#its been so long since I last read the series

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Ten: The Weight of the Crown

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's been a while, but I'm glad to be back. It's been about 3 months since I last updated (for those reading along with the uploads), so I recommend reading the last chapter as a quick refresh. Thank you for reading and your continuous support. Be sure to comment on how you're feeling after the end of this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. You'll understand why soon enough. Happy reading!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of miscarriage, sexism, angst, we're mentally ill folks.

The sea air clung to the rocks of Dragonstone as Gaelithox, carrying you from King’s Landing, flew into the sulfuric caverns of the Dragonmont, emerald wings beating. It was a bitter homecoming but a welcome one nonetheless. The constant rush of the clouds, the cold winter sky above, and the dark stone of the castle all felt familiar. Despite everything that had happened, Dragonstone was where you felt safest. The echoes of the storm that had just passed felt distant as you made your way toward the castle’s entrance, the weight of the journey lifting with every step. 

It had been a turbulent time at the Red Keep. The petition against Luke’s claim to the Driftwood throne, the death of Vaemond Velaryon at Daemon’s hands, and the lingering tension still hung between your two families. The most unexpected event was the moment with Aemond within the darkness of your childhood chambers, feeling his touch, unsteady and desperate yet confident of its path. Despite all the turmoil in his arms, you felt a sense of peace that had long eluded you. The vulnerability in his gaze, the careful way he held you, and those memories clung to you; though you had not spoken of it, a quiet joy bloomed inside you.

Your family was only away for a day, but it felt like a moon. Dragonstone was your sanctuary, its halls frigid but comforting, its chambers filled with memories of the past. Yet, somehow, they felt different now. For better or worse, something had shifted.

As you entered the Hall of the Painted Table, you saw your family settling in after their return, and you were the last to take leave from King’s Landing. Your mother, the ever-gracious heir to the Iron Throne, spoke softly with Daemon, their conversation punctuated by brief smiles as she stroked her swelling stomach. Luke and Jace laughed in the corner, clearly relieved to be away from the tense atmosphere of the Red Keep as Baela and Rhaena stayed at their betrothed sides.

You offered Jace a forced smile, unable to hide how your heart stopped at seeing him next to your cousin. Perhaps Dragonstone was no longer a place of consistency that you remembered. That needn’t matter now; all that did was your future, which was no longer tied to Jace.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside you as your mind wandered. If your mother agreed, you would soon wed to Aemond. The thought of it sent a surge of hope through you, but the joy was not one you could share openly. 

As you moved to join your family, Jace’s eyes found you immediately. His sharp gaze lingered on you with a curious intensity. His brow furrowed as he stepped toward you, and a glimmer of concern flickered across his face. 

“You seem different,” Jace remarked, his voice low enough to keep the conversation private. “You were distraught last night, and now you’re practically floating. What happened?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Jace had always been perceptive; he was your twin and a part of your mind and soul. The last thing you wanted was to have him probing into your emotions. Still, you couldn’t lie outright.

“I am just glad to be home. It has been a long two days,” you sighed, offering Jace a smile that did not quite meet your eyes. “We all have our burdens, brother. Mine are not so heavy now.”

Jace’s gaze softened, but his eyes remained wary. “Is that all? You were…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words as your despair from last night echoed in his mind. “You seemed so unsettled.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain without revealing your secret. It was unlike you to withhold something significant from your twin, but you were uncertain if you wanted to tell him, knowing how Jace felt about Aemond. The truth was, you had not expected to feel this way after everything that happened. The hope you had harbored for so long that one day you could mend the broken promises had somehow become a noiseless reality. The thought of a life with Aemond, beyond the shadows of the courtly politics and grudges, filled you with joy, but it wasn’t something you could tell Jace.

“I am simply… finding peace with our mother’s decision,” you said, your voice vague but resolute, smoothing your wrinkled riding skirt. “Tis nothing to concern yourself with.”

Jace’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unconvinced, but he did not press further as Baela grabbed his attention. He gave a short nod and clapped a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Well, I am glad you have found some comfort. I love you, sister, and if you need anything-”

“I am fine,” you interrupted sternly, giving him a tight, reassuring smile that stretched your wind burnt cheeks.

As Jace walked away, still looking back over his shoulder with a knowing frown, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You hated lying to him, especially when you could see the concern written across his face, but something inside told you this happiness was yours to keep for now, at least until the time was right. 

You looked across the mixed waters of Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea through the high, arching windows, savoring the silent joy you felt. You knew that whatever came next, whatever trivial battles you would have to face with this decision, whatever challenges would arise, this moment was yours alone. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that, perhaps, this was the beginning of something pure.

The sun shone in a wash of molten gold as your mother leaned back in her study chair, the weight of her unseen crown seemingly heavier than usual after all that unfolded in King’s Landing. Her blonde hair gleamed in the warm light, strands catching like spun silver webs against the intricate embroidery of her black and red gown. You tentatively approached your mother as she poured over her writing desk, deep in thought, and stood before her, heart hammering in your chest, struggling to form words.

“Mother,” you began hesitantly, your voice wavering. 

Your mother looked up from the pieces of parchment strewn about the oak top, her gaze light as she noticed your fidgeting fingers. 

“I must tell you something before you return to King’s Landing.” You had battled with telling her of the proposal since Queen Alicent discussed it, scratching your scalp until it was tender and raw.

Like yours, yet so different, your mother’s sharp eyes squinted, filled with curiosity and faint weariness as she raised a light-colored brow. You could sense her anxiety slowly pique at your statement, but she hid it well, allowing you to continue.

“Go on,” she prompted, her tone gentle but carrying an unmistakable authority. You understood yesterday had taken as much of a toll on you as her with the light indigo crescents underneath her eyes.

Swallowing hard and clutching your hands to stop them from trembling, you inhaled deeply. It was best to finish it now, like ripping off a freshly healed scab. “Queen Alicent has requested that I accompany you to King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead wrinkled slightly, a flicker of suspicion darting across her face. “Oh?” She straightened in her chair. “And what reason might that be?”

“The Queen,” you said, your voice faltering as you twisted three fingers in your fist, attempting to channel your anxiety, “has proposed a betrothal between me and Prince Aemond.”

The silence followed was as heavy as the stones forming the Dragonmont itself. Your mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For a moment, you feared she might refuse outright, her pride and long-standing animosity with Alicent taking precedence.

“She thought this would help heal the divisions,” you hurriedly continued as if to justify the decision, taking a few hurried paces towards her. You felt like a child begging your parents to allow you to stay up past bedtime. “I agreed, and so did Prince Aemond.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, though a shadow of unease remained. She rose from her seat, ambling toward you, her hands clasped tightly. “You spoke with him, and he agreed?” she asked quietly. “Truly?”

You nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. “Queen Alicent came to me while packing my belongings and proposed the courtship. I was hesitant at first, knowing our history, but,” you paused, swallowing the abrupt lump in your throat, “I believe this to be the best course of action for our House.”

A faint sigh escaped her lips as she placed a hand on your shoulder. Rhaenyra remembered when she was in a similar position, her father having arranged an engagement tour that ended with the threat of disinheritance and a loveless marriage. It would be better for you to choose your suitor, she decided. She did not want you to suffer the same fate.

“While I am not pleased that Alicent didn’t bring the matter to me first,” she began, voice terse and arms crossed as she sighed softly. “If this is what you desire, and if it will bring peace to our families, then so be it, but understand this partly stems from my fear of how Alicent might react if I refuse. The path of political marriages and alliances is best traveled with our minds and not our hearts.” Your mother’s angular face displayed a profound sense of intensity, one you had never seen before, as her lithe fingers tenderly stroked the crown of your loose hair. 

“We must tread carefully, my brave girl.” Her words carried devotion and caution, and while her agreement brought relief, the tension in your chest refused to dissipate entirely.

“Rest now. We shall return to the Keep with the good news on the morrow,” your mother ordered, her voice softening as she cupped your face briefly. “We have a long journey ahead of us, and you’ll need your strength.”

You nodded obediently and left her chamber with a flutter in your ribs, unable to hide your smile. Sleep eluded you as you tucked yourself under the soft covers of your bed. Your mind raced with thoughts of Aemond—of his piercing violet eye, the quiet intensity of his presence as you felt the textured warmth of the scar on his cheek. The idea of him lying in these elegant blue sheets with you stirred something thrilling yet terrifying within you.

Finally, unable to bear the restless energy that gnawed at you, you rose with a swift flick of your covers and slipped out into Aegon’s Garden.

The sun hung halfway on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the sprawling palace gardens. The gentle, melodic symphony of the ocean’s crashing waves flitted through the air as you knelt amidst rows of once-lush vegetables, fruits, and flora. This patch of dirt was your sanctuary, a plot you tended not for the court’s tables but for the smallfolk who occasionally relied on its yield. 

Sod clung to your fingers as you dug into the soil, feeling its cold, gritty texture. A faint smile graced your lips as you recalled the baker’s son’s joy when you handed him a basket of potatoes from the prior harvest. However, your family did not share the same sentiment, scolding you for being unguarded with the smallfolk.

The garden around you continued to buzz with the beginnings of life as you fell into a calm rhythm. A gentle breeze carried the sweet aroma of the crocus blossoms. Winter was almost ending, and you needed to ensure the ground was ready for spring. Still, you could only focus on the excited feeling in your gut. 

In an instant, your serenity was torn apart by the swift swish of skirts and the panicked voice of your handmaiden, Edwina. Her breathless urgency sliced through the calm, each word tumbling out in a rush as if the very air around her crackled with unease.

“My Lady Velaryon!” Edwina’s voice quivered a fragile sound that echoed in your chest. 

As you looked up, your heart plummeted at the focused image of your maid standing before you. Her eyes, usually bright and full of warmth, were now wide with distress and glistening with unshed tears. 

“What is it, Edwina?” you inquired, brows furrowed, and your voice tinged with concern. Hurriedly rising to your feet, the soft, loamy scent of freshly turned dirt from the garden still clung to your clothes and mingled with your faint citrus perfume. 

“Your mother,” Edwina stammered, clutching her skirt as though trying to steady herself. “She… she’s in labor.”

You felt the world tilt, a disconcerting sway that threatened to pull you off balance. It was far too early for the babe, mere months into its fragile journey. Fear knotted in your stomach as you took in the reality of the situation. With each heavy breath, your fist gripped the wooden handle of your trowel, feeling the rough grain beneath your fingertips. You held it tightly as though it was the only solid thing in the chaotic swirl of your thoughts. 

“Where is she? I must-” you began, a frantic pounding in your chest, but Edwina’s trembling voice cut through.

“There’s more,” she whispered, as though speaking it aloud would make it more true. “The king, your grandfather…” she couldn’t get the words out, breathes coming in pants. “King Viserys is dead, and they’ve crowned Aegon in your mother’s stead.”

Time seemed to slow as the words echoed in your mind, clashing and overlapping like waves against jagged rocks. 

Dead. 

Grandfather, the man who barely held the family together, a monarch who, despite his flaws, had been a steady presence in your life, was gone. You knew it was inevitable with the state he was in, but so soon after you left King’s Landing? It made your heart sink into the cold dirt below. And your mother… your mother was losing the child who might have softened the blow of this loss. 

Your mind raced with thousands of thoughts as the future was overturned. You should have known this happiness was just another farce, that your existence was meant to be one of turmoil and suffering. Perhaps you were not destined or deserving to experience a fraction of the happiness others around you possessed because of your inherently sinful nature, what happened with Aegon, and what you did with Jace. 

Breath hastening, you quickly withheld the tears you desperately wanted to shed. “How?” you managed to choke out, voice hoarse. “How did he die?” 

It did not matter how your grandfather died. The answer wouldn’t change the outcome. Still, you wanted to know, to have the weight lifted off your conscience for not being there in his final moments. 

Edwina hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground as though searching for the courage to speak. “They say… they say it was in his sleep, but there are whispers, your highness. Whispers of treachery. The Queen was the last to see him in his chambers and said he wished for Aegon to be king.”

The confession struck you like a blade. Treachery and lies, the court was rife with ambition and deceit. You had grown up amidst its murky depths, but to imagine someone close, your kin, being a victim was unbearable. Your fingers curled into fists, the dirt beneath your nails now a stark reminder of the life you had just been cultivating. Life and death intertwined in cruel, unrelenting cycles.

“I have to go,” you blurted, your tone turning to steel despite the tempest of emotions roiling within you. Brushing past Edwina, your mind raced with grief, fear, and fury, but as you stepped onto the stone path leading to the castle, you paused, returning your gaze to the garden.

The rows of upturned dirt seemed almost mocking in their stillness, a sharp contrast to the chaos consuming your world. A thought flickered through your mind. What would become of the realm? Innocents would perish because Alicent, Otto Hightower, and whatever gluttonous lords decided to place their kin on the throne. 

With your grandfather gone and your mother’s precarious position as the true ruler falling into position, it was your duty to step into your rightful place in the line of succession as her heir. You would display the fruits of your studies and handle this uncertain path with an intelligence and dignity worthy of being the rightful queen’s heir. To the whole realm, you would prove to the Great Houses that your blood House Targaryen, ruled by women, was one of unimpeachable strength and wisdom.

You swallowed hard, setting your jaw as your mind calmed. This was not the time for rash decisions filled with emotions. People like you could not afford such luxuries when others’ lives were at stake. There would be a time to grieve, but not now and not in front of others.

“Tell the groundskeepers to send someone to tend to the garden. I fear I won’t be able to for some time,” you instructed Edwina with a stern nod. “The smallfolk must not suffer because of the Hightowers’ greed.”

And with that, you strode toward the castle, heart-shattering with every step. Yet amidst the grief and uncertainty, a seed of resolve took root. If your mother was still breathing and at least some of the Great Houses remembered their oaths, you would ensure the world did not crumble beneath your kin’s feet. 

While war was imminent, you could still attempt to salvage alliances and oaths before bloodshed. Part of you hoped that, somehow, the brief future that you envisioned with Aemond was not a fantasy but an end to a long and bloody path ahead.

Screams were heard throughout the halls, servants and maids averting their gaze from you as if they were looking upon the Stranger as they instinctively bowed in their red garbs. The tension in the air was palpable as you hurried to your mother’s chamber, thick skirts in your fists. You could hear her ladies before you entered, voices taught with terror and encouragement as they begged your mother to allow them to help her.

Entering without proper announcement, you swiftly approached your mother, crouched beside her bed, face buried between her legs. Blood stained her once pristine smock in an ombre of crimson and pink, tears of empathy welling in your eyes as you kneeled beside her.

“I’m here, Mother,” you announced, trying to comfort her and not invade her space. She lifted her head from where it was focused on the bloodiest part of her dress, covering what you knew hid beneath it.

She seemed at war with wanting to push you away while also craving the comfort her eldest daughter brought. Rhaenyra knew there was something different about this birth, more than the apparent premature arrival. It hurt differently than her previous ones, a pain so unusual to her body that it felt as if she was passing a beast instead of a child as another contraction seized her muscles. Her father and her throne were stolen from her within seconds, and now her child. Rhaenyra could never imagine such a fate.

“Your grandsire is dead,” your mother declared through gritted teeth, nails digging into her thigh to distract from the pain as she stared at the ceiling. “And Aegon sits on the throne.” 

“I know, Mama, I know. I’m here for you, not to scheme. To do my duty as your daughter and help you through this,” you confessed with a sob, tears finally falling free and blinding your vision as you wiped at the sweat glistening on her brow. “You are strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for, mother. I’ve watched you politic and navigate the courts and come standing with your pride. You have just come from securing Luke’s inheritance. Your father, who had not been seen sitting on the Iron Throne for years, did so for you.”

It hurt to see her in such a state that you could not help but let your heart speak. Your proud, fierce mother, who dealt with slimy lords and deceitful ladies with unwavering grace, was now forced to fight another battle, one against her own body, where words could not protect her.

Love shone through the discomfort in her amethyst eyes as your encouraging words momentarily distracted her. “Where is Daemon?” She asked her lady-in-waiting, Elinda, who shared the same puffy, distraught visage you did. 

You took this opportunity to take the clean linens from one of the helpless maids and a basin of fresh water, returning to your mother’s side. 

“He’s gathered the council members, your highness,” she answered, an anxious wrinkle on her forehead. 

Another wave of pain passed through Rhaenyra at the thought of her husband plotting his war in his grief, abandoning his wife in her desperate time of need. There was no telling what Daemon would do in his madness.

Anger erupted in your veins as you soaked a rag in the cool water and placed it on the back of your mother’s neck. You should not have felt pleased for her to see the man Daemon was in this way, but you knew he would do this. It was in his character, though you wished he would have revealed himself more opportunistically. 

“I will fetch him for you, Mother,” you offered sternly, but she waved away the idea. 

Your mother grunted with exertion as she pushed herself up, using your arm for support as she paced to one of the stone pillars streaming the yellow daylight into the room. 

“No,” she replied with a raspy tone, leaning against the structure with a groan. “I need you now, here with me.” The loss of her father was fresh, a slice to her bleeding heart. 

When agony did not blind her, Rhaenyra’s mind wandered in her grief, thinking of what would happen in the following moments, days, and years. The realm was teetering on the brink of civil war, and it was only a matter of time before the scales tipped and the dragons danced. 

She looked to you, her daughter, her only daughter, a girl still so young and kind despite experiencing the horrors of life that threatened to pull you into despair. 

Rhaenyra knew in her soul that this child would not survive; it was only a matter of expelling it before it ended her, but you… you were alive. For how long, she wasn’t sure. The thought crept into her mind like the shiver of death’s hand, but right now, you were here with her, devoted and by her side, no matter how pained you to see your mother this way. 

You didn’t leave your mother’s side, not even as she limped from one place to another, using you as your late grandsire did to his cane, wiping the sweat, blood, and birthing fluids that stained her porcelain skin. It felt as if your mother was in this gruesome cycle of sitting, standing, pacing, and squatting as she screamed for the child to leave her womb. 

Rhaenyra thought of her mother as she so often did when it came to birth. She wondered if this was the terror Queen Aemma felt when she realized the babe would not go and that she was doomed. Rhaenyra didn’t want to die, even if it seemed like the world wanted her to. She would not allow this child to be the last of her if not for her living, breathing children who stared at her with concern as they entered her room to spite the traitors who were stealing her birthright. 

Jace and Luke gazed at you and your mother as she doubled over with a bout of pain, quickly squatting as you wiped away a stream of viscous blood that ran down her leg. 

“Mother!” Jace shouted in concern as they stopped at a distance, afraid and uncertain of his mother’s agony.

Your mother heavily panted as she tried to gain the energy to speak. “Your grandfather, King Viserys, is dead,” she exhaled through her teeth. “The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.”

Jace looked at you with wide eyes, understanding what this meant for you, him, and the realm. You gazed back with certainty, speaking without words. “What is to be done about it?” he questioned, ever the eager and dutiful son ready to protect his family.

“Nothing yet,” your mother declared as she gained the energy to continue her pacing cycle.

“And where is Daemon?” Jace interrogated again, anxious gaze flicking between you and your mother. 

You led your mother to rest against your shoulder to distract and take some of the pressure off her contracting limbs as she inhaled a jagged breath. “Gone to madness,” she sniffled, nose buried into the crook of your neck, stroking her stomach. “Gone to plot his war.” 

Your heart broke for her in every possible way, fracturing into tiny little pieces like a shattered mirror of loss, betrayal, and sadness across your slippered feet. Your mother did not deserve this. No one deserved the loss of a child—to have one thing after another stolen in such rapid succession with no one to support her. But you would. You would stay by your mother’s side as her heir and support her claim more steadfastly than any other because that was the right thing to do.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, not just as mother and daughter, but as a woman and girl. A bond that was unbreakable no matter how much it was twisted, bent, and weathered. She loved you. She made you into the woman you are today, one that would create a new order together.

Turning your tear-streaked face to your brother, you spoke without words, commanding him to deal with what you and your mother could not. He curtly nodded as Luke continued to stare with his wide brown eyes.

“Leave Daemon to me,” Jace declared and swiftly made his way to the exit, but your mother called out to him, lifting her head as she repeated. 

“Jacaerys!” 

She could not lose you. Not now, not in several moons’ time when war fully unleashes, and you ride into battle on dragonback. Rhaenyra understood she couldn’t stop her sons from riding as it was their duty as princes and men, but you were her daughter, and daughters did not go to war. At that moment, she decided she would never let you. Despite the hypocrisy that struck Princess Rhaenyra’s conscience, she could not allow you to be in a position that brought you so close to death.

With what little strength she had reserved, your mother separated herself from you as you attempted to reach out in concern. She need not burden herself more, at least not alone and with someone who truly loved her. Another wave of agony washed through your Queen Mother as you watched how her knees buckled, gritting her teeth through the pain as you hooked your arm under hers. 

Her bleary violet eyes met yours, deep and holding thoughts inside them that you could not decipher as she tightened her mouth in pain, gaze now fixed on Jace.

“Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done by my command,” your mother declared, her voice unwavering. 

Time seemed to stand, and Jace and Luke halted their movements abruptly as they stared at the two closest women in their lives with terrified confusion. You felt the life drain from your face, a bleeding heart leaping out of your chest and falling to the stone below. 

She couldn’t mean that. She couldn’t. You were her heir. You were the firstborn, destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms just like her, no matter what others thought. You were to create a new order, a better and just kingdom that reigned in prosperity. This was what you spent your life preparing yourself for. Countless hours of studying history, politics, philosophy, and arithmetic were all meant to prepare you for the best monarch you could be. It was to prove to the Lords of the realm that women were too inferior, that they were too gentle of the heart to rule like a man were wrong. 

And now, as you felt tears not of empathy rise, Rhaenyra Targaryen would prove all of them right. 

“Mother, you can not mean that. I am your heir. The line of succession deems it so,” you stated indignantly, feeling your muscles weaken. 

“I know, my sweet girl, but this is what needs to be done,” she explained, brows furrowing with another contraction as she gathered her words. “You are my daughter… my only daughter, and I cannot lose you to another man’s senseless actions. I know you and what you’ll do. You are not one to stand idly at the hands of injustice, and it shall get you killed.” 

Your world was burning, and the dragons had yet to take the skies. 

“I need your mind with me, by my side as my-” she beseeched, another contraction cutting her words short, “as my council.” 

Your breath was stolen as she spoke, and you felt yourself deflate, your face falling and shoulders hunching. You dropped your arms and stepped away from your mother. 

“You can not mean that, mother. You’re-you’re unwell. The stress of everything has consumed your mind. Do not make any decisions yet. Now is not a time of action. Wait until your body is in good health, and we can reconvene with your council,” you desperately ranted, emotions slowing welling inside of you as you felt yourself clawing your skin.

Your mother shook her head, wiping her sweat-dampened lips as she braced herself against the carved wooden footboard of her bed. “No. My decision is of sound mind and final. You will understand in time that this is what is best for you—for our House.” 

You refused to accept that your mother would reduce you to nothing but another passed daughter, though you were more prepared and deserving than your younger brother, yet lacking only one unobtainable thing. Anger began to replace your defeat, boiling into a rage that spilled over into the venom of your words. 

“You claim to be the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, yet you choose a younger son over the eldest daughter for your legacy. Do you not see your hypocrisy?” you exclaimed, hands waving with every sentence as Jace stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched. Sinkingly, you realized he would not refuse your mother’s decision. “You prove by your actions that the Greens are correct in naming Aegon as king. You claim to be the new rule but desire to be the exception.”

“My girl,” your mother began grunting as she reached for your embrace. Stepping away from her, you crossed your arms, refusing to offer her the comfort she needed when she disregarded yours. “My strong, brave girl, please do not hate me for this. I cannot handle your anger in my time of anguish.” 

Fury crackled with a sinister fire in the hollow cavity of your chest, flames of vengeance licking at the edges of your soul. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you hurriedly brushed them away, desperate to regain some semblance of composure. Your mind was shrouded in a thick fog of rage, and the most treacherous thoughts, words you would never dare to entertain even in your bleakest moments, surged forth, threatening to consume you entirely.

“If you do not want me, perhaps I should return to King’s Landing and bend the knee to my Uncle? I know Alicent would appreciate my value more than my flesh and blood,” you spat, nails digging crescents into your palms.

Your pain made you blind to all rational thoughts. The mere idea of bending the knee to Aegon was repulsive. No matter how distressed you felt, it was an image you couldn’t comprehend. You would instead take your own life than pledge allegiance to your rapist, but that wasn’t the main point. You wanted to hurt your mother in the same way she had hurt you.

“You would never,” she panted, clutching at her bloodied skirt. Your mother’s footing slipped as she fell against the stone floor, crying out in agony and gripping the footboard to channel her pain. 

“No!” you cut her off, shaking your head. “You swore I would be your heir, yet you chose him!”

Jace looked at you in alarm, his face twisted with guilt. “Sister, this isn’t the time-”

“It is exactly the time!” you snapped, stepping back. Jace was just as much to blame, with no refusals for his new title. “I will not stay here and listen to these fallacies.”

Your heart hardened to a chilling frost at her rejection as you disregarded her pain. Though her labor would soon reach its climax, lasting only a few more agonizing hours, the humiliation of being eclipsed by your younger brother would trail you like a dark shadow for the rest of your days. She made you a victim, much like the plight she faced, yet unlike her, there would be no rallying cries or banners raised in your honor.

With a delicate sniffle and a sharp inhalation, you steadied your ragged breath, transforming into the dignified princess the realm demanded you be—the poised princess who sat silently behind the imposing castle walls, gazing wistfully out the grand window of your gilded prison. 

Curtsying, you forced your lips to stretch into a thin smile, willing the hurt to disappear. “I pray your labors are swift and painless. I shall join the rest of the council members and sit and twiddle my thumbs as is your will, my Queen.” 

With no more kindness left, you lifted your skirts, wiping the sweat and blood from your hands as you exited your mother’s bed chambers without a passing glance as she shouted your name. Jace stood there motionless, too stunned to speak, let alone force you to return to her as you strode by. You were still his eldest sibling and held that seniority despite the sudden thrust of a new title. He was not accustomed to giving orders, let alone to his older sister, who was the one who mothered him.

Throwing your brother a look over your shoulder that ordered him to follow you, you trekked down the torch-lit halls to the Council Chambers, where Daemon no doubt was, as your mother’s cries became nothing but muffled noise. Your anger had created a wall around your heart, shielding you from any sympathy for her pain. She certainly had no regard for yours. 

“You need to stay with her,” Jace finally said, mouth syncing with his mind as he slightly jogged to catch up with your swift gait. 

You flashed your twin a sneer in response and flicked your hand in dismissal, continuing your path to Daemon as the sound of male voices grew louder. “I am not the heir. ’Tis not my duty to ensure the survival of the head of our House. I’m but a mere daughter.”

“Do not lose your heart simply because of your anger. It only proves why Mother chose me,” he antagonized, his frustration and pride getting the best of him. 

Without thinking, you spun on him, pushing Jace against the jagged stone as you smacked him across his sharp cheek. “Don’t ever say that again! You will never be as good as me, Jacaerys!” you shouted, finally releasing the fury you held back. “She only chose you because I don’t possess a cock, not because you are a better fit. Don’t ever forget that.” 

You were one soul, one mind, yet different bodies, and no one knew how to hurt someone better than their sibling. Jace had always felt inferior to you for as long as you could remember, no matter how you tried to help him. He never dedicated himself to his studies as much as you did, preferring more to play a pretend knight with Luke. It wasn’t his fault for the skewed priorities; he, too, was under the assumption that you were going to be queen. There was no pertinent reason to impress his studies at the time before yours.

Turning away from Jace, you continued on your path, your conscious an unfeeling stone as you scratched at the hair uncomfortably lying on your scalp. You wanted to claw yourself out of your skin—rip the flesh right off your limbs until there was nothing left but bones. All you wanted was to feel the pain sear your nerves like the hurt you felt on the inside. 

“I’ll fly to the Riverlands myself and affirm Lord Tully’s support,” Daemon’s voice echoed through the halls as you and your twin entered the chamber unannounced. 

The Rogue Prince stood imposingly; your mother’s most trusted advisors circled a table map with tense expressions.

“You will do no such thing,” Jace interjected, shoulders squared as he feigned confidence. “My mother has decreed no action be taken while she’s abed.”

Your stepfather gazed at you under his light brows, purple orbs shifting to Jace and back to you. He seemingly questioned without words as to why your twin was speaking instead of you. His time-worn visage wrinkled in defiance as silence stretched longer than necessary, ignoring Jace. “It’s good you’re here, my young prince. You’re needed to patrol the skies on your dragon.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Jace questioned as he stepped forth. Each Lord standing around the dimly lit Chamber of the Painted Table stared noiselessly, tense eyes sharing worried glances.

“Patrol the skies, my prince. The heir and I must discuss matters of the realm,” Daemon responded. You did not meet his stare as another fresh wave of tears burned your nose and twitched your lips. 

It seemed as if time stood still as your shame was laid bare before the ruling Lords, chin trembling with hurt and embarrassment. The quiet pierced through your gut like a blade, twisting it inside your organs as the men continued their noiseless stares. You felt their confusion soon morphed into pity as Jace stood with his back ramrod straight, only confirming their conclusions when you refused to speak.

“The ravens, Lord Bartimos,” Daemon reminded as your twin wordlessly asked you for assistance. Your mother made her choice, and it was Jace’s responsibility to bear it as you would have. 

Suddenly, your mother’s scream cut through the Lord’s hesitance as his weathered gaze flicked from Jace, you, and Daemon. “I shall see it done,” he nodded, leaving. It was fruitless to argue with the Rogue Prince.

“Summon Ser Steffon. Our kingsguard are needed on the Dragonmont,” your stepfather commanded next as you observed him effortlessly ignore your brother and, by extension, your mother. It took everything within you not to smirk as Jace pleaded for you to back his standing. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the true meaning of loyalty,” Daemon ordered without a glance at you or Jace, walking briskly between the two of you with his palm on the hilt of Dark Sister.

He left no room for discussion, his imposing aura exuding an air of confidence that only a man like him could have. Your interest in what Daemon could be conjuring up inside his mind as a display of “true loyalty” guided your movements as you followed him, not bothering to see if Jace was too. 

Your stepfather guided you through the dim halls of your home and onto the rocky cliffs of Dragonstone, the wind whipping your hair as you stood beside him. Jace was close behind, standing tensely at a distance as his face betrayed a perplexed annoyance before the two Kingsguards. 

The air was cold, causing gooseflesh to rise on your arms as Daemon began to speak. “You swore an oath as knights of the Kingsguard,” he stated, one hand behind his back and the other on his sword. 

“As do all who wear the white cloak, my prince,” Ser Steffon Darklyn replied, his silver helmet tucked underneath his arm as he squinted in the gray afternoon sunlight. 

“To whom?”

You cast a sidelong glance to Daemon, curious about where this was going. Ser Steffon and Lorent Marband were loyal men, Ser Darklyn primarily as he and his ancestors served your House steadfastly. You supposed it wasn’t unwise of Daemon to ensure that the very men who protected you did not turn cloaks, but it did feel a little excessive to make a grand display for you and Jace. 

“I swore first to King Jahaerys, my prince, and then to His Grace, King Viserys, when he succeeded him,” Ser Steffon answered confidently, showing no effect on Daemon’s intimidation. 

“Do you acknowledge the true line of succession?” the Rogue Prince interrogated. Both the knights agreed in unison as Daemon made eye contact with you and then Jace, showing pride that only he could possess as your brother glared at him. 

You felt a sympathetic understanding radiating from your stepfather that you had never seen displayed before. His violet eyes flicked back to you, strands of hair coming loose from your updo as he placed a wordless hand on your shoulder. It took everything within you not to smack his hand away, understanding the importance of showing a powerful united front. Just because you shared the same fate, another disregarded victim in the line of succession, did not mean your hatred of him lessened. 

He breathed in through his nose, attention back to the pair of Kingsguard. “Do you recall whom King Viserys named heir before his death?”

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Ser Steffon answered as Daemon replied with a low sound.

“I’m grateful for your lifelong service to the crown. I’m presenting you with a choice,” Daemon confessed, voicing a soft timbre that made your hair stand on end.

The ground beneath you began to shake, pebbles rolling over the top of your head as the screech of a dragon roared above you. The lithe form of the Blood Wyrm came forth as he snarled and bared his arm-length fangs. Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent Marbrand flinched in fear as Caraxes low rumble vibrated your chest, enormous head coming so close you could smell the dragon and heat radiating from his scales.

“Swear your oath to Rhaenyra as your queen,” Daemon began, briefly looking at you as he sighed deeply. It seemed his following words pained him to say aloud. “To Prince Jacaerys as heir to the Iron Throne. Or if you support the usurper, speak it now, and you will have a clean and honorable death. But if you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to turn your cloaks later… know that you will die screaming.” 

This was power… this was what your mother barred you from, and you would never forgive her for it.

Smoke swirled through the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a shroud and making each breath a struggle. You stood frozen, watching the flames hungrily devour a small fabric bundle no more significant than your forearm, its colors muted and shadows flickering in the firelight. Your family stood by in solemn silence, each person lost in their thoughts, the weight of their grief palpable in the heavy, overcast atmosphere.

The tiny form of your baby sister lay on the makeshift funeral pyre, occupying barely a quarter of the space on the slab. She was so small, so delicate, that it felt wrong, almost surreal, to see her there amidst the crackling flames as the waves of Dragonstone crashed against the rocks.

The maids remarked that Visenya was more monster than human as they exchanged disappointed glances in your direction. Scales lined her back, resembling those of a dragon. This sight reminded you of the ancient texts you had studied about your ancestors, which spoke of stillbirths, not of human origins, every few generations. 

Occasionally, these texts mentioned unusual traits, such as over-calloused skin on certain parts of the infant’s body or the unexpected discovery of a tail akin to that of a snake. However, they often dismissed these occurrences as mere medical anomalies. You had not heard of such conditions affecting other women; they seemed exclusive to those of full-blooded Targaryen descent.

Your family prided themselves on their dragon blood, and perhaps, you thought, it wasn’t such an expression but a piece of their essence woven into your heritage millennia ago. Dragons were too powerful for even that of Targaryens.

This day would forever be etched in the annals of your family’s history, a day marked by sorrow and despair that would cast a long shadow over the years. The echoes of grief would resonate throughout the realm as the weight of this tragedy burdened not only your loved ones but the people you resided with.

Jace instinctively leaned on you for reassurance when feeling the same sadness and dread as the rest of you. It was part of your shared nature to seek solace in one another, but something inside you had broken. Your deep-seated love for your twin had fractured under the weight of greed, death, and duty, leaving you despondent to his affections. 

Gently moving Jace away from your body, you slinked to the other side of your family where Rhaenys stood. A woman who held such distaste for you was more comforting than the brother you shared the womb with. He had Baela now to hear his worries and dry his tears, and you… had no one. No longer your twin and no longer Aemond. It was your destiny to be aggrieved. 

You suppose you were the only one the Seven saw fit to handle such agony repeatedly, meant to bend and stretch but never break, though you felt moments away from it. 

One by one, heads turned to something you could not see behind you, but you didn’t care, stares trained forward to where your little sister’s body smoldered. Suddenly, a Kingsguard you didn’t recognize came into view. A brown satchel slung over his shoulder, and he continued to walk atop the grassy hill to where your mother and Daemon were. Your mother’s guards quickly readied their swords, blocking the knight from getting closer. 

“I mean you no harm, brothers,” the man said, removing his helmet as the men hesitantly lowered their blades.

They allowed him to continue, taking the bag from his shoulder. He kneeled before your mother and revealed the item he carried—the golden crown of her father and the Old King Jaehaerys. The metal glimmered with a history of power and legacy, and the knight swore an oath before your mother, who gazed at the unexpected gift with wide, astonished eyes.

“I swear to ward the queen with all my strength, to give my life for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

His sincere vows resonated within you, expressing a devotion you could only dream of. This man risked his life and traveled across the water to ensure that your mother received the crown that belonged to her father and grandfather. With unwavering resolve, he pledged his life to her service, his words a promise steeped in loyalty and love.

If he made it, could Aemond? 

Reality shattered your fleeting hope, scattering it like feathers. Even if he had been allowed to escape and pursue the proposal, deep down, you understood that his loyalty, much like your own, would remain immutable, unmoved by the wistful echoes of childhood dreams of love. 

Daemon took the crown from the knight, gazing at it and contemplating its significance and the power it would bring. He turned to your mother, and they shared a moment you couldn’t perceive from your distance. He placed the crown atop her silver hair while the wind gently caressed her loose strands as Daemon knelt before her. The crowd followed suit, with every court member, guard, brother, and cousin bowing before their Queen. The scene before you showcased the power your mother would now wield, which she rightfully deserved over the entire realm if not for the Greens, her piercing amethyst eyes locking onto yours.

You wished to show her your wrath, refusing to bow despite the sternness in her face. The crown emboldened her as she refused to move her gaze away from yours. As you stared longer, vision traveling to that of your stepfather, you realized that no matter what outrage you held, no matter how unfair and hypocritical she was, she was still your mother. 

And you still loved her.

The ground was cold and damp beneath your navy dress, so swarthy it seemed black as you knelt, your funeral veil covering your cold cheeks. With your mother at the helm, there was still hope for a future with little bloodshed. Your love was strong; despite everything, you would give your life for hers if the situation arose. Yet still, you would never forget her decision or forgive her as the sun set over the sea.

Masterlist of Series

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Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf, @nessjo, @fiction-fanfic-reader, @qvnthesia, @hotvillianapologist, @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest, @readerselegance, @gothamgurl2024, @aleemendoza2425-blog, @vaylint, @ln8118, @prettyduckling22, @primroseluna, @baybaybear1

Sooooo... how are we feeling after this? Did you see that plot twist, or were you surprised by Rhaenyra's actions? I grappled with whether this would be out of Rhaenyra's character. Still, in my head, based on how she treated Rhaena and Jace in season 2, I believe Rhaenyra would pass over her daughter, especially after losing her only girl.

I understand the reasoning behind thinking she wouldn't choose a son over a daughter, but if you look back on season 1 and how she treated Alicent when she was married to Viserys (stuck inside a castle and forced to squeeze out heirs scene), you'll see how she doesn't realize the insensitivity of her words to Alicent. In my head, too, I believe Rhaenyra has "only child syndrome" with desiring to be the only "special one," even if it's subconscious. That's just my head cannon.

Thank you for reading!

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day eleven: good night

ᰔ pairing: general marcus acacius x reader

ᰔ summary: it's late, and you can't remember the last time marcus had come to bed. will one last plea work?

ᰔ author's note: another short and hurt-sweet one!!! also, i finally made a masterlist for this series!!! check it out here :) thank you to everyone who reads these, i love and appreciate you all!

ᰔ content warning: general acacius being good at his job, emotional and physical absence, sad-ish with a happy ending, non-descript reader

"Marcus, are you in here?" Your voice was soft as you pushed the door to the study in. You hadn't heard any voices, but the candlelight that came from beneath the doorway gave you a hint.

As of late, Marcus has thrown himself into the next battle strategy that he had been ordered to execute. It had consumed his thoughts and his time, even as you two lay in bed.

You had noticed the distant look in his eyes. Even with his food, he shifted it around the plate as if they were tiny soldiers fighting on the field. No matter what you did, he was too engrossed in the impending doom that came with conquest.

"Yes, my love." His voice sounded so distant, despite only the few feet that separated the two of you. It made your stomach knot with worry.

"It is getting late." You stepped further into the study, already donned in your nightgown. You had been ready to retire to your bed long ago, but it felt odd to sleep on your own. Not when you knew your source of comfort was across the domus, instead of an ocean away.

"I'll be in bed soon," Marcus shook his head. He didn't look up from the map, his eyes fixated on the battleships in front of him. You watched him, the way he worried as he bit his lower lip.

When you two courted, Marcus was upfront about what his job entailed as a general. The long nights, his rough exterior when he returned from war, the possibility that he may not return one day. You took it in stride, but there were moments that you found weakness in yourself. Your worry for him got the better of you sometimes.

The general worried for everyone else— who worried for him?

You sighed softly as you took a few steps towards the desk. Carefully, you reached across the table to rest your hand on Marcus's. You took no offense when he flinched, as it had been his nature since the day you two had met.

"I miss you," you admitted. "The bed feels so lonely without your arms around me."

It had been a week since Marcus had last held you. He either came to bed well after you had fallen asleep, or stared at a map as he laid beside you. The candle lit by the bed didn't bother you; what kept you up was the fate of Rome and its conquests wedged between yourself and your husband.

Marcus finally looked up. You found him to be so handsome despite how tired he looked. You prayed to any god who would listen that one day, the two of you would live a peaceful life in his retirement. If he saw that day, you would do everything in your power to keep him at ease.

"My love," Marcus sighed. He moved your hand to his lips and pressed a long kiss to the back of it. Even after his lips had moved away, he squeezed your hand.

You took his hesitation for your answer. It felt like a dull kick to the stomach. Tried as you might, you were unable to hide your disappointment. Before he continued, you pulled your hand back.

"Try to get some rest. Please." You leaned over the map and held the sides of Marcus's head, your hands ran through his thick curls as you kissed his hairline. His hand ghosted over your side, but you were gone with a flourish of your robe.

As you walked back to your room, you wiped at your cheek. You knew what came with a marriage like this. What came with loving a man like Marcus Acacius. He loved you, and he wanted a great city for you and the future you had together. The weight of it all sat on his shoulders, in his mind when he wasn't fighting for it.

You left the bedroom door open a crack, and removed your robe. The candle on Marcus's bedside was lit before you finally crawled under the bedding. Your tears had finally tapered off, but there was still an ache in your chest that you feared would linger for the rest of the night.

The bed felt so empty, so cold. You rolled over to look at the spot where your lover belonged, yet you were met with an empty space. After a deep breath, you rolled back to face the doorway.

To your surprise, Marcus had slipped in quietly. His eyes met yours when he heard you roll over. Regret had been clearly evident on his face. He had begun to remove his leathers, left in his tunic.

"I hadn't realized the sun had set," Marcus said as he changed. Once in his night attire, he climbed into the bed. Before you moved, his arm wrapped around you and dragged you across the expanse of the bed.

You knew that wasn't the truth, but you said nothing of it. That ache in your chest had disappeared, replaced by a warmth that had blossomed. Finally, you were in the spot you had missed terribly. Strong arms kept you pressed against the man you had loved so deeply.

"I am just happy to lay beside you again," you hummed. There was no reason to harp on Marcus and his regrets. What good did it do, dragging out a problem that would never be solved?

"As am I."

Marcus reached a hand over to snuff out the candle beside him. The only light in the room was the moon, her bright beam illuminated the space. He glanced at you as he took in your peaceful demeanor.

Too wrapped up in what lie ahead, he had failed to realize what his mental absence had done to you. The look in your eyes while in the office was like a slap to the face. He had failed you, had abandoned you all while a few feet from you.

He swore he would never be that man. If he lost you, what did he fight for? What hope was he going to cling to if you had slipped through his fingers?

Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and tightened his grip around you. There was a long beat of silence.

"Good night, my love."

You smiled and turned your head back to kiss him.

"Good night."

For the first time in a week, you had both slept through the night.

[eyothings]

So out of nowhere this december, i've been hit with nostalgia and decided it was time to rewatch Buffy The Vampire Slayer's entire series after the last time it aired on tv, meaning 20 years ago.

Not only it shaped a whole side of my lil sister personality, it is also the favorite show of one of my cousin and closest friends.

And considering the state i'm in after finishing season 7, i know for sure Spike is the origin of my utter love for anti-heros, England and ennemies-to-lovers trope.

He is one of those characters that stay with you forever.

C'mon look at him, LO_OK.

I had very few memories of the show, only some big moments: Angel leaving for a spinoff, Spike ♥, Dark Willow, Spuffy - Basically I remembered almost nothing.

The first season set the tone for me, i forgot the serie was very funny, and what worked right away was the simple fact that they didn't act seriously either, the actors looked like they just had fun. On top of that, even if i already knew that, the show is very feminist and advanced for its time.

I also forgot how much of an asshole Xander is. lol

The worst season for me is clearly season 4, and between you and me, and me and you, it's unsurprisingly because of Riley and the army.

The best season is obviously season 6, and not only for Spike and Spuffy but for Buffy's whole personality.

I have so much to say about the show really, but I'll stay focused and talk about the two ships: Bangel and Spuffy (and a bit of Riley). Note that it is purely my point of view, based on what i like to see and read in fiction and how I perceive the characters, there is clearly a big difference compared to real life. As well as any "bitch" mentioned here is only affectionate. And if you're crazy enough to read the entire post, I apologise in advance for the many mistakes in my writing, as English is not my mother tongue.

The moment i'm writing this VERY long ass post, I've only just started to watch Angel the series for the first time and I've only seen the first season, so my thoughts on him may change in the future, but I don't think my pov on the ships will. I am also aware of some events in seasons 8 to 12 (comics).

• Bangel:

To be honest I liked their love story more when Angel was Angelus.

First, them falling in love never really clicked, I guess they played the love at first sight trope, but she was 15 and he was 200; at that age, any man who was pretty enough and a bit dark would've worked for her. (I won't talk about a 26 y/o man falling in love with a 15 y/o teenager, the man is from 1727, at this point it's not even the same culture okay??)

I thought I'd still give it a chance and root for them, even if I was fully aware of him leaving and Spike would be the new romance (I FORGOT THE WASTE OF TIME WITH RILEY), because they actually talked about all the issues, they knew something was off with their love story but they couldn't stop.

I have not much to say about the nature of their love, it was a cute romance at best, but the more they went further the cringier it'd get, I still have trauma about their kiss noises, no kidding.

They slept together and Angel becomes Angelus, which is supposed to be sad and add some angst, but Angelus was so charismatic, I didn't care about Angel anymore.

And what can I say? I think the soul vs no soul aspect played kinda badly, they all said that Angelus was incapable of love since he had no soul, but we had the concrete proof that love was possible thanks to Spike & Drusilla to begin with ??

I was hoping that, since they sold us their love as super powerful and intense, Angelus would end up falling in love with Buffy, especially after the episode in which both are possessed by ghosts in season 2 episode 19 - I Only Have Eyes for You - which is my favorite moment between them:

but NO, Angelus cannot love, and only Angel can:

It's either we get the flavored guy but no romance or the bland one with a half romance.

Talk about the greatest love story there.

And the whole season 3 is Angel and Buffy having a teen romance:

"Let's just hold hands and kiss but nothing else"

Of course I guess this kind of love story is possible, but it is made clear they both feel the sexual tension each time they kiss, they even dream of doing it. So the only thing that comes of it, is frustrating feelings, for Buffy, for Angel and for us watching them going nowhere.

The hottest moment they have is when Angel bites her to survive.

Surely for a love story that is sold to be so grand, I expected Angel to find a cure for the curse? And fight for his love or something?

♫ Nope, he just leaves. ♫

♫ Bitch talks about fighting for what is worth and bails out at the first difficulty. ♫

i cannot even blame Joyce here, she made the right call, for real. Mother knows best, but he had the chance to prove her wrong.

And in parallel to that we are introduced to Spike, a vampire with no soul who is one hundred times worth Angel, just by existing.

And there is so much to say, whether or not Spuffy was intended, whether or not Angel is supposed to be the love of Buffy's life; After reaching seven seasons, I can guarantee without any hesitation, that Spike is the one, there is no contest.

I can't, for the life of me, believe one second that Joss Whedon and the rest of the team wrote the enemies to lovers story of the last two decades without doing it on purpose? They were so much into Angel, to realize what was happening?

They sold me Angel and Buffy being the "forever love", and, in a way, they are, but only because they cling to the "what could've been".

Of course they will always be attracted to each other until they really try. They'll always idealise their love story and fill the plotholes with their imagination. But it is dramatically bound to end in disaster.

And no, Buffy, I cannot take you seriously when you say "I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life" ; You were a teenager, it is normal to feel more deeply when you're 16, but that doesn't mean anything, and you know it too well.

Angel left her broken, unable to trust anyone, unable to trust herself and alone: If the love of her life doesn't want to be with her, then who will? (♫ We have an idea ♫ )

Soul or not, he has been a coward, with no intent to get to know Buffy, her family, her friends. He decided what was best for her without asking her.

All he does after that, is coming back into Buffy's life at the worst moments to be jealous.

♫ He is that toxic boyfriend who comes back with puppy eyes each time you try to move on. ♫

Every time he appears in an episode it's to disappoint even more: I was rooting for him, I even missed him A LOT in season 4 !

And, sure, meanwhile, the dance between Spike and Buffy was already ongoing since season 2, but we really didn't have any concrete scenes between them that could seal the ship for good (them under Willow's spell in season 4 doesn't count). So the best option at that moment was the hope for Angel to come back.

Buffy never really had the chance to move on from Angel because of Riley and his insecurities, but also because Angel cannot seem to move on, while moving on at the same time ? ! ? ♫ Bitch has a child ♫

The moment Angel left the show, it should have been for good. (Note aside, I'm still having a hard time believing the character had his own spinoff because of his popularity, when we barely saw him hanging around in the first 3 seasons, wouldn't have it been simpler for him to stay and have more scenes, like Spike?) • Riley & Buffy (Briley??)

And so Angel never came back, and we got Riley instead. He was the perfect choice to make the bridge between Bangel and Spuffy. She needed to experience a "normal" romance, with a "normal guy" to know what it's like and to understand what she really wants, but one season and a half was way too much. ♫ I ended up googling " WHEN is Riley LEAVING? "♫ The moment Buffy said she held back her strength when training with him, was enough to see what was coming.

Riley was nothing else than just an army guy under steroids who couldn't even handle his girlfriend being stronger than him.

Him blaming Buffy for not really being around when her mother was dying was the cherry on top of the loser's behavior.

Buffy needed someone with whom she could be 100% herself, an equal, and Riley knew he wasn't half of that; so he made her pay? By cheating on her and leaving? Then coming back a year later to brag about his wedding? Lmao give me a break Riloser.

So now Buffy is alone AGAIN, both men she thought she loved, left without looking back. ♫ Over my shouuulder ♫

And from those two relationships, we can already see what she needs in a romance:

- An emotionally available man - That can be there for her without pushing her - Someone who doesn't flee the second he encounters the smallest difficulty - A man strong enough for her to unleash the full force without being afraid of hurting him ♫ yes i'm talking about sex ♫ - Someone who understands her role as the slayer and her crazy life - Someone selfless capable of protecting her family and friends - Someone she can trust.

♫ And now, ladies and gentlemen, lets welcome ♫

• Spuffy:

Ok first a bit of context here: I disagree about people criticizing Buffy season 6 Lets just understand whats going on: Bitch sacrifices herself to save the world and her sister; at that moment, she feels peace for the first time in her life, for the first time she is not afraid to die and fulfill her destiny by choice. She has an heroic death, ends up resting in paradise...

♫ Then her friends who can't handle to live without her, decide to bring her back to life. ♫

Not only she comes back to life in her fucking coffin, she also: - Has to crawl to the surface (almost dying stupidly) - Has to act as if nothing happened - Has to be the slayer again - Cannot even go back to university - Has even less prospect for a normal life - She is poor - She needs to find money (ends up working in a fast food) - Has to thanks her friends for bringing her back to the life she never wanted - Is being blamed for not really being around.

♫ I WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING PISSED YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE ♫

So what? She comes back, feels different, depressed, alone AGAIN and figuratively chained to a life she still doesn't want, and the only person who does understand what she is going through is Spike. Spike who has been here for her family and friends the whole time she was dead, meaning, he did it because he wanted to, because he felt genuine pleasure in hanging out with them while keeping his promise to protect Dawn.

He could have left, but never did, even though his love was one-sided, he loved her so much he stayed.

♫ Death couldn't do them apart ♫

He has been a father figure for Dawn, but not only that, Spike was also the only vampire Joyce liked and trusted, a presence she didn't mind in her home without Buffy around.

And Spike did love Joyce very much ♥

And I have so much to say about Spike, he is that multi-flavored character with so many layers, who stays interesting with or without a soul. He is a slayer's killer, seen as one of the most dangerous vampires, that anyone should be scared to be around, he has so much confidence in himself, he doesn't even mind being so freaking pathetic when it comes to love.

He is not even afraid nor ashamed to show his affection, to be vulnerable, to be open about it, and most of it, he just embraces it without a care of the outcome, he is just living by the day, knowing perfectly that everything could stop at any moment. Though, that being said, i'm still well aware Spike has also MANY flaws, all he does is mainly driven by love but it is still extreme and twisted due to his soulless condition. I really don't know where to start, because i feel like Buffy and Spike's destinies are intertwined - They are a mirror to each other. Buffy's behavior has anything to do with Spike, as Spike's behavior has anything to do with Buffy - it is really like watching a dance.

Spike allows her to embrace and explore the darkest part of herself - She was always the perfect girl everyone expected her to be.

She needed to do good, to BE good, but what if she, for once, chose the other side? Of course she never went as far as Faith did, but she allowed herself to fall into a forbidden romance, and to go against everyone's expectations, because she only felt something when she was with him. And i loved this part of her, because to me, she finally has flaws! I mean, she always had some but not to that extent. And maybe, maybe being like this, was a way for her to never fall completely into the darkness nor into Spike's influence.

Maybe she was in an inner battle between good and bad.

Maybe it was an unconscious way to either push him away, or test him to see if he will ever leave her. Abusive or not towards Spike, let's not forget that he is still William the bloody, and the only thing that stops him from killing anyone is the chip in his brain. We're still talking about the guy who would have easily killed Willow if he had the chance, the one Buffy wouldn't trust at all without that said chip.

Even though Spike has done TREMENDOUS good deeds with the scoobies, he is still a slave to his primary emotions.

Don't get me wrong, this is why i love Spike SO MUCH, his duality as a soulless vampire is everything. The man can talk to you about his favorite romantic show and a minute later kill someone in cold blood and find a great pleasure in both.

♫ Anyway ♫

Above all things, they are in love, and this love is extremely intense, deep, powerful, unbearable and terrible.

Thanks to Tara, Buffy realizes she did not come back as any different as before she died and realizes the horrors she has committed to Spike by treating him like a monster he never trully was.

Buffy ends up admitting her wrongs and grows out of her darkness and chooses to be good and to end her relationship with Spike. And she is glowing and glimming, and she's not his anymore.

Which leads Spike to end up doing something awful.

And what does he do after that??

He leaves the city...

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ TO FIX HIMSELF ♫ ♫ ♫

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in the year 2002, and yes you read me well:

THE BAD GUY GOES TO FIX HIMSELF TO BE WORTHY OF THE GIRL

♫ William the bloody risked his fucking life in a trial to get back his soul ♫

She doesn't fix him, he does it on his own because he knows something must be done to repair his wrongs, that his love needs to be purified of his monstrous side to be a better man and stand at her side.

And even though she doesn't know that, she is still looking for him, even after what he has done, she is always drawn to him, she always wants to be around him.

Then she learns he got his spark back for her and she does everything in her power to keep him by her side.

Because now it is time for Spike to embrace the brightest part of himself thanks to Buffy.

I love them so much, especially in season 7 because they don't even have to act romantically to show how deep their love is for each other. How simple it has become, how instinctive their complicity is. They know how to complement each other, it is almost symbiotic.

They are clearly not ready to be together again until they really sort things out but Spike has seen the best and the worst parts of her, and is still hers entirely, and will always be.

As much as Buffy has seen the best and worst parts of him, and she still trusts and loves him to the point of asking the initiative to remove the chip in his brain. ♫ On top of desperately not wanting him to die ♫ Also, without knowing it yet, she is entirely his and will always be.

Buffy sees Spike’s worth, and Spike sees Buffy’s, even when neither of them can see their own.

They lift each other up, and become an unbreakable force, to the point that no one can split them.

And this is one of my favorite parts of Spuffy, in season 7:

Before, she would never have let Spike kill a human, not even out of revenge. But now, she’s willing to let his shadow take over if it means keeping him alive, just as he learns to hold it back. To me, episode 17 - Lies My Parents Told Me - marks how far their connection has grown: Buffy running as fast as she can to save Spike Spike's past with his mother, helping him make peace with some of it, as part of his ongoing redemption arc ♫ it broke my heart ♫ Spike coming back to his senses to beat the shit out of Robin, and giving him a last chance Buffy telling Robin she'll let Spike kill him next time he even tries to harm Spike Buffy choosing Spike over Giles Buffy choosing Spike over the "common sense" Buffy choosing love over her duty (even if she pretends otherwise) ♫ Buffy, you cannot fool Spike, but you cannot fool us either! ♫

And i love this parallel with the end of season 2 when she had to choose duty over love and kill Angel. This is Buffy allowing herself to be a bit more selfish while Spike is allowing himself to be a bit more selfless.

And then in the middle of the biggest battle of her life, she is overthrown over shitty excuses ♫ i have a LOT to say about the Scoobies but that post is insanely long to add some salt ♫ and who is the one that still has her back? Spike. Spike has always been unconditionally here for her and never let her down, which even the Scoobies didn't always do.

Spike is the one who delivers the most selfless and beautiful love declaration of the whole show, to her. When she needs it the most, because he is the only one who can see her.

And his love is what gives strength to Buffy to trust herself and pursue her goal. He is the one who brings back the light in Buffy, who pushes her to live and accept her fate as being the one.

And talking about light,

♫ What a freakin' poetry to have centered Spike's whole redemption arc around it ♫

He was always pursuing that light, whether in Cecily when he was a human or Buffy as a vampire. All he had to do was bring the light into him and embrace his humanity to fulfill his redemption. And so he makes the ultimate sacrifice, And he glows. Not only he saves the world willingly and selflessly but he also gives back the fire inside Buffy, frees her from Sunnydale and her role as the sole slayer.

♫ "I love you" - "Spike" are the last words Buffy says in the show ♫ • Conclusion A freaking long ass post only to say that to me, Spuffy is very well written as enemies to lovers, thanks to Jane Espenson, Douglas Petrie & Marti Noxon. Though i think Spike still suffers some injustices, but I'm glad he got the respect he deserves in the comics, (which i consider canon) : Not only does Spike end up as part of the Scoobies but also with Buffy, and he is the only one with whom she fights for their relationship to last. ♫ And they're endgame in season 12 ♫ (Thank you Christos Gage)

I also think JW made many mistakes for Bangel to work: I know he was kinda annoyed by Spike's popularity at first and wanted Angel to be seen as the main vampire of the franchise, which led him to give Angel his own spinoff, but by doing that, he also broke the link between Buffy and Angel. Which ultimately led Spike to have a more organic evolution with her instead of Angel. They both had their own paths in their own separate worlds, which forced JW to accept Spuffy as being the logical conclusion. Just as Cordelia was also the best choice for Angel to grow and be more open about his emotions. Claiming in interviews that Angel is the love of Buffy's life without ever demonstrating it concretely in any of the media itself makes this statement fall flat. I do not hate Bangel, I think the ship was necessary for Buffy to grow, but i do see more Angel as her first idealised and tragic love, while with Spike, it is more grounded, mature and based on mutual respect, trust, acceptation and stability.

♫ Angel should have stayed and Spike and Drusilla should have had their own spinoff, and i'd have paid to see that. ♫ • My pov on Sprusilla?

Literally nothing to say about them, they match each other freak to a level no one can ever comprehend.

♫ They are a perfect match and untouchable. ♫ ♫ May they end up together again and last for eternity. ♫

♫ With animals. ♫ (alive)

[gingerteawrites]

Babysitter - Geto Suguru

A/N: One of my lovely friends mentioned this idea in passing and I have NOT been able to stop thinking about it. So enjoy reading my brainrot lol. Definitely the start of a series hehe.

Content: geto suguru x female reader, dad!Geto, college student reader, non jujutsu au, angst, fluff.

Divider by: @k1ssyoursister

School be damned, the economy be damned. In fact, the entire world be damned. Making ends meet these days was becoming an achievement. And your little college student pockets hurt (more accurately, they were utterly and desperately empty).

You had applied for every open position you came across; on-campus, barista at your local cafes, server at that one sketchy bar and even dog walker but nothing seemed to last. Interviews went awry, creepy bosses drove you to the end of your wit and bad pay was routine. You sighed, beyond exasperated as you flopped onto your tiny twin bed.

Selling feet pics was starting to look a little too enticing of an option.

You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your email inbox, hoping to see something positive from any of the positions you had recently applied for.

**ding**

The pop-up of a notification draws your attention away from the endless emails --mostly unanswered-- and you open the text.

[girly I think I found you a job]

You immediately sit up, the words from Kugisaki leading fresh hope to bloom in your heart. Your fingers tap quickly across your keyboard.

[wait fr?? istg if you're playing with me]

[if you think i'm lying then i won't tell you what it is anymore]

[no, no come back] you send a string of crying emojis, imagining the smirk on her face before the typing bubbles reappear on your screen.

[since you asked so nicely! Babysitting job. A guest lecturer for one of my classes. Really chill dude]

You sighed, shoulders drooping as soon as your brain registered the message. You were about to turn your screen off when the bubble appeared again.

[I know you don't like babysitting jobs, but give this one a try okay? Plus the guy pays really well] attached was an email address, certainly that of the one looking to hire.

[Thank u, I really appreciate it <3] you typed back, flopping back onto your bed.

Your sighed again, and closed your eyes. It was so cold. Your town had been victim to a series of winter storms. Even nature seemed done with the world's shit. But the prospect of having to deal with another high electricity bill if you turned the heat any higher led you to your closet, grabbing one of your thicker hoodies instead.

You should be grateful. You muttered to yourself, heading to the bathroom and splashing water on your tired face. Financial aid covers tuition, and you are not homeless. You turned the faucet off, watching the heavy bags in your reflection. The person in the mirror looked so tired, life slowly drawn out of her. You should be grateful. The mantra had long lost its desired revitalizing effects but you kept at it regardless. Repeating it to yourself incessantly.

Somehow you managed to find leftover takeout in your tiny fridge, eating your dinner to the sound of your old radiator using the last of its life to barely warm the place. You sighed again, eyeing the email address your friend had sent you. She wouldn't recommend someone untrustworthy. She would never put you in harm's way.

Resigned, you drafted an email. The usual pleasantries, introduction and intent for the position. As soon as you clicked the send button, you pushed your phone away. It didn't matter. The person would probably ghost you anyway.

And then, you really would have to look into feet pic selling forums.

He had replied. In record time actually, only a few hours after you sent your email. Your eyes scanned over the words of the email again, in partial disbelief.

[Thank you for your interest. An interview with me and my girls is all I need to see if we would be a good fit. Please let me know your earliest availability]

Straight to the point and maybe a bit dry, but it was much better than most of what you had been getting. You chewed on your bottom lip, deep in thought.

Being in a strange man's house for extended periods of time was still unsettling.

You should be grateful for the opportunity. Are you really going to let your trauma get in the way. Stop acting so weak.

A reply was typed in before you could psych yourself out, sighing as you put your phone down. He better pay as well as Kugisaki promised. Well, you would find out soon anyway.

What kind of people were Geto Suguru and his daughters... If this job would finally allow you some respite. A hint of stability in these tumultuous times.

Trying to get myself out of a writing rut ughhh. I hope you enjoyed this one though, I'm really excited about starting another series. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[buggs-and-beasts]

Sunshine in the Storm (p1)

Summary: For decades her hands have been the only ones to bring him comfort. She’s the only person who’s ever treated him like a person, of course she’d be the person to pull him away from Hydra and stitch him back together.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female OC/Reader

Chapter Warnings: mentions of Canon-typical physical violence and torture, implied abuse, descriptions of physical injuries, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1433

Note! - I'm finally posting some writing! I hope you enjoy it and I'll try to add more parts fairly frequently. FYI, I intend for things to get a bit darker as the story goes along so be sure to check each chapters specific warnings before reading.

Also thank you to @vunblr for their recently finished Toy Soldier series which inspired me to write about an OC/Reader with healing powers!

Anywhere but Here

He’s not sure where he’s going.

Well, he’s not sure who he is so maybe he has bigger problems than where he’s headed. Honestly, there’s only one thing he does know and that is that he failed his mission.

He knows that that man, Captain America, his target, was alive when he left him. Bleeding, injured but alive. He’d made sure of that, he’s pulled the man from the water, pushed the water from his lungs. Hell, he’d called the ambulance just to be sure it got there in time.

He wasn’t sure what it meant, to fail a mission.

He can’t remember any other missions, but he’s confident there have been many. He’s searching through the disorganized snipets of his broken memories but he can’t find anything to suggest he’s ever failed a mission before.

What would failing mean?

It’s impossible for him to tell how long he’s been walking, but his steps are slowing now, quietly leading him down the driveway of a familiar house.

—

She’s not sure where she’s going.

Anywhere but here.

That thought keeps running through her head, like it has been since she watched the helicarriers crash into the Potomac on the news. She was almost ready to follow that instinct now, a backpack full of all the cash, medical supplies, and food she could scavenge swung onto her shoulder. Her hands are shaking as she tightens shoes far too big for her onto her feet. She’s pulling one of Alex’s jackets off a hook by the garage door when she hears it, a quiet crash.

She curses under her breath, stalking over to the fireplace to grab a poker.

Slow, cautious steps take her closer to the sound, muscles tense in preparation for whatever she finds. Whatever or whoever it is, they’re in the dining room. A chill runs through her, her cheeks flushing, chest heaving, poker held back and ready to swing any moment.

She peaks around the corner, relief spreading through her at the familiar sight. It’s a man, tall and bulky, with shoulder length dark brown hair in dark tactical gear.

James.

She lowers the poker, setting it leaning against the wall. There’s no need to fear him. He won’t hurt her, not while Alex is gone.

“Soldier?” Her heart aches to call him that but its the safest option. He doesn’t react when he notices her, he just walks closer, stopping only a foot and a half in front of her. He’s drenched and bloody, blankly reporting back, acting on protocols he can’t even recall. His right arm holds a gun. He raises it, arm extended, barrel pointed at his own chest.

He’s offering it to her, just like he usually offered it to Alex.

She closes the gap, reaching for his other hand, fingers interlocking with cold metal. Tears shine down his face in the dark room.

“I failed.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard his voice. It froze through her. “I failed the mission.”

“I’m running.” The words surprise her as much as they surprise him. “You could come with me,” she shifts, pulling the backpack further onto her shoulder, “if you want.”

“Where?” His voice is scratchy and raw with disuse, but she’d listen to it for hours if he’d let her.

“Away from the capital. There’s a big bus station a couple hours away. From there, anywhere.” She sighs, “Only problem is I can’t find his keys.”

“I can hotwire it.” He doesn’t know where or when he learned it, only that he did.

She smiles, then falters. Her hand is reaching out to brush his bloodied cheek.

“You’re hurt. Can I see?” His nod is small. Without a thought, she brushes the hair from his face and inhales deeply, activating something deep inside herself.

The first thing she notices is a dizzy, muddled fog. The headache starts small but builds on itself, every part of her is aching and throbbing. Her ribs hurt with each breath, each movement. The headache is only getting worse. It’s painful, uncomfortable, exhausting but nothing deadly.

Still, it’s better for her to carry it than him.

A soft hum stems from her chest, a habit she’d taken to over the years to push through the suffering. She takes his hand again, leading him slowly to the garage door and guiding another one of Alex’s jackets onto his shoulders. Before she knows it they’re in the car and its sputtering to life with his practiced movements. All she can think as they pull out of the garage is how much easier this all feels with him at her side. It makes her wonder if she could’ve done it without him, if she could’ve left him.

She’s so grateful she doesn’t need to find out.

—

There’s something disorienting about how much better her presence makes him feel, how the dizzy fog and throbbing, aching pain seem to disappear when she touches him. He tries not to stare, some part of him vaguely aware that his handler’s don’t like it when he stares, but he can’t stop himself.

She’s in a thin black dress, a large jacket surrounding her as she carefully drives them away from the house. He watches her while the sun begins to set, taking in every detail of her. He’s stuck in the long blonde hair pulled back with a thin black ribbon and the dark knowing eyes watching the road.

He wants to ignore the finer details but he can’t.

He can’t ignore the cuts, the dark circles under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks. Deep red bruises wrap around her everywhere a hand could grab, her neck and arms and legs.

His stomach turns as the memories of Alexander Pierce grabbing her, fingertips burying into her skin as he tossed her into the wall, cloud his mind. He can practically hear her crash against the brick, her usually so gentle voice cracking as she begged and cried and pleaded for mercy.

All while he just watched.

“James?” Neither of them had spoken for hours. The last stray rays of sunlight are fading and the car is stopped, tucked away in a sparse forest. “Soldier?”

His eyes skip over to hers, falling endlessly into their depth. She smiles at him, the gesture piercing deeper than bullets or knives ever could.

“We’re just a mile from a large bus station just outside New York,” with a nod he shifts to unbuckle himself but a soft hand on his stops him from opening the passenger side door. “They’ll be looking for you tonight,” he can’t decide who she means by they, he can’t even place all the options in his head. “Let’s rest here, we’re far enough away that we can wait to ditch the car until morning.”

Nothing happens for a moment, a long moment, then he realizes she’s waiting for him. She wants him to respond. He nods again, curt but it satisfies her enough to fiddle with the controls for her chair.

It collapses back. She yelps. Then laughs.

It’s warm, sweet and dripping like a spoonful of honey stirred into hot tea, light as a cloud but still slamming into him. He watches her crawl into the backseat, glancing away as she passes him so as to not give her short skirt the opportunity to expose her. He turns back when he hears her settle into the leather.

“There’s more space back here.” She pats the seat next to her, those dark eyes watching him struggle to crawl through the cramped car. He’s sitting next to her again, except back here there’s no console to separate them.

He doesn’t think, just moves.

“Oh.” Her voice is soft, surprised but not upset. He’s in the middle seat now, pressing his side into hers. “Are you cold?” He shakes his head, nuzzling just a bit into her. Even through all his layers he can feel her warmth, her comfort oozing into him. It’s addictive, unfamiliar in the best way.

It’s like she can hear his thoughts, her bare finger running up his spine and into his hair.

“Rest.” She’s guiding him down so his head rests in her lap, fingertips rubbing slow circles on his scalp. “I’ve got you.”

His eyelids are immediately heavy. An exhaustion he didn’t realize he’d been carrying crashes into him like a wave, pulling him under. He closes his eyes, focused on the feel of her hands in his hair and the sound of her gentle humming, until even those things are slipping from him and he’s drifting into a peaceful nothingness.

[welcome-home-official]

Hollow Fields fandom is basically dead.

[kitsunesakii]

Two is Better than one

I went wild with this one :D

Chapter six

Sasha entered her apartment with the quiet click of the front door. She tossed her backpack onto the chair in the kitchen and started a cup of tea. A clatter from the adjacent room caught her attention. She frowned slightly before peeking her head into the other room.

It took her a moment to process the scene before her eyes.

Micheal was sitting on her living room floor, long fingers carefully curling through the fur of a content cat purring below him. She noted a secondary feline to the left, pawing at a strand of long spindly blonde hair. He glanced at her lazily, tipping his head to the side and humming.

There was only one thing wrong with this picture. Sasha didn't own pets.

"Micheal-what?"

His smile widened. "Hello my dear."

She gestured to the cat now rolling onto its back as Micheal petted its belly. "Where did these come from?"

He looked over at the one still playing with his hair. "They followed someone into my corridors. They followed me here."

Right. Sasha shook her head and sat down, the one on its back stretched out before moving towards her curiously, it had orange hair like a tabby. She pet it and it purred in response.

"Micheal."

"Sasha."

"I don't have the stuff for these guys. I barely have the room, you don't really expect me too-" Her words were cut short as she watched the grey one tangled in Micheal's hair sound out a small mewl as Micheal tenderly picked it up in its hands with too much bone and fingers that stretched too far across. The cat didn't seem to mind.

Micheal hummed as he watched the cat in his arms twist and curl, purring contently as if Micheal wasn't a terrifying monster. Sasha dared to smile.

"I believe, if I remember correctly, these creatures need food, water." He chimed lightly. Sasha rolled her eyes.

"Fine. There's a store down the way from here. They have pet supplies." Sasha sighed as she stood to her feet. "And they are cats, Micheal."

He didn't so much as stand to his feet, rather a blur of motion and colors that stretched out and scattered like sand before he was standing in front of her. "Cats. Yes."

She grabbed her bag and walked towards the door, stopping when she realized Micheal was following her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you of course." He giggled, "silly question."

"Right." Sasha smiled, "This won't end badly at all."

----------------------------------------------

The actual trip wasn't horrible.

Besides the fact that every single dog started barking at Micheal which earned them a few curious glances from the staff, they made it out with a sack of cat food, cat litter, and a box. Even more than she had expected, Micheal paid. Handing the cash to the women as Sasha looked at him with such a confused expression she partially believed he did it just to see her reaction. Laughing as they left the store with the supplies. She simply shook her head.

"I think- he had one."

Sasha looked over at him, he looked, well, human. The way his coat sat on his shoulders and down past his boots, his hands wrapped around a bag of cat food. His eyes trained on nothing before looking over at her with a sharp smile.

Sasha frowned. "Who?"

"Micheal. Before-" His words echoed and trailed off.

Sasha understood. "I'm sorry." The words felt stupid in her mouth.

"Do not be, its-" he paused. "It's a nice memory, I am not sorry to have it, amongst the fractals of everything and nothing and the not-in between, it is nice."

Sasha thought about her question a moment before asking. "What's it like?"

"What?"

"The...what you said about the fractals and the nothingness, delusion...what's it like?"

"It Is Not What It Is and it is a part of me" he said it like a broken tune from some forgotten nursery rhyme. "It is madness- throaty, hollow, the depths of doubt- madness that stirs in the mind. It is not a physicality, but, within it, there is a certain…” He paused. “Ah! Beauty. Like a fine piece of decoration in a mundane hallway." Micheal laughed long and hard as they approached her building.

"You say it's beautiful?"

He giggled and shook his head. "You tell me, my dear, what with your It Knows You, all that knowledge will never satisfy, never relief, you see all and yet-" They entered her house to the two cats scratching up her couch and seemingly content with life. “Madness floods the senses and dilutes the mind, leaving it clear. It changes perception, blinds reality. It's a song sung with all the wrong notes and the wrong tune but it is beautiful nonetheless.” He sat the bag on the kitchen table and she prepared two bowls.

“A broken melody is still broken.”

“Ah, but only you would know if it's broken.”

Sasha paused and stared at him. He was crouched down, pouring the food into the bowl she had provided. It got everywhere and he giggled. Letting out a hummed “oops.” Before moving a long finger to scatter the dropped food even further. His hair cascaded around his shoulders and swept across the floor, the grey cat already taking interest in his dubbed playtoy.

She understood what he meant. And maybe there was a relieving beauty to it. Someone’s only lost if they themselves don’t know how to get to their destination. But if someone is simply wandering, well. There could be a comfort to that. Ignorance is bliss after all. A buzz of muddled headspace that someone looks for within drugs or alcohol. A weight lifted from the mind as it's consumed by something that isn’t tangible.

“Do you understand?” He looked back at her, the pieces of food that had missed the bowl now nowhere to be seen. The two cats had taken an interest in the food and water and were quick to indulge themselves. She looked into Micheal’s eyes, the swirling spirals that seemed to impossibly dilate as he looked at her. He seemed softer, somehow. All folded up and crouched on her floor seemingly as protection to the felines happily eating away. His sweater changed and morphed in color and she half wondered where his coat went. His scarf was wound around his neck and seemed to move like a snake, continually curling over his shoulders. Twisting and bending and pulling in every direction. He was an enigma to look at. Madness. An ever shifting idea that barely took shape before it was changing again. Beautiful. She decided.

He was beautiful.

She almost forgot he was waiting for a response. “I understand.” The words didn’t feel nearly enough. Some part of her reminded herself that she was supposed to be scared of this thing that had casually dropped two cats at her feet like it was nothing. This thing that bought the supplies with money she wasn’t sure he was even supposed to have. This thing that had given her a distorted flower that she still had in the living room. This thing that followed her around with a curiosity she couldn’t explain. This thing that had kissed her cheek instead of killing her when she had been in its corridors. She ignored that voice and instead moved to fix the litter box in the washroom.

Not even an hour later she was curled up on the couch petting the tabby as Micheal played with the gray one on the floor not even a foot away.

“What are their names?” She asked him, breaking the silence that seemed to muffle Micheal’s laughter as he let the cat swipe at his long fingers, pulling them away just in time.

“Names are redundant.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll call this one Pumpkin.”

He didn’t look away from the cat, letting it catch his fingers and pull them down to bite playfully. Micheal hardly seemed bothered. “Daisies.”

“The cat? That’s a pretty name.”

“No-” He giggled. “I remembered. I was picking them up.” He drew his hand away and pointed at the mess of lines and colors that had once been a flower, sitting in a jar on the coffee table.

Sasha smiled back. “Daisy it is. Pumpkin and Daisy.”

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

[marcmorrigan]

i finished the duel monsters dub for the first time ever last night (!!!) so i figured i oughta lock down my faces for the aibous... what a show, man

[hrrycore]

feeling v mentally unstable so i bought some silly 2010s fantasy books

[satellitesunset]

myle.txt

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!

*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*

Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.

Satoru.

You sigh.

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too! 

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app. 

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already! 

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical. 

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?! 

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked! 

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day! 

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight. 

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him. 

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected. 

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger  curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself. 

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer. 

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera. 

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat. 

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own. 

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face. 

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”  

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!” 

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment. 

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure. 

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo. 

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that. 

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly. 

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you. 

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples. 

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!? 

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof. 

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need. 

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit. 

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder. 

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own. 

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.   

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head. 

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you. 

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical. 

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor. 

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!” 

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion. 

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?  

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug. 

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go. 

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth. 

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is. 

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike.  Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again. 

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core. 

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass. 

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit. 

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor. 

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More. 

He had to have more from you. 

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon.  Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—” 

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: (lil backstory) you and Rafe have been a couple since day one and are pretty closed off but a new bombshell has come and chose Rafe for a date and now it’s time for her to choose who she wants to couple up with.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2,070

A/n: Inspired by the whole ordeal between rob liv and leah in love island usa lol SECOND PART IS HERE

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The villa was buzzing with the usual pre-recoupling jitters, and as you sat at your vanity, carefully applying the final touches of makeup, you heard Rafe’s voice echo down the hallway. “Babe,” he called out, his tone relaxed yet filled with that casual affection you’d grown to love. “Yeah, I’m in here!” you responded, smiling to yourself.

Through the mirror, you caught the familiar image of him entering, his sandy-blonde hair tousled, sun-kissed skin accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the edges of his mouth softened into a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer and bending down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make you feel like he was truly checking in. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a playful glint. He watched your reflection intently, as if trying to read your every expression.

“Just making sure,” he murmured, pulling a chair up beside yours. He settled in, crossing his arms, his gaze steady as he watched you apply the last bit of powder. You raised an eyebrow, feigning a casual tone. “Why? Should I be worried? Is there something you’re not telling me about your date with Kayla?” You smirked, trying to keep it light, but deep down, you were fishing for any reassurance you could get.

His hand found its way to your thigh, his grip warm and reassuring as his thumb brushed soothing circles. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone calm yet firm. “I told you everything, and, honestly, I don’t think she’ll pick me. We don’t have that spark—you and I do, though, yeah?” His eyes held yours, his expression open and genuine.

His gaze was steady, his smile reassuring, and despite the flicker of insecurity, you let out a slow breath, his words sinking in and soothing the lingering doubts in the back of your mind. “Okay,” you said finally, a genuine smile breaking through as he chuckled.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” he said, leaning in to press a series of soft kisses along your bare shoulder making you giggle, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that he seemed to crave as he pulled back, grinning. “What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, scanning the room with an approving gaze as his eyes landed on the green dress you’d laid out on the armchair nearby.

“That one.” You nodded toward the dress, and he hummed, his smile widening in approval. “Good choice. It’s gonna drive the others crazy.” “Glad you think so,” you replied, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you noticed the way he looked at you—like you were the only person who existed.

“Well, I’ll let you get ready,” he said, standing up and moving behind you. Through the mirror, you caught yourself staring. How could you not when Rafe looked so... edible. He met your gaze in the mirror, catching your look, and smirked. “Like what you see, Mrs. Cameron?” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, almost dangerous tone that made you laugh.

“Very much,” you replied, tilting your head back as he leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss that was both soft and full of promise, a reminder of the bond that the two of you had since day one. But before things could get too heated, you gently placed a hand on his jaw, pushing him back with a giggle.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he said, chuckling as he stepped back. Before he could leave, the door opened, and you both turned to see Kayla enter, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Rafe. “Hey,” Rafe greeted her casually, his tone polite but distant. You watched them exchange brief smiles before looking away, busying yourself with your lip gloss as Kayla approached her drawers.

“Hey, Y/n,” she greeted you brightly, her tone friendly as she settled beside you. “Hey,” you replied with a polite smile. “Excited for tonight?” “Oh, definitely!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so ready to sleep next to someone again; it’s been way too long.” She giggled, and you chuckled in response, keeping the mood light even as you fought off a pang of unease.

“Do you know who you’re choosing?” you asked, carefully applying your lip gloss as she fiddled with something in her drawer. She nodded confidently, her fingers tapping lightly as she glanced at you with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. I knew who I was gonna pick the second I walked in here.”

You nodded, hoping your expression didn’t betray the subtle tightening in your chest. It was in these little moments that the villa’s intensity hit, the constant swirl of emotions and unspoken fears. But as you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, you reminded yourself of the quiet confidence in Rafe’s words, of the unspoken bond you’d built.

~

The night air felt thick with tension as everyone gathered around the firepit, the familiar crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the group. You sat beside Rafe, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The warmth of his touch had been a quiet comfort, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along your skin—a small reassurance that whatever happened tonight, he was there.

But as Kayla’s voice broke through the murmur of anticipation, her words twisted the air around you, each one slicing deeper than the last. "I'm coupling up with this person because, from the moment we started talking, I definitely sensed that we had potential and that there was a spark there that I want to explore," Kayla said, her tone confident and unwavering as her gaze locked on the group.

Your eyes dropped to the flames, heart pounding, silently willing her words to be about someone else. When she finally spoke his name, “The person I want to couple up with is… Rafe,” the world seemed to freeze. Your breath hitched, and a wave of shock washed over you, cold and biting, despite the warmth of the firepit. Around you, a few gasps broke the silence, the girls’ faces mirroring the same surprise that you felt.

Your eyes darted to Kayla, disbelief clouding your expression, and then turned to Rafe, who sat motionless beside you, his face an unreadable mask as he stared blankly at the ground. “Really? Nothing to worry about?” you said, your voice low but sharp, brushing his arm off your shoulder. Anger surged through you, raw and uncontainable. You’d trusted him, taken his reassurances at face value.

And now, every promise felt like it had shattered between you. Rafe’s shoulders slumped slightly as he raked a hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “Rafe, you look surprised at Kayla's decision,” the host, Sophie commented , looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, his gaze finally flickering up to meet Kayla’s. “Yeah, uh—I don’t know what to say, really,” he mumbled, the frown deepening across his face.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t really interested,” he shrugged, but his words felt hollow to you, hanging in the tense air between him and Kayla. Kayla’s eyes flashed with indignation, and she crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Wow, yeah—that’s not how I felt during our date,” she said with a pointed look, and you felt a pang of betrayal twist in your stomach as her words settled over you.

The whole night, the small reassurances Rafe had given you, the gestures, the closeness—it all felt tainted. Sophie's voice cuts through, pulling you from the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Well, Kayla, if you could switch places with Y/n… and Y/n, if you could come stand beside me.” Standing, you avoided looking at Rafe or Kayla, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You forced yourself to breathe as you stepped away from the firepit, feeling the collective gaze of the group on you. “Y/n, you are now single, which leaves you vulnerable here on Love Island,” Sophie announced. You nodded slowly, your jaw tight as you bit down on your bottom lip, desperately holding back the flood of emotions welling inside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe looking anywhere but at you, his gaze flickering across the ground as if trying to distance himself from the situation. The sense of betrayal weighed heavily on you, every unspoken word thickening the air between you. As soon as Sophie left, the girls immediately swarmed around you, their arms linking through yours as they ushered you away from the firepit and into the makeup room.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to Sofia, who gave you a sympathetic squeeze. “Honestly, you deserve so much better than that,” she whispered, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back.

~

Rafe’s voice was soft but strained as he appeared behind you, his presence looming uncertainly. “Can we please talk?” His tone was laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing in him. His gaze drifted to your face, catching the redness around your eyes, the remnants of tears. You sighed, dabbing away the traces of mascara that had smudged beneath your eyes.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about, Rafe.” You shrugged, brushing him off as you tried to compose yourself. “Y/n, please,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice tugging at the edges of your anger. “I swear to god, I was making it crystal clear that I wasn’t interested. I told her, over and over, that I was in a happy situation with you.”

You felt the flicker of an ache under your ribs, a small crack in the wall you’d put up. “Then why, Rafe?” Your voice rose, bitterness spilling over. “Why did she pick you? She wouldn’t have done that out of the blue if she didn’t think there was something real, something genuine, between you two.” Your words struck him, and he took a small step back, almost flinching.

He opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped, as if suddenly unsure. “I don’t know why she chose me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you have to believe me, Y/n. None of this meant anything to me—she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He looked at you, and for a split second, you caught something raw, almost pleading, in his expression.

But the anger and the hurt still clouded your heart. You shook your head, exhaustion coating your words. “I’m just… I’m really tired, Rafe. I just want to go to bed.” You didn’t meet his eyes, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. He paused, the silence stretching painfully between you both. “Right. Good night, then,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a sadness that lingered in the air as he turned and left.

By the time you walked into the bedroom, Sofia was already there, her arms opening for you without a word. You melted into her embrace, the comfort of her support soothing your frazzled nerves. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, squeezing you tightly before you finally pulled away, giving her a small, grateful smile.

As you made your way to your bed, your gaze involuntarily flickered to Kayla’s. She lay there, already settled in, Rafe’s pillow on the other side, and it made your stomach churn. You slipped into bed, laying in the center, feeling an aching emptiness beside you. Rafe should have been there. His warmth, his steady breathing as you fell asleep, had been a constant.

Then, as if on cue Rafe walked into the room. His eyes skimmed over you for a second before he headed toward Kayla’s bed. The air was thick with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out, to say something, but you held back, the bitterness fresh in your chest. Rafe leaned over, whispering something to Kayla, though you couldn’t make out the words.

Then, without warning, he grabbed his pillow, stepping away from her bed and heading out of the room. You caught Sofia’s gaze across the dimly lit space, her knowing look meeting your own. She offered a small smile of understanding, and you returned it faintly before letting your eyes drift shut, hoping sleep would bring a break from all the emotions.

next

[malavera]

Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

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[onelastkiss4you]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Just Went From A Good RPG To One Of BioWare’s Most Important Games

In light of BioWare scattering some of its most foundational veteran talent to the winds, Dragon Age: The Veilguard sure reads like something made by people who saw the writing on the wall. The RPG leaves off on a small cliffhanger that could launch players into a fifth game, but I’m skeptical that we’ll ever get it. The quickness with which publisher Electronic Arts gutted BioWare and masked it with talk of being more “agile” and “focused” shortly after it was revealed The Veilguard underperformed in the eyes of the power that be makes me wonder if BioWare was also unsure it would get to return to Thedas a fifth time. Looking back, I’m pretty convinced the team was working as if Rook’s adventure through the northern regions of this beloved fantasy world might be the last time anyone, BioWare or fan, stepped foot in it. But that may have only made me appreciate the game even more.

Yeah, I might be doomsaying, but there’s a lot of reasons to do so right now. The loss of talented people like lead writer Trick Weekes, who has been a staple in modern BioWare since the beginning of Mass Effect, or Mary Kirby who wrote characters like Varric, the biggest throughline through the Dragon Age series, doesn’t inspire confidence that EA understands the lifeblood of the studio it acquired in 2007. The Veilguard has been a divisive game for entirely legitimate reasons and the most bad-faith ones you can imagine on the internet in 2025, but my hope is that history will be kinder to it as time goes on. 

A Kotaku reader reached out to me after the news broke to ask if they should still play The Veilguard after everything that happened. My answer was that now we are probably in a better position to appreciate it for what it was: a (potentially) final word.

The Veilguard is just as much a send-off for a long-running story as it does a stepping stone for what (might) come. Its secret ending implies a new threat is lurking somewhere off in the distance but by and large, The Veilguard is about the end of an era. BioWare created an entire questline essentially writing Thedas’ history in stone, removing any ambiguity that gave life to over a decade of theory-crafting. As a long-time player, I’m glad The Veilguard solidifies the connective tissue between what sometimes felt like world of isolated cultures that lacked throughlines that made the world feel whole. But sitting your cast of weirdos down for a series of group therapy sessions unpacking the ramifications of some of the biggest lore dumps the studio has ever put to a Bluray disc isn’t the kind of narrative choice you make if you’re confident there’s still a future for the franchise. 

Unanswered questions are the foundation of sequels, and The Veilguard has an almost anxious need to stamp those out. Perhaps BioWare learned a hard lesson by leaving Dragon Age: Inquisition on a cliffhanger and didn’t want to repeat the same restriction. But The Veilguard doesn’t just wrap up its own story, it concludes several major threads dating back to Origins and feels calculated and deliberate. If BioWare’s goal with The Veilguard was to bring almost everything to a definitive end, the thematic note it leaves this world on acts as a closing graf summing up a thesis the series hopes to convey.

Pushing away the bigotry that has followed The Veilguard like a starving rat digging through trash, one of the most common criticisms I heard directed against the game was that it lacked a certain thorny disposition that was prevalent in the first three games. Everyone in the titular party generally seems to like each other, there aren’t real ethical and philosophical conflicts between the group, and the spats that do arise are more akin to the arguments you probably get into with your best friends. It’s a new dynamic for the series. The Veilguard doesn’t feel like coworkers as The Inquisition did or the disparate group who barely tolerated each other we followed in Dragon Age II. They are a friend group who, despite coming from different backgrounds, factions, and places, are pretty much on the same page about what the world should be. They’re united by a common goal, sure, but at the core of each of their lived experiences is a desire for the world to be better.

This rose-colored view of leftism doesn’t work for everyone. At its worst, The Veilguard can be saccharine to the point of giving you a cavity, which is far from what people have come to expect from a series in which Fenris and Anders didn’t care if the other lived or died. It also bleeds into a perceived softening of the universe. Factions like the Antivan Crows have essentially become the Bat Family with no mention of the whole child slavery thing that was our first introduction to them back in Origins. The Lords of Fortune, a new pirate faction, goes to great lengths to make sure you know that they’re not like the other pirates who steal from other cultures, among other things. I joked to a friend once that The Veilguard is a game terrified of getting canceled, and as such a lot of the grit and grime has been washed off for something shiny and polished. 

That is the more critical lens to view the way The Veilguard’s sanitation of Thedas. To an extent, I agree. We learned so much about how the enigmatic country of the Tevinter Imperium was a place built upon slavery and blood sacrifice, only for us to conveniently hang out in the common poverty-stricken areas that are affected by the corrupt politics we only hear about in sidequests and codex entries. But decisions like setting The Veilguard’s Tevinter stories in the slums of Dogtown gives the game and its writers a place to make a more definitive statement, rather than existing in the often frustrating centrism Dragon Age loved to tout for three games.

I have a lot of pain points I can shout out in the Dragon Age series, but I don’t think one has stuck in my craw the way the end of Anders rivalry relationship goes down in Dragon Age II. This is a tortured radical mage who is willing to give his life to fight for the freedom of those who have been born into a corrupt system led by the policing Templars. And yet, if you’ve followed his rivalry path, Anders will turn against the mages he, not five minutes ago, did some light terrorism trying to free. In Inquisition, this conflict of ideals and traditions comes to a head, but you’re able to essentially wipe it all under the rug as you absorb one faction or the other into your forces. So often Dragon Age treats its conflicts and worldviews as toys for the player to slam against one another, shaping the world as they see fit, and bending even the most fiercely devoted radical to your whims. And yes, there are some notable exceptions to this rule, but when it came to world-shifting moments of change, Dragon Age always seemed scared to assert that the player might be wrong. Mages and Templars, oppressed and oppressors, were the same in the eyes of the game, each worthy of the same level of scrutiny.

Before The Veilguard, I often felt Dragon Age didn’t actually believe in anything. Its characters did, but as a text, Dragon Age often felt so preoccupied with empowering the player’s decisions that it felt like Thedas would never actually get better, no matter how much you fought for it. While it may lack the same prickly dynamics and the grey morality that became synonymous with the series, The Veilguard’s doesn’t just believe that the world is full of greys and let you pick which shade you’re more comfortable with. It’s the most wholeheartedly the Dragon Age universe has declared that the world of Thedas can be better than it was before.

Essentially retconning the Antivan Crows to a family of superheroes is taking a hammer to the problem, whereas characters like Neve Gallus, a mage private eye with a duty-bound love for her city and its people, are the scalpel with which BioWare shifts its vision of how the world of Thedas can change. Taash explores their identity through the lens of Dragon Age’s longstanding Qunari culture, known for its rigidness in the face of an ever-changing world, and comes out the other end a new person, defined entirely by their own views and defying others. Harding finds out the truth behind how the dwarves were severed from magic and still remembers that she believes in the good in people. The heroes of The Veilguard have seen the corruption win out, and yet never stop believing that something greater is possible. It's not even an option in The Veilguard's eyes. The downtrodden will be protected, the oppressed will live proudly, and those who have been wronged will find new life.

That belief is what makes The Veilguard a frustrating RPG, to some. It’s so unyielding in its belief that Thedas and everyone who inhabits it can be better that it doesn’t really entertain you complicating the narrative. Rook can come from plenty of different backgrounds, make decisions that will affect thousands of people, but they can never really be an evil bastard. If they did, it would fundamentally undermine one of the game’s most pivotal moments. In the eleventh hour, Dragon Age mainstay Varric Tethras is revealed to have died in the opening hour, and essentially leaves all his hopes and dreams on the shoulders of Rook. After our hero is banished to the Fade and forced to confront their regrets in a mission gone south, Varric’s spirit sends Rook on their way to save the day one last time. He does so with a hearty chuckle, saying he doesn’t need to wish you good luck because “you already have everything you need.” He is, of course, referring to the friends you have calling to you from beyond the Fade. 

Varric, the narrator of Dragon Age, uses his final word to declare a belief that things will be okay. This isn’t because Rook is the chosen one destined to save the world, but because they have found people who are unified by one thing: a need to fight for a better world. But that’s what makes it compelling as a possibly final Dragon Age game. Reaching the end of a universe’s arc and being wholly uninterested in leaving it desecrated by hubris or prejudice is a bold claim on BioWare’s part. It takes some authorship away from the player, but in return, it leaves the world of Thedas in a better place than we found it.

The Veilguard is an idealistic game, but it’s one that BioWare has earned the right to make. Dragon Age’s legacy has been one of constantly shifting identity, at least two counts of development hell, and a desire to gives players a sandbox to roleplay in. Perhaps, as Dragon Age likely comes to a close, it’s better to leave Dragon Age with a game as optimistic as the people who made it. I can’t think of a more appropriate finale than one that represents the world its creators hope to see, even as the world we live in now gives us every reason to fall to despair.

In my review for The Veilguard I signed off expressing hope for BioWare’s future that feels a bit naive in retrospect. Would a divisive but undeniably polished RPG that felt true to the studio’s history be enough when, after 10 years of development, rich suits were probably looking for a decisive cultural moment? That optimism was just about a video game. Having lived through the past 32 years, most of the optimism I’ve ever held feels naive to look back on. I think I’m losing hope that the world will get any better. But even if we haven’t reached The Veilguard’s idealized vision, I’ll take some comfort in knowing someone previously at BioWare still believes it’s possible. - ken shepard, shepardcdr.bsky.social

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part five | lhs.

pairings: hyungline x reader

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8k

warnings: smut, minors dni, fivesome, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, raw sex (please use protection), dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: lee heeseung’s solo part. next one will be jay’s. thank you so much for supporting my works and loving strip for me series. also, this doesn’t have heavy smut since i want to show the boy’s affection with reader outside the bed even more. anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged.

part one; two; three; four

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

you got sick the day after. maybe because your body got overwhelmed and didn’t expect that kind of activity. they let you rest for as long as you like until you finally regained your senses.

it was almost 10 pm when heeseung drove you home. both of you silent throughout the drive. heeseung’s glancing at you from time to time, but you refused looking at him.

your mom isn’t really skeptical about it. its also a good thing that she didn’t wonder why the hell did you get sick the day after because you have no idea what will you tell her.

today’s saturday. you skipped school yesterday and just laid on your bed the whole time.

your mind is still occupied by the big question: ‘what are you for those boys?’

they did took care of you that definitely ruin the whole concept of you being their toy and made you confused. the switch up is totally odd as well. they’re always so rude and harsh towards you, then suddenly they went soft and gentle.

that tho, didn’t change the fact that you felt used. (name)’s words kept repeating inside your mind like a broken radio.

a faint knock on your bedroom door snaps you out of you thoughts.

“y/n?” its your mom. “you have visitors. your friends are here.” she announced that draws your brows together.

“friends?” you’re beyond confuse.

nobody ever visited you, and more importantly, what friends? while feeling a little disoriented, you forced yourself out of the bed then faced the mirror once.

the smile on your mother’s face is bright, looking so delighted. she feels excited by this visit she’s referring to, you can tell by how she ushered you down the staircase.

“mom, wait.” you tried calming her down because you can’t think properly on who those friends she’s talking about.

“come on! they’re waiting.” and finally, you made it to the last step then she almost drag you to the spacious living room.

your lips gapped when you saw them dominates the sofa set by the middle. its just the four of them but it seem too crowded. maybe because they’re all so tall and now the average looking sofa looks a bit small for them.

they all whipped their heads on your direction the moment you stepped inside. you cannot exactly tell the look on their faces. your mom smiles and tugs your arm lightly.

“they said they’ve been worried, sweetie. why didn’t you told them that you’re sick?” she pouts.

you blinked, pushing the tears back inside your eyes. its a bit annoying. how you planned to ignore them after what happened and now you can feel your heart warms up just by seeing them here. how all the courage to finally end it dissipates along with your anger for the four fine men in front of you.

its kind of sickening. you find yourself pathetic for actually letting them affect you this way. they make you feel worthless, but at the same time they’re the only ones who can make you feel special.

“i’m s-sorry, it slipped off my mind.” you sniffed and tried to hide the real emotion through a half-smile.

your mom totally bought that reason. she hums and then she can hear a faint ringing from the other side of the house.

“oh! that must be my workmate. i’ll leave you guys here, okay? i will order food for you guys.” she coos and then exits the living room, leaving you alone with them.

their eyes settles at you, flashing with an foreign look on it. that made you feel uneasy so you glanced away.

“sweets,” jake was the first one to approach you closer, reaching for your arm.

his heart sank when you yank it back, declining his affection. he looks surprised and he wanted to try again, but he doesn’t want to push it.

“why are y-you here?” your voice cracks and looked at them one by one.

jay looks concerned, heeseung have his usual calm composure and sunghoon’s brows are furrowed. you can’t tell if he’s mad or worried. he stood up, stopping himself to advance towards you. he doesn’t want to scare you.

“we just want to check on you...” sunghoon says in his softest tone. he licked his lips, blinking multiple times to try and calm himself.

your view of sunghoon got covered when jake steps closer, his brows furrowed hardly and eyes glistening with sadness. his hand hangs mid way, attempting to get in touch of you, craving it.

“we got worried when you skipped class yesterday. we tried to call you, sweetheart.” jake looks desperate. it slightly broke your heart seeing him this way. his mischievous smile long gone.

“but you ignored all of us...” it was jay who talked this time.

you gave him a short glance. the stare stays for a while before you pursed your lips to sigh heavily. chest tightens and mind all messed up.

“what happened, sweets?” jake steps closer.

out of all of them, he’s the most touch deprived. one day without you and he’s all over the place. not to mention that you’ve been ignoring all of them. none of their attempts to contact you became successful and its sending him in distress.

you glanced at him then took a step backward. it pinned him on his position, eyes blank. jake looks in pain, but you looked much worst.

heeseung may seem calm, but behind this composed demeanour is his mind being a mess. he’s in panic. he never seen you this way and honestly he’s not prepared. he gulps and tries to gather himself.

“jake...” he calls his friend to stop him from advancing more.

as expected, he didn’t listen and attempts to take another step but a tear escaping your eye is what halts him from doing so. they never seen you this bothered and terrified before.

“sweets...” jake almost chokes on air when he softly tries to call you.

“p-please leave.” your breaths heavy, and chest painful from thinking that you’ll be ending what you have with them

its messed up. its very wrong. the set up is fucked up, but you can’t deny that you’ve gained more than you lost from this—whatever you call this.

it may sound exaggerated, but you think you saw all of their faces lose color. their eyes flickers fear and shoulders hangs low after hearing what you said.

“s-sweets...” jake’s voice cracks, trying to earn some sympathy. he never done that. he isn’t someone so weak. he always know where he stand and his power he holds over people. but not at the moment, specially not in front of you.

heeseung clenches his jaw to hide his trembling lips. he unclasped his fist, realizing he’s been doing that ever since you’ve walked inside the room.

jay’s in shambles. he doesn’t know what to feel at the moment. he’s always been the nonchalant one. never shown that there’s a weak spot in him. but now that you seem to be slipping away from him, he’s lost. he can feel his heart aching, hands shaking and breaths shorten.

sunghoon’s silent. his eyes never left you, fists balled tightly. he’s cursing himself. for being so ruthless and aggressive. he’s blaming it all to him and his friends. they’re so selfish. and you’re just too perfect. you did nothing wrong. it was all on them.

“y/n,” heeseung licks his lips and this time he trudges closer. jake glances at him, eyes full of hope. maybe his heeseung hyung can fix this mess. he can, right? that’s what echoes inside his mind.

“angel...” he gulps and you noticed how he’s a little off right now. he’s far from the reserve and calm, heeseung you’re used to.

he looks... anxious. the fear and trepidation flashes clearly through his eyes. something you’ve never seen before.

“tell me what’s wrong, hmm? we’ll talk about it.” he says using his calmest tone. “we’ll figure things out.”

that caught you off-guard. if there’s something about these four men have in common is that they love being in control of you. they get off seeing fear and watching you submit to them.

so to hear him saying those words are new for you. talk? will they really listen? what if they just laugh at you if you opened it up to them.

those questions clouded your mind to the point that you didn’t notice jake approaching closer. heeseung wanted to stop him, but he knew there’s no preventing jake from getting close. its either he lets him or he’ll completely lose it.

jake’s warm hands wraps over your wrist is what snaps you back in to your senses.

“sweets...” he calls you. his eyes scanned your face and wait if you’ll resist his affection once again.

he gulps, hope igniting when you didn’t shove his hold off. he took a step closer and this time cups your face. your cheeks warm that sent comfort to jake.

“tell us what’s wrong...” he whispers, pleading. he rest his forehead on top of yours and shut his eyes. “please.” he added.

that made you cry. because you got scared. you’re afraid to confront them because it may end everything.

“what a-am i to you, really?” you started that caught them off-guard.

“y-you guys...” they kept their stares right at your face, waiting attentively to what you’re about to say.

“you treat me like a toy. you’re playing with me like as if i d-don’t have feelings.”

if the scene moments ago hurts them, then this surely broke everything in them. they were silent for a while. reflecting to all the things they’ve done so far to you. yes, they were a little less insolent the other day, but what they did to you probably made you misunderstand it.

jake was the first one to retract, “what? no, sweetheart.” he licks his lips and cares your cheeks gently. he shakes his head continuously.

“we...” he gulps, nervous. he locks his gaze at you and softens, tears brimming his eyes. “i love you.” he blurted out that made you hitch your breath.

that obviously is not what you expected to get from him. specially from jake. he’s the player, always have girls around him. you’ve never heard him say those words to anyone.

your eyes stares right at his desperate ones, trying to search for any traces of mischief over them. but none. sincerity and desperation is all you can see through them.

a warm hand rests at the small of your back then someone rests his forehead at the side of your head. his familiar manly scent invades your nose.

jay’s eyes are tightly closed when you try to glance at him. his jaw clenched hard as his hand bore onto your back.

“i’m sorry if you misunderstood us, baby. that’s not how we want things to escalate.” he mumbles so softly. nuzzling close to you, like as if it will help ease those pain away.

it made you sob. heeseung approaches and his friends gave space for him. he grabs one of your hand and caress it. while staring at your eyes, he placed a gentle kiss on it while the other two boys tries to hugs you. jake’s got his face buries on the crook of your neck, jay remains standing beside you.

“i’m sorry, angel. we...” he couldn’t continue right away. he gulps. “we didn’t know this is how you feel.”

tears streams down your face. continuously. and your chest aches, but this time its for a different reason. you didn’t expect any of these. you imagined them scoffing and laughing at you for actually catching feelings for them. they basically mistreated you.

jake tightens his hug on you, refusing to let go. his warmth envelopes you. jay has his hand placed at the small of your back, caressing it up and down. heeseung has your hand, kissing it from time to time.

the three of them whispered their sorries. they totally feel bad. as your eyes roams around, it caught sunghoon’s.

he’s still standing at his place. didn’t move a step. he’s just there, watching all of this unfold. his heart aches, that’s for sure. he wanted to come close to you too just like how his friends are trying to console you, but his feet are stoned.

he cannot do it. he’s afraid.

out of all of them, he’s the meanest. he says the most hurtful and degrading words towards you. of course, he meant none of them. he’s just caught up in the moment and to the thought of dominating you.

his heart drops at the sight of your tear stained eyes. all those times he’s been rough on you flashes back through his mind like a montage. he hates it. he hates himself.

heeseung whips his head back to look over his shoulder. he can see how sunghoon has his fists balled. how he looked scared. he’s never seen him this way.

“dude.” he calls.

jake lifts his head to look at his friend, jay’s watching too. sunghoon kept silent, his lips shaken.

“h-hoon?” you called him out, now starting to feel worried by how he’s acting.

sunghoon’s eyes stings as it heats up. he knew he’s tearing up, but he won’t let you see him shed tears. not because he’s trying to mask it ouy, but 'cause he knew it will make you even sadder. he’s scared that he will cause more damage.

his eyes met his heeseung hyung and he nods with a small encouraging smile. the four of them grew up together. they’ve known each other their whole life, so he knew why sunghoon’s not approaching.

its not because he’s mad. he’s being careful. and sunghoon’s never been like this towards someone.

sunghoon gulps then take small courageous steps. your eyes watch him carefully, waiting patiently.

when he’s steps away from you, his eyes softens and you saw how his hand trembles when he lifts it to touch you. he backs out, hesitating to lay his hand on you.

“i’m sorry.” he says in a low voice.

it was such a short sentence but the amount of emotion his eyes shows is enought to let you know that he has so many more that he wants to say.

your eyes scanned his face. slowly, you laid your hand out for him. its a way to let him know that its fine and that you allow him to touch you.

his eyes darts at it. he contemplates, but eventually reaches out. your warm hands sent comfort to sunghoon’s cold ones. it gave him life.

“i’m sorry, pretty. w-we’re really sorry.” he mumbles as he buries his face on your neck. his big figure almost covers you up from heeseung’s perspective.

they watch silently. thankful that you’re just too nice to even let them be this close to you. they exchange look to each other and knew they had to do something to make it up to you.

“forgive us, angel. we’ll do better from now on.” heeseung says and rest his big hands on your hip.

you looked at him and kept silent.

honestly, you’ve been thinking of ending it between them. the amount of stress and overthinking you’ve been going through because of them was unhealthy. you promised that after confronting them and if they confirmed that they’re just here for the fun, you’ll bolt out.

but... this is totally a big turn of events.

your lips stretched a little. a subtle gentle smile, but still visible to their eyes are what relieved them.

“okay.”

jake rushes closer and kisses your cheeks multiple times. “really, sweets? thank you! i love you!” he excitedly mumbled between his kisses.

you felt sunghoon’s big strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

“thanks, baby. we will try our best.” jay caught your attention when he rest his hand on top of your head, giving it light taps.

the corner of his lips lifts before leaning to kiss you on the lips. “i love you.” he whispers, like he doesn’t want the other boys to hear. like it was only meant for you.

jake steps in, the sulky boy in him coming out. “kiss me on the lips too!” he argues and pouts his plump lips.

jay snorted and swat his arms. you chuckles and lets him lean in for a swift kiss. his eyes sparkling after that smooch.

heeseung’s hands digs on your hip as he leans silently to drop a kiss on your lips. it was soft and lasts for a few seconds. when he pulls away, he remains close and smiles.

“thank you, angel. we’ll be good boyfriends. right?” he says and looks at his friends which they responded with nods.

you blushed, “b-boyfriends?” surprised.

heeseung smirks then nods, “you’re our girl.” he pinches your cheeks lightly. “not some toy.”

sunghoon places a kiss on your neck then pulls away. his eyes bores to you. they glisten affection and relief.

“our pretty girl.” he whispers and dips his head to give you a feathery hot kiss on the lips.

your eyes opens when he pulls away.

“we need to work on our issues in order for this to work. we don’t want another misunderstanding like this.” heeseung announces.

“do you have anything else you don’t like, angel? except from us being total assholes...” he cleared his throat.

your mind wonders. “i d-didn’t like what we did the last time. its o-overwhelming...”

they all looked at you with cute eyes then jay chuckles. “i mean she did passed out that time. her stamina couldn’t handle it.” he says.

heeseung nods, “at least we get to try it once, right?” he smirks, the memories of the night still lingers to his mind.

you blushed and glanced away.

“is that all, angel?”

you look back at heeseung and nodded.

“please stop being aggressive.” you reminded, ears turning red.

they almost cooed at how adorable you looked.

“we promise.” they say almost in unison then approaches for a group hug with you in the middle, making sure they aren’t squishing you too much.

“but we can still do threesome, right?” jake asks innocently that made all of you whip your heads at his direction.

“jake!” they all hissed at him for still being horny despite the wholesome situation that only made you chuckle.

“hi!” you shyly greets when you saw heeseung outside of your house, leaning over his black audi.

its monday morning and you’re beyond surprise to receive a text message from him saying he’ll be picking you up for school. of course you got excited. this will be the first time.

���good morning, beautiful.” he smirks and snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

your cheeks blushed at his words then stomach churns when he leans in for a kiss. it seems so natural. like this is your usual morning routine.

“get in.” he instruct and even open the door for you.

once inside, he swiftly walks around to ride the driver’s seat. then off you go. it was a short drive, but it isn’t awkward. heeseung’s asking questions from time to time to start a conversation while a low music plays on his radio.

the moment his car enters the parking area designated for the students, you saw familiar boys. jay’s leaning over his car while jake and sunghoon bickers about something.

“oh they’re early.” you mumble because usually you arrive first.

heeseung’s always on time since he’s the school’s president. jay and jake arrives at school just on time. sunghoon’s the one always late, unless he have his morning practices.

their heads whips at your direction once they heard the familiar blaring of heeseung’s car. jake turns his back over hoon then waves like an excited puppy. he for sure cannot see you yet as the car is heavily tinted, but it made you smile. he’s so cute.

he’s on your side of the door once heeseung’s done parking it. he waits until the car’s unlocked and then open it for you.

“sweetheart!” he greets happily then hugs you.

heeseung shakes his head while smirking then unclasped your seatbelt for you as you’re busy greeting jake, returning his hug.

jay and sunghoon walks closer as well then hoon went to grab your things from the backseat. he naturally carries it, letting one strap hangs on his arm.

“hey, baby.” jay greets and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“hi jay.”

“i arrived earlier than both of them!” jake interrupts, proudly letting you know how he’s very punctual today.

“wow, that’s great jakey.” you complimented him and his eyes sparkles.

“yeah, right. you’re so childish.” sunghoon commented before leaning towards you for his kiss.

all of you walks on the hallways together. sunghoon and heeseung’s is a few steps ahead while jake’s beside you telling you about his dog. even showing you her cute pictures and bragging how she’s the smartest dog ever. which sunghoon quickly argues that his dog is much better.

jay’s on your other side, silently listening to his friend’s playful banters. he’s very used to it already and slowly, you too.

curious eyes follows the five of you. there’s a hint of surprise and judgment through them. some are whispering, some just stares with mouth slightly gapped and others just don’t care.

honestly, it bothers you. their eyes carefully watching you is making you uneasy. it felt so weird being watched that it makes you wonder how these boys got used to this.

jake’s warm hand envelops yours that caught your attention. he smiles, his red plump lips distracting you.

“don’t mind them, sweets. they’re just jealous.” he whispers, eyes staring straight at yours.

with blushing cheeks, you blinked twice. “w-why? because i’m with you guys?”

he shakes his head and leans closer, his lips grazing your ears that made your stomach drop. “because you’re ours.”

to say that your face turns red is an understatement. your heart races and he just winks then continues talking about other things.

when you arrived at the classroom, they’re all looking curiously. wondering why these boys are acting this way around you. as far as they remember, they used to bully you around. basically why you end up becoming a loner.

“here, pretty.” sunghoon says and placed your things at the side of the chair. you thanked him and he just smiled before walking to his seat.

jay and heeseung did the same but jake remains near you, pouting hardly.

“can’t i move seats?” he complains.

you chuckle and cares his arm, “go to your seat now, jakey.”

he sighs and wants to lean to give a kiss but stops himself. you did talked about them not to do pda in public or at least when around a lot of people. not everyone is open for this kind of relationship, you just don’t want any issues.

“jake, stop being sulky and sit down.” jay calls him then rolls his eyes.

the said boy just raises his fist and showed his middle finger to his friend. you chuckled and just sat down so jake can go to his chair.

eventually, the homeroom teacher walks inside for morning reminders. she mentioned the upcoming fieldtrip which slightly riles you up. you’re excited to go at the museums and such.

during the breaktime, the boys accompanied you. sunghoon and jake to be specific. the other two are busy on student council so its just the three of you.

“what do you want to eat, doll?” sunghoon asks while pulling a chair for you.

jake’s playing with the edge of your hair while watching you carefully.

“anything is fine.”

hoon nods once, “i’ll order for you.”

“thank you, hoon.” with a smile.

he smirks then squeezed your hand before walking off. jake and you sat down at the table.

“did heeseung hyung told you already?” he starts.

“about?”

“he’s taking you out on a date later.” he says casually while doing something to his phone. his forehead narrows, very focus.

“a d-date?”

he hums, answering your question with a short nod. he’s not looking at you, still hooked to his phone. “where?”

he shrugs, “have no idea.”

your heart hammered just by the thought of going on a date with thee lee heeseung. yes, they did said that they’ll make it up to you and that confirmed your relationship with them, but sometimes it still don’t sink in.

they’re your boyfriends...

your eyes caught the glimpse of what jake’s doing and you got distracted. its a picture of you. that was the first time you saw it.

“is that me?”

jake whips his head at you then smiled, “yes! i’m putting you as my wallpaper.” then he clicked something before locking it and opening the screen to show you.

its a candid picture of you. you forgot when it was, but it was obvious that you’re unaware of him taking that photo. you’re focused on something.

“beautiful, isn’t it?” his smug smirk looked adorable. he cocked his eyebrow once, smirking wider. “that’s my girlfriend.”

you blushed even harder. “stop it.”

he chuckled, finding you adorable. instead of stopping, he stared more intensely making you even more flustered.

“j-jake..” and you glance away.

“fine, i’ll stop.” finally, he glances away, his big grin not wiping off.

sunghoon arrives afterwards and the three of you enjoys the time together before going back to your class.

during your vacant, some of your classmates are doing random things inside the room. you find it a waste to just do nothing and remembered about the history assignment.

you stood up and instantly, four heads whips at your direction. when the bell rang and one of the students announced that it was your vacant, they all naturally gathered around you.

“where are you going?” they almost ask at the same time.

“a-at the library.” you answered, shy that all of their attention is now directed at you. its slowly becoming a habit, but that’s something you will never get used to.

“i’ll go with you.” heeseung was quick to stand up and fix his uniform slightly before carding his soft black hair once.

you gulped, “o-okay...” and your eyes dropped at the three boys who remains sitting down.

sunghoon smiles, “see you later, doll. i’m sleepy.” he reasons then leans over his table.

jay just smiled. jake have this pout on his lips. “i really want to co—” his words got interrupted when jay covered his mouth.

“shut up.”

heeseung covers your line of sight from them then flashes this soft smile. “let’s go?” he says and just like being hypnotized by his gaze, you nod your head.

heeseung ushered you to the library, asking what you’re going there for. once informed about the assignment, he said that he’s already finished with his so he’ll just help you.

you can’t help but to be at awe for this man. can he be more perfect? he’s good in everything.

he find you guys a vacant table and asked you to sit down. he said he will look for the book he used and you thanked him. it didn’t took long before you saw him walking back with a handful of books. strangely, he fits this image well.

you’re in complete trance when he walked closer then placed it on the table. he then started pointing the references he used and told you that you can gather information from those articles then summarize it to your own words.

that was plenty for you. considering it will save you time doing this assignment. with a small smile you thank him then proceed on focusing on the task. heeseung sat beside you and watch how your brows draws closer.

his grin grew wider and fingers starting playing through his lower lip. his stares never left you then it slowly trailed down from your brows to your nose and then lips. those damn lips...

he inhaled and licked his lip, cleared his throat in the most silent way.

now, he went here with you with the most genuine intention of helping you. but then his thoughts are starting to wonder into something... inappropriate.

you did said that you only disapprove of them being mean and aggressive, right? being horny is not mentioned. so you probably won’t mind if he fingers you knuckle deep right now.

god, just by thinking of it, heeseung’s already salivating.

besides, its not his fault that you look so innocent and very pretty looking all serious.

he rests his hand on your thigh that made you jolt in surprise. you blinked twice then turns your head at his direction. he’s giving you this lazy look while biting over his lips.

your chest hammered and stomach churns when he started caressing your thighs gently. making sure you can feel his rough palms rubbing against your exposed skin.

“h-heeseung...”

he raised an eyebrow, “yes, angel?” he asks innocently like as if he’s not doing trailing his hands upwards into your inner skirt.

“w-we’re in the library...” and you roam your eyes trying to check if there’s people near enough to get suspicious of what’s going on under the table.

“exactly. go study.” he says with a grin.

“w-what are you doing? they might see—”

“shh, don’t worry. just be a good girl and do your assignment, okay?” and he leans to drop a kiss on the side of your head, ushering you to continue doing your work.

after staring at him for a while and realizing he ain’t going to stop, you decided to just go with it. besides, you can’t hide the arousing feeling that slowly poisoning your whole system. your head starting to get fuzzy, core getting wet as he started to trace the line of your pussy.

you hummed, teeth sunk onto your lower lip in attempt to stop any moans that wants to come out. “ungh,”

he chuckles sexily, “try to be quiet. we’re at the library after-all.” he whispered.

he pulls his hand out then gave it a lick before dipping it back in. “open your legs for me, please.” he demanded in a very soft tone.

you’re already in deep thoughts, unable to even respond properly and just obliged his dirty desires. once he have a better access, heeseung pushes your underwear to touch you bare.

his fingers are hot and rough. feels so good. he started on your clit, rubbing it in a very delicious way.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he curses, enjoying how your face contorts out of pleasure. pleasure that he’s currently giving you.

“h-hee..” you calls him.

he smirks, loving the way you’re so needy for his fingers.

“all right, i'm going in angel. focus on your assignment.” he stated like as if its even possible to do that. but you tried to pull yourself together. heaved a sigh then looked at the books in front of you. none of the words made sense, but that’s not important.

your mouth slightly gaps as he inserted one finger inside you. the stretch felt so good it makes you want to moan loudly.

“shh.” he reminded, chuckling.

he’s enjoying it. he’s loving it as much as you’re loving being finger fucked.

he didn’t stopped and put another finger. he let it rest inside, trying to take time feeling your tightness around his long fingers. he wants to imagine it to be his dick and he bet it will feel heaven. he shove that thought right away, he needs to focus on you.

“you’re so tight around me, angel.” he whispered huskily. “even after being fucked by all of us, you’re still so fucking tight.” he started talking in nasty way.

the way he say it in a calm tone just hits in a different way. you gulped and breath out, calming yourself.

“p-please.”

he smirks and gave you another kiss on the side of your head. he started moving his fingers that almost sent your soul out of your body. the way his fingers moved in and out in your tight hole just feels perfect.

he continues, slowly catching his pace that just added to your pleasure. one of your hand grips over his thighs, squishing it that he quickly find adorable.

“how i wish its my tongue inside that hole, angel.” he says that he truly means.

you whimpered lowly and tried to keep your eyes open. the words on the book starting to became blurry. it went on for a while until you feel a knot forming on your stomach. a sign that you’re already close.

“heeseung...” you calls out.

he chuckles then rutt his fingers even faster making you whimper softly. you glance at him and he already knew that you’re close. from the way your eyes are half-lidded and teeth digging unto your lips, you are definitely about to release.

he fucks deeper and just a few moments after you came to his fingers, head hanging low and grip over his thighs tightening. you shake lightly that made him chuckle, leaning his head closer to kiss you by the head.

“you did so well.” he complimented then kept on thrusting in and out in a slow pace, helping you ride your high.

once you calmed down, he pulls it out making you wine. he stares at you then shamelessly took his fingers over his lips to suck it. your eyes grew and cheeks blushed hardly.

“heeseung!”

he smirks, “i deserve a reward, don’t you think?” then he winks at you making you lose your mind. he’s going to be the death of you.

“bye baby.” jay smiles and kisses you gently before moving away to give way for sunghoon. he’s already holding his helmet by one of his hand.

“bye, pretty.” he says with a playful grin over you.

you smiled before pouting, “please drive safely.”

his eyes soften after what you said and leans in again for another kiss. “i will, i promise.”

you nodded and a sulking jake came into your view.

“bye sweets.” he says half-heartedly that made you chuckle then insisted for a kiss just to ease his bad mood.

sunghoon rolls his eyes then grabbed his sulking friend by his uniform and drag him out of there. jake complains and started to argue, but jay helped to drag him away.

heeseung sighs and snaked his arm over your waist, “let’s go?”

you glance at him then nod your head once before going to his car. he opened the door like always and guides your inside.

“where are we going?”

he glances, “i’m taking you to our small vacation house by the lake.” he smiles.

you smiled back, “hmm. okay.”

“i called your mom and told her i’ll get you home a little late.”

“you called her?” you’re surprised he even remembered telling it to her.

“yes. i don’t want her to be worried or get you in trouble.” he says while eyes fixed at the road.

you pout your lips and looked at more with so much adoration. that was so sweet of him. you can feel your heart races and butterflies going crazy inside your stomach.

heesueng notices your stares and chuckles, “why?”

you shake your head, “its just you’re so sweet. it makes my heart melt.”

his smile grew wider, totally proud that he made you feel more special.

“anything for you.”

he said it will took a bit time to get there so you guys went to drive thru so he can buy some food you can eat while on the way. while on the way, you naturally fall into conversations, giggling and teasing each other.

it feels so good. heeseung used to be very intimidating for you. his serious demeanor and the way he seems so calm about everything just makes you feel agitated around him. but eventually, he starts to feel warm. like someone you can entrust yourself fully. they all feel that way, honestly. but heeseung’s the most reliable one, you must admit.

when he noticed your eyelids looking heavier, he chuckles and told you that you can sleep for a while.

“but how about you?” feeling a little bad that you’ll leave him driving.

he smiles assuringly, “i’ll be fine, angel.”

and with that you slowly dozed off. he lets you sleep until you’re already pulling over the driveway of their small vacation house. its not particularly small. its actually above average, but maybe for people like him who probably have many vacation houses, this is small for him.

“careful.” he mumbled and quickly reaches for your hand when the rocky path greets you.

the house is very cozy and simple. the clear view of the lake can be seen from the big glass windows. it was beautiful.

“you can go roam around while i set our food inside the fridge.” heeseung says then kisses you at the head before heading to the kitchen.

your eyes wanders around with curiosity and admiration. everything looks expensive. your eyes darted at the table filled with picture frames. with full curiosity, your feet trudges closer.

“wow...” was the first word that came out from your mouth. you can see pictures of their family. his dad and mom. him and his older brother.

“cutie!” you exclaimed when you saw heeseung’s baby picture. he does resembles him that you can tell right away that it was him.

your smiling ear to ear then fished your phone to take a snap of that pic. after getting satisfied with your shots, you slowly head over the small balcony where you can see the lake.

“wow, its so refreshing.” you mumble under your breath then leaned over the railings, letting the wind blow onto you.

you jolted when a pair of arms wrapped over your waist. “enjoying the view?”

“y-yes.”

heeseung kisses your cheeks then place his chin on your shoulder. the two of you admired the view while holding that position. the breeze is kind of cold, but heeseung’s hug kept you warm.

“do you want to walk around for a bit before we start dinner?” he asks then finally pulls away.

your eyes sparkles, “yes!”

he chuckles, finding you adorable then leans down. “give me a kiss first.”

your cheeks blushed then blinked twice. the two of your stares at each other for a while until you decided to give in to his request. a big satisfied smile spread across his handsome face then stand back up.

“let’s go.” and he intertwined your fingers.

looking at the lake in a much nearer distance gave you comfort and peace. you never thought watching the soft currence while holding heeseung’s warm hands can make your heart race.

“do you know when i started liking you?” heeseung breaks the silence.

you craned your neck to glance at him, eyes flashing curiosity. “when?”

he stares at your for a while before chuckling lightly then pinching your cheeks.

“you look adorable, but i have to resist. come on, try to guess.”

his compliment and how he said that using his softest tone soothes something in your heart. it made you blush instantly. despite all of it, you tried to guess like how he requested.

“when you started this thing with me?” that was the first one that came in your mind.

you barely remember any interaction with lee heeseung before all of this.

his brows narrowed, “this thing?” he sighs. “relationship, angel. that’s how you call it properly.” he says using a salty tone.

you chuckled and just nods as acknowledgement. he kept his stares, his eyes returning to being gentle and full of affection. a small genuine smile then appears over his lips.

heeseung’s out of words to describe how precious you are for him. he’s usually good on saying the things he wanted to say, but with you his thoughts are starting to be messed up. there’s just so much he wanted to say yet he don’t know where to start.

“it was on seventh grade.” he stated that made your lips gap.

7th grade? but you’re already on eleventh grade. still surprised, you cannot say anything.

“during that time i experienced my first loss. it may be nothing for a normal high-school kid, but for someone who comes from a perfectionist family who doesn’t accept defeat, it is a pretty big deal.”

instantly, you feel slightly bad. of course, you’ve heard about his family. they are pretty strict when it comes to him. maybe that’s why he’s very reserved because he has no time for failure. they’ve put too much pressure on him.

your free hand extends and travels from his arm towards his neck, up to his face. slowly, he relaxes to your touch.

“i remember feeling so worthless while staring blankly at my silver medal.” he resumes telling you the story.

“while i stare with despair at it, already imagining the disappointed look from my father, someone approaches me.” he stops.

“guess who?” he smirks. “i'll give you a clue.” then smirk grew wider.

“she’s very pretty and currently holding me softly right now.”

“me?” you wonder.

he nods. “you were pretty amazed at my silver medal.” he states, a big smile on his face now.

just the emotion he was showing was enough to tell how delighted he is by reminiscing that moment.

“i was actually annoyed at first because i thought you were mocking me.” he chuckled and you pout jokingly.

“hey, you’re so judgemental.”

he shrugs his shoulders. “can’t blame me, angel. i was still very introverted that time.”

“you’re still a little introvert now.”

he cocked his eyebrow and you did the same thing, staring back. that made him chuckle.

“okay, maybe you’re right.” he surrenders then drop a kiss on your forehead.

“and then what happened?” you curiously asked.

he smiled. “then i told you harshly that what’s so great for second place?” he continued.

you grow silent then tries hard to recall the memory.

“and then you said,” you glanced at him, eyes starting to water a bit.

“that there’s nothing wrong with being second place. that it doesn’t mean that you failed or you didn’t won. that instead of being sad, you should take it as a chance to become better. that it only means you still have a room to grow.” you finished it that made him smile.

“right...”

“hee...” eyes brimming with tears already. “that was years ago.” you stated, couldn’t believe that he started to get interested that time.

his eyes dropped at your intertwined hand and he raised it to gently place a kiss on top of it.

“hee...” you mumbled again, this time voice cracking a little.

he smiles, “sorry if we approached you the wrong way. we just really don’t know what to do.” his eyes sparkles, getting a bit teary as well.

“i-it’s okay... i didn’t know.”

he chuckles, “obviously. you’re too dense to notice.”

“hey!” you playfully shoot him glares that he just laughed at before leaning in to give you a kiss.

the two of you stared at each other affectionately, enough to communicate what your hearts wants to tell one another.

“i know that with all the responsibilities and the expectation from your parents, it felt heavy. like you feel that you can’t be flawed.” you started.

“but for me you’re just perfect the way you are. with your achievements and failures.” those words tugs his heartstrings, a tear escaping his eye.

the moment you two steps inside the vacation house, heeseung’s lips are attached to you. his kisses are gentle yet passionate. his hands holds you closely to his hot body.

his kisses moves from your lips, down to your chin then neck making sure to suck on your skin making you moan, fingers tangled on his hair.

he slid his arm over your legs then carries you towards the bedroom. he went back to your lips and kisses you once again.

he gently placed you on the bed hovering above you, his hand starting to remove your clothes. and you let him.

when he pulls away, you try to even chase him that made him chuckle.

“wait, angel. i’ll just remove my clothes.”

your eyes trailed down his now erect member.

“d-do you want me to...?”

he smiles then shakes his head, “no. today, its just about you.”

then he kisses you again, resuming on discarding every clothing that you still have on you. once fully unclothed, he positions himself in front of you. he started rubbing his head on your now wet core.

your brows narrowed and whimpers sexily.

“i’ll go in now, okay?” he glanced at you and a nod is all you gave him.

and while your eyes staring back at each other, heeseung pushes his dick inside. the stretch feels so good, his thick cock making you moan his name. it made him satisfied, hearing you getting comfortable on letting out your moans.

“that’s right, let me hear you.” he whispered then pinned your hand on the sides, intertwining his fingers to yours.

he lets you get more comfortable with having him inside and connects his lips on yours again, couldn’t get enough of your lips. his tongue pushes in, wanting to taste every insides of your mouth.

when he started to move, your head starts to get blank. nothing inside but the man above you and making you feel this good.

he slides in and out. starting with a slow pace then going faster. he thrusts deep and fast sending so much pleasure.

“heeseung...” you moaned after his lips moves away.

“i love you, angel.” he suddenly said that made your heart jumped. you didn’t have the chance to say anything as he leans in for a peck.

“i love you so damn much.” and then start thrusting even faster.

“i...” you pursed your lips, eyes shuts as the pleasure from his dick takes away your ability to think and speak properly.

“i..” you attempted again, opening your eyes so you can look at his pretty face.

“love you too...” you finally finished it.

heeseung’s heart thumped faster and he fucked you even harder. he smiles and leans in for another heated kiss. he loves and adore you.

he continues drilling his cock inside until he felt you tightening around him, indicating the approaching release. he kisses your chin.

“cumming for me, angel?”

you open your mouth, “yes. feel so good.”

he smirks, “i know. pussy so good for me.” and then he rut his cock deeper.

“i’m cumming too..” he announces, feeling the knot on his stomach.

“cum with me.” he orders then attach his lips before going rapidly.

not long after you came around heeseung then he filled you with his hot cum. he pulls away to look at your fucked out face, brushing off some hair. he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers, still going in and out but in a slower pace. riding both your highs.

you opened your eyes and reaches for his face. this time, you lift your head to give him a sweet kiss with a smile on your face. then you laid back down, staring lovingly at him.

his thrust starts to go faster again and a playful smirk spreads across his handsome face, some of his hairs sticks on his forehead due to sweat.

“round two, angel.” and then you let out a whimper from both pleasure and overstimulation.

the two of you spent the rest of the time just going for each other. heeseung making sure you felt how special you are for him.

lee heeseung is scared of failing. always aiming to be the best and to be perfect. he’s too obsessed on pleasing his parents to the point that he almost lose himself. but with you, he felt at ease. he felt safe and confident knowing that despite all his flaws and just being his true self, he’s still admirable.

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[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”