmm.”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Jack was thrusting you like your lives depended on it. “Take it like the perfect fucking doll you are, baby, come on, pretty.”

You actually screamed when you came for the third time, almost no cum coming out at all, but your clit felt more sensitive than ever, it was too much and Jack was still hitting your spot like a maniac and Christ—

“You came all over yourself, yeah? Good—” a thrust. “Fucking—” another. “Girl—” another.

Jack kept chasing after his own release and when he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore, he left your inside just to cum on your tummy. You were fully crying now, sobbing quietly.

Jack looked at you, fondly, feeling his heart beating faster than it ever did. He knew you needed him but he couldn’t leave you dirty, so he lifted himself briefly, just enough to reach his shirt on the nightstand, which he used to wipe the cum, sweat and saliva on your— now— fucked body.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Jack whispered, not wanting to overwhelm you even more. He laid down beside you, wrapping your body gently in his arms and laying your head on his chest, covering you both completely with the duvet— that thankfully hadn’t gotten dirty nor wet. “I got you, sweetheart.”

“Was I g-good?” You whispered after a while, voice small and hoarse. Jack chuckled, combing his fingers through your locks.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered back, placing a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead, making you lean in closer. “So fucking good.”

You heard a soft hum and it made you smile. There, with your head on his chest, and the warmth of his body close to his, you realised something: you were utterly fucked because you liked Jack Hughes so fucking much.

You started all of this because you wanted to date Zack, and prove to yourself that you can please him in bed, like any other girl.

But in fact, you don’t want to do that anymore.

Phase four of getting Zack to like you. Phase one of getting Jack to like you…?

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her. 

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within. 

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont. 

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins. 

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?” 

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part. 

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[s-4pphics]

errrr……. hey…

uhhh this is awkward hey what do we do when we’re grieving? write ab arranged marriages slayyyyyy errrr yeah here’s that see yall next month or year or whatever

—

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone doesn’t waver nor break, voice engulfed in plainness.

It was one of the issues Ellie’s had since your marriage: an act to combine assets initiated by your parents. They never intended to have a daughter — you told Ellie the night of your honeymoon — but when your mother laid eyes on you, warming you with the skin of her chest for the first time, she painted your entire future in her mind. An object. The finest to be drenched and drowned in riches and diamonds, only living under multi-million dollar homes owned by your husband’s family name. Just as long as you played your role. A silent, unopinionated, docile baby-making machine.

Your parents nearly had a heart attack when they found one of your diaries filled with pictures of naked women, either hand drawn or torn from pages of your father’s filthy magazines. Your mother told you she should’ve aborted you, just when you thought you’d finally have a normal birthday party. The heavy breaths of your sobs extinguished the flame above your 18th candle.

But you’re 22 now; fabulously wealthy, married and…

Staring at your wife… plainly, even though the flames in your eyes rages war. The dining table is a battleground and a red dot punctures right through Ellie’s forehead. She’s not sure what you are.

Your marriage was not ideal. Not only was it forced and filled with shame, but Ellie grew resentful rather quickly. Towards the man that brought her into such a shrouded lifestyle, towards the heavens above for cursing her with life, but when she couldn’t attack, she brought it to your bedroom. You suffered, she’ll admit. It only took two weeks into your marriage for her to find an escape through other unassuming women while you laid in your shared bed with a tear-soaked pillow. You never knew when she’d come home, but when she did, she never failed to berate you. It carried on for months, the blame; blaming you for everything that’s happened to her thus far, despite her knowing that you’re a victim just as much as she is. You were her only emotional outlet. Or punching bag.

But despite every torment she threw your way, you never failed to smile at her the next morning with her coffee in your hands.

You always remained silent. Until now.

The delicious meal you prepared has soured on her tongue. All she can do is stare at you in disbelief.

She takes in the polite fold of your hands, 16 carat, rose gold, wedding band still on your ring finger. Her eyes rush over the plumpness of your lips, the delicate curve of your nose, the rise and fall of your chest… the way your breasts expand in your flowery dress with each breath.

Ellie swallows, nearly choking at the sudden dryness in her throat.

“… What?”

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone raises. Not aggressively; that wouldn’t fit you. You wanted her to hear you.

She huffs despite the burning tips of her ears. “I’m sure.” She mocks with a smirk.

Your eyes squint. “I’m not joking.”

“You know who else wasn’t?” She leans across the table, pinning you with her gaze, “Our parents. They don’t give a fuck about what we do and don’t want. We’re lucky they put us together.”

“I…”

Ellie flinches when your voice cracks to a whisper. Never once has the shell you mask yourself in cracked. Not once. Not in front of Ellie, your parents, her family, even strangers. You’ve never failed to put on a dazzling smile for the spectators.

“I want to be in love.” Tears free fall from your eyes and your chin trembles, “There’s no… I don’t have anyone. I never did.”

“I thought we could… at least be friends. I know you didn’t want this, I know — b-but… I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m dying—“

Ellie knows you’re talking about her, and guilt swallows her whole. It’s a shame, really; you’re gorgeous when you cry. Why’s her heart pounding this madly?

“I want someone to treat me like I-I’m alive, no one sees me, I d — don’t feel real —“

Ellie stands when your often assembled appearance begins to crumble. She’s never seen you so shattered, gasping for air like it’s limited. She recognizes this. You’re breaking, just like she did the night before she signed her life over to your family.

“Hey—“

Your seat goes flying back when your heeled feet plant on the marble floor, manicured nails clutching at the skin of your chest raw. She rushes over when your sobs crack, desperately trying to get air in your lungs with pleading and fearful eyes.

“Hey, hey, look at me, c’mon—“

Your fists pound against her chest in between wails, makeup streaking down your face, clumping your fluttery lashes. She calls out to you with hands on your soaked cheeks, tells you to count, to spell your name for her, but you can’t hear. You can’t function. Have you ever been this close?

Ellie curses before her hand flies into the jug filled with sphered ice cubes, shoving them into the side of your neck. They melt instantly from the heat of your skin, but you gasp and flinch from the cold.

“Yeah, feel that? Feels nice? Focus on that.”

Her hand delves into the jug until your jerky breaths calm into spluttered exhales. She’s sure she’s frost bitten.

You’re quiet again. Docile again. Anxious. Embarrassed. Heartbroken. And so fucking angry. Ellie’s getting whiplash looking into your eyes. They’re speckled with gold and… something foreign. She can’t place it. The hand on your cheek swiftly falls to her side.

“You—“ she clears her throat when you wobble, vibrating form pushing up against her, nose almost brushing hers, “You alright?”

But you say nothing, eyes distant. You simply step out of your heels with tightly clenched fists and jostled hair before walking towards the staircase.

“I’m very tired.” You say plainly over your shoulder before trekking up the steps. She watches cautiously until a door slams shut. She, after minutes of gawking at the staircase, takes in the scenery around her. Everything is where it should be… minus your plate is cold and untouched. But your wine glass is empty. She's not sure where the bottle is. Since when do you drink?

Her mind is unsettled and there’s a stutter in her chest. Your home is silent. A heaviness that weighs her down.

She assumed that the uncomfortable twist in her gut was from her own wrongdoings since your marriage.

Not at all.

Ellie’s concerned. There’s something off about you.

More off than usual.

[genderless-naper]

forgotten dinner

trafalgar law x gf!reader

↳ requested! sfw, angst

themes: feelings of abandonment, mentions of breakups, regret&guilt, unhappy ending

wc: 950~, lowercase intended !

you decide to set up a dinner for your anniversary with law. you planned for everything except for his common habit of forgetting things due to his work

⇣ credits to original artist

it was nothing different from a normal night. except it was indeed a unique night. it was your anniversary night. you’d think law would give you some sort of attention tonight. yet you sat alone at the small dinner table you fixed for the night in your shared living space.

you tried not to let your emotions get in the way. maybe he was setting things away in his office after he finished, and had to take extra long. there could be a million things holding him back at the moment. you kept your hopes optimistic for as long as you could.

the small digital clock echoed through the room every time an hour interval completed. one echo. two echos. three echos.

you stared at the extinguished candle and cold food. you drowned in your thoughts aoll alone at a table for two. you were glued to your seat unable to even check up on him to see what he was doing or tell him to come. maybe it was because you expected him to know to not be late.

you abandoned the entirety of the meaningful surprise, and made your way to bed. the thought of spending quality time with your loved one now a distant laughable hope you held for yourself. you sympathized with yourself. it’s not like you’ve done anything bad to be treated like this.

you drifted off to sleep with tear stained cheeks and a once smooth dress now all wrinkled up.

after a bit of time the door knob to the room opened. a deeply fatigued law entered the room. he did his usually routine before bed such as changing, brushing teeth, etc. he was so focused on the tasks that he hadn’t noticed the table, or you. it wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into the chair while rubbing his eyes that he noticed the arrangements you made. he questioned everything until the memories of your mentioned ‘surprise’ crept back into his mind.

the two dinner plates were left untouched, and the candle had hardened wax drips down the side of it. he glances at your sleeping figure that laid right at the edge of the bed. the effort you put into looking nice for him was noticeable.

law mentally cursed himself out for forgetting such an important date. you even reminded the man, and told him of a surprised that was planned, yet he still forgot. he imagined you sitting at a the table alone starring at your untouched food waiting to hear the door open. instead the man locked himself away with his work and research like he always did. the regret blazed over him.

he silently put away your set up careful not to wake you up. every step he took was filled with shame. by the time he finished it was well into the AMs. he turned the lights off and got into bed with you. he carefully pulled you close, but accidentally woke you up.

he mumbled quietly, “hey y/n.. sorry for being late.”

even in a stage of significant fatigue you we’re unable to forget what you’ve just gone through because of his lack of awareness. you pull away from his warmth to return to your spot on the edge of the bed. law tried to get close to you, but it resulted in you getting up.

law was confused by the actions, “what are you doing y/n-ya..?”

you quietly made your way around the room gathering the belongings you’ve placed. law grew worrisome with every item you collected. he followed in pursuit of you trying to grab the items and place them in their original spot. this went on for a few more times until you’ve had enough.

“stop it law! this has nothing to do with you, so go back to bed!”

you kept your head low. you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes after all the pain he’s bought you throughout the relationship.

the pressure of law’s anxiety got the best of him. it led him to fumble over sentences, “look i know you’re upset but you don’t have to make your things. come to bed we can talk this all out. i won’t let it happen again baby.”

law’s words went through one ear and right out the other. sense of his negligence was still present. the feeling of abandonment spoke your words before you could give a second thought, “am i that easy to forget..?”

law’s eyes widened, “what? why would you say something like that? you aren’t easy to forget y/n.. i just have a lot going on in my head and it slips out sometimes”

you turned your back to him. you braced yourself for your words, “maybe we should just break up… i mean this just isn’t working out.”

you swallowed a lump threatening to form in your chest, “i tried my best to always give you the benefit of the doubt but… you just aren’t going to change. i should’ve known better…”

you continued to pack your belongings. there were faded promises law tried to say to you. promises about how he was sorry, how he’ll do better, and how he would change his ways. they were all just surrounding noises your mind shut off from hearing.

the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed law as he watched you exit the once shared living space, and fully withdrawing from him.

he didn’t know what you two were at that point. the mention of you two breaking up ran through his mind. he wasn’t certain what to do now, but he knew for a fact that if he could go back in time he would redo everything to be different.

[a-b-riddle]

A Simple (Mis) Understanding Chapter One: Location, Location, Location

John

"MacTavish," It had been about three months since the 141 had returned from our last OP. It had been a rough one and, although, we had all come back alive, we didn't come back unscathed. And we all had to thank a pretty little IT 'expert' to thank for that. Stupid fucking Omega...

"Usually I'm the one calling you. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I threw back the amber colored liquor, finishing the last of my latest bottle. It seemed all I had in my free time was drinking myself into an early grave.

Good.

"Care for a hunting trip, Cap'n?" Johnny's tone was playful, which was almost always never a good sign. MacTavish could seek out trouble like a bloody bloodhound. 

"What d'ya have in mind?" I humored. I had come home to a sedentary life style. Any ideals I had about settling down, extinguished. I wasn't as young as I used to be, but I'm still too into the fight to retire now. So whatever Johnny had in mind, surely must be something worth at least entertaining.

"A pretty little flower." He says and I swear I can almost hear the see the smirk on his face. "Stands at about five foot three. Has a knack for stabbing a man in the back right after suckin' 'im dry."

Daisy.

"You got a lead then I take it?" I try to stifle the anger as I feel it beginning to bubble. Every Alpha instinct is telling me to track, hunt, kill. Before, every biological urge I had toward our flower was to protect, keep, and fuck until she forgot her own bloody name. Now, I wasn't so sure I could stand the sight of her long enough to get the answers I wanted-- needed-- before absolutely tearing her to fucking shreds. 

"Aye." He confirmed. "Wanted to see if you were up for it before I called the lads."

"How polite."

"You're still, Cap'n."   "And I know you had more..." There was a shift in his tone. Unease as he tried to find the words, but couldn't. He couldn't. None of us could. Because none of us could describe what had happened with Daisy. Betrayal is too gentle of a word, too short and modest of a word to describe what she had done to us; hell, me. Johnny cleared his throat. Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to retract the beginning of whatever statement he had intended on making.  "Join me to settle an old debt, ye?" 

I didn't need to think twice about Johnny's officer. An opportunity to finish what we started back in Austria. I didn't regret stopping Johnny as much as I did not getting the answers I needed before the little bitch disappeared like a damn thief in the night. Now was the chance. Not only revenge for what we had been through, but the betrayal she had put us through. Jeopardizing not only the 141, but the few loved ones we had. My mum, MacTavish's sisters, Garrick's entire fucking family and the little solace that Simon had. A peace of mind knowing if he wanted to start living again, he could. All of it was almost lost. 

"You got eyes on our-" No. She wasn't ours anymore. Not our girl. Not our flower. Sure as fuck never our Omega. "On her."

"I got an address." If he noticed my pause, he didn't say anything. For that I'm grateful. I can't be weak again because some of doe-eyed little Omega. One who whispered sweet lies about how good my knot felt and all the things she wanted in life. Things we-I- wanted.  "Had an old contact have her name pop up. Hen is too fucking dense to make sure to use an alias especially considering she stayed on our side of the pond."

Don't really plan on going home after this. Not really anything waiting for me back there except some student debt. She had hid the pain of having no family well, but, now after everything, nothing seemed genuine. Every kiss, every touch, every smile and laugh she had thrown my way was now tainted.

Now it was time to bury it all.

"I'll call Garrick." That was all the confirmation Johnny would get out of me. I didn't want to seem too eager to finally get my hands on her. I needed to be collected. Level headed. I was the Alpha. I was the one my team looked to for guidance. I had already failed them once. I damn sure wouldn't be doing it again. "I'll let you convince Riley to come along."

"Lettin' me call in the boogeyman?" Johnny was smiling again. Could fucking hear it in his voice. He was the one who had probably fallen the hardest for the little bitch. Indulging him in soft touches and soothing his temper. Probably the same reason he had put a barrel to her forehead the moment she had admitted to it.

I was going to tell you. She had tried to excuse her delay as if that were the issue. I just didn't know how to tell you. But can you blame me? Yes. We could. And we did. For the shitty last seven months. For the constant worry all of us had for having to pull our mind out of the mission to worry about what was going on back home.

Her tears didn't save her. Only until Laswell came in raising an absolute bloody stink. Claims of how the very audacity to potentially injure an Omega on her team could cost her career. Fuck her career.

"Send me the details." I pulled another bottle off the shelf. Promising myself it would be the last one I had until I finally pulled that weed of a woman out of existence. Killing her meant I could finally move on. Find someone, certainly not a fucking Omega, to settle down with. I could heal from the heartbreak I would never admit to. It would be the ending that we all needed.

"Will do Cap'n." Johnny didn't wait for my dismissal before he hung up. He was just as ready for a hunt as I was.

[amiya-shirou]

Spoilers about Babel and Zwillingstürme im Herbst

I was thinking about Arknights' recurring dynamic of siblings who must confront each other no matter how important the other is for them and realized there are more parallels than I expected between Theresa/Theresis and Arturia/Federico - to the point the latter pair feels like a still growing, less actualized, somewhat inverted version of the first.

Arturia is Theresa: focused on emotion and empathy, has weird mental powers (that interact pretty well with Theresa's, as seen in her interactions with Amiya), her ultimate ideal is a level of connection that goes beyond the scope of her own civilization and in trying to achieve it she's at the same time dooming herself, her halo almost looks like the Black Crown (which I doubt wasn't intended, since the Law is definitely comparable to Civilight Eterna). The contrasts between them are pretty evident too: a white Devil who perfectly looks the part of the saintess and a black Angel who perfectly looks the part of the villainess.

Federico is Theresis: the more down-to heart, more serious, less idealistic brother, who has difficulties expressing emotions to others (or even understanding them in Fede's case) and is extremely close to his sister but also feels he must stop her as her ideals lead her down a dangerous path for others. Theresa/Arturia are going against the will of the Myriad Souls/the Law, and Theresis/Federico confront them by acting as protectors of that will for the sake of the people that would be affected. Even in this case, there are evident contrasts: Theresis is seen as a negative figure, the villain in Theresa's story, while Federico is seen positively and Arturia is presented as the villain in his story.

Despite everything, the siblings know each other best. Federico can tell if a crime is Arturia's fault or not because he understands her more than anyone else; when Arturia's ideals crumble after the discussion with the Witch King and she seeks death, Federico is the one she wants to be killed by. Years of civil war and aiming for the others' destruction didn't put a dent in the trust and affection that exists between the Sarkaz twins, and when they're reunited in Londinium they're once again betting everything on each other like it's the most natural thing do to.

Civilight Eterna chose both Theresa and Theresis as successors for the will of the Sarkaz; they were special, the legendary twins with the potential to change Kazdel's fate. The Law calculated the immense adversities Terra is going to face in future, and chose both Arturia and Federico as the next Saints, essential for Laterano to prepare against them.

The one advantage the Giallos have over the twins is that they're younger, less caged by the collective will of their people. They can still reach a good middle point and work together for a better future without needing to extinguish the other for their ideal to prevail. While Theresa and Theresis understood the value of the other's belief, they were fundamentally opposed because they acted as the symbols of two separated possibilities for the Sarkaz, possibilities that clashed with each other despite their continued survival being the ultimate objective for both. Instead, Zwillingstürme im Herbst shows Federico taking steps towards Arturia and learning to use emotion as a way to understand her even if he can't feel them the same way she does, while Arturia realized the value of Federico's logical approach and that his approach can make her objective more concrete rather than just an abstract ideal.

Federico helps Arturia give footing to her philosophical inquiries, reminding her that it is possible to find an answer and reach a conclusion and that her ideals do not need to remain abstract but she can actually take steps to realize them; meanwhile, for how strong the Kazdel twins' bond is, Theresis will always be an eternal reminder that most of the Sarkaz reject Theresa and her dreams for an hopeful future, and was never able to truly help her sustain Babel. And just as Federico one-ups Theresis on this matter, the same does Arturia to Theresa: she wants to see her ideal realized, she has learned that she also has a role in her utopia and that she shouldn't forget about herself while seeking it, in opposition to how Theresa can only see herself as a sacrifice, the soil upon which the flowers will grow after her death. Theresa and Theresis were doomed by the weight of Kazdel's history and suffering, but the two Sankta's story ends in a hopeful tone as their fate is not yet written, and in fact both of them are less a symbol of the will of Laterano and more clear outsiders in their society, rare different voices in a very conformist state and thus have the potential to change it rather than be shackled by their people's voices.

[wheres-mylove]

silent love song | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: A pretty lady is convinced that Sihtric hates her, a pretty warrior is terrified of confessing his feelings more than fighting the most dangerous enemy, and the pretty boys simply have to spring into action, because you can't be more oblivious than these two.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

Hope in her heart extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. 

Sihtric Kjartansson ran away from her once again. 

The cool air was a welcome change after hours spent in a stuffy and stinky hall, overflowing with joyful men. Though drunken would be a more fitting description. The wind tousled (Y/N)'s hair as she quietly left the room to take a break from the chaos that only a band of celebrating warriors could create. She turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. In the dimly lit vestibule, she recognized Sihtric's figure. He stood there for a few seconds. Then, he spun on his heel and returned to his companions. 

(Y/N) let out a heavy sigh. Since she had never noticed the boy's flushed cheeks and how nervously he gulped, trying to find the courage to talk to her, she once again came to the following conclusion - Sihtric Kjartansson did not like her. From the very beginning. 

Poor girl rested her head against the wooden railing and closed her eyes in frustration. She didn’t even know what his problem was!

“What a cheerful mood,” commented Finan, nudging her with his elbow. “Is the lady planning to stand here in this abyss of despair or will she come back to us?” 

“Why don’t you go away and bother someone else?”

“My other friends have ugly faces. It takes away my drinking joy.” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head. 

“Are ya okay? Ale’s too strong?” he asked, then smiled playfully. “Sihtric is worried.”

The girl glanced at him and furrowed her brow in contemplation. She hoped Finan would keep it discreet after she said what she had intended to say. 

“I'm asking you, because you're an honest man,” she began, smoothing the material of her skirts just to occupy her hands. She had to know. “Sometimes even recklessly straightforward.”

“Thank ya,” he replied with a proud smile. Then he processed the second part of her statement and grimaced. “I guess.” 

“Why does Sihtric hate me?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “I don't mean that he has to like me, but he doesn't utter a word to me, while he talks to everyone else. He runs away at the sight of me! Even today. Is my company that unbearable, or did I do something to offend him? If it's the latter, I will apologize, for heaven's sake!” 

Finan stood there with raised eyebrows for a while. Then he let out a belly laugh. (Y/N) waited with hands placed on her hips until the Irishman stopped wheezing. 

“That's what you get when you ask a drunkard anything,” she retorted, about to walk away, but Finan held her arm.

“No, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've amused me so. Wait! Wait, woman.”

“You're making fun of my problems. If you told me that girls run away at the sight of you, I would at least explain why. Sometimes you're a real piece of shit.”

“Girls go crazy when they see me,” he protested, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “But ya make Danish warriors weak in the knees, so you have nothing to complain about! Sihtric worships the ground ya walk on, I'm serious now.” Finan straightened up and smiled, but this time more gently. “He's cute, but he's already wearing us all out with his tales about your beauty, so if you could just help us out…” 

“You're making fun of me,” (Y/N) replied uncertainly, searching his face for signs of deception. 

“For someone so wise, you're more blind than my grandmother in her final days,” Finan muttered, crossing his arms. “Think for a moment. He doesn't have to say anything. It's just that ya seem to have your eyes up your arse.”

“I should drown you in that barrel of ale. I'm going to sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” The girl jumped off the steps without looking back. 

“He bows when he sees ya approaching, even if miles separate ya,” the Irishman continued. (Y/N) reluctantly stopped, though her stubbornness still prevented her from turning around. “He stands near your tent at night, and believe me, no one dares to enter. Who do ya think takes care of your horse? The servants, to put it mildly, have been dismissed.” (Y/N) slowly faced Finan. “When trouble or danger arises, who magically appears in front of ya? Coincidence, right? And when we set up camp a week ago, I hope ya know that no one conjured those extra furs; they were from him.”

The girl looked down and sighed softly. 

“And the flowers by the entrance of my tent, I presume?”

“Aye, ya should see how enthusiastically he picks them! That beast has gone a bit mad for ya. Anything else, my lady?”

“When I said I have no means to defend myself…”

“A sudden surge of wisdom!”

“Be quiet,” she murmured with a smile, waving him goodbye.

“That's a nice dagger ya have!”

Because it’s Sihtric's.

A complete, humiliating, crippling defeat.

“Did you shit your breeches?” Uhtred yelled loud and clear, even before Sihtric could return defeated to their table.

“Come on, give him a break, lord.” Osferth threw Sihtric a comforting look and a tight-lipped smile. Sihtric messed up his hair and slumped heavily on the bench.

“I can't handle it, I just can't,” he admitted with considerable embarrassment. “If only she were a little less beautiful, everything would look different.”

“Close your eyes then,” Beocca advised from above his bowl of stew.

“God's wisdom knows no bounds,” Osferth commented in a voice devoid of emotion and glanced at Sihtric, who, in his misery, decided to down his ale in one go. 

“I don't understand you, I simply don't understand you,” Uhtred sighed. “A brave warrior, slaying enemies with a sword, an axe, even with bare hands. And he's afraid to simply talk to a lady.” 

“Uhtred, feelings have overwhelmed people more than once. The heart is not inclined to listen to rational explanations. It follows its own rules,” Beocca spoke up, folding his hands on the table. “Don't lose faith, Sihtric. Everything will work out.”

“He doesn't need faith, just some balls,” Uhtred protested, to which the priest and the baby monk gave him disapproving looks. 

“What? Nothing but the truth.”

“She wouldn't want me anyway,” the young warrior spoke, staring into the bottom of his mug. “She is a lady, and what am I? What can I offer her? What can I give her? It's pathetic. It's enough for me to admire her from a distance and know that she's safe; the rest is just a stupid dream.”

“He's entered the wailing phase,” Uhtred groaned. Leaning back, he looked towards the entrance. “Finan went to her. He probably annoyed her. Oh, he definitely annoyed her. Maybe she was already irritated that you messed up once again and exploded.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Gods, Sihtric, she was looking at you all evening. She went outside alone, so you had a perfect excuse to approach her, you fool.”

“It's not that simple-”

“My lady, what a beautiful evening it is today. You suddenly disappeared, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay. It is? Great. I wanted to be certain. And ask if you would like to sleep in my tent tonight.”

“Uhtred!”

“What now?”

“The savage speaks through you,” Beocca scolded him. Meanwhile, Finan returned and leaned conspiratorially over his dark-haired friend. 

“(Y/N) asked about ya, little runt.” 

“About me?” Sihtric raised his head so quickly that he almost broke his friend's nose. “What exactly did she say?” 

“Ya would know if ya had gone there and asked her yourself,” Finan replied with a wicked smile and darted back towards the exit. 

“Finan!” Sihtric shouted after him, immediately getting up from his seat. “What did she say? Finan!”

“If things continue to look like this, the opportunity will slip right past him,” Uhtred concluded, watching with amusement as Sihtric chased after the Irishman. “We need to corner him.”

“But how, my lord?” Osferth asked uncertainly. “He gets very nervous in her presence. I doubt we can…”

 “Anger is a bit stronger than fear. And I have an idea.”

 “Oh God, watch over us.”

Something was off. Aethelwold had never sat so close. And Sihtric's eyes had never gleamed with such fury. 

“That's exactly how it happened, my lady. I'm not telling this story to boast, oh no,” the royal nephew spoke, gesturing animatedly.

(Y/N) had hoped for a peaceful afternoon and a bit of quiet in the shade of the sprawling oak tree. She had some things to think about. She had to think about Sihtric. About Finan's words. And about things she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she had indeed surpassed the Irishman's grandmother in her blindness. 

Barely had she settled under the tree with an apple in her hand and a tangle of thoughts in her head when Sihtric appeared nearby. He must have had a lot to do in that area.

She lifted her gaze when she felt him looking at her. He blushed to the tips of his ears and bowed deeply. She smiled and was about to get up and approach him. (Y/N) had prepared a perfect excuse. The dagger desperately needed sharpening. Maybe Sihtric would confess that he had given it to her. But all dreams and plans were ruined by Aethelwold, emerging out of nowhere with an innocent smile. 

“My lady,” he began and sat down next to her without waiting for an invitation. “If it's not a bother, I'll keep you company for a while. I see it's not. We haven't had a chance to get to know each other better, don't you think?” 

(Y/N) wasn't quite sure what this arrogant man was getting at, but she decided to listen to his utterly fascinating stories for a while so as not to appear rude. 

Sihtric was seething. He thought Osferth was lying because Uhtred ordered him to. The young monk had told him in great secrecy that he overheard a conversation between Aethelwold and (Y/N)'s brother. The topic of discussion was an initial marriage agreement. Of course, Sihtric didn’t believe him. 

But now, before Sihtric's eyes, that pile of dung was cozying up to his lady. He was probably telling outrageous things just to brag. 

Sihtric Kjartansson sharpened his sword, carefully observing every move of Aethelwold. That poor fool felt beads of sweat on his forehead when their eyes met. 

“Lord, if you'll allow me, I'm very tired,” (Y/N) gently interrupted his never-ending story and got up, dusting off her dress. Aethelwold stood up with her and grabbed her wrist firmly, holding her in place. 

Big mistake. 

One pleading look from (Y/N) later, the man, royal or not, landed on his backside with a loud thud, forcefully pushed away. 

“The lady leaves when she wishes to leave, and you keep your hands to yourself,” the young Dane growled, to which Aethelwold raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“Yes, I apologize,” he quickly stammered, gathering himself from the ground and rushing off to an appointed place. 

“Never again, he looked at me like he were the devil himself,” Aethelwold said in a high-pitched voice. He extended his hand, on which Uhtred sprinkled a few silver coins. “I demand a barrel of ale added to my payment. He was sharpening his sword!”

“We saw. Someone got maaad,” chuckled Finan, trying to get a better look from behind the twigs.

“Important thing is, it worked. That justifies my lie, doesn't it, lord?” Osferth asked for a confirmation, pushing past Finan.

“God will forgive you,” Uhtred promised. “But you won't get the ale, Aethelwold. There was supposed to be a kiss too.”

“Of course! So he could kill me!”

Unaware of the trap set for him, Sihtric was seething with jealousy and a sense of injustice. She couldn't marry that scoundrel. 

“Thank you, I thought I'd never get rid of him,” (Y/N) smiled and bowed her head slightly. 

“Can I say something?” Sihtric asked with desperate fervor.

“You certainly should, it's rare,” the girl laughed, but her expression grew serious at the sight of his face. 

“Don't marry him. Don't do this to me and to yourself.”

“Sihtric? I'm not…”

“Aethelwold doesn't deserve you. Honestly, I doubt anyone ever will. He's a coward and you, (Y/N), need something more. Someone who will pledge you a sword along with their heart. And give you that whole heart until it becomes one with yours. Make you a part of their world in its very core. They'll dream of you because you're someone worth dreaming of. Worth of devotion and tenderness. They'll see in you not only the beauty that weakens me, but also the strength and courage that are evident in every move you make-”

(Y/N) looked at him for a while, her gaze wandering over his face. 

“Weaken you?”

“What?” Sihtric stumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his slip of the tongue.

“Why were you silent for so long if you speak like this?” (Y/N) sighed before rising on her tiptoes and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. Sihtric didn't open his eyes, afraid it was all a dream. 

“My lady? I... I apologize if it's too much at once…”

“Someone recently talked some sense into me, so now I know you've been telling me this all along, little by little,” (Y/N) confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “You spoke through your actions, Sihtric. I'm sorry for averting my gaze.”

The mighty warrior fixed his gaze on the tree, embarrassed to meet the girl's eyes.

“Did you at least like the flowers?”

“Very much. Where do you pick them?”

“It's a secret.”

“We can go pick them together sometime. And roll in the grass.” 

Sihtric burst into laughter and kissed her more passionately. The realization hit him that now he could. 

“Wait,” (Y/N) suddenly said, holding him back by the arm. “Where did the idea that I'm getting married come from?”

“Osferth told me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “And the person that told you-”

“Finan,” (Y/N) quickly interrupted. 

“One could have guessed.”

“No. Well, yes. But now I mean that Finan is standing over there and waving at us.” 

Sihtric turned around abruptly. Now not only Finan, but also the rest of the party left their hiding spot. The boys looked very pleased with themselves. 

“Right, Uhtred all along,” (Y/N) looked at Sihtric. “You frightened the poor man and he was just doing your lord's bidding.”

“He deserved it,” he whispered in her ear. They heard a cough behind them. Father Beocca also decided to grace them with his presence. 

“Is anyone else hiding in the bushes?” Sihtric muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I only came to inquire about when we're setting the date for the wedding.”

“Whose wedding? It's easy to get confused,” (Y/N) chuckled. 

“Yours, lady. With Sihtric, of course,” Beocca replied nonchalantly, pointing with his finger at the Dane still embracing her tightly. “Uhtred told me.”

[mykoreanlove]

Evaluation

Minho’s head fell back on the silky cushion.

He was exhausted, but utterly happy. You were still on your knees, sucking him off delicately for the third time this weekend. 

He clasped his hands behind his head and watched you giddily - his eyes observed your red nails gliding around his shaft, the spit drooling from your pretty mouth as well as your sticky hair that was glued to your forehead. 

He listened to your vibrant moans, wishing to capture this moment for eternity. 

He had no idea how you did it but you put him under a spell. Every touch of yours ignited a fire within him, one that could never be extinguished. 

Minho had a lot of experience, knowing a thing or two about sex but he had never encountered someone like you. Someone so sexy and devout, confident yet submissive. 

He swore he could have seen stars as he came into your pretty mouth, covering your throat with his warm cum. You wiped away the spit as you released him, looking up at him with your big doll eyes. 

Sex was messy, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You collapsed onto his broad chest as you came back to your senses, it didn’t take him a second to embrace you in the tightest hug known to mankind.

„Kitten“, he whispered softly. 

„Hmm“, you mumbled into his chest. You felt his whole body vibrating from laughter. 

„You are anything but ordinary, you know that? My little sex queen.“

„Sex queen?“, your head shot up confused.

„Yeah.“, he nodded. „I’ve never been fucked like that before.“

Your irritation was visible on your face. Minho had intended to compliment you, however he brought up an old wound of yours. 

„Kitten, what’s wrong? Did I offend you?“, he asked concerned.

You got up and rolled off him, walking to the other side of the room. Minho followed you hastily, your reaction made him anxious. 

„Hey, talk to me“, he demanded softly.

Your eyes were filled with tears. Even though the incident happened years ago, it still had the same dramatic effect on you.

„Can I hug you?“

You nodded your head, too ashamed to say a word.

Minho threw his arms around you, holding you completely naked under the moonlight.

„You wanna tell me what’s wrong?“

You took a deep breath as you recollected your first time ever.

„It’s about me losing my virginity back then. I was with this guy and he was way older than me and naturally the sex was awful. I was nervous and clumsy and sometimes it really hurt and I asked him to stop. In the end, he came but I didn’t and it was just horrible.“, you explained flatly.

„I’m so sorry, Kitten. I wish your first time had been special.“, Minho said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

„Oh no, that’s not the traumatizing part, Min.“, you shook your head. 

„It’s not?“

„No. That part came the next day when I woke up and he was gone. But you know what he had left me? A list.“

„A list?“, Minho asked confused.

You nodded. „A motherfucking list.“

„What was it about?“

Flashbacks of you reading each point found their way back into your consciousness, making you shiver with disgust. And yet, ten years later you were still able to recite every single point from that list.

„It’s a list about my sex skills. Or rather lack thereof.“

Minho’s eyes widened in shock, still not fully comprehending what you were saying. 

„Kitten?“

You let out a deep sigh.

„Point one. Be sexier. Don’t be so quiet. Moan and scream. Point two. Your head game needs a lot of work. Look it up. Point three. Don’t act awkward. You’re not a virgin anymore. Point four. You need to get better at shaving. He actually put a smiley at the end of that sentence.“, you rolled your eyes while recollecting.

Minho’s jaw hit the floor as he was too stunned to speak.

„Point five. Don’t tell a guy to stop when he’s getting into it. It ruins the mood. Point six. Don’t be shy. It’s not sexy. And last but not least. Point seven. Get on your knees if I ask you to. My pleasure comes first.“

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through Minho’s head right now. His blood was boiling, as he could feel his whole body getting hotter and hotter. What kind of jerk had the audacity to insult you like that?!

„You know, don’t get me wrong. I know that my first time sucked and I was very eager to learn. Like, I wanted to get better at sex. But his way of communicating that? I felt so small and disgusting. I gave my body to him, for the first time ever, and he critiqued me like a fucking ballet recital. And you know the funniest thing?“

You looked up at Minho, expectancy in your eyes.

Minho on the other hand just looked at you, trying his hardest to calm down. 

„That stupid list even had a name. A name!“, you laughed manically. „Can you guess it?“

Minho’s face turned white as he realized what it had to be called. 

„How to become a sex queen.“, you snorted. „Ain’t that funny.“