#it happened. it needed to happen. get over the like getting so caught up over it

[prettyngeto]

your lips, my lips (apocalypse) - 18+

satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: if someone told you you'd be screaming out the name of notorious fratboy satoru gojo for a reason other than to berate him, you never would've agreed to come to this party.

content (mdni): nsfw, college au (reader and gojo are both twenty), fratboy!gojo, gojo is an annoying little shit but he's hot so it's okay, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, dom!gojo, sub fem!reader, praising, dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!) inspired by this fanart by yunonoai

word count: 6.7k

playlist: fluent in bullshit

main masterlist || gojo masterlist || ao3

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, bodies moving drunkenly against each other to the sound of the music blasting from the multiple speakers around the house. Multicoloured lights were dancing around every surface visible, your face scrunching in disgust as you caught sight of a half naked couple practically eating each others' faces off against a wall. All in all, it was a typical Saturday night for the infamous Jujutsu High frathouse. Red solo cups littered the floor as you manoeuvre your way through the crowd, eyes scanning around for your best friend. Your hand moved to fish your phone out of your pocket, immediately calling her for assistance, because if there was one thing you were good at - it was getting lost and right now you were most definitely lost. However, it seemed like luck was not on your side tonight because of course tonight is the one night she decides to not pick up. A small whine of frustration left you as you craned your head, going up on your tiptoes to continue your search in vain. 

“The hell ya cryin’ for?” The deep familiar voice of the living and breathing embodiment of irritation rang through your ears. 

Satoru Gojo.

Yeah, luck was most definitely not on your side tonight. 

Gojo had been a constant in your life since you were kids, and not in a good way, in fact he was like that pesky fly that kept buzzing around your room at night even though the window was wide open. On top of this he just happened to be the president of the Jujutsu High frat - something he never failed to remind others of, so although it came to no surprise to anyone that he was here, his presence always seemed to antagonise you. The vice president and one of your mutual friends, Suguru Geto on the other hand was much more tolerable compared to the devil's spawn that currently had his arm languidly thrown over your shoulder as he leaned down to talk into your ear. His smirk widens when you roughly shove his arm off your shoulder and he goes to hold his hands up in a show of faux surrender. "Woah easy there princess, what's got you all worked up huh?" You click your tongue in exasperation and turn away from him, "You ever learn to mind your own business Gojo or do you get off on annoying everyone around you?" 

The glare you send his way only serves to intensify the smirk on his face, his tongue reaching out to lick his lips before he answers. "Nah not everyone, I only get off on annoying you, get it right y/n." The cheeky tone in his voice makes you groan in annoyance before you spin on your heel and walk away from him, the sound of his grating laughter echoing behind you. 'Seriously what was his problem? Someone needs to teach him how to shut the fuck up.’ The dynamic between you and Gojo has always been an… interesting one. It mostly consisted of him doing everything humanly possible to get on your nerves, from pulling on your hair in kindergarten to throwing scrunched up paper to the back of your head in high school and in return, you used him to learn how to perfect your punches, (which admittedly always hurt him but he'd never let you know that). 

“Y/NNN THERE YOU AREEE!” The squeal of your name had you turning around only to become entangled in the long limbs of your best friend, Yuri, simultaneously catching the attention of several others in the room due to the volume of Yuri’s voice. Yuri was the other (more enjoyable) constant in your life, a ball of sunshine who always got a smile out of you since the both of you had met at the ripe age of five. But she could also be a bit… loud, ultimately making you two the centre of unwanted attention wherever you went. “Bitch I’ve been walking around trynna find you for so long. Ugh, I think this is the most exercise I’ve done this whole year.” Yuri pants out once you’ve finally managed to get out of her surprisingly strong hold. You huffed, a small pout forming on your lips. “Yu, don’t be dramatic, it’s your fault anyway. I called you but someone decided to not pick up and then I had to deal with that annoying piece of shit. By. My. Self.” 

“You talked to Gojo? Gojo Satoru? Alone? And the room is still intact? Who are you and what have you done to my violent best friend?” The glare you send her way has Yuri giggling, an arm hooking into yours as she drags you upstairs to the room in which the rest of your friend group were currently playing some stupid games. Excited smiles and waves greeted you as you walked through the door, Yuri pulling you down to sit in between her and Shoko. “You two are right on time, we were just about to start a riveting game of seven minutes in heaven.” The sarcasm in Shoko’s tone made you stifle your laughter, head falling onto Yuri’s shoulder, as she gave you a playful wink in response. “Seven minutes in heaven seriously? What, are we horny 13 year olds again or something?” Yuri groaned, her head tilting to rest on top of yours. You hummed in agreement, boredom already evident on your face, “Yeah who’s dumb idea was this anyway?”

Suguru has a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he answers you, "Google's. We didn't know what to do so we searched up 'fun games to play at a party.' " He was met with blank stares until Shoko nearly choked on the puff she was taking from her cigarette at his confession, the room now filled with the sound of laughter and Utahime frantically rubbing Shoko's back in an attempt to stop her from coughing up a lung. "Oh by the way did anyone see Satoru, we can't start without him or he'll start whining. Fucker said he went to the toilet, it's been like twenty minutes." Suguru's voice broke through the laughter as he leaned back onto his hands, head tilting in curiosity. Your mood immediately soured, letting an audible groan at the sound of his name and to make things worse, this was the moment Gojo decided to make an appearance. His presence was overwhelming to say the least, and the fact that he was aware of the effect he had when he walked into the room definitely did not help his exploding ego. Grey hoodie slung over his shoulder, and hands tucked in the pocket of his matching grey sweats, a lazy smirk made its way onto his face, "Hope you guys didn't miss me too much." His eyes caught yours as he sat down opposite you next to Suguru who smacked him up the head for taking his 'sweet fucking time,' resulting in Gojo readjusting the black baseball cap he was wearing backwards with a whine. 

His sky blue eyes were shining with mirth as he looked you up and down from across the circle you all had formed, arms crossing and an eyebrow raising up at you in challenge. Your eyes immediately narrowed into slits as you stared him down, unintentionally locking onto the way his biceps flexed across his chest in the black compression shirt he never seemed to take off. He followed your eyes down to his arms, smirk widening as he not so subtly flexed his arms even more, watching in amusement as you try to hide the flustered expression in your face by rolling your eyes and looking away with a scoff. 

Shoko cleared her throat impatiently, "Are you two done eye-fucking each other now or can we get this stupid game over and done with?" She asked with a bored expression, looking between you and Gojo with a raised brow. This only seemed to fuel Gojo's amusement, snickering as your jaw went slack at Shoko's words, face twisting in disgust.

"You two. Cut it out. Shoko - you're right and I love you but we don't need Satoru bleeding out on my carpet tonight okay?" Suguru Geto ladies and gentlemen, ever the peacemaker. 

Utahime shot up from her spot next to Shoko, hands clapping in excitement as she retrieved a small black bag. "Okay everyone put something in the bag so we can figure out pairings. And thennnn, all you gotta do is go to the storage room next door for seven minutes. Simpleee!" She announced this with way too much excitement for your liking. Once everyone had dropped one of their belongings into the bag, it was simultaneously decided that Utahime would choose her partner first. Eyes scrunched closed, she dipped her hand into the bag, pulling out what was unmistakably Shoko's lighter. Loud hollers and cheers filled the room all the while Utahime sat frozen, face painted a bright shade of red. Wordlessly, Shoko sat up walking towards the storage room next door. Upon noticing that Utahime still hadn't moved, she turned around, tilting her head, a small smirk appearing on her face, "Ya comin' or not?" Let's just say you had never seen Utahime move so quickly in your life.

Seven minutes later, the pair walked back in the room with flushed cheeks and equally red lips that were sporting matching smiles as they both sat back down. Unfortunately for you, it was your turn to pick from the bag. Your hand reached out tentatively, rummaging through the contents of the bag as your fingers latched onto something cold. Pulling your hand out and opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of Gojo’s infamous silver chain pooled into your palm. Silence. Complete and utter silence… that is until Suguru’s dumb ass started cackling like a possessed soul, slapping his knee with tears of laughter gathering at the corner of his crinkled eyes. “I fucking love this game,” His words came out as what could only be described as wheezes, one hand on his chest as he tried to calm his breathing down. Meanwhile, Gojo was still wearing that ridiculous smirk of his, once again eyeing you up and down as you stared daggers into his soul, cheeks puffed out in anger. 

“I refuse.” Your words were sharp and precise, arms crossing in defiance.

“That’s not how it works y/n…” Yuri’s defeated voice came out in a whisper next to you.

“Well too bad that’s how it’s gonna work now.”

“Says who.”

“Says ME.”

The sigh being let out next to you indicated Shoko’s clear irritation with your antics as she stands up, dragging you with her by the elbow as you splutter out excuse after excuse. Gojo on the other hand, has been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. Your weak protests were interrupted when you were shoved into the empty storage room, followed by Gojo falling unceremoniously onto you, both of you crashing onto the floor. Before either of you could register your situation, the doors slammed shut encasing both of you in darkness. Gojo was still pressed against you, arms caging your head as a result of him trying to break his fall - and as far as he was concerned, he had no intention of getting away from you anytime soon. 

"Satoru Gojo get the fuck off me right now" you seethed through your teeth, your palms weakly pushing at his chest in an attempt to shove him off of you. 

"No can do sweetheart, I kinda like being this close, don't you?" You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, feeling his hot breath fan across the side of your face as he leaned impossibly closer to you to whisper in your ear. "Oh for fuck's sake Satoru are you fluent in bullshit or something? Get off meeee…" Your words trailed off into a small whine, clearly irritated by his antics but the teasing smile on his face only widened at your words, "Ooo first name basis already huh? This day just keeps getting better. You got a crush on me or something y/n?"

"Shut up Gojo, I hate you and you know it." You hissed out through burning cheeks, and you were struggling to figure out whether it was out of embarrassment or from the newfound fluttering in your heart. "You hate me huh?" His voice lowered, sending a shiver down your spine and you found yourself wishing his lips were closer to yours. 

“Yeah, I do. I hate you and your dumb voice and the way you always wear that stupid compression shirt to show off your stupid muscles and I hate your dumb attractive face and the way you're so stupidly tall and-” Your words catch in your throat when Gojo leans down to be face to face with you, his sapphire eyes darkening as they pierced into yours. 

“Oh yeah?” The husk in his voice paired with his proximity had you subconsciously squeezing your thighs together, breaths coming out in short pants from your ranting as you stared up at him wide-eyed. "Looks like it's you who's fluent in bullshit sweetheart cos this sounds more like a love confession to me," One of his hands reached up to grab your chin and tilt your face up towards his, thumb brushing teasingly over your bottom lip, making its way into your mouth and pressing lightly onto your bottom teeth - giving you no choice but to open your mouth, embarrassment coursing through you at the gesture. His smirk only widened at the action, his thumb pressing lightly onto your tongue, mind already racing with different scenarios, ‘Hm, maybe another time…’ he thought as he took his thumb away to grab the back of your neck to lessen the gap between you two.

You subconsciously lean into him, your body betraying you in every way. Eyes fluttering shut, heart beating impossibly fast, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You feel the warmth of his palm as his hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling you close, - closer and closer until his lips meet yours in a tender kiss. Your hands travel up from his chest, knocking over his baseball cap in the process, nails grazing his undercut softly, drawing him impossibly closer to you. Fingers moving further into his hair, you pull the soft white strands in a show of desire, resulting in a deep groan being let out into your mouth by Gojo as he presses his hips into yours in retaliation. A soft whine leaves you and you swear you feel him smirk before gently prodding his tongue against your lips. You part them for him, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of passion, your own hips now greedily grinding up into him. The warmth from his mouth disappears, his hot breath hitting your neck bringing you back to reality as your eyes slowly open only to find him staring at you with that cheeky smile of his. “Someone was enjoying herself hm?” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, eyes flitting back to your lips every so often. “Shut up Gojo.” You whispered, still very obviously affected from what was possibly the best kiss of your life as you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh come onnn, I think we’re past this, say Satoru for me baby.” Twinkling cerulean eyes bored into yours, watching you become increasingly flustered at the pet name. You turned away from him defiantly, refusing to speak but that only urged him on further, voice like dripping honey as he leaned down to speak into your ear. “C’mon sweetheart, you can do it, I believe in you. Look at me and say my name with that sweet voice of yours for me hm?” Gulping, you look up at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks, mouth parting ready to speak, when there's a series of knocks against the closet door, Suguru's deep voice a mere echo in your ears. A loud groan was let out above you as Satoru threw his head back in annoyance, “Ugh, so close. It’s okay princess, I’ll make you scream it soon enough,” he said with a wink as he finally got off of you whilst picking up his forgotten cap from the floor and placing it backwards on his head. He looks down, a hand reaching out to help you up. You take his hand and he pulls you up, biting his lips when you look up at him with those pretty eyes and for some reason he can’t bring himself to look away, both of you forgetting the fact that you were supposed to be getting out of the room.

"Yo Satoru, time's up get outta there." Light floods in as Suguru flings the door open, and your throat gets dry once you notice the desperation darkening Satoru's eyes. With heavy breaths, heaving chests and faces flushed with passion, neither of you seem to be able to look away from the intensity emitting from each other. At this point, there isn't a single thought in your head other than the man standing in front of you, looking at you with so much passion that you fear you'd never be able to look at another man without being reminded of him. The sound of a throat clearing brings both of you back to reality, Surguru watching you with a knowing smirk and crossed arms. Satoru on the other hand, doesn’t even acknowledge his best friend, instead opting to reach for your wrist, practically dragging you away down the other end of the hallway to where his room is. “Fucking took them long enough my god…” Suguru mutters under his breath, making his way back to his room already excited to tell the others about your escapade. 

Meanwhile, Satoru has you pushed up against the door of his bedroom, lips impatiently clashing with yours, hands caressing each other frantically. His cold hands had slipped under your shirt making you hiss slightly. His hands continued to make their way up, his thumbs teasingly rubbing your nipples through your bra, your whimpers getting lost in his mouth. Your own hands were gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You feel one of his hands moving down to unbutton your jeans, his pinky finger swiping the skin just above the waistband of your underwear, making you buck your hips needily into him. “Fuck baby, I can feel how wet you are through your panties. Messy girl aren’t you?” He mumbles, nipping your ear softly as his fingers start to tease your slit through your underwear. Your whimpers only encourage him further, pushing your panties to the side, tips of his fingers rubbing your clit. Your body was growing responsive to his touch, leaning further and further into him, face buried in his chest as you feel yourself get impossibly wetter. Soft pants left your mouth, one of your hands shyly reaching down to grab his bulge through his sweatpants making him moan into your neck, your eyes widening when you feel just how big he is. You let out a particular loud squeal when two of his long fingers entered you without warning, body squirming as you tried to adjust to their size. Satoru had resorted to biting and sucking your neck in order to hold back his moans as you continued palming him, your cute little whimpers making him harder underneath your hand. His voice comes out in a growl, eyes now boring into yours, fingers relentlessly going in and out of you, painting stars in your vision. “T-toru…” The whimper escaping you had his gaze softening slightly, “I know baby, I know. Be a good girl for me and take it, yeah?” Your eyes screwed shut as you nodded weakly at his words, the praise making your pussy clench around his fingers.

"Shit baby you're so fucking tight around my fingers, you sure ya can take my cock? I don't think it'll fit in that tight little pussy of yours" He leans down to playfully nip on your ear and there's a taunting smile playing on his lips when he meets your eyes again. A defiant look crosses your face, the need to prove him wrong still as strong as ever, even if he is currently turning you into a brainless mess. "I can take it…" your retaliation would've been much more believable to him if your words weren't beginning to slur, coming out in soft pants. So Satoru did what he knew how to do best.

He teased. Mercilessly. 

"Aw my pretty little baby thinks she can take it? Yeah well, you're gonna have to cum around my fingers first if we wanna fit my dick in you sweetheart. But I don't know how much I'm willing to let you cum." His taunts are followed by a cruel curl of his fingers, his knuckles bullying your inner walls, your juices dripping down onto his wrist from how wet you were. You were so so close, fingers clenching around the front of Satoru's shirt, your head buried in his chest as your eyes were scrunched closed in pleasure, small tears threatening to fall from your lash line. 

“You fucking dickhead let me cum please,” you mumble out into his shirt, his fingers relentless in their teasing turning your desperation into frustration. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum baby? Beg for it.” The words coming out of his mouth were nothing short of torture for you as he stopped his movements, fingertips now rubbing your clit in gentle circles, all the while looking down at you with that infuriating smirk of his. See, usually it would take more than those three words for you to listen to Satoru Gojo of all people, but considering the fact that his fingers alone were making you see stars, it was clear to all what your choice was. 

“Please…” you breathe out, face finally coming up from your hiding place in his chest to look up at him with blown pupils, tears still pooled in your eyes and wobbly lips. Gojo’s breath hitched when you made eye contact with him, his throat going dry at the mere sight of your already dishevelled appearance. Fuck, it made him want to ruin you even more so who was he to deny your pretty plea. “Only cos you asked so nicely”, he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping against your lobe, his fingers going in and out in the most toe-curling ways. You felt your eyes roll back as one of your hands clutched the front of his shirt, the other palming him through his sweats, mouth open, letting out what Satoru believed was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard as you squeezed around his fingers, thighs shaking ever so slightly as he continued rubbing soothing circles on your clit.

Satoru’s half-lidded eyes were stuck to you, the image of you cumming on his fingers now permanently etched into his mind. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, a groan emitting from the back of his throat, but of course he couldn’t help himself from muttering yet another cheeky remark. 

“You know, for someone who claims to ‘hate’ me so much, you seemed to enjoy cumming on my fingers a bit too much.” The glare you throw up at him would usually have more venom but seeing as you just had what could only be described as the best orgasm of your life (although you would never admit this to his face), all your ‘glare’ did was make Satoru’s smirk widen. 

"F-fuck you Gojo,” 

"That's the plan sweetheart."  

In a matter of seconds, you felt arms snaking under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and dropping you onto the middle of his bed, navy blue silk sheets rippling underneath you. Of course he would have fucking silk bedsheets, rich prick. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when you see Satoru standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes, his tongue coming out to swipe across his lips hungrily as he slowly starts taking that damn black compression shirt off, making a show out of it as he does so. Trust him to be able to turn into a stripper at will. You gulp, scanning him down whilst he makes his way over to you, eyes locking onto the outline of his cock through his grey tracksuits. He’s now on top of you, forearms on either side of your head caging you in, soft strands of white hair falling over his eyes; eyes which he hadn’t taken off you since he locked the door. 

“You’re awfully close,” The words leaving your mouth are barely louder than a whisper and he could feel your breath hitting his lips as you spoke. 

“Problem, sweetheart?” He whispers back, leaning his face down impossibly closer to yours, his fingers gently snaking in between yours at the sides of your head. You bite your lip in anticipation, “No but it will be if you don’t fucking do something,” the retort leaves you before you could think, impatience radiating off you as you look at him through your lashes.

“Knew you secretly had a thing for me this whole time.” He lets out a low chuckle and before you could snap back at him, his lips come crashing down onto yours, hands squeezing yours essentially pressing you down further into his annoyingly comfortable mattress. He grabs both of your wrists into one of his hands, the other making its way down your hips and into your jeans, tracing the waistband of your panties. Meanwhile, your lips have resorted to leaving small kisses across his jawline, sucking little marks down the side of his neck making Satoru let out a soft whine into your ear. And you decide very quickly that you like the noise he just made so, of course, you bite down onto the junction between his neck and his shoulder, one of your hands leaving his grip and sneaking into the waistband of his tracksuits, straight into his boxers stroking his (very hard) length, causing him to let out a quiet growl, his face buried in your neck. 

Evidently, this was his last straw. 

Here you were getting up close and personal with his neck and the next thing you know he’s flipped you over onto your stomach, hands dragging your jeans and panties down your legs, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. “Fuckkk I can’t wait to ruin you,” he practically growls the words out as his palm lands a loud smack onto your ass, a squeal of surprise escaping you, your head turning back to look at him with narrowed eyes and you swear you nearly came on the spot from seeing him kneeling behind you, toned abs on full display, that stupid baseball cap still backwards on his head as he admired your half-naked body sprawled on his bed.

“What? I’m only saying the truth” he shrugs whilst ridding himself of his tracksuits, dragging his boxers along, his hard cock springing up hitting the base of his stomach. His hand comes up to stroke it lazily, and you keep looking back at him, your pupils blown wide, almost mesmerised by his actions as he lets out a soft moan when his thumb swipes across his tip. Your body squirms at his actions, the need to feel him inside you growing by the second and he notices, of course he notices his gaze hasn’t been anywhere else but you this whole time. You feel his cold hands grip your hips, a shiver running down your spine as he manoeuvers your hips upwards, “Ass up for me sweetheart,” he mumbles, his knees pushing yours outwards and spreading your legs open in the process. 

“There we go, good girl. So wet for me hm?” His sweet mumbles went straight to your core, your pussy getting embarrassingly wetter with every word coming out of his mouth. You let out a staggered breath, feeling him get closer to where you needed him most, the tip of his cock teasingly rubbing up and down your slit, eyes fixated on how your pussy seemed to clench around nothing. “Satoru I swear to god if you don’t- ” your grumble was interrupted by a loud squeal as he finally inserted himself into you with one swift movement. 

“Fucckkk you’re so tight, this what you wanted princess?” he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure, his hat falling off his head in the process. The hand that wasn’t gripping your hips reached back to retrieve his hat, placing it haphazardly on your head, a wide smirk gracing his lips as he admired you, your ass still squirming against him as you tried to adjust to his length with soft whimpers leaving your lips. He pulls out, leaving only his tip inside you before slamming himself back in as you whine out a loud “Toruuuu” into the pillow that was currently clutched to your chest, forearms pressed into the mattress to hold yourself up. He starts moving in and out, irritatingly slowly at first, just to antagonise you that little bit more, make you that little bit more needy for him. Because, fuck he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing the mouthy brat that always had a snipy remark for everything he did be at a loss for words, going dumb on his cock when he hadn’t even started fucking her yet. 

“Is this what all the girls were raving about? Cos right now I’m incredibly unimpressed Satoru,” you breathe out, a cheeky smile playing on your lips as you turn your head back , eyes finding his behind you. His eyes narrow as they stare back at you, not amused by your taunts in the slightest - so he picks up the pace, hips slamming into you as your mouth falls open, fingers tightening around the pillow underneath you, head falling down to your chest as you try to muffle the sounds threatening to escape you from the sudden pleasure. One hand is gripping your hip so hard, you were sure there would be a mark there and the other is teasingly running up and down your clothed spine. 

“O-oh fuck why do you have to feel so gooddd” you pant out begrudgingly, the end of your sentence forming into a whine as your hips moving back in sync against him. “Yeah? Ya still unimpressed? Or should. I. Go. Harder.” Each word was accompanied by a particularly hard thrust, your moans getting too loud for your liking, and you lose all sense of control in your body as you feel yourself move up the mattress with each thrust. The hand teasing your spine bunches the back of your shirt in his fist as he pulls you back onto his cock, “Now where do you think you’re going sweetheart? God, you have no idea how fucking good you look right now.” he breathlessly mumbles out, his voice deeper as he watches you struggle underneath him, your hair splayed out on your back, his hat still on your head, knuckles turning white from clutching onto the pillow so hard and the sweetest sounds leaving your swollen lips. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life, feeling yourself leaking down your thighs and of course Satoru takes note of this, his free hand swiping the dripping wetness from the inside of your thigh with his nimble fingers, moving to circle your clit in slow movements, his thrusts getting faster. “S-so good holy fuck~” you whine out, eyes rolling back into your head. 

A snicker escapes Satoru as he watches you fall apart further, mouth open and drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth as your cheek is squished onto the pillow underneath your head, your soft whimpers and pants making him want to fuck you harder. He moves his hand from your clit to grab your jaw, making you twist your head to face him as he rudely shoves two of his fingers into your mouth and you instinctively start sucking on them, drool now freely dripping down your chin as he pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue in the process. He kisses his teeth in faux annoyance “Tch, messy girl aren’t you?” He taunts, leaning his body down onto yours, his other hand brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead in an almost sweet gesture in comparison to the way he was practically slamming into you, and the cute moment was effectively ruined when he bunches your hair into a makeshift ponytail pulling your head back, his hat falling off your head all while thrusting into you deeper. You let out a particularly loud squeal, muffled by his fingers in your mouth and his smirk widens, repeatedly hitting that same spot with the same vigour as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Fuck you’re taking me so well, such a good girl for me.” He removes his fingers from your mouth, tilting your jaw to the side as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, his hips never seeming to falter in the cruel pace he’s set out for your pussy. All you could do was whine into his mouth, any semblance of speaking having already left you the second he had put his cock in you and with the way he was hitting that spot inside you, you don’t think you’d be able to speak again. He pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you, spit dripping down your chin as you look at him with clouded eyes and a flushed face. 

“Look at you pretty girl, fucked you stupid haven’t I?” he mutters, looking at you with such awe, his hand still gripping onto your jaw as he leans his body down onto yours, his cock now reaching deeper into you as his thrusts start to become harder, your body jolting and your moans getting louder with every move. “T-toru, ‘m close,” I pant out, letting out small sniffles. “Yeah? You wanna come for me?” he taunts, his hips slowing down on purpose, the hand holding your hair pulling your head back further with a harsh tug for his lips to scatter soft kisses and nibbles on the sides of your neck as you nod impatiently, tears brimming in your eyes. Another whine escapes you as you look at him pitifully, pupils blown wide and lips trembling as you become desperate for release, grinding back onto his dick for in need of more friction. He tuts, his hands moving to grip your hips, stilling your movements. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he grits out, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck and pinning you down, cheeks squished onto the mattress. “You wanna come, you beg for it like the good girl I know you are, understand?” Tears of frustration were now freely running down your cheeks, your face an absolute flushed mess of tears and drool and the sight of you was enough to make Satoru cum right there and then. He thought he should be getting an award for the amount of self control he’s shown so far. But he was quickly brought back to reality when he heard your precious, albeit muffled, voice whimper out a “Toruuu pleaseee~ please lemme cum”, paired with those pretty big eyes of yours and your pussy walls clenching almost teasingly around him, made him choke back a moan. And when you were begging so prettily, how could he say no to you? 

“That’s my girl” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head before his hips once again began snapping into you relentlessly, the warmth from his body almost lying on top of your back making your head spin. His thumb found its way back into your parted mouth once more, pressing into the back of your bottom teeth, forcing your mouth open further causing even more drool to spill from the corners of your mouth, rendering you a helpless mess underneath him. His free hand slithered its way down to your clit, fingertips rubbing it tantalisingly slowly, your legs were already shaking and his ministrations on your clit made you want to close your legs. Your actions were quickly stopped by Satoru, his hand gripping your thigh pushing your leg further out, your fingers gripping onto the sheets in front of you for dear life at this point. “Keep 'em open,” he hissed out, fingers going back to your clit once he felt your walls squeeze around his dick. “C-cumming Toru~” your words were muffled and barely comprehensible as you babbled around his spit-covered thumb in your mouth. “Yeah? Cum for me sweet girl, c’mon you can do it,” He purred out, the sound of your wet pussy and his hips snapping into yours filling the room. Your jaw went slack, his thumb leaving your mouth to now rub soothing circles onto your jawline as he watched you come undone beneath him, his breath staggering as his self-control was slowly disappearing. “There you gooo, such a good girl. You did such a good job for me baby~” He cooed into your ear, his other hand going gently up and down your spine. “Can you hold on a bit more f’me?” he asks, checking in on you with a soft look in his eyes, and you nod, still dazed from your orgasm. He lets out a small chuckle at the state of you, “Good, cos I’m not done,” he grits out, flipping you over onto your back and resuming his thrusts in you all while looking down at you, his chest glistening with sweat, the front strands of his hair sticking to his forehead slightly. You bite your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes and you bring your arms up tiredly looping one around his neck bringing him closer down to you as the other brushes away the hair from his forehead, mimicking his earlier actions.

“Fuck ‘m so close sweetheart” he whimpers out, his head falling into the crook of your neck as his steady rhythm wavered slightly. “Cum f’me Toru~” you breathe out sweetly into his ear, your hands tangled in his hair as you hold him close to you and Satoru swore he saw heaven when he heard those words in his ear as he lifts his head from his spot in your shoulder, panting out. “W-where do you w-” before he could even finish his question you looked him straight in the eyes and whimpered out your answer, wrapping your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you.. “Inside please…” A loud groan leaves Satoru’s lips as he throws his head back at your words. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me sweetheart,” he grumbles out, his hips staggering as he cums, filling you up with his warm load and you stare up at him through wet lashes, clenching around him purposefully just to hear him whimper again. 

He collapses on top of you, sweaty chest sticking to your equally sweaty shirt, letting out a huff, mumbling in your ear, “Best. Fuck. Ever.” and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle, running your fingers through his hair gently. “Shut it Gojo,” you retort, biting back a smile when his head whips out of his hiding place in your neck, face contorting into an expression which could only be described as complete disbelief and confusion. “Sweetheart I just fucked you speechless on my cock and you wanna go back to last name basis? Be so for real right now.” Although your face flushed at his words, you burst into giggles at his last statement. Trust Satoru Gojo to still have the audacity to be sassy after sex. 

“Sorry Toru~” you purr out, nails grazing up and down the back of his neck.

“Better.” he mumbles out, lips formed into a slight pout as his face plops back down onto your chest. 

“So like… you still hate me?”

“Ehhh, guess you’re not so bad after all.”

“Are you just saying that 'cos I made you cum?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking brat.”

ミ★ notes from star: the ending was a bit rushed but i hope you enjoyed it lovelies!

prettyngeto © 2024. all rights reserved - please do not plagiarise, translate, steal and repost any of my works on any social platforms for whatever reason.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake.  So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

[thedensworld]

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Pairing: celebritySeungcheol! x celebrityReader!

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

*

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

*

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

[loveesiren]

Help Me (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Synopsis: Rafe and Y/n admit their feelings for eachother.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mention of sex trafficking, mention of drugging

Word Count: 2.7k+

You opened your eyes to a dimly lit room you didn't recognize. Holding your breath as you scanned the room slowly, trying to remember what the fuck had happened. You weren't in a hospital. You definitely weren't in your room, or any bedroom on the Cut for that matter. The ceilings were high, the bed way larger and softer than your own. Your eyes made way to the chair beside you. You jumped slightly at the sight of someone sitting there but quickly realized it was Rafe.

He leaned back in the chair, gripping a pillow as he snored lightly. "What the fu-ahh!" You hissed as you tried to sit up, falling back down as a searing pain ripped through your core. "Fuck!"

Rafe heard you and woke up immediately. He was instantly by your side. "Y/N, you're up!" His voice was almost child like.

"Where am I Rafe?" You ask as you put pressure on the pain in your side.

"Tanneyhill," He responded. "My house."

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"Just rest for a second. Let me get you some water." He says, taking a glass from the bed side table and going to the bathroom sink to fill it.

You sit up slightly, leaning back against the pillow. You were starting to feel more pain running through the rest of your body. You ran your fingers over your face and traced the stitches that wrapped around your right temple. You pressed lightly on your cheek and winced as you felt the bruising there.

"Here," Rafe said, handing you the glass of water.

"Thanks," You say before chugging as much water as you possibly could, not realizing how thirsty you were.

Rafe stared at you intently. There was a sadness in his eyes. Pain, like just looking at you caused him physical ailment.

"I'm guessing my dad did this to me?" You ask softly, more of a statement than a question.

You could see a tear fall from Rafe's eye but he quickly tried to wipe it away as he nodded his response.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N..." Rafe's voice cracked.

"It's not your fault my dad's a dick, Rafe."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry for how I treated you the last few days. I'm sorry for what happened with JJ. You didn't deserve the way I treated you and neither did he. You're the only person who has ever really cared and that scared me and I-"

"Rafe," You cut him off. You offer a slight chuckle. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"You do?" He sniffled, looking up to meet your eyes.

"Yeah, I do. People make mistakes. And, I'm not sure what exactly happened but it's obvious you've helped me considering I woke up in your house to you sleeping beside me."

Rafe smiled, relief washing over his face. You reached out and took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"You're a good guy, Rafe. I've been able to see that since the beginning."

"I don't know about that," He chuckles. "But I do know I'd do anything for you."

You smiled softly up at him. His blue eyes glistened behind his remaining tears. Strands of his messy hair fell in his face. He was quite literally the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

You caught yourself staring and quickly changed the subject. "So, uhm, where's my brother?"

"He went to take care of some things." Rafe said, his demeanor changed with his sentence.

You squinted your eyes and bit your lip. "What things, Rafe?"

"Look, Y/N-"

"Rafe, tell me where my brother is."

Rafe sighs. "Your dad did something really fucked up. You're not safe right now. That's why we brought you here. JJ is trying to fix it."

You started to feel panic rise in your chest. JJ was impulsive. You didn't want him getting himself into trouble.

"I've gotta find him," You say as you pull the covers back and try to get out of the bed. You felt a sharp pain in your ankle and you were instantly on the floor. "Ah, fuck!" You cry out.

"Y/N, baby, no. You have to stay in bed. You need rest!" Rafe said as he scooped you off the floor.

Feeling his arms around you calmed you down. He was strong, really strong, but gentle. His skin was soft and warm. And his scent, oh God, his scent. He smelled like the ocean after a tropical storm, hints of lavender and eucalyptus. You realized you'd never been this close to him before.

"Listen, we can call JJ right now, okay?" He promises.

"Yeah, okay..." You said as he helped you get situated back in the bed.

"Just relax." He told you as he pulled out his phone a dialed JJ's number.

"Dude, hey..." Rafe began. "Yeah, she's awake...yep, yep she's fine." He said as he smiled at you.

"Let me talk to him," You demanded as you held your hand out for the phone.

"Yeah, here she is." Rafe said before handing the phone to you.

Y/N: JJ? What the fuck happened? Where are you?

JJ: Look, Y/N, I have some shit to take care of. I need you to stay at Tanneyhill.

Y/N: You need to tell me what you're doing. Why am I not safe? I need to know what's happening.

JJ: I'll explain later. I love you, okay? Just stay with Rafe.

He quickly hung up the phone. You could hear he was with the others. His lack of explanation formed a ball of nerves in your stomach.

You sighed and handed the phone back to Rafe. You knew if JJ had willingly left you alone with Rafe Cameron, something big was going on.

"Rafe..."

"Yeah?" He asked softly, knowing what was coming next.

"What did my dad do?" Your voice was shaky. Your dad had done a lot of fucked up shit but you could tell this was something much worse.

Rafe fiddled with his hands, unsure of how to get the words out. "He uhm..."

"Look, Rafe, it's obvious he beat the shit out of me. But what the hell is going on that I am being kept in your house for? I mean, no offense, you're great, but JJ would never have left me here if there wasn't something bigger going on."

"Okay, okay." Rafe said. "Your dad, uh, he drugged you. You've been out for like a day and a half..."

"Okay..." You said, waiting for him to continue. You knew there was something else.

"He, uh, h-he was trying to sell you, Y/N." Rafe's voice cracked.

Your jaw dropped. "S-sell me? Like...to traffickers?"

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. And I-I don't know if these guys are still looking for you or what, all I know is I have the house locked up tight and JJ and the others are trying to sort this out."

You looked down at your hands, trying to hide the inevitable tears. You knew your dad was trash. You always had. But you just couldn't believe he went this far. Selling you. His own daughter. He really, really, couldn't care less about you.

You brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly, hiding your face as you let the sobs escape your lips.

Rafe was silent as he crawled beside you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you. You leaned into him and clung to his arms as you let it all out.

"Shh, shhh, I know baby, I'm so sorry," He soothed as he rubbed your back.

"W-what am I gonna do, Rafe? I-I can't go home." You sobbed.

"You can stay here," Rafe said. "As long as you need."

"No, Rafe, I can't do that."

"Shhh, yes you can. There is plenty of space. JJ already got all your things."

You just sat and whimpered in Rafe's arms. He held you for what felt like hours until you finally stopped crying. You pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes. "Thank you," You whispered.

He gave you a small smile and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know I'll always take care of you."

You smiled back at him. Your eyes flickered from his to his lips. The urge to kiss this sweet boy in front of you was undeniable.

"Uhm," You pulled away uncomfortably. "Could I like, take a bath or something? I feel really gross." You chuckle.

"Yeah, of course. I'll run it for you."

Rafe headed towards the bathroom. You heard the water begin to run and you rested your face in your hands. There was no denying the fact that you liked Rafe. You liked him a lot. But you just don't see how this could work. You were from the Cut and just being in his house made you feel so small and meaningless. You were sure his parents would kick you out the second they laid eyes on your broken body.

"Tangerine or grapefruit?" Rafe's voice took you from your train of thought.

"What?" You asked, looking over at him.

"Bubbles," He smiled, holding up two bottles of soap.

You laughed. "Uhm, grapefruit, I guess."

He smiled and returned to the bathroom.

You slowly made your way out of the bed and limped towards the bathroom. Your ankle was definitely sprained. You fell again. "Shit."

"Here, let me help you." Rafe said as he helped you off the floor and to the bathroom.

He sat you on the edge of the tub and you tried to catch your breath. You felt like you'd just run a marathon even though you had only taken a couple steps.

You began to remove your shirt from your body.

"Uhhh," Rafe mumbled as he turned around.

"Rafe," You start. "Look, I don't care if you see me naked. I-I need your help."

Asking for help was not something you did but your body was so weak.

Rafe turned to look at you. "Okay, I got you." He helped you out of your shirt and pants, placing you into the warm water.

He'd always admired your body. Seeing you naked was something he though about often but not like this. Large bruises covered your torso. Little cuts all over your body and dried blood surrounding your stitches. The fact that your beautiful body had been violated killed him.

"Oh, that feels so good." You sigh, closing your eyes as you sink down into the water.

Rafe smiles as he sits on the floor beside you. "Can I get you anything?"

You shake your head. "No, this is perfect." You say with a smile. "Thank you,"

"For what?"

"For taking care of me. I don't really like counting on others. And I'm not sure exactly what's happening but I know JJ wouldn't leave me here with you if it wasn't something important."

Rafe nods. "Do you think I could ever get JJ to like me?"

You laugh. "I don't know. He's stubborn as shit."

"He loves you so much," Rafe said.

You smile. "Yeah, I fucking love that kid too. Even though he's a fucking dumbass." You laugh.

Rafe smiles and looks down at his hands. You reach out and offer your bubbly hand to his. He takes it, rubbing lightly over the bruising that coated your skin.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers as he stares at you.

"Really? My head is split open." You laugh.

He leans in closer to you. "You're beautiful, no matter what Y/N."

You look him in the eyes, bringing your hand up to frame his cheek as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips. He was so gentle. So careful not to hurt you. But you could feel the need. How much he wanted you.

"Y/N!"

Rafe pulled away from you as he heard JJ enter the house.

"Fuck, go!" You told him.

Rafe rushed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He met JJ and the others on the stairs.

"Where is she?" JJ asks.

"She's taking a bath. She's fine." Rafe promised.

JJ still pushed passed him and headed to the bathroom in the guest room. "Y/N?" He asked, knocking on the door.

"I'll be out in a minute, JJ!" You said. "Could you ask Sarah and Kie to come in here please?"

You really wanted Rafe but you know JJ would lose his mind if he knew Rafe saw you naked.

"Hey," Kie said softly as her and Sarah entered the room.

"Hey guys, I'm sorry. Could you help me out?"

"Of course," Sarah said. The two girls were quickly by your side. Helping you out of the tub and drying you off.

They helped you into your clothes and took you back to the bed. Everyone was standing in your room.

"Hey, everyone." You said as you laid back down into the bed.

"Hey! How are you feeling?" JJ asked as he ran to you, pushing your hair out of your face.

"I'm good, J." You smiled. You glanced around the room. "Uhh, thank you all for everything. But could I have a minute with my brother?"

Everyone nodded and made their way out of the room. Rafe's eyes lingered on you for a moment and you offered him a small smile.

You turned to JJ. His eyes filled with tears.

"JJ, I'm fine, I promise."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry I let this happen. I should have gone home with you."

"J, it's not your fault dad is a prick." You tell him, taking his hand in yours.

"I'll get a second job. I'll find us a place to live. I took care of dad. He's not on the island anymore. You're safe. I'll always make sure you're safe."

You didn't want to know what happened to your dad and quite frankly, you didn't care.

"JJ, listen to me," You said, forcing him to look you in the eyes. "Rafe said I can stay here for a while."

"No-"

"JJ!" You yelled, making him focus again. "I love you so much. More than anything, okay?"

JJ nodded.

"I like Rafe. He's really good to me. I'm going to stay here for a while. With him. While I heal."

JJ clenched his jaw. Hating the fact that you were involved with Rafe.

"Can you please try to get along with him?"

JJ looked down but nodded in agreement. "Okay. Fine. But if he hurts you-"

"JJ, he's not going to hurt me. I'm a big girl, I can make my own choices."

"I love you," JJ says.

"I love you, too J." You smile up at him. "Now go have fun with your friends. I'm going to get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just, uh, tell Rafe to come back please."

JJ closes his eyes and bites his lip. Not enthused at all that you like Rafe. But he nods his head and heads for the door.

"Rafe," You hear him say as he opens the door. "Listen to me," You hear JJ as he pulls Rafe to the side. "If you ever do anything to hurt my sister, I'll hang your body from a fucking hook in my basement."

"I'll never hurt her, JJ." Rafe promised.

You chuckled at their exchange.

Rafe finally comes in the room, leaving the door open behind him.

"Hey, pretty girl," Rafe says as he sits next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm sleepy." You admit. "Will you lay with me?"

Rafe smiles and nods, getting under the covers next to you and wrapping his arms around you lightly. You nuzzled into his chest as he ran his fingers over your skin.

JJ watched for a moment as you snuggled closer to Rafe. As much as he hated it, he swallowed his thoughts and walked off to meet the rest of the Pogues in the kitchen. All that mattered is that you were happy and safe.

_________

"You okay, JJ?" Kiara asks as he enter the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just glad we got this all sorted out."

"Is she sleeping?" Sarah asked.

JJ chuckled. "Yeeeup. With Rafe." He pressed his knuckles against the counter.

"JJ, I know you hate my brother. I fucking hate him too sometimes." Sarah laughs. "But, I've never seen him so distraught over anyone before. Rafe takes care of what he loves. And if he loves Y/N, she's in good hands."

JJ nods and offers Sarah a smile. "Guess I'll just have to get used to it. I want her to be happy."

"Come on," John B says, placing his hands on JJ's shoulders. "Let's go have a beer."

______

"I think your brother might actually murder me for holding you like this." Rafe whispered in your ear.

You giggled. "Don't worry, JJ knows I could kick his ass if he tried anything."

Rafe smiles against your shoulder. "Does it hurt?" He whispers, running his finger over the bruises on your arms.

"Yes," You admit. "But you make it better." You look up to meet Rafe's gaze.

He smiles down at you, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Can we finish what we started earlier?" He asks nervously.

You smile. "Yes please," You wrap your hand around his neck, allowing your fingers to graze his dirty blonde locks as you pull his lips to yours.

[cvnntagious]

:: virgin!chris only wants you to touch him

chris was quick to slide his pants off for you as soon as his brothers had left for the store, both his mom and dad at work. the two of you were completely alone, chris' face reddened at how embarrassingly hard he was in his boxers. "what d'you want, chris?" you asked softly, hand sliding up his shirt to caress his toned abdomen.

he caught your hand in his tender grasp, pulling it down from his shirt as he looked at you beside him. there was a surprising innocence in his eyes for someone who was aching so intensely for you. "touch me," he replied softly, running your hand over his bulge.

"anything else?"

he shook his head, a few of his brown curls falling in front of his eyes with it. "not yet— no," he answered, eyes searching yours for disappointment. "if that's okay..."

you weren't disappointed, though. you were perfectly content with allowing him to ease up into being comfortable in such a vulnerable state with you. for now, you were just happy to be making him feel good.

his breath hitched when you shoved your hand in his boxers, feeling the warmth of it taking ahold of his length. head instantly throwing back when your thumb brushed over his leaking tip, he shivered at your touch. he was so sensitive—you liked it.

maybe it was the intense reaction from such soft touches, or the small pants escaping his parted, pouty lips, but you couldn't help that sense of pride from washing over you. it urged you to make him feel good; better than he already did, really.

you freed his length from the confines of his boxers, taking a good look at it in all its glory. the slight pause made chris want to tell you to stop so he could cover himself up, probably even kick you out and act like nothing ever happened - like you didn't see his dick. he didn't though. as much as he wanted to, he wanted you more. needed you.

when your hand finally started pumping his length, completely unaware of all the anxious thoughts running through chris' mind, they all dissipated immediately. all he could think about now was how good your soft hands felt, body tensing when you made eye contact with him.

his heart started pounding when you opened your mouth slightly, allowing the saliva you'd collected in your mouth to slowly drip onto his already wet cockhead. "a- oh fuck," he breathed, body tensing at the warm fluid being spread and stroked up and down his length.

the pleasure he felt was palpable, and he found his movements becoming more and more involuntary with each slow glide of your hand up and down his length. the agony was almost unbearable, feeling his high so out of reach. "please," he began, hips now starting to jerk up for friction he wasn't able to get with your languid movements.

you smiled at him, causing him to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. "faster, hm?" you asked, picking up the pace with each stroke.

chris nodded, lips pursing as sweet hums of pleasure filled his room. "need- need to... fuck, gonna cum," he warned, abdomen flexing and legs tensing as he moaned louder than intended.

when he felt your soft thumb brush over his now aggravated tip, it sent him over the edge. his head flew back, mouth making an 'o' shape as he fucked your hand, orgasm crashing over him. groans escaped his lips, and he felt his face flush red with embarrassment, allowing you to milk him dry of his sticky fluids.

his head lifted again as soon as your strokes on his length slowed, gaining the courage to look at your cocky grin again. that was, until he was met with your tongue hoovering over his cum-covered cockhead. it practically begged you to leave it alone, judging by the way it was almost red in color under all his white semen.

"wha-" he started, only to be cut off by his body spasming when your tongue met his sensitive tip, a long whine following it.

w/c : ?? a/n : gonna be taking a small break from writing soon, but i'll still answer asks, so send em on in. divider by issysh3ll

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P51 | jeong y/n

"Thank you for this, Park. I appreciate it." Taeyong spoke tiredly into the phone, and he could hear Chanyeol laugh on the other line.

"Kid, you've worked with me for nearly a year now, ease up a bit and just call me Chanyeol. Here, the name at the top of the list, Kim Soyeon, owns a café in Sinchon. Says here it's supposed to close in another hour. Hey, I'll give you the rest of the info through text—just get going already, Yongie." Chanyeol's voice took a sober turn, understanding the current mood. It was also Chanyeol who ended the call right after.

Kyungsoo had texted him you were currently undergoing emergency surgery, and you were probably getting out of it the next morning considering the stab wound punctured your lung and broke through your ribs. The paramedic also found that there was a nasty gash at the back of your head, a possible concussion...or worse. Taeyong cringed when he read the details of your injuries, but he shook his head.

You were going to make it out alive, he was sure of it. From what he had gathered from Kyungsoo about who you were as a person, you were strong, and you'd been good in keeping your promise to them to hold on—so Taeyong had a lot of trust in you that you'd keep that promise 'til the end.

Nobody on the list was picking up his calls, it's why he asked for Chanyeol's assistance in gathering more info regarding the people on your list. When Chanyeol's text came through, Taeyong focused on the address of Kim Soyeon's café.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Taeyong parked the car, that's when he noticed the bloodstains you had left on his jacket and shirt. His jacket was already black, so it didn't really show, but his button-up shirt under the jacket was light blue—now partly red, soaked in your blood. He took out his wet tissue packet and cleaned his jacket before zipping it all the way up. Glancing at his cleaned up watch, it was currently 8:21 p.m. He got out of the car with a heavy feeling lingering in his chest.

As he got to the café's front entrance, your note in his hands, he noticed that the sign on the front entrance said 'CLOSED' and another note below said 'PRIVATE EVENT'. Since the café had large window panes all over, he could see there was a private celebration inside, and there were mostly young adult attendees. He knocked on the glass door, and a kind looking middle aged woman opened the door, not exiting fully.

"Good evening. I'm sorry, but the café is closed to the public for now—"

Taeyong shook his head awkwardly and took out his badge, showing it to her.

"My name is Lee Taeyong, and I'm a detective from Gangnam's Police Force. Ma'am, do you happen to be Kim Soyeon?" This wouldn't be the first time he had to do a house visit to inform a victim's family, but it never got easier.

And it never will.

Soyeon paused, before exiting the café completely and closed the door behind her. Nobody noticed the exchange happening, too caught up in their own conversations.

At first, Soyeon thought he was here to inform about her ex-husband—maybe found dead from alcohol poisoning somewhere in Gangnam, or he was arrested and needed someone to bail him out. So that was the first thing she asked.

"Is this about my ex-husband?" Soyeon pursed her lips a little, hugging herself in the cold autumn night.

"No, ma'am, it's regarding...it's Jeong Y/N. I understand that— based on this note she gave me—you're close with her?" Taeyong felt like he was speaking with a mouth filled with molasses. His tongue felt heavy, and even his lips too.

He showed the note to Kim Soyeon, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. When she read the contents of the note, her hands began to shake as her grip on the note tightened, crumpling the paper.

"...she's like a daughter to me. Did something happen to her?" She spoke in a near whispery tone, and Taeyong almost didn't hear her.

When Soyeon clarified her relationship with you, calling you a daughter figure to her, Taeyong's heart broke into two as he felt shame creeping up his body. He moved to kneel before her, making her shriek, because she knew that a detective wouldn't kneel to a random civilian unless something really bad actually happened to you.

Everyone else in the café froze in silence when they heard her shriek and turned to the glass doors of the front entrance, seeing an unknown man kneeling in front of Soyeon. Geonwoo marched up to the front entrance, opening the glass doors immediately, worried for his mother. Woojin was just right behind him.

"Mom, what's going—"

She bent down, hands on Taeyong's shoulders as she pulled on his jacket, and as his jacket rode up, his bloodstained shirt under peaked through, gaining Woojin's attention at just how soaked in blood it was. The note dropped on the pavement near Taeyong's knees.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? WHERE'S Y/N! TELL ME!" Soyeon yelled loudly, pulling the attention of the people inside and outside of the café.

Yuno and his father, upon hearing your name, quickly went to the front entrance too, wondering why Soyeon was shrieking out your name like a mad woman.

Geonwoo held his mother, confused with what she was talking about. Yuno noticed there was a written note near Taeyong's knees and bent down to pick up, freezing when he recognized the writing.

"Jeong Y/N was found beaten and stabbed multiple times near downtown Seoul—and is currently receiving emergency surgery at TaeHo Memorial Hospital. I'll explain everything once we get to the hospital, ma'am. My partner is there waiting for Y/N to get out of surgery."

Mark who was huddled up near the entrance with the rest of the attendees—wedged between Haechan and Yuta—dropped his drink to the floor, glass shattering on the tiles.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yangyang truly didn't give a fuck. His name was also on the list, along with Xiaojun's and Aeri's, so they should be allowed to go to the hospital too. Aeri was crying in the passenger seat with Xiaojun sitting still in the back, looking like he was in shock. Yangyang pressed on the gas pedal when Geonwoo's Ford truck in front of him was beginning to get farther away from his McLaren.

Right in front of Geonwoo's truck was the detective's car, revolving light shining red and alarm ringing out loud in the night. Mark rode with Geonwoo and Woojin, while Soyeon, Yuno and your dad rode with the detective.

"God, please let Y/N remain among the living. Please, please, please... don't take her away from those who love her so soon..." Yangyang could hear Aeri's incessant prayers, making him slam his hand on the wheel at how heartbreaking it was to hear her pray through choked sobs.

Aeri was never that religious, and him and Xiao didn't even believe in anything at all—but he hoped that Aeri's prayers were heard and granted. In fact, even his heart was praying alongside Aeri.

He really thought they had moved past you now, he really did. At least, he thought he himself did. He remembered feeling nothing but disdain when he saw you at the post mortem meeting a week ago, and he thought that was him forgetting all about you.

But as he prayed in his heart, to a higher power he didn't even personally believe in, he realised he will always care for you no matter what, whether he wanted to or not.

He floored the pedal.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Geonwoo, Woojin and Mark ran to the waiting area, with your friends right behind them too. They came to see your father kneeling in front of a man standing beside Detective Lee, Mr. Jeong's hands pulling on the man's shirt—and they assumed that man was Taeyong's partner, Detective Do Kyungsoo. Geonwoo and Woojin were familiar with his name, albeit a little sparsely, because you had mentioned Detective Do before.

Yuno was bent behind your father, supporting the older man even when he himself was starting to crack, tears streaming down his face.

"How could someone as small as my daughter bleed this much!" Your father wailed, and it made Geonwoo and Woojin stop in their tracks as they fully took in Detective Do.

Kyungsoo had a haunted look across his face as he held your father's hands, and the shirt your father was gripping on was soaked in red. Even the cuffs of his corduroy jacket were bloodstained. Even his hands had dried blood on them. He was so soaked in your blood, they understood exactly what your father was feeling right now.

Pure unadulterated fear.

"Mom..." Geonwoo uttered out, and his mom broke down hearing her son's voice, urging him to go and be with her.

As soon she felt his arms around her, she let out a sob, "She was stabbed twice, it broke through her ribs and punctured her lung. They suspect a concussion too, based on the gash she had at the back of her head."

Yuno began to pull your father up, face suddenly blank of any emotions. It was as if hell froze over for him.

"You never told us who did this to her." Yuno spoke almost emotionlessly—but Mark, who had known him the longest besides your father, could tell he was furious.

Kyungsoo stared at his hands and shirt, feeling like he could never wash your blood off of him. He heard Yuno's question loud and clear, but he was just thinking on where he should start.

Did your fate get sealed the moment Junyoung stepped into the police station and filed a report on how Yoonsu was exploiting you? When Junyoung suddenly disappeared right after he graduated? When Yoonsu managed to slip away as they busted down the doors of his establishment?

Or should he start with the fact that this all happened because him and his old partner was reckless enough to involve a teenage girl in their investigation against ruthless loanshark like Yoonsu?

"Hyung..." Taeyong spoke softly.

Kyungsoo took out your locket from his jacket's front pocket. He felt his heart drop when he noticed you were wearing this locket as you lied on the stretcher inside the ambulance. He recognized the locket—you had worn it before when you were still Yoonsu's prized girlfriend. This was the bugged locket Yoonsu made you wear.

That fucker was sick in the head.

Mark—of all people, Mark—walked up to Kyungsoo and gripped on the collar of his jacket, shaking the detective, frustrated with his lack of words. Everyone else balked at the sight while Woojin moved quickly to try and hold the younger man back, holding on to his shoulder, but Mark shook Woojin's hand off of him.

"Stop staying quiet, you bastard—tell us who did this to her!" Mark raised his voice.

"Mark!" Woojin yelled, and Taeyong was already trying to wedge himself between them too.

"It was Cha Yoonsu. Beat her up good, then he stabbed her twice before he stabbed himself in the throat...can't arrest a dead guy." Kyungsoo uttered out, voice as monotoned as Yuno's before.

Geonwoo and Woojin froze, while the rest of your friends and family were wondering just who the fuck was Cha Yoonsu? Geonwoo let go of his mother, beyond perplexed with Kyungsoo's answer. Didn't you tell them that Yoonsu was already dead more than a week ago?

"Cha Yoonsu? Didn't you make her come down to Gangnam mortuary a week ago to ID his corpse?" Woojin asked what Geonwoo was thinking, and the detective let out a scoff.

"Gosh, back then he even had me fooled. Held Y/N hostage with that blackmail hanging over her head and made her his puppet." Kyungsoo sighed, messing with his hair as he was reminded of how foolish he had been, thinking that the corpse on the mortuary slab was actually Yoonsu.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck is Cha Yoonsu? And what do you mean by blackmail!" Yangyang broke out in anger, frustrated that he wasn't understanding a single thing coming out of anyone's mouth at the moment.

"And where's Junyoung? She had plans with him for tonight." Aeri spoke through hiccups, and Xiaojun wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down once the shock wore off.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong felt like the fog was lifted; these people knew jackshit. No wonder they were fooled by Yoonsu's poor rendition of Junyoung—no wonder you left Taeyong that note. This was what you meant by not wanting to keep them in the dark anymore. They had very little idea on what you actually went through back then.

In fact, it was as if they had very little idea on who Jeong Y/N really was before they met her.

"I need all of you to sit first as I explain to you how everything led up to this. Please, take a seat everyone. I'm now well aware just how little you know about Y/N's past." Kyungsoo sighed.

"We know she was forced to work for a loanshark to clear her late stepfather's debt after our mother abandoned her." Yuno spoke out, and Kyungsoo tilted his head at him.

"Then how come some of you don't know who's Cha Yoonsu?" Taeyong asked sincerely.

"Who is Cha Yoonsu?" Yangyang asked again, still clearly frustrated.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong eyed Geonwoo and Woojin, because out of all of them, the ex MMA athletes were the ones that seemed to be aware of who exactly was Cha Yoonsu.

"Cha Yoonsu was the loanshark she was forced to work for. He had her working as a stripper at his illegal establishment, and also coerced her into a romantic relationship with him while she worked under him. This locket was gifted to her with the promise that he would marry her once her debt was settled." Kyungsoo explained thoroughly who Cha Yoonsu was, and what kind of man he had been, holding up the locket they had seen you wear ever since you introduced them to Junyoung.

Geonwoo and Woojin looked at each other—they didn't know that he had made you his girlfriend at one point while you worked for him. This was something you didn't tell them about your past—something you hid from them.

Everyone felt sick to their stomach, going pale at the realization this all happened when you were still a teenager.

Your father felt his knees going weak and practically dropped himself on the chair, while your brother felt bile coming up his throat imagining his teenager younger sister dating an adult man who obviously wanted to take advantage of you.

"What a disgusting bastard." Mark spoke out quietly, but you could still hear the fury in his voice.

"Lee Junyoung was Y/N's senior at Cheongdaebi High in Gangnam, it's where they met. They eventually became close friends. Junyoung was an illegitimate child of the Lee Media Conglomerate, so he had quite a reputation in Gangnam already. He also had a cousin on his stepmother's side who worked in Gangnam's Police Force Organized Crime Unit—that was my old partner, Kim Junmyeon.

When Junyoung found out Y/N was in an abusive relationship, and her boyfriend also turned out to be the loanshark who was exploiting her, he filed a police report to his cousin. We were already investigating Cha Yoonsu and building a case against him—so when we found out Junyoung's little friend was also Yoonsu's girlfriend, we roped her in. Made her our mole in Yoonsu's workforce." Geonwoo and Woojin bristled, finding it so reckless of them for putting you in a dangerous spot.

It was why Yoonsu was so hellbent in getting his revenge on you. Ignoring the way Geonwoo and Woojin were glaring at him, Kyungsoo continued.

"Yoonsu already kept an eye out on Junyoung because he was close to Y/N, but he was livid when he found out the kid filed a police report against him. Right after Junyoung graduated, he disappeared. Many thought he ran away from his family, but Y/N was convinced Yoonsu did something to him, so she filed a missing person's report on Junyoung.

Once we gathered sufficient evidence through Y/N's help, we busted down the doors of his establishment only for him to slip away after he could confirm it was Y/N that had been our informant—it was the botched operation of the decade." The older detective let out a bitter smile, remembering how harshly his captain had slapped him for letting Yoonsu slip away, and for letting you flee Gangnam.

"So the Junyoung Y/N introduced to us..." Xiaojun asked tentatively, horror written all over his face.

"It had been Cha Yoonsu who had cosmetic procedures done on him to look like Lee Junyoung. Y/N was well aware of who he really was, so she wasn't fooled in any way." Taeyong confirmed, making Xiaojun promptly ask the next question—

"Then why didn't she say something—anything to let us know she was in danger?"

Taeyong gulped, while a haze glazed over Kyungsoo's eyes. They remembered the first time they opened the blackmail file Yoonsu had over you. Pictures and videos—countless of it—of a teenager you in skimpy clothing, dancing upon the pole with slimy men surrounding you, and your face clearly showed that you'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"The fucker had a file filled with pictures and videos of her when she worked as his stripper—he blackmailed her with it. He also hacked her phone and made her wear this locket which—" Kyungsoo paused, holding up the locket again and opening it to show them the contents, "—contains a bug that could pick up on everything Y/N says. She was constantly under his surveillance. She was his hostage. Y/N was trapped. If she says one wrong thing, then those pictures will spread across her faculty, then her whole campus, the nation—anyone would know better than to take Yoonsu's threats lightly, even though he is a disgraced boss now."

"As some of you know," Taeyong began to take over, looking over to Geonwoo and Woojin as he stressed on 'some', "we had Y/N come down to Gangnam mortuary to ID a corpse we believed was Yoonsu's, and she did give us a positive ID—however, just three days after, she reached out to Detective Do through an unknown number and begged us to believe her when she said Yoonsu was still alive...and she was currently living with him.

It was a good thing Detective Do went ahead and sent the corpse to another mortuary that confirmed it wasn't actually Yoonsu's—and that's how we began to investigate this 'Lee Junyoung' Y/N was living with, and got to reopen the case against Cha Yoonsu. We got to hack into his phone and wipe out the blackmail file he had over her, and uncovered the text messages he exchanged with Y/N and—" Taeyong crossed his arms, taking a pause in telling the main points to address something that stuck to him ever since he read the text messages between you and Yoonsu.

"—I just want to let you know it was always in Yoonsu's plan for Y/N to isolate herself from you. Y/N never wanted to make you feel like you didn't matter to her, but he was blackmailing her to do so. Detective Do once told me she's people-centric, and Yoonsu was well aware of that. It was just a way for Yoonsu to put her through psychological torture."

Everyone's heart broke and tore itself apart hearing Taeyong say that.

Yuno dropped his head and covered his face with his hands, rubbing it when he was reminded of the argument he had with you before you moved out, how he had ignored you during your last days in the condo, practically treated you like you were an unappreciated houseplant. Now that he knew you never meant the things you said, but he had meant his every single word and action.

Geonwoo and Woojin were reminded of the last time they texted you through 'the crew' groupchat, and how Woojin had told you 'good riddance' when you confirmed you were moving in with 'Junyoung'.

Yangyang remembered how horribly he treated you, openly ignoring you to get his disdain for you across, the way you clearly looked uncomfortable and sad during the post mortem meeting for how they treated you. Aeri looked back and reminisced about the time you called each other 'soulmates', and how easily she got rid of the memories when she chose to ignore you from the day of the concert.

Xiaojun could never forgive himself for treating you like a distant acquaintance as if he hadn't told you his regrets and secrets that you still kept close to your heart despite the fallout. It was worse than just openly ignoring you—whereas Yangyang and Aeri were at least open with their dislike for you, Xiaojun treated you with indifference. As if he wasn't at all affected with you pulling yourself away from them, like he didn't really care for you at all.

Mark felt like puking when he realised the last time he argued with spoke to you, he had called you a coward. Of all the insults he could use that would at least be generic, surface-level and the least hurtful, he called you a coward. You were getting blackmailed, held hostage, and manipulated by a slimy bastard—and he called you a coward. As if you weren't being the bravest you'd ever been as you faced Yoonsu alone with no one else on your side. As if you haven't always been the bravest among them.

When everyone's reminded of their promise to forget you, it felt like their whole chest was caving in. When they tried to imagine just how alone you had been, how hurt you were to see them push you away, it felt like there were bullets getting lodged inside their chest for every time they yelled, berated, and ignored you.

Seeing everyone go quiet at the realization they had played a part in Yoonsu's plan to psychologically break you, both detectives sighed. Yoonsu intended for this kind of damage. Not only you suffered, but the pain also bled through to everyone else around you, to the people who love and care for you.

"It was just hours ago when we wiped out the file from his phone. Once we did it, we told Y/N to leave their apartment so we could get to arrest him, but she didn't listen. She..." Kyungsoo sighed in the middle, opening his phone and showed the text messages he exchanged with you just hours ago, "...she still followed him to where he was taking her because she still wanted to know what he did to Junyoung—where his body was buried. I know for a fact she had never stopped mourning for him...and it's why she felt responsible for his death. Why she decided to put herself in danger anyway, how she ended up getting beaten up and stabbed by Yoonsu—because that's just who she is. Jeong Y/N. So selfless, it's actually selfish."

That was the actualisation of who you really were. Selfishly selfless. They now know of who Jeong Y/N truly is at her core.

Damn you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Jeong Y/N." The main surgeon spoke out hoarsely—she had been in that surgical suite for more than 6 hours.

It was in the dead of the night, the large digital clock in the waiting area displayed '03:06 A.M.' in blaring red. Kyungsoo and Taeyong stood up while the rest woke up who had dozed off into light slumber. They couldn't really sleep too deeply, when they're still not sure of your fate in that surgical suite.

When a total of 11 people came to her at the sound of your name, she nearly took a step back. This was a lot of people to be waiting for someone to get out of surgery.

"How is she, Doc?" Kyungsoo asked stiffly, feeling his breath slow as he waited for her to answer.

"She pulled through."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She's a fighter. One of the stab wounds managed to puncture her right lung, and even broke through her 8th and 9th rib. I managed to fix them up, of course, but with how much blood she was losing, within a rapid rate too, I wasn't all that optimistic that she would even make it—but she did. With the way she held on, she saved herself as much as I saved her.

"God, look at what he did to her face. Oh, my sweet girl—what did he do to you?" Yuno's dad sobbed quietly, caressing his daughter's watercolor blotched cheek, as he wailed over your swollen and split lips, your bandaged nose.

Soyeon sat on the sofa of the VIP room, crying silently as she stared at you. She wished she had done something. She wished she had seen through your attempts in pushing her away. What kind of mother was she? When she couldn't even tell her child was in pain and suffering?

Yuno held your open hand, wishing you were gripping on his back, tears streaming down his face but not making a sound as he cried. It broke his heart—he barely recognized you when he saw you. The bruises on your face were too much. He felt his own face aching just by looking at you. He wanted to beat himself up for ignoring before you moved out. He didn't care for all the hurtful things you said to him anymore, he just wanted to be family again.

He wished he got the chance to beat Cha Yoonsu into a pulp.

May I ask what happened to her abuser? Dead? Good. I know she was found beaten at the crime scene, but the bruises all over her body were new and old. Days and weeks old, even. The most severe one was at her stomach—I had to be careful with cutting her torso open because of how sore it was. He kicked her there pretty good, repeatedly too—but thank god not hard enough it would've done any more damage on her rib cage. However, she still needs to take it easy with any kind of upper body and hip movement during her recovery. The rest of the bruises could go away on their own.

"If that bastard was still alive, I would get my whole soccer team—even the benched kids—to jump him for you. I'm even considering defacing his resting place, because he doesn't deserve to rest peacefully for all that he did to you, Y/N." Yangyang heaved in anger from the opposite side of where Yuno was sitting beside your bed. He blinked away his tears, tasting more bitter and sour than salty—fuck, he was so angry and sad that his tears didn't even taste right.

Aeri was holding on to your other hand, still praying, sounding like a zealot. She had hoped her hand kept yours warm too. If Yoonsu was still alive, she wouldn't be braindead enough to think just beating him half to death could ease her anger. She'd burn him, make him a furnace to keep you warm. She'd do anything to him just for you.

Xiaojun was sitting on a chair beside Yangyang, keeping your hair neat. More often than not, you had always complained that even though you loved how long hair looks on you, you sometimes hated how it would feel. Of course, now that you're still sleeping, he'd keep it neat for you. It was the least he could do for you—because it's not like he had the chance to kill Yoonsu for you. The bastard did the honors himself, it seemed.

She's getting wheeled to the VIP room right now. Heard that someone among you has connections to the one who funds this hospital—and good for her, then. After all that kid has been through, I'm glad she gets to rest in a comfortable room, with plenty of space for all of you to fit—just, don't huddle too closely over her, okay? I know you're all worried for her, but she just got out of surgery, so there's still risks of infection and whatnot.

Geonwoo and Woojin were just right outside, talking with a man decked out in an obviously very expensive casual clothing set. The man seemed fond of the ex MMA athletes, even calling them his younger brothers, and it wasn't at all surprising to see him so fond of them considering he drove to the hospital at 3 a.m. in the morning to see them. The man was Hong Minbeom, and he was the one who pulled the strings to get you the VIP room. He's the one behind the hospital's funding.

"Thanks again, Hyung." Geonwoo sighed, looking at the door.

Minbeom beamed at the both of them.

"It's no biggie, kiddos. Just tell her I wish her a speedy recovery."

Minbeom had met you before. When they held a gala to officiate Taeho Memorial Hospital's opening, Geonwoo brought Taeho's granddaughter as his plus one, and Woojin had brought you as their plus one. The chaebol found you to be a cute kid, a good fit with his two younger brothers. He didn't mind doing a favour for you, considering you were also a victim of a bastard loanshark like he had been a victim of Kim Myeonggil.

Here's the bad news though. Clearly, something very hard hit her head, and then she got stabbed not long after—head injury with rapid blood loss is a bad combo. It's why I consider her a miracle. Because of the head injury, there's no telling when she would wake up. Could be days, weeks or months. All I can say right now is just to stay optimistic. If she pulled through during the surgery, then she can also hold on strong enough for this.

Mark stood behind Yuno, heart tearing itself apart as he wondered when you would wake up. It's hard to look at your face while it's marred with heavy bruises and scratches, but it's gut wrenching to do nothing but watch as you stayed asleep, your eyes closed, your mouth in a thin line. He was praying just as incessantly as Aeri was, but not as loud.

Only God knew just how hard his heart was praying for you to wake up—because he wanted those eyes to open and look at him as he begged for your forgiveness, as he promised to stick by your side no matter what after this. All you had to do was wake up.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : my fingers are now officially broken!!!!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @gomdoleemyson @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[peachdues]

Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t really had time to write. This is all I’ve got for y’all right now 🤍

Lovers of Compass!Sanemi and Reader discussing books, rejoice. They’re still a couple of fucking nerds (no matter how horny)

It’s almost one in the morning when your phone buzzes.

A message; one from the only person you text, who also happens to be your favorite. On your screen is a picture of the front cover of the book you’d given Sanemi before he left the day before; beneath it, the chat bubble signals he’s sending a follow up.

You caught up yet? Sanemi’s text reads.

You toss your own book to the side, straightening up in bed. Though no one is around to see, a smile unfurls across your lips and your thumbs hurry across your phone’s keyboard.

How far are you?

Sanemi’s reply is instant. Halfway. Can’t finish tonight but I’ve got a few things I need to discuss right the fuck now.

You glance at the time. It’s nearing one-thirty, and your alarm is set for six. Dragging yourself out of bed after less than five hours of sleep is a kind of stupidity you know better than to indulge.

You hit the call button anyway.

Sanemi picks up on the second ring. “I’ve got five minutes,” he warns, voice low, like he’s wary of being overheard. “So if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s ‘cuz of work —“

“Hi to you too,” you tease, settling back against your pillows.

A pause. “Hey there, beautiful,” you can hear his smile even through the phone. “You okay?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice,” and you can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed by the cheesiness of the admission. Texting him is one thing; hearing him, actually hearing that wonderfully gravelly voice of his soothes a tension in your limbs you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

He’s okay. He’s unharmed — safe, even. For now, that has to be enough.

Sanemi’s laugh comes through the phone as a staticky exhale of breath. “Normally, I’d ask what you’re wearing, but I’m dead fuckin’ serious — if they don’t win this war —“

“Which battle did you get to?” You sit up, wracking your memory for the approximate place Sanemi has reached in his book. “Did the cadre reunite?”

“No, half of ‘em are still across the fucking continent.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Okay. I know where you are.” You tug at a loose thread on your comforter. “I can’t say anything. You’ll just have to keep reading.”

“God dammit,” and you imagine he’s rolling his eyes, maybe even glaring down at the book in distaste. “Shit’s got me stressed the fuck out. I don’t know how she’s gonna wrap this up —“

You giggle as he launches into a rant over loose plot ends. Squaring the mental image of your boyfriend — the one currently ranting about the various loose plot ends to still be tied up in his current read — with the one you know must be sitting in some alley or warehouse, waiting to do things he’ll never speak of, feels impossible at times. But here, for this small moment, Sanemi isn’t a Hashira. He’s just a boy, spouting off theories and guesses as to his book’s ending with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Here, there are no orders to leave, no bruised knuckles or bloodstained hands he has to scrub clean in your bathroom sink.

It’s just you and him; your Sanemi. Your wonderful, gentle, sweet Sanemi.

“Ah shit,” he cuts his impassioned tirade off with sigh. There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, but it’s too muffled to be distinguishable. “‘M gonna have to go —“

Just like that, the moment ends and the smile you’d been wearing slides from your face.“Oh.” And you hate how small your voice sounds. “That’s okay — I’m glad I got to talk to you for a sec.”

The rustling stops. “Me too,” Sanemi says softly. “Fuck, I miss you.”

This is the part you hate most; the part when he has to stop being yours and go be theirs, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to.

Your moments with him are pennies to the hours the Corps gets to demand. As long as they keep their claws in him, this will always be how your moments with him end: in abrupt, hushed voices, Sanemi’s shoulders sagging with a guilt he shouldn’t have to feel.

You grimace. This forced distance between you is bad enough, and you don’t want him to feel worse than he likely already does. You knew what you signed up for by telling him you loved him. You can’t be mad for getting exactly what you’d known to expect. And besides, your ire is reserved for the Corps and the Corps alone. Sanemi doesn’t deserve it. You can’t leave him on your sour note.

He’ll be yours again soon enough, even if only temporarily. That has to be enough, for now. Better to give him something to look forward to, rather than reminding him — and yourself — of what you’re both currently without.

“If you still wanted to know — I’m wearing your shirt. Only your shirt.” You smirk. “A thong, too. The lacy green one.”

A favorite of Sanemi’s, as he’d mentioned a handful of times. One that always set his eyes wide, made his tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Your distraction works. A strangled groan crackles through the phone. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

[ponyosmom35]

ghost

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: simon goes after reader

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the sound of heavy boots echoing against the concrete floor. The team had already split into two groups: Price and Simon at the front, their weapons at the ready, and Gaz and Soap taking the rear entrance. Every step felt like it could be their last. The dim lighting barely illuminated their surroundings, but they knew their objective.

Get her out. Alive.

Simon's heart pounded in his chest as he and Price moved forward through the narrow corridors. Every shadow, every movement, set his nerves on edge. He was close now—so close. He could feel it. She was in here, somewhere, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from finding her.

Price, who had been his mentor and leader for years, was silently moving beside him, eyes scanning the area. They were a well-oiled machine, a team that trusted each other implicitly. But Simon couldn't help the pit of dread that had settled in his stomach. If anything happened to her... 

They turned the corner and came face-to-face with their first group of enemies. Without hesitation, they opened fire, their shots precise and deadly. The men didn't even have time to react before they were dropped, bodies hitting the floor with sickening thuds. 

Price signaled to Simon, and they moved forward, clearing the room in swift, ruthless movements. Simon's focus was razor-sharp as he scanned for more threats, his mind on one thing only: her.

Meanwhile, Gaz and Soap were at the back, clearing the hallway of enemies with brutal efficiency. Soap's massive form was a blur of force as he stormed through the rear entrance, taking out men one after the other. His size and strength were unmatched, each punch landing like a freight train. Gaz, moving with more calculated precision, was quick to cover his teammate, dropping anyone who dared to challenge them.

The team moved through the warehouse, fighting their way through ten armed men in total. There was no mercy. No hesitation. They all knew what was at stake.

And then, Simon heard her. The unmistakable sound of a woman's scream, echoing through the warehouse, sending a jolt of panic through his chest. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the source, his weapon gripped tightly in his hand. He turned the corner and there she was.

She was slumped against the wall, blood dripping from her body, her hands bound behind her. Her face was bruised and battered, but her eyes—despite the fear and pain—were still defiant. 

The sight of her like this made something inside Simon snap. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the man in front of her—the one who had been torturing her. The man was laughing, a twisted grin on his face, but Simon wasn't listening anymore. All he saw was red. He rushed forward, his vision narrowing, and before the man had time to react, Simon had him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The sound of his skull cracking against the concrete echoed through the room, but Simon didn't stop. He punched him again and again, brutal and unrelenting, until the man's body went limp.

It wasn't enough. Simon wasn't done. He picked the man up again, slamming his head against the ground in a final, violent motion. The man's face was unrecognizable, blood pooling around his head. Simon's hands were covered in it, his knuckles raw and bloodied. He stood over him, chest heaving, rage consuming him.

Price grabbed Simon by the shoulder and pulled him back, snapping him out of his frenzy. "Ghost, you need to focus." Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in it. "We don't have time for this. She needs you."

Simon stood there for a moment, his breathing ragged, eyes locked on the man he had just killed. The weight of the violence was sinking in, but she was alive. She was still here, and she needed him.

With one last, shaky breath, Simon turned and rushed to her side, kneeling beside her. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. She was alive. Simon's hands shook as he gently cradled her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. His fingers moved to her neck, pressing lightly, feeling the faint beat of her pulse. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin, a silent promise to never let anything happen to her again.

"baby, I've got you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He could feel the heat of the blood on his hands, the reality of her injuries setting in, but he wasn't about to lose her—not again.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her carefully, her limp body heavy in his arms. Every step felt like an eternity, but he finally got her to the truck. The door slammed shut behind him, and he gently placed her on the seat, leaning over her to apply pressure to her deep stomach wound. He wasn't sure if he was applying enough force, but he had to. She couldn't lose any more blood.

The others piled into the vehicle, the urgency of their mission clear in their movements, but Simon's focus never wavered. He ripped off his mask, his face a picture of exhaustion, panic, and guilt. His hands were trembling as he continued to hold her, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

His fingers brushed her face, wiping away the blood from her cheek, and then he held her close, cradling her in his arms as he desperately tried to keep her alive. His breath hitched as he felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

The team moved quickly, discussing their next steps, but all Simon could hear was the sound of her shallow breathing, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Every minute felt like an eternity. 

As they drove toward the safehouse, Simon's thoughts were consumed with her—wondering how long it would take for her to wake up, if she would even survive this, and whether he had failed her. But he couldn't afford to think about that now. There was no room for doubt. He had to stay strong for her.

Finally, when they arrived, Simon was still cradling her body in his arms, refusing to let anyone take her from him. Price helped Simon carefully lay her down on the table inside the safehouse. They worked quickly, patching up her wounds, but Simon never left her side.

When they finished, he wrapped her up in gauze, careful not to expose her injuries to the others. His eyes were constantly on her, monitoring her breathing, watching for any sign that she was slipping away.

Hours passed. Simon remained by her side, not once letting go of her hand. She was alive. She was still alive.

Eventually, he walked downstairs to meet the others, but even then, his mind was still on her. He didn't want to talk about Makarov. He didn't want to think about their next mission. All he could think about was her—and how he was going to keep her safe, no matter the cost.

Price met him at the door, his expression serious. "You ready to move, Simon?"

Simon's gaze hardened as he looked back toward the room where she rested. "I'm ready," he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. "But I'm not leaving her again. Not until this is over."

And with that, they began to strategize their next move, knowing that they would have to take down Makarov once and for all to ensure her safety.

But for Simon, the fight was just beginning.

[to-thelakes]

honey kisses

content warnings; none particularly? reader is ill, mostly fluff

summary; you have a sore throat and carmy comes back from work and makes it better

pov: you're me and this is exactly what you wished had happened to you when you were waking up with a sore throat every few hours a few nights ago (aka this is very self-indulgent fluff bc i am ill and it's killing me off) (also it's not been edited)

You weren’t entirely sure what had happened. One minute, you were at work and you were fine, the next your throat was killing. You managed to find some old throat soothers at the bottom of your bag but it didn’t do much to soothe the raging pain. 

And then when your shift was over, Carmy texted saying that he might be late coming home from service tonight. You didn’t mind, texting him that you loved him and he can come over whenever he finishes. It had become routine for him to come over and you loved it. His soft touches usually woke you from your slumber but the few minutes with him made you happy so the disrupted sleep was worth it.

It was nearing midnight when Carmy came home and you had been curled up in bed for the last two hours. You had been asleep until the combination of the sudden pain in your throat and Carmy entering your apartment woke you up. You blindly searched for your water in the dark and found your bottle basically empty. A soft sigh escaped your lips which only made your throat hurt more.

You swallowed thickly but it didn’t do much and just made you cough. Your throat was simultaneously dry and sore but also sticky with phlegm so the cough was dry and chesty while also made your throat and mouth feel slimy. That made you cough harder and it drew Carmy to the bedroom, his jacket half-off as he nudged the door open.

“Hey, you ok, sweetheart?” He asked softly. You looked up at him, wide-eyed and just settling from the coughing. Your throat hurt, you grimaced, tears brimming your eyes from the pain.

“Throat hurts,” Your voice came out hoarse, raspy and odd, even to your own ears. You tried to clear your throat but it just made your throat hurt more.

“Need some water?” He asked. You nodded and grabbed your bottle and sat up to pass it over to him. He took it gently from your grip, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline before he disappeared into the kitchen. He was a man on a mission and he filled your bottle up before he grabbed honey and a teaspoon from the drawer. He came back in with supplies in hand and sat down next to you.

Without a word, you grabbed the bottle and happily sipped down half of the bottle within the span of a minute. It made your throat feel better but you still felt rough. Your throat was dry and wet at the same time. You hated the feeling of sticky phlegm that sat heavy just behind your tongue. 

The water helped but Carmy wasn’t satisfied. 

“You ok to take this?” He asked as he lifted up the honey. You stared at the honey and then him before you nodded reluctantly. 

“I don’t know what happened,” You murmured softly as you leant back against the headboard. Your whole body felt achy and tired but it had been like that for weeks so that was really nothing new. 

“Must have caught something, it’s okay,” He reassured softly as he poured the honey onto the spoon before he offered it out to you. You took the spoonful, swallowing it down but the stickiness lingered on your lips. You licked your lips - a subconscious effort to get rid of the stickiness and moisten your incredibly chapped lips - but it did very little to actually help you.

Part of you wanted to ask Carmy to kiss away the sticky honey but you also didn’t want him to get ill so you did your best to lick it or wipe it away with the back of your hand. Him kissing it away was an idea for another time.

“Was work good?” You asked curiously as you took the water bottle and gently sipped some more water. He nodded, “You smell like the kitchen,” You mumbled softly as you leant into his side. He was still in his work clothes and you could smell the menu. It wasn’t a bad thing but you knew Carmy hated when the smell lingered too much.

“Need to get a shower. Want to come with me?” He asked softly. You thought about it for a moment.

“I can sit on the toilet, don’t really wanna get wet again,” You murmured softly. He nodded.

“The steam will help the congestion,” He encouraged softly and you let out a hum of agreement. He then leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the sweet taste of honey infected the kiss which made him hum happily. You pecked his lips a few more times before he reached out and gently tugged you to the bathroom so you could sit with him while he showered.

[aboutcustardcreams]

Time Ticking, Patience Thinning

Here’s another chapter that I hope you enjoy 🫶🏼 please lemme know if you do~ would make my day!

previous chapter

“What’s your name again-? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.” 

When the boy opened his mouth to answer Agatha’s question, your gaze instinctively shifted to him. What happened next took you by surprise. As he began to speak, a shimmering sigil materialized above his lips, silencing his voice entirely. Your brows furrowed in confusion as your gaze slowly shifted to Agatha. 

“Interesting,” that’s all she said. 

"What do you mean?” 

“Nothing to shout about,” she waved it off, giving you the hint of keeping that detail Teen a secret for now. “Anyway, I can’t promise I’ll remember your name.” 

Her words caught you off guard, and it took everything in you not to burst into a cackle. Even so, a tiny puff of air escaped your nose, almost sounding like a snort. Agatha turned to you then, her composure always impeccable, infuriatingly so. 

“We better get going now,” she brushed past you towards the front door, or rather, the spot where it used to be.

You smacked your lips at her nonchalance. If you weren’t in such a rush, you’d invade her personal space right there and now, capture her lips with yours to wipe off that knowing grin from her face. 

Instead you only said, “I drive.”

She didn’t object to that. In fact, she preferred it when you were the one behind the wheel. It gave her the liberty to let her hands wander over your skin. 

As you slid into your car, Teen's eyes sparkled with the hopeful anticipation of claiming the shotgun seat, but Agatha cut off his enthusiasm rather quickly. 

“Be a good pet and sit in the back, will you?” 

The boy shot you a sideway glance and you muttered a soft ���sorry’ in his direction. Resigned, he slid into the backseat, clicked his seatbelt into place,and slouched in quiet defeat, arms crossed over his chest, reminding you of his young age. 

“Maybe on our way back you two can switch-”

Agatha didn’t even let you finish, “Or maybe not,” she muttered sarcastically. 

You sighed and started the car, with no clear destination in mind just yet, “very mature.”

She didn’t respond to that and simply hummed.

“So, where are we going?” Teen asked after a bunch of minutes. 

You looked at him from the rearview mirror, “for starters we do need a Coven to walk the Road.” 

He looked like a child on Christmas day, “you’re taking me to your Coven?” 

With your eyes back on the road, you hummed, “Uhm, not exactly.”

“We never had one,” Agatha clarified, “I mean, not for long anyway.” You glanced at her briefly, wondering what she might say to the boy next. For a fleeting moment, you thought she might blurt out the entire truth right then and there. But it wouldn’t be like her, so you brushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came to you. 

“They annoyed me,” she said with a dramatic tut, “so one day I woke up, feeling inspired, and turned them into dust.”

You nearly veered into the opposite lane when she said that, your knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Yes, she had killed her Coven, of that there was no dispute. But what she left unsaid were the reasons that forced her hand, reasons that probably nobody knew, that’s why people were so quick to come up with the ‘witch killer’ nickname. 

Teen looked terrified and uncertain what was to say next. And Agatha, being Agatha, looked quite pleased with it. 

"That’s not exactly how it went,” you mumbled, giving away the hint that there was more to say, without actually saying it. You stole a glance at Agatha, her smile teasing, slightly amused by the familiarity of the situation. There you were, once more, doing your best to clean up her reputation. She told you many times you didn’t have to do it, but you couldn’t help it. “What I can say is this: they’ve blown the whole ‘witch killer’ thing way out of proportion. Agatha isn’t a bad person.” 

Sure, you couldn’t deny the fact that Agatha killed witches, more than a few. But survival had a way of sharpening its edges, forcing impossible choices. She killed to save herself when no one else would. She killed to save Nicky. And later on… she killed to find a way to save you. It’s long overdue that people knew the truth, yet you knew it wasn’t your place, at least not only yours, to spill it. 

When Rio sent the Furies after you, they took possession of your mind, twisting reality until it was unrecognizable to you. Their voices inside your heart hurt in the most inexplicable way, but you resisted, you vowed to. You never fully understood how your condition affected Agatha and Nicky, because whenever you had a fleeting moment of clarity, they chose to savor the time together rather than tell you how much it hurt them to see you like that. During that time, Agatha’s killings increased but you wouldn’t know. She didn’t need to kill witches to heal Nicky, though. The moment you used your magic to bring him back to life, the curse had been lifted and with it, Nicky’s illness. But your magic had come with an unexpected price to pay. Rio had warned you, but you refused to listen. 

Noticing the way your eyes dimmed, Agatha slid her hand above your knee. She knew you too well to figure out exactly where your thoughts had gone. You were blaming yourself again. And she couldn’t let you do that. 

“Don’t listen to her, Teen. She has the tendency of picturing me softer than I really am,” despite her serious tone, the way her hand squeezed your knee, told you a whole different story. All she wanted was for you to let go of your sense of guilt. “When it comes to survival, you’ll do whatever it takes— anything. I hope it never comes that far for you.” 

Teen considered those words in silence. Your version compared to Agatha’s and it all just clicked. You were protecting her and she was protecting you. In that moment, he decided the rumors about the two of you didn’t matter, whether they were true or not. From now on, he would form his own picture of you both by living in the present and watching you do your thing. 

“I think it’s sweet that you found each other and stuck around for all these years. Centuries, I presume. In a way you form a Coven of two–” 

Your heart warmed up at Teen’s words. It was kind of cute to think of it that way. Your lips spread in a smile and so did Agatha’s, but more because she was amused by the whole thing he just said. Sure, she agreed with him- the fact that there was a bond between you two was true. An understatement, to be frank. You went through so many things together that the sole thought of parting ways for whatever reason felt now like a complete idiocy. You belonged to her like she belonged to you. 

“Teen, I’m sorry to cut your enthusiasm, but she and I are in a relationship. That hardly makes us a Coven.” 

“It makes us a family, though,” you pointed out. 

You caught something flickering in Agatha’s eyes, a shimmer of emotion, maybe even vulnerability. Had it been just the two of you, she might have let it linger, but with the boy in the car, she felt uneasy. So she averted her eyes, focusing on the passing landscape to her right. 

Noticing her hand slip away from your thigh, you pouted. Stubbornly, you reached out and placed it back where it belonged and when she turned, your lips curled up once again in a mischievous grin. Agatha snorted. That sass of yours— 

“There’s no time to be namby-pamby, my love. I need you to be focused.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled, “Fine. Wouldn’t want you to lose your only chance at surviving against the Salem Seven.”

Agatha's expression twisted into an exaggerated version of your own, mimicking your tone as she repeated the words you just said. The effect was immediate and both you and Teen burst into laughter, incredulous on your part. 

“I don’t sound like that!” 

“You do,” she insisted, lips twitching in a smirk. 

“I think she did a pretty good ‘you’”, Teen added, only fueling your mocking disbelief and Agatha’s enjoyment. 

“Whatever, I’m done with you two.” 

Your eyes squinted towards a peculiar building standing in the middle of nowhere to your left. You decided to try your luck there, took a rapid turn and parked right in front of the building, your instinct telling you there was a potential witch in there. The faded sign hanging above the door caught your eye, and you read it aloud: Madame Calderou’s Psychic Readings. 

Agatha clasped her hands together, before rubbing them as if she was plotting something mischievous, “Right. Seems like we are here.”

Teen’s interest piqued once again, “You think there’s a real witch in there?”

Before you could respond, Agatha preceded you, “we shall see if she knows the witchy handshake first.”

“Oh my God– there’s a witchy handshake?”

You let out an exasperated sigh while Agatha giggled to herself. It was so easy to play with that boy. “Teen, she is pulling your leg. There’s no such thing as a witchy handshake. Honestly that would be so demeaning.”

“Such as flying brooms or pointy hats,” she agreed with you. 

“I like flying brooms,” you retorted, as you three walked up towards the building. 

Agatha draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a squishy, however affectionate embrace, “Course you do,” she purred, “next you’ll be telling me you want to adopt a black cat as familiar.” 

“I already have a familiar, thank you very much,” you pointed out, “a nice turtle that your bunny keeps bullying shamelessly.”

Agatha gasped dramatically, but you knew it was just an act, “he doesn’t! Take it back–” 

“He does,” you chuckled. “And no, I won’t.” 

“Uhm, we are drifting off here,” Teen interjected, with an awkward smile. He pointed at the building, making both you and Agatha shift your attention back to the reason why you were there. Gather a Coven of Witches. 

“Right,” she took a mental note to return to the subject another time. 

You nodded, stepping forward to open the door. Holding it wide, you gestured for Teen to go in first. He slipped inside without a word, rather excitedly actually, and as Agatha approached, she brushed past you, but not before her fingers slid into yours, her hand fitting perfectly in your grasp. 

A small, teasing grin tugged at your lips. “I thought we didn’t have time for sappy moments.” 

“Don’t be such a brat,” she whispered into your ear, in a cheeky tone, you didn’t miss. Couldn’t, if you tried. 

*

“You’ve been under the influence of another, haven't you? Someone you hurt,” the clairvoyant started, her voice solemn as she took in Agatha’s blue eyes. The smirk of confidence that had tugged at Agatha’s lips faded as soon as she realized that Lilia Calderou wasn’t a fraud and knew who she was. You gave Agatha’s hand a tentative squeeze, a way to let her know you were there– that everything was okay. Her fingers tightened around yours in response. 

“And she paid the price, too. They took your agency, but not hers,” she continued, her eyes landed on yours as you frowned uncomfortably. You never blamed Agatha for anything and you certainly wouldn’t start now just because a clairvoyant said so. “I feel it, your magic. It’s restless, volatile and quite dangerous. It should not exist.” 

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, “Here we go again,” you muttered, voice laced with dry sarcasm. Agatha snorted out a low chuckle in response to Lilia’s words, “You know nothing about her talent, so I’d suggest you to be quiet about it.” She never cared about what other witches thought about her, but whenever it came to you, she would completely lose her mind, if someone dared to judge who you were, basing their opinion on a prejudice as old as the world. 

“So you’re a witch?” Teen’s question came in a hopeful tone.

“Divination witch is my guess,” you replied before Lilia could. 

A mischievous grin tugged at Lilia’s lips. “If you intend to overstay your visit, I’ll have to charge you again.” 

“Oh, I think you can grant us another ten minutes of your time,” Agatha groaned, “It’s not that there’s a line in here or something.”

In response, you saw Teen bow his head to wipe the grin off his face. You, on the other hand, made no effort to hide yours. 

Annoyance was evident in her eyes, as she retorted, “whatever you want from me, I’m not interested,” Lilia stood up and without another word, she stood and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of her shop. 

You and Agatha shared a knowing glance. 

Teen appeared more disappointed than concerned, “Now what?” 

“Now we persuade her.” 

To preserve Agatha’s life, it was essential to gather some magic and you would have, no matter what. So you stood, eyes flashing with a newfound calm mingled with determination. Agatha noticed and smiled. She loved you for so many things and that behavior of yours, was just one of those characteristics that reminded her of why she chose to stick by your side so many years ago. 

She gave you a nod of her head and followed you, as you took the lead. On the other side, you found yourself in what could loosely be called an apartment. A single room stretched before you. To the left stood a corner kitchen, its countertops cluttered with mismatched utensils, jars of herbs, the faint glimmer of copper pots, and a kettle she just turned on, probably to make herself some soothing tea. 

“Join us,” Agatha insisted, as you and Teen kept looking around. “Honestly the way you live is kind of disappointing. You deserve more and better than whatever this place is…” Her gaze drifted to the far end of the room, where a mattress leaned against the wall, probably to save up space. 

You wondered if there was a toilet hidden behind it. How low could a witch go?

The clairvoyant’s gaze flickered with hesitation, her lips pressed into a thin line as Agatha’s words sinked in. The shrill whistle of the kettle cut through the silence, drawing her attention and causing both you and Agatha to roll your eyes, when she spun around. 

“Lilia–”, you couldn’t do this all day.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” when she turned to face you, her eyes locked onto yours, sharp and intense. You could tell she was conflicted, exasperated even. “I won’t make the same mistake and fall into Agatha’s manipulative ways. They say you endured the Furies’ wrath because you did and yet here you are, still standing by her side. I don’t understand that.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

She had no idea what she was talking about– Agatha had nothing to do with the Furies. For some odd, infuriating reason, nobody knew a thing about Rio Vidal, instead: the true cause of everything. Instead, according to the stories, it had always been you and Agatha all along, so whatever bad thing came your way, Agatha bore the brunt of the blame. You were sick of that. 

Teen was in shock too, he didn’t speak, but a part of him ached to defend both you and Agatha. He’d read about the Furies, knew the torment you endured for years, but not for a second had he ever believed Agatha was responsible for it. It just didn’t sit right with him. It couldn’t be.  Not when Agatha looked at you the way she did, as if you held all the stars in the sky just for her. As if you were everything she had left.

Watching you from her peripheral vision, Agatha recognized clear signs of your struggle. Your jaw clenched tightly, your hands curled into fists at your sides, and your lips pressed into a thin line, “If you really think Agatha is somewhat responsible for what happened to me, which by the way is none of your business, maybe you lost your talent–”, your words hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere lingering in the room. 

Lilia looked somewhat self-conscious about what she said and how they affected you, yet she didn’t apologize. However, she held herself back from responding to your bitter remark about her.

Agatha’s lips stretched into a sad, tight smile the moment her fingers brushed against your forearm, and you failed to meet her eyes, “hey– don’t go there again. It’s not worth it,” she cooed, voice firm, yet veiled with the usual fondness she only reserved to you. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment, your magic sparkling at the tips of your fingers. Lilia was right about one thing: your talent could be dangerous especially when wielded by a witch emotionally distressed or simply pissed off, like you. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, “Look, we are going to walk the Road. The Witches’ Road. And we need a divination witch, but the choice is yours. You can keep living your eternal life in this kind of shack you call home or try to go back on top. Be a witch again.”

Lilia’s mouth almost dropped, then. “The Road is a death wish.” 

“I survived,” Agatha waved with a grin. 

“And yet you’ve got no power.”

“That’s why I need to walk the Road, again. To restock.” 

Lilia swallowed thickly. The offer was appealing and yet, she was uncertain. Agatha was, after all, known for having betrayed her entire Coven, at a very young age too. “How can I trust you won’t take my power at the earliest opportunity?”

Before Agatha could say anything, you stepped forward. “She won’t. I guarantee it for you.” Despite your growing distaste for Lilia at this moment, your principles held steadfast: no more witches would die because of Agatha. Or you. That was a promise you intended to keep. “You seem to know very well what Agatha’s capable of, but my question is, are you just as familiar with my talent?”

Lilia almost found it amusing that you’d question her knowledge about witches of your kind. “I do. At least to some extent,” she clarified, “I know what a necromancer witch can do. And I also know you’re not a killer,” she finished on a softer note. 

“Agatha isn’t either,” you pointed out.

“Well, isn’t your loyalty sweet–”

Your lover took a step ahead, stretched out a hand, and moved you behind her, the moment your magic intensified around you and her, “Look, you’re right, I’ve got a reputation, I can’t help with that–” she trailed off, gesturing animatedly while doing so. “I don’t have time to persuade you into believing my intentions are genuine. Time’s running out and if you’re not willing to tag along, then fine. I’ll still Walk the Witches’ Road, restore my powers, and get my life back. Just remember that the path you’re currently on leads nowhere.” 

Her words were convincing enough, but it was the small piece of paper she was holding that truly caught Lilia’s attention. You hadn’t noticed it before, nor were you sure where it had come from, but the realization struck quickly. A smirk tugged at your lips as everything suddenly fell in place.

That was an eviction notice.

“Even if I were to accept, you’d still need more witches.”

Agatha had a solution for that too. She grinned from ear to ear, “I was hoping you’d use your witchcraft to come up with a list of names. You can do that, can’t you?” 

It was a rhetorical question, she knew she could. 

Lilia’s lips stretched into a defiant smile, “give me that,” she said, snatching the piece of paper from Agatha’s hands, along with a pen that lay on the table. She didn’t even have to think about the names, they were already there, poised on the tip of her tongue or rather, the pen. 

When she handed the paper back, both you and Agatha went as pale as a sheet. It couldn’t be. At the top were your name and Agatha’s, followed by Lilia Calderou, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu Gulliver, and, finally, Rio Vidal.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

This was bad, this was very bad Adam needed to regain his motor skills or this fuck face was going to.....

Adam struggled but Steve was stronger than he looked.

Adam: Get off!

Steve: Oh I intend to.

Ew.

Lucifer growled and pulled on his chains, Adam needed his help or just help in general. Adam kept slapping Steve's hands away the best he could. He started to panic when he made a move for Adams pants.

No, no he didn't want this!

Adams eyes traveled down and saw the taser on Steve's belt.

Adam: Let's see how you fucking like it.

Steve: Wha-

In a flash Adam grabbed the taser and delivered a shock to his neck, he didn't stop until Steve fell to the ground twitching.

Finally.

Luicfer: You okay?

Adam: .... Yeah.

He was so angry at his workplace for just letting shit like this happen. Steve will never be arrested for what he did but Adam probably will be.

He got up on shaky feet and went over to Steve, he took his keys and walked over to Lucifer.

Adam: You wanna go home?

And Lucifer didn't even have to ask: Yeah.

It was a big fuck you to his bosses, Adam didn't care anymore

He went in and found the right key.

Click.

Adam was still a little dizzy and stumbled, but two strong arms caught him.

Lucifer grinned: Well hello there.~

@fanofstuff01 @libby-for-life @athanasthos

DHORKS Captured The Devil Au

@fanofstuff01 @libby-for-life

Adam swiped his ID card as he entered his work facility for the day, he honestly was starting to hate this job but after a strong of bad luck he's grateful to even have one.

Even though the pay barely gets him by, his boss has been slacking on his benefits and insurance is barely anything.

Not to mention he's not sure if anyone here aside from Lute has a real name. All of the agents go by numbers. Probably just to save their identities.

Agent One: Ah! Adam! Just the man I needed to see, you've been reassigned to a new location.

Adam: ..... Wonderful. What am I guarding now?

He walked with the agent down a hall where they passed through many doors and security systems. When they got to the last one Adam couldn't believe his eyes.

Agent One: The literal Devil. Don't let his size fool you, he's a crafty one.

Adam: How the fuck did you manage that?

Agent One: That's classified information, officer Kadmon. Either Agent Two or I'll be back at the end of your shift.

And then he fucking left.

Adam sighed and stood at his post. Well this kinda blows.

Lucifer: Psst hey.

Adam turned to look at him and this guy didn't look like the devil.

Adam: What?

[spicyspiders]

old man logan part 6

1.4k words

There's no smut in this, but it's really fluffy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

“Hey,” you said, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear, “what’d you need me to get again?” You questioned, placing the basket onto the floor. It was Logan’s turn to make dinner tonight, and he wanted to pair the pasta you had just placed into the basket with some type of fancy sauce you couldn’t remember the name of. 

“Want me to just text you the name?” He asked. 

Your brows lowered in confusion as you looked over the shelfs of sauce jars, hoping maybe one of them would jog your memory, “you said you hated texting.”

”This is important,” Logan answered, making you roll your eyes, “it has to be-”

”Found it! It’s the one with the old man on it, right?”

”Yes. And you got the rig-”

”The rigatoni,” you said with another roll of your eyes, “yes,” you said as you grabbed one of the jars, “hey, he kinda looks like you,” you observed, giggling after hearing the sound of Logan’s huff on the other end of the phone. 

“I don’t look like the guy on the sauce jar,” he grumbled. 

“I’d send you a picture, but it probably wouldn’t show that well on your dinosaur phone,” you said as you moved from the aisle to the next.

”I like my phone,” Logan said, sounding mildly offended. 

“You told me you hated texting because your fingers are too big for the buttons,” you replied, deadpan, “we could get you a bigger phone that isn’t a flip phone. They actually have some really fancy touch screen ones now,” you said as you grabbed the bottle of spices Logan said early paired well with the sauce. 

“Maybe I could upgrade to a different brand,” Logan responded, a smile in his words, “and then I could buy one of the holsters you like,” he teased. 

You cringed just thinking of the sight, “fine, you win. I’ve got to get a few more things, then I’ll be on my way.”

”Drive safe,” Logan responded, his voice full of seriousness. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you said with a breathy laugh, “love you, bye,” you said ending the phone call as you stepped into another aisle. 

It wasn’t until you were checking out that your brain caught up to what you had said, “shit,” you said, startling the cashier. 

“Everything alright, sir?” She asked, a worried look in her eyes, “did you forget something?”

”No! No I- um,” your mind went blank, not even knowing how to begin to explain what had happened earlier. But actually, this poor cashier didn’t deserve to be subjugated to your blabbering mouth. You didn’t know how long it would take to even explain that you meant what you said to Logan, but you didn't want it to come out in such an unserious way. 

“Just remembered something I need to do later,” you said as you fished your wallet out from your pocket. 

——

All throughout dinner, you couldn’t focus on anything other than how you had ended the phone call earlier. You weren’t even able to focus on the delicious meal Logan made, the man being able to tell from the worried looks you could feel as you kept your eyes on your plate. 

“Was it not good?” Logan asked after setting his fork down onto his empty plate. 

“No!” Your head shooting up, “No, I mean it was great, not no, I didn’t like it,” you said quickly, hoping as you stood up and grabbed your dirty dishes that cleaning them would help you calm down. “It was great,” you said into the sink as you turned the hot water on. 

“If you say so,” Logan replied, like he wasn’t convinced. 

“Go relax, I’ve got this,” you said as Logan grabbed the sponge. 

“You wash and I’ll dry,” Logan responded, his hip brushing yours when he walked up beside you. 

Washing dishes was a quiet affair, which gave your brain the perfect opportunity to overanalyze. It made you nervous how Logan was being, save for the soft thank yous he said when you handed him a wet, clean dish. 

You hoped Logan hadn’t noticed the way your hands shook each time you handed him another dish, but if he asked, you could just blame it on the weight of the pot Logan used to cook the pasta in. 

“Your sink isn’t big enough for this,” you grumbled, trying to pour out the soapy water without getting it all over the counter. 

“It feels like you’ve been bitching all day today,” Logan observed as you passed him the pot, “first my phone, now my sink.”

”I’m trying not to get water everywhere,” you said as you cleaned the lid that went with the pot, “unless you want me to get it all over your counter,” you said, almost tipping the water over, but not before Logan grabbed your wrist. 

“You do this and I’ll bend you over this counter,” Logan said, “move,” he said, pushing the damp cloth into your chest before he manhandled you into the spot he was. 

“I wasn’t actually going to do it,” you groused, snatching the clean dish Logan gave you. 

You turned your neck to the side to hide your smile after seeing Logan’s glare. A few moments later, you felt Logan’s hip brush yours again as you heard his soft chuckle. Your mind, at least for a little while, was finally at ease. 

——

Though it freaked you out that Logan hadn’t said anything about it, you felt another wave of affection in seeing Logan in bed. He looked comfortable and warm, a sight that you were grateful Logan let you see. He lounged under the covers, sat up against the headboard, a book in one hand, and his glasses perched upon his nose. 

“What’re you reading?” You asked as you closed the bathroom door. You made your way through the dim bedroom, illuminated by the lamp beside Logan, to get in bed next to him.

“It’s about the first world war,” Logan said, not looking up from the page he was reading. 

“Was that the one you were in?” You asked, a smile stretched across your lips. A laugh burst forward when Logan glanced your way with an unimpressed look. Maybe it was from exhaustion from the full day you had, or the inner turmoil in your brain and going over what you said to Logan, but the look he gave made you burst out into laughter. 

Your body shook as you laid down onto his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound into the soft cotton tank top he wore. When Logan responded, you could hear the smile in his voice, “because I’m so old, right?”

You didn’t respond and instead sat up to grab the remote on the bedside table that was on your side, “you mind if I watch a little tv?” You asked once your laughter had died down. 

“Just not too loud,” Logan murmured, glancing up to look at you over the top of his glasses, making you smile once more, “what?” he questioned. 

You weren’t going to let yourself laugh again and instead settled yourself back down, your body curled towards Logan. You felt his hand brush your thigh under the covers as you turned the tv on, making sure to immediately make sure the volume was low. 

“Fuckin’ commercials,” you groaned. 

“Be patient,” Logan said humorously as he squeezed your thigh with a broad palm, “you could stand to read a book instead of watching that.”

”Once I graduate next semester, I’m never reading another book again,” not tearing your eyes away from the screen. 

It didn’t take long for your eyes to begin to droop, and you gasped awake when the remote fell from your hand, “I’ve got it,” Logan said softly as he clicked the tv off. 

He placed his book down on the table, followed by the remote, and then finally his glasses. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before leaning back over to turn the lamp off, the room falling into darkness. 

Tiredly, you rolled onto your side, away from Logan, only having to wait a few seconds before his arms were wrapped around you. 

“I do love you too, you know,” Logan said softly as his lips brushed the back of your neck.      

“Yeah?” You asked into the darkness, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Wanted to tell you earlier,” Logan said, one of his hands, sneaking under your shift, “but didn’t want to say it with my mouth full of pasta,” he said, hiding his smile in the back of your neck.

”I wouldn't  have minded,” you said, placing your hand on top of Logan’s through the shirt. 

“Cause you love me?” He asked, rolling you over onto your back, his body hovering over yours. 

Wordlessly, you pulled Logan down into a kiss, suddenly not feeling tired. 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Forgotten Lunch ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 990ish

Summary: While running errands, you realize that Logan has forgotten his lunch.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Logan asked again. 

His hand was resting on your thigh as he drove the two of you to work. He knew how your anxiety acted up in familiar moments of the past, and he was worried that today would be a trigger.

“I’m fine, Logan,” you responded. “It’s just a few errands.”

“I know, but the—“

“The last time I dropped you off at work and ran errands, Victor showed up. Yes, I know. But that's not going to happen, and I will call you if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As soon as Logan pulled up to his work, he reached for you. “Come here,” he muttered, pulling you across the bench seat. He held you close and kissed you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Logan pecked your lips again before reluctantly getting out of the truck. He grabbed his tools from the bed of the truck before he flashed you a small smile and headed towards the work area. You slid in front of the steering wheel and took a deep breath. You could do this. It was just a few errands.

You had made it through the first two small errands just fine before the anxiety started to build up. As you placed what you bought in the back row of the truck, you noticed that Logan’s lunch sack was still there. You huffed with a light smile. Logan had forgotten his lunch on purpose; you were sure of it. You brought the lunch to the front of the truck before heading back to Logan's work.

You found Logan not too far off from where you had dropped him off. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight of Logan swinging the ax. The way his muscles moved under his tight shirt, the way a slight gleam of sweat covered his open skin. Logan was truly a sight to behold. Grabbing his lunch, you slipped out of the truck but found yourself leaning up against the front of it, continuing to watch the show and wondering how long it would take for him even to notice you.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” a man greeted as he came up beside you. You ignored him, still staring at Logan. “What’s brought you here?”

“Looky what we have here,” another man said, coming up with a few others. “You lost little lady?”

“Nope,” you responded, still not looking at any of the men.

The second man did not like that and stepped in front of you, causing you to look at him finally.

“Why don’t we start by you telling us your name?” He requested, but there was a layer of clear intent behind his tone. Something that made you sick and angry.

Logan was about to swing his ax down again when a familiar scent wafted through his nose. With no care for the ax, Logan dropped it and spun around to see you surrounded by his coworkers. His jaw and fists clenched as he noticed how uncomfortable you were getting. The claws threatened to point out of his fists as he began marching over there. But before he could reach you, the man who was standing in front of you suddenly caught on fire. It wasn't that big, just the pocket that his lighter was in, but it caused all the men to freak. A smirk formed on Logan's lips as pride filled his chest. The men quickly took care of the fire as Logan came over.

“So I see you guys have met my wife,” Logan stated as he came up and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Your wife?!” They exclaimed.

“Hey, honey,” you said, focusing on Logan and relaxing now that he was near.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, giving you a short kiss. “The guys bothering you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrugged with a wink.

“We’re so sorry, Howlett,” one of them said, clearly scared. “We didn't know.”

“It’s alright, boys,” you waved off the apology. 

“If you don't mind, I think it’s time for my lunch break,” Logan said, staring at the others. They quickly disappeared, saying goodbye as they scrambled off. 

“Should I be more offended that your coworkers didn't know that you had a wife?”

“They didn’t deserve to know.” He kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

“You left your lunch in the truck. I couldn't let you starve.”

“Is that all?”

You sighed. "I was getting a little anxious.”

“Then the plan worked."

“I knew it!" You playfully hit his chest. “You left your lunch on purpose.”

“I knew you would get anxious eventually, and I wanted to make sure that anxiousness brought you to me. I even made sure to slip another sandwich into my lunch sack.”

“Why are you so perfect?”

Logan’s head fell back as he laughed. “Not perfect, sweetheart. Just doing what I can to help my wife. Come on,” he took your hand and grabbed the lunch, “let's eat in the bed of the truck."

Logan pulled you to the back of the truck, handing you the lunch, before lowering the door to the bed of the truck. With gentle hands, Logan lifted you up to sit there before joining you. The two of you enjoyed your lunch, laughing and chatting. Logan’s coworkers kept glancing your way, almost in shock.

“I’m gonna go finish up, and then we’ll head home,” Logan said after lunch. “You okay to wait?”

“As long as you need,” you replied.

Logan smiled before giving you a kiss. “I’ll be quick.” He jogged off to clean up his work area.

“Well, I didn't know you had it in you, Howlett,” one of the men said. “You’re a big softie.”

“Only for the wife.” He looked back at you, only to see you smiling and waving at him. 

“You’re lucky.”

“You have no idea.”

[biancadoes1]

I know we want to move past all this craziness. And I agree we should. But I’ve seen comments regarding A and what damage she could possibly do that would warrant things like NDAs and appeasing responses from L and N. People thinking she has no power. And I happen to know of a situation that contradicts that idea.

In another fandom (I won’t name the fandom or the actor), a young actor was accused of… let’s say bad behavior of the criminal kind… by a woman he never even met. The story made its way around the internet. People caught onto it and jumped on the hate bandwagon. He lost his job on a popular show. His career is in the toilet. And his friends/costars abandoned him.

A lie travels around the world twice before the truth even gets up in the morning. Damage can be done. Can be irreversible. And when you love someone, you’ll do all you can to protect them. A (and other side characters) can threaten and be taken seriously. It’s not a leap.

I’m not saying for sure that’s what is happening here. I’m saying that people shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the possible trouble one can cause.

This is a possibility that is very easily swept aside because people think it's too much effort or that this would never be a thing because XYZ.

Also, this is not saying for sure that's what's happening here, so before you get your thongs in a twist make sure you understand this is discussion on the idea surrounding an NDA being in place.

Let's get realistic here. People claiming Luke wouldn't be high profile enough to warrant an NDA for anything is just stupid. Non-disclosure agreements are commonplace - between civilians, businesses and clients, between celebrities and the list goes on.

If there was sensitive information, and it could ANYTHING, then a non-disclosure agreement could be handed out to protect said sensitive information.

You don't need to be Brad fucking Pitt to have an NDA.

What I believe we have seen over the summer when it comes to Luke is very much a contractual agreement of some sort. Nothing about what we saw screams hot boy summer 2.0.

You're also not going to tell me that he just said peace out to Nicola or vice versa after what we watched in Ireland and essentially the entire tour leading up to that.

Sorry. I will never believe that Luke has been with Antonia over a year or that Nicola is dating her friend Jake.

If there's proof of either of these things one day (and I'm talking actual romantic interactions in clear view of a camera, kissing, cuddling etc.) I will gladly go back and eat my words and admit I was wrong.

But I just don't think I am 🤷‍♀️

[samwinchesterthewitch]

CW: noncon (turns mutual later)

The air conditioner in their motel room was broken. Sam thought his skull would split open. The pain was like a band wrapped around his head, squeezing, unwilling to let go until he got what he needed. He was burning up, shaking, his words stammered and breathless as he tried to tell Dean, I have to go.

Dean's eyes said no before his mouth did. To see Ruby?

I need to. I need to, Dean.

But the pain, the pain in his head couldn't compare to the pain in Dean's eyes, and Sam was the cause. He knew he was. He hated hurting Dean, but he needed this, needed to get better, stronger, so he could protect Dean, because Dean had suffered enough in Hell and was broken in ways that Sam couldn't fix, but he could fix this.

Dean's mouth curled. It wasn't a smile.

Sam felt it then, something snap, and it wasn't the band around his head. It wasn't the fingers digging into his shirt, grabbing. Or the hands shoving him on the bed, pushing, demanding. Love in the form of violence wasn't anything new to them.

"No," Dean said, clear through the haze of heat. "I know what you need, and it's not that bitch's blood."

The body on top of his, that wasn't new. But this wasn't sparring. Dean kept him pinned on his front, not letting him fight back, no chance to tap out. Sam struggled, hot with anger, and fear, and his body's shameful response to having his brother so close. He opened his mouth. Dean pressed his face into the pillow. It smelled like cheap beer and sweat.

"You need me, Sam."

This was true. But it didn't make sense, in Sam's melting brain, with his belt being unbuckled, or his jeans being shoved down, the denim rough between his thighs. He couldn't equate the body over his with his brother when leather constricted his hands, cutting into his wrists when he yanked -- his own belt, he realized, it was used to tie his hands to the headboard.

Shock clouded his mind for a moment. Made him go still, frozen, like those nights as a kid when he would just stare at his closet, waiting for the worst. But then Dean was yanking him up by his hair, fingers pushing past Sam's lips, and the shock was gone.

Sam bucked, a choked snarl coming out. He almost bit down, but Dean bit him first, teeth sinking into the meat of his neck -- and then Sam couldn't breathe, caught between a cry and a moan, body and mind wracked with anger fear pleasure pain guilt Dean Dean Dean.

The name came out slurred with Dean's fingers in the way.

"Don't," Dean breathed in his ear, a rough command. Stop. Stop fighting me. "This is all you're getting, Sammy. This is your fault."

This was also, somehow, true, mostly because it was always Sam's fault, all of this was his fault. That was probably why Sam stopped, stopped fighting his brother. Realized that this -- this was happening, and the fingers in his mouth were a kindness, his brother trying to make the punishment easier on him. Sam should be grateful.

He sucked his brother's fingers.

It was too hot, too much heat to think clearly, too sweaty to move. His cheeks were on fire. He didn't know what sounds were coming out of his mouth. It was like a dream come true and a nightmare that would never end, not until he got what he deserved.

Dean started with two. Two fingers, hard and impatient, making Sam's hips buck some more, fingers curling around the belt. He tried gritting his teeth -- the Winchester way, their dad would say, refusing to make a sound -- but Dean would yank on his hair, or twist his fingers, and the gasps came spilling out.

It wasn't much prep. Pain wasn't the problem though. It was hearing Dean take off his own belt, unzip, groan under his breath. It was feeling the head of Dean's hard, heavy cock brush against his rim, realizing that they were past the point of no return. Terrified that this would ruin them, that Dean would regret it once he calmed down and hate himself even more, Sam tried again. "Dean, st--"

Dean split him open. Sam muffled his scream in the pillow.

Too hot, he was suffocating. Burning. Was this what Hell was like for Dean? Sam tried to cling onto a coherent thought, but anger fear guilt pain pain pain my brother is fucking me took over.

Everything was in shards, fragments.

He's angry.

Pain everywhere.

It's my fault.

Dean's breath, heavy and fast, hot on the back of his neck.

But I need to--

Hands on his hips, hand on his scar, the one on his lower back from when he died and Dean traded his soul to get him back.

Ruby's the only--

"Don't say her name," Dean growled, and fuck, Sam said that out loud, didn't he? "Don't even think about her. All you need is this--"

Another thrust, but this time, a spark. More heat, but inside him, fizzling in his stomach. Sam clenched, mouth dropping in a moan. He didn't have to look to know his brother was smirking, that same look he got whenever he was right. Sam forgot what they were arguing about, but he knew who was winning.

"Say it, Sammy." Hot, so hot in his ear. "Say you only need me."

The stubborn little brother in Sam didn't want to. But his big brother kept going, pain oozing out of Sam's body, hips rising up for more of that feeling buzzing in his nerves, throbbing in his chest. His vision went blurry as Dean bore down harder, faster, determined to get the answer he wanted. Expecting his baby brother to give in.

Sam felt it coming. He was hard now, he needed to cum, the friction of the bed and his brother's cock desperately pushing in and out, harder each time -- the words just came out on their own.

"I only n-need you."

He was lifted up by his hair again, gasping. Panting and choking out little moans and whimpers while his brother kept going. "Louder," he growled, so Sam said it louder. "Who do you need?"

"You! Just you, Dean!"

"Right. Right, just me, just your big brother."

It was coiling inside him. Sam gasped out, "Need to--"

"No." In, out. Clench, release. Sam nearly sobbed. "You don't get that. If you're gonna cum, it's gonna be from my dick. Nothing else."

This seemed totally unfair in Sam's sex-cloudy mind. "Dean," he whined, like they were kids again. The thought should have snapped him out of -- whatever this was.

It didn't. Dean kept fucking him, and Sam came just from that, all over the cheap motel sheets.

---

The air conditioner was still broken. The digital clock read 4:56 in the morning. Sam's wrists had bruises and welts in them when Dean finally untied his belt from the headboard. Sam himself was also covered in bruises, and bites, and cum, and sweat.

His baby brother was out cold. Lost the energy to even jerk his hips up after the seventh time. A part of Dean was grateful for that; better then admitting his dick was totally spent.

The evidence of his crime was laid out on Dean's bed, eyes closed and breathing slowly. Dean pulled the covers over his brother like he was tucking him in, before sighing and forcing himself to drag his feet to the bathroom.

The self-loathing could come later. For now, all that mattered was that Sam was here. Safe. Nowhere near Ruby or any other fucking demon who wanted to take advantage of his brother.

Dean protected him, like always.

That's all that mattered.

S4 Dean deciding that to keep Sam from sneaking out at night to meet Ruby, he's just gonna have to dick down his brother so hard he nearly passes out. Every night. For Sam's safety.

PLEASE.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Heartache ⭑

Masterlist

Request: Yes, this one

A/N: Had to tweak it a teeny tiny bit but hope you like it anon!

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff, mentions of trauma

Summary: Once best friends now turned against each other, will their betrothal mend their rift?

Word count: 5k

6 years before, early days of summer

He shouldn’t be doing this, every muscle in his body had a mind of its own. But rage and shame that moved like a storm within him drove him further. Breath caught in his throat when he heard the faint roar of a dragon down below. If he was caught he would be in so much trouble, but that wasn’t going to stop him now. If he wanted a dragon, he was going to have to work for it, that much was clear.

His feet shuffled further and further down and his thoughts wandered off, were there even any unclaimed dragons in the dragon pit? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t change his mind now. He was so close, what would you think? Would you treat him differently if he came back with a dragon? Maybe you would at least finally stop pitying him, your brothers would stop bullying him. Maybe Aegon would finally leave him alone. He was never going to find out though if he didn’t round this corner. 

He was at last down in the caves, hiding behind a stone wall as he listened to a dragon rustle close by. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and carefully peeked around the corner, flashes of a big blue dragon caught his eye, Dreamfyre. If he ran further down now he had a chance of not getting burned alive by his sister's dragon. So he counted down 3…2…1, go, he hastily rounded the corner but in his hastness his fabric covered shoulder got caught against the rough stone wall, making him trip and fall. 

Dreamfyre’s big eyes turned to him and she let out a piercing roar, her fire almost burning him as he quickly scrambled to his feet, almost tripping again in the sand, as he made a run for it. He thought he could get away with it and pretend it never happened, but as he ran up, back to the arena of the pit, the dragon keepers stared at him in fury. “Skorkydoso dare ao jikagon against se rules, nyke jāhor report bisa naejot se dārys!” How dare you go against the rules, I will report this to the king! Tears filled his eyes, how could he have cowarded away, he wanted to prove himself but instead all he proved was that he was weak.

‘The Pink Dread’ stared at him as he passed the pig, the dragon keeper dragging him firmly along by his arm. All he could mutter was a meek, “Iksan vaoreznuni.” I’m sorry. He knew his mother would lose her mind over this, it wasn’t the first time he was caught and it was certainly not the first time he ran away from the dragons like a coward. Once he was back in the Red Keep, he luckily didn’t run into his brother or his nephews and when he reached his mothers bedchamber door he couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. And he was proven right, his mother was furious.

When he left his mothers chambers, his tears had dried and all that was left was fury. How could he be shamed like this, time and time again. All that consumed his thoughts was ‘What if his egg had hatched?’ ‘Would Aegon still have made fun of him?’ It was almost supper time but he still let his feet guide him to the inner courtyard. There was no one there, just like he suspected. He lowered himself to the ground and hiked his knees up to his chest, he needed silence, needed to think. The big tree looming over him.

A soft rustling of feet pulled him from his thoughts, not that he had any good ones to begin with, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Then he saw her figure in the corner of his eye, lowering herself next to him, joining him on the ground. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t look at her. If she hadn’t already heard from her brother’s, she would’ve probably heard it from the whispers around the castle. “Aegon is cruel, my brothers are young and don’t understand. I...I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble. My brothers certainly didn’t, I heard your mother is furious though, for what they did.” You noticed he didn’t really respond, which was odd. Usually he would at least talk to you about it.

You were his only friend, even though it was discouraged by his mother. Who often called even the eldest, silver haired and purple eyed daughter of Rhaenyra a bastard. He liked to pretend you weren’t, and that your Valyrian features proved it but of course he couldn’t be certain. After a few moments of you staring at him, he spoke, “I’m fine, I just needed to think. Clear my mind.” You nodded at his words but you knew that it was more than that. “You missed supper you know? No one spoke a word but I’m pretty sure everyone knew what happened.” He sighed and looked down at your words, great, he just gave his brother and nephews more material to bully him with. 

His eyes widened when he suddenly felt your small warm hand grasp his. He at last looked at you and saw your soft smile. “You’re not lesser than us just because you don’t have a dragon, yet. The day will come, I promise.” Your words usually soothed him and most of the time he genuinely believed you but something about today, made him break. “Easy for you to say, your dragon actually hatched.” He mumbled irritated, everytime you would tell him he would have a dragon, he rolled his eyes. You didn’t know what it was like, wouldn’t know what it was like. Even a bastard could have a dragon but he could not.

In the late days of summer the shocking news arrived, Laena Velaryon had died. Even though there was a rift in the family, the horrible news of the by everyone beloved Laena had brought them together. But of course tensions never left the air, even as they stood together, they were divided. Aemond saw how her lips thinned at Vaemond Velaryons words, even though he felt justified that at last someone dared to speak up, he still felt bad for her. She was the only one that didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve the cruelty the gods had gifted her. 

The somewhat draining ceremony had concluded but there was still a remembrance feast for the lady Laena. Not that anyone was eating. They were surely drinking though, especially Aegon. He too nursed on a cup of wine as he let his eyes wander the crowd, Laenor hadn’t been seen after the ceremony, no doubt that he was destroyed by grief. His eyes finally found her dressed in black figure. His heart tensed when he saw you hug both the Velaryon girls, comforting them. You were only ten years old but you were more mature than his sixteen year old brother Aegon. 

His mind wandered as it so often did, drawing out Aegon’s nagging about Helaena. Would you comfort him like that if his mother or father died? Finally hold him as he so desired? He hoped so and wondered if he should offer some words of comfort, it would certainly please his mother. Even though he had been punished enough after that night he still felt ashamed and hurt more than ever, even you couldn’t calm the storm inside him. Vhagar’s distant roar snapped him right out of his thoughts. Seven Hells, of course, Laena is dead, the rider of Vhagar. She was free to claim, the largest dragon in the world, if that couldn’t prove how worthy of a Targaryen prince he was, nothing could. 

It would certainly impress you, wouldn’t it? You could even fly together, your dragon was big enough now and you had your first flight mere weeks ago and were now often seen in the sky alongside your mother. Warmth spread through his body at the thought, it was a dream he wanted so badly to come true, so bad he was climbing through the dunes. If he failed this time, it was over, for good. He would never recover if he did not succeed now. He was determined, no one and nothing would stop him, he would claim Vhagar. In the dark it was a bit hard to see but the moonlight then revealed her ginormous body, resting in the sand. 

His breaths came out in short pants, he had never felt this scared in his life. Everything in his body was telling him to run, that it was a mistake. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, he had to do this. And so he had reached her, his trembling hand touched her rough skin, his heart skipped a beat as her eyes snapped open, her low growling echoing through the night. Her head lifted and her giant jaws opened ready to burn him where he stood. He quickly held up his hand, “Dohaeras! Dohaeras Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri!” She seemed to calm somewhat at his words and at least closed her jaws. A new power and determination flowed through him as he grasped the ropes hanging from her body, making his way up to the saddle. When he sat, he loosened the reins among the horns of the saddle, “Soves!” Vhagar looked at him for a moment and he repeated, “Dohaeras Vhagar! Soves!” 

Her giant body moved, shaking the ground beneath her, finally taking to the sky. Aemond almost fell off but he held on thight and made his way back in the saddle. He was sure his screams could be heard back on Driftmark and he was right in a way. Both the girls leered out the window as Vhagar’s body rose to the sky. You were comfy in your bed, telling Luke for the tenth time to stop snoring so you could finally get some rest, but when he had at last shut up, the door opened and Baela and Rhaena entered the room. Awake already, you quickly rose at their words, someone had claimed Vhagar. You knew it was Aemond, who else could it be?

You, Jace and Luke followed the two sisters down to the caves, where Aemond had just appeared. He took note of the disappointing look on your face, something he didn’t expect. Weren’t you proud of him? He finally had a dragon, why weren’t you happy for him? “It’s you.” Baela spoke up, “Yes it’s me.” You looked down at your feet, even though you knew he had every right to claim Vhagar for himself, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Rhaena. “She was mine to claim!” Rhaena said angrily, Baela standing next to her. Next thing you knew vile insults were thrown and so were hands. You tried to stop him, you really did, but Jace bumped into you while getting pushed by Aemond and took you with him. It happened so fast, Aemond bent over in pain clasping at his wound, blood pouring in the sand. You hadn’t realised you screamed.

You hid behind your mother as the king sneered angrily, you were terrified, terrified when the maester proclaimed his eye could not be saved and even more terrified of what would happen to Luke. But the king surprisingly did not take action, Aemond seemed to accept his sacrifice for a dragon but Alicent did not. Once again screams echoed through the room and your mother held Alicent in a tight grasp. You didn’t understand how, but all of a sudden everyone stood still, silent. Then you noticed the blood dripping from your mothers arm on the floor. Even though you all got off easy for such a grave accident, the actions completely ripped the family apart, and you feared it could never be mended. 

Present time, early days of fall

Tension was high in the air as your mother told you the news. After years of leaving King’s Landing, your ‘father’ dead and Daemon now taking his place, you were to return to King’s Landing. You had mixed feelings over your betrothal to Aemond, he was once your best friend and you his. But after that night, everything changed, the two of you had not spoken after the incident and you already knew it was going to be hard seeing him again. He was now eight and ten years old, you five and ten. 

Alicent agreed to the betrothal desperately made by your mother to somewhat mend the family, it seemed like a good idea, to her. Jace would marry Baela and they would one day rule, Luke was to marry Rhaena and then rule in Driftmark. And you, well you would serve as a wife in King’s Landing, more like serve as a peacekeeper. A reminder that the family ‘was one’. The journey was not a long one since Dragon Stone and King’s Landing were fairly close and a short dragonflight away. The household would follow on ship, you, your mother and father, Jace and Luke would take to the sky. 

The day was still quite early when you all made your arrival to the Dragon Pit, a large coach already waiting to take you to the Red Keep. Once you were inside, the coach started moving and you noticed small folk scattered around in the city, cheering. Were they happy about this union? Did they even know of how divided this family was? Perhaps not, it would actually be a good thing if they thought all was well, otherwise it would create doubt and that would be bad. 

You were greeted only by lord Caswell, questioning looks being passed. Someone of your mother’s station being greeted this way was rather offensive. But you were quite happy to have this small audience, nerves were eating away at you at the thought of seeing Aemond again. But you also reeked of dragon and wanted to clean up before meeting anyone. And so you were brought to your chambers, a hot bath waiting for you. To the servants surprise you sent them away, all you wanted was to lower yourself in the hot water and relax, think and calm yourself for the supper that would occur tonight. The supper that would officiate the betrothal in front of the king, in front of the whole family. 

You hoped you wouldn’t suffer a similar fate to Helaena, for you knew how miserable her marriage to Aegon was. You could luckily only imagine what being married to a drunk like him would be like. The bath calmed you somewhat and you were nice and clean by the time servants came back to dress you in a beautiful gown. But they didn’t bring one of your own, one of the servants nervously looked at you as she clasped the green gown in her hands, two dragons seemed to be embroidered on the corset, your dragon… and Aemonds. Did Alicent do this? You hoped it wouldn’t start another fight in the family but you reluctantly let them dress you anyway. 

Supper was getting awfully close and a servant started to work on your hair, a typical Valyrian braided hairstyle, with some emerald pins keeping it in place. Even though the colour green was pretty much forbidden by your mother on Dragon Stone, it still looked beautiful on you. Your stomach started to hurt, like it usually did when you were nervous. You dreaded this entire thing, of course you wanted to see Aemond again but the way the circumstances have changed everything made it so difficult to pretend. Your feet shuffled behind your mother to the dining room, it was decorated beautifully, something you decided to focus on to keep the nerves at bay. 

Then you saw them, Otto, Alicent, your grandsire, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. All standing to welcome you, however you felt like you were going to throw up. They did not look particularly happy, except for the king of course. He was delighted to see his daughter again, he could barely stand even with his cane but somehow still managed to hug his beloved daughter. Then the king shifted his eyes to you and then to Aemond, a bit of a forced smile now on his face. “What a joyous occasion today, joining our families as one. My son and granddaughter binding their ties. Let us celebrate, please take your seats.” He almost panted out, he could barely walk or talk anymore, everything costing too much energy. 

You let your eyes shift over Aemond’s figure, he was so much taller now. Towering over you by at least a head. His eye patch covering the dark past between you. And even you had to admit he had become a very handsome man. Aemond gestured next to him as he sat down, you didn’t even realise you were the only one still standing. You took a deep breath and made your way over to the empty seat the servant was holding back for you. And so you sat next to Otto Hightower and your betrothed. You could barely listen to the king’s speech when Aemond was so close, he smelled nice, must’ve used perfume oil in his bath. His now massive hands rested on the table. When you noticed him looking you quickly diverted your eyes. 

Supper was incredibly draining and of course ended in a fight, surprisingly Aemond pushed you out of the way to safety when things broke loose, and Otto Hightower himself put his arm in front of you, ensuring you wouldn’t go near the danger. Even though things ended somewhat amicably, you still veered towards Aemonds chamber. You still remembered the path well, the light of the moon shining through the halls of the Red Keep. You had to talk to him, really, talk to him. None of that polite and stiff small talk during supper. 

The dark wooden door seemed so much more imposing now that it was in front of you but you lifted your hand anyway and knocked three times on his door, something you used as a code when you were kids. His eyes snapped from the fireplace at the sound of the knocks. No one ever knocked three times on his door, no one but you. He swiftly rose from his seat and made his way to the door, before he opened it he took a deep breath. He couldn’t appear weak now, not after all this time, not in front of you. He opened the door and it revealed your figure. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” You spoke softer than you wanted. He didn’t say anything, instead he stepped to the side and gestured for you to come inside. He was quieter now that he had grown older, something you had noticed during supper as well. You both sat down on his settee in the room. Since he kept quiet you decided to kick the dreaded conversation off. “I never… I never got the chance to talk to you… after what happened. I’m so sorry Aemond. I wish I could’ve stopped Luke, if only Jace didn’t take me with him as he fell down-” 

“Stop.” His low voice cut through the room, through your sentence. You swallowed hard, was he mad at you as well? “We don’t need to do this.” He urged. His gaze was on the fireplace again, not even looking at you. “Aem-” Aem, a nickname he hadn’t heard in years, a nickname which once brought him joy now hurt him deeply. He felt betrayed and angry, that even you left him behind. “Do you hate me now?” You asked, if he didn’t want to talk you had to force it out of him, which you could only do by being direct. 

He sighed before he spoke. “I could never hate you, I know you wish no more for this betrothal than I do.” His words cut you like a knife. Did he actually not want you? Did he also see you as a bastard now? “What? Aem-” He stood from his seat and walked to the door, opening it. “I think it’s best you leave.” You shook your head in disbelief, the Aemond you once knew was gone and this hardened, cold man replaced him. “No, you can’t just kick me out. We have to talk about this, we are getting married! Please, let’s just talk, like old times.” He looked down at the ground, still not looking at you. 

You stormed over to him and grabbed his jaw, hearing the slight gasp in his breath. “Why won’t you even look at me!” You yelled now. He couldn’t bear to look at you, he wanted to be angry, to push you away like you had him and he knew that one look at your beautiful eyes would make all that anger melt away. Reluctantly he finally let his eyes find yours, and right as he predicted, all his anger melted away. Desperation took its stead, he was desperate for you to touch his hand again, to comfort him again. 

His head then hung low and your hand let go of his jaw. He closed the door and walked back over to the settee. “You don’t have to pretend, not in front of me.” You said making your way back over to the settee, joining him again. “What do you mean by that.” He grumbled. “Oh please, you know what I mean, you used to be sweet and kind and now you’re colder than the north.” He looked at you with disdain. He couldn’t believe what you were saying, anger bubbled in his gut again. “You mean the night your bastard brother took my eye? And then not getting punished for it? Or do you mean the years of bullying I’ve endured, suffering by Aegon’s hand even after I claimed the largest dragon in the world?” He snapped. Now standing again, pacing the room in frustration. 

Seeing you and your family made it all come to the surface again, for a year or four he had some peace again, but that was all shattered when he got betrothed to you. You looked at him with confusion, had Aegon continued to bully him after you left? You stood as well and walked over to him. “It doesn’t need to be like this, we can go back to what we once had, please.” Aemond’s resolve seemed to crumble a bit, the idea was so tempting, yet he still showed some restraint. You noticed it, the battle going on inside him, so you stepped forward, closer and closer to him. You noticed his widened eyes, then you wrapped your arms around him. You hadn’t hugged him in years, the last time being the whole situation with ‘the pink dread’. He completely tensed up at first.

But as you held him longer, his arms found his way around you, hugging you close. The wall around him seemed to fall the longer you held each other. “I missed you so much Aem.” You mumbled against his chest. Tears welled up in eye as you spoke. He couldn’t believe it, he had you in his arms again and you were to be his wife. Before you left that was his dream, having a dragon and you, and now it was to become true. 

One year later, early days of summer

Vaemond Velaryon asking for a petition for Driftmark was a grave offence to your family, you had been married to Aemond for a couple of months now and finally mended the rift between the two of you. In that time, you had gotten to know him again, he still studied history and philosophy, still trained with the sword and still lacked affection. You were horrified when he finally told you of what Aegon did to him after you left. The pain you felt for him went beyond words and after that night, when he told you while laying against your chest, you went above and beyond to make him feel loved. You felt like it was the very least you could do for him and so now here you were, about four times a week Aemond would have a bath but it wasn’t the servants that washed him, it was his own lady wife. 

The water splashed softly when you dipped the sponge in again, carefully washing the dirt of skin. He felt his entire body relax under your touch, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eye patch somewhere discarded in the room, he didn’t need it when he was alone with you. The realm had profited greatly from your marriage with Aemond, everyone seemed calm and happy. But you could feel the storm coming with the petition on the morrow. Your family had already arrived today and you told them how happy you were and that seemed to do well for now. 

When you finished washing his body, you kissed the top of his head before moving on to wash his long hair. He hummed softly when your fingers massaged his scalp, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly. He loved the way you cared for him, it's all he wanted his entire life. You kissed his head a few more times while washing his hair, then you helped him dry off and get back into his breeches. Making him sit down, you grabbed a comb and started to carefully comb through his silver locks, making sure to braid it before bed.

You had already prepared yourself to sleep, so now the both of you crawled in the sheets, and as he layed in your arms, falling into a deep slumber, anxiety of what could happen on the morrow clouded your mind and sleep evaded you. The morning soon came and you walked next to Aemond as you entered the throne room, Aegon and Helaena in front of you. Your family already stood to the right, the Velaryons to the left. Everything had gone so well these past few months, why did Vaemond have to ruin it?

The petition started as bad as you expected, you gave Luke and Jace soft comforting smiles through the ordeal but when your mothers turn to speak came, the giant doors opened and the king dragged himself in, stumbling to his throne. Of course you knew of the Hightowers conspiracy with Vaemond, it was quite plain to see but you held your tongue, you didn’t want to ruin the bliss you were in after all these years. But when the king had spoken, Vaemond’s sneer was a clear sign of what was to come. The horrible insults that left his lips, shattered your dream, you looked at Aemond with tears in your eyes but your stomach turned when you saw the small smirk on his lips. 

Your lips parted and gasped when Vaemond’s head was cut off by Daemon. Aemond then stepped in front of you, holding you back and protecting your eyes. But that did nothing to erase the memory of him smiling at Vaemond calling your brothers, including you, bastards. Hurt consumed you and you wanted nothing more than to take to the sky on your dragon and leave, what Aemond just did could not be easily forgiven. Supper was even worse, if the last time you all had supper was any indication this could only go wrong but you couldn’t care less, the knife in your back only seethed deeper as you saw Jace and Baela laugh, even Rhaena and Luke were having a good time. 

Aemond just had to ruin it. He tried to reach out, caress your hand on the table but you pulled back and ignored him when he gave you a questioning look. Then he noticed Luke smirking at the scene. He lost it. He raised his cup and made sure to give an even worse speech than last year. Only this time, swords were drawn, you didn’t care to see how this ended, instead you left. Your steps were hurried as you made your way back to your shared bedchamber, slamming the door behind you. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sat on your bed, all you had was ruined. It went so well and it just had to get destroyed. You knew your marriage was fragile but you didn’t want to believe it. At last Aemond returned.

He too slammed the door behind him and stormed over to you. “Why are you acting like this? You humiliated me!” He seethed. You only looked at him with red eyes, you only now realised what a selfish person he was. Of course he went through so much but so did you and you didn’t deserve his anger. “I humiliated you? What about Vaemond humiliating me?! Insulting your own wife in front of you and you smiled! Smiled! How could you do that to me?! And that speech, just to further humiliate me!” His face fell at that, he never even realised he smiled, never realised that his wife was still Rhaenyra’s child. “My love…” He started but you didn’t want to give him the time. “I want to join my family on the journey back to Dragon Stone. I’ve barely seen them and wish to spend time with them, to think.” You stated, you left no room for argument.

You saw how his face turned to panic. “No. No no no, I’m sorry, I never realised. I never meant to hurt you my love please. Please don’t leave, I need you here.” You shook your head. “You made your bed, now lie in it.” His eye teared up, and pleaded again. “I need you, please don’t leave me, not again. I can’t go without you again. I’m begging you.” You shook your head again, “Some time apart might do us good, maybe you’ll realise how much I do for you and how little I get back.” Words couldn’t describe how his heart broke at the sight of you boarding the ship, no kiss goodbye, nothing, his life was empty yet again. He could only hope you returned soon.