#...reality proceeds to shatter

[xerotiny99]

Game Night Gone Wrong // Our Precious #2

Game Night Gone Wrong (Our precious series #2)

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Warnings: smut, dom!yunho, soft dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, threesome, striptease, big dick yunho, masturbating, throat-fucking/blowjob, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation (Yunho's got a dirty mouth), praising/praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy slapping (yikes), hair pulling and a lot of teasing.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable with any of the mentioned tags. :) PS: this got too long, and I got too lazy to divide this into parts. PPS: the initial part of the smut might seem like it's nonconsensual, but it is completely consensual. Again, apologies for keeping this too long, don't let the word count intimidate you from the smutty goodness. ;)

Gist: you decide to make an appearance at this supposed game night Jongho was talking about. Unfortunately, you did not know how badly riled up you'd become after meeting his seven other flatmates which also includes Yunho; the man who sees it as a perfect opportunity to stay true to his word but there's someone else who also craves to touch you. Wait...is it only one person who's interested in you?

Word Count: 16,452

  Standing in front of the wooden door, the one moored with the numbers "405" in silver chrome, you're hesitant to raise your hand ring the doorbell. There you were, in front of Jongho's apartment, the one he shares with seven other men. The apparent loft was located a little farther from the university, situated on the east side of the city where the streets are abuzz. You've been to this part of the town, the quiet by day and busy by night kinda place—this area has a lot of interesting spots, one of them being Jongho's loft where eight people are residing.

Tiny tremors have already taken up the space under your skin, demurring your sense of self to the awaiting incredulity on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath in, letting out with a feigned smile as you bring out your phone to text the only man you knew inside. Technically, two of them. Your phone buzzes in your hand, even before you could send a text to your friend; having received a text, which reads 'are you coming over?' from Yunho, you brace yourself and heave out another sigh.

"Here goes nothing," you mumble to yourself, dipping your finger against the elevated button as a mellow ding rings inside, loud and clear, however.

You could hear muffled whispers coming from the other side. Anticipation had numbed a part of you, shattering the reality when the locks click, and the door flings open inside. The man who stood there was staring at you with a small smile, comforting. Though, you could only focus on how well-mannered he seemed, even from his body language—he was gorgeous.

He ushers you in, "oh, you must be Angel. I didn't expect you to be this early, actually."

"Jongho gave me the time..." you trail.

"Ah, then I believe he must've mixed up some of his timings. I apologise on his behalf."

"It's fine, to be honest."

You shrug and step inside; the vestibule has a shoe rack to the side, housing house slippers and other accessories. There's a coat rack right beside it where the ebony haired man hangs your coat after asking you to hand it to him. He picks out a pair of house slippers for you to wear, laying them on the floor as you take your time slipping out of your boots and into them. As he leads you further inside the loft, you notice everything about the place—even the man in front of you. His back faced you as you strode in, but you could gauge him to be as tall as Yunho, maybe a few inches shorter but that didn't matter much. He was clad in a beige dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top to expose bit of his tanned skin and pairing the shirt with dark brown pants. The ruly strands of his hair were permed, and framed his face neatly, even though a few of it laid flat on his forehead.

The narrow hallway leads you to the living room from the vestibule, where you find three men lounging leisurely on the couch and the floor. The living room was minimally decorated with the centre space being occupied by the couch and two chairs seemingly from the same set, a wooden coffee table was situated in front of the couch and a long cabinet was placed behind the couch. On top of the cabinet were few glass showpieces and magazines strewn on about, not making it seem crowded; your eyes stray past it and to the long sliding doors at the back, aligned in the same lines of the cabinet. The doors opened to a small balcony apparently, but the curtains were draped over to give you any sight of the evening outside. There was no television in the living room but oddly enough there were set of three hallways which ran along three different directions. You wondered where those took you to, even more so, you wondered how huge this loft actually was if it was housing eight people.

You focus back on the men, two of them were seated on the couch, close together and the other one sat down, between the couch and the coffee table, leaning against the couch as he scrolled through his phone. One of the two sitting on the couch has a broad yet teasing smile on his face, as he mumbles softly at the person to his right and the person to his right...he was actually breathtaking—he didn't try to hide the annoyance on his face as the other teased him on. However, the one sitting down on the floor was a little too lost in his world to even acknowledge your presence. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you played along anyway.

"Guys, Angel's here." The man leading you announces, capturing the attention of the others. "Be nice to her."

His warning tone makes the other three scoff, but unbothered by their response, he turns to you and offers you an even wider smile. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink..."

He's two steps ahead of you but then swivels on his heels and murmurs awkwardly, "I'm Seonghwa. If you need anything else, just let me know."

With that he's off, sauntering down another hallway to the right, merging with the open spaced kitchen. You take another deep breath, rummaging your eyes through the scene in front of you. The teasing guy has his hair pulled back in a half ponytail, a few streaks of blond stitched in between his black hair; he seems smug, and defiant, probably a delinquent.

"Hi," he initiates, a lazy smile on his face. "Come on, take a seat."

He shifts on the couch, purposely sliding closer to the man onto his right, as to make space for you on his left. "Only the best seat in Wooyoung's house for a pretty woman like you."

Listening to him, the other one scoffs, "tone down on your confidence, Woo."

"Flirting is all about confidence, Sangie," he keeps his teasing tone low and pinches the man's cheeks. "Right, Angel?"

"Uhhh..."

"Please ignore him, he's a little straightforward and hasn't learnt how to speak to women properly," the said man rolls his eyes, "on a serious note, please sit anywhere but next to him."

"Ugh, you always treat me like a sick joke..." Wooyoung sighs, dramatically throwing himself off to the other side of the couch. "I'm nothing but a man with a good heart."

"Your exes say otherwise, but okay."

As the two continue back and forth with their unsolicited burns and remarks, you decide to make yourself comfortable on the chair adjacent to the couch, seemingly belonging to the set of the seating arrangement. Two pair of eyes follow you as you sit down and pull the hem of your skirt down in an attempt to cover whatever it could. You were slightly regretting your dressing choices; you wore a black skirt which rode upto your mid thighs and paired it with a red crop top which was tucked in your skirt. Going a little overboard, you even wore thigh high socks, ending an inch below the skirt. You didn't bother with makeup and kept it light, having only applied light blush and peachy eyeshadow, and gloss on your lips.

The third man was least interested in meeting you or even getting the introductions started. You noticed how buff he was, not much compared to the man sitting on the couch right above him; but he was toned in places a man should be, and regrettably, his body was mostly hidden behind an oversized cloak of red sweatshirt and baggy sweats. Wooyoung had a casual approach to his outfit, wearing a black jacket with its zipper pulled all the way down till the middle of his chest, revealing a simple white graphic tee under it complementing the outfit with baggy sweatpants; on the other hand, the man next to him, having awe-inspiring features and a body worth drooling on, has black hair growing out till his shoulders, wore a black woven cardigan and a black tank top underneath, with black jogger shorts. Black was his shade, since his skin was stark and as fair as the snow, like Yunho.

"Jongho talks a lot about you," Wooyoung begins, grinning. "It's nice to meet you in person, finally. Name's Wooyoung and this is Yeosang, don't pay him any mind, he's a little vapid. And umm, that's Mingi. Hey, Mingi, why don't you introduce yourself."

He nods to the man sitting on the floor, who then actually takes a little effort to glance your way. Mingi grunts in return for your dazed smile, which already tells you that it's going to be hard to get along with him.

"Mingi, that's rude," Seonghwa chimes, keeping a smile on his face as he emerges out of the hallway with a tray of drinks in his hand, "introduce yourself properly."

The latter takes it as a warning and clears his throat, "Mingi, Song Mingi." he eyes you for a second before turning to Seonghwa, "that's the best you'd get from of me."

Seonghwa sighs, placing the tray of drinks on the coffee table and urging you to pick a glass, "I really apologise for his behaviour, but have a drink and try not to pay him any heed."

You reflect back with a smile and pick a glass filled with cola, "thank you."

"So, you're in Jongho's department, right?" Seonghwa asks, sitting next to Wooyoung. "We've heard a lot about you from him, actually. He's always gushing about you and how much he likes to hang out with you."

Okay, you didn't know the latter of that.

"I really didn't know that..." you mumble, taking a sip of cola. "We're friends. Right. We share same subject groups so, he's my only friend, to be honest. And he's enough so I didn't bother making any more friends."

"Hey, now you have us!" Wooyoung cheers, "any friend of Jongho's is our friend."

"Calm down, Wooyoung," Yeosang rolls his eyes, "for the better part of it, I'll have to agree with him. From now on, we're your friends too. So, don't hesitate."

Seonghwa chirps, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he talks, "you're in your sophomore year, right?

"Final semester," you mutter, "in few months I'll be in my junior year. Just as Jongho."

Seonghwa nods, "I hope you're not feeling uncomfortable with us; all these unfamiliar faces..."

"I'm good, actually." You reassure and Wooyoung adds, "I think I have seen you around the campus, so not an unfamiliar face to take a sight of—maybe you've seen me around too, I am a culinary major."

Even though you wouldn't admit it to yourself, or them, you had long forgotten about the awkwardness without Jongho being here. And, deeming Wooyoung as a culinary major was something you probably never even considered in your wildest dreams. One by one, after Wooyoung's little introduction, the others take his lead and talk about themselves.

"I'm a college dropout," Yeosang begins, "and now I'm a freelancer. I mostly do graphic design and illustration."

You nod, intently listening to them.

"I graduated last year." Seonghwa says, "now, I work full time as a software designer for a small startup company."

Intriguing.

There was something about Seonghwa you found alluringly interesting, like maybe it was the way he spoke to you, or the way he engaged with the other guys. Expectantly, you glance over at Mingi, hoping, he too, would have something to say or add to the discussion. Everyone's eyes are on him, expecting.

Mingi croons his neck up to meet your eyes, and he sighs, "I'm a dance major and I graduate soon."

So... similar to Yunho?

You see him lock his phone and stuff it into the pocket of his sweatpants, not uttering a word further; Seonghwa clears his throat and casts a longing gaze at the front door.

"Others will be here soon," he says, grabbing a glass of sprite from the tray. "I actually sent Jongho and San out to get us some beers, there's only one six pack left in the fridge. And I also did not expect you to come early." he was informing you of Jongho's whereabouts, "Hongjoong and Yunho are usually the late ones because of their work."

At the mention of Yunho, your stomach lurches and your mind recalls to the night you two had lost yourself in the heat of the moment—you were hiding it pretty well, at least, you thought you were. There's nothing trapped between your teeth, there's no evident clues to that night for anyone to know; let alone anyone would doubt you two had interacted before. Though, your heart claims to have an intense anticipation for this night to unfold, considering Yunho had warned you that he would fuck you senseless if you showed up tonight. And here you were...

"Beer gets us going," Wooyoung comments, eyeing Yeosang. "But this one needs wine."

"How is that relevant in this context?" the latter deadpans, causing Mingi to chuckle softly, "he's intending to say you've got an expensive taste, Sangie."

Yeosang pouts, "wine tastes better than beer."

"I'd drink to that," Seonghwa laughs along, raising his glass and looking at you, "I hope you're not a lightweight. Unless you don't drink at all."

"I do. Occasionally." you grimace at the memory sitting far back in your head, the first time you drank alcohol (beer) wasn't really worth it. "I am not so fond of alcohol, though. Who says you need to have alcohol to have fun?"

"I do," Wooyoung deadpans.

"No one asked you—"

Yeosang grows silent in his words upon hearing the lock to the front door rattle; soon, it's being pushed inside with a heavy voice—which you could never forget—grumbling to someone. The first person to walk in the living room is a blue haired man, a lot shorter than Yunho, carrying a leather laptop bag and a roll of red fabric in his hand. He somehow manages to stumble across the floor to the long dining table in front of the kitchen—dumping the stuff on top of the table, he slumps himself on the chair and sighs. Yunho is the second person to walk inside, followed by Jongho and other man with sharp eyes and features.

"I told you that man was weird!" the one with sharp eyes groans, and Yunho sighs, "but you didn't have to say that right to his face, did you now, Sannie?"

"If we hadn't made a sound, it would've gotten weirder," Jongho adds, walking in with a couple of polythene bags crinkling in his hands.

"He almost licked my neck!" the other—apparently named Sannie or to your understanding, San as Seonghwa mentioned it before, groans, "that's why I never take the elevator."

"I only suggested 'cause we had stuff to carry." Jongho raises his hands to show him the bags he carried in them. "I didn't think Mr. Yoshida would follow us in."

"Guys, drop it," the blue haired man tuts from the table, raising his head to meet your eyes, "we've got a guest, might as well show her a little respect."

He smiles at you before getting up from his chair; and that's when the others' heads turn toward you. Jongho grins wide, Yunho smirks, and San appears to have wide eyes and rounded lips, confused as if.

"Angel!" Jongho squeals, taking tiny hop-like steps toward you; his arms open wide as to hug you.

Placing your glass back on the tray, you find yourself rushing to him to get his hug. You round the coffee table from the other side as Mingi sat still on the couch's side and scoffed at your excitement to hug your friend. You and him are going to have problems getting along if you ever decide to hang out with the guys in the future. Seamlessly, you wrap your arms around Jongho's chest as he somehow manages to return the embrace with the bags in his hands.

"You made it!" he mumbles, pulling back.

"She was early," Seonghwa quips, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. "You gave her the wrong time, baby bear."

"Hmm, I really apologise," he pouts, backing away from you and eventually tiptoeing to the kitchen, you follow him, a smile on your face.

"It's okay, baby bear," you tease him only to get a reaction out of him. And he groans, "that name isn't sticking. Please."

You shake your head, as you lean over the kitchen island and watch him place the bags on top of it. The polythene bags crinkle as he keeps them down and proceeds to take out their contents; there's chinese takeout in two of the bags, and the other one had a six pack. You're about to initiate a conversation with Jongho until you're interrupted by a sleek yet hoarse voice.

"So, you're Angel..." a soft voice resounds from behind you and when you turn, you find the blue haired man smiling at you, "I'm Hongjoong and I believe you've heard this from everyone here, but Jongho can't shut up about you."

You glance at Jongho. "Awww..."

"Ahhh, please. Stop it!" he whines louder, blushing.

"What? It's the truth." Hongjoong grins, "I'll freshen up while the others set up everything. Usually our game nights happen much later in the night. We made an exception for you 'cause this one's been nagging us for days now about inviting you."

He offers you a gentle smile before disappearing down the hallway leading to the left of the kitchen; his stringent yet relaxed posture had an imposed meaning behind his personality. From the way body language seemed more pronounced in the royal blue suit he adorned himself in and the way he hushed others, you could tell he was a domineering man. Someone whose authoritativeness would bring any woman down to her knees—you were thinking too much. Or were you really?

The desolate kitchen is rejoiced with Seonghwa's harmless little scolds directed at Jongho, but before you could comprehend any of their tiff, an arm snakes around your waist, with a presence warming up your side.

"Hey, Angel," his deep voice was like nectar, dripping in your ears and snaring your mind to his will. "Glad you could make it. Good choice. Good decision. And good thinking..." his words trail off to a whisper as he leans near your ear, "...but keeping my word—oh wait—keeping my promise, I'm going to keep you to myself for this night. I hope you're prepared for that."

His arm skims down your waist, fingers fluttering below and under your skirt as his tickling touches caress your inner thighs. That's it. He doesn't inch his hand closer to your aroused cunt; you were wet, you knew—his words were riling you up with every ounce of strength in them. In retrospect, you were playing out the night in your head where he'd be fucking you the way he wants to, the way he promises to.

Clasping your bottom lip with your teeth, you try to squeeze your thighs, to get that extra little friction to feel something (at least). Though, it had slipped your mind that his hand was still holding onto one of your thighs; catching up on your intentions, he lightly smacks your inner thigh and draws out a yelp from your lips. Your cunt clenches around nothing, feeling the heated rumble in your chest and the exasperated urge to have him stuffed in you.

The sound you let out attracted the squabbling pair; they cast their eyes on you, weary and dubious, silently judging the interaction between you two. You could call it your luck, but the two weren't able to get a view of what was happening behind the kitchen island.

"Are you alright, Angel?" Yunho feigns his concern, taking a small step away from you.

"Feeling under the weather?" Jongho urges, lips pouting slightly. "Do you want to leave...?"

"I'm okay," you voice out, taking a deep breath. "Yunho was talking about how peaches bruise easily and I just happened to gasp, dramatically."

"No double entendres, right Yun?" Seonghwa jokes and Yunho nods his head, "really, nothing of the sort. Just a casual conversation."

He clears his throat, "By any means, I'll take your leave. I need to freshen up and change my clothes. Jongho, go help the others set the living room."

With a ribbing curve stretching on his lips, Yunho excuses himself and saunters away from you down the hallway on the right. The moment he's out of your eyesight, Jongho slides next to you, purposely bumping into your hips as he does. Meanwhile, Seonghwa picks out the takeout containers and other necessities before leaving the two of you in the kitchen.

"Angel," Jongho murmurs, "are you trying to impress someone."

He's smug.

You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he leans over to taunt you. "Shut up! Why would I need to impress any of your flatmates?"

"The way you're dressed, I guess," he shrugs, staring at you from top to bottom, "thigh high socks, that skirt, that top. Modest make-up. You wouldn't take this much effort if you weren't trying to impress someone."

"Hmm...so, who is it?" he nudges your arm, his lips pressed together—a line struck with jealousy, probably.

"Jongho, you're getting the wrong idea, why would I really want to impress any of the guys I barely know?" You pout, glancing at him for a hot second before reverting back to staring down at your fingers as you tapped them away on the island counter.

"I don't know, for starters they're all good looking." he turns on his feet and leans against the countertop, "maybe you're seeking out a relationship with someone. Either it's been too long since you've gotten laid or someone here has intrigued you enough to date them."

"Jongho..."

He interrupts, "is it Yunho?"

"What?"

"Do you like Yu—"

"—living room has been...am I interrupting something?" Seonghwa questions, stopping a few steps short from the two of you.

"Oh, it's nothing," Jongho murmurs, sounding a little bitter. "We were discussing a few things related to our classes."

Seonghwa nods and you stifle a silly whine, the stupefying urge to confront Jongho about his nonchalant sneer at your outfit. The older picks up a few more things from the kitchen before heading out; two of you follow him to the living room, with Jongho not uttering a single word. Sighing to yourself, you find the coffee table in the living room was pushed to a side, leaving the centre carpeted space to be occupied. Others were already sitting in a circle, eating out of the Chinese takeout containers —you lurk behind a little as the sitting arrangements played out. Jongho clears his throat and sits next to Mingi, leaning back against the couch where Seonghwa makes himself comfortable. Wooyoung, Yeosang and San, they sat opposite to the couch, slumping themselves against the coffee table as support.

You take a deep breath, put on a frail smile as you sit down next to San on the lush and soft carpet; the man offers you a dimpled smile and hands you a takeout container along with chopsticks and a bottle of beer. Helplessly, you eye Jongho from the corner of your vision, as he too starts guzzling down food from his own container. Sitting next to Jongho would have made either of you uncomfortable since the harmless squabble between you two had been left unresolved. You were doing it out of spite, however.

"So, what are we playing tonight?" Yeosang pipes in, gazing around and pointing his stained chopsticks at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa shrugs, "we'll keep it light. Nothing which strains Angel's ease or brings her discomfort."

"Damn," Wooyoung winces, "I was about suggest strip-uno."

San rolls his eyes, glaring at the said man—slowly chewing the bite of chicken in his mouth, "I sometimes wonder how your brain functions."

"It probably doesn't," Jongho adds, earning a whine from the latter. "Suggest something else."

"How about strip-monopoly?" Wooyoung suggests, eyebrow twitching in a goading manner.

"Anything which has strip in it will be rebuked; so, something else has to work," Seonghwa utters with annoyance, fixing himself a container of noodles.

"To be fair, I don't have any problem playing 'strip' games," you shyly enunciate, not meeting anyone's gazes on you. "In all honesty, it sounds fun. And what's the worst that could happen?"

You were joking. In your mind you were considering all worst possible scenarios where things could wrong; you could be taken advantage of and made to strip all the way, you could lose the remaining of your dignity to Yunho in case you go all bare, or—there's no or here, it's too risky to play these games with them.

"We understand your perspective, darling. But we're men and for a woman to engage herself in those kind of games with us is both unethical and unfair," Hongjoong's voice gushes through, offering your spine a dainty tingle. "We will keep it light, and hearty, as Seonghwa said."

He has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black sweatpants; on top he wears a tank top, exposing his defined arms, not too buff or too lean. The deep cut on his neckline gives you a small glimpse of his chest, eventually delighting you with an accidental nip-slip. It happens again as he carefully sits next to Seonghwa, making sure he doesn't hurt Jongho or Mingi who were leaning against the front of the couch. He runs his hand through his freshly washed hair, sighing out a string of incoherent words as he glances at the man next to him. Seonghwa is quick enough to hand him his share food and as he eats, his eyes occasionally fleet over to you.

"If you bend the rules of your game night for me, then how is that fair and ethical?" you tilt your head to a side, pouting at him. "I'm comfortable with whatever, so I think we should not waste any more time."

Seonghwa chuckles and Hongjoong breaks out into a mischievous smile, keeping his stare on you. "Alright then, we'll play strip-uno as Wooyoung initially suggested."

Darkness swirled in Hongjoong's eyes, the kind of ambiguity which dominates—something like the predator forcing its prey into submission. You were weak already, staring and catching up on the minute details sketched in his eyes, and his lips. Hongjoong had an authority, a commanding aura which could force any one into submission. You were no stranger to these kind of men, and for some reason, you were hella attracted to them.

"Sure," Wooyoung sleazes, smirking. He keeps the takeout to a side, and leans back onto the coffee table to grab what seems to be a deck of cards. "I had already picked these out. And to explain the rules," he trails off, eyeing everyone and shuffling the cards. "Don't worry, Angel. They're quite easy to understand."

Hongjoong begins, "there are less severe penalties for when you fail to match the colour of the cards in the discard pile, or when you draw a card from the draw pile."

"There's a strip penalty when the person before you throws a draw two or draw four in," San says from next to you, "you have to take a shot when you get a wild card from the person before you. And as Hongjoong said, the less severe penalties are truth or dare, and kiss a player, with tongue."

You reel back, repeating his words in your mind, "kiss a player, you guys are okay kissing each other?"

"I've frenched all of them if you're wondering, except for Yunho because I'm not his 'type'." Wooyoung says, passing two bottles of beer to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, "besides, we all have different sexual preferences. It doesn't matter to us."

You nod along, noticing how quiet Mingi had been from the start. He has a problem with you, doesn't he? You heave out a sigh and grin, "alrighty. I understood the rules, so can we start?"

"Aww, are you forgetting about me, Angel?" Yunho's voice ridicules you, followed by his footsteps as he sits next to you. "I'm hurt," he pouts, taking his food container from San as Wooyoung passes it to him. "I'm devastated, really. I hold no significance to you, do I?"

You look at him, cheeks heating up instantly when you catch him staring back at you smugly; the outfit he changed into was far more fitting to his personality than the one he had before. He was wearing a matching red hoodie with Mingi, and black jogger shorts. You notice how well his blue hair contrasted with the hoodie, finding it cute the way some of his strands kissed the collars and hid beneath the hood. His skin was flushed, yet as fair as snow—and his scent was driving you wild. A miasma of musk, cinnamon and vanilla. You were losing your mind sitting next to him.

Though, when you come back to your senses, you realise he's being dramatic. Overly dramatic. You roll your eyes and continue eating, shaking your head as a sly smile stretches your lips. Jongho catches up on your interaction with him, side eyeing you while acknowledging nothing.

"There's too many of you, it's hard to keep up with everyone," you snide at Yunho, your smirk widening. "So, excuse me if I tend to forget 'bout some of you."

"Oh Angel, I'm quite unforgettable, you know," Yunho jeers, sneakily pinching your waist. He leans closer to your ear, whispering under his breath, "but sadly you'll have to wait the night until I show how you much of an exceptional man I am."

"Keep dreaming..." you lean toward him and murmur, "you're really confident in your skills, aren't you? Can't wait to prove you wrong."

"I think I've already proven myself to you the night you—"

"—ahem. I think we should start with the game." Mingi clears his throat, purposely keeping it loud enough for the two of you to pull apart. "I don't know about Yunho, but I've got an early class tomorrow."

"Oh come on, Mingi," Yunho whines, "I'm making a benign effort to be friends with Angel. She seems cool."

Jongho begins, rolling his eyes, "oh, she is. I've already narrated of her tales to you."

Was he sarcastic? You couldn't tell.

Hongjoong sighs, his voice booming, "enough, I can't go on a day without either of you jabbering at each other." Staring at Wooyoung, he calls out, "just deal the cards, Woo."

Soon the cards are dealt and each of you receive seven cards; the games go on, filled with whines, groans, cheers and derisive comments. In the first few rounds, you lose your socks, lucky. Jongho loses his sweatshirt, but he wore a full sleeved shirt under it; Wooyoung was only in his boxers, and you knew Yeosang and Mingi had it planned all along. San, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were borderline drunk to the number of shots they were forced to take. Mingi and Yunho were fully dressed, and neither too drunk because of the shots—although Yunho kept leaning over to your side to whisper filthy things in your ear. You were mostly on guard against him, praying to your own soul to keep San from listening to any of his coquettish remarks.

The current round you were stuck in was supposedly the last round of the night according to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Surprisingly, everyone agreed to their judgement and no one riposted against them. It shows how influential those two were, and you found that extremely hot. You had two cards in your hand, all of them predicting your victory—that is only if San doesn't snitch on you and makes it hard for you to win. In all likelihood, everyone around you wants you to lose, that's how the game works.

You hold your breath, watching San take his turn after Wooyoung, and all hell comes crashing down onto you when he flicks a draw two on the discarded pile.

Oh no.

You have to strip.

He was saving his best card for the last, which makes his attempt at drawing more cards have a lot more sense. You sigh, dropping your cards down and slouching your shoulders.

"Strip, Angel," Yunho rejoices, nudging your shoulder with his.

"Yes, strip, strip, strip, strip..." Wooyoung chants and the others follow him, except for Mingi, Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Seonghwa clears his throat, silencing everyone. "You don't have to if you're uncomfortable, Angel."

You shake your head, all the alcohol (especially, the vodka and beer) buzzing in your mind and coerced you to do the unthinkable. You find the hem of your crop top, fingers pinching at the very edge; with a ribald smile on your face, you pull your top over your head and fling it across towards Jongho. He catches it in one of his hands, as his other hand held onto a bottle of beer. These were the consequences of you not keeping a count of how many beers you had guzzled while playing and interacting with San. If your hazy memory serves you right, then San is a bartender and thanks to him showing you how to drink beer and vodka, you were woozy.

Some of the guys whistle at your exposed chest, while some avert their eyes and cover them with the palm of their hand. Yunho wasn't one of the guys to turn a blind eye on you; he stared. Being taller than you gave him an advantage at peeking over your shoulder and since you were slouched, the cups of your bra dangled slightly off—exposing a lot of your deal than you thought. He gulped lightly upon drinking in your curves, and the way your lacy bra hugged your tits—he was drooling at the sight, imagining what it would be like to grope and hold them. They actually seemed perfect for his hands—perfect to knead and suck.

"Angel is a wild one," Wooyoung mumbles lowly, looking away in haste as he realises he had been staring. "Wilder than me, to be honest."

"What?" you shrug, "a draw two means strip. I stripped."

"Yes, but we didn't think you'd actually do it," Jongho hisses through his gritted teeth, crawling the space across to drape his sweatshirt over you.

To your undivided attention, and bewilderment, Jongho belonged to the ones who were caught staring at you; which also included San, and Mingi.

Yunho clicks his tongue, "I certainly did not expect that, certainly did not."

Jongho scoffs at Yunho's reaction and returns back to his place, "no one expected that."

You pout, tugging the ends of Jongho's sweatshirt over your head to cover yourself. "It was fun, though."

You were starting to think it was alcohol talking in your stead.

"Alright, alright," Hongjoong draws everyone's attention, even yours, "like I said, this was supposedly the last round, so let's call it a night. And, Angel," he pauses, perusing your tipsy face, "I think you should stay the night, you're inebriate, regardless not a lot to misguide yourself to your dorm room alone at night. But it's not safe for you to leave in your current state of mind. So, please spend the night here."

You wanted to protest, but then you realised you stayed outside way past the timings of your dormitories, meaning, you'll have to spend the night here and somehow manage to sneak in tomorrow morning.

"Okay..." you nod.

Seonghwa adds, "you can sleep in my bedroom, it has a joint bathroom. Plus it is spacious and has a comfortable bed." he gets up from the couch, keeping his empty bottle of beer down on the carpet, "come on, I'll show you to my room."

You nod again, stumbling up on your feet as you take small strides toward him.

"Okay, whose duty is it to clean tonight?" you hear Hongjoong ask, followed by Mingi's and San's groans. He continues, "clean up before you go to bed, lads. Good night."

A couple of whines resound from behind you as Seonghwa leads you down the hallway to his bedroom. The wooden door has a board hung on it, which reads 'do not disturb' with a much tinier font written below it, 'knock twice in case of emergency'. It makes you wonder of the shenanigans which have occurred in this house. The wooden door opens smoothly inside and you're ushered inside a very neat and clean room.

"I did not get much time to clean around after coming back from work," he apologises, leading you further in.

You did not understand why he was apologising, his room was spotless with no unnecessary mess around. Rummaging your curious eyes through his room, you notice a lot of things; there's a window on the wall opposite to the entrance overlooking the Main Street, a queen size bed was pushed to the side of the room, and right below the window was a small desk with his MacBook on top alongside few other things arranged in a precise order. As said, there was a door to the left, where the bathroom was situated. Overall, the room was elegant with debonair decorations and furniture—nothing about it foretold you it was a man's room.

"To be fair, I'd be put to shame if you saw my dorm room." Muttering under your breath, you slump on the bed and watch Seonghwa's lips twitch into a smile.

"It's okay," he whispers, heading to his closet, which was adjacently placed to the bed. "I understand, you're a full time college student—trust me, my room used to be a mess too. It can't be that bad. Right?"

You grumble and throw yourself back on the mattress, it sinks to your weight and relaxes every muscle of your body. "I think I should call you over sometime. You could see it for yourself. Maybe, help me clean."

"Wouldn't mind that," he chuckles, his footsteps receding to you. "Here, change into something comfortable."

Sitting up straighter, you watch him hand you an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. "There was no need for this."

"And there is no need for your formalities," he offers you a toothy grin. "Sleep wearing something light. I don't think your current outfit is all that comfortable."

"Alright." you mumble, waiting for him to take your leave before you could change.

"Sleep well," he sings, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes as he does.

Turning on his heel he's almost out through the door when you ask, "where will you be sleeping? The couch? I'm sorry for that..."

"Couch? No. That place is a little ill-at-ease," he laughs, "but, I'll be sleeping with Hongjoong, he's got a bigger bed. And, you don't have to be sorry. What kind of men we'd be if we let you go to your dorms at the dead of night. Right? It's better if you stay and leave in the morning, I'll have Jongho or someone drop you off."

You nod along, butterflies in your stomach coming alive to his words. Chivalry wasn't dead, after all. But the thought of you spending the night here, with Yunho fixated on fucking you, might be the most exhilarating thing ever. Although, you were starting to catch those same fuzzy feelings for Seonghwa—thinking about the kind of man he'd be in bed. The sweet one, showering you with praises, being a soft dom, and all other things which you shouldn't be thinking about him.

"Good night, Angel."

He snaps you out of your dreams, bringing you to the reality.

"Good night, Seonghwa."

A smile fleets behind on your face when he leaves. The door closes with a soft thud, and you sigh, preparing yourself to change into the clothes he gave you. Quickly, you slip out of clothes and into the oversized shirt; for some reason you didn't feel the need to wear the shorts. Actually, the reasons were pretty obvious. Folding your clothes, you keep them on the desk and lay back in the bed. You heave out another breath and decide to surf through the internet, checking your socials, and other things. You're too dazed reading your department's group chat to even hear the sound of a knock on your door for the first time. When the knocks sound for the second time, even louder than before, you flinch and your phone slips off your grip; rolling your eyes as your heart tries to compose itself from the little jumpscare, you hop off the bed and saunter to the door to answer it.

You open the door a slit, only for it to be pushed aside by a burly man to make his way in. It was Yunho, you knew it from the all-too-familiar sounding grunt as you're pushed against the door in a blink of an eye. Trapped, he places one hand on your waist and the other next to your face, pressing his body with yours and forcing you back into the door.

"I told you, didn't I?" he murmurs leaning in, his breath tickles your face as he continues, "I said I'd be true to my words and here I am."

You close your eyes for a hot second, wanting to compose the fire flamed in your heart by his words; most precisely, by his darkened eyes staring right into your soul.

"Never doubted you," you grin, sliding your hands along his back and to his neck. Wrapping them around, you pull yourself close, your lips hovering a few whispers from his. "But the thing is, are you going to do what you intended on doing from the moment we started this, with all your flatmates around? Aren't you worried they might hear us?"

"I couldn't care any less about them," he smirks, brushing his lips against yours, "are you trying to get out of this? You were the one to start it, princess."

His voice is low, as he continues, "the shameless teasing with this raunchy outfit and the stripping, plus the unwanted provocation...do I need to say anything more?"

Shaking your head, you nudge your lips to touch his; he was taken off guard at first, but the moment he realised what you were doing, he grew wild. An untamed kiss broke out between you two, lips lapping and sucking in an unquenched desire. Both of his hands tug at your waist, causing your shirt to lift up slightly.

He mumbles against your lips but doesn't break the kiss. "Only a tee? God, you are such a tease."

And he's diving back into the kiss. It started off so innocent with only a mere touch, delicate yet hungry in way; but you didn't think it'd escalate so quickly into a pining war between your tongues. His warm tongue rubbed with yours, tackling it down to reach down your throat. You moan, not only because of the fact that his tongue was indisputably plunging down your throat, but also because he had traced one of his hands down your waist to the dainty band of your panties. Feeling him smirk against your lips, your stomach ties itself in a knot, realising he was about to something very odious to arouse you. Though, the kiss had already made you wet, your slick soaking into your panties.

One finger slips past the waistband, softly snapping it as he drags to your wet slit; you were melting in the heat his mouth offered, his tongue showing no signs of stopping at what it was doing. You were breathless, you wanted air, you wanted to breathe and peruse his flushed face. Seemingly suffocating, you tilt your head slightly behind to take a deep breath, your lungs filling in with much needed air—while he shows you his conceited smile, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure he got after abusing your mouth.

"Tired already?" he bites his lower lip, rubbing his long finger along your slit and you moan, not registering what he says next. "This is just the beginning, princess."

He buries his head in your neck, lips scattering kitten like kisses on your skin and trailing further down your collarbones. The yearning was taking you to a different level of desperate, his ravenous touches were working so well to rile you up and you were so sure you could come undone with only his middle finger thrusting into your cunt. In your hazy mind you were lost, closing your eyes, you throw your head back against the door and try to breathe normally—because his sleek finger was stroking your slit vigorously.

This was maddening. And you weren't holding back. "Fuck, Yunho...just fuck me already. Please."

You whimper as the walls of your cunt clench around nothing in utter torment while his middle finger only caressed your slit and nothing else.

"No, princess. Nuh-uh," he hisses, now pressing his thumb on your clit and moving it in a circular motion. "Not so fast. You won't be getting anything more than this—fuck—fuck—" he grunts in his own anguish, "—a dirty slut like you should be punished for wanting everyone's attention on you. Isn't that—fuck, isn't that why you took your top off, hmm? For everyone to fucking take a look, for them to drool on your perky little tits."

You whine, stuttering, "no—no—I only—I only did it because—because those were the rules—fuck, Yunho...just, please—please..."

Mind fogging with unlikely possibilities of him actually giving it to you, made your tongue heavy. You couldn't form sentences in your head, let alone voice them for yourself.

"So, so, so hopeless."

Yunho clicks his tongue, using his other hand to lift the loosely hanging tee up to your chest; his hand quickly cups one of your tits and eventually, he's groping it with his fingers digging in your flesh. His mouth sucks beautiful bruises along your neck, while his finger and thumb keep working on your wet cunt.

"God, I caught Jongho and Mingi staring at these taut little things," he murmurs, licking your skin as he keeps sucking purple bruises, "and I gotta say, I wasn't too fond of it—fond of their eyes lurking anywhere near you. Just thinking about it—ugh—can't even get myself to think about it."

"I didn't—" you groan, "—I didn't think you'd be the jealous type—fuck!"

All air is knocked out of your lungs as soon as he lets his middle finger slip into your cunt; your walls squelch, causing more of your juices to drip down your thighs.

"Oh, you really don't know me yet," he slyly whispers, keeping the pace of his finger teasingly slow inside you.

Detaching his lips from your neck, he stares down at you with a lilting smirk, one ever so gravely etched in a nettlesome curve. His hazel eyes show a spark of ardour, seemingly growing into a soft murmur of feral desires. You crack your eyes open, fluttering your lids heavily as the pleasure of his finger drives you to your edge; you were getting weak in your knees—your body could go limp any moment if he continues to tease your cunt this slow. Sliding your hands down his neck, you hold onto his shoulders and heave out a breath, chaotic and painful.

"Would you like to know me better, princess?" he breathes his words out, sneering as he glances down at his finger thrusting in and out of you. "...I'm sure we'd get along just fine."

"I don't doubt that either," you smirk at him, impatiently waiting for him to add another finger in you.

When you knew, he wasn't going to do anything more than finger your cunt teasingly, you start bucking your hips into his hands, hoping it'd make his finger plunge deep into you. The squelch of your walls is loud this time, resonating in the empty room as it soon merges with his chuckle. Yunho draws in an amusing breath, tittering at your messed up persona, and desperation.

He clicks his tongue, bringing his finger out of you altogether; the emptiness was lot worse than having only one of his sleek finger in. Maybe, you shouldn't have been so desperate for him. You couldn't blame yourself; it was evident from that night itself that you yearned for him, all of him. Keeping his stare on you, he brings his finger, the one which was plunging deep into your cunt, close to his mouth and darts his tongue out. His middle finger glistens with your juices around it, so unbelievably fucking attractive but nothing prepared you for what he did next; he licked and lapped his tongue all over his finger, humming in satisfaction as he tastes you.

"Sweet and salty, just like my little slut," he smirks, teeth trapping his bottom lip in, "can't wait to fuck that cunt with my tongue—it'd be fucking perfect."

You don't make a sound, simply because his words were giving you a sensory whiplash and depriving you from any fraction of sanity at all. He lets his other hand slip from your chest, tracing it to your neck to grab your throat. His fingers dug in the sides, leaving faint bruises as he brought you close to him; in a blink of an eye, his lips were back on yours, tasting your desperation and teasing your lower lip with a sharp tug of his teeth.

"Yun..." you murmur against his lips, absorbing the vibrations of his chuckle as he pulls back to address, "princess, you are not getting me so easily. I can play hard to get, and I always have."

You are a little annoyed by his attitude, his conceited slapdash personality was an antithetical factor to his charisma and chivalry. He shakes his head, in disbelief, as if he had read your mind when you were thinking about his pomposity.

Clicking his tongue, he pecks your lips, "no, princess, I'm not conceited. I'm just...returning the favour."

You're muddled, not comprehending what he was hinting at. And considering that, he slightly rolls his eyes, while his other hand ghosts over your lower abdomen and grabs the waistband of your panties. Not giving you any sign of his intentions, he uses his mere strength to pull the panties up your waist. The material of your lacy panty chafes with your wet folds as he pulls and continues to do so until you're writhing with tickles on your spine.

"Fuck—that feels good, but—I want you." you mewl in such ache, craving everything of him, "I need you."

"Like, I said, I'm returning the favour, princess," he softly lets out a laugh, stroking his thumb along your windpipe, "consider this a bestowal of all the pleasure you can get from me. Because..."

His teasing tone is back, infuriating you—tears well in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as you whimper, "because...?"

"Because I can't let a slut like you get what she wants by deftly ribbing me in front of my flatmates," he states, his hold on your throat tightening, while he pulls your panties further up.

The overbearing sensation of your panties rolling up and slotting into your wet slit makes your skin crawl in pleasure. It was unbearable at this point, the rigorous friction of the material and your soaked cunt.

"I need to teach my whore a lesson, don't I? And that's what she's going to get tonight. A punishment for provoking me in front of my flatmates and being an attention whore," he smiles haughtily, pulling himself back completely before stepping away from you.

His warmth was gone, so was his touch which drove you away into your insanity, and all you were left with was an abysmal hollowness full of chagrin and hankering. Taking another step back, he shrugs while you lean back against the door to recollect your shattered pieces—you were trying to relax yourself after all that he had done to make your pussy drip uncontrollably.

"My precious little princess should try to get some sleep for the night," he smiles, coming close to you again but only to caress your cheek with his thumb. "Trust me, princess, my package will be worth the wait."

"Good night, Angel."

He presses his lips lightly to your cheek and pushes you carefully to the side to leave the room. The moment he dashes out the room, you wait for his footsteps to quiet down the hallway before you're sliding down against the door and groaning out in frustration as you lay on the floor like a crumpled paper. This was too much! Too much! You do remember him mentioning he was a tease from your night of sexting, but you didn't believe him—not until he was teasing you to hell and back. You could consider this as borderline torture which in turn was making you wonder if his dick was really worth all this torment.

Although, as he left the room, you caught a glimpse of his cock straining against his jogger shorts—the outline was clear, and that clarity was enough to push you back in your delusions and fantasises. Regardless, it also meant how badly you had him riled too, you got him hard, got him to masturbate before he goes to bed—it was obvious he would jerk off to your thoughts, and that passing notion was undoubtedly making you even wetter. You heave out a sigh as you pick yourself up and carry your trembling body to the edge of the bed. Settling down comfortably with your legs open wide, you pull the hem of your shirt and trap it between your teeth. Exposed, and free from the shirt, you drag one of your hands down your chest, purposely pushing the cups of your bra aside to let your tits hang outside. Your mind rutted with lascivious thoughts of Yunho playing with your tits, cupping them, groping them, kneading them, all the things you wanted him to do, maybe a little more which would cause your dignity to falter in front of him.

You moan out loud, but it's muffled by the shirt in your mouth; you were senselessly pinching your nipple, all while tracing your other hand to your cunt. Pushing the panties (now ruined by your arousal) to a side, you ghost your fingers over your clit, gradually touching your swollen bud to feel the ecstasy take over you. Throwing your head back to the sensation, you let out a whimper; soon, the image of Yunho licking his middle finger flashes in your mind, making you moan again. You do what he was doing a minute prior, stroke the length of your own middle finger along your slit. Your mouth stays open this time instead, but your shirt doesn't roll all the way down because your hand, playing with your tits, obstructed it from doing so.

Somehow, in the darker light of your mind, you're fixated on that burning scenario of Yunho rubbing his tongue along his finger to rid it of your juices. At first, you wonder, and then glimmer in joy, nevertheless that fleeting moment is cut short when you realise an odd detail about him. If his middle finger was that long, then how huge would his cock be? That cascading thought itself makes you shiver, and you start rubbing yourself faster; not caring if the sounds you made were discernible and audible to the others in the apartment. Seemingly, your noises were growing louder, and you were getting closer to your edge. Dropping your hand from your chest to your side, you fist your hand into the sheets, and ease your finger into your cunt. Again, the wetness makes your walls squelch and your action makes a popping sound.

Keeping a steady pace at first, you thrust the upper part of your middle finger in, then gradually moving the entire finger inside. Once you were comfortable, you increase the pace of your thrusts and mutter out a sweet string of moans, incoherent and dumb. You close your eyes, screw them tight for tears to stream down the side of your face; you're driven to a point of lunacy where all you could think about was Yunho fucking you with his finger. However, one finger wasn't enough for that, so you add in another, your ring finger this time. Both of your fingers rhythmically slide in and out of your cunt, letting your flesh slop and your juices make a mess of them.

Your grip on the sheets tightens, enough for your knuckles to turn white. Your eyes are shut, reveling the pleasure your fingers gave you, while your chest heaved up and down uncomfortably, trying to fathom the suffocation brought by your eerily palpitating heart. Lost in your jolly world of fantasies, where all you could think of was Yunho, you don't hear a soft knock sounding on the door of your room. Although, the person standing on the other side of the door had heard your moans and groans clearly. Yep, this man had heard you, and knows you're masturbating, yet he gulps to himself and scours a little bit of courage to enter the room.

He twists the doorknob and pushes the door inside; second after second, the door cracks open and reveals bits of you, the bed, your legs wide open and your hand between them, to him. Drooling at the sight for what his momentary mind could capture, he clears his throat to snap you out of your daze. Your heart beats slow, adrenaline rushing through and through when you open your eyes to meet with the familiar man standing a step closer to the door.

"Seonghwa..." you gasp, quickly pulling your shirt down to cover to exposed legs, and everything in between them—you hold your hand out to a side, wet and glistening with your juices all over them.

He clears his throat yet again, "Angel, what—well, don't stop."

You're taken off guard by his silly eyes lurking on yours, his lips curling deliriously into a smirk; leaving you to fend for his words, he trudges to his desk and carries the chair to set it in front of you. In utter disbelief, you watch him sit on the chair, spreading his legs wider in front of you, giving you the glimpse of the gradually forming tent in his pants. He unbuttons a few buttons on the top of his shirt, pulling the collars apart to expose a little of his tanned and toned chest.

"Don't stop?" you gawk, slightly breathless.

"I'm sorry if my sudden intrusion made you halt your..." he pauses, eyes trailing down your face to your chest, and legs. "...I wouldn't mind if you were to put on a show for me. Maybe, we could help each other out later on."

You were stumbling in your own mind to regard his words, even if you were past the point of acting on your rationality, this proposition of his was beyond tempting. Unlikely, you'd then have to be embarrassed to have masturbated in front of him too—especially since you and Yunho had shared that sensual call the other night. Everything is a standpoint of your dilemma, whether you should give in to your impulses, and act on your desires or not. After all, contemplating and accepting the reality of your sybaritic situation would precisely put you in a rough place with Yunho if he were to ever find out about your and Seonghwa's deal.

"But..."

"But?" Seonghwa repeats, "there are no buts, sweetheart. Though, to sate my curiosity, I'd like to ask you something."

You nod your head, your cheeks warm and red, hazy from all that's happened in the span of mere minutes.

"What got you all worked up, or rather, who?" you purse your lips together, unable to answer him. And he continues taking your silence as the testimony. "Was it anyone amongst us, or all of us? I saw Yunho leave this room a while before I made my way here. Was it him?"

You nod again, and he chuckles, "guess, Hongjoong owes me fifty bucks now."

Taking offence, you narrow your eyes at him; he shakes his head and enunciates more clearly, "no one's betting on you, sweetheart. It's just...during the game, I saw a few sparks fly between you two. As it made Jongho a little envious, it gave me an insight to your dynamic with Yunho. Surprisingly, he was as cheerful as he was that night—I suppose it was the night he was talking to you, wasn't it? Anyway, me and Hongjoong, a few minutes prior now when Yunho disappeared from the living room, construed a harmless wager."

"Are you all alike?"

"Alike as in, similar to Yunho?" he shakes his head in amusement, "oh, darling. We're anything but alike to that brat."

You don't know what it was about him, maybe that simple of nudge of his head as he satirically insulted Yunho, or the lax foreboding smile which offered you a sight of his sharp canines. There was something about Seonghwa which was making you want him more now—more than Yunho, to be precise. Although, when the remnant of your rationality sticks to your mind, you knew the attraction was simply because you had been played with and left high and dry by Yunho. You were too desperate to feel something in between your legs, literally anything at all—and as demeaning and belittling that is, even to yourself, you couldn't help but weigh your judgment down to Seonghwa's side.

You put on a show for him, he enjoys it while jerking himself off, and later on you get what you wanted all along. Sounds simple. Right? Maybe.

As you're lost in your thoughts, the never-ending brooding of the current situation, Seonghwa turns weary and tilts his head to a side. He licks his lips and asks, presumably snapping you out of your reverie. "Angel, I don't want you doing anything that you're uncomfortable with."

At the shift of his personality, you pout, shaking your head to convey your words. "I'm not uncomfortable with...this. Only, I wonder what it would be like with us if we were to, you know."

Your shoulders flinch, and he sighs, crossing his legs and leaning back into the chair. He smiles softly, "the solution is as straightforward as it can be, Angel."

"I'm not looking for a relationship, however," you whisper, undermining your own words as you come to that conclusion. "If that is what you were about to suggest."

"Relationships aren't really my thing either," he replies, a sly smile on his face, "we keep this exclusive to sex. I'm assuming Yunho put forth a much similar bargain."

You nod, "he did. And I was anticipating he'd..." Seonghwa's brow cocks up in astonishment, "...I anticipated he'd let things get steamy between us tonight. It's the reason why he had been texting me, convincing me to come."

"So, you came here for his dick?" Seonghwa laughs, not in a debasing manner, it was more of an amused laugh. "I understand, but I've been thinking you only decided to come because you didn't want to hurt Jongho's feelings."

"You're not in the wrong," you sigh, "I wanted to be a better friend to him too, but all the while Yunho had been pestering me, teasing me with his semi-nudes...okay, why are we talking about this? Shouldn't we just get done with it as quickly as possible?" you realise you had spoken too much.

Seonghwa shrugs it off, "Angel, I said I wouldn't want you doing anything which would cause you discomfort."

"And I said I'm okay with it."

Smirking, you lift your shirt back up, showing off your completely drenched panties and your sheeny cunt. Tired of pushing your panties to the side, you decide to take them off and once you've rid yourself of them, you spread your legs for his perusal before dipping your hand in between them. You resume your actions, plunging your middle and ring finger into your cunt—to your unbridled desire, your fingers slip in too easily because of the number of times of you were aroused.

"Oh dear, Angel," Seonghwa grunts, palming his crotch through his pants.

You smirk at his utterance and glance up, glazing your eyes over him as his legs are back to being spread wide in front of you, while his hand is busy stroking his cock through his pants. He bites his lower lip, giving you an encouraging nod to increase your pace; throwing your head back, your jaw slacks open when you start thrusting your fingers deep in you. The walls of your cunt quell around your fingers—the feeling reels you back to your sense of salaciousness, forcing you to increase your pace. Seonghwa's groans soon fill in the room, blending in too perfectly with your moans as you continue to finger yourself.

Seonghwa, seemingly too tired of rubbing himself through his pants, unbuttons, unzips, and tugs them down to pull his fully hard cock out. You watch him wrap his hand along the tip at first, stroking it softly with his fingers as he gradually drags his hand down along the shaft. Precum glisters on the tip of his cock, and along the length of it; and the more he pumps his cock, the more of his arousal leaks from his tip. Trapping his bottom lip in the grasp of his teeth, he prevents any vile sounds to slip from his mouth. And wanting to do the same, you clasp your free hand over your mouth but fail to do so when your mind loses every inch of control. It doesn't work as it should, because your hand is sliding down to your chest, to play around with your taut nipples.

"You're so pretty, Hwa," the comment slides out of your mouth with such ease that you don't even realise you had said it. "You look so pretty like this, stroking your cock to me fingering myself."

Again, you didn't know where you got the confidence to speak.

He chuckles softly, which mixes with his grunt as he increases the pace of his hand around his cock. "My Angel dearest, I think the sight—the—the sight of my cock—my cock thrusting into that tight little cunt of your—yours, might be the prettiest—prettiest sight of all."

His stutter was absolutely driving you insane; not just the way he stumbled his with his words, but also the way he was pumping his cock vigorously to the thought of that. Holding his shirt up by his other hand, preventing it from getting ruined, he tightens his hand around his cock, keeping a steady pace.

"Then why don't we see it—"

Thud!

The door closes shut, startling both of you as you freeze in your places. You focus your attention to the door, but Seonghwa doesn't really bother to look behind; and from the way he smirked, it was evident to you that he knew who had just arrived. It wasn't a surprise to you either, because somewhere in your heart, you were waiting for him to come.

"Tch, what an alluring sight my eyes behold," Yunho clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest and steps ahead to stand behind Seonghwa. "Let's say, I'm not all too confounded with your behaviour, 'Hwa. But I certainly did not expect my princess to acquit herself from her punishment."

His condescending tone was back, and very much alluring; his way of degrading you never gets boring, it's always tipping you off to your extremity. Yunho steps past Seonghwa and stands right in front of you. His gaze penetrates through your ruse, causing you to shiver as you sit straighter and composed, a little stoic to his advances maybe. You're not so much tolerant when you drag your eyes down to his body, his buff chest at first, then his bulging arms folded on his chest, and lastly, you're spanning your eyes across his abdomen and crotch. His shorts are confining his boner, sadly so, the outline of his cock makes you drool and imagine of the sensation you'd get from him filling you up.

"Eyes up here, princess."

You whimper, "Yunho, I can explain."

"Shush," he presses his index finger on your lips and glances back at Seonghwa over his shoulder, "it turns out my precious princess can't control herself. Why don't we teach her a little discipline?"

Seonghwa smirks, as if he had caught up on Yunho's intentions already. "Only if she's okay with us ruining her."

"Oh, a whore like her would certainly enjoy herself being fucked by both of us, would she not?" he brings his hand down to your throat and squeezes it, grunting as he brings you close to his face, "right, princess? Want to be filled with both of our cocks, right? Be nothing but a cum-slut for both of us...hmm?"

You nod your head, murmuring, "yes, yes...I want to be filled—be filled with both of you...use me as your..."

"So, so, so hopeless," Yunho tuts in pity. "I think you should take the fron—"

"—I'm in no mood today, Yun," Seonghwa interrupts him, getting up from the chair with his pants pulled over, as he strides across to stand next to Yunho. His eyes darken, a wretched curl taking its shape on his lips. "But, I would like to see what this pretty mouth can do."

You groan in such desperation, feeling his thumb caress your lower lip till he's tugging it down for you to open your mouth a little wider.

"Don't expect much, Hwa," Yunho grumbles, pulling his red hoodie over his head and discarding it down on the floor. He wears nothing under it, though, and you start checking out his toned upper body with your blurry eyes. "This mouth knows nothing but to complain and whine. Maybe yap around a bit and haul foul words at others."

Seonghwa chuckles and holds your jaw instead, thumb pressing down on your chin to do what he had been trying to do; getting your mouth to open wide. And maybe he was trying to get your attention off of Yunho.

"I better not believe him, Angel. Show me what you can do."

"Hmm," your eyes are back on Seonghwa, "I can—"

He doesn't let you finish your words leans down to kiss you. A mere contact of your lips inflames your heart into a fiery pit of despair, and you're kissing him back with much intensity. Your lips lap, collide, and suck, while he's too busy trying to drag his tongue into your mouth. He does it soon, however. His tongue caresses your lips at first, then as your widely opened mouth lets him in, he's scraping his tongue across your teeth and tackling yours into a soft brawl. Your eyes flutter close to the sensation of his warm and rough tongue rubbing with yours, delving down deep in your throat as his hands are now cupping your face.

Meanwhile, Yunho is certainly bewildered to watch his friend suck your mouth off, at the same time, an uncurbed tremor of jealousy aches his heart. Yet, he watches the two of you, observes how Seonghwa's hands were caressing your cheeks, how his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. To a certain degree of envy, he gives in and clears his throat, eventually pulling at Seonghwa's collar to break you apart.

"Jealous much?" Seonghwa comments, which goes unacknowledged by Yunho who grunts at you, "I want you on all your fours. Now."

You gulp, struck with intimidation by his voice, and the ambiguous shade of grey in his eyes. Obliging to him, you slide back on the bed and get on your fours, facing the edge of the bed as you anticipated their next move. Yunho doesn't say anything and moves on about to situate himself behind you, meanwhile Seonghwa settles himself in front of you. You're in eye level with Seonghwa's cock, hard and leaking precum, it's tip laying flat against his stomach as he takes a minute to shrug his shirt off. His pants were already off when you were trying to get comfortable on your knees and hands on the bed.

The mattress dips to Yunho's weight behind you, giving you the obvious sign that he was upto something. To your apparent satisfaction, he pushed the hem of your shirt along your back to give him better access to your rear. The warmth of his hands caresses your buttcheeks, eventually dwindling down to your inner thighs as he pushes your legs further apart. He's mentally slobbering at the sight of your folds, all wet and glistening in their glory; his cock twitches at the thought of rubbing himself all over you before sliding into your warmth.

"So fucking wet already," Yunho grumbles, "probably doesn't even need me to prep this cunt before fucking it with my cock."

"Yun—fuck..."

You clench around nothing as you listen to him growl all those words under his breath. Seonghwa chortles, grabbing your jaw and guiding the tip of his cock to your mouth; he rubs it along your lips before he eases himself inside. Engulfed by your warmth, he groans softly and closes his eyes to relish the atypical sensation for first few seconds. He knows he'll get used to you in a little bit and so will you. You wrap your lips around him, as he continues to slide his cock in your mouth. Once he grows aware of how much him you can take in, he stops and entangles both of his hands in your hair instead, helping him to hold your head down.

"Hmmm," you moan around his cock, feeling the tip brush past your tongue and the walls of your throat. The saltiness from his precum is too evident on your tongue, but you swallow it down and focus on him.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around me," Seonghwa's chest sounds a low gruff, glancing down at you through his half-lidded eyes. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Hmm, I'll try to be gentle, okay?"

You nod, trying to pacify the sting at the corner of your lips from the way they were stretched around his cock. He doesn't push himself further than he already is and starts thrusting his cock into your throat. You merely gagged around the tip but held your breath. Seonghwa's lips remain parted, and his eyes remain shut, he was a moaning mess, subsiding to the warmth of your mouth rocking him in and out.

Yunho's jealousy knows no bounds, he's fuming inside as he watches Seonghwa fuck your mouth. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his upper lip, he smirks smugly and traces his fingers from your inner thighs to your folds, eventually to your slit. His fingers collect bits of your wetness before tucking them in your cunt; first it's the fingertips, gradually the entire length of his fingers are thrusting in and out of your cunt.

You're so out of it, buzzing with pleasure received on both sides. One, you weren't able to moan because of how deep Seonghwa was plunging his cock into your throat. Two, Yunho's fingers were curling in the deepest parts of your cunt, squelching around the flesh and making you squirm from time to time. Three, you knew Seonghwa's pace was picking itself up, but however you weren't sure if you'd be able to keep up with him.

Relentlessly, you fist your hands in the sheets underneath, holding onto them for your dear life because Seonghwa's hips were rutting into your face. Your mind was fogged by the way he rammed his cock in your throat, making you gag and choke while he guided you down by holding your head. His fingers were tangled in your hair, which eventually turns into a makeshift ponytail. You flatten your tongue toward the roof of your mouth, licking the underside of his shaft as he rapidly thrusted in and out.

"Dear sweet lord—fuck, Angel, don't stop—don't—don't stop doing that." He grumbles out, voiceless as he tries to catch a breath.

Tears are streaming down your face, as your nose scrunches up against his pubic bone and littlest of pubic hair, you're suffocating too, having lost the ability to breathe through your nose. Seonghwa's hips come to a halt, but doesn't really let you go—he likes the way your mouth is wrapped around him, likes the way your cheeks are hollowed and confined to his cock.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Hwa." Yunho pouts, "makes me regret to not have used her mouth before you..." his fingers are spreading you apart, stretching your walls to their limits. "Hmm, but doesn't matter anymore, I'll be the first to ruin this tight little thing."

With that being said, he flicks the direction of his wrist, bringing his fingers out only for a meagre second before he's thrusting them back in. He only did that to get his thumb in front, to toy with your clit as he presses down on it, eliciting a whine from you. Though, the vibrations of your whine are absorbed by Seonghwa's cock stuffed in your mouth, driving him wild. His thrusts resume, however, his pace picks up slowly but doesn't show any signs of faltering. Your jaw is slack and limp, already lethargic from taking him in.

"You're missing—you're missing out, Yun," Seonghwa's mumbles before bestowing his praises upon you, "you're doing so—doing so well, my dear. Such a good girl—good girl to take my cock—cock in without complaining. A little bit—little bit more..."

You have your eyes closed and mind shut down, the pleasure was unbearably long and everlasting till your body gave you enough strength to withstand their ministrations. At the way Yunho's fingers were moving in you, and brushing your sweet spot, you knew you wouldn't last long. The hot and vehement knot tightens itself in your stomach and wrenches your gut, preparing you for your climax. Your walls clench around Yunho's fingers, making him click his tongue as he pulls them out.

"Not so soon, princess." he sighs, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and briefs. "Not till you make a mess on my cock—fuck, this might—this might sting a bit."

He aligns the tip of his cock with you and rubs it along your slit before easing himself into your cunt bit by bit; your walls stretch to his girth, a tiny fire burning your skin as you whimper and wince. Although, Seonghwa's faltering thrusts try to distract you from the initial pain of Yunho's cock submerging into you—he is twitching in your mouth like crazy, knowing well he was close to his edge. You weren't so sure about your own orgasm, since you were already senseless to Yunho's cock plunging into you; and to your greater surprise, it was only the tip of his cock pounding into you. Yet he was driving you wild, his cock screwing itself so deep into you, and stretching you raw. Every time Yunho bucked his hips into yours, your body rolled into Seonghwa's, making your mouth slip further down on his cock and gag around your throat.

"Fuck, baby, gimme a min," Seonghwa mumbles and you nod slightly, causing him to pull out before you passed out of suffocation.

Taking a deep breath in through your mouth, you glance up at Seonghwa with teary eyes, finding sweat make his hair stick to his forehead and a few drops dribble down the sides of his head. You couldn't be too mesmerised by his beauty, because Yunho takes that time to ease himself fully into your cunt; his cock throbbing inside you, as his thrusts are fast paced and concise.

Seonghwa shares a look with Yunho before turning down to you, "take a deep breath, sweetheart..." he was breathless, yet he was able to pronounce each word with care and concern.

"Fuck, Yunho..." you mumbled under your breath, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Yunho's hips ram into yours. "You're—you're too fast—fuck—feels good, feels really—really good."

"Such a good slut, taking me in raw and making herself feel good with my cock," Yunho grunts.

"Yun—"

You couldn't thread your words together let alone voice them, and even if you could, Seonghwa wouldn't let you because he's already nudging the tip of his cock against your lips. Opening your mouth, as you're now used to his size, you wrap your lips around him; he keeps his pace slow this time, letting the tip of his cock poke your cheek as his thrust aren't well timed or rhythmical. Although, he's close, so close. He tightens his fingers in your hair, tugging at your strands as he pushes your head down on his cock—the warmth of your throat tips him off, and he twitches insanely before coming undone in your throat. His load trickles down, making you forcefully swallow it, tasting mild undertones of sweetness followed by the saltiness of his cum; he rides his high out with a few placid thrusts, filling your mouth with his cum. He only pulls out when he's sure he's emptied himself entirely into your mouth and when he does, he sighs and smiles down at you with a dazed look in his eyes.

"You did a great job, sweetheart. Made me cum with only your mouth, such a good and obedient slut," he pats your head, stroking your hair with his one hand as other one wipes the trickling drops of his cum from your lips. "Hmm, good girl."

He leans in to kiss you, humming in satisfaction as he tastes himself on your lips—though, out of nowhere he darts his tongue inside your mouth swallows a bit of his own cum, alleviating your struggle to swallow it whole. Pulling back, he groans softly and pushes himself off the bed completely. He gets dressed in no time, sparing no particular attention to you or Yunho, who's too busy hurling his cock into you.

"Clean up after you're done, Yun." He says one last time before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud.

You're brought to your senses then; the tight grip of Yunho's hands on your thighs which certainly has left dark bruises on your skin, the way his thrusts were proper yet short to prolong your orgasm, and the way weakness had taken over your body. Without warning, your hands give in, and you land face first into the mattress; however, Yunho clicks his tongue and groans softly before establishing a good grip on the back of your neck, pressing a little harder he lets his hand trace to the back of your head instead and his fingers entwine with your hair. He pulls your body up by tugging harshly on your hair, making you yelp and let out a small whine in protest. Your back is flushed against his chest, his thighs are hitching into yours, and his hands are all over you. One of his hands grabs your throat, choking you, while the other slithers under your shirt to grope your tits. Cupping them under your shirt, as they're already hanging out from your bra, he pulls on the tauten nipples, pinches them and rolls them between his forefinger and thumb; you moan, your mouth agape at the wild sensation It brought to you.

"How does it feel now, princess?" he grumbles, and you throw your head back resting it on his shoulder, "too much—too much—wanna cum."

Yunho hums, "as expected from my slut."

You nod to him, unable to force out words from your mouth, or even form them in your head. His thrusts pick up again, his hand drops from your chest and traces down to your clit; fingers rub down motions on your swollen bud, and you realise how sensitive you had gotten. Needless to say, every time he rolls his hips into yours, his cock plunges deep, so deep it tickles your gut—the tip of his cock was simultaneously abusing your sweet spot, nudging hard against the pit of your stomach. Bringing his hand to your lower stomach, he presses down, and your walls convulse immensely around his cock; you could really feel him in abdomen, sending all sorts of shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, being so deep in you, it's driving me crazy," he grumbles, "you feel me, princess? Feel my cock pound you good, huh?"

Again, you nod, profusely melting under the heat and sweat of your bodies—you were long gone to comprehend sanity at this point. He buries his head in your neck and sucks purple bruises all over your skin; they're going to be super evident in the morning, and you're going to get questionable looks from the others in the loft. Not that you thought you could get away with this, you were so sure the others were able to hear you, and that thought itself drove you into your diverting state of mind. It made you even wetter to know that others could hear you get fucked by Seonghwa and Yunho.

"Fuck—princess, use your words." Yunho flattens his palm on your pussy and gives it a slap, jerking you out of your daze and making you mumble, dumbfounded. The crass impact of his hand makes you cry and put your mind on ease knowing how full you were from his cock. You sob softly, feeling the pleasure take over you, "yes—yes, please, wanna cum so badly—wanna make a mess on—mess on your cock."

Yunho, satisfied with your response, supports your body against his with his hands on either side of your waist now; he pulls out and rams his cock back into you, keeping a steady pace before picking it up. You're definitely going to be left sore tomorrow, maybe deprived of your ability to walk even. His cock was reaching deep into you, knowing this angle was better to fuck and abuse your sweet spot. It doesn't take him long to bring that familiar tightness back in the pit your stomach—it twists your guts thinking how close you really were to your climax. In the room, along with your moans, and his grunts, the sound of your skin slapping against his also reverberated; every time he thrusted in, his hips would be in touch with yours for a mere second before he'd go back to dive deeper into you.

"Right, this tight—tight cunt only needs my cock to make a mess, doesn't it?" Yunho grunts close to your ear, steadying himself with his thrusts.

His words tip you off and you squeal, "yes, fuck—Yunho—Yunho—I'm going to..."

"Go on, princess."

Offering you few more long and sharp thrusts, which causes your wall to squelch and clench; without your notice, that tightness is coming undone. You let go of all the confines and your orgasm washes over you. Ironically, you really do make a mess on his cock, as it still keeps plunging into you. The warmth of your cum drips down your inner thighs, coating Yunho's thighs as well when he bucks his hips into yours. A sly smirk curves on his face, as he smacks his lips to the warmth of your juices dripping over his cock, squirting a bit around because of his thrusts.

"Oh, my princess, such a good slut. A bit more...a bit more, I'm close too," Yunho grunts close to your war, sloppily sliding in and out of you.

He was close, remotely, he usually lasts longer than this, but considering how tight your walls were around him, he had no choice but to push himself to his edge. You feel him twitch inside you, and your walls clench tightly around him; his hold on your waist goes tight as he pushes you down on the mattress—the lowered angle gave him a leverage and he continued slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace for as long as he could. It takes him a while to get to his point, and before you know, the warmth of his cum is filling you up to your brim and dribbling past your hole. He rides out his high with a few more short and brief thrusts, digging his nails into your flesh to leave back minuscule crescents and breathes heavily, before sliding out and falling limp against your body.

You heave out a sigh, relaxing your body back into his, as your chest rises and falls; it takes the two of you a moment before Yunho lays you down on the bed and then rests himself next to you. Tiredness evident in the ragged breathing of his, he doesn't try to speak anything unless he's composed himself, and so do you—you press your lips together and lay in silence till your mind clears out and the post-orgasm clarity sinks in. You stare at the spotless ceiling above, listening to Yunho's hushed attempts at abating his breathing.

After a few minutes of silence, Yunho is the first to disrupt the tranquility between you two. "That was intense, quite something I did not anticipate."

"As much as I hate to agree, but I hadn't sucked a cock in a while. I feel my jaw slack and loose." you murmur, reminiscing your past sexual encounters with others; knowing no blowjobs had ever been so hard as this one. "Feels like I've lost the capability to talk, my throat feels sore too."

Yunho chuckles, turning to his side and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling himself close to your body, "Seonghwa usually prefers throat-fucking more to penetrating. You should be glad he wasn't as rough as he used to be with his past lovers." he shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder and inhales your scent, which apparently was a concoction of sex, sweat, a bit of Seonghwa's scent on you, and his too. "Don't worry, I'll make you a cup of hot tea, you'll feel better."

"Well, I'm taking you up on that, mister," you titter, leaning to the side to put your head on his. Seemingly pondering, you wrung your thoughts and initiate, "hey, umm, do you think—I'm not sure, but would you be comfortable if I..."

Your words dither to a whisper and Yunho's sighs, second guessing your notions and interrupting you, "you want to be with both of us, right?"

"After this, I don't think I can regard him as a friend," you grumble, whining softly, "I mean, I sucked his dick. That's something friends don't do."

Yunho heaves out a small breath, peeking up at you through his lashes as his hair sticks to his forehead from all the sweat. "Angel, I think we should discuss this tomorrow. With a fresh mind and refueled bodies. My thinking adeptness has left my mind. To be fair, all I can think about is actually pretty pathetic and many more sordid things which include you. So, it's better if we call it a night and talk it out tomorrow, hmm?"

Sighing, you nod to his suggestion and reassure him with a blink of your eyes. "Fine, I'll leave it for tomorrow."

"Good girl," Yunho chirps, "now, let's get you cleaned. Inside out. I don't want you knocking at my door after nine months showing up with a cute little spawn of my devilry."

"Shut up, you."

The rest of the night was pretty tame; Yunho helped you clean, inside out as he promised. Seonghwa's bathroom was far too spacious than he had sold to you, there was a bathtub, a shower and a completely secluded section where the toilet was. While you were relaxing in the hot bath in the tub, prepared for you by Yunho, he took a quick shower and proceeded to change the sheets of the bed. Once you were well scrubbed and washed, he wiped you dry and slipped his hoodie over your body. He got dressed only in his shorts and the two of you then cuddled each other to sleep.

As the night dawned to a new morning, you kept thinking about the events of the night—the sinister impulses you had given into and the reverting cataclysmic effects to your dynamic with Yunho and Seonghwa. Though, Yunho did say they'd talk it out in the morning, but maybe you were worried for that morning to come. Regardless of your overthinking, the night passes you quick, your mind waking up from its slumber at the exact moment when the bright rays of sun cascaded in the room.

You open your eyes to a bright white light, squinting them to the golden glow of the sunshine; you murmur in a daze, a sleepy daze of yours as you urged yourself to go back to sleep. Groaning softly, you stretch your arms out and feel an empty void next to you. Yunho was no longer sleeping by your side. You pout and try to disregard the bitter feeling in your mouth. Gently and eagerly biting back sobs whenever your sore hips, thighs and back, inflicted pain upon your body, you get yourself off the bed and slip into the shorts which Seonghwa had offered you last night. The same ones you refused to wear since you were on tenterhooks for Yunho's cock. Stifling a yawn, you wash your face in the bathroom, pat it dry and make sure all your sleep is gone before heading out to the kitchen.

"There she is," you hear a muffled chirping from a familiar voice, "good morning, Angel."

"G'morning."

You rub the remaining sleep from your eyes and focus your blurry gaze onto the said man; you find Yunho sitting on the chair of the dining table, alongside Hongjoong, with Yeosang and Jongho sitting opposite to them, their back facing you. Meanwhile, you also heard faint sizzling of pan coming from the kitchen and only assumed someone was cooking breakfast for the others. Not having a clue about the time, you murmur incoherently under your breath and paddle your way across to the table.

Hongjoong offers you a small smile, as you settle down next to Jongho, "good morning, Angel. I hope you slept well, more than well perhaps."

You choke on your saliva, gazing up at him and then at Yunho. "Uh, yeah. I slept good."

"Only good?" Yunho pouts.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him; and look around instead, noticing Seonghwa was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. The others were freshly showered, neatly dressed and sitting around the table with a plateful of breakfast in front of them. Jongho had a frown on his face every time he glanced at you, Hongjoong's eyes were rather beguiling and beaming at you with a few ulterior motives hidden in clear sight, and Yeosang barely acknowledged your presence as he was busy working on his laptop which he had propped in front of him instead of a plate.

Jongho, who's fidgeting with the sleeves of his university sweatshirt, flashes you a disdainful glance and looks back down at his plate of half-eaten pancakes. "Are you going to make it to any of your classes today?"

Ouch.

"What do you mean?" you act coy, squeezing your thighs together as you reel off into the memories of last night.

"Don't pretend to be a doll, Ange." he groans softly, training his eyes on you, "I know what happened last night, well everyone does."

Yunho adds, "she was loud enough for our neighbours to hear, I wouldn't be surprised if y'all heard her too."

"Not the time to boast, Yun," Hongjoong warns, shaking his head; you watch him smiling at you, smugly, sitting poised dressed in a grunge green suit and a black shirt under it. He fiddles with an emerald ring sitting on his thumb, raising his brow at you in sheer wonder. "It's better if we address this situation first, and later on, you can go back to your teasings and haughty nothings."

"What is there to address?" you gawk, blinking twice as your eyes remain wide and fixated on Hongjoong.

Seonghwa walks in with a plate of hot pancakes and places it in front of you before sitting next to Hongjoong. "Us." he mutters, motioning his index finger between you, him, and Yunho. "We need to confront what we feel and superimpose our feelings onto what we did last night."

"I mean..." you trail off, glancing at Yunho, "I was already considering Yunho's proposition to be exclusively friends with benefits. I'm not sure about..." you peek at Seonghwa.

"It's not just about them, for now," Jongho mutters, his cheeks turning a flimsy shade of red as he continues, "I like you, I've always had. Though, it's not a reason enough for me to be with you. I enjoy your company too and I wouldn't mind being a part of your..."

"Where are you going with this?" you mumble, bemused and lost in a whirlwind of confusion.

"What we're trying to put forth is a—umm, sort of a similar premise to Yunho's," Hongjoong initiates and Seonghwa adds to it, "we want you to be our precious little thing."

"We, as in all of us maybe," Yunho knocks his knuckles on the table to get Yeosang's attention, "Sangie, are you in or not?"

Yeosang looks up at him, nibbling on his lower lip as he nods, eyes quickly rummaging to check you out. "Sure."

"Basically, the ones who are sitting around here." Yunho continues, "we need someone who could help us out with our frustrations and oddly enough sexual desires. Only, that is, if you're comfortable being a part of it."

"I would need some time to think." You're beyond tempted to accept it, be their scarlet woman but you didn't want to come off as too eager to accept it.

"Take all the time you need, doll," Hongjoong assures you with a warming smile.

"After all, you're going to be our precious one."

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#ateez #ateez yunho #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #park seonghwa #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #smut #park seonghwa x jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho x you #park seonghwa x you

[callsigns-haze]

Out of All: Chp 7

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships

Mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy test

Your mind raced with a torrent of thoughts and fears as you sat in the bathroom, the pregnancy test boxes clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, each passing moment tinged with uncertainty and apprehension.

Caila's reassuring embrace offered a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within you, but deep down, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that everything would not, in fact, be okay. The prospect of facing such a life-altering possibility alone filled you with a sense of overwhelming vulnerability.

As you retreated into the bathroom, you found yourself confronted with the stark reality of the situation. The instructions on the test boxes lay before you, a series of simple steps that held the power to confirm or deny your worst fears.

With trembling fingers, you opened one of the boxes and carefully read through the instructions. The process seemed straightforward enough, but the weight of its implications bore down upon you with a crushing intensity.

Stripping away your clothing, you settled onto the toilet seat, feeling a wave of unease wash over you. The simple act of counting to seven seconds suddenly felt like an insurmountable challenge, each moment stretched to an agonizing eternity in your mind.

Despite the anxiety coursing through your veins, you summoned the courage to proceed, allowing the stream of urine to fill the container as instructed. Each second felt like an eternity, the pressure mounting with each passing moment as you willed yourself to maintain control.

With shaky hands, you dipped the test into the urine, watching as the liquid spread across the surface, carrying with it the weight of your hopes and fears. In that moment of uncertainty, you found yourself clinging to the fragile promise of a future yet to be determined, praying for a glimmer of clarity amidst the overwhelming chaos.

The expletive escaped your lips in a hushed whisper, the weight of the revelation bearing down upon you with an unbearable intensity. Panic surged through your veins, threatening to overwhelm you as you struggled to process the reality of the situation.

Positive.

The word echoed in your mind like a relentless drumbeat, each repetition serving as a cruel reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. You felt as though the ground had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you adrift in a sea of fear and apprehension.

Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched the positive test in trembling hands, the weight of its implications pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket. How could this be happening? How could something so life-altering occur in the blink of an eye, shattering the fragile illusion of stability you had worked so hard to maintain?

Your thoughts raced in a frantic whirlwind, each scenario more dire than the last. How would you tell Bradley? How would you face Jake? The prospect of navigating this turbulent journey alone filled you with a sense of overwhelming dread, the enormity of the challenge ahead threatening to crush you beneath its weight.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, a small voice of determination whispered within you. You may not have all the answers, but you refused to let fear dictate your future. You would face this challenge head-on, drawing strength from the knowledge that you were not alone.

With a deep breath, you rose to your feet, the weight of the positive test still heavy in your hands.

---- As you entered your home, the weight of the pregnancy tests in your pocket felt like an anchor dragging you down into the depths of despair. Bradley's presence greeted you, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow and the gentle touch of his hands as he pulled you into a comforting embrace.

His hug was a lifeline in the midst of your turmoil, offering solace and reassurance as tears spilled from your eyes. You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace as he guided you to the couch. With a tissue in hand, he offered you a lifeline to wipe away your tears, his steady presence a source of strength in your moment of weakness.

But when words failed you, when the magnitude of your revelation threatened to consume you whole, you reached for one of the pregnancy tests, the silent messenger of your reality. As Bradley's gaze fell upon the test, comprehension dawned in his eyes, his shock mingling with a fierce determination to support you through this unexpected journey.

Though a myriad of emotions swirled within him, anger was not directed at you, but at the unseen force that had left you in this state of uncertainty. He longed to protect you from the harsh realities of the world, to shield you from the consequences of someone else's actions.

As you sobbed in his arms, his words of comfort rang out like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "Chick, everything will be okay. I'm here for you, till the end," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

But amidst the comfort of his embrace, a nagging thought lingered in the back of your mind. What about Jake? How would he react to this unexpected news? The uncertainty of his response loomed like a shadow over your newfound sense of security, casting doubt upon the fragile foundation of your world.

--The next day--

Jake was in the process of unloading his gear from his locker when Rooster stormed into the room with an air of agitation. His abrupt entrance caught Jake off guard, prompting him to inquire about the source of Rooster's evident frustration.

"Rooster, what's got you all worked up?" Jake's curiosity was piqued by his friend's uncharacteristic demeanor, especially considering Rooster's typically laid-back nature.

Rooster's response was unexpected, as he revealed that Anna, Bradley's sister, was the cause of his turmoil. The mention of your name sent a jolt of concern through Jake, his thoughts immediately turning to the incident in the Hard Deck. He couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to leave you in such a state.

"She told me something the other night," Rooster continued, his voice tinged with anger, "and she seemed really shaken up about it. But it's got me pissed off. She took a damn pregnancy test, man."

Jake's mind raced as he processed Rooster's words. The mention of a pregnancy test sent a shockwave of disbelief through him. He knew that he was the only one you had been intimate with, so the implications of the test were clear. But Bradley hadn't mentioned whether the test was positive or negative.

As confusion mingled with concern, Jake couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Whatever the outcome of the test, he knew that he needed to reach out to you, to offer support and reassurance in your time of need. But as he contemplated the situation, one question echoed in his mind: What had led you to take a pregnancy test in the first place, you guys were always safe?

"W-was it positive?" Jake's voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and disbelief as he sought confirmation from Bradley. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and Jake's composure faltered despite his efforts to remain calm.

Bradley's response was heavy with resignation, his weariness evident as he rubbed his hands wearily across his face. "What do you think? My little sister is pregnant, Jake," he replied, the words carrying a weight of their own.

The reality of the situation hit Jake like a ton of bricks, his mind reeling with a flood of emotions. He couldn't bear to simply stand there, paralyzed by shock. Before anything else could be said, Jake made a hasty retreat from the room, his actions spurred on by a sense of urgency and the overwhelming need to find you.

As he sprinted down the corridor, he could hear Bradley's voice calling after him, but Jake's sole focus was on reaching you as quickly as possible. Every step propelled him forward, driven by a desperate need to talk to you and offer whatever support he could in the face of this unexpected turn of events.

--- Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you returned home from another day of filming. Nausea had plagued you throughout the day, and all you craved was a much-needed nap to sleep off the sickness. As you dropped your belongings by the door and slipped off your shoes, you made your way to the couch, longing for a moment of respite.

Lying on your back with limbs splayed out like a star, you stared up at the ceiling, succumbing to the pull of sleep. However, the tranquility was shattered by aggressive pounding at the door, jolting you awake. Blinking away drowsiness, you stumbled to the door, your head spinning for a moment before regaining focus.

The sight that greeted you was unexpected—a blonde, green-eyed Texan storming in with urgency written all over his face. Before you could even process the situation, his grip tightened on your shoulder, his voice urgent as he demanded, "Anna, are you pregnant?"

Shock coursed through you. How could he possibly know? But then it dawned on you—Jake worked with Bradley. Your heart sank as you realized your secret had somehow reached him. Taking a deep breath, you managed to nod in affirmation, confirming his suspicions.

Jake's demeanor betrayed his inner turmoil as he withdrew his hands from your shoulders, running them down his face in a gesture of stress. His forehead glistened with sweat, his expression pale and tense. Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained remarkably composed as he sought confirmation, "It's mine, isn't it?"

You met his gaze, unable to mask the uncertainty in your own. With a nod, you confirmed his fears, uttering the words that sealed your fate, "It's yours, Jake."

His reaction was not what you had anticipated. Instead of anger or frustration, he simply nodded, processing the information silently. His calm demeanor left you at a loss, unsure of what to expect next. As you braced yourself for his response, he surprised you by asking another question, his voice steady despite the weight of the revelation.

Jake's question hung in the air, pregnant with anticipation. As you nodded in affirmation, the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy shroud. You were indeed the mother of his future child, a reality that both terrified and astounded you.

Expecting a flurry of emotions or perhaps even his swift departure, you watched in bewildered silence as Jake turned away. But to your surprise, he didn't leave. Instead, he closed the door behind him before turning back to face you. His eyes bore into yours, and before you could comprehend his intentions, he closed the distance between you in a single decisive move.

A wave of shock washed over you as Jake's lips met yours, not with the casual familiarity of previous encounters, but with a passion that ignited something deep within you. The intensity of his kiss caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless as you surrendered to the unexpected rush of emotion.

In that fleeting moment, as the world seemed to fade away, you found yourself reassessing everything you thought you knew. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing was clear—this kiss had changed everything.

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#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman imagine #hangman seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman x y/n #hangman

[biteofcherry]

Happy early birthday!! 🥳🎉❤️ A celebration prompt for you!!

To Find the Light!Steve + “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Have fun! 😈😘❤️

Weeee! Thank you for the birthday wishes, Siri! 🥰💖 And for prompting me to ruin us all 😏

Touch The Darkness Masterlist

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: dark mafia Steve is a warning himself; you should know better than to proceed; brain-ruining s*x; very brief mention of gun kink; is this how I would love to start my own birthday? Hell yes!

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Steve's breathless chuckle barely registered through the pounding fog of sensations that overtook your brain.

Your whole body.

It felt like every particle of your being was strained and vibrating from one of the most shattering orgasms you've ever experienced in your life.

Steve was the first man, only man, to made you understand why they called it a little death.

This time it felt like a big, neverending death. One climax stretching into another, making you scream and cry, until you lost all control of anything that was happening to your body.

With his cock still buried deep inside your clenching cunt, Steve moved his fingers - those slicked with your juices from where he kept rubbing and pinching your clit over and over again.

He gripped your cheeks, squishing them, and turned your head to the side.

Your blurry sight sharpened so slowly, brain still not catching up with what was happening beyond the fact that you were swimming a powerful orgasm's high.

But the nightstand finally came into view and your mind picked pieces of reality.

First your gaze landed on the gun. The same that was shiny from lube and your own wetness after you worked yourself on it at Steve's command.

Then you noticed the neon green numbers flashing on the alarm clock. 00:01.

It was already the next day. Day of your birthday.

And Steve made you come, screaming for him and gushing, right as your birthday started.

"It's your special day, Princess." Steve forced your head back and slipped his sticky fingers between your lips.

"I'm going to spoil you," he started rocking his hips again.

"Though-" he smirked, his next thrust turning so hard that your body bounced and tears trickled from the corners of your eyes- "you may not remember much of it later, since you're already so fucked out."

#stargazingfangirl18 #biteofcherry's birthday banquet #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark mafia!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #touch the darkness

[muiitoloko]

I love you

Summary: The truth is that you two still love each other.

Pairing: Harry ( love actually ) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Anguish, sadness, jealousy, and smut.

Author's Notes: Hey there, buckle up because I've got another epic chapter featuring Harry from Love actually. Yep, I know I tend to go a tad overboard with my storytelling, but hey, when inspiration strikes, I just can't help myself! 😅 But let's put a lid on that chatter and dive straight into the juicy stuff, shall we? And oh, I didn't proofread this out of laziness, so there must be some mistakes there, I'll proofread it eventually, but not now.

First, Second and Fourth part here.

As you pulled away from the hug, wiping away your tears, you turned to the judge, your voice shaking slightly as you declared your decision to proceed with the divorce.

"I want to go through with the divorce," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm with resolve.

Harry's protests fell on deaf ears as you took the pen and hesitated for a moment, memories of his betrayal flooding your mind, fueling your determination to see this through. The hurtful messages, the lies, the secrets—all came rushing back, giving you the strength to sign your name on each document without hesitation.

With each stroke of the pen, you felt a sense of closure, a finality to the chapter of your life that had been defined by pain and betrayal. And as you handed the pen to Harry, refusing to meet his gaze, you saw the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to accept the reality of what was happening.

Harry took the pen reluctantly, his hand trembling as he signed the papers, knowing that you had been through so much and that this was the only way forward. As he finished writing your name, he felt a profound emptiness wash over him, the weight of the divorce settling in with crushing force.

The judge took the papers, explaining the final details of the divorce settlement before handing the divorce certificate to both of you. With a heavy heart, you rose from your seat and made your way to the door, leaving Harry behind in the chair, staring blankly at the divorce certificate before him.

"Thank you, Your Honor," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you left the room, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.

Harry remained seated for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on the divorce certificate in front of him. With a heavy sigh, he looked up at Judge Turpin, who met his gaze with a stoic, indifferent expression.

"I understand, Mister," Judge Turpin said, his voice firm yet tinged with sympathy. "But it's time for you to leave now."

Harry nodded silently, his heart heavy with regret and sorrow as he gathered his things and made his way out of the room. As he walked down the hallway, the reality of the divorce sinking in, he couldn't help but wonder what could have been, if only things had turned out differently. But deep down, he knew that some wounds were too deep to heal, some betrayals too painful to forgive. And with a heavy heart, he walked out of the courthouse, leaving behind the shattered remnants of a love that had once been so strong.

As Harry left the courthouse, clutching his divorce certificate, his steps heavy with the weight of the moment, he couldn't shake the image of you standing outside, waiting for a taxi. Despite the ache in his heart, he knew he couldn't let you go without at least offering to drive you home.

Approaching you tentatively, he hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to speak. "Can I... Can I give you a ride?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and desperation.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of surprise and reluctance. Clutching your purse and divorce certificate tightly, you hesitated before shaking your head. "I'm fine, I'll just wait for the taxi," you replied, your voice strained with emotion.

Harry felt a pang of disappointment, but he couldn't let you go without one last attempt to make things right. "Please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise I won't do anything. Just let me take you home."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to distance yourself from Harry and the faint flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for reconciliation. After a moment of silent contemplation, you relented with a resigned sigh. "Okay," you said quietly, following Harry to his car.

As you settled into the passenger seat, the silence between you was heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Harry started the car and pulled away from the courthouse, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he navigated the familiar streets towards your parents' house.

The journey passed in silence, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air. When you finally arrived at your destination, you made a move to get out of the car, eager to put some distance between yourself and Harry.

But before you could escape, Harry reached out and gently grasped your hand, his eyes pleading with you to listen. "I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I always will."

You looked at him, your heart aching with conflicting emotions. "I don't believe you," you replied bitterly, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

Harry's expression fell, his shoulders slumping with defeat. "I know I've hurt you," he admitted, his voice thick with regret. "I was an idiot, I said things I didn't mean. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

You clenched your fists, the urge to lash out at him almost overwhelming. "Why did you say those things, Harry?" you demanded, your voice trembling with anger. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

Harry hung his head, his eyes filled with shame. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I was stupid, I let my insecurities get the best of me. But I swear, I never stopped loving you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of frustration and sadness threatening to overwhelm you. "I want to hit you," you confessed, your voice choked with emotion. "I want to scream and yell and make you feel even a fraction of the pain you've caused me."

Harry nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I deserve it," he whispered. "If hurting me will help you heal, then I'll bear it. I'll bear anything."

For a moment, you looked at him, considering his words and the sincerity in his eyes. The image of your father's swift justice flashed in your mind, the memory of Harry's crooked nose a constant reminder of the pain and betrayal you had endured. Despite his pleading gaze and the faint glimmer of hope that lingered in your heart, you couldn't bring yourself to fully trust him again.

With a heavy sigh, you shook your head, the weight of your decision settling over you like a leaden cloak. "No," you said softly, your voice tinged with sadness and finality. "My father already did a great job on your nose."

Harry's lips twitched into a small smile, a hint of humor flickering in his eyes. "Well, I must say, I think it gives me a certain charm," he joked, his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat in the face of your solemn expression.

You looked at him, your heart aching with conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to believe that Harry could change, that perhaps there was still a chance for reconciliation. But the wounds he had inflicted ran deep, and you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

Without another word, you reached out and touched his shoulder, a silent gesture of farewell. "Goodbye, Harry," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the quiet hum of the night.

Harry's hand trembled as he reached up to stroke your cheek, his touch gentle and tentative. "Goodbye," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

In that moment, it was as if you were drawn to each other by some invisible force, the weight of years of love and pain pulling you together one last time. With a soft sigh, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the longing and regret that lingered between you.

As you kissed, the familiar sensation of Harry's glasses pressing against your face brought a flood of memories rushing back, memories of happier times when love had seemed like an unbreakable bond. But as you pulled away, the reality of your situation crashed down upon you with suffocating force, the weight of your decision hanging heavy in the air.

Harry looked at you with pleading eyes, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "Is there really no chance for us, for me to make things right?" he asked softly, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hope.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to forgive and the need to protect yourself from further pain. "I don't know, Harry," you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. "But for now, goodbye."

With a heavy heart, you slowly opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you like a physical burden. As you turned to face Harry one last time, you saw the anguish etched into his features, a mirror of the pain that gnawed at your own heart.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from him. But then, with a resigned sigh, you turned away and began to make your way towards the familiar front door of your parents' house.

Behind you, you could hear the soft sound of Harry's voice calling out to you, a desperate plea tinged with sorrow and regret. But you couldn't bring yourself to respond, couldn't bear to face him any longer.

As you reached the front door, you fumbled for your keys, your hands shaking with a mixture of sadness and determination. With a final glance over your shoulder, you saw Harry still sitting in the car, his head bowed in defeat.

With a heavy heart, you opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of home enveloping you like a comforting embrace. But despite the warmth and familiarity of your surroundings, you couldn't shake the sense of emptiness that lingered within you, a hollow ache that seemed to echo with every beat of your heart.

Meanwhile, as Harry watched from inside the car, a profound sense of emptiness settled over him like a heavy blanket, weighing down his already heavy heart. He banged his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, the dull thud echoing in the quiet confines of the car, a physical manifestation of the pain and regret that gnawed at his soul.

Despite his best efforts to put on a brave face and move on with his life, the reality of the divorce hit him with crushing force, leaving him feeling lost and adrift in a sea of sorrow. He had hoped against hope that there might still be a chance for reconciliation, but as he watched you disappear into the house, the finality of your decision washed over him with suffocating force.

With a resigned sigh, Harry started the car engine again, his mind consumed with thoughts of what could have been. Part of him wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol, to numb the pain and forget the ache in his heart even for just a fleeting moment.

But deep down, he knew that running away from his feelings would only prolong the agony, trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive behavior that would only serve to push him further away from the possibility of healing and redemption. And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, he drove home, knowing that he would have to face his demons head-on and confront the pain that threatened to consume him.

As he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, suffusing the darkness with an oppressive sense of loneliness and regret. With a heavy sigh, Harry stepped out of the car and made his way inside, bracing himself for the long and difficult journey ahead.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, you found yourself gradually healing from the pain of the divorce. Being apart from Harry allowed you to focus more on yourself, and you threw yourself into your work with renewed determination. Eventually, you landed a good job and made the decision to move out of your parents' house, opting for a bachelor apartment where you could start fresh and forge your own path.

Living alone had its challenges, but you relished the newfound freedom and independence. No longer tethered to Harry or the responsibilities of maintaining a household, you embraced your new routine with gusto. Taking care of yourself became a priority, and you found solace in simple pleasures like cooking healthy meals, going for walks in the park, and indulging in your favorite hobbies.

Despite the busy days and fulfilling work, there were nights when the silence of your apartment felt overwhelming. Lying alone in your bed, you couldn't help but feel the absence of Harry's presence beside you. The memories of his embrace and the warmth of his touch lingered in the corners of your mind, a bittersweet reminder of the love you had once shared.

But you refused to dwell on the past, choosing instead to focus on the present and the future ahead. You threw yourself into socializing with friends, enjoying nights out on the town and creating new memories to replace the ones you had lost. Laughter became your medicine, and the support of your friends helped ease the ache in your heart.

Meanwhile, Harry found himself caught in a monotonous routine, the days blurring together in a haze of work and solitude. He tried his best to move on and heal, immersing himself in his career and the mundane tasks of daily life. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of you that haunted him at every turn.

Every corner of his house seemed to echo with the ghost of your presence, a constant reminder of the life he had lost. He tried to drown out the pain with distractions, ordering takeout and burying himself in work, but nothing seemed to ease the ache in his heart.

One day, in a moment of spontaneity, Harry decided to break free from his routine and venture out to a bar. He didn't have any expectations; he simply wanted a change of scenery and a chance to escape the suffocating solitude of his home.

As he walked into the dimly lit bar, his eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. And then, to his surprise and disbelief, he spotted you sitting at a table with a group of friends, your laughter ringing out like a beacon of light in the dimly lit room.

You looked beautiful, radiant even, and Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from you. Despite the passage of time, you still held a special place in his heart, a place that had never been filled by anyone else.

Feeling a surge of courage, Harry made his way to the bar and ordered a drink, his mind racing with uncertainty and anticipation. Should he approach you? Would you even want to see him after everything that had happened between you?

Before he could second-guess himself, Harry made a split-second decision and sent a drink over to your table, a silent gesture of reconciliation and longing. As the bartender delivered the drink, Harry watched nervously from afar, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for your reaction.

You were taken aback when the bartender approached your table, a mischievous glint in his eye as he delivered the news of the mysterious drink sender. Your friends erupted into laughter, teasing you mercilessly as they speculated about the identity of your admirer.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, you followed the bartender's gaze towards the bar, where he pointed out the man who had sent the drink. And there, amidst the dimly lit ambiance of the bar, stood Harry, looking surprisingly handsome with his slightly disheveled hair and the first buttons on his open blue shirt.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a rush of conflicting emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. Despite everything that had transpired between you, the love you had once shared still lingered deep within your heart, refusing to be extinguished by time or circumstance.

As Harry caught your eye, a tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. For a moment, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, captivated by the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you together despite the distance and pain that separated you.

Against all odds, you made a split-second decision, fueled by a mixture of nostalgia and longing. With a determined flicker in your eyes, you accepted the drink, raising your glass in a silent toast to Harry. And to your surprise, he returned the gesture with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with unspoken emotion.

Excusing yourself from your friends, you made your way through the crowded bar, each step bringing you closer to Harry and the possibility of reconciliation. As you approached him, your heart raced in your chest, the weight of your decision hanging heavy in the air.

"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him, your eyes searching his for any sign of regret or longing.

"Hi," Harry replied, his voice filled with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."

You smiled, a bittersweet mixture of sadness and hope tugging at your heartstrings. "I wasn't sure either," you admitted, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "But here we are."

Harry reached out tentatively, his hand brushing against yours in a silent gesture of comfort and reassurance. "I've missed you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can say."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of years of love and pain crashing down around you like a tidal wave. "I've missed you too," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

In that moment, all the barriers and walls that had separated you melted away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth of your love for each other.

And as you and Harry sat at the bar, the hours seemed to fly by as you talked and laughed like you hadn't done in years. The conversation flowed effortlessly, each word a balm to the wounds that had festered between you for so long. It was as if time had stood still, allowing you to recapture the intimacy and connection that had once defined your relationship.

You told Harry about your job at the library, how you had found solace in the quiet aisles filled with books and stories waiting to be discovered. The passion in your voice was palpable as you spoke about your love for literature and your dream of one day writing a novel of your own. Harry listened attentively, his eyes lighting up with a familiar spark of admiration and pride.

"I remember when we used to talk about writing," Harry mused, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "It was always one of your dreams, to be a writer."

You nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yes, it was," you admitted, your voice tinged with longing. "But life got in the way, I suppose."

Harry reached out and squeezed your hand gently, a silent gesture of understanding and support. "It's never too late to chase your dreams, you know," he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

You felt a surge of warmth at his words, a renewed sense of hope blossoming within you like a flower in bloom. Despite everything that had happened between you, Harry still believed in you, still saw the potential within you that you had long since forgotten.

As the night wore on, Harry opened up about his own struggles in the months since your divorce. His life had become monotonous and empty, a never-ending cycle of work and solitude that left him feeling adrift and alone. But despite the emptiness that had settled in his heart, he found solace in the memories of the love you had once shared.

"It's been tough," Harry confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "But seeing you tonight, it's reminded me of what I've been missing."

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, a tender gesture of comfort and reassurance. "I've missed you too, Harry," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

There was a moment of silence as you both let the weight of your words sink in, the air between you heavy with unspoken emotion. And then, with a hesitant smile, you broached the topic that had been lingering in the back of your mind since the moment you saw him.

"Are you seeing anyone?" you asked softly, your voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

Harry took a sip of his brandy, his expression thoughtful as he considered his answer. "No," he replied simply, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. "I haven't been with anyone since..."

Since Mia, you both knew without needing to say it aloud. The memory of Harry's infidelity hung between you like a shadow, a constant reminder of the pain and betrayal that had torn you apart.

You nodded, a flicker of skepticism in your eyes as you thought of the woman who had come between you. "What about Mia?" you asked cautiously. "Is she still in the picture?"

Harry's expression darkened at the mention of her name, his jaw clenched with frustration and regret. "No," he said tersely, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I fired her a few weeks after the divorce. I couldn't stand the sight of her."

You sighed softly, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. Despite everything that had happened between you, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the woman who had caused so much pain and heartache.

"I'm sorry, Harry," you murmured, reaching out to squeeze his hand in a silent gesture of comfort. "I know it must have been difficult for you."

Harry met your gaze, his eyes filled with gratitude and remorse. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But enough about me. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

You shook your head, a faint blush creeping into your cheeks. "No," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But my mother seems determined to change that."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his hand tightening around his brandy glass as he listened intently to your words. "Your mother?" he echoed, his tone filled with curiosity.

You nodded, a rueful chuckle escaping your lips. "Yes, my mother," you confirmed, shaking your head in disbelief. "I can't tell you how many times she's tried to set me up with some friend's son or another. It's exhausting, really."

Harry's lips twitched into a small smile, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sounds like your mother hasn't lost her matchmaking touch," he remarked, a note of nostalgia creeping into his voice.

You chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the dimly lit bar. "No, she definitely hasn't," you agreed, a fond smile playing at your lips. "But I suppose it's her way of showing she cares."

Harry nodded in understanding, though the thought of you with someone else made his heart ache with a pang of jealousy and longing. He couldn't bear the idea of you moving on with someone new, of sharing your laughter and your dreams with anyone but him.

As the weight of his emotions settled over him like a heavy cloak, Harry took a sip of his brandy, the liquid burning a fiery path down his throat. He couldn't shake the image of you with another man from his mind, couldn't bear the thought of someone else holding your hand or making you smile.

"I can't imagine you with anyone else," Harry confessed quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "You've always been the one for me, even when I didn't realize it."

You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say in response to Harry's confession. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you, filling the space with a tangible sense of longing and regret. You glanced down at your martini glass, swirling the contents absently as you struggled to find the right words.

The bar clock caught your eye, and you realized with a start that it was already late. Glancing over at your friends' table, you saw that it was empty—all of your friends had left while you were lost in conversation with Harry.

"Looks like my ride left without me," you mentioned, a note of resignation creeping into your voice as you turned back to Harry.

He looked at you with a hint of concern, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked, his voice laced with sincerity.

You hesitated, skeptical of accepting his offer given the circumstances. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" you questioned, eyeing him carefully.

Harry leaned towards you, his tone low he spoke in that baritone voice that you always found sexy. "I've only had one glass of brandy all night," he reassured you, a faint smile playing at his lips. "I can hold my drink, trust me."

You remained skeptical, knowing all too well how easily one drink could turn into several. But despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the allure of the idea of spending more time with Harry, even if it was just a car ride home.

With a resigned sigh, you nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but promise me you'll drive carefully," you said firmly, your voice tinged with concern.

Harry nodded, his expression serious as he reached for his wallet to settle the bill. "I promise," he replied earnestly, his gaze locking with yours. "I'll get you home safely, I swear."

As Harry paid the bill and you gathered your things, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest. Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, there was a small part of you that dared to hope for a chance at reconciliation, a chance to mend the broken pieces of your relationship and start anew.

With a final glance around the bar, you followed Harry out into the cool night air, the distant hum of the city enveloping you like a familiar embrace. As you settled into the passenger seat of his car, the tension between you was palpable, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air like a silent prayer.

As Harry started the engine, the soft purr of the car filled the silence between you, a tangible reminder of the journey ahead. He glanced over at you, his gaze lingering on your profile as he mustered the courage to break the awkward silence.

"So, are you still living with your parents?" Harry asked tentatively, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You shook your head, a faint blush creeping into your cheeks. "No, I actually moved out a few months ago," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have a small apartment near the city center."

Harry's eyebrows lifted in surprise, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That's great," he remarked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad to hear you're starting fresh."

You returned his smile, though there was a hint of sadness in your eyes. "It's been an adjustment, but I'm managing," you admitted, your voice tinged with resignation.

As Harry pulled away from the curb, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in the sight of you sitting beside him. Despite the pain and uncertainty that lingered between you, you looked beautiful, with your hair softly framing your face and the moonlight casting a gentle glow over your features.

But as his eyes trailed down to the skirt you were wearing, a pang of jealousy shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He couldn't help but imagine other men ogling at your legs or stealing glances at your backside, and the thought made his blood boil with irrational anger.

Quickly pushing aside his jealousy, Harry focused on the road ahead, his hands tightening around the steering wheel with a mixture of determination and frustration. He knew he had no right to feel possessive of you after everything that had happened between you, but the thought of anyone else laying eyes on you filled him with a primal urge to protect what was his.

As the GPS woman's voice instructed him to turn left, Harry obeyed without hesitation, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips and lose himself in the depths of your gaze.

But on the other hand, he knew he had no right to intrude upon your personal space or make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to push you away with his own selfish desires, especially when he knew he had already hurt you enough with his past mistakes.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry drove on in silence, the only sound filling the car the soft hum of the engine and the occasional instruction from the GPS woman. Meanwhile, you sat beside him, lost in your own thoughts as you watched the familiar streets of London pass by in a blur.

Despite the tension that hung heavy in the air between you, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort in being with Harry again. The years of shared memories and experiences had created an unbreakable bond between you, one that even the pain of betrayal couldn't erase.

As you gazed out the window, the city lights dancing in the darkness, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and Harry. Would you be able to move past the pain and betrayal that had torn you apart, or were you destined to remain forever trapped in the shadows of your past mistakes?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the way Harry's gaze lingered on you, his heart aching with longing and regret. Despite his best efforts to push aside his feelings, he couldn't deny the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch you, to hold you close and never let go.

But as the GPS woman's voice filled the car once again, Harry pushed aside his wayward thoughts and focused on the task at hand. With a determined flicker in his eyes, he continued to drive towards your apartment, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air like a silent promise of what could be.

As you neared your destination, Harry glanced over at you one last time, his heart swelling with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Despite the obstacles that lay ahead, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for redemption and forgiveness.

With a silent prayer in his heart, Harry turned his attention back to the road, determined to do whatever it took to make things right between you. And as the lights of your apartment building came into view, he felt a surge of determination wash over him, a newfound resolve to fight for the love that had always been worth fighting for.

Harry stopped the car and turned to you, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he met your gaze. You held your bag tightly, gratitude swelling in your chest as you thanked him for the ride. Harry nodded, brushing off your gratitude with a casual wave of his hand.

"It was nothing," he replied, his voice soft yet tinged with warmth. Despite the awkwardness that lingered between you, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort in his presence that you couldn't deny.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, unsure of how to say goodbye. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, suffusing the space between you with a tangible sense of uncertainty and longing. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, the urge to break the silence almost overwhelming.

Finally, you mustered the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper as you bid Harry farewell. "Goodbye," you said awkwardly, your words hanging in the air like a silent prayer.

Harry watched you with a hint of sadness in his eyes, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. "Goodbye," he echoed softly, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you get out of the car and walk to the door of your apartment.

As you reached for the door handle, your fingers fumbling with the latch, you couldn't help but feel a surge of embarrassment at your own clumsiness. The damn stubborn door seemed to mock you with its refusal to cooperate, adding to the awkwardness of the moment.

But before you could fully open the door, Harry surprised you by stepping out of the car and coming to stand beside you. You looked up at him, surprised to see him so close, his presence towering over you like a protective shield.

"Let me help you with that," Harry offered gently, reaching out to take the key from your hand.

You handed him the key with a sheepish smile, feeling a flush of embarrassment at your own incompetence. "The door can be a bit stubborn sometimes," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Harry chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he struggled with the stubborn lock. Despite his best efforts, the door seemed determined to thwart his attempts, but he persevered, his determination unwavering.

After a few moments of struggle, Harry finally managed to coax the stubborn door open, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him, feeling a surge of affection for the man who had always been there for you, even in the smallest of ways.

"Thank you," you said gratefully, reaching out to take the key from him.

Harry's touch lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. In that moment, it was as if the air crackled with tension, the space between you charged with unspoken desire and longing.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew you together, you dropped your bag to the ground and reached out to him, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of the love and longing that still lingered between you.

Harry's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intensity of the kiss as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

But as the kiss threatened to consume you both, you pulled away, your chest heaving with exertion as you struggled to catch your breath. "Come up with me," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes.

Harry hesitated, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. "I want to," he admitted softly, his voice filled with longing. "But only if you're sure. I won't do it if you're not ready."

You were taken aback by his words, surprised by his sudden show of restraint. The old Harry would have jumped at the chance to go up to your apartment without a second thought, but this Harry was different. This Harry wanted to make sure that you were truly ready, that it wasn't just a fleeting desire or the alcohol talking.

You admired his newfound sense of self-awareness and respect, knowing that he was putting your needs and feelings above his own desires. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the growth and maturity that had taken root within him since the divorce.

"I appreciate that," you replied softly, your voice tinged with gratitude. "But I am sure. I want this, Harry. I want you."

With a silent nod, Harry leaned in to kiss you once more, his lips meeting yours in a tender embrace that spoke of love and longing. And as you lost yourselves in the heat of the moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and excitement for the future that lay ahead.

As you turned away from Harry, a rush of anticipation coursed through your veins, your heart pounding with excitement at the prospect of finally being alone with him again. With a determined flicker in your eyes, you took Harry's hand and led him towards your apartment, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of reassurance and longing.

Harry let himself be carried away by the tide of emotion, his gaze fixed on your profile as you walked together in silence. Despite the awkwardness that lingered between you, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort in being with you again, a feeling that he had longed for since the day you left.

As you reached your apartment door, you turned to face Harry, a nervous smile playing at your lips as you fumbled with the keys. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air between you, suffusing the space with a tangible sense of anticipation and longing.

With a determined twist of the key, you finally managed to coax the stubborn lock open, the door swinging open with a soft creak. Harry watched you with a mixture of admiration and amusement, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he followed you inside.

You let out a relieved sigh as you stepped into the familiar warmth of your apartment, the scent of lavender and vanilla enveloping you like a comforting embrace. With a casual flick of your wrist, you tossed your bag aside, the action earning a raised eyebrow from Harry.

He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the cluttered room. "I see you've embraced a more... carefree approach to tidiness," he remarked teasingly, his lips twitching into a playful smile.

You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation, a playful glint in your eyes as you shrugged off his comment. "Oh, hush," you replied teasingly, your voice tinged with laughter. "I can be messy if I want to be."

Harry grinned, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of your playful banter. Despite everything that had happened between you, there was still a spark of the old chemistry that had drawn you together in the first place, a connection that refused to be extinguished by time or circumstance.

As you leaned towards him once more, the air between you crackling with tension and desire, Harry's heart raced in his chest, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. He couldn't deny the overwhelming urge to pull you close, to lose himself in the warmth of your embrace and forget about everything else for a while.

But as his fingers brushed against the buttons of your shirt, Harry hesitated, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You met his gaze with a determined flicker in your eyes, your lips curling into a confident smile as you reassured him of your desires. "I want this, Harry," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you."

A surge of relief washed over Harry at your words, his heart swelling with joy at the prospect of finally being with you again. "I want this too," he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

With a silent nod, you leaned in to kiss him once more, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace that spoke volumes of the love and longing that still lingered between you. Harry's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire.

As the heat of the moment threatened to consume you both, you pulled away, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to catch your breath. "Let's take this to the bedroom," you suggested huskily, your voice thick with desire.

Harry's heart raced in his chest at your suggestion, his mind reeling with anticipation at the thought of finally being alone with you. With a silent nod, he followed you eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest as you led him towards the bedroom.

As you reached the door, you turned to face Harry, a playful glint in your eyes as you reached for the handle. "Ready?" you asked teasingly, your voice tinged with excitement.

Harry grinned, his heart pounding with anticipation as he nodded eagerly. "More than ready," he replied, his voice thick with desire.

As you opened the door to your dimly lit bedroom, Harry's lips met yours in a fervent kiss, the passion between you igniting like a wildfire. With a soft moan, you melted into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his hair as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

Entering the bedroom together, Harry gently pushed you towards the bed, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you stumbled backward onto the soft mattress. But as soon as you landed on the bed, you let out a groan of discomfort, the pain of your heels finally catching up to you.

"Wait," you gasped, wincing as you kicked off your shoes. "These stupid heels are killing me."

Harry laughed softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you kick off your shoes. "Let me help you with that," he offered, bending down to untie his own shoes.

Once you were both free from the confines of your footwear, you returned to each other's arms, the heat of desire burning between you like a smoldering ember. With trembling hands, you began to undress each other, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of Harry's shirt as he kissed a trail along your neck.

His baritone voice sent shivers down your spine as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his warm breath caressing your skin like a gentle breeze. With a sigh of contentment, you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress as he explored every inch of your skin with his lips and hands.

As Harry's shirt was discarded to the floor, you couldn't help but admire the sight of him, his lean frame illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Despite the passage of time, he still looked as handsome as ever, his hooked nose and glasses adding to his rugged charm.

But as your eyes met his, you saw something deeper than just physical attraction—a longing and a hunger that mirrored your own. With a soft gasp, you reached out to him, your fingers trailing along the contours of his chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"You're beautiful," Harry murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to kiss you once more. "I've missed you so much."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the weight of his confession crashing down on you like a tidal wave. "I've missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

With a tender smile, Harry took your wrists in his hands, pinning them gently above your head as he hovered over you. His touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, the heat of desire pooling in the pit of your stomach as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch.

As Harry's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake, you let out a soft moan of pleasure, your body arching towards his in silent invitation.

As you and Harry continued to explore each other's bodies, the intensity of your connection deepened with each touch and caress. With tender kisses and gentle whispers, Harry made love to you in a way that felt both familiar and new, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

As he entered you, his cock filling you completely, you couldn't help but gasp at the sensation of being joined with him once more. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming your skin with reverence and desire as he worshipped every inch of you.

With each thrust, Harry's baritone voice filled the room, his words a sweet melody that echoed in your ears like a love song. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing along your jawline as he peppered your skin with kisses. "Perfect. So sweet."

His words sent shivers down your spine, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch. Despite the doubts and insecurities that lingered in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the familiarity of his touch reassuring you that you were exactly where you belonged.

As Harry continued to make love to you with a tenderness that took your breath away, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the realization that he was praising every part of you that he had insulted in his messages to Mia. But you pushed those thoughts aside, choosing instead to focus on the present moment and the love that still burned brightly between you.

With each whispered compliment and gentle caress, Harry reaffirmed his love for you, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked deeply into your eyes. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his confession, the weight of his words washing over you like a tidal wave. "I love you too," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But please, don't hurt me again. Don't cheat on me."

Harry's expression softened, his heart swelling with remorse as he held you close. "I promise," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I'll never hurt you again. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

You nodded, your heart heavy with emotion as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you held him close. "You better," you whispered through tears, your voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "Or I'll cut off your dick, no matter how good it is."

Harry chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he met your gaze. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust," he promised solemnly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Even if it means giving you the knife myself."

With a soft smile, you nodded in understanding, the weight of his promise easing the ache in your heart. "I believe you," you whispered, your voice tinged with hope. "I trust you, Harry. Just don't ever hurt me again."

And as you and Harry continued to make love, the passion between you burning brighter than ever before, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you like a gentle wave. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything that life threw your way.

#harry #love actually #mia #harry x reader #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Extra (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader x Ace Trappola)

This is not a continuation from the main story, more like a side story of one of your day with Malleus and family

*Chapter start from below trailer*

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth

>> EXTRA &lt;<

Your mind felt hazy and unfocused, as you become increasingly unaware of your surroundings, as your mind started to feel more and more blank and detached from reality. You had a feeling of confusion and uncertainty, as you felt like you were forgetting something but could not seem to figure out what it was. Your thoughts seem to be scattered and unfocussed, as you attempt to make sense of your feelings and thoughts, and try to determine exactly what it was that you are forgetting. Something that you held dear in your heart.

A sudden cooing sound shattered your trance, and you found in your arms, there was a baby. The feelings of confusion and uncertainty disappear immediately as a motherly thought comes rushing into your head. The baby stirred softly in your arms, letting out a sweet and adorable cooing sound, causing a deep sense of warmth and love to overwhelm you. You began playing and cooing to the baby in your arms, which seems to have triggered a sudden desire to care and protect this small, innocent life in your hands. Slowly, your surrounding came into view.

As you stared at the baby in your arms, Malleus whispered tenderly in your ear. "Our baby is so beautiful," he says lovingly, "she looks just like you. She has your eyes, nose, and mouth." Your husband wrapped his hands around your waist from behind, pulling you gently closer to him, and kissed the top of your head affectionately. As usual, he showered you with a lot of love and care. How could you secure yourself a husband like Malleus?

"Now, we must hire a guard for our precious daughter. Levan and Marcellus keep disturbing Lilia and Sebek all the time, so they are too occupied to take care of her. How about we hire Sil…" You felt like the word you were trying to pronounce had suddenly become lost from your mind, making it impossible to continue speaking. Malleus noticed this, in response, his grip on your body tightened a bit too much as he kissed your nape gently. His lips still pressed against your neck as he tried to divert your focus.

"The matters of hiring a bodyguard can wait until later. I will take care of that. You don't need to worry, my darling wife."

As you tried to focus your mind and recalled what you were forgetting beforehand, the bed shook and jolted repeatedly due to the sudden, frantic movements of your two kids. Levan and Marcellus were attempting to climb onto the bed with their small, tiny feet and arms, their faces filled with joy and excitement as they tried to get to their younger sister.

"We want to meet our younger sister!" Levan and Marcellus both shouted, their voices filled with excitement and enthusiasm. They were eager to see their new baby sister, and they were eager to interact with her and play with her.

Malleus's tone of voice instantly shifted to one of sternness and severity, as he spoke to his two kids. "Levan, Marcellus," he said firmly and resolutely, "Both of you should be sleeping now. What are you doing here still wide awake?"

The two boys looked up at their father, their eyes filled with innocence and pure joy. "We want to meet our younger sister!" they replied excitedly and cheerfully, repeating their previous statement.

"Come on kids, it's late. You can meet your baby sister in the morning. Let's go to bed now," Malleus said in a much kinder tone, as he gently pulled your two kids off the bed.

"Mama! Help!" Marcellus called to you as Malleus tried to pull both him and his brother off the bed. Malleus was attempting to get them into bed to make sure they get some sleep, but Marcellus was apparently trying to get away from his father and hide behind you.

"You really want to meet your sister that much?" Malleus asked his kids, who both nod their heads enthusiastically. "Yes! She's so adorable. We want to see her! Plus her horn is cute too!" Levan replied, with Marcellus nodding his head furiously.

"Don't you both already play with Malyssa this morning?" You asked both of your sons, to which they both nod their heads enthusiastically. "Yes, we did!" Levan said. "But we played with her only for a few minutes! That's not enough! We want to play with her some more!"

"My sons, you two played with her for hours," you said, trying to reason with Marcellus and Levan. They both looked a little guilty, as they realised that they had been trying to justify the fact that they want more time with their little sister. "I know, but…" Levan started to speak dejectedly.

"But if you two want to see your younger sister, mama will not prevent that if you only want to say goodnight. Wake up early and play with her, alright?" You promised them, and they both smile brightly at your words, clearly delighted with the compromise.

"We will. We promise," Levan said, as Marcellus nodded his head enthusiastically behind him, the both of them happy with the compromise. They both seemed content with the decision, and both promised to wake up early in the morning so they could spend more time with their newborn baby sister.

Levan and Marcellus both eagerly went closer in order to see their baby sister in your arms, their eyes filled with delight and excitement.

They both begun to poke her cheeks, to which the baby responded by giggling and laughing in an adorable way. Levan snuggled towards her tightly, burying his faces into her in order to smell her soft and baby scent.

"Aww, she smells so good," Levan said softly.

Marcellus suddenly spoke up, seeming a little jealous for his little sister's attention. "Brother, I want to snuggle with her too." Levan immediately looked a little annoyed, as he did not like to share his baby sister. He frowned and pushed Marcellus away, moving closer to the baby and snuggling her tighter to himself.

The two siblings immediately started to fight over the baby, as Marcellus tried to push his brother away in order to claim her for himself. Before the fight could escalate further, Malleus immediately separated the two boys, as he didn't want them to get into a full on brawl over their baby sister. Malleus gently lifted both Levan and Marcellus apart, as he tried to break up their fight.

"Boys, we don't solve our issues by fighting," Malleus said sternly.

"You both will get to spend time with your little sister tomorrow morning, okay? We'll all be happy with her. But tonight, let's just sleep so we can have a good rest."

"Plus mama and Malyssa are both mine," Malleus smirked at his sons, who both looked a bit disappointed by his statement.

"Aww, no fair!" Levan and Marcellus protested in unison, not liking the fact that their father is claiming their mother and younger sister all for himself.

"I'm the one who created you guys, so everything belongs to me," Malleus said teasingly, but with a hint of a menacing undertone in his voice that caught you off guard. His words made you flinch involuntarily, as you felt slightly uneasy with the way he said it. The two sons both seemed to treat their dad's comment as though it was nothing but a harmless joke, and they both laughed along with the banter.

"Yes," Levan giggled, "You are our papa, right?" Marcellus nodded his head eagerly, giggling as well, as he seemed to be having a good time as well.

You quickly caught a glimpse of your husband's expression, which was showing an uneasy and menacing side to his demeanor, as he continued to tease and banter with his two sons.

You had the feeling that he was getting too riled up by their banter, and that you needed to intervene before the situation became even more intense and unpleasant.

"Alright, that's enough. Both of you need to sleep now." You gently but firmly said. The two boys both looked a bit disappointed for a moment and they exchanged a disapproving glance, but they eventually gave in and nodded their heads, as they realized you were serious.

As you want to get off the bed to send your sons to their bedroom, Malleus quickly caught your wrist before you could move.

He did not make any hostile or violent movement, but his grip was firm and he didn't seem inclined to let you go, a slight edge in his tone as he spoke.

"I will send them to their room. You stay here, my darling wife," Malleus's tone of voice was still playful, but his grip on your wrists had become tighter, and there was a subtle but perceptible warning in his voice, as he told you to stay right there. Malleus's look was filled with love, as he softly kissed you on your lips, his lips lingering for just a bit longer than necessary.

"Making them sleep might take a while," he said, "so you need to be good and stay right here. I will be back soon and when I am, we can enjoy ourselves for the whole night."

Your mind was still spinning from the intense feeling of affectionate romance that his kiss, as both of your sons thankfully already exited the room before they could get their eyes stuck on this steamy romance.

Malleus quickly got off the bed and left the room, quickly turning off the light as he went to send your sons off to sleep. Now you and your baby are left alone in the bedroom, and you could see its dark shadows cast upon you both. It was a quiet and peaceful time, just the two of you together.

@d3sperate-enuf

#romance #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #ace trappola x you #diasomnia x reader #heartslaybul x reader #disney twisted wonderland #female reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader

[everlasting-evocation]

The second half of the secret history is such a reality check. Up until this point, despite saying from the beginning that he was a liar, Richard's storytelling feels surprisingly sound to the point where it's so easy to believe everything he says until the cracks start to show and you realize just how shallow the connections between the students in the Greek class truly are. It feels so strange reading through Richard's accounts of what the other characters have said and done as the gradual betrayal of their 'true selves' beyond the initial romanticization proceed to completely recontextualize the whole novel. As a result, it's completely earth shattering to have all these revelations in quick succession and it truly feels like Bunny's funeral was the catalyst for everything coming to a head and subsequently crashing down as the illusions and idealistic world Richard his imposed upon his story up until that point is pulled back to reveal the harsh truths that feel nearly impossible to stomach.

#the secret history #tsh #bunny corcoran #henry winter #francis abernathy #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #richard papen #maybe i'm being dramatic but this book has confused me so much and I love it. #“uncle bunny called me a bastard” will never not be funny #trying to search for significance in the smallest instances of foreshadowing and characterization is driving me mad

[didyoutrydynamite]

Sneaky Sneaky

Pair of Guards: *Guarding a building’s entrance*

Guard 1: ...Hey, do you hear something?

Guard 2: No? What am I supposed to be hearing?

Guard 1: It sounds like... footsteps?

Guard 2: I’m not... wait, no, I think I hear it now. *Looks around* Is someone approaching us?

Guard 1: Sounds like several people. Shit, it sounds like they’re right next to us- *Proceeds to get sucker punched by an armored fist seemingly shattering it’s way through reality*

Guard 2: *Too busy being headbutted by Adam, his face breaking through Neo’s illusion and slamming his horned forehead into the unsuspecting guard*

Pair of Guards: *Slump against the wall*

Renegades: *Standing as a group as Neo’s illusion completely shatters away*

Jaune: *Pokes one of the unconscious guards with his foot* You know when you said we were “going in stealthily” this is not what I had pictured.

Cinder: Well, they didn’t see it coming, did they?

Neo: *Conjures graffiti onto the nearby wall* Would have been even sneakier if you giants didn’t have such big clomping feet. They heard us coming a mile away!

Adam: *Shakes the dizziness out of his skull from that headbutt* Or maybe we should have asked politely and say “pretty please” so Huntsman can feel good about himself.

Jaune: *Exasperated sigh* Please, I’m not THAT bad. I can get my hands dirty when necessary. I just punched this guy, didn’t I? Like, really hard. All I’m saying is that if we’re being sneaky we could at least use the back door instead.

Cinder: *Offended* And walk all the way around the building? Please, Jaune, our time is far too precious for such trivialities.

#renegade au #jaune arc #cinder fall #neo politan #adam taurus

[sinisteryanderescribe]

::: An Interesting Encounter :::

…………………………………………………………………………….

In the aftermath of a devastating apocalypse that has shattered society and left deadly diseases and infections rampant, a group of survivors has emerged, characterized by their cold and harsh demeanor. The destruction and isolation wrought by the apocalypse has taken a heavy toll on the group, leaving them distrustful, weary, and hardened by their experiences.

The survivors' harshness can be attributed to the trauma and loss they have endured, as well as the constant struggle for survival in a world that has been torn apart. Their cold and distant nature may stem from a need to protect themselves emotionally, as forming attachments could potentially lead to further heartache in their precarious circumstances. Additionally, the pervasive threat of deadly diseases and infections has likely instilled a sense of hypervigilance and wariness within the group, further contributing to their guarded behavior.

Despite their tough exterior, their demeanour is a coping mechanism, born out of necessity rather than malice. Their experiences have forced them to adopt a pragmatic, survival-focused mindset, prioritizing self-preservation above all else. This has inevitably led to an erosion of trust and empathy, as the group has learned to view the world through a lens of skepticism and caution.

As the group of survivors patrolled the desolate and ruined landscape, they stumbled upon a building where they heard the moans and cries of your voice who was trapped under a pile of rubble. The group, though initially wary and distrusting, ultimately decided to help the injured individual. As they carefully approached the source of the agonized sounds, they discovered you pinned beneath the debris, clearly in need of assistance.

Of course you would be startled at first with their sudden appearance but hope was the next feeling that filled your eyes.

The rescue effort was led by a man dressed in all black, wearing a gas mask to protect himself from the contaminated surroundings. With caution and precision, he skillfully maneuvered the heavy and sharp rocks that had entrapped you, eventually managing to free you by carefully pulling you out by the waist.

you find yourself being cared for by a white-haired woman with red tips at the end of her hair. Like the rest of the group, she wears a gas mask, a necessary precaution in the hazardous environment they inhabit. Her gentle but methodical touch conveys a sense of expertise and experience as she tends to your wounds, her eyes expressing though was emotionless and hard concentrated on wrapping up any deep wounds which you were thankful for.

Meanwhile, the man who had pulled you from the rubble takes on a more guarded stance, his gaze unwavering as he begins to question you. It's clear that he's maintaining a vigilant watch over you, wary of any potential threat you might pose. His demeanor makes you nervous, but you understand the necessity of his caution given the harsh reality of the world you now find yourself in.

Despite the tension, you answer his questions, providing information about your background, your profession as a doctor, and any other pertinent details. It's a relief to see a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he introduces himself as Luchino, acknowledging your responses with a measured nod. His name carries a weight of authority within the group, and you sense that he plays a significant role in their dynamics.

In a gesture of cautious camaraderie, Luchino proceeds to introduce you to the others, each member donning a mask like his own, their eyes reflecting a mix of wariness and curiosity as they take in your presence.

As Luchino introduces you to his group, you learn that the woman tending to your injuries is Ada, her white hair with red tips marking her as a unique presence within the group. With each careful movement, she conveys both expertise and a sense of intelligence , her focused attention speaking volumes about her dedication to aiding you in your time of need.

Meanwhile, a woman named Xiao Loa stands guard, her figure cloaked in a striking white dress coat. You notice her brief glance in your direction, though it's clear that her interest lies elsewhere, her demeanor exuding an air of detached indifference. Her inscrutable gaze leaves you with a sense of unease, as you wonder about the complexities hidden beneath her composed exterior.

Standing slightly apart from the others is Frederick, his posture exuding an aura of reserved scrutiny as he appraises you with a probing gaze. The intensity of his scrutiny puts you on edge, yet you find yourself captivated by the striking depth of his eyes, their beauty a stark contrast to the harshness of the world surrounding you.

After Ada finishes tending to your injuries, the group gathers to discuss whether they should take you with them. They huddle together, their expressions a mix of hesitation and uncertainty, each one silently weighing the implications of adding another member to their already burdened group. Ada, recognizing the value of having another doctor among them, seems to have no qualms about bringing you along, her practicality overriding any reservations.

Luchino, while acknowledging the usefulness of your medical expertise, remains uncertain, his guarded nature leaving room for doubt. Fredrick and Xiao Loa, on the other hand, make no effort to conceal their displeasure at the idea of adding another member to their ranks. To them, your presence represents an additional burden, a potential obstacle that could slow them down and complicate their already precarious existence.

Despite the reservations, the group eventually reaches a consensus, recognizing the practical advantages of having a doctor in their midst. Luchino takes charge, lifting you up as he hurriedly guides you to a waiting black truck, the others falling into step behind you. Once at the vehicle, Luchino gently places you in the back seat, where you notice a scruffy-looking young man whose tense demeanor and averted gaze hint at his unease with your arrival.

You would occasionally shift feeling slightly intimidated by some stars here and there but it’s better than slowly rotting and dying of starvation under a pile of rock and rubble.

As the journey begins, you find yourself surrounded by a group of individuals whose guarded nature and complex dynamics mirror the harsh realities of the world they inhabit. The subtle undercurrents of tension and uncertainty within the group offer a glimpse into the intricate web of relationships and conflicts that define their shared journey, hinting at the potential for both camaraderie and discord in this unforgiving post-apocalyptic landscape.

#identity v #idv #identity v frederick #identity v ada #identity v emil #identity v luchino #identity v xiao loa #composer #composer x reader #fredrick kreiburg x reader #professor #professor x reader #luchino x reader #emil x reader #emil x reader x ada #ada x reader #psychologist #patient #xiao loa x reader #xiao #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x fem reader

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Chapter 3: Meant to Be 18 + Ketta Kisaki x Fem Reader WC:1700+ Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 TW: Alcohol use, vaginal penetration, make up sex, oral sex, making out, creampie, hickies, pretty names, suggestive language, pregnancy, A/N: Sudden reality is kicking and now is Kisaki regretting the choices he made? Will he truly pursue a woman who is not interested in him or be with the one he knows he is meant to be with? (unedited)

Kisaki couldn’t get the image of your hurting expression off his mind. The moment he got into his home, he realized how lonely it was. Going to his liquor cabinet he poured himself a drink, his elbow resting on the counter. He ran his fingers through his neatly done hair. Different images flash in his mind from the moment he met you, to the first time you both had sex, and the first kiss you both share. “Fuck.” He said out loud. He couldn’t understand how one person could change everything he worked so hard for.  Now you were gone and he could proceed with his plan. 

It didn’t feel right…clenching onto his drink he became angry. He didn’t want to let you go. “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT TO HER!.”  He shouted taking hold of his cup and throwing it against the wall, shattering it into little pieces  “SHE DIDN'T DESERVE THIS ANY OF THIS!!!” 

He couldn’t contain his temper, tossing things against the walls. The next thing he was going to throw he stopped, he felt the familiar fabric in his hands. It was the charm you gave him many months back. He remembered the way you looked at him, it was clicking to him “She knew at that moment.”  It brought back that night when he kissed you. The images flashing in his mind at that moment, he never experienced with you. The phrase came to him ‘Important encounters are planned by souls before the bodies see each other’. This could be what your future looks like. 

He picked up his phone as he needed to fix this. Calling your number the call failed. You may need a few days to cool off.  He gave you a few days, driving to the shop he noticed the lights were off. Driving to your home he knocked on the door with no answer. 

“If your looking for_______ she isn’t home.” The older lady spoke. 

“ did she say when she will be back?” He asked her. 

“No, but the poor dear,  I think she needed to get away for a while. I’m just collecting her mail until she turns.” She said.  Kisaki knew he would have to wait for some time until he knew you were ready to speak.  

 and you couldn’t handle the chaos that is going to unleash. You didn’t want to see it or hear about it. You avoided touching your cards, you just need a break from it all. Blocking numbers or anything associated with Kisaki you just wanted to forget. 

Months had passed since the last time you spoke with Kisaki. Winter had approached and it was getting colder at night. You wouldn’t stay long like you did in the summertime. The snow was already coming down your coat keeping your body warm and the scarf that wrapped around your neck. The chill air hitting your face, you locked the shop up and proceeded to walk to your car that was down the block. 

“Oi _____.”  a voice catching your attention. The voice wasn’t familiar to you. You turned around to see a tall slender man in a black winter coat. The round rim glasses his hair with highlights man looked down at you. By the way, he is dressed, it was obvious who he was associated with. 

“Yes?” you asked as you faced him. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a note “I was instructed to give you this and you need to be there in 1 hour.” he handed you the letter.

“And if I don't?” you asked him as you opened the letter seeing the address and a key card. He smirked “You know you will show up.” placing his hand in his pockets he walked passed you. 

Sitting in your car, your hand holding the key card. You felt like you couldn’t face him after those last words you spoke to him. Trying to calm your anxiety down. You got out of your car and entered the hotel. The room was at the top of the floor, walking down the long hallway you saw the number on the key card. The green light flashed as you entered the room. The lights were on already, and the place was twice the size of your apartment, maybe even bigger. You saw the large-displayed window... His back facing you, the blond you hadn’t seen in months. 

“You showed.” he turned around. 

“Yeah…” it was hard to make eye contact with him. You began to fiddle with the sleeve of your coat. 

“What made you decide to come?” His hands were in his pocket as he walked towards you. “I’m still trying to figure it out… but since you wanted me to come here, is there a reason why?” you asked your eyes meeting with him for a brief moment. 

“The reason… Last time we saw one another… There were some things that I wish I didn’t say.” He said taking off his glasses and placing them in his pocket. “Some of the things you have said made me think for some time.”  Your eyes managed to look at him. “The preparations I have done over the years seem to freeze the moment I meet you. It pissed me off that you didn’t fear me or even take me seriously at times. But you were right. I did feel what you felt. It may sound crazy but I saw some things, that could be…”  “I have to..  They popped out randomly even after we stopped talking. It was hard to forget you. I-I didn’t want to forget you… The reason you didn’t want to kiss me was because you didn’t want to get attached?”  asked him.

“ I believe if you really cared for someone that's when your lips should only be for that person. At that time I was caught up in the moment and gave into the temptation and that's when I saw everything. Every single part of it.” feeling his hand placed against his cheek. The moment of fear struck him in that moment seeing the scenes of the future. “I don’t want to lose that opportunity of someone loving me just like the…  This encounter was meant to be ______.”  Kisaki leaned his forehead against yours “If you give me this chance I will make sure to never let you down.” he spoke in a  low tone. “ I will protect you and make sure you have everything you desire.” 

“All I want is you, Kisaki. Promise me you will never leave.?” asking him. 

“I promise.” He meant his promise to you, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your hands draped around his neck. Closing the gap,  he craved your lips, his hand still cradling your face. 

The trail of clothes lead to the bedroom. Your legs were spread apart, Kisaki buried his face between your thighs, his tongue sliding between your folds. Your eyes watched him as he made direct eye contact with you, he began to lightly suck on your clit. “Mmm~~~”  you mumble a moan. 

“My pretty girl.” you heard him from between your thighs. His cock throbbed as he continued to stroke himself. Raising his body he was aching to place his cock inside of you. His body pressed against yours, his cock sliding in so easily into your wet cunt. His fingers intertwined with yours,  his lips making contact with yours.  The moans begin to muffle against one another lips as he thrust slowly at first before steading his pace. “Fuck I missed you  _______,” he spoke between the kisses.

“I missed you too.” lightly panting. 

His kiss trailed down your cheeks to your neck, the crook of your neck was his favorite spot applying a pick of pressure he began to suck. He continuously left different marks on your neck.  He ended up raising your body as he was still inside of you. Holding your body close to his he was enjoying the intimate positions he wanted your face close to his. Both of you began to grind against one another.  His dick was hitting that sweet spot over and over he was pulsating inside your throbbing cunt. He noticed your hips moving more rapidly. He knew your clit was becoming a bit more stimulated as the friction of both of you moved at the same time. You were chasing that high “My pretty girl wants to cum~~” he purred in your ear. “Cum for me, pretty girl.” 

You couldn’t help but follow those orders. Your hips locked up as his hands pressed your hips down steadily against his cock you heard the long moan coming from him and the warmth of his seed spilling into your pussy. Kissing his lips gently “ I will be yours Tetta Kisaki.” 

The multiple rounds left you both exhausted. The last thing you both saw before closing your eyes was one another. . You both didn’t know how long you slept. Opening your eyes slowly, your felt arms wrapped around you, you were facing a sleeping Kisaki. You couldn’t help but smile, nuzzle a bit closer to him feeling his arms hold you closer. This was just the beginning for you both. 

Love is just another word until someone comes into your life and gives it a meaning.

Epilogue

Kisakis was usually the first to wake up. He saw you were still asleep. The pretty diamond ring on your finger for the past 3 years. His hands were resting on your hip then slowly traveling to your stomach that was swollen. He felt the small fluttering kicks coming from your stomach. Since being with him he felt a bit more at ease knowing when coming home he would see you. Now expecting his first child he was very overprotective and didn’t want you alone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead “It's time to wake up.”

Letting out a yawn “It's the weekend, can we just stay in bed for a bit longer?”

“Not today. We are going to be going somewhere today, we need to get ready.” Kisaki sat up in bed. “Where are we going?” asked your husband as he helped you sit up in the bed. Your hand resting on your swollen stomach. 

“I’m taking you on a small getaway before the baby is coming, just the two of us.” Kisaki spoke leaning in and giving you a small peck. He had another reason to take you on the small vacation, when you both left he was going to have the nursery done in that time frame, and he went on based on your idea concept. Recreating a life like Wisteria flowers on the walls. It would be a surprise. 

Tagging : @reiners-milkbiddies

#kisaki tokyo revengers #kisaki smut #tokyo manji gang #kisaki tetta #kisaki x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #the witch of one piece #vals writing

[yuzusern]

I’m normal.

Proceeds to scream about Sae and his fucking face Rin remembers

Damn IT SAE. Did you even sleep in the plane or even the days before your flight? Are you high?

I wrote a fic rant ahaha why my brain switched to brainrot.

He goes to his room and destroys everything that reminds him of the shattered dream. And the crack in the glass of a frame showing their win. Was it worth it?

Itoshi Sae and Rin are dumb but the fact that they can’t communicate with each other is on a different fucking level.

Considering Sae most likely saw Rin first and not home (still had his suitcase), makes me believe he needed to rid of himself the only tethering line that stood in his way of freedom. Maybe a chance for the forward position again. Or so he thought. But it only made it worse.

Rin took it hard. His own brother left him to pick up the pieces of a dream. All for him. All for their bond.

Imagine even after that shitshow in the playing field, Sae and Rin walking home with a slight distance. It would look normal to anyone else but to them, it was an impenetrable field that neither would dare cross.

Their parents are none the wiser and celebrates Sae’s return with dinner, the brothers sit next to each other in silence. Sae only responds to answer his parent’s questions about how he’s doing, what Spain is like, etc.

Rin sits in silence, the only sound is from his chewing.

‘Act normal.’

Sae asks for a different room to sleep in. He needs more space, the bed they’ve slept in together is now too small for two teens.

Rin refuses to show off his emotions.

‘Act normal.’

He’s seething. Rin wanted to rip his brother apart.

15 years and for what?

Rin excuses himself for a bath. In reality, he sat in the tub so long his mother knocked asking if he was alright. He wants to scream.

‘Act normal.’

Sae didn’t come in to check on his brother. Sae just listened as his back was against the wall that separated their rooms.

The sound of crashing, breaking, destroying everything they worked for together. Rin wants to destroy the past. Destroy the thing that will forever haunt him.

‘Rin…’ Sae swallowed his own saliva. He worried. He worried Rin might hurt himself.

Sae felt heavy as reality of what he done might not mend his connection to Rin for the rest of his life. It was hard to breathe. He could feel an imaginary shackle tight around his neck. Almost feeling asphyxiation. His sin branding into his mind. The guilt hanging heavy.

But he can’t go. He severed his line with Rin.

He sniffled. Sae covered his face with his hand, feeling a hot wetness his past self threw out as his decision to be a midfielder was cemented.

But he couldn’t get up and out to apologize. His own pride won’t allow it. He needed Rin to move on. He needed to ground himself from Rin.

Rin’s too dependent for his brother and that hurt Sae more than he could imagine.

“I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

#blue lock #itoshi rin #bluelock #itoshi sae #angst #I’m good at that #episode nagi #night snow

[arashrita]

Hey ehehe 👉👈 if you were the write a short snippet about this post how would u proceed with it? Im very curious 👀👀

A/N: Rin, you asked for this. Didn't want to break the 'Mal' cycle. So, I named his son Malthus. Now, let's take a look at this!

Thorns & Roses

[TEASER]

Twisted affections, delusion? Blind Trust?Or, was it the karma of ignoring the warnings of time?

All is well...

until...

Suddenly, the world is in the face of a disaster. The cruel claws of reality threaten to take away your loved ones. Your property, your life — everything.

Suddenly, ignorance isn't bliss anymore...

"Fantasy seems like heaven until you realize that at least reality won't scam you with fake promises."

Malleus thinks he gave you everything. Things he never had. Your own family, love, care, loyalty. What else you can ask for? You are perfectly happy here, no? You will never find out, you may never...

Yet...

A bird locked up in a cage is still a caged bird and it will take flight once set free.

You weren't supposed to be suspicious of him. You weren't supposed to meet HIM. Silver?! How did that happen? He was fully in control!

You start to question everything.

He threatens to take your baby boy away from you.

You disobey the orders.

He snatches your sweet kid from your lap and locks you up in your own room.

"Trust is a fickle thing..."

Does that breaks your heart? Yes. Does that make you furious? Yes. Does that make you loathe him? Absolutely Yes.

He should know that a shattered glass is still glass. One wrong move and you will bleed to death. He shouldn't have tampered with something that would leave him broken and bleeding, exposed to the freezing cold.

You beg Sebek to let him see your son. The poor child, who kept asking for his mother. Yet everytime...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Sebek repeats every single time.

Days pass, Weeks pass, Months pass. But, Malleus's frozen heart doesn't melt from the pleas of a broken mother. Sebek doesn't let you see him either.

That's when you make up your mind. Suddenly, everything becomes crystal clear. What you thought of as gold was nothing but plastic. They should know...

"An wounded mother is the most dangerous person in the whole world."

Your love is long gone. Every thought of forgiveness withered like dried rose petals, only leaving a ghost of the past behind. Somewhere in the other world your son (?) Malthus stands before your younger self, sword in hand, hatred in his eyes.

"The right choice isn't always the good choice."

" If killing him is the last thing I will ever do, then so be it. Mother, I promise to save you and the world. I promise."

"Once you step in, there's no going out darling."

#disney twst #twst imagines #twst disney #twst random #twst shitpost #twst x reader #twst x mc #twst x you #twst x y/n #twst #twst angst #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst malleus x reader #malleus x female reader #twst prefect #twst mc #twst fanfic #twst diasomnia #post overblot

[astragreenwoode]

♡Treasure (Adventure Time Petrigrof AU)♡ PT 4/?

(A/N: Part 4. We're getting into heavy angst territory, so be prepared. Sorry to put you guys through heartbreak.

If you are sensitive to themes such as child loss/miscarriage, suicidal ideation, extreme grief, and hospitals, either proceed with caution or feel free to avoid this part altogether. Remember to look out for yourselves.)

♡ My AU where pretty much everything is the same as in canon except Betty is unknowingly pregnant with her and Simon's daughter when she jumps through the portal.

Italics - A/N

Slashed Text - NSFW

Bold Text - Sensitive Topics

A Bump in the Road

♡ When they got to the Emergency Room, the nurses immediately wheeled Betty to an examination room once they saw the trail of blood behind her and Simon. But they needed him to stay behind. They needed help from the hospital security to practically pry them away from each other so they could treat her.

♡ After an hour of waiting when Betty was finally stabilized, Dr. Olson, came out to give Simon the bad news; Betty experienced a late miscarriage. But during their treatment, they had to strap her down to the bed and give her a sedative so she wouldn’t worsen her injuries.

♡ Betty’s situation was time-sensitive. She was in danger of getting an infection, so after updating Simon, Dr. Olson performed a surgical evacuation immediately.

♡ "Princess, we can have another baby. But I can't have another you."

♡ Given Betty’s medical history, a recorded suicide attempt when she was 13 years old, and how she was so distressed that they had to sedate and restrain her, Dr. Olson put her on Suicide Watch, just to be on the safe side.

♡ Up until this point, Simon didn’t know her struggles with her mental health were this severe.

♡ In the meantime, he called Betty’s mother and told her what was happening. She was at the hospital within five minutes.

♡ Alice Grof had trouble warming up to Simon from the beginning. She never liked how he stopped Betty from going on that trip to the Outback. But her daughter was happy, and that’s what mattered the most. And while their relationship wasn’t the warmest, they respected each other. She comforted Simon whilst Betty was still in surgery.

♡ Betty recovers in the hospital for five more days, drained both physically and emotionally. When she first wakes up following the procedure, she’s unresponsive, almost catatonic, and withdrawn from reality to process all the trauma of the whole situation. Simon and Alice make sure she’s never by herself during those five days.

♡ Alice stays with her daughter one day so that Simon can go to their apartment and bring some of Betty’s stuff to the hospital to help her not be as anxious during her stay.

♡ The day before they were ready to go back home, Alice offered to tidy the place up so Betty could recover in a clutter and stress-free environment. She cleaned the blood off their sheets and carpet, made everything neat, stocked their fridge and pantries with food, and made sure their bathroom had the necessary medical supplies to help the healing process. She also hid all items related to their lost baby in a trunk in their hall closet, out of sight, and waiting for whenever Simon and Betty were ready to try again.

♡ When they came back home, they took three weeks off of work so they could mourn their loss together.

♡ Betty returns to taking all her regular antidepressants and antipsychotics. They stabilize her mood and help keep her focused and ‘normal’ when she returns to work, but she’s still numb and withdrawn for a while.

♡ She visits with her mom more frequently, going over to her and her partner Suzanne’s house once a week. The visits help her in her grief.

♡ When Betty started getting her period again, her heart shattered all over again. Simon asked her mother to come over for a few days. 

♡ Proceeding with caution, Simon asks her about what he discovered in the hospital. He wants to understand her past struggles with her mental health; the suicidal ideation in her childhood, the self-harm tendencies, the OCD, the ADHD, the bipolar disorder she inherited from her mother, her past of pain, all of it. He wants to know so he can fully understand how to help her if she spirals again in the future. 

♡ It’s hard for her to open up about that.

♡ Betty avoids intimate and vulnerable situations with Simon for a while. He doesn’t mind at all and is willing to wait as long as she needs. The farthest she’s willing to go is cuddling with him in her underwear. Two months after coming back from the hospital, they graduate to taking showers together again.

♡ At night, Betty still holds Simon’s hand to her stomach as they sleep in bed.

♡ She can still feel their baby kicking from time to time, like experiencing phantom pain after losing a limb.

♡ In an effort to help Betty heal and get back to her old self, Simon surprises her by taking her on a two-week vacation to Ireland; Betty’s dream trip.

♡ A week into the trip, they retire to their suite early after having dinner at the hotel restaurant along with a bottle of wine. And for the first time since their loss, Betty lets Simon all the way in. That night, they unknowingly conceive their future daughter.

♡ The day before they fly back home to Seattle, Simon proposes. Betty says ‘yes.’ And after three months of sitting with their heartbreak, they feel hopeful for what the future might bring them again.

♡ Two months into their engagement, Simon embarks on a solo journey to follow up on a lead for an especially rare artifact.

♡ We all know what happens from here; what was meant as an innocent and playful gesture sparked earth-shattering consequences.

♡ Betty is absolutely petrified by her fiancee’s abrupt personality switch once he puts on the mysterious crown. That wasn't her Simon. So, when a portal to the future opens showing her the fiancee she knew and loved, she doesn’t think twice before she impulsively jumps through a thousand years and into the land of Ooo.

♡ She's blissfully unaware that she didn't jump through that portal alone.

Reblog, follow me, and come back for Part 5!

#adventure time #betty grof #simon petrikov #my writing #astra greenwoode #adventure time au #AT AU #my aus #petrigrof #Truest Treasure AU #2024

[ufonaut]

"a disaster beyond description" - the parallax view on parallax (& coast city's destruction)

i've often talked about the importance of pre-parallax retcon hal jordan, what a radical move his downfall had been for an art medium so uniquely focused on status quo and how much walking that back in post-2005 continuity damaged the character & his development. however, something i've become increasingly interested in lately is the outsider point of view on the magnitude of coast city's destruction and hal's descent into madness -- the reverberations of one of the darkest days in the dcu were far and wide for a good long while there but rarely acknowledged outside of nostalgia pieces nowadays and even more rarely understood as a thoroughly visceral, well-written, well-planned arc that intentionally portrayed the superhero world as largely unsympathetic to the trauma of one of their own but the average civilian as grappling with that loss nearly on the same scale that hal did.

to that effect, i thought i would show a highlights reel of this outsider POV and how much it adds to the weight of the pre-2005 story. while i've accepted some tie-ins to major events (ie zero hour 1994, final night 1996), this will feature titles entirely unrelated to green lantern presented in real life chronological order by publication date in order to showcase the impact that's compelled me so (that's no convergence: green lantern, no legends of the dcu #33-36, etc).

"every office, every home, every school and hospital is atomized. the west coast and its entire ecosystem is instantaneously shattered-- and more than seven million men, women and children that once called the coast city area home-- die."

to set the scene, the explosion that destroys coast city actually appears in superman 1987 #80 (cover date: aug 1993) as part of hank henshaw and mongul's plan.

the destruction had spread as far as santa barbara & the los padres national forest. getting closer to ground zero, hank henshaw also proceeds to resolutely take care of a handful of the sole survivors:

(adventures of superman 1987 #503, cover date: aug 1993)

you all know the reading order here. past the return of superman and the events of emerald twilight, the first outsiders to have gotten the news are the darkstars

whose immediate course of action is to brand hal jordan a criminal (darkstars #23, cover date: aug 1994)

and as zero hour-induced temporal anomalies keep coming up, the darkstars start seriously considering further tampering with time in order to prevent "the creation of a power-mad monster" (darkstars #24, cover date: sept 1994).

it's a sentiment that the majority of hal's justice league colleagues share, as zero hour: crisis in time and the final night both tell us, but a more sympathetic view comes two years later in the spectre 1992 #47 (cover date: nov 1996)

and a more neutral one from waverider in superman: the doomsday wars #2 (cover date: dec 1998)

interestingly enough, more details of the in-universe perception of hal's actions comes from deadman: dead again

where we learn that "sources close to the JLA" have actually issued a press statement naming hal as wholly responsible for the green lantern corps massacre, with no hint that they've been equally forthcoming about the motive behind his actions (deadman: dead again #4, cover date: oct 2001)

the last pre-retcon word goes to superman: day of doom #3 (cover date: jan 2003), a sobering portrayal of the immense horror of coast city's annihilation and subsequently a look into the reality that had made hal snap:

post-retcon, nostalgia pieces like dcu: legacies #8 (feb 2011) and dc retroactive: superman - the 80s (oct 2011) both treat the mad-with-grief version of the story as the truth -- as does the 2015 convergence event --but outside of these few instances, the tour de force of storytelling that is this years-long arc has been cast aside in favor of an unnecessary retcon. as the zero hour: crisis in time 30th anniversary approaches, i'd say it's just the right time to remember that hal (unrepentant hal, power-hungry hal, hell-bent on making everything right hal) had had a perfectly proportional reaction to the tragedy he'd endured, if not outright a justified one.

#hal jordan #green lantern #parallax #coast city #green lantern corps #zero hour #zero hour 1994 #zero hour: crisis in time #hank henshaw #superman #cyborg superman #deadman #boston brand #donna troy #darkstars #the spectre #jim corrigan #dan jurgens #(to whom we owe 90% of this beauty) #meta #dc #dc comics #u can reblog

[maddyguru]

The Aftermath (geto s.)

Synopsis: the night Suguru turned his back against the society is an unforgettable night. As everyone mourned the loss of one of the strongest sorcerers, Yaga came to deliver a distasteful news aside from his student's betrayal; Suguru Geto is not just a mass murderer but has also become a rapist.

WARNING! this fic contains non con, incest, dark content, murder, aged up suguru and of course the reader is 18+, ptsd topics, angst, and fluff. More to add if there is. Proceed with your own caution and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Taglist: @artificialsmartass @sunflwrsugar @formulaaoflove @lazypinkpig @bloobewy @thebritishtwerkteam-blog @cascading-escapist @mizukilia @sinmp @ayame236 @itzmeme @sydneyyyya @ky0mybeloved

There will be future chapters, so if you want to be tagged for the next ones, please do lmk as well! I will try to update as frequent as I can aside from having a busy life.

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It was warm. Before you know it, the burning feeling of the sun washes your skin. And what’s even more ridiculous is the sound of something moving here and there.  

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked. Once. Twice. Your eyes moved around, trying to recognize your surroundings. Deep down, you prayed that everything that happened was a lie- a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare- just a bad dream.  

Your ears registered the sound- a voice. No, it was multiple voices mixing, tangled with arguments and discussions, drowning in each other’s different opinions and how things should be handled; What are they arguing about? You wondered. Why are they arguing in front of you? 

Please, let you sleep in peace.  

You don’t wanna hear it.  

“…she’s awake…”  

Yeah, thanks to you. Thanks to you, I’m awake when I could’ve stayed sleeping.  

You could feel their hands on you. You try to fight and try to move away but your legs give out. There’s no way to run; you’re glued to the hard floor and your legs are jelly. Instead of fighting, you let them land their hands on you, around you, and carry you in their arms. Your head was pressed against someone’s chest.  

You try to control it. To be aloof as much as you can. But it didn’t work. 

When your eyes landed on the floor that you were lying on, a single tear fell from your eyes.  

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. 

. 

“I heard you. I said what?”  

Yaga palmed his face. A look of disappointment, a face of despair was painted on both him and his student.  

He didn’t understand what was going on. The whole situation is a mess. He tried to comprehend this situation and tried to remain calm, collecting his mind from the shattering pieces. But when Yaga remembered the young girl he found at that house, the more he was slapped with the reality- the fact that his favorite student caused the damage. It was the truth that he refused to face.  

But it was so, oh, true.  

“I don’t know why this is happening. I, this is all so-“  

“Sensei, I said what?”  

“Satoru, I don’t get why this is happening either… why did he…?”  

“That boy, he did something even worse than this.”  

A sarcastic laugh erupted in the corridor, and Yaga looked at the boy in front of him. Confused. Is this a laughing matter? Or is Satoru too sarcastic? He hoped the latter.  

“I don’t know how you can laugh.”  

“it’s just fucking ridiculous he wouldn’t do such a thing!”  

Now that he’s shouting, Yaga knows this is bad. Tense. His pupil couldn’t grasp the fact that his best friend could turn their backs on their community. Perhaps, Satoru couldn’t accept that Suguru had turned his back on him. Either way, his heart aches.  

This is out of his fucking expectations.  

He swallowed saliva, rubbing his temples from the headache. “I know you’re confused but please stop and listen to me.”  

“Suguru is now a criminal. He killed his parents, Satoru. And not only that,” pausing, Yaga looked into the six-eye user’s blue iris.  

There’s a deep pause. Until he spoke.  

and his words made the 18-year-old boy gasp, he took a step back from Yaga and shook his head, in denial.  

Satoru. He did what he did. And there’s no denying that.  

It’s heartbreaking for me, too as his teacher. But for now, we have to be there for the girl.  

She needs us.

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Utahime couldn’t disentangle how the girl in front of her must’ve felt.

Her eyes wandered, lingering on the young woman’s face. The corner of her bottom left lip was busted, and dried blood still surfaced on her cuts, even after Shoko had sodden the wound earlier in the day. Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving up and down as a sign that she was slowly breathing. Approximately four hours after they arrived, she was rushed to the Jujutsu School's infirmary room for treatment. Shoko has gotten better in her medical studies (well, she’s the only one who pursued Jujutsu’s medical field), so she’s the one whom Yaga seeks to tend to Geto’s younger sister. Her soft snores were a clear sign that she was resting her body after God knows what happened. Utahime could only have imagined that.  

“You’re a monster. A monster!” A strangled, angry cry ripples from her lips. It’s not fair! This is a betrayal, an abuse of a human towards another human being. A protector to a civilian, a brother to a sister. He was a brother before he became a sorcerer. Then why?

What did she do that was so terrible that it drove Suguru to torture her? Among those other people?    

The wall outside of the school hallway became her punching bag. If it were not for Nanami, she would have broken her fist, and Shoko would have someone else to cater to. The situation they are handling right now is already firm. They don’t need Y/n’s best friend to throw a rampage. The principal told her and Mei to aid the Tokyo district, not add more burden. But she couldn’t fight it- there was no way she could just take the news with a poker face.    

She strode closer toward her best friend, her bandaged fist beside her torsos. Staring at the young woman, the student swore she would fight for her rights and her dignity. She stared at her, and Utahime promised herself that she would do everything in her artistry to fight for her friend whom she’d loved for 4 years already.    

“I’m gonna kill you,” Utahime muttered, enough for only herself to hear.   

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The smell was awful. The copper scent, the same, as blood filled the room. The lines she took starting from the main door and further towards the living room were calculated, her eyes darting side to side. Her body is in a tense mode as she prepares herself for the worst.   

There is something wrong with her parents’ house.   

Thank God her house’s slipper doesn’t produce any sound. She’s grateful enough for that because whatever is out there has terrorized this home. 

She understood that it was past midnight. Being middle-aged couples, her parents wouldn’t stay up late, as contrasted to working adults and millennials. So, when she walked into this house from her late-night stay back at Utahime’s house and was greeted with droplets of blood on the carpet, she became psychotic.  

She was so caught up, and she knew she should call the police, the emergency hotline, or even Sugu-nii. Whoever it was, she knows she should’ve acted quickly and smartly. She was mocking herself as she slid her hands into the ripped mom jeans she was wearing, looking for her smartphone.   

Low battery. Shutting in 3, 2, 1. 

“Fuck!” she hissed, fingers tapping the blackout screen out of frustration. Frantically looking right and left of this dark room, she let out a few curses. Should’ve charged her phone when she was in the library!  

As she wandered around unconsciously, moving from one space to another and tapping her smartphone, she was startled when she bumped into hard flesh. A body. A warm, existing body.   

It was nii-san. Suguru.   

His tall and broad frame had the young girl looking up to see his face, no smile plastered contrasted to the many times he greeted her in the past. Suguru’s cheeks were painted with crimson liquid. Her brain went haywire; she refused to acknowledge that it was that familiar copper scent from earlier since her arrival. Blood. It was blood. But whose?   

Where are her parents? And shouldn't Suguru be in his boarding school?  

“Nii-san?”   

A hand clasped around her lips in an instant, and her other hand was behind her back as Suguru held her hostage. She tried screaming, only now realizing that he was the predator.  

“I'm gonna kill you." 

The words sank into her mind and down to her stomach.  

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Utahime’s attention was fully on her friend, the moment she started mumbling in her sleep. Brows furrowed, shaking her head in denial, Utahime knows this girl is having a nightmare.

“No, don’t...”   

“Y/n...” she tried waking her friend, but it was an exercise of futility. She kept on begging someone to let her go.   

“Y/n...”  

“No! Don't!”   

“Y/n! Hey, y/n, it’s me, Utahime!”  

It was a struggle to wake her up until she finally did and here Utahime is holding the crying girl. And now Shoko, Nanami, Yaga, and Mei are in the room upon Y/n’s scream.  

“Utahime... help me! Help me, Utahime, I’m scared!”   

She stared the woman into her eyes.   

With an almost hushed tone, she repeated those words.   

“I’m scared. I'm scared, Utahime. I’m scared.”  

Later, the pleas turned into a sobbing mess as she pressed her face into her friend’s chest, wetting her kimono.   

“I’m scared, Utahime, I'm scared. I don’t wanna live anymore, please...”  

“I hate him, Utahime, I hate him!”  

Her hands were soothing the girl’s back, trying to lull her to calm down as she repeated what she said again and again, Utahime was aware of the stares, and concern was written all over their face. But she’s the closest to the young girl, hence she’s the only one who can handle this outburst and is allowed to touch her.  

“I hate him... I, I hate... nii-san...”  

“It hurts, Utahime. It hurts...”   

She looked at the rest of them, their gaze speaking without verbal communication. “I know. I know, y/n. You’re safe now.”   

But is she? After what Suguru did to her?   

“I hate him...” For the last time, Utahime heard you mumbled, eyes still closing as if you were trying to forget what he did to you, erasing the ugly memory from your head. And as a woman, Utahime understood. She turned to Shoko with a stare that only both of them knew.  

The steps that Shoko took were slow, careful not to startle Suguru’s sister. The girl is still weeping against her best friend, her small arms wrapped tightly around Utahime’s limbs. She was hiccupping, sobs wrecking her frail body to convey her hurt- her pain.  

Laying a supportive hand on your shoulder, Shoko made sure that her gesture was gentle, careful not to make you scream. As far as she was studying jujutsu and medicine, she knew better how to navigate this hazard; sure, she never dealt with this crisis and this was her first time, but those cheat sheets didn’t go to waste.  

“It’s ok, y/n.”  

Moments later you were put to sleep. At desperate times like this, there’s no other choice but to put you into a temporary sleep, so Shoko can handle this situation better. It wasn’t easy, convincing you to relax but eventually you calmed down with the help of your best friend. She was the only one who could replace your guardian. Guardian... 

And now here they are, face to face with each other, with Nanami beside them.  

Lying to Utahime would be a crime, Shoko knows that. And the curious gaze from Nanami wouldn’t miraculously make the situation less stressful.  

That look in Utahime’s eyes tells Shoko everything that she needs to know. They want to know. They wanna hear it from her lips, as a doctor who examined Suguru’s little sister. It wasn’t enough, coming from Yaga. It had to be her.  

No point in beating around the bush.  

“Y/n was assaulted. Suguru raped her at the crime scene.”  

#tw.dark content #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #tw.noncon #geto suguru #angst #jjk fanfic #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #tw.incest #tw.ptsd #tw noncon #tw.blood

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 15 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

A/N - this fic deals with some very dark themes such as drug use, self-harm and suicidal ideation. Please proceed with caution and Minors DNI. There is a reader insert but it is very Spencer-centric

Chapter Summary - Spencer finally comes to understand the truth about you and his fractured memories before facing off with Cat Adams for the final time.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - false memories, past drug use, swearing, Cat Adams, brief mention of Tobias Hankel.

WC - 5.4K

Chapter 15 - How to Save a Life

The Mandela Effect. 

Coined online by a woman who detailed her recollection of Nelson Mandela dying in prison in the nineteen eighties. She remembered distinctive news coverage on his death and found others who had shared memories of the event. 

However, Nelson Mandela did not die in prison. He spent twenty seven years inside before being released, went on to become the President of South Africa for five years and passed away in twenty thirteen. 

The Mandela Effect is described as a clear memory of an event that never happened in this reality. It occurs when people believe that their distorted memories are accurate recollections. 

Other examples of it include The Berenstein Bears versus The Berenstain Bears and whether Curious George had a tail or not. 

There is evidence that our memories aren’t entirely accurate and can alter over time. People tend to over-believe their memories as a form of ego protection or cognitive dissonance. Some people would rather choose to believe their false memory is evidence of a parallel universe than admit they are wrong. 

It isn’t based on a lie or deception. Instead it occurs when a person or group of people have clear but false memories. The creation of such dissociative realities can be a crutch for people who have suffered extreme trauma. 

Like being imprisoned for a crime they didn’t commit. 

Spencer stared straight ahead at the wall in the interrogation room, straight over her raven head. He couldn’t even bear to make eye contact with her for fear of what he might see. 

He hadn’t spoken a word after he told Luke he wanted the truth about you. After that he’d shut down completely. 

Emily came at Luke’s insistence and found Spencer practically catatonic, staring at the same wall he stared at now, refusing to speak. 

“What’s going on Luke? Did Cat do something?” Emily glared at her colleague, keeping her voice low. “He shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want him to know.”

“I don’t think this is about Cat.” Luke whispered back. 

“What’s this about then?” She folded her arms, giving Luke a stern look. 

He pulled a face before leaning in close to her ear.

“He said wanted the truth about Y/N.” 

Spencer had heard everything they were saying but couldn’t bring himself to speak. Instead he twirled the theory of the Mandela Effect around and around in his fractured brain, trying to make sense of this. 

False memories. The belief in being able to recollect events that never happened. 

Or in his case, an entire series of events. 

It wasn’t until he'd stood thinking of the last time he’d seen Cat that it all became clear. He’d shattered the perfectly crafted illusion in his head. He hadn’t been thinking of you when he said those things to Cat over two years ago. He hadn’t been thinking about you because you didn’t exist to him then.

Two years ago was when Spencer thought you’d broken up with him, walked away from your relationship. And it wasn’t a coincidence that two years was almost the exact amount of time he’d started using again. 

His drug-addled brain had created false memories, manufactured an entire relationship that had never existed. And he’d broken the disassociation when he’d thought back to a time when you hadn’t existed in his life and tried to place you there. 

Obviously he’d met you somewhere during his drug binge. He hadn’t completely made you up, clearly you did actually exist. But you’d never been together. Not the way he thought you had. 

He’d dreamt of you countless times before he saw your face at PIW. He knew how dreams worked. He knew the brain didn’t have the capacity to create new faces. The fact that he dreamt of you meant he’d seen you before. The neocortex works to interpret images, sounds and sensations experienced during the waking day and build a coherent narrative with them. 

So he’d definitely seen you before. But it seemed as though his brain had just constructed its own story. One where you were an FBI Agent. One where you’d been his girlfriend and the two of you had fallen in love. 

But that’s all it was, a carefully conceived tale. 

He most likely met you the night Tara saw him making out with a woman wearing your bracelet. He’d spent a night with you nearly two years ago and your face and your name had stuck in his crazed mind. And he’d concocted a life for the two of you. 

Maybe it had been his brain's way of combating loneliness. Or maybe he was just completely fucking insane. In a way it all made perfect sense.

The team's reluctance to talk about you. The lack of pictures of you in his room. 

He’d even tried to tell himself, through you, in his dreams. 

“You know deep down that if this was real, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Emily must have called you.” 

“We both know that she didn’t Spencer. Think about it. Really think about it.” 

“Think about what?” 

“You still don’t get it do you?” 

“Get what? I don’t understand. Y/N please tell me what’s going on.” 

“You have to figure it out for yourself. I’m only a figment of your drug-addled brain.” 

“Please Y/N, tell me what’s going on. I’m so confused.” 

“You’ll figure it out. You’re a genius after all.” 

“Please Y/N, don’t go! I miss you! Please don’t leave me again!” 

“Close your eyes and rest. It will make more sense in the morning.” 

How did he not realise sooner? 

He felt Emily’s hand on top of his and it felt like it was burning him. His flesh felt as though it was seering off beneath her touch and he wanted her to stop. 

“Spence? Can you say something? Or at the very least, can you look at me?” She spoke softly. 

Spencer wanted to scream at her. He wanted to scream at her and Luke and the rest of his old team. He wanted to scream at Maggie and Nick and Cedric and Doctor Sanderson. He wanted to scream at Cat for having him arrested and causing him to relapse which had led him here in the first place. 

You were the only good memory he’d had and now it was destroyed. None of it was real. Everything he’d been clinging to was a lie. 

“Spence?” She squeezed his hand and he suddenly snatched it out from under hers. 

He tore his eyes off the wall and when he looked at her, his tears overflowed and started falling silently down his cheeks. 

“It wasn’t real.” He croaked out. “It was all in my head. It was never real.” 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t know how to tell you. When you mentioned her when you woke up…I didn’t know how to tell you she doesn’t exist.” Emily chewed on her lip. 

“She does it exist. Technically.” He tried to ignore the tears streaming down his face. “I must have met her when I was high and…I guess I created a whole life around it. And now she’s at the institute too and I can’t stop thinking about her as the girl in my false memories.” 

“She’s…she’s real?” Emily stuttered. 

“Yeah. She’s a drug addict. Not an FBI Agent. Not my ex-girlfriend. Just a drug addict I probably screwed when I was high out of my mind.” He hung his head and like in the car, his hand shimmied up his sleeve and his fingers pressed against the vein at the crook of his arm. 

“You were on a lot of drugs for a long time, Spence. It was bound to cause some kind of psychological effects.” She went to put her hand on his again but Spencer suddenly pushed his chair back. 

The metal chair screeched across the floor and he jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain that it caused his leg to do so. 

“I created an entire relationship in my head, Emily! I have vivid memories of being with her, of the two of us hanging out with you guys at Rossi’s. I imagined a whole relationship with her, one that still feels so real even though I know it isn’t! My brain was the one thing I could always count on. And now that has failed me too. How the fuck can I remember things so well that never happened?” He raised his voice, startling Emily a little. 

“Spencer, I wish I knew what to say.” She sighed sadly. 

“Why don’t you just say what everyone is thinking, Emily?” He glared at her wildly but she frowned. 

“What do you mean?” 

He slammed his hands on the metal table, the noise echoed around the small room. 

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fucking fault. If I hadn’t started using again, if I hadn’t put myself into this position…” he trailed off, grinding his teeth. 

“No one thinks this is your fault, Spencer.” She shook her head. “Everything that happened to you…you reached your breaking point. That is not your fault. You were pushed to it.” 

His eyes turned black with anger and for a moment she thought that rage was directed at her. 

“You’re right.” He growled, throwing his hands up in the air. “This is her fault. That fucking bitch! It’s all her fault!” 

“H-her?” Emily swallowed.

“Cat fucking Adam’s! She did this to me! She had me arrested which led to me relapsing. And relapsing led me to create these false memories with Y/N. She’s taken everything from me! Piece by piece she has slowly destroyed my life!” He was really yelling, spital flying from his mouth like a wild animal while the vein in his forehead pulsed aggressively. 

“Spencer,” Emily pushed her chair back and came closer to him, tentatively. “You need to calm down. I don’t think seeing Cat right now is a good idea for anyone. She’ll be dead soon and you won’t have to worry about her anymore.” 

“No, I have to see her.” He spat. “She is not going to her grave before she answers to what she’s done.”

“I really don’t think-“

“Screw what you think!” He screamed at her. “Screw you and screw the team. I don’t work for you Emily, you can’t tell me what to do anymore.” 

Emily took a breath, calming herself before she said something she’d inevitably regret. 

“Your memories might not be real but you said yourself that Y/N is. You should focus on that. She’s real and you have a chance to make real memories with her.” Emily tried to calm him to no avail. 

“The memories of her were the only thing I had left to cling to Emily! They were the only thing keeping me even remotely sane!” 

“Spencer, listen to me.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and he tried to break free of the hold but she held tight, forcing him to look at her. “You were going to find out eventually. And now you know and you have to deal with it. Being angry at Cat isn’t going to change anything. Being mad at her won’t make things different. What’s done is done and now you need to decide how you’re going to get through it. But marching in there and screaming at Cat is not going to change what’s already happened.” 

He stood still for a moment, staring at Emily and she had no idea what he was thinking. She hoped he would see sense, walk away and forget all about Cat Adam’s and the things she’d put him through. She hoped he was smart enough to know that whatever he hoped to achieve in that room would not come to fruition. She hoped he knew better, once he would have, but she wasn’t sure anymore. Spencer hadn’t been the man she’d known for a long time. 

He stepped back from her hold and shook his head, turning away from her and heading to the door. 

“I’m doing this. I have to see her.” He reached for the door handle as Emily reached for his arm but he shook her off. 

He threw the door open and practically crashed straight into Luke who was on the other side. Spencer briefly snarled at the other man before pushing past him. 

“And don’t you dare follow me. This is between me and her. Don’t get involved.” He spat harshly over his shoulder as he stormed down the hall towards the interrogation room that held his nemesis. 

He ignored the pain spreading through his leg at the effort of walking at this speed. It didn’t matter. He had bigger fish to fry. 

Emily and Luke exchanged a defeated glance, there were no words they could say that would change Spencer’s mind and they’d probably only find themselves on the receiving end of his anger if they tried. They watched him go, and they both just hoped he wouldn’t kill Cat Adam’s. 

***

Without preparing himself or even taking a second to calm himself, Spencer threw open the door of the interrogation room, storming towards the table in the centre of the room. 

Cat gave him that wicked smile that haunted his dreams as he pulled back the chair heavily and sat down in it. 

“Spencie,” she grinned at him. “I missed you.” 

“Cut the shit.” He shook his head. “I’m not here for your games.”

“But you love my games.” She leant her elbows on the table, threaded her fingers together creating a little bridge and leant on her chin on them. 

“Your games got me arrested. Your games forced me back on drugs.” He snarled. 

“Oh yes I heard about that.” She giggled and if he didn’t know any better he wouldn’t think her to be a threat. 

“Still keeping tabs on me?” 

“Of course. I have to make sure your life sucks as much as mine does.” She smiled so sweetly at him as though her words weren’t laced with poison. “How does a psychiatric facility compare to prison?” 

“You destroyed my fucking life.” He slammed his hands on the table and he saw her flinch. “You destroyed my life for what? Some sick fucking game? Because I arrested you first? You deserved to be in prison. I didn’t.” 

“Well now, that’s just a matter of opinion.” She sat back in her chair. “You said yourself you enjoyed hurting those men. And given half the chance, you would have killed me the last time you saw me. I think you know what kind of monster you are. You just hate that I bring it out of you.” 

“I’m nothing like you.” He shook his head. 

“You’re everything like me, Spencie. You told me, remember? You told me we were the same and that we were perfect for each other.” She leant forward and reached to cup his jaw. “Let me show you how perfect we really are for each other.” 

For a moment he let her hold his face in such an eerily delicate way it momentarily made him forget how much he despised her. But he soon snapped himself out of it, grabbing her roughly by the wrist and pulling her hand off his jaw. 

“Don’t touch me.” He spat, dropping her arm to the table. 

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought of my hands all over you.” She smirked. 

He knew he had to change tact. He was losing his grip on the situation. He took a breath and focused himself. 

“What happened to your baby?” His words caused a frown to appear on her features at the sudden change of subject. 

“What?” 

“Last time I saw you, you were pregnant with another man’s baby you claimed to be mine. What happened to it?” He folded his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” She averted her gaze from his. 

“Did you miscarry? Or was the baby put into the system?” 

“I said I don’t want to talk about that.” She growled. “If it was your baby I’d talk about it. It should have been your baby. I wish it was your baby.” 

“You disgust me.” He rolled his eyes rather than confessing that he’d wished the same. 

He hoped she wouldn’t see right through him the way she usually did. She raised an eyebrow at him, crossing one leg over the other as she inspected him. 

“If I disgust you so much,” she tilted her head to the side. “Why are you here?” 

That was a good question, one he still didn’t have an answer to. 

“To show you that you didn’t completely destroy me. I’m still breathing. I’m still alive. I’m going to beat my addiction and I’ve got the rest of my life ahead of me. You don’t get to win this one, Cat.” He felt sweat gathering at his temples. 

The urge to use again was extremely high. 

“Oh Spencie!” She cackled dramatically. “I’ve already won.” 

“How so?” He desperately fought to keep his expression neutral. 

“Look at you.” She scoffed. “You’re a mess. I took everything from you. Your job. Your sobriety. Your sanity.” 

The look in her eyes told him she knew the full extent of it, but how could she? How could she know about you? There was no feasible way for her to know and Spencer knew that. 

“You did take everything from me.” He suddenly confessed, standing up and starting pacing the small room. Cat watched his limp curiously. “You even took the one good thing I thought I had left. The one good thing I had left in my life and you took that too. You took everything from me.” 

“You flatter me, Spencie.” She smirked at his admittance. 

He moved closer to the table again and without sitting down, leant on it with his palms. 

“You took everything.” He repeated, staring her right in the eyes. “But I’m still alive. And that’s more than will be able to be said for you soon. You lose, Cat. The game is over.” 

Cat’s smile faltered and he saw something flicker on her eyes. Then she leant closer to him, fixing her smile and reaching her hand closer to him. 

“I’ll be dead but I’ll still live on forever up here.” She tapped the side of Spencer’s head. 

He snarled at her and stood up straight so she couldn’t reach him. 

“My only regret is that it wasn’t me who got to end your life.” He spat. “I should have been the one to kill you. Not the state.” 

“There’s still time.” She smiled smugly. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. He would love nothing more than her life to end at his hands. But he couldn’t. He’d already lost so much because of her. He wasn’t letting her have this too. 

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.” He spat. “I’m done here. We’re done.” 

He turned on his heels and limped towards the door. Cat watched him go as she fished for something in the pocket of her jumpsuit. As he reached the door, he was haltered by her voice. 

“But I have something you want, Spencie.” She spoke in that sickly sweet tone that sent a shiver down his spine. 

He grinded his teeth and took a deep breath. 

“You have nothing that I want, Cat.” He stayed facing the door, afraid if he looked at her he’d be sucked back in again. 

“Oh really?” She rolled the item around in her palm. “Not even this?” 

Spencer tried his hardest not to turn around, he really did. But against his better judgement, he slowly turned back to her. She had a proud look on her features as she held her hand open showcasing the item in her palm. 

Spencer’s blood froze in his veins as he stared it, a flashing beacon in her hand waiting for him. She was waving a red flag at a bull. 

“Well? Don’t pretend you don’t want it.” She chuckled, proffering her hand across the table. 

He felt his heart start to race and he swore his vein on his left arm pulsated as he stared at the small glass bottle. The small, seemingly innocuous item that was the one thing Cat could tempt him with. 

His mouth went dry and his right hand subconsciously moved to grip at the crook of his left arm while he continued to stare at the small vial of dilaudid in Cat Adam’s hand. 

“W-where did you g-get that?” He swallowed, his voice hoarse. 

“I still have friends in high places.” She shrugged. 

“I d-don’t want it.” He refused to move, couldn’t come any closer for fear he would take it from her. 

“You might not want it. But you need it.” She held it up, shaking it between her fingers. 

“W-why?” He croaked. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I never lose, Spencie.” She grinned at him, reaching her free hand into her pocket. “Can’t forget this!” 

She pulled out a needle still in its packaging and placed both items on the metal table. Spencer felt his neck start to sweat and his hands were shaking. Five weeks he’d been sober. And for most of those five weeks he’d dreamed of someone handing him a vial of his old vice. 

He squeezed his arm, pressing against his vein as if it would help stem the cravings that snuck back up on him. 

“Please,” he shook his head. “P-please put it away.” 

“Why would I do that? It’s a gift, silly. My parting gift to you before I exit this plane of existence.” She looked between him and the drugs. “Don’t pretend you’re going to walk out of here without taking it. You and I both know you aren’t strong enough.” 

He felt tears gather behind his eyes and he frantically blinked them away. He felt like he was back in that graveyard kneeling over Tobias’ dead body while he contemplated taking the drugs from his tormentor. 

That decision had been an easy one. Pocketing those vials of dilaudid had been one of the simplest decisions of his life. And ultimately, this was much the same. Because Cat was right, he wasn’t strong enough to walk away without the drugs. He hadn’t been sober long enough to feel like he didn’t need them anymore. One more hit would solve so many of his problems. 

He knew Emily and Luke weren’t out there watching because if they were, one of them would have burst in here by now and dragged him away from temptation. He could take the drugs and they’d be none the wiser. He could take them back to PIW and as soon as he was alone he could shoot up. And the promise of the euphoria that came with the dilaudid forced him closer to the table without really meaning to. 

“Are you really so sick you have to resort to this just to win a fucked up game?” His voice cracked as he spoke, not able to muster his earlier bravado. 

“You started this game when you lied to me about finding my father. This is on you. You started it, Spencer, I’m just ending it.” She pushed the dilaudid and the needle further over the table towards him. 

“You’ll be dead. You won’t even know if I take it or not.” 

At that, Cat started to cackle again, holding her stomach as she did so. 

“Oh Spencie, you will take it. You’re a drug addict, of course you’ll take it.” 

“Recovering drug addict.” He corrected her. 

“Oh so that makes me a recovering murderer? Grow up, Spencer. Once an addict, always an addict. Who we are never really changes, you proved that by relapsing after all those years.” She folded her arms, signifying she had no intention of taking the drugs back. 

Spencer moved closer to the table and stared at the vial and the needle. He wanted her to be wrong. He needed her to be wrong. But he knew it was true, he knew no matter how many years he was sober he’d always be a drug addict the same way she’d always be a murderer. 

He knew he could stare at that vial all day but the outcome would always be the same. He’d known the minute he saw it in her hand that he wasn’t leaving this room without those drugs. No matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. His fate was already sealed. He was a drug addict and his drug of choice was within arms reach. It was as simple as that. 

Wishing he were stronger, he reached for the vial and the needle and snatched them up in his hand before quickly stuffing them in his pants pocket. A devilish smile appeared on Cat’s face as she sat back in her chair and folded her arms in triumph. 

“It’s been really nice playing with you, Spencie.” She chuckled. 

“Enjoy hell you bitch.” He spat, turning as fast as his leg would allow and limping to the door. 

He threw it open and exited the small room, slamming the door behind him. He could still hear Cat laughing from the other side. He pushed his back against the closed door and put his head in his hands. 

The dilaudid felt like a led weight in his pocket, weighing him down as though his pants were full of rocks. He’d let her win. He’d taken the drugs like she knew he would. She knew he couldn’t resist them. And they both knew he was going to take them. He didn’t have the strength not to. She might be about to be put to death but she had still won. She’s beaten him once and for all. 

He tried to compose himself, anger and anticipation filling his body as he thought about the drugs burning a hole in his pocket. He just had to get back to the institute and he could finally have that sweet release he’d been craving for five long weeks. 

He eventually pulled himself together and found Luke and Emily waiting outside the prison. He didn’t even so much as look at Emily, let alone speak to her as motioned Luke to follow him. 

“Let’s go.” He spoke to Luke, heading down the path to the barb wire gate at the end. 

Luke shot Emily a small smile and a shrug before following the other man. They got in Luke’s car in silence and neither of them spoke for quite some time. Luke periodically glanced at Spencer who had his eyes trained out the passenger side window. After close to a half hour of driving in silence, Luke tried to engage him. 

“So, uh…how did it go?” He asked softly. 

“As well as could be expected.” Spencer replied without looking at him. 

“Right.” Luke nodded. “Do you uh…do you wanna talk about Y/N?” 

Spencer’s neck practically snapped with the speed in which he turned to face Luke. His eyes were nearly black as he stared at him. 

“What’s to talk about? I fucked up my brain so much with drugs that I genuinely believed I’d had a whole relationship with a woman. A woman who I thought was an FBI Agent but turned out to be an addict I’d met one time. I fell in love with memories created in my own head. What’s to talk about?” He huffed, turning his attention back out the window. 

“There’s still a chance. It’s not like she didn’t exist entirely. You can make those memories Spencer. But not if you let this thing with Cat destroy you.” 

Spencer caught the look Luke gave him out of the corner of his eye. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn Luke knew about the stash in his pocket. 

“Don’t let her have the final say.” Luke muttered, focusing back on the road. 

Somehow, Luke knew, Spencer was sure of it. He wasn’t sure why he was being so cryptic about it and not just coming out and saying it. But he was sure knew Luke about the drugs. 

Spencer decided not to say anything and continued to stare at the passing landscape. Neither of them said another word until Luke pulled up in the parking lot of PIW. 

He got out of the car and held his arms open for Spencer. Spencer hugged him briefly before stepping back and scuffing his toe on the concrete. 

“Thanks for today.” He croaked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He ran his fingers over the cool vial, feeling the anticipation flooding his whole body. 

“Any time man. Just remember what I said.” Luke gave him a small smile. 

“I’ll see you later.” Spencer shrugged, turning away.

Luke watched him limp towards the building entrance. He was sure something had happened with Cat that Spencer would never tell him. He just hoped after the events of today, Spencer would be able to keep his head above water. He prayed this wasn’t his friend's undoing. 

***

It was late by the time Luke dropped him back off and he made his way to his room. The first thing he did was get out of his suit and slip into his pyjama pants and an oversized sweater. He sat on the edge of his bed with the vial and needle and his hand. 

It would be so easy to take it. It would be so easy to shoot up and let his high consume, maybe even kill him. He even got as far as to fill the needle with the drug before twirling it around in his fingers. 

He rolled up his sleeve and used his tie from earlier as a tourniquet. But every time he went to pierce his skin with the needle, Luke’s words permeated his brain. 

“There’s still a chance. It’s not like she didn’t exist entirely. You can make those memories Spencer. But not if you let this thing with Cat destroy you.” 

He wished Luke wasn’t right. He hated that he was. He did still have a chance. You were real even if his memories weren’t. He had a chance to make real memories with you. 

But not if he did this. If he took the drugs he was back at square one. You were already several months into your rehabilitation and would surely have no time for him if he gave into his demons so easily. 

It was killing him to be so close to getting his fix and not actually getting it. It would be the easiest goddamn thing in the world to inject the dilaudid into his veins and deal with the consequences later. But what if those consequences meant losing you for good? 

“There’s still a chance. It’s not like she didn’t exist entirely. You can make those memories Spencer. But not if you let this thing with Cat destroy you.” 

Tears rolled down Spencer's cheeks silently as he fought an internal battle with himself. He was almost proud of how much deliberation this was taking. A few weeks, maybe even a few days ago, he would have taken it without hesitation. 

He paced the small length of the room, needle in hand until his leg screamed for him to stop. But even then he kept pacing a little longer.

He went end to end playing through the events of the day on a loop. Then he started recollecting the last five weeks he’d spent at the institute, everything from waking up with Emily by his bedside, to finding you, meeting Taylor and George and everything in between. 

And once he’d exhausted that he started reliving the small snippets of the past two years he could remember, mostly through the memories his friends had shared. Once his leg was throbbing he sat back down on the bed and stared at the needle once more. 

He spent so long looking at it his eyes started to grow heavy. Maybe things would make more sense after he got some sleep. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning with no reluctance and inject the drugs straight into his vein without a second thought. 

Leaving the tie around his arm, too drained to remove it, he fell back to the bed, tucking the needle and vial and under his pillow. 

And despite all the things playing on his mind, Spencer fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

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route warnings: (dubious-ish?) non-con; forced fellatio; manipulation; power imbalances; misogyny. please proceed with caution this one is kinda rough

➡ Turn back.

Shame cows your ambition, curtailing your hand’s daring arc towards the doorknob. Your arm retreats back into your body, burned by a phantom pain.

How could you be so audacious? It should be enough to simply admire Yuuta from afar… Just imagining how scared and confused he might be to see a fan in his personal quarters is enough of a gruesome mental image to shock you out of your starry-eyed stupor.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you hurry to put some distance between yourself and your tantalizing desire. Now that you are once more aligned with your cognitive reasoning and critical thinking, the darkness of the backstage corridor is kinda…spooky. Despite the deafening roar of the frenzied crowd just a few moments prior, the venue is now almost entirely empty. The only soundtrack accompanying your foolish venture is the ominous dripdripdrip-ing of the faulty, leaky water pipes hidden behind the sodden ceiling and peeling drywall.

Suddenly, this feels very much so like a place in which you do not belong. Turning on your heel, you make a mad dash to evacuate the premises from the way you originally came – only to run straight into something tough, solid, and warm.

Evidently, it is not a wall – otherwise, your nose would’ve probably been shattered on impact, considering how hard you bowled straight into the surface. But what else could be this immovable, this well-fortified and impassible? The only things that come to mind are brick and bone, which—

Oh.

Tremulously, you caution a glance upward, shivering in your grimy concert shoes at the thought of having to confront the absolute beast of a security guard who’d been eyeing you all night…

Instead, when your eyes finally grace the features of your obstacle, it is not at all the formidable security guard of your nightmares. In fact, the reality is much worse.

Looking down at you is Geto Suguru, ShinShow’s lead singer, in all of his six-footed, long, luscious haired, tattooed, gauged lobed, pierced-faced glory.

When you fail to produce any words, he smirks at you, seemingly relishing in the uncomfortable silence. With dawning horror, you realize that he intends to wait you out. His imposing stature is so broad and the dim hallway is so cramped that you would not be able to pass unless he let you. And, judging by his sardonically amused impassivity, he has no intention of doing anything of that sort.

Your gulp is audible in the dead quiet. Frozen, you linger in paralysis, an animal of prey caught in still waters.

“Well, you look lost,” says Geto Suguru, deceptively calm.

His face is the pinnacle of classic beauty: an unblemished, sanguine ivory mask. The deceptively easygoing set to his superhuman features sets the lids of his eyes low, cutting across the horizon of his irises in one neat, lethal swoop.

Any ShinShow fan with half of a functioning brain knows not to be fooled by this theatrical performance. It is this same, seemingly lackadaisical Geto Suguru who unleashes live performances inspiring pure, unadulterated horror and dread amongst an eager, addicted audience. His antics as the band’s front man have included, but are certainly not limited to: lovingly instructing his fans to refer to him as “Geto-sama”; regurgitating fake (?) blood on stage; displaying a seriously terrifying proficiency in martial arts as a form of choreography; and, of course, passionately and enthusiastically belting out self-composed lyrics lamenting the state of the world, the salvation to be found in existential dread, and the anarchist desire to destroy life as it currently manifests.

So, you know. Light work.

Point being: this is a man who you do not want to fuck around with. Even as a dedicated superfan, there are some risks best left unchallenged. You don’t even want to think about what he would say (or do…?) if he found out that you’d been sneaking around and preparing to break and enter into one of his bandmate’s dressing room…

“I am,” you lie, bowing your head in an attempt to shield your quivering bottom lip and your wet, shifty eyes. For some reason, you feel like he’ll see right through you if you let him. “Could you please direct me to the exit? I am very sorry to trouble you.”

Geto’s hearty laugh startles you into looking up at him. “Sure you don’t want a polaroid pic before you go?”

There are sparkles and glitter and sunshine and rainbows melting out of your head, leaking out of your ear canals, dripping down your neck and shoulders and onto the dirty concrete like liquified brain matter. “If—if you insist.”

This is how you find yourself posing against a disgusting brick wall with the one and only Geto Suguru. You would squee, if the thought of fangirling in front of Geto Suguru didn’t make you want to violently extinguish your own existence.

The only thing worse than fangirling embarrassingly hard in front of Geto would be the insinuation that he is your oshi and you are one of his “followers,” as he has lovingly (?) dubbed his personal fanbase. To bear the brunt of his condescending, considerably sadistic attitude which he wields against fans like a whip of love…

It would be indecent(ly erotic)! It would be humiliating(ly pleasurable)! You would not survive (with your dignity intact)!

Out of the kindness of his cold, dead heart, he takes multiple shots with you. The first picture sees the both of you shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling serenely at the camera – a standard shot for oshi and fan. The second picture is his signature M.O. for fanservice photos: your faces are deadpanned in joint, mildly disgusted unison, staring down the viewer with thinly veiled contempt. It’s a popular, ironic style for niche idols like ShinShow to poke fun at both themselves as well as the concept of idol fanservice in general. Secretly, you derive a different meaning entirely from the farcical display of scorn. It is as though you gaze at the viewer as a voyeur. Why are you here? Why are you looking at him? Why are you looking at us? Go away. You aren’t worthy.

The white-hot flash of a successfully snapped shot sears across your vision like the wink of a shooting star, immeasurably awesome, woefully transient. As you mourn this interaction’s inevitable end, Geto surprises you by asking if you’d like some digital photos as well.

Charmed, you find yourself unable to do anything but agree, albeit not too enthusiastically. Appearances are important, here.

After quickly unlocking the device, he smoothly slips your smartphone from your shaky, clammy grasp, raising it up to a fashionably high selfie angle. Inside the four-by-four digital reflection, you are confronted with a reality you have never dared hope to imagine:

Geto Suguru, long black hair loose and in disarray from a recent stage performance, makeup running down the chiseled planes of his face in pigmented rivulets, black-painted nails splayed in a facetious peace sign right underneath your chin.

Crap, his hand is really warm! You can’t help but to lean into the plush crevice of skin between his pointer and thumb…is it weird, that you’re kind of obsessed with how soft it is? For a seasoned musician with quite the gnarly disposition, his hands – much like the rest of him – are deceptively soft.

Is it really alright, to be this close to him? As he snaps the third and final photo, you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of skin-to-skin contact. Delusional from the proximity, your consciousness has been untethered from your body, entirely outside of the reach of normal human sensibilities. You are only slammed back into your own mind when a sudden, swift constriction of pressure on your lower jaw demands your attention.

Shocked, you try to turn your head to look up at your idol.  Subsequently, you are horrified to realize that it is his hand who restricts your movement.

In the mirrored image displayed by your phone camera, your trembling pupils track the slow spread of Geto’s lips which peel back from his teeth like unfurling layers of some fruit repulsively past the point of ripeness. Suddenly, his beautiful, white face of traditional peerless beauty now appears to you as an eerie mask concealing an unimaginably horrific reality.

“Did you know that I can smell your fear?” says Geto conversationally, still facing the camera, still smiling.

His mirrored image belies a reflection perhaps even more terrifying than an overtly antagonistic expression of anger or wrath. Instead of obvious malice, Geto’s undisturbed sanguineness installs within you a new and revolutionary kind of desperate terror.

“E-excuse me?” You ask, voice a tremulous, pitiful thing. “I don’t think I understand, Geto-san—”

Fast as lightning, and just as electrifyingly immobilizing, Geto’s large hand reaches upwards to smother your “You’ll use that mouth to properly address me Geto-sama, or you won’t use it at all. What is a follower’s role but to obey?”

A chill runs down the length of you, infiltrating your nervous system, hijacking your senses, arresting your higher functioning. Geto’s words sink in with fatal clarity: you are not escaping this. This is your fate.

Oddly, this realization excites you.

As though the line about smelling your fear wasn’t merely a maniacal bluff, Geto’s neatly-trimmed brows raise almost at the same time as you come to this conclusion. As a heady sort of anticipation fills your gut, his mask cracks for the first time, toeing the line between disgust and another, unnamable sentiment – one that lends a new kind of scintillating, sadistic twinkle in those small, dark eyes.

“Don’t tell me--” His fingers dig even more deeply into the supple flesh of your burning cheeks. “—that you like this.” Before you can curb it, a damning whimper flies forth from your dry throat, betraying your weakened knees, the weeping arousal between your quaking thighs.

More than being scared, you are egregiously humiliated. Not even a momentary reprive through fluttering your eyes shut is granted to you, for Geto violently shakes your skull in his palm until you are jolted back to staring into the selfie camera.

The frightened, excited tears that spill from the corners of your eyes only serve to further validate his salacious suspicions. “You do. How interesting.”

His gaze strays from your own in the phone camera, wandering to fixate on a point a few centimeters above your head. Is he plotting his next move? Does he know something that you don’t? Is he wholly sane?

Of course he isn’t! You scream at yourself, internally. Any guy who holds a girl hostage backstage is absolutely off his rocker!!

And yet – shamefully – you’re kind of into it.

Will you die tonight? Maybe.

Will you go out with a bang? Hopefully.

“Ghkfdbmmsnnmm,” you plea from behind his fingers. Graciously, he peels back his fingers, one-by -one, partially releasing your voice from his clutches even as he still hostages your face with cautious interest.

This time, when you speak, your voice sounds like a gunshot in the empty stillness of the desolate corridor. In this atmosphere, it feels as though there is not another soul alive besides you and your captor.

“Geto-sama. Please have mercy…”

He must be able to tell it’s an act. You don’t even sound convincing to yourself. The last thing you crave is his mercy.

“My, my. Such a turn this has taken,” he muses, fingers idly tapping away at your back molars. “What shall I do with you?”

Eat me alive, supplies your brain. “Whatever Geto-sama wills, it is my duty to fulfill.”

When you lock eyes in the camera, meeting each other’s gazes through the digital mirage for the last time, Geto shuts off the phone with one quick, decisive movement. You watch the system warning flash across the screen before everything goes dark and quiet. No more camera. No more phone. No more location services. The device drops to the ground with a heart-dropping clatter. You don’t have time to wonder if it survives the fall.

Geto turns to you for the first time in what feels like eons. Without the layer of pixelated filters softening the blow, being subject to his direct line of sight paralyzes you to the core.

“Get on your knees.”

Instantly, you obey. Refusal does not even cross your mind. The grimy floor rushes to greet your knees with a firm thud! The impact reverberates throughout your entire body, setting every single nerve alight with stimulation.

He draws over to you lackadaisically, like a tiger stalking its sure kill. Playing into it, you shuffle backwards, scraping your sensitive knees and shins against the unforgiving platform until your heels hit the wall behind you.

“Your fear is waning. You aren’t scared,” says Geto, undoing his fly. “You should be.”

Without further ado, he pulls out his dick and shoves it inside the wanton cavern of your willing, wanting mouth.

It happens so fast that your eyes can’t quite keep up with his movements, unable to visually register just how large his appendage is until it’s being stuffed down your throat. Bile rises to greet the tip of his dick and he is, apparently, into that. Makes it all the wetter.

For your part, you are struggling to maintain your initial excitement. In your lust-addled, starstruck stupor, you imagined that you and your idol shared a similar appreciation for the taboo mirage of consensually non-consensual liaisons. What you had failed to realize was that you were the only imaginary in this particular fantasy scenario. What used to exist merely as the stuff of wet-dream musings has now crystallized into a concrete reality; a reality wherein there are no safe-words, no underlying currents of care or affection, and no opting out.

You realize the extent of your disadvantaged position when Geto takes a break from brutalizing your esophagus to release you from his clutches and decides that he would rather rub his dick all over your face, instead.

Not only this, but he smacks you with it.

This isn’t even the stuff of brutal pornos. You’re no stranger to the horrors of exploitative snuff film, and even those seem to pale in comparison to the way he holds the back of your skull with one hand as he beats your cheekbones, your nose, your eyelids, your mouth, your chin, your jaw, even your fucking ears with his cock. From the crest of your hairline to the peaks of your clavicles, you are sodden with wet, sticky precum, battered with blooming bruises.

It all happens so fast that you barely have time to blink – definitely no time to indulge in the privilege of breathing. Geto’s movements become frenzied, harried, washing over you dark and fast like the rolling thunder of an impending typhoon.

Caught in the midst of severely troubled waters, ears roaring with adrenaline, blood, and terror, rooted to the spot by forces beyond your body’s will, your mind sparks to life with one last-ditch attempt at a moment of clarity:

What will you do?

>  Call for help.

>  Take it.

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