#and its sullen mood

[princessbellecerise]

Nameday Celebration

Summary ✩ Call it recklessness or sheer stupidity, but Benjicot is determined not to miss his lovers nameday…Even if it means sneaking into enemy territory for the night

Warnings ✩ Smut, oral sex, established relationship, brief mention of violence, fingering, foul language

The music around you was loud, and though it was quite merry, it did nothing to lift your spirits as you sat at the high table.

All around you, you were surrounded by the happy chatter of other lords and ladies that had travelled from all over to be here. Some of them even shared the same last name as you did, Bracken. But even though the evening was filled with music and light, warmth and laughter from your family, you still felt…disappointed.

You felt terrible, of course, sitting there in your fancy dress and feeling ungrateful at the ball that was thrown in your name—but you couldn’t help it.

People had come from all over the Riverlands for you, uprooted their lives and paid good coin on gifts for you, but none of that was what you truly wanted.

Your father had gone through great lengths to throw you this ball, spending coin that he didn’t have just to celebrate and maybe find you a suitable match.

By all means, it was supposed to be an amazing night in your life and yet you were so caught up in your feelings that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be thankful.

All over, you constantly spotted sigils from houses such as the Freys, the Mootons, and the Mallisters. Even the Tully’s had made an effort to appear but none of those sigils were the ones that you wanted to see.

None of those sigils belonged to him.

Admittedly, you knew that you were a fool to ever think that he’d show up here. Your father would have sooner died than invite a Blackwood into his home, let alone have one around his daughter.

It was a feeble thought, and it was stupid of you to even be upset. Of course Benji would not show up your nameday celebration. You had known that ever since it was announced.

Your lover himself had told you that as much as he wanted to, there was just no way for him to celebrate your nameday with you. He sure as hell wasn’t invited and it would be too risky and too bloody to just show up unannounced.

The chaos that would ensue if a band of Blackwoods showed up would ruin your nameday for certain. And as much as you wanted to see him, you understood that his absence was for the best.

Still though, the feeling of disappointment had its grip on you.

You tried to act normal and you tried to make it seem like you weren’t utterly gutted, but you knew that your emotions had spilled out anyways. You were quiet and withdrawn, choosing to stay at the high table in the seat of honor rather than get up and dance with every one else.

You had chosen to sip on your wine rather than prance around with a man you didn’t care about.

You knew it was petty, but if your father wanted to be petty as well and not invite the Blackwoods, then you vowed not dance with anyone other than Benji.

It was problematic, seeing you were the guest of honor and you had declined many lords already, but you held fast. Each and every man that came to your table was turned away, to the displeasure of your father.

His ulterior motives of trying to find you a husband were not as discreet as he thought them to be. Every time the word ‘no,’ left your lips to a potential match, his lips pressed into a thinner and thinner line.

His patience with you was slowly running out.

Even though others might not have picked up on your sullen mood, he did. You were your father’s daughter after all. It was easy enough for him to tell that something was wrong, and whatever it was, he wasn’t happy about it.

After making sure that the coast was clear and that was no one was listening, he leaned in and addressed you with distain in his voice.

“Is something the matter with the celebration, Y/N?” He asked tightly.

His eyes, similar to yours, bore into you from behind his mask. Curiosity along with annoyance could be seen pooling inside them.

The answer that you had been mentally rehearsing all night finally had its chance to slip out.

“No father. Nothing is wrong with the celebration. Everything you have done for me is beautiful and much appreciated.”

Your father clenched his jaw as you took a sip of your wine, trying your best to avoid his heated stare.

“Is that so?” A small scoff left his lips. “Then why is it that you refuse to act the least bit of happy?”

You swallowed as your mind flickered to Benji. You were grateful that your mother had insisted on a masquerade ball, and that your mask was big enough to cover your face. If it didn’t, you feared you’d give much more than you wanted to away.

“I’m not…unhappy, father,” A sigh left your lips as you looked to the dance floor. Your eyes lingered on all of the couples who got to dance freely. On all of the ladies that got to be with who they wanted to without it ending in a bloody civil war.

Involuntarily, envy pooled in your chest.

“I’m just..tired, that’s all,” You continued, hoping your lie was enough.

It wasn’t.

Another scoff could be heard from your father as his chair scraped. From beside you, on your left, your mother looked on worriedly as he hissed.

“Tired? How can you be tired, daughter, when you have not even bothered to grace the dance floor?”

Silence was heard on your part as you swallowed again. You kept your eyes in front of you for fear that you’d say something to make him angrier. It wasn’t your intentions to get into it with your family, not tonight, so you kept your eyes straight and your mouth shut.

You focused on the many people on the dance floor as your father simply shook his head, mumbling about how ungrateful his daughter was.

Your mother simply gave you a disappointed look, but you ignored them both as something caught your attention.

At first, you thought that you imagined it. A simple trick of the light perhaps, or maybe you just had too much wine, but you could have sworn that you saw a flash of black, accompanied by broad shoulders and wide, gleaming eyes.

Your gaze became locked onto the stranger that bared these traits, so familiar to you but so far away. With your heart hammering in your chest, you watched as he made his way onto the dance floor. You couldn’t see him yet, not properly anyways. He was still hidden behind the horde of people all crowded together. Hiding behind the multitude of dancers and weaving in and out of the crowd.

It took all you had to keep your gaze on him and not look away. You couldn’t lose him. Not until he got closer. Not until you were sure.

For now, you were stuck following his movements with care, watching as he came closer, and closer, until finally…

Your heart stopped.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or if you truly were hallucinating as your eyes locked with his, Benji coming to stand right in front of the high table. Beside him were two other men, all bare of any sigils and hidden under masks. But they were there. They were…

No, no.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t dare.

…Would he?

You started to doubt yourself. Telling yourself that there was no way that it could be him. It was too much of a risk. It was too dangerous for him to even consider such a thing…

But then he began to smile. That damned smile that you would recognize anywhere, under a mask or not. That and his eyes. You knew those eyes. That wide-eyed, crazed stare that often sent your heartbeat racing through your chest.

You knew them like the back of your hand. And sure enough, as you stared into the crowd, looking directly into those eyes, he winked.

Your chair scraped immediately.

Without much warning you stood, shooting a quick mumble towards your father before racing down the steps and towards him with determination.

Your father, thankfully, was none the wiser as you rushed forward, nodding in approval as you reached Benji and looped your arm with his.

He thought you had simply come to your senses and was dancing with some lord.

He had no idea who you were moving towards the dance floor with and if he did, you were sure that the smile would be wiped right off his face.

Lord Bracken would start a war if he knew a Blackwood had snuck under his roof, but alas that was the last thing that you were worried about.

You were more concerned about your lover getting caught, the fool having the nerve to laugh as you dragged him through the crowd. The two men he had brought along with him tried to follow, but they quickly ended up getting lost.

It was almost impossible to navigate through all of the twirling bodies, but you made it your mission to weave through them, Benji’s laughter getting lost under all of the noise. You were grateful that the masks at least concealed your true identities, allowing you to pull him along until no one else was around.

You managed to make it all the way to your room without getting stopped. As you did, you opened the door and all but threw Benji inside, making sure the door was locked before turning to your lover with a glare.

A wild gleam appeared in his eyes as he stared at you. It was obvious that he was more pleased than afraid as he grinned, crackling as he embraced you in his arms.

“Benji, Benji! Put me down!”

His laughter mixed in with your shouts of protests as Benji suddenly picked you up, spinning around in his arms.

The world suddenly went blurry for a moment as your lover twirled you, your eyes going in and out of focus. You felt dizzy whenever he finally let go of you, swaying a little bit until Benji steadied you.

When he did, you swore with everything inside of you were going to kill him.

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?”

Benji smiled sheepishly as you turned your fiery gaze on him, a mix of concern and anger lacing your voice. Worriedly, you glanced to the door, afraid that someone would burst through and discover him even though you had locked it.

With little time to protest, you were swept into his arms again and pulled against him.

“I was thinking that couldn’t help myself, my love. It is your nameday, and I had to see you,” He said softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

Instantly, some of your anger began to dissolve. You blamed not seeing him for weeks as the reason you began to fold so quickly, but some of your worry and panic still bled over.

“You had to? Benji you could have been caught! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here right now? If my father or the guards had discovered you—”

Benji cut you off with a loud laugh.

“Your guards are the sorriest cunts I have ever seen in my life,” He snorted. “I could have snuck an entire army into Stone Hedge and no one would have batted an eye.”

“Hey!”

You playfully swatted his shoulder, giggling softly because you knew he was right. If your guards had done their jobs then Benji wouldn’t be here right now. Alone in a room with their Lord’s daughter, staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

A million different things ran through your mind. Everything from terror at getting caught to just being plain excited that he was here flooded your veins. You kept looking over your shoulder, expecting your door to burst open any second while Benji continued to hold you.

It took a few seconds, but when you were sure that no one was coming to seize your lover and take him away, a smile broke out on your face and you quickly embraced him back.

You threw your arms around Benji and held him tight, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you laughed lightly.

“Leave it to you, Benjicot Blackwood, to risk death and torture just to wish me a happy nameday,” You whispered, feeling his chest rumble underneath you.

Benji shrugged. “And to give you this,” He said cheekily, pulling away. When he did, you saw him reach into his pocket for a second before slowly pulling something out.

You bit your lip as Benji handed you a box, a velvet box with the Blackwood sigil embroidered on top.

With a curious look, you opened it up and then gasped at what you saw inside.

“This is…this is for me?” You asked incredulously.

Benji nodded, grinning.

“Of course it is, love. You’re the only Bracken I can give that to without loosing my head,” He teased slightly before continuing.

“D’you like it though? I had to go four towns over, all the way to The Crag so people wouldn’t ask questions. Figured it would have been strange if a Blackwood was caught asking someone to make a neckless with a Bracken sigil.”

The shyness that he sometimes was known for was evident on his face as he waited for your response, Benji nervously playing with his hands.

Luckily though, he didn’t have to wait long. He sighed in relief as he saw you grin, pulling him into another bone crushing hug and kissing his cheek.

“Benji…of course I love it,” You whispered in his ear, making him shiver. You could feel him relax underneath you, hugging you back as your eyes threatened to fill with tears.

“You mean it?” He asked, a bit more vulnerability shining through.

Your heart filled with more love that you thought was capable.

“Of course I mean it. How could I not?” You asked him softly. “It’s beautiful, and I can’t imagine it was easy for you to even have this made.”

You made a jest in order to keep yourself from crying.

Benji laughed lightly. “Aye. It nearly killed me to spend coin on that ugly red stag, but I think the back of it makes up for it. Look.”

He gestured for you to flip the necklace over and when you did, you discovered that it was double-sided. On the front, the sigil of house Bracken was carved, unassuming to anyone who saw it. But on the back…

You ran your fingers over the weirwood tree surrounded by ravens and lightly gasped. It was the sigil of House Blackwood, the symbol that belonged to the man you loved.

In tiny letters, barely visible unless you squinted, the initials B.B were engraved in one of the ravens.

Benjicot Blackwood.

“Oh. It’s beautiful Benji. Thank you,” You said again, your voice thick with emotion as you saw it. This time, you weren’t able to keep the tears from your eyes, one of them falling down your cheek as you sniffled.

Gently, Benji reached to your face and wiped it away. He smiled lightly and gestured for you to turn around. Taking the necklace from your hands, he then unclasped it and gently placed it around your neck.

When he did, he flipped it so that the symbol of House Blackwood showed instead.

“There. Just as it belongs,” He said.

Sniffling lightly, you allowed him to run his fingers over it, Benji placing soft kisses on your neck before turning you around.

When you did, you immediately planted your lips upon his, unable to resist it any longer.

You could tell that Benji was taken by surprise by the sudden action, but he quickly wasted no time in kissing you back. He matched the amount of passion in your kiss, greedily drinking in the taste of you after being starved for so long.

Not long after, what started as a soft, slow kiss turned into something more. The desperation that you both felt after not seeing each other for a while pooled over, and soon enough you found yourself tugging on his hair, wanting something more.

Benji clearly felt the same as he began to lead you towards the bed.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft covers and your heart pounded as he leaned over you.

Once more, his lips met yours in a swift kiss but this time it was accompanied by roaming hands.

You felt him touching you everywhere that he could, Benji feeling all of the parts that he missed.

His hands lingered on your waist and then your chest, fingers dancing over the material that covered your breasts. It was clear that just feeling you over your clothing wasn’t enough. He wanted more, and so you weren’t surprised when he broke the kiss, eyes hungry as he tugged on the yellow garb.

“Take this off,” He demanded softly, his dark eyes wild with lust.

Quickly, you sat up and with his assistance was able to get it off. Benji struggled a little bit when it came to your corset, resulting in your lover getting impatient.

Regrettably, this meant that you would have to explain to your Septa why the strings looked like they had been cut with a knife. A little annoyance pooled inside of you at the inconvenience, but you tried not to think about that as you stared at him, anxious to know what he wanted next.

“Turn around,” Benji then rasped, taking no time to drink in your naked body. “I want you on your knees, ass in the air.”

Despite his filthy words, his tone was oddly soft. Desire pooled in your core as you obediently listened, eager for whatever it was he had planned for you. You laid your head on your soft pillow, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the bed dip behind you.

You sighed as Benji kneeled in between your legs. In an instant, your felt his calloused hands roaming over your body, trailing all the way from the small of your back to the center of your core. Gently, his padded fingers traced your slick folds, eliciting a moan from you when they brushed over your clit.

“Fuck, how I’ve missed this.”

You said nothing as his fingers continued to tease your clit, too busy panting at the sensation.

It had been too long, you noted, since you had felt your lovers’ touch.

The more that tensions between your houses grew, the less time that you had to spend with Benji. It was too risky to be seen anywhere near Blackwood territory and your father had doubled the guards, making it nearly impossible to sneak out. Your meetings had been so few as of late, leaving you craving his touch like no other.

Eagerly, you wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, moaning when Benji sank a digit into your tight cunt. You cursed softly as he began to pump in and out, loving the way he curled them inside of you to reach your pleasure spots.

It seemed that your time apart did nothing to impact Benji’s memory. He still remembered exactly how to make you come undone, adding more and more digits until your cunt was stuffed.

The more fingers that he added, the louder you moaned. Pleasure that you had not experienced in weeks quickly began to cloud your senses, making you forget that you were supposed to be quiet in case anyone overheard you.

You could only imagine the disaster that would ensue if Benjicot Blackwood was discovered knuckle-deep inside of Lord Bracken’s daughter. Making her come undone on his fingers, slowly but surely, and whispering the filthiest of words in her ear.

You imagined that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty, but alas all of those thoughts and worries faded away the minute you felt Benji kneel down, attaching his mouth to your cunt.

Any previous thoughts that you had were gone—replaced by muffled moans and incoherent blabber.

You whimpered as you felt Benji’s tongue lapping at your folds, eating your cunt like he was a man starved.

You felt him sucking on your clit, taking the bud into his mouth just as his index and middle finger curled against the right spot.

The combined pleasure had you gasping out, pillow forgotten as strangled cries left your lips.

Benji could feel your cunt tightening around his fingers and he smirked, coaxing you through your orgasm as you moaned and withered under him.

It took all he had to hold you down, using his free hand to keep your cunt firmly pressed against him. He refused to let up his assault until he could taste you on his tongue, the sweetness of your juices making him groan as well.

When he finally pulled away and released you from his hold, you managed to weakly look behind you and see him grinning. Benji licked his fingers, his face shiny with your arousal as he met your eyes.

“Hmm. So fuckin’ sweet. You want to taste, raven?”

Meekly you nodded, your face and your core burning at the nickname. Benji smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips while he grinded into you.

You could feel his cock hard as stone poking against your thighs. The thought of him being inside of you after so long briefly made you loose the ability to breathe as excitement flooded your veins.

The action allowed for Benji to slip his tongue in your mouth, kissing you sloppily for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

His wild eyes were dark with lust as he fiddled with his own clothing, loosening his trousers so that his cock could spring free.

You felt your mouth water as you watched him stroke himself for a moment, spurts of preseed dripping down the base.

Benji let a hand roam over your back and gently used it to push you down, spreading your legs so that he could settle in between them.

With your back arched and your face pressed firmly against the pillow once again, he teased you by dragging his cock along your folds and then, he pushed in.

Together, you both let out a whine as Benji’s cock sank inside of you, your lover letting out a swear as you gripped him tight.

It had been a while since the two of you had sex, and it was evident in the way your legs trembled, your cunt straining to take him as he sank deeper.

You let out another whine, reaching behind you for something to grip. Luckily Benji seemed to get the message clear enough, and quickly he intertwined your fingers together.

Once he was buried inside of you to the hilt, he stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Light kisses were peppered against your back as he leaned over you, holding you as close as possible before his hips began to move.

In a slow rhythm, he dragged his cock in and out as if to savor the moment.

As his hips snapped against yours and sent jolts of ecstasy through your body, your moans slowly started to combine.

You had forgotten how much you missed this. You had forgotten how much you missed him. Loneliness was awful but often times it was easy to get accustomed to it. After all, it’s what you signed up for when you took a Blackwood for your lover.

You expected to go days, weeks, or even months without seeing Benji. So when he was here, you did all you could to savor him before he had to leave again.

Every breath, every groan, and every whisper of encouragement was committed to memory. Every touch, every kiss cherished.

You relished in the way Benji’s cock felt against your walls, squeezing him as if it would somehow help you remember how it felt.

A small curse left his lips as you did, Benji leaning down to suck a love bite on your skin.

As his teeth grazed your neck, you groaned as he somehow managed to find both of your sweet spots.

“That’s it. That���s it. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Benji praised you as you began to fuck yourself on his cock, throwing your hips back and meeting his trusts. Your moans combined together as the pace sped up, the sound of heavy breathing quickly filling the room.

After a moment, you felt his weight shift off of your body as Benji opted to get back on his knees. He used his hands to keep your hips steady, pushing down on the small of your back to keep it arched.

With this new angle, he was able to drive into you quicker and repeatedly hit your sweet spot. Curses left his lips as you began to tremble around him, his own orgasm approaching at the same time as yours.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You gripped the sheets tightly as obscenities left his mouth, feeling Benji quickly pull out of you just as your peak washed over you.

Hot spurts of his seed coated your back, Benji spilling himself onto your skin before finishing you off with his fingers.

The absence of his cock was most disappointing, but by the time you came down from your high you barely noticed.

You were too busy in a state of bliss, turning around to capture Benji in a kiss before shakily pulling away.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked immediately, panting heavily as he collapsed next to you.

Sometimes, it amazed you how quickly he could change. One moment Benji was shy and sweet, giving you the most beautiful necklace for your nameday. And then the next he was making you cum, whispering the dirtiest things in your ear and fucking you so good that you saw stars.

Now, he had switched again, his soft side back on display as he held you in his arms.

He was careful enough not to cum inside of you and—much to your displeasure—had used your fancy yellow dress to wipe up his seed.

You suspected that he was too pleased by the action, but you opted not to say anything about it. Instead, you merely disregarded the dress and chose to cuddle in his arms, trying to soak the last remaining moments you had.

“Of course I’m alright. It is my nameday and I’ve just received the best gift of the night,” You replied after some pause.

You knew him well enough that you could practically hear the smirk appear on his face.

“What? The sex?” Benji asked cheekily, to which you playfully elbowed him.

“No you fool!” You giggled as you knew that was exactly what he was going to say. “The necklace! The necklace you risked life and limb to deliver to me personally!”

You rolled your eyes as Benji began to laugh behind you, the cheerful sound echoing through your chambers.

“Right, right. That is what I risked life and limb for,” He said innocently.

You didn’t have the energy to do anything expect roll your eyes again. You swore he was so stupid sometimes. From sneaking into enemy territory to making silly little jests, your Benji sure was a character to be reckoned with.

But, that was exactly what you loved about him.

Sighing softly, you shook your head and listened to the sound of his breathing. It remained steady behind you as Benji slowly relaxed, settling in your bed like he was simply at home.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was falling sleep. His body was certainly still enough to think so, but you knew as well as he did that he couldn’t stay here.

The party downstairs was slowly dying down. If you listened close enough, you could hear the final songs planned for the night dwindling down, and you knew pretty soon someone was going to come for you.

Benji couldn’t be here when they did.

Your father was probably already angry enough at your lack of presence. If he ever discovered the reason why you had so suddenly disappeared then he would have your head—Benji’s too.

And as much you loved lying in his arms, feeling the warmth and the love radiating from his body, you loved seeing Benji alive much more.

So, sure enough, as the final notes on the final songs began to play, he stood up.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue to take leave, then.”

Benji smiled sadly as he began to gather his clothes, redressing while you watched him with despair. The sheets that were wrapped loosely around you began to fall as you stood as well, walking over to him just as he readjusted his dagger.

“Do you promise to come visit me soon?” You asked him anxiously.

Slowly, Benji began to nod. He knew as well as you did that soon was debatable. Tensions were at all time high as whispers of war breaking out in the Kingdom spread. They added to the already strained relations between your houses.

Still though, Benji could not bare to see your disappointment. He didn’t want to leave on a bad note, either, so he settled for an unserious answer to ease the situation.

“If your father doesn’t replace his guards any time soon then I’ll be able to visit you any time you’d like,” He chuckled.

He was met by a small giggle that had his heart smiling with joy. Softly, you gripped his hand, savoring his touch as you knew that it would be the last time for a while.

“Stay safe out there, Blackwood,” You told him softly. “Don’t get into any trouble and for Seven’s sake, leave the assize stones alone. Make sure that you come back to me, you hear?”

Your tone was playful, but he knew that you were being as serious as a dead man.

Briefly, his lips twitched a little as he fought the urge to tell you that it was your family that messes with the stones. But ultimately, he agreed.

“I will. I promise,” Benji said sincerely.

A soft kiss was then planted on your lips, you and Benji holding onto each other for one last time. When you pulled away, a sigh of disappointment left your lips as you watched him walk away.

Closing your eyes, you decided to count his footsteps until he reached the door.

When you got to ten, you heard the door open. And one last time, Benji called out to you.

“Oh. And Bracken?”

“Hmm?”

You opened your eyes to see that familiar goofy smile, his eyes shining as he looked at you.

“I almost forgot to tell you, but happy nameday, my love. I do hope that this was a good one,” Benji laughed.

And with that, he closed the door, leaving you smiling and shaking your head behind him.

That fool. What one earth am I going to do with you, Benjicot Blackwood?

[novlr]

how to describe despair in writing

Despair is a visceral and crushing emotion—one that echoes through the pages of a story, gripping readers with its raw intensity. It is more than just a feeling; it’s an abyss that characters fall into, a shadow that colours their every action and decision with hues of hopelessness and loss.

Behaviour

Neglecting personal care or obligations.

A lack of motivation or interest in activities they once enjoyed.

Withdrawing from social situations or avoiding company.

Engaging in self-destructive actions or habits.

Consistent signs of fatigue or lethargy.

Frequent emotional outbursts or mood swings.

An inability to concentrate or focus on tasks.

Indecisive, even on trivial matters.

Focusing on negative thoughts.

Displaying a loss of hope or a sense of defeat.

Interactions

Avoiding physical or eye contact with others.

Short-tempered and easily irritated.tempered

Speaking in monosyllables or giving terse responses.

A sense of indifference or apathy toward others’ concerns.

Struggling to express themselves or to articulate their feelings.

Misinterpreting others’ intentions or words negatively.

Isolating themselves despite offers of help or companionship.

Being unresponsive to attempts at humour or light-heartedness.

Blaming others or external circumstances for their despair.

Seeking out enablers or situations that validate their mindset.

Body language

Slumped shoulders or a consistently bowed head.

Averted gaze or blank stares into the distance.

Fidgeting, such as wringing hands or picking at skin.

Slow, dragging movements or a lack of coordination.

Heavy sighing or audible breaths.

Neglecting personal space or boundaries.

Minimal gestures or lifeless posture.

Clenched fists or jaw during moments of heightened emotion.

Visible trembling or shaking due to emotional strain.

A general lack of energy or life in physical presence.

Attitude

Pessimism towards the future.

Cynicism about intentions, whether their own or others’.

Resignation, believing that effort will not change their situation.

Indifference to opportunities or choices presented to them.

A sense of helplessness or powerlessness in all scenarios.

Self-deprecation and a tendency to dismiss their own value.

An overwhelming sense of guilt or responsibility for past events.

A fixation on the negative aspects of every situation.

An inability to accept comfort or positive feedback.

Believing they are a burden to others.

Positive Story Outcomes

An epiphany or realisation that sparks a desire for change.

A gesture of kindness from another character that provides a glimmer of hope.

The discovery of an inner strength or previously untapped resource.

A serendipitous event that offers a new perspective or opportunity.

The formation of a supportive relationship or friendship.

Minor victories or achievements that build self-confidence.

Learning a valuable lesson through hardship.

Developing empathy for others going through similar experiences.

Finding purpose in aiding others, easing their own despair.

An eventual embrace of vulnerability, leading to healing and growth.

Negative Story Outcomes

A surrender with long-lasting consequences.

The breakdown of important relationships.

A significant loss incurred because of inaction or apathy.

Descent into a more self-destructive or reckless lifestyle.

The solidification of a character’s role as an antagonist.

A missed opportunity for redemption or improvement.

A worsening of the character’s situation, potentially affecting others.

The development of a trait or flaw that hinders future happiness or success.

A downfall that provides a cautionary tale within the narrative.

A tragic ending that leaves a profound impact on the reader and other characters.

Helpful Vocabulary

Desolate

Forlorn

Wretched

Crestfallen

Anguished

Dolorous

Bereft

Hollow

Numb

Morose

Sullen

Bleak

Languish

Melancholy

Hopeless

Despondent

Dejected

Heartbroken

Miserable

Pained

Woeful

Eclipsed

Defeated

Overwhelmed

Grief-stricken

Tormented

Disconsolate

Listless

Oppressed

Despairing

[manikas-whims]

LADS men when you start dating someone, who later on mistreats you

got this idea and wanted to get it out of my system ♡

ZAYNE

❄️ He isn't thrilled by the revelation at all but he won't say it outright because its not his place to tell you who to date or not.

❄️ However, his dislike does show with the way his brows knit together, the flare of his nostrils with every sharp intake of breath or how his lips turn down just slightest every time you bring up this person’s name.

❄️ Every single praise for this person will arouse a sense of self-doubt in him. After all, it's better you date someone like them. Their evol will never put you in danger like Zayne's can. And they would never skip meetings due to their schedule. (Ofc if you could hear his thoughts, you'd immediately shun them from Zayne's mind.)

❄️ If this person ever hurts you emotionally or physically, then best believe he'll freeze hell itself if he has to in order to track this person down.

“How dare you do this to Y/N!?” Zayne’s voice is harsh, cold radiating off his arms in dangerous yet controlled wisps.

And it takes you hugging him from behind, your head resting on his back, tears from your eyes soaking into the fabric of his coat, to stop him.

“Zayne, stop. You don't need to hurt yourself.” You mumble into the fabric of his coat, your arms slipping down to entwine your fingers with his chilling ones. You can already see the hint of a fresh scar developing on the back of his hand, and you won't be able to live with yourself if you see him getting hurt because of you dating a horrible person.

The prickly sensation begins dissipating from his hands and despite the scars, the softness returns into his skin. He turns around, drawing you into a hug with one arm. You can still see his chest rising and falling due to how much he'd been exerting himself.

“Fine.” He lets out a deep breath and finally flashes you the rare warm smile he only keeps for you. “Let’s go.”

And the two of you leave together.

XAVIER

⭐ Not that you're supposed to stay in this “will they? won't they?” situationship with your apartment neighbor forever but Xavier is just so jealous. His eyes darken, and his mood becomes sullen at the mere mention of this person.

⭐ Every time you try praising them, Xavier is going to interrupt and nitpick on how "they're always late on dates", "don't even check up on you at work", "give off a shady vibe",...the more he shit-talks about this person, the more ridiculous his words get.

⭐ He definitely gets a little touchy. After all, seeing you with someone else makes him feel as if he isn't as close to you. He makes sure this person sees his hand casually around your waist. And petty as it may seem, he's also deliberately gonna leave his hoodie and his other stuff at your place to remind you of himself.

⭐ If this person ever hurts you emotionally or physically, then no amount of prayers will spare this person to see the light of another day.

Xavier happens to see this person trying to approach you once more outside the apartment complex with words that barely sound like an apology. Swift as ever, he steps in front of you.

“You got some nerve showing up here after what you did to Y/N.” He says to them, an edge in his usually gentle voice.

He is as silent and deadly as you've seen him in the throes of battle, cutting down the Wanderers without a hint of mercy in his strikes. And you gulp down the tension in the air.

You know what he's capable of. You can't let him unleash the power of his evol simply because of your ex-partner maltreating you.

You bring your hand out and place it upon his heart, just like you'd done on your first encounter with him. Only this time it's not to resonate your evol with his but to push him back.

You force a smile on your face despite the messy state of your emotions. “Xav, let's grab a bite. I'm craving hotpot.”

His eyes are unflinching, and for a moment you wonder if even the bait of some tasty meat will fail to lure him. But then, a moment later he scoffs at the person and looks down at you, his gaze softening as he does so. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

He wraps his fingers around your hand– the same one that's still resting upon his chest– and pulls you along.

RAFAYEL

🌊 He's jealous but even more than that, he's disappointed in your choice. You can do way better than this. Actually, in his opinion, you are way out of this person's league, and deserve nothing but perfection when it comes to a partner.

🌊 He's quite vocal about his dislike, openly saying how suspicious he finds this person and how if you wanna indulge in wasting your precious time, you'd rather waste it on him.

🌊 He complains how you've changed. How you don't hang-out with him as much and pay less visits to his studio. Seeing you with someone else makes the ache in his heart more agonizing than ever. Rafayel wonders what you see in them? Do they cherish you more than him?

🌊 If this person ever hurts you emotionally or physically, then he won't hesitate from raising the tides of the Whitesand Bay in order to drown them.

You frantically chase after Rafayel as he corners this person. You've never seen this magnitude of fury in his beautiful eyes.

Rafayel grabs them by the front of their shirt, his voice scalding as he smirks in annoyance, “So you've finally shown your true colors to Y/N, huh?”

You can feel the temperature rising just a little, the atmosphere around feeling a lot warmer than before. Your nose catches the whiff of something burning and you realize there's smoke emanating from that person's collar.

It's scary.

Seeing someone who holds even a paintbrush so tenderly act like this. And no, you're not afraid of him for you know Rafayel will never hurt you. You're afraid for this person. You're afraid of what Rafayel is capable of becoming if you let him go on like this.

Cautiously, you wrap your hand around his wrist and free this person from his hold. The fabric of their shirt appears to be slightly charred but there's no harm done otherwise.

“Come on, Rafayel, ” You tug his wrist to pull him to you. “We shouldn't bother with the likes of them.”

He fixes his gaze on the person one last time. “Count yourself lucky Y/N is here! Or else..”

He pries his hand out of your grasp and pats your head. His smile returns, as does the warmth in his eyes and he puts an arm around your waist. “So, where are we going?”

SYLUS VERSION [HERE]

» MASTERLIST «

[ddejavvu]

hotch hiring spencer to tutor his (college aged) daughter, and hes so impressed with how much theyve been studying and how hes helped her grades, until one day he walks in on one of their "study sessions," but they're not really studying at all.....

Aaron knew there'd be no better person to turn to than Dr. Spencer Reid when his daughter began struggling with her college course load. You're having trouble studying efficiently, you spend so much time at your desk scribbling down ineffective notes that you forget to eat, sleep, and take care of yourself. He's worried about you, his heart aches for his baby girl, so he asks Spencer to start coming over on Saturdays to help you.

It works great. Not only do your grades skyrocket, but your mood does too, no longer sullen from having no free time or sleep schedule. You're back to your old self, maybe even happier now, and Aaron can't hold back the smile on his face as he ascends the stairs, an array of your favorite snacks in hand.

Spencer's inhumanly obsessed with cheez-its, and your own snack of choice is held in his other hand. He thinks the least he can do to thank Spencer is feed the man, seeing as he's so skinny sometimes his snug sweater vests are loose. You swing the door shut during your study sessions, at Aaron's own request, because he couldn't hear the television downstairs over the sound of your chatter. He doesn't think to knock, he's sure the creaking of your door's old hinges will be enough of a sound to break you out of your study stupor.

"Y/N, Spencer, I brought- oh my god."

Your dad's voice nearly goes down a full octave, sending your stomach swirling. He speaks low when he's mad, and watching you scramble out of Spencer's lap and straighten your wrinkled top, you're sure he's livid.

"I- uh, Hotch," Spencer babbles, but you smack the back of his hand to get him to shut up. He runs his fingers through his hair instead, combing out the strands that you'd mussed while licking over his bottom lip.

"Dad!" You chime, "Um- I'm sorry, we- I didn't know you'd come in. We just- we were studying, but then, I- I got distracted, really, it wasn't Spencer's fault, we- I just- I-"

"Stop." Aaron shuts his eyes, snack bags now shoved carelessly onto your bedside table as your dad brings a hand to his face. You're sure this is scarier than any situation Spencer's ever faced before, including aggravated unsubs and near-shootings.

Your dad buries his face in his hand, one large enough to cover his features. It's almost scarier not seeing his stern face; you wonder if his eyes are glowing red.

"Hotch- sir, I'm so sorry." Spencer tries again, and your dad holds up his free hand to silence him. He doesn't need to be told twice, or- thrice, and he closes his mouth.

"How long have you two been doing this?" He asks, muffled by his hand in front of his face.

"Only two weeks. Or- Saturdays, only two days. Just- this time, and, uh, the last time."

"It started last week?"

"Yes." You confirm, nodding even if he can't see.

"Are you studying?"

"Yes." You promise, smoothing out a rumpled study guide and hoping he can't hear it, "Uh- this is our- well, my break."

"Fantastic." Your dad drawls, finally dragging his palm down his face and looking you dead in the eyes. It looks like it almost hurts him to do so, and you feel residual pain in your stomach, churning away again.

"I suppose there are worse people you could be doing that with." He muses carefully, "Though I wish you weren't doing it at all. But you're in college."

"I am," You nod.

"And you're an adult."

"I am."

"And I can't tell you what to do anymore."

You stay silent, not wanting to push your luck.

"Okay. There's nothing I can do," He decides, face still more stoic than when he'd entered, intent on giving you snacks. If he'd had known you'd been eating Spencer's face, he would have saved them for later.

"Don't do it here." He pleads, "At least not while I'm here. And- and while I'm here," He warns, looking at Spencer this time, "This door stays open. Understand?"

"Yes, dad." You nod, and Spencer echoes it with 'sir' as a replacement.

"Study." Aaron narrows his eyes at the both of you, pointedly jamming the door stop beneath the door until it's practically punching a hole through the wall where the knob hits, "If your grades drop again, this is over."

"Yes, dad." You call again, waiting until he storms off down the stairs to even breathe in Spencer's direction.

"Oh my god," Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands, "Oh my god, that was- that was awful."

"He didn't say no!" You point out, grinning at the blushy man beside you, "That went, like, a thousand times better than I was expecting."

"At least I don't have to hide it anymore. Do you know how hard it was for me to pretend I wasn't putting the moves on his daughter while we were in Dallas this past week?"

"I know how hard it was to pretend I wasn't tonguing his agent during dinner last night," You shrug, grinning at Spencer who looks like he's not quite ready to be relieved yet, "No more secrets for either of us, pretty boy."

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[icekkeugf]

pairing: co-worker!jake x intern!reader (afab)

genre: porn without any plot, really...

warnings: jake is reader's work senior, breach of professional boundaries, impatient unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, use of the names "baby" and "babe", no apparent d/s dynamics

wordcount: 1,500ish words

note: koko engene era and writer era comeback >_< i can NOT for the life of me build on a plot but i hope this is to the enhablr residents' liking :P

a soft rustle of the sheets as his knees, clad in slacks, scrape against the silk. fingers, calloused and normally familiar, coming to rest on your thighs, thumb pressing into the side of it before painting a few circles deftly. an erratic sigh of your name slips past the confines of his mouth, his wet, pink tongue prodding out of its home to lick at his bottom lip that was previously tugged onto by his teeth. "jake...please!" head spinning, you suddenly deem it to be the perfect moment to recall what really propelled the two of you to disregard the boundaries that you once gave too much concern to.

it was a chilly evening, with dried and brown-leaved trees withering from the apparent breeze, creating a sullen atmosphere. not to mention that you had no interest in attending your internship work hours, but you were also carefully made the scapegoat for the irresponsible mistake of your direct supervisor. now having to clean up the spilled milk and possibly gather it back to its purest form, you push yourself against the backrest of your chair. id card hanging loosely over the button that conceals your pink bowed bralette, you squint at it, tears threatening to wash out at the very next and slightest inconvenience. 

that's exactly when sim jake, a senior of yours at the internship, prances in, seemingly in the brightest mood possible. jake and you haven't really had the chance to interact much, holding yourselves to the occasional formal greetings and polite smiles in passing. however, neither of you could deny the instant attraction you'd felt upon your first meeting and the gradual increase in the tension that lingers in the air, on the verge of jeopardizing both of your jobs. of course, this does not tempt either of you to breach the lines of your professional lives. 

"jake. there you are! our intern would appreciate your guidance." to your luck, you find him immediately walking to you, a quirk of his brows while his head tilts to the side. mustering up the last of your confidence, you nod hesitantly at jake, not failing to notice how his tie had been loosened to the point it almost seems fashionable. you don't comment, however, for the loosened tie provides you with an uninterrupted view of his milky skin and the expanse of his chest while he leans over you.

the gawking doesn't go unnoticed, his lips forming a thin line with a raise of his fingers to push his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "is that what you need help with?" you, at first, only seem confused—a sweet little deer caught in headlights—but when his gaze lingers over your face, then your shoulders, swerving left to your collarbones—then, to the little skin exposed above your blouse, you know you're doomed. because, how are you to explain to him the reason behind the very visible clench of your thighs, now pressed flush together?

it doesn't take long for the day to go by; it's a blur, really, filled with the vivid memories and sensations of jake's fingers that barely hover above yours as he maneuvers your handling of the desktop. the fleeting eye contact coupled with heaving chests when one catches the other staring a little longer than what is professional or normal makes you fuzzy. so, it's no surprise that things finally escalate when jake conveniently lets himself into the elevator that is otherwise empty except for you.

there's no need to exchange words as he backs you into a corner, his hips pressing against yours gently while his palms reach around your waist, caressing your lower back through your shirt. it's all teeth and tongue when his lips finally crash into yours. a desperate groan that he allows you to swallow resounds in the elevator that indicates a stop on the 14th floor. you frantically push him away while he fixes the one messy strand of his hair, his glasses fogged up by the minimal contact. 

you can't recall how you had to sneak into jake's backseat while he drove you two out the office parking. constantly teased by your toying hands, his resolve completely slipping, his hips pathetically rutting into the air while his knuckles whiten at the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. now, back in his lush apartment, glowing gold, an erratic sigh of your name slips past the confines of his mouth, his wet, pink tongue prodding out of its home to lick at his bottom lip that was previously tugged onto by his teeth. "jake...please!"

the said man lets out a short gasp, his name sounding so sweet when rolled off of your honeyed tongue. he reasons that he can't wait anymore, unzipping his slacks in a go, waiting for you to do the same with your pencil skirt. with difficulty, you do so, fleshy thighs bulging against his mattress, making his cock twitch in its place. not letting you speak another word, he pulls on your thighs, manhandling you into laying your lower half below his. no thought in his head, only the primal urge to fuck you into oblivion, and with that controlling his mind, he lifts your hips with a singular hand while the other tugs at your panties, letting its thin strip sit at the side to display your cute, puffy folds. 

he almost moans at the sight of your glistening pussy, the pretty gem visibly begging him to dip his tongue in for a taste. "you're perfect, baby. look at you, so pliant under my touch, your pussy's so pretty. all for me, yeah?" he asks, not really intending for you to respond to him, just blabbering whatever at this point. with a swivel of his hips, there's a sudden intrusion that has you cussing instead, your walls shamelessly clenching onto him like vice.

jake grits his teeth at the sensation, pistoning his veiny cock into your cunt with a certain force that has your eyes rolling back. “god, would've fucked you sooner if i knew your pussy was this good, baby.” he cries out, his hands finding home around your arms and pulling you onto him as he kneels down behind the mattress. even as you sit atop him, he doesn't stop rutting into you, fucking you like a rabbit in heat.

nipping at the skin right above your chest, jake rolls his hips to try and find a different angle. you kiss him on the mouth in appreciation, spit mixing together. you're driven far enough to tear up at the sensation of his cock lodging itself so deliciously inside you. you allowed yourself to rest your nose against his, lips parting while you unconsciously drool like a puppy, pavlov's theory, you suppose.

jake moans while you sink your head into the crook of his neck, licking and sucking at his unmarked skin, almost as if you're setting your claim on him. “you’re making such a pretty mess, babe.” he whispers after a long while of just the sounds of the bed springs squeaking and headboard rattling against the wall. this is just before he is delivering one final thrust and then spilling his seeds into your warm cavern. the warmth from his release has you clenching around his slowly softening dick, a tidal wave of orgasm crashing and making you thrash against him. jake breathes out, panting against your lips, before inviting yours to meet his one last time for the night.

[reidmania]

let the grass grow | spencer reid

summary; you love spencer too let him stay while your world falls apart at your own hands.

warnings; hurt x comfort w no comfort, exes, angst w no happy ending, self depricating thoughts, insecurities, self sabotaging, avoidant attachment reader, fem reader, early seasons spencer, mentions of not eating, scars but never says whats from, arguments, but u guys love each other. its just sad tbh. 1.7k words

an; this is purely for my own sake and i wanted to make it a comfort but i genuinely couldn't bc this is a very real and relevant issue that no comfort seems to comfort so.. enjoy the pain?? song is let the grass grow by ruel, my man my man.

‘so I'll leave before you go, ‘cause there's no tears when it's my fault this self-sabotage, all of our other scars don't compare. take the river to the sea, drown myself, so I don't sink, find my peace there, underneath the hurricane, break a promise, so I can leave, burn a forest so i can sleep. lay my head stone and let the grass grow over me’

You could feel eyes on you everywhere, constantly throughout the entirety of the day. Even though deep down you knew no one was really staring at you the amount you built it up to in your mind. Constant judgement and quiet questioning from the gaze of your co-workers made your stomach fill with an overwhelming sense of sickness, it made you want to crawl into a hole and remain there in a foetal position for the rest of the time life offered you.

Quiet whispers of worry bounced around the building from your co-workers to one another, each one who had asked if you were okay throughout the day – multiple times, every to which you’d reply with a nod of your head and a forced smile on your lips that left indents on your cheeks, when your eyes remained the same distant and sullen that caused their worry in the first place.

It wasn’t until you were leaving the building you heard the same question after a whisper of your  name, but from Spencer.

Your head turned towards him faster than you meant it to, you swore any faster and you would’ve ended the day with not only a worse mood than you woke up in but also whiplash. Your eyes met his and you wished they didn’t. The care is held and balanced evenly in his eyes, causing a slither in the walls you had built up around yourself and everything that fell below surface level.

“Are you okay?” His eyes studied your face as if he would find any hint of truth in your expression since he knew better than to believe the lie that fell from your lips. Spencer Reid wasn’t an idiot, anyone and everyone was painfully aware of that, you were painfully aware of that. He hadn’t asked the question the same amount everyone else did, he hadn’t even talked to you today until now.

You nodded in response, casting your eyes away from his and back to the elevator you wished would hurry up. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since you broke up with Spencer, it had been two weeks of Spencer everyday asking you why, and it had been two weeks of you being unable to provide an answer that seemed good enough for him. Nothing you said seemed to help him understand why you would break off something that was going so well, that made you both evidently happy, everyone could see it, everyone watched you both pine after one another for years.

“Talk to me” He begged for what felt like – and probably was, the hundredth time.

Your head shook, because what were you supposed to say? What did he want you to say? You didn’t know and for you that meant you were better off not saying anything, maybe because the truth you fought to keep away from the open air seemed so pathetic and embarrassing it was better left unsaid. He was asking you to show him the deepest and worst parts of you and you were refusing and he just wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t have anything to say” You replied, the same response as every other time he asked. It wasn’t enough, not for Spencer because he knew it wasn’t true.

He frowned, and it broke your heart. 

“I just want to understand,” He pleaded with you, reaching out for your hand. You pulled it away, what you were doing was mean, you knew that, it was unfair and mean to both him and yourself. Depriving you both of what you both wanted and yearned for so deeply all because you constantly felt like the world was closing in on you and things fell apart under your touch, it was just mean – but you weren’t cruel enough to allow Spencer the touch of your hand to pull it back all over again.

“I wish you would” You mumbled out, muffled enough you could convince yourself he didn’t hear even though you knew he did. You didn’t intend to be mean with your words, you wished he understood that you were physically incapable of what he was asking from you, it wasn’t something you could bring yourself to do.

The elevator dinged and the door opened and you were thanking the world, until Spencer got on next to you and now you were left in a confined space with the one person who seemed to break through the box of self deprecation you would bury yourself into, time and time again. You didn’t want him there, you didn’t want him in your space, in your mind and in the middle of your emotions that took you down day in and day out. 

You wanted him, that wasn’t something you tried to hide, just something you deprived yourself of because you didn’t want him to want you, you didn’t even want you. The fact someone else could, someone like Spencer, was overwhelming in a number of ways and it only furthered the insecurity that consumed you.

“I’m here, I know there’s more than what you’re letting on.” He said, you wanted to appreciate his effort of reassurance but it didn’t help. You loved Spencer, and you were now certain he was the sweetest person to ever exist. How could you allow yourself to indulge in something so sweet and so pure when you deemed yourself the opposite. You fell apart and buried yourself in your own issues, you spent days lying in the darkness of your bedroom body starved and scarred, you’d mull over every mistake you ever made and everything in your life that should have belonged to someone more deserving.

You didn’t answer him, so he spoke again. “I have been and I'm going to be here until you’re ready to talk about it” his voice was gentle and dripping with reassurance you wish you could accept because his words were suppose to be reassuring but they left a bad taste in your mouth and just made your heart clench tighter in your chest to the point you thought it might’ve stopped beating.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You said, not turning your head to face him but you were sure enough that they best portrayed what you were feeling, too much.

He let out a breath, a sigh of a sort and shook his head as he spoke, “I never said you did, I don’t mind waiting for you–”

There it was.

“I don’t want you to do that.” You snapped slightly, guilt instantly infested your gut but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t need him to wait around for this feeling to go away because it never did, your entire life, it never had and you didn’t imagine that changing. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Spencer. I don’t want you to just wait around for something that’s never going to happen, this won’t change. I made my decision” you huffed out the most you had said to him since that night you ended things which consisted of a teary eyed argument.

He dragged his hands through his hair as he tried to figure out what to say, then the elevator came to a stop and you were moving off it quicker than his brain could process and then he was following you and he was reaching out for your hand, even though he knew better by now. “You said you loved me, you said that while you were breaking up with me. You said you loved me and that you were sorry, you couldn’t do it anymore and then gave me nothing else” He stated, his eyes pleading for some sort of answer, something he could blame himself for.

That's not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to blame himself – that was almost a part of the whole point. If he blamed you for this, if you ended it now then there was no chance it would happen any other way. You could live with him blaming you with this, much better than you could live with getting hurt or inevitably hurting him. “I do love you Spencer” You said, you weren’t going to lie about that. 

Your arm pulled away from his touch but he only reached out again, “I’m trying to respect your decision, but I don’t understand. You love me but you don’t want me to wait, you love me but you broke up with me – I just- You’re doing this thing where–  you like to shut down and shut everyone out and I don’t want you to do that. If you don’t want to be with me then I’ll respect that but If you think I can stand around and watch you fall apart you don’t know me, and I would really prefer to think you did because for the longest time I thought I knew you and now finding out that maybe I don’t is– Well it sucks.”

You huffed out, you knew it was unfair and contradicting and you almost wished you had never gotten involved in the first place because you hated the fact you were hurting Spencer right now because your emotions were confusing. It was unfair. “I’m sorry” You started. He was right, you knew him and he knew you, on the slightest of a deeper level.

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologise and then brush it off. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest. You keep everyone at arm's reach, on surface level– I want more than that, I want to know you, and understand you, I want to understand this. Tell me what you need and I'll do it, but I need to understand why first.” 

How were you supposed to tell the single handedly most sweet, kind and perfect person that you were unable to provide him with the one thing he wanted – to know you. How were you supposed to admit that something as simple as that was too much to ask for. 

“There's this expectation that I can't reach, that I never have, never will and I love you, Spencer, that's true – but I'm not going to let you sit around and watch me fail time after time again to reach the expectation of basic human existence.” You shook your head as you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your body turned as you walked away.

He stood calling out your name but his feet stayed glued to the ground, and there was no response from you.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

[kentopedia]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 5.7k words

PART VI ♰ MASTERLIST

With your sullen mood resurfacing, a hazy dreariness fell upon your apartment in the week following Dazai’s departure. While you were happy to sulk, bury your nose in distractions and the taste of human blood, Atsushi was determined not to let you. With all the goodness in his heart, he picked you back up, put you on your feet, and stitched up the rift that was slowly growing between you. 

Although he was a human, and he did not have the wisdom backed by decades of living, he was a detective. A rather good one, at that. It was easy for him to spot the shifts in your moods, as subtle as they were. 

Atsushi never pried, never forced you to open up and spill all the details of what was bothering you. It was just one trait that differed from Dazai, who was always forcing your tongue, even with his own pockets full of secrets. 

For the week, Atsushi gave you space. He stayed at Ranpo’s as promised, and let you mope and drown in your own despondency. But when Saturday evening came, he had grown weary of the tension and stilted conversations that soured between the two of you. It was obvious from the way he continued to bring up the conversation, even as desperately as you tried to quell it.

Under your intense gaze, Atsushi uncomfortably sipped as his water, mustering up a smile. Although you normally sat beside him as he ate, with your own plate empty before you, it felt strange, this time. Something in the air between you had shifted, as he twisted in the chair, eyes flitting away before meeting your own hesitantly.

“Will you be staring at me for the entire night?” Atsushi asked, his tone playful, but only to disguise his genuine concern. 

A frown marred your face, and you blinked, realizing just how intently you’d been observing his every move. Like a hawk to its prey — a questionable comparison, to say the least. 

“Sorry,” you said gently, looking back down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to.” 

His eyes softened, but he said nothing, jaw working tightly as he chewed the tough meat. Despite his polite mannerisms, the action still grated at you, his teeth dragging against the other quickly becoming an irritation. Especially as the action of him swallowing the thick lumps of meat drew your attention to his pale throat, something of a beacon, shrouded in candlelight.

Atsushi saw you watching once again, and sighed. Although it was the first night that you had shared since he’d been away, he didn’t feel any closer, the space between you even colder than before.  

He knew how you hungered now, even if it had been similar to those years before him, when you’d hunted into the evenings with Dazai. Your bloodlust was uncontrollable and erratic, and though you’d never wanted Atsushi’s blood before, you craved it now. The sweet dessert that was coiled under his skin, paired with love and desire, tied up in a warm human vessel. 

Atsushi rubbed his eyes and set the utensils down. “No. I’m sorry. I know you wanted some space, but I should have made more of an effort… Before now. I should have—” Atsushi worried his lip, frustrated with himself for inconceivable reasons. 

You didn’t know how to tell him that none of this was his fault.

That thought led you back to that evening, just a few years ago, when you’d first seen him. How alluring he’d been, sitting with his mismatched friends, head tilted back in laughter. His voice may have been hushed, drowned out by the loud personalities of the others, but it was so precious to you. Back then, he’d been quiet, without much of the confidence that he had now. 

His self-discovery had very little to do with you, you knew that. But you’d loved him with all the intensity of an immortal being, and that surely counted for something. 

“It’s okay,” you stopped him, leaning over the table, wanting to reach for him. “I’m the one who can’t control my hunger. I’m a pathetic excuse for a human and a vampire.”

You didn’t say that last part. 

His face twisted at that. Something clicked, in a few breaths, as the reality of your words, your lust for blood, finally sunk it. It had always just been the thing between you. Atsushi had seen you drink from animals, had even helped you get them. Never, though, had it been him you were desiring, his blood that created such a constant state of anguish. 

“I know that it’s not…” He paused, thinking of a word to accurately describe his thoughts. “Conventional. It’s probably not even feasible for us to carry on this way. But I don’t want—” Atsushi’s jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from your darkened gaze to the floor. “I love you. I love you very much, and I may be a detective, opposed to violence, but I’m willing to do what it takes to stay together.” 

The words should’ve calmed you, sparked a sense of peace through your veins, but they caused your heart to sink instead. You didn’t want him to be familiar with your craving for blood. 

Instead, it seemed he only became more comfortable with the idea of it as time went on. 

“Atsushi…” you began. With the way you said his name, close to a scolding, you’d expected him to deflate.

But he remained stoic, his eyes never faltering with dishonesty. “I’m serious, honey,” he said, and then, he did reach for you, squeezing your cold hands against the table, fingers warming you almost as easily as the blood in his veins could. “I know how you feel about turning me, but I want to be with you.” The gentle smile swept back on his face, lighting it up swiftly, as it erased the sharpness of his previous expression. “We’ll just take things at your pace, okay?” 

The hold of guilt crept back up on you as you stole your own hand back from him. How kind he was, to offer you that, when it was him that was most deserving of it. “Atsushi, you must know I’m not a good person. You must know, by now.” 

“You are to me. You’re the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. Isn’t that enough for you?” 

Was it enough? 

If you were being truthful, with yourself and your fiancé, you’d grown uncertain. 

There was an abundance of love in your heart for Atsushi, but he shared the darkest parts of it with another. It felt wrong, to lead him into another life, on the promise that you’d be his eternal, faithful companion. 

You hadn’t even been able to do that in his mortal life. 

Instead of letting the truth spill out, you nodded, slowly. 

An exhale of relief left Atsushi, as he leaned back into his chair, more at ease than he’d been all week. “Okay. Okay, then that’s enough for me.” 

He finished eating, the tension between you still there, but diminishing. Atsushi seemed appeased, and finished the meal by chattering on about his day, his mood elevated. 

Then, as he took the last bite of his dinner, he seemed struck with an idea. “We should go out tonight,” he said, nodding to himself, already excited by the prospect. “We haven’t gone drinking in months.” 

You tossed him a skeptical look, but smiled, shaking your head at his excitement. Despite his laid-back, often timid nature, he could be quite stubborn when he set his mind to something. Especially if that idea — in his mind, at least — was something that could help another. 

He appeared especially convinced that a night out in the city would be enough to cure your woes.

“You know I can’t get drunk,” you laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “And alcohol tastes quite bland, as a vampire.” 

Atsushi ignored all your arguments, and came around the table, pulling you out of your seat. He laid a long, feverish kiss on your lips, one that stunned you into silence. 

“Who said you needed to get drunk? Someone has to be sober, to help get the other home.” 

“Ah,” you said, recovering from the fits of passion that he had seemed possessed by. Kissing him across his forehead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and responded playfully. “I see. This is a ploy to get drunk and then blame it on me?” 

He shrugged, leaning into you, with a childish expression. Lines creased along the corners of his eyes, on his forehead, reminding you that he was still beautifully human. And while he was only a year older than you’d been when you had turned, he still held the evidence of the happiness, the sorrows, that he’d beheld as a human. 

You, as a vampire, had been smoothed over, lines scraped into a perfect marble, not a blemish or wrinkle on your face. Save for the scars that had been permanently etched onto your skin, you were nothing short of perfection. 

It made you ache, sometimes, to know that you would never appear so human. You would never get to see yourself age with grace. 

A blessing and a curse, you supposed, as Atsushi pulled you from the table, kissing across your face with a profound smile. You would not get to grow old with the man you loved, but you could spend countless years with him, never wondering if he’d get sick without warning, if his heart would stop beating while he slept. 

Sometimes, you got so caught up in the misery of being a vampire, an immortal, that you forgot there was a sublime beauty to it, as well. 

Atsushi took you to his favorite pub, on the other side of town, near the detective agency that he worked at. It was a spot they all frequented after long cases. A respectable cafe by the morning, and a place for the scoundrels of the earth to settle at night. 

Saturdays were always busy, but this night seemed even more so, as you shoved your way into through the swinging, wooden doors, pressing shoulder to shoulder against those in front of you. An overwhelming stench of body odor assaulted your senses, rank and thick as it flooded your nostrils. Under it all, though, with each body stacked against the next, there was the flowery, sweet smell of blood. 

You gripped Atsushi’s hand tightly to resist it. 

The chatter was endless. With your hearing — so much better than any of those around you — you were subjected to half a hundred different conversations, the changes in pitch and tempo like nails to your temple. 

It was difficult to focus, your attention tugged in a thousand different directions. That was, until Atsushi turned around and smiled, that brilliantly beautiful grin akin to the light of a thousand suns. 

Your mouth parted; you’d almost forgotten how pretty he was. 

“This okay?” he asked, hesitant at the tension that grazed your features. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so busy, but if you want to leave—”

You stopped him, tugging him to your side by the lapels of his shirt. Standing taller, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, fingers twisting into his hair, longer on one side. “I don’t mind.” 

A small little sound left the back of his throat, and his lips curled against your own, as he tugged you to a table. There was a crowd of young men lingering by the bar, and as Atsushi pushed his way past with you in tow, they all stopped their conversation to watch, eyes following your every moment. 

In another life, that would have been your dinner. You would have leaned over the counter, beckoned them with a sultry grin, and taken them home, where Dazai would praise you on another successful hunt. 

You buried the memory, squeezing Atsushi’s hand tighter, and refused to think of ghosts. Especially of those that were still alive. 

The tabletop he decided upon was sticky, but it was one of the only remaining empty ones. A film of wetness had been streaked across it, dripping off the edges of the table. As a contrast to the darkness, a candle burned bright in the center of the table, wax dripping off in thick rivulets. 

Atsushi pulled out a chair for you, dramatically gesturing towards the seat. “If you would, miss,” he said, a shy sort of humor resting at the edge of his gaze. 

“Thank you, kind sir.” You took the seat, indulging him, and removed your gloves to fold onto your lap. 

There was no reason for any attempts at being a proper lady, not in this sort of environment. It wasn’t nearly as seedy as the place you had been meeting Dazai, but there were still corners with secret rendezvous, hushed whispers between business partners over smoky cigarettes. 

“Would you still like a drink?” Atsushi asked, brushing his thumb across your eyebrow. “I know, it’s really only to keep up appearances, but if you’d like one…” 

He seemed so hopeful, eyes glimmering with a reignited thrill. It’d been a long time since either of you had truly committed to an evening out, and even longer since you’d stopped here, where you knew his friends and co-workers often were. 

The taste of alcohol, without being tinged by the sweetness of blood, was quite awful. Still, you accepted. “Of course, honey. I can still enjoy the simple luxury of a little drink.”

You smiled and tilted your head, though you weren’t sure he caught the true meaning of your words.

Atsushi left, heading over to the bar, where a red-headed woman and an older man were working furiously, filling cups as quickly as they were handed them.

The alcohol spilled freely, splashing onto people’s shirts as they skirted around one another, the dark liquid quickly becoming large puddles on the floor. No one seemed any the wiser. 

It made you long for that feeling as a human, when it took just a few sips to get a buzz swirling through your veins. You’d never been good at holding your liquor. That remained true as a vampire, but you couldn’t drain an unsuspecting stranger right outside, when your beloved fiancee was so hopeful of mending the growing cracks in your engagement. 

Atsushi’s conversation did seem to go on with the red-haired woman, who spoke to him in a way that was something between cruel and affectionate. Atsushi only laughed, amused by her dark glare as she pushed two drinks towards him, moving onto the next customer. 

It wasn’t surprising that they knew each other, seemed quite familiar with one another, with as much as Atsushi claimed to come here. Still, there was a feeling that burned under your skin, one that you knew far too well, and hated nonetheless. 

You looked away, hoping that Atsushi wouldn’t see the jealousy in your eyes. That was the last emotion that you were deserving of.

Especially because if you told him the truth, if you even suspected the pretty bartender fancied him, he would only smile, laugh at you with a tint of pink on his cheeks. Atsushi would never look at anyone with longing when he had you. He was loyal, kind and loving, and you believed him when he promised that.

You, on the other hand, were a piece of shit. To put it simply. The same courteousy of loyalty couldn’t be offered to him — you’d already made sure of that. 

Although, when you thought about it deeper, watched her glance back at Atsushi as he came over to you, you realized that it wasn’t his affection you were envious of. 

She simply had something, the one thing, that you didn’t. 

Every woman that crossed Atsushi’s path would never have his love, not with you still in his life, but they could offer him a shot at a normal human existence. They could give him what he deserved: a happy marriage without bloodshed, children if he so desired them. 

They wouldn’t lie to his face about their past, their present, and perhaps even the future that they were already weaving together. 

Humanity was the only thing you had to be envious of. And even though you felt guilty for taking that away from Atsushi, there was also the hint of satisfaction, knowing that no one else would be able to offer him what you could. 

Atsushi handed the drink to you, and you took it with ease, letting your fingers curl around the cup, nails clicking against the handle. Already, Atsushi had taken long sips of his, the liquid dripping, soaking his mouth, almost obscenely. He wiped his hand across his face, letting it wet the back of his palm as well, all while you watched on with amusement. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” you asked, cracking a smile as he leaned back in the chair, raising his glass when someone in the bar burst out into some sort of chant. You’d never heard it before, but Atsushi hummed under his breath, a faraway look in his eyes as he leaned into you. 

“I am,” he said, kissing your temple, before taking another long sip of his drink. “I’ve been so stressed about the case, that I’d forgotten…” Atsushi trailed off, gaze dropped to his half-empty cup before sighing. “Well, I suppose I’ve been forgetting how to live. But, that doesn’t mean much, when we’ll have eternity, does it?” 

Resigned sadness soaked his words as he squeezed your shoulder, and it permeated your short-lived glee. “Atsushi—” you began, shaking your head. “No. You should live every moment like its your last. Especially when you are immortal.” 

His eyebrows pinched, forming a wrinkle between them as he tilted his head towards you. Perhaps, it didn’t make sense to him yet, but it would soon. Atsushi had no idea how difficult having centuries ahead of you could be, how intimidating to realize. He hadn’t seen vampires go mad because of it, throw themselves onto a stake or into the fire because they couldn’t comprehend that sense of time. He hadn’t seen vampires fall so easily to their emotions, because they had been unstable as a human, and that had never faired well without an ending in sight. Some didn’t take well to the blood-drinking, either, and it made them sick, for their minds were too fragile to hold on. 

There were endless reasons not to be a vampire, and you weren’t sure he fully understood that. 

“I don’t understand—” your beloved began, but he didn’t get far, as an unfamiliar presence approached, taking his place at the empty seat of the table. 

“Atsushi,” he said, leaning towards both of you, an elated grin on his face. “Long time, no see. How have you been?” 

You jerked your head towards the third voice, just as Atsushi did, the two of you wearing matching, irritated expressions. It was a man you didn’t recognize, with dark, auburn hair, and a self-satisfied grin. He was on the verge of being drunk, almost stringing his words together, sharp eyes glazed over with intoxication. 

“Tachihara,” Atsushi said, face falling. The smile he wore was so evidently fake, it was probably for the best that the man wasn’t sober. “What are you doing here?” 

There were very few people that Atsushi disliked, very few that he utterly refused to get along with. So it came as a surprise, when his expression coiled up with tension, his words spoken through gritted teeth and harsh lines. 

That was, until you realized what the man in front of you was. “Oh, it’s been years since I’ve been around, and that’s how you greet an old friend?” He sounded hurt, at first, before he laughed loudly, his faux annoyance giving way to amusement. “I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I interrupted you and and this beautiful lady. What is your name, by the way?” Tachihara turned to you, grinning lazily, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks, naturally flirtatious. 

You met his gaze head-on, sitting stiffly in your chair as you smiled, refusing to reach out your hand and shake his. Out of fear that he would feel your cold skin, see the fangs that weren’t even elongated, or sense that your beauty wasn’t quite natural. “I’m Atsushi’s fiancee.” 

Briefly, you reached out the soft caress of compulsion, attempting to weave into his mind, curl your own touch around his memories. But as you lingered there, you were met with a hard block, a gated entry, without a lock or key. 

Your gaze dropped down to his cloak, made of burgundy velvet, stitched with the cross of the vampire hunters over his heart. Then, your eyes drifted over to the golden medallion that hung around his neck. 

Shit. 

Outside of your own kind, there was very little that you knew about magic, or beings that existed apart from mortals. Dazai had let you in on very little, in a promise that ignorance was safer than knowledge. 

What you did know, was that people had been aware of vampires for centuries. You’d been the greatest evil to face humans, for a time, and while your existence faded into legend, and humans did not fear as they once had, there were still precautions. Some were merely rumors; promises that crucifixes and holy symbols would repel you, but didn’t. 

Some were old magic, like the medallion given only to specific ranks of vampire hunters. Most  were centuries old and were, to your knowledge, the only thing that could stop an immortal from controlling the minds of mankind. 

For a moment, you scrambled, knowing that even if there was a way for you to break past the barriers, infiltrate his conscious, you weren’t a strong enough vampire to do that. Perhaps if you were someone like Dazai, who had been alive for nearly three of your lifetimes, but you were something close to a child compared with those that beheld your same gifts. 

You resigned your name to the vampire hunter, hoping that he hadn’t caught the biting tinge of fear at the end of your sentence. Although, it wasn’t your life that you were worried about — vampire hunters were a nuisance, sure, but they were still painfully human. Ones that you could kill. 

Atsushi, on the other hand, could not. Even if you were innocent in the murders that they were investigating, if they found out that Atsushi had been harboring, loving, a vampire for two years, they would certainly execute him on the spot. 

You refused to let it come to that. 

“So, what brings you back here, then?” you asked, closing your hands together on your lap. “If it’s been so long without seeing Atsushi?” With a smile, you laid on the charm, remembering all the practice you’d had through the years, all the men you’d brought to their deaths. Tachihara may have been a sharp hunter with concerning strength for a mortal, but he was still a man. 

He seemed happy to indulge you with flirtations, smiling as he drank another beer and supplied you with all the details of his mission. “My boss sent us over here to help out with the murders happening in this city. They’re certain its a vampire — perhaps a coven, with the frequency.” 

“You’re not convinced?” 

Tachihara shrugged. “Vampires are usually more methodical. Or less obvious. Depends on their age, though.” He seemed to come to himself, blinking, as he glanced between you and Atsushi. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this. Not fit for a lady, and all.” 

“It’s fine,” Atsushi said, even more tense then you were, his back straight like a rod, as he squeezed your hand under the table. “I’ve already told her everything. She’s real smart, helps me out on cases, sometimes.” He swallowed, and though his words were confident, his eyes were not — which worried you. As much as you loved him, adored him, he was a horrendous liar. 

That, of all things, would be what got you into trouble. 

“I see,” Tachihara replied, intrigued. “Well, what do you think, then? I’d hate to be wasting my time here.” 

While you’d wanted at the very least, a moment to think, Atsushi was already spilling out his thoughts, mouth running faster than a race horse. “I wouldn’t be too quick to pin this on the bloodsuckers,” he said, shaking his head voraciously. “I’ve seen murderers with less reason than this, and they is very little evidence to point to it being a vampire, to begin with.” He took a breath, before continuing, quickly averting his eyes away from Tachihara’s scrutinizing gaze. “Only a few bodies were found drained of blood, and many had been mutilated in a very grotesque fashion. Anyone could have done so, couldn’t they?” 

Tachihara’s lips pursed. “I’m not sure—”

“Besides,” Atsushi went on, completing ignoring the fact that his friend had interjected at all. “The killings have stopped. Whoever it was moved on.” A heavy breath left him, at that, the final notice, to convince himself as much as the man who listened on with curiosity.

“Oh no,” Tachihara said, shaking his head as he snapped to attention. “Didn’t you see? They found another body this morning.”

Atsushi paled, the color draining from his face as he slid his eyes across the table from Tachihara. 

 Well. You’d consider that a ridiculously stupid miscalculation on your part. 

“I—” he said, shaking his head, suddenly startled. “Wow. I didn’t know about that.” 

“Hmm.” Tachihara licked his lips, taking the last drops of alcohol from his skin with it. “Slacking on the job, are we?” 

Although it was said as a joke, a slight jab between friends, there was also a hint of criticism there. 

Atsushi had stiffened in his chair, a mix of mortification and uncertainty replacing all other emotions. Those were written out, as plain as day, on his features. There was no room for lying. 

You held your breath, choking on the sound, as you waited for Atsushi’s reaction. His pupils had blown wide, the purple in his irises so deep they were the color of royalty, drowning out the brightness of the golden flecks. He swallowed, jaw clenching tightly as his sights settled on the woman at the bar, before he dragged them right back to Tachihara. 

“I must confess,” he said, with alarming calmness, one that made your hair stand on end. “I’ve had to take many breaks from the case. It’s…” he sighed, shaking his head, genuinely put out by his own ability to stomach the murders. “It’s done a number on my head. They’ve already removed me once from it, shipped me out of the city, for a while.” 

The amusement on Tachihara’s face dissipated, the smile lines smoothing as his grin dropped swiftly. “Oh,” he said, leaning forward, no longer slouching casually in his chair. “I’m sorry, Atsushi. I don’t blame you for needing a break.” 

“I shouldn’t,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s my job, and I feel horrible for needing to take time away for my own sanity, while people are losing their lives.” 

Tachihara nodded, coating his lips with saliva once more. “I understand. But, remember you aren’t alone in this. There are other people working on the case, and the weight of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders.” He reached over the table, nearly spilling Atsushi’s drink in the process, to squeeze his arm, supportive. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night out. I should’ve saved the work talk for next week.” 

“It’s okay,” Atsushi smiled, tight-lipped. He shrugged off Tachihara’s larger hand, his deep tan skin punctuated by harsh white scars. “I would be curious too, if I were in your position. But, I’m glad you’re here to help, vampire or not.” 

Your fiancé glanced over to you, chest rising and falling with the complex emotions weaving under his skin. “Right, angel?” 

How you hated when he called you that. 

He’d only picked it up recently — since Dazai had found you once again. Atsushi never could’ve known how deeply the term irritated you, how complex the memories that came with it were. Yet, he whispered it with such endearment, such adoration, breathing it on a simple exhale, that you couldn’t urge him away from it. 

You smiled, words coming through sharply gritted teeth. “The faster this all ends, the better.” 

It should’ve ended already, with Dazai gone. Why they had only now sent vampire hunters was beyond you. 

When you returned home, the last thing on your mind was sleep. 

Atsushi slammed the door behind him, a sound that caused you to jump. He was not an angry man, and so rarely let it show, or take it out on you. But, he began pacing the room with fury, his eyes ablaze as he considered the room like it disgusted him. 

“Fuck,” he said, weaving his hand through his silver locks, gripping them tightly. “I’m sorry. I knew they would come eventually, but I didn’t think—” His eyes squeezed together tightly, no longer showing the deep galaxy within them. “I didn’t think it would be so soon. How foolish of me.” 

“I’m the fool. I’ve seen this a thousand times before, and still believed that everything would be fine,” you said, trying to calm him down, as his soles burned holes into the floor of your home. The final murder would be your little secret, but you should’ve known that the vampire hunters would show eventually. Dazai had strategically held them off, but he’d grown sloppy, in his quest to capture your attention. “But we can’t keep this farce up with hunters around, Atsushi. They’ll catch on soon.” 

“How do you know that?” He met your gaze, pained.

You smiled gently, as you eased your hands away from his hair. “The murderer may not be a vampire, but I certainly am. This is what they do, honey. They hunt my kind for a living. They’re skilled, and if they find out you’re defending me…” you trailed off, the words speaking for themselves. “That’s why I think I need to leave. At least, for a while.” 

“No,” Atsushi snapped, his voice breaking at the end of the word. “No. We’ve been apart for so long. We can figure out another way. I don’t want to keep getting separated.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t think we can, this time. It’s too dangerous.” 

“I can keep you safe. It won’t come to that, I won’t let you get hurt.” 

“They’re stronger than you, and they’re not going to let friendships stand in the way of justice. If we aren’t smart about this, then we’ll get ourselves killed.”

“It shouldn’t be like this,” he said, eyeing you, his voice hard. “You’re one of the good ones. It’s not like you’re the one killing people. Right?” 

You knitted your eyebrows together, swallowing. “Of course not,” you said, hoping that it sounding more convincing to his ears than it did your own. You might as well have been driving the knives into everyone’s backs. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I just wonder if you’re certain you don’t know anything about this. You know your kind better than anyone, better than the hunters, even. Are you sure this isn’t a vampire?” 

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Your voice came out hard, indignant. “What? Do you not trust me anymore?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Atsushi snapped. 

A moment of silence came after.

Although you were certain no bitter emotions had taken over your features, something in his face changed as you leaned back and recoiled, drawing away from him. 

Then Atsushi exhaled, all malice draining out of him as he deflated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I know you didn’t do it, and I know you wouldn’t lie to me. I just wanted to ask again. Make sure. Nothing about this case makes sense to me.” 

“Right. Of course,” you replied. Your voice was chalky. “Well, it’s not a vampire. Even if it was, there isn’t anything I can do.” There was. “Vampires are inherently independent creatures.” Sometimes. “Whoever it was — is, wouldn’t stop killing, just because I asked them to. They’d probably see my socializing with humans, trying to hold onto my humanity, as a weakness.” That part, was honest, at least.

Atsushi deflated. “I didn’t mean to get upset with you.” 

“It’s alright. It’s reasonable to be.”

He nodded; you were both unconvinced, though by which words, it was hard to tell. 

“I think I should leave, Atsushi. Tomorrow. We’ll say I received word that a family of mine is sick, and I need to go take care of them. It’s reasonable enough.” 

“Of course. Of course.” He reached out to you, then, taking you in his arms in the cold room, fingers snaking around your back before pulling you into his chest. “I trust you. When it comes to this world, you know best. I’m willing to do what needs to be done to keep us both safe.” 

You whispered a response, letting your head fall to his collarbone as you inhaled, the alcohol and smoke from the evening a thick cloak on Atsushi’s skin. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I wish I could stay here, and we wouldn’t have to worry about the hunters busting through the door unannounced. I wish things were different.” 

The two of you knew what you were really trying to say. Things with Atsushi would be so much easier if you were human. 

“I wouldn’t change anything,” Atsushi said, kissing your forehead, even if you felt like it was a lie. If you were offered a way out of immortality tomorrow, he’d be elated for you to take it. “I love you just the way you are.” 

You smiled, placatingly. “I love you too, Atsushi.” 

He held you, for a few minutes, the two of you beginning to feel the warmth of the sun rising in the horizon at your backs. It wouldn’t be long now — you’d be off to bed, and Atsushi would be off to work without a moment’s rest. Then, you’d be apart again. Again and again and again. 

It seemed like fate was trying to tell you something; you’d continue to ignore her whispers in your ear. 

“Where will you go?” Atsushi finally asked, leading you back into your room, so dark and empty, like a lived-in tomb. 

You took his hand instead, squeezed it tight, and exhaled. “Home.”

PART VII

thank you so much for reading!! pls ignore any spelling errors & i hope my characterization of tachihara was okay :,) reblogs are always appreciated !!

[sehunniepotwrites]

WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you. 

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you.  But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be. 

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t. 

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you. 

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice. 

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend. 

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup. 

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive. 

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt. 

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

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© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[minhosbitterriver]

☕️ 𝐄𝐔𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀 ( stray kids )

❛ As you and Jeongin engage in an intense and synchronized exploration of your desires, the pleasure between you reaches a crescendo. Your intimate connection is solidified with tender expressions of love and a deep, satisfying closeness that comes with trying new things.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 13 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a little bit ago by a lovely Anon! Pegging is seriously one of my favorite kinks, so I absolutely loved writing this. Anyway, requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, smut, romantic sex, Jeongin is very needy, Reader pegs Jeongin for the first time, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

As you step back into your apartment, the lingering dampness of the rain clings to your clothes, a reminder of the photography date that was abruptly cut short. The sky outside is still a sullen gray, with dark clouds hanging low and heavy, casting a muted light through the windows. Jeongin, ever the gentle soul, immediately notices the subtle shift in your mood from the day's disappointment. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, are now tender and reassuring as he guides you towards the balcony.

On the balcony, the rain has softened to a light drizzle, creating a soothing rhythm as it taps against the railing and the potted plants. The air is cool and crisp, and you can almost taste the freshness that follows a storm. Jeongin sets down the mugs of hot coffee on the small table between you two, the rich aroma mingling with the earthy scent of the rain. He hands you one of the mugs, his fingers brushing yours in a gesture that feels both intimate and comforting. 

As you both sit down, the warmth of the coffee seeps into your hands, a stark contrast to the chill that has seeped into your bones from the rain. The balcony, usually a space for casual chatter and laughter, now feels like a sanctuary. The overcast sky and the soft patter of the rain create a serene backdrop that mirrors your mood—a gentle melancholy mingled with an undercurrent of contentment.

Jeongin, always perceptive to your unspoken emotions, leans in close, his presence a quiet assurance. He doesn't speak much, choosing instead to let the silence and the ambiance of the rainy day do the talking. As you sip your coffee, the warmth spreads through you, and you find solace in the shared silence. The rain, though initially a disappointment, now feels like a balm, softening the edges of the day’s abrupt end. 

In this intimate moment, the world outside seems distant, and the two of you are cocooned in a space of your own creation. The clouds may obscure the sun, but they also seem to wrap around you in a protective embrace. With Jeongin by your side, the rain transforms from a symbol of thwarted plans into a beautiful, calming backdrop for a quiet, shared moment. The heavy clouds and the rhythmic rain become a metaphor for the depth of your relationship—unpredictable yet always grounding, filled with moments of both storm and calm.

Eventually, as the rain continues its gentle descent, you and Jeongin decide to move from the balcony into the warmth of your living room. The transition from the cool, rain-kissed air to the cozy interior feels like slipping into a soft embrace. The living room is bathed in a warm, amber glow from the lamps, casting a soothing light that contrasts with the gray gloom outside.

You both settle onto the couch, the anticipation of a movie adding a layer of comfort to the evening. However, as the film starts, it quickly becomes clear that the attraction between you both is far more immediate than the plot on screen. What begins as a casual cuddle soon intensifies into a heated embrace. Jeongin’s lips find yours with a fervor that takes you by surprise, each kiss more urgent than the last. His hands roam with a possessive tenderness, and before long, he’s straddling you, his body pressed closely against yours.

The shift is sudden, and the energy between you becomes charged with a raw, desperate need. Jeongin’s movements are intense, grinding against your thighs with a fervent passion that leaves you breathless. His actions are both urgent and needy, a reflection of the deep connection you share. As he continues, you can’t help but tease him lightly, commenting on his evident neediness. His response is a mixture of playful defiance and arousal, his eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity.

Though this moment feels new and electrifying, it’s not entirely uncharted territory. You’ve both discussed exploring this kind of physical intimacy before, though life and circumstances had always pushed those plans to the background. Tonight, however, the rain and the quiet intimacy of your home create a perfect setting for finally acting on those conversations. The anticipation of a movie has transformed into an evening of unrestrained passion, as the barriers between you dissolve in the shared space of your living room.

In this space, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable magnetism of the moment. The air is thick with desire, the once-anticipated movie forgotten in favor of the intensity of the now. This spontaneous, intimate exchange becomes a new chapter in your shared experiences, a testament to the evolving depth of your relationship and the spontaneity that continues to define your time together.

As the intensity between you and Jeongin reaches a fever pitch, you feel his desperation mounting, each touch and kiss conveying an urgent need. With a deep breath, you gently push him off your lap, your hands moving with a deliberate softness. You guide him by the hand, leading him towards your bedroom with a sense of both excitement and anticipation. The transition from the living room to the more private space of your bedroom feels almost ceremonial, a shift from playful heat to an intimate, focused connection.

Once inside the bedroom, the atmosphere shifts to one of quiet intimacy. The room is dimly lit, casting a soft glow that highlights the contours of the space and adds to the anticipation of the moment. You turn to Jeongin with a teasing smile, your eyes reflecting a blend of affection and playful command. “Be a good boy for me,” you instruct, your voice low and encouraging. The request carries a weight of familiarity and desire, as you watch him respond with a mix of eagerness and trust.

As he begins to undress, you move towards your dresser, your fingers deftly searching through the drawers. The task of retrieving your strap and lube feels almost secondary to the charged atmosphere that surrounds you both. Each movement is deliberate, filled with a sense of anticipation that heightens the intimacy of the moment. The hidden items, usually stowed away for another time, now come to light as part of the evening’s unfolding plans.

The act of preparing for this new experience is both practical and deeply intimate. As you gather the items, you can feel the weight of the moment pressing in, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. The bedroom, once a simple space for rest, transforms into a stage for exploration and connection. The evening’s transition from a casual night to an intensely personal experience is marked by your actions and the shared anticipation of what’s to come.

The blend of intimacy and desire creates a palpable energy that fills the room, turning ordinary moments into a profound expression of your connection. In the dim light, surrounded by the personal touches of your bedroom, the evening’s experiences become a meaningful part of your shared journey, weaving together passion, trust, and the promise of deeper exploration.

Your eyes remain locked on Jeongin’s naked form, a mixture of longing and admiration evident in your gaze. Each movement he makes as he climbs onto your bed is a visual feast, his muscles shifting and contracting with a natural grace that both excites and enthralls you. As he settles into position, legs spread in anticipation, the sight of him waiting for you heightens the intensity of the moment.

With a deliberate sense of urgency, you start undressing yourself, the process a blend of hurried motions and purposeful pauses. You can feel the heat of Jeongin’s eager gaze on you, his silent anticipation adding to the electric charge in the room. As you finally reach for the strap, you do so with an exaggerated slowness, savoring every moment of his impatient whines and quiet pleas. The meticulous way you put it on is a tease, each deliberate movement designed to prolong his yearning and amplify the tension between you.

The contrast between his growing impatience and your slow, methodical actions creates a palpable tension that fills the room. Every sound, every shift of his body as he waits, becomes a part of the unfolding scene, heightening the sense of intimacy and anticipation. The act of putting on the strap, though necessary, transforms into a sensual ritual, a deliberate play that draws out the moment and deepens the connection between you.

In this charged atmosphere, the anticipation and desire become almost tangible, weaving together in a dance of patience and longing. Your actions, while seemingly slow, are imbued with a sense of purpose and intensity, making every second count as you prepare for the shared experience that lies ahead. The bedroom, now a space of intense connection, holds the promise of deeper exploration as you both await the culmination of the evening’s anticipation.

At last, with the strap secured and in place, you climb onto the bed, each movement charged with anticipation. You position yourself between Jeongin’s legs, the proximity amplifying the electric tension that hums between you. As you lean over him, your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, a dance of tongues and emotions as you both vie for dominance. The kiss is a blend of urgency and tenderness, each of you exploring and asserting your desire with equal fervor.

Just as the kiss reaches its peak, you’re caught off guard by a sudden shift in positions. In a swift, fluid motion, Jeongin rolls over you, his body pressing you into the mattress beneath him. The unexpected change in dynamics leaves you momentarily breathless, your back landing against the soft surface of the bed. Jeongin’s position is precarious, barely hovering over the strap, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement.

The transition is both exhilarating and disorienting, the quick shift adding an element of spontaneity to the moment. The bed beneath you feels like a grounding contrast to the heated exchange, the softness of the mattress absorbing the impact of the sudden movement. Jeongin’s barely restrained position over the strap adds a new layer of intensity, the contrast between his near-touch and your own heightened senses creating a palpable tension.

The surprise of the shift only deepens the connection between you, a shared sense of spontaneity and mutual desire driving the evening forward. The room, now filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and whispered words, becomes a stage for the unfolding intimacy. As you both adjust to the new position, the anticipation and excitement of the moment merge into a powerful, shared experience, each touch and movement heightening the intimacy of your connection.

As you watch Jeongin reach for the lube you had left on the edge of the bed, your heartbeat quickens with a rush of anticipation. The way he moves, purposeful yet tinged with a sense of urgency, only heightens the intensity of the moment. With a practiced ease, he sets the bottle by your head, his actions filled with a mixture of focus and desire.

Leaning in, he captures your lips in another desperate kiss, the urgency of his touch evident as he begins grinding against your thighs once more. The sensation is intensified, his need more palpable and urgent with each movement. The kiss is both fierce and intimate, a blend of passion and hunger that drives the connection between you both.

Your hands, eager and restless, explore each other’s bodies with a fervor that feels almost frantic. Each touch is driven by a deep yearning, a desire to feel every inch of him in an impossibly swift manner. The heat of the moment makes each caress and touch feel electric, every movement filled with a sense of exploration and intimacy.

As your hands continue their journey, they eventually find themselves focused on massaging his butt, a gesture both affectionate and assertive. The touch is deliberate, a blend of tenderness and appreciation, as you take in the feel of his body beneath your fingers. The act of massaging him adds a new layer to the intimacy of the moment, grounding the passion in a physical connection that speaks volumes.

In this shared space, the energy between you intensifies, each touch and kiss weaving together to create a tapestry of desire and connection. The lube, now a silent witness to your unfolding interaction, sits beside you, ready to facilitate the next step in your intimate exploration. The bedroom becomes a realm of sensory experience, where every touch, kiss, and movement heightens the profound bond you share.

As the grinding continues, Jeongin’s moans become increasingly erratic, each sound a testament to the building intensity between you. His body moves with a desperate rhythm, driven by a need that matches your own. Your hands, guided by a mix of urgency and desire, find the bottle of lube once more. With a deft, practiced motion, you squirt a generous amount onto your fingers, the action done without breaking the kiss. The lube’s coolness contrasts sharply with the heat of the moment, adding a new layer of sensation to your shared experience.

With your dry hand, you spread his cheeks, an intentional gesture that grants you better access. The movement is both assertive and tender, a blend of control and care that heightens the intimacy of the moment. As you explore the new angle, a moan escapes your lips, the sound a raw expression of the pleasure you’re feeling from his tightness. This moan is soon harmonized by Jeongin’s own loud and fervent sounds, each moan blending into the symphony of your shared desire.

The atmosphere around you is charged with palpable tension, the sounds of your combined pleasure filling the room and amplifying the connection between you. Every touch, every movement is a step further into a deeper intimacy, with the moans and sounds echoing the intensity of the moment. In this shared space, the boundaries between you both dissolve, leaving only the pure, unfiltered experience of your connection.

As your fingers delve deeper, exploring the contours of his insides, Jeongin’s grinding becomes more demanding, each movement a testament to his rising need. The room is filled with the sounds of your expert actions mingling with his escalating pleasure. The atmosphere is electric, the air thick with the shared intensity of the moment.

Jeongin shifts from being draped over you to sitting up, his posture a dramatic contrast to the previous closeness. His head is thrown back, eyes closed tightly as he loses himself in the sensations. He sets his own pace and rhythm, guiding the intensity with a self-assuredness that only enhances the moment’s raw energy. His movements are confident, each shift and grind an expression of his pleasure and control.

You watch with a sense of deep fascination, captivated by this new side of Jeongin that you’ve longed to witness. The sight of him so completely lost in his own pleasure, so responsive to your touch, is intoxicating. Despite him having the control and setting the pace, there’s a subtle, exhilarating power that you experience through the act of making him fall apart with just your fingers. This dynamic shift, where his pleasure is so intricately tied to your actions, fills you with a profound sense of satisfaction.

You relish the moment deeply, savoring the intimate power you hold over his pleasure and the new layer of connection it reveals. This experience, both powerful and intimate, allows you to explore and enjoy a different facet of your relationship, enhancing the depth of your bond and fulfilling a longing you’ve carried for some time.

You sit up slightly, positioning yourself just enough to wrap your hand around Jeongin’s throat. Your grip is firm but controlled, squeezing just enough to make him look directly at you. Your eyes, sparkling with a potent blend of desire and dominance, meet his with an intensity that makes him moan involuntarily. The sight of your unwavering gaze, filled with longing and command, sends a shiver through him.

As you pull your fingers out, a chuckle escapes you at his immediate complaints and whines. His body shifts restlessly, trying to keep you in place, the tension between your reactions creating a charged, almost playful atmosphere. However, his protests quickly cease when you gently guide him back over the strap, your touch both assertive and reassuring. You keep him there, the movement deliberate as you reach for the lube once more.

With practiced ease, you squirt a generous amount of lube onto your hands, the cool, slick substance contrasting with the heat of the moment. You spread the lube over the length of your strap, the motion smooth and purposeful. As you look up at Jeongin, your gaze is met with a sight that nearly drives you to the brink of madness—his eyes, dazed and full of need, reflecting an intense mix of vulnerability and desire.

The sight of his expression, so completely consumed by longing, heightens your own arousal and desire. It’s a potent reminder of the connection you share and the depth of the moment. The intimate power you wield, coupled with his visible need, creates a dynamic that is both exhilarating and profoundly satisfying. The balance of control and surrender, reflected in his dazed eyes, becomes the focal point of the evening, deepening the intensity of your shared experience.

Jeongin, guided by instinct and desire, doesn’t need any further prompting. With a confident yet eager movement, he places a hand on your bare chest, gently but firmly pushing you back against the mattress. The action is both commanding and intimate, a physical assertion of his desire. As he shifts, he emits a loud whine, the new sensation of the strap replacing your fingers creating a rush of pleasure and surprise.

He pauses briefly, settling fully onto your lap, giving himself a moment to adjust to the new sensation. His movements are deliberate, a blend of anticipation and need as he begins his anticipated bounces of pleasure. The room is soon filled with the almost explicit sounds of his pleasure—the slick, rhythmic noises of his movements, each one a testament to his pursuit of satisfaction.

You watch, completely enthralled by the sight before you. Every sound and motion from Jeongin heightens your own arousal, making the scene an intoxicating display of raw, unfiltered desire. Your hands instinctively reach for his leaking length, your fingers wrapping around it with a firm yet gentle grip. As you stroke him in sync with his movements, the pleasure he experiences intensifies, his moans becoming louder and more fervent. The synchronized rhythm of your touch and his movements amplifies the pleasure for both of you, creating a powerful and immersive experience.

The dynamic of the moment—his pleasure, your touch, the sounds filling the room—creates a vivid, exhilarating tapestry of connection and desire. The intensity of the scene, driven by your mutual need and responsiveness, weaves together a deeply satisfying experience that leaves you both captivated and deeply entwined in the moment.

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin’s moans reach higher pitches as the pressure in his abdomen builds, his rhythm growing increasingly erratic. The intensity of his pleasure is palpable, a mix of rising urgency and need. Observing his struggle, you decide to assist him by moving your own hips in a matching rhythm, syncing with the speed he initially set. The adjustment brings a renewed sense of harmony to your movements, amplifying the pleasure for both of you.

Your free arm wraps around him, drawing him closer as he drapes himself over you once more. He buries his face in your neck, seeking comfort and connection in the closeness. His entire body tenses, each groan guttural and full of raw emotion. The intense moment crescendos, and he relaxes almost instantly when your movements slow to a stop. The room is then filled with the sound of your combined panting, a testament to the exertion and ecstasy you’ve both experienced.

As the intensity fades, Jeongin rolls to the side, a thin layer of sweat clinging to both of your skins. You turn to face him, your wide smile reflecting the deep satisfaction and affection you feel. He meets your gaze with a loving expression, his eyes softening as he whispers, “I love you so fucking much.” The words, though simple, carry a profound depth of emotion, resonating with the closeness and connection you’ve shared in the moment. The exchange solidifies the bond between you, marking the culmination of a deeply intimate and emotionally charged experience.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: For @adragonprinceswhore and @mefools. This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together. 

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois. 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs…sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

[thought--bubble]

Hey, would you write something related to modern Aemond like: Aemond in high school is often excluded and harassed because he comes from a family considered strange and also because everyone has a view that he is strange. The reader is the only one who is kind to him and doesn't ignore him, and this is enough for Aemond to fall in love with the reader, despite never having had a real or very long conversation with her.

Additional: Aemond, despite maintaining a tough attitude, is extremely lacking in affection and is quite sensitive

This Is My First Ask So I Really Hope You Like It! The Characters are not in high school because i only write about adults but they will have originally met there. This got away from me a bit but I had a really good time writing it. I hope you enjoy!

My Salvation

Modern Aemond X (Long Term Crush Reader)

Warnings Under The Cut

Modern Aemond Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Allusions to Bullying, Car sex, Unprotected sex, Pining. IDK i suck at these any suggestions please LMK

"Everything is perfect" You think to yourself as you get yourself ready for your morning shift at the local coffee shop, and as far as you are concerned it really is.

You graduated from Highschool a few months ago and were ready to start your life as an adult. You had gotten yourself a job at the local coffee shop as well as signed up for the Autumn Semester at the Beauty Academy in Manchester.

Makeup for the stars was your dream and with the acceptance to the academy you felt like you were well on your way to achieving that goal.

Your day starts off like any other. You walk into the coffee shop apron in hand and greet your Co-worker Floris. She was a very popular girl back in your high school and dated the local bad boy Cregan Stark on and off for years.

"Good Morning Floris" You smile sweetly at her as you make your way behind the counter.

"Morning" She sighs letting you know the Floris you get to interaact with today is going to be the moody Floris. Internally you sarcastically thank Cregan for breaking up with her yet again and leaving you to deal with her sullen disposition, but you being the ball of sunshine that you are try and bring up the mood with cheerful banter.

"Has it been busy today?" You attempt to make conversation hoping she will bite at the bit so you don't have to suffer through one of those awkward days where she is silent and brooding through almost the entirety of your shared shift.

"No" she answers short and curt. you briefly rub your fingers against your forehead, if you don't figure out how to get her into at least a little bit better of a mood this is going to be a very long annoying shift.

The bell over the door jingles signaling that a customer has entered the shop.

"its back" Floris says annoyed.

"Stop that" You scold as you look toward the door.

There he is, your most common customer. Aemond Targaryen. He has his long blonde hair tied back and his eye patch on. You never understood why he wears that outdated thing. He must think it adds to his mystery persona.

Aemond is a bit of an oddball. Never fit in much in school. He is after all a Targaryen. The fact that he lost an eye in some sort of childhood accident, made him that much more different than everyone else. Which around here, is never a good thing.

"Hey there Aemond, the usual?" you ask him, your typical bubbly demeanor on full display.

"Yes please"" his answers are always so short and void of emotion. never mean or aggressive just short and cold.

You smile at him happily while you prepare his usual black coffee with tons of sugar. How he drinks his coffee like this you will never understand.

You spoke to Aemond sparingly back in school, which although is most than other students, still wasn't much. You wouldn't say you are friends but you do hold a bit of an affinity for him.

He had a tough time. No one could deny that. He was ignored, ostracized. Not that he would ever let anyone know if that fact actually bothered him, you always assumed that it did. At least to some degree.

You hand him the coffee with a big smile on your face. He takes it from you and nods. Making his way to his usual table and pulling out his laptop.

"Why does he stay?" Floris whispers "It's weird"

You shoot her a pointed look. "It is not weird for someone to sit down and work in a coffee shop, actually, it's quite common. Kindness isn't difficult. you should try it"

"You are aware their family tree doesn't have quite enough branches right?" Floris says while chuckling.

"A lot of royal families have that .... kind of history, they are descendants of royalty. Its been like what? 100 generations or something? Don't you think it's time for a new plot point?"

Floris sighs "He's just .... weird"

You roll your eyes and can't help but glance over at the mysterious man. Watching him type away on his laptop and staring at his side profile. If he wasn't the silent brooding type or a Targaryen the girls at school probably would have been all over him. He is obviously handsome with a jaw line that could cut diamonds. Its that icy chill around him and that albatross of a last name that had him shunned.

As your shift continues you occasionally glance over at him. His coffee long gone but still he stays typing away as other customers come and go.

"What do you think he's working on?" you wonder out loud

"Some version of the Targaryen anarchists cookbook i'm sure..... "

You sigh and roll your eyes again. Why could no one seem to look at the man himself instead of his family? Instead of the eye patch? It seemed so cruel.

"Do you mind if I head out 20 minutes early? Cregan wants to talk" she starts putting her jacket on before you even respond.

"Yeah that's fine, Sara and Jace should be here any minute anyway."

You watch as she quickly gathers her things running out of the shop. You tap your fingers on the counter. The shop is now empty save for Aemond typing away on his laptop.

"Hey Aemond?" You practically yell across the shop. He looks up at you furrowing his brows but doesn't say anything.

"You want a muffin or something?" you offer holding up a double chocolate muffin and wiggling it back an forth.

He simply shakes his head returning his focus back to the laptop in front of him. you sigh as you come to the conclusion that it is going to be a long and boring 20 minutes before second shift shows up.

Probably five minutes before Sara and Jace are due to arrive the downpour starts.

"oh well isn't that grand" you mumble to yourself.

You have been trying to save up for a car. Your parents couldn't afford to buy you one at the present time, and with the wages earned at the coffee shop it would most likely take the entire summer for you to save up enough so you walked to and from work. This typically wasn't a big deal since you lived close by but torrential rain always made the experience a lot less pleasant.

Jace comes running in soaked to the bone.

"Please tell me you just ran a mile and not just 5 seconds from the car park?" the grimace on your face outwardly showing how you are feeling

"Nah this is the 2 second walk from the car park it's serious out there right now!" he laughs while he shakes his hair off.

He comes around the back of the counter.

"He's here again huh? I could ask him to stop?" Jace whispers

"No, he's fine, he has a coffee works on whatever and then he goes."

"He always comes at the beginning of your shift and leaves at the end of it. You don't think that is a little weird?"

"Isn't he like your cousin or something? I would think that you would be nicer" you take off your apron and hold it in your hands.

"uncle, and we're not close" Jace heads to the backroom trying to dry himself off. "When sara gets here, I'm sure she won't mind running the store alone a few minutes so's I can drop you off"

"No, I'm ok. Just a little rain, Heard rainwater is good for your hair" You chuckle to yourself. "Bye Jace"

Jace waves as you head out the door of the shop and the second you get outside you can't believe how hard it is raining.

"Let me take you." Aemonds cool voice comes from behind you.

"Oh!" you jump and turn around his face, still as stone looking at you awaiting your answer.

"Thanks, that would be very kind" You decide to accept his offer. Firstly, it is downpouring and you really don't want to ruin your shoes and second, he can't escape you in a tiny car. He will have to finally speak.

The two of you run over to his Porsche. Of course he would have a Porsche.

"I'm getting your seat wet, i'm so sorry" you blurt out the moment the two of you are in the car.

"Don't worry about it" He turns the car on and turns on the heat.

"Thank you for this." You smile at him hoping he will look over at you.

Instead he just nods and puts the car in reverse backing out of the parking space.

You don't even tell him where you live but he pulls out front of your building anyway.

"Ummm.... how did you?"

"I dropped you off junior year after your friend ditched you."

"Right, I forgot about that" you scratch the back of your neck and purse your lips but don't make a move towards getting out of the car.

"Why do you come see me?" you look directly at him.

"What?" His voice sounds a bit defensive

"I'm not bothered by it. Really, I'm just curious"

"I like coffee." He answers as he turns his head toward you.

"No. it's something else. C'mon tell me" you flutter your lashes and give him a puppy dog look, no one can withstand your puppy dog look.

He chuckles and rolls his neck. "I remember"

This peaks your interest "Remember what?"

He sighs "I remember every single time you talked to me, looked at me, walked by me and waved. Hell, i remember when you held the door open for me. twice"

Your breath catches in your throat.

"I'm not crazy and i'm not a stalker i swear" he rubs his collar bone nervously. "it's just..... you were my salvation. The one person who didn't run from me or sneer at me or judge me and hate me" he grips the steering wheel tightly.

you reach over and gently rub his knuckles as they turn white. he takes a deep breath in at the skin to skin contact.

"So in other words.... you miss me?" You ask with a tiny smile and a blush on your cheeks.

"yeah, if you wanna make it simple i guess that would be the right term for it"

"How much?" Your voice drops from your sweet and kind persona, to a more sultry sound.

Aemond catches this right away. "Umm.... what?"

you get up on the seat, on your knees and lean over the center console. getting up close to his ear. "How much did you miss me? Like, was it driving you crazy?" You place your hand on his shoulder tracing your finger along his neck "Keeping you up at night?"

his breath comes out in unsteady huffs "You really shouldn't"

"Hmmm?"

"I will not be able to control myself if you keep that up" he grips the steering wheel tighter and suddenly the situation in this car had changed completely.

You were no longer teasing him to get a rise and reaction out of him. Him stating he wouldn't be able to control himself lit a fire in you. You felt this urge to push him there. A burning pooling in your belly you were not going to ignore. No, just this once you were going to indulge.

You lean over further bringing your mouth to his ear. "Maybe I want to see it"

He bites his bottom lip, then grabs your face pressing his lips against yours harshly. Lust and desperation apparent in his kiss. His hand slides up the back of your neck to the base of your head holding you close as he continues to devour you. Like a man starved.

Before your brain has even caught up to what is happening he grips your thigh harshly pulling you over the center console and into his lap. he quickly grabs your hips pushing you down into him as his tongue continues to explore your mouth.

"I've dreamt of this for ages" he whispers as he kisses and nibbles along your jawline making you purr contently. Being wanted this bad is the biggest turn on you have ever experienced.

You roll your hips against him chasing that pressure. When he feels this he growls and pushes your core against him as he ruts up against you.

"I have to have it." He begs with a breathy sigh "Gods please i have to"

You unbuckle your khakis and slide them off your legs giggling at the slight gymnastics you have to perform in order to get them off. Once they are off you drop back onto his lap and he runs his hands up your back pulling you tight up against him. His mouth finds yours again as his slips his hand between your thighs and slides a finger inside of you.

"I knew you would be perfect, I fuckin knew it" He groans as he adds a second finger pumping in and out of you slowly. he hooks his finger finding that spot inside of you that sends you to ecstasy. You close your eyes and roll your head back moving your hips rhythmically against his hand.

"oh god, oh god!" You squeal as he brings you over the edge, you clenching around his fingers. He immediately unfastens his jeans sliding them down to his thighs and pulling you over him.

"is this ok?" He asks gripping your hips tightly

You nod and he pushes your hips down sliding himself into you slowly. he makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a growl as you sink down onto him.

"This ain't gonna last long darlin" he grunts as he thrusts up into you. He bites down on your shoulder as he pulls you down over him over and over thrusting up into you at the same time. He rubs your pearl with his thumb as he quickens his pace.

Jaw slack and eyes like dinnerplates he watches as you come done a second time and groans

"Where? Where?" He whines "Fuck"

"I'm on birth control it's fine" You bite his bottom lip "Go ahead"

"Fuck! Ok Ok Fuck" He slams your hips down onto him three more times before his body tenses and squeezes your hips so tight you think your bones may snap.

you rest your forehead on his shoulder as the both of you regulate your breathing.

"Thank god it's fucking pouring" You giggle.

"Yeah, that was a bit mental wasn't it?" he laughs while breathing heavily and running his fingers through your hair.

You flop back over to the passengers seat and start pulling your trousers back on.

"See you at the coffee shop tomorrow?" you ask as you clasp the button.

"Always" he smiles back at you.

"Good, cuz i think I may need another ride..... " you giggle

"Really? you live so close" He teases back

"Who said I wanted to go home?" you wink at him as you hope out of the car. "See you tomorrow"

You shut the door and head inside with a huge grin on your face.

"Ok ... NOW everything is perfect"

To be added to taglist click here

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Pandora’s Melody” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| It’s your first Christmas Benefit since working for Vought and you’re starting to chafe a little at all the rules. Least the music’s finally getting good tho.

| SFW, office rules, workplace discrimination(?), Vought International’s dress code policy & casual disregard of The Crown Act

| Pic Source: The Boys (s1)

| 800+ words

“Don’t fuck this up,” Ashley had said, sweaty handkerchief that was far too drenched to mop anything else up clenched tightly inside her fist, and a closed lip smile straining her spotty red painted lips.

And for your part you’d smiled back, nodded your head like a heavily - and repeatedly - hit bobble head; eager to keep your position and even more desperate not to be seen as the unfriendly black girl lest you lose your job.

To your credit it’s not until far later in the evening when everybody’s inhabitions are totally fucked, the camera crews and reporters are gone, and even most of The Seven have left to do things far less beneath them than attending a company mixer that you loosen the hold your heart’s keeping on Ashley’s words just…a bit.

Suddenly the music gets a little less mind numbingly fucking boring too and your mood gets a little less sullen, and even with your mandatory three inch heels shackled to your feet you finally begin to feel the music. So bobbing along, and finally downing the singular glass you’d been nursing the whole evening, you find yourself searching out whoever’s creating the new and far more engaging melody.

Your heart almost stops when you realize it’s Black Noir at the piano, gloved fingers flying over the keys, quite literally the only hero still bothering to attend this thing.

When a quick glance up shows that even Mr. Edgar’s no longer in attendance - though never unseeing you’re sure - you start talking mostly out of shock. You’ve never really been this close to any of the hero’s before now.

“Good - ah - good choice,” you murmur, “Hapless is really just such a downer for a Christmas Benefit.”

Muscles tense and breath short, fingers clasped together behind your back like a vice, you wait a beat for his reaction.

When all he does is kind of glance your way though you nearly breath out a sigh right in front of him before catching yourself, and you feel so free that for a second you want to take your hair down from its “more professional” slicked back bun so you can really feel the music through you.

Instead you untuck your dress shirt to quell the urge. Fuck, your pantssuit was starting to feel increasingly more suffocating the longer you worked here. At this point you felt like you’d end up buried in the damn thing then forced to partially exist as a pantsuit wearing ghost for the rest of your forever unrest for good measure—

—annnd think positive thoughts. The music is good, you want to sway. You settle for keeping up your subtle head bop and adding a few soundless taps against your thigh to the mix.

After he doesn’t slice you in half - or some other such gruesome death dealing action - you take another few moments to identify the song Noir himself has begun playing.

It’s lovely, and as much as you want to close your eyes to visualize the song’s name a bit better in your mind you opt not to so you can continue watching the way that Noir plays.

It’s more graceful than you’d expect (but considering the way you’d seen him train that was a little foolish of you). The silent hero’s fingers move across the keys like a true virtuoso, hands gliding from note to note with hardly a thought but still exactly right. In the entire time that it takes you to place the song he doesn’t miss a single beat and doesn’t lose his tempo; not a thing about how he plays looks or even sounds off.

Normally you’d be remiss to label anything perfect, but if there were ever an exception…

…Noir’s playing was perfect.

A small smile stretches your plush lips.

Delightfully so.

“The Minute Waltz,” you say after finally placing the song, only shuffling in place a little.

Which is how in the next minute you end up seated next to him after his head had snapped to you - and honestly you’d half figured he’d stopped minding you by that point so you’d been plenty surprised to find out otherwise.

Black Noir had stared you into submission with exactly one incline of his head to convey his invitation in any clear manner until, with held breath and a prayer, you’d sat down beside him where he’d made room on the piano bench.

Then it’s touch and go as - with your heart firmly in your throat and hoping to god you don’t screw anything up - Noir takes to eventually wanting you as more than just a captive audience. He plays a few simple chords, pauses, then looks over to you until after not too long you begin copying him.

By the end of the function your heart’s settled and you can slowly, but steadily, get through the entirety of Gymnopedie No.1 - with Noir pushing the pedal of course.

He even gives you a little silent round of applause once you’ve played through it on your own.

Like that, Noir at your side and surrounded by all the drunk limp dicks you work with tripping and throwing up over themselves, is the first time you feel like a real part of Vought.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Um, I just wrote this tonight at random and with a cold so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. Also, it’s Christmas and I figured I had a themed fic in me tonight so here you go and Happy Holidays (I guess)!

Don’t question how the Reader-Insert knows the names of these songs, it doesn’t matter.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[literaila]

winter blues 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"why are you here?"

"why are you ignoring my calls?"

warnings: seasonal depression (unmentioned but that’s what it is), comfort, avoidance, fluff, peter is nice (mostly) 

a/n: this is so random and so terrible but my computer doesn’t deserve to have this banished away. happy winter!!!! 

*

if you're in a mood--which you're not--then it is perfectly rational. 

and if you've been hanging up the phone, slamming doors, and throwing random objects around your room for the past couple of days--all done as some sort of ritual, of course, a method of which to maintain control--then it's fine. 

your room is a mess and there are more worthwhile, productive things to be done. 

which is probably why you aren't speaking to anyone. 

or, rather, effectively ignoring anyone who even attempts to get a word out toward you. 

when someone knocks on the door you duck under the covers, sure that your presence can't be detected with an extra layer of cotton protecting your body heat. 

when someone texts you, you simply pretend that your phone has died--despite the fifty apps you've got open and the lonely google tab, awaiting curiosity that escaped you weeks ago. 

when you go outside it's with your eyes tilted toward the ground, staring at cement like it's a newfound fascination. 

so, maybe you've fallen victim to the winter blues. maybe you've been consistently listening to one playlist entitled "don't listen to this, you loser," and not really listening at all. 

maybe you've been avoiding this actualization--being that you'd prefer to live in your own disgust rather than face it, thank you very much. 

and maybe, as you consider these missteps, you've got your face smothered into a pillow. 

you do not consider how long it might take you to fall asleep. 

*

there's a knock on your door. 

it is sullen and soft and all too loud for this time of day. four in the afternoon is made for napping, and you have made yourself into someone who no longer answers the door. 

you roll over on the couch, waiting for evading footsteps. 

you are met with only kind silence. 

and then a voice: 

"i know you're in there," he says. "and i know that you can hear me." 

peter knows nothing. 

you have made a point of that. 

you throw your head back, imitating a groan, and wonder how many minutes you'll have to sit through this before he gives up. 

you ridicule yourself as soon as the thought comes; when has peter ever given up on anything? 

"i'm not leaving," he echoes. "i'll knock on mrs. garrison's door and ask for a folding chair." 

you have been avoiding him for the past week. you have been thinking that if he sees you--even just once--he’ll know that something is wrong. that he’ll ask and you’ll have to tell. that he’ll bring up the one thing you’re trying to avoid. 

two things, you guess. 

and because you are sure that peter will make good on his threat, and also because you feel a pin-prick of guilt, you get up off of the couch. you curse your raggedy bones. 

try and recall when you last stood and how long you'll be able to stay standing. 

you go to the door, opening it with a glare. 

"peter," you say, dryly. your voice is rotted with its misuse. 

he simply smiles. "can i come in?" 

"why are you here?" 

"why are you ignoring my calls?" peter challenges, ducking under your arm to walk into your apartment without invitation. 

you try not to wince at everything he might stumble upon. 

like candy wrappers and water bottles and papers that you've crumbled until they're illegible, and others that you've folded into paper airplanes. 

socks and sweaters you've thrown around. a blanket that has served as both a preserver of heat and a tissue. 

dishes everywhere because, coincidently, you've recently forgotten how to use your dishwasher. 

"woah," peter blows out a breath. he turns back to you with raised eyebrows, smile somewhat fallen. 

you frown even deeper and cross your arms. "i'm not ignoring your calls. my phone died." 

peter stares at you. he leans over to grab your phone off of the couch--you'd forgotten it was there--and presses the power button. 

you both watch as it comes to life. it scolds you with notifications. 

"my ringer is off." 

peter just sighs and tosses it back in its forever place. "what's going on?" he asks, softer now, like his knock. 

you stare at his face and wonder again why he's here. why you even bothered answering the door. 

and then his brown lulls you into the earth, where you have no inhibitors. 

you rub a hand over your eyes. "it's just been a long week," you say because at least it's not a lie. 

"did something happen?" 

you shake your head. 

"are you feeling alright?" 

you nod. 

when you look up peter is closer. he is offering you something kind with his face. 

you want to wipe it off and slam the door in his face. 

"hey," he says, whispering to only you. "i missed you. i wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"well, thanks for checking in," you reply, grabbing his arm so you can pull him toward the door. 

peter laughs. "not so fast." he stops both of you with a foot on the floor. 

you scowl at him. 

"it's been a week since i've seen you," peter chides, like you're a child who's forgotten. "i'd like to have an actual conversation." 

you shake his hand off of you. "we're having a conversation." 

"you haven't even asked me about my week." 

you sigh. "okay." you pause for a moment, waiting for him to break. "how was your week, peter?" 

"long," he answers, quickly. "thanks for asking." 

you let a chuckle fall from dry lips. 

he takes another step closer. 

you're used to peter's hands on you--because they almost always are, especially when it's this cold outside and he likes to use you as an excuse--but it feels like more than just touching now. 

when he tilts your chin up with his hands, observing your eyes, you swear that he's actually probing you. 

that if he's the scientist, you are the lab rat being subdued to whatever experiment he's working on. 

"you look tired," he whispers, fingers tracing over sinkhole under eyes. 

"i am." 

peter bites his lip, eyes searching. "are you having trouble sleeping?" 

you can barely shake your head in his hands, but you attempt to anyway. 

peter swallows. "are you sick?" 

"no, peter. i'm okay."

he tilts his head. "you're tired. when was the last time you ate?" he asks. "or took a shower?" 

"i ate this morning." 

peter stares at you. he pokes your side with his iris'. 

"...i think." 

"baby," peter throws his head back. he plays it off as teasing, but you know that he's serious. "you can't just--" 

"i've been sleeping all day," you excuse. "i was gonna eat right before you came over." 

peter gives you another blank stare. 

you sigh at him, refusing to lie any further. 

at least he's fun to look at, you think. at least you're not completely irritated with him. 

"can i make you something instead?" peter asks, playing along. "you can go lay down and i'll bring it to you." 

your brows furrow. "you didn't come over to take care of me." 

"i did, actually. and to make sure that aliens hadn't gotten to you." 

"it's okay. you should tell me about your week," you attempt to put on a smile. "i'll listen real hard." 

"i will," peter promises. "but i want to make sure that you're okay first. you look..." peter shrugs. 

"terrible?" 

he laughs, just a little. brushes some hair from your eyes. "beautiful, obviously. just sad." 

your eyes close involuntarily. something in your chest comes back to life, unwanted and unwarranted. 

you should be able to handle peter saying nice things without wanting to cry. 

and you should be answering your phone and the door without any sort of hesitation. 

peter shakes his head like he can tell what you're thinking. "don't think so hard," he says. "what do you have in the fridge?" 

he gives you another smile. one that is so desperate and pleasing that you almost flinch. 

peter has molded under your darkened fingertips. 

he is shifting, just for you. and despite whatever denial you might feel, you're aware that you've been keeping him at a distance to avoid just that. 

he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen. he knows his way around. "let's go look. but you have to have more than a carton of ice cream because last time--" 

"peter," you whisper, pulling his hand back. 

he pauses. looks down at you. "hmm?" 

"will you--" you swallow. let the guilt fill your mouth. "will you--can you hug me? for just a little bit? i don't, um, i don't--" 

peter is quick to stop you. 

to wrap his strong arms around your back, cradling your head right against his shoulder. he lets you nuzzle into his neck, lets you grab onto his shoulders, and play with the hair on the base of his neck. 

he wraps you in comfort and warmth. 

like a present, he's wrapped you with care. he tells you that you can open it and look whenever you're ready. he whispers little things in your ear, about the things you've missed. 

he's gifted you this much. 

he loves you, he promises. 

and if you'll open the door for anyone, it's peter. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom

[jinwoowoo]

Ballgame Date

Male reader x Kep1er Chaehyun smut

Length: 4481 words

Tags: Voyeurism, blowjob

Chaehyun hops on her feet as she walks with you inside the baseball stadium, happy that you took her invitation to a ball game date. Though you are not a fan of any sports and prefer playing video games instead, seeing your girlfriend happy after winning some preseason pass to watch her favorite baseball team gives you a little fluttery feeling in your chest.

"Why is the stadium so empty? Shouldn't it be at least half filled?" You asked after noticing the lack of people to watch the game, far from what you expected when you watch major leagues with her during your home dates.

"Hm? This is normal, YN. People don't usually watch preseason games unless they are a reporter or someone from the league management. Teams that fight before the regular season are just practicing to see their opponent's current strength and test out their own." Chaehyun explained sternly, raising a finger as if she were your mother scolding you for something you did wrong.

Raising your hands in defeat, Chaehyun smiled softly and nudged your chest with her elbow before taking you to one of the thousand empty seats. She personally picked the seat near the dugout and bullpen of her favorite team so she can watch them closely and see who will be on the lineup this season.

After minutes of waiting, the players slowly filled up their benches and start warming up on the sides. Chaehyun stood up and starts calling out her favorite team, cheering the team captain and ace pitcher particularly. The two looked at her and waved their hands, smiling at her and bowed slightly to acknowledge Chaehyun's presence.

You would be lying if you didn't feel a sudden pain in your chest when you saw Chaehyun smiling from ear to ear after she got recognized by her idol players. You haven't seen her that happy much lately, especially when you two are tired from work and didn't have much time to bond with each other. That's why you let her bring you to a ball date to make up for the lost time.

Sensing the sadness by her side, Chaehyun took a glance at you. With face dropping low, hands holding the armrest and eyes staring to the ground, Chaehyun knows that you are being jealous of her favorite players right now. She returned to her seat and leaned towards your stomach, head tilting to face you and block your sight.

"Why are you frowning, YN? You don't wanna watch baseball? We can go home if you feel uncomfortable." Chaehyun asked softly while holding your cheek with her closed fingers, hands forming like a paw and massaging your cheekbones in circular motion.

"It's nothing, Chaehyun. I wish I'm just as cool as those baseball players." You replied, still a bit sullen.

"But you are the coolest person for me, YN. You are always there when I need you. Spoiling all my whining and pampering me. Please don't be sad" Chaehyun smiled and pecked your lips, rubbing her nose to yours right after.

Your lips curved into a smile because of Chaehyun's cuteness and sweet words that tickled your heart. You patted her head and brushed her hair while putting her back in her seat, holding her hand and intertwining your fingers while Chaehyun leaned her head on your shoulder. Everything seems fine and you felt happy again, but it didn't take long because of what happened next.

Chaehyun's happy mood turned sour when the opponent of her favorite team started dominating. The ace pitcher stood on the mount and shut down the batters of the opposing team during the first inning, gaining them a huge lead with 3 points. However, during the 2nd inning, the coach of her favorite team called for a timeout and switched their pitcher with their new member, causing the team to lose its advantage and got dominated.

"The new pitcher is dog shit! Boooo!!" Chaehyun chanted along with some fans you can count on your fingers.

Getting a bit embarrassed by your girlfriend's action, you pulled Chaehyun back to her seat and covered her mouth, hushing her. "Stop it, Chaehyun. The coach must have a reason to switch players. Who knows? Maybe he wants the new pitcher to taste the pressure of a real match so he could expect what to face during the regular season."

"That is still not an excuse, YN. His pitches are too weak and predictable. They don't even hit the center of the catcher's gloves. I thought he was playing for a local high school division." Chaehyun explained angrily, crossing her arms and puffing out some air to blow off some steam.

Having zero knowledge about baseball, you just nodded at Chaehyun's explanation and pulled her towards you, letting her lean on your chest while you hug her arms and lightly pat her shoulder. You are trying your best to keep Chaehyun calm, but the new pitcher is still hitting your girlfriend's nerves especially when she keeps hearing the bats making contact with the pitches he made.

In the end, the fifth inning ended with 0-3 standing during the first inning down to 9-4 in favor of the opponent team- a much more disappointing result than you expected. Chaehyun is in pure dismay seeing her favorite team getting punished by their opponent. You don't want to see her being sad like this, so you offered her to buy some snacks during the intermission before the game resumes.

Dispirited, Chaehyun only nodded and stood up, walking out of the stands towards the back of the stadium where the snack bars could be found. She looked like a kid holding the sleeve of your jersey shirt after losing her favorite stuffed toy, head hung low and dragging her feet on each step. After wandering around, you finally found a snack bar that is open during the game.

"What do you want to eat, Chaehyun? They got turkey leg and sandwiches. Do you want some beer? Maybe not…" You asked as you read the portion of the menu hung on the wall.

"I want hotdogs on a bun, babe. A lot of it. Also extra large cola and two big turkey sandwiches." She replied softly.

Nodding, you ordered six hotdogs on a bun, two large turkey sandwiches, and two extra large cokes for Chaehyun while you got yourself a corndog and pineapple juice. You looked at your girlfriend and saw her lips slowly forming a smile after smelling the food being cooked. She opened her arms and hugged you tight, looking at you with a pout on her lips.

"Thank you, YN. I feel extra hungry because of that newbie pitcher." Chaehyun mumbled.

"It's fine, Chaehyun. We are still on a date so let's enjoy the rest of the game. Just promise me not to shout something bad at the players, okay?" You said and pecked Chaehyun's lips, earning you a soft nod from her.

Good thing the staff prepared your snacks before the game resumed. Since you ordered a lot, they let you borrow a tray to carry all the food in exchange that you bringing them back after the match. You went back to the stands where you two were sitting before but Chaehyun suddenly hugged your arm tight, stopping you in your tracks.

"Let's seat somewhere else, YN. I don't want to watch this game this close when they are losing." Chaehyun whispered which made you look around.

"Are you sure? Is it okay if we go seat somewhere else far?" You asked and Chaehyun just nodded.

"The upper decks are empty. I don't think they would mind if we take a seat or two."

Nodding at her request, you led Chaehyun to the far right of the stadium where she can still watch the game and have proper shade from the sun. As soon as you two sat down, you placed the tray of food on the empty seat beside Chaehyun. She immediately took a big sip of the extra-large cola, quenching her thirst after shouting a few minutes ago.

As soon as the 6th inning came, you don't know what to watch anymore. While the match piqued your interest as Chaehyun's team pours their dedication to catch up for the points they gave away during the previous innings, your girlfriend beside you is having an adorable making.

Chaehyun's cheeks are puffing with the food you ordered, taking bites of the turkey sandwich and hotdogs alternately. She squeals every time a new flavor hits her taste buds, swallowing the chewed food right after and cleansing her palate with the cola before eating on a cycle. You didn't even get a chance to taste the corndog you ordered since Chaehyun ate it too. All you can do is just rubbed Chaehyun's back, helping her so she won't choke on her food.

It is only the 7th lower inning of the game and Chaehyun already finished eating the rest of the food. She took a huge sip of the second extra-large cola, burping cutely while patting her filled stomach. Even if you are hungry as well, seeing Chaehyun smiling with a face messed with ketchup and mustard makes you feel full already. You took some pieces of tissue to wipe her lips, still taking care of your childish girlfriend.

"YN, I still want some hotdogs," Chaehyun said as you wipe plump cheeks.

"Okay, babe. Just stay here and behave, okay? I will buy more food for us."' You said and stood out of your seat, only to be dragged back down by Chaehyun.

"Not that, YN. I want your hotdog"

"W-what?"

The sound of the bat hitting the baseball acted like a bell when you realized what Chaehyun wants. Smirking menacingly, Chaehyun stood up and grabbed your thighs, pulling them until your ass is on the edge of the seat before straddling your lap. The last thing you saw was the batter of the team reaching the first base before Chaehyun completely blocked your vision, leaning forward to kiss you.

Your mind went into a panic state thinking that people might see you and Chaehyun making out in public. You want to grab her shoulders and push her away, tell her to make a room for you two but the way she grabs your Jersey's collar to pull and kiss turns you submissive.

Hungry for more, Chaehyun won't just settle for sloppy wet kisses. She wants to taste you, to feel the passionate love flow between the two of you. From holding your Jersey's collar, Chaehyun slid her hand down and lifted your shirt, caressing your abs while sticking her finger on your navel.

The warmth of Chaehyun's palm on your stomach subconsciously made you moan, giving Chaehyun the opportunity to push her tongue inside your mouth. You almost choked out when Chaehyun's frenzied tongue licks the insides of your oral cavern. Trying to calm her down, even just for a little, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked it hard, swallowing her saliva and pinning her tongue on your palate.

"Babe… Slow down…" You moaned between the kisses but Chaehyun is unstoppable right now, eager to send you to the second base.

Raising her hips and slamming them back down, Chaehyun pressed her crotch on your boner intently, showing you how much she needs you. You groaned between the kisses as she keeps grinding on you, and you don't care anymore if people are watching you and Chaehyun right now.

Your right arm hooks at the back of Chaehyun's waist, pulling her closer to your body and assisting her in grinding on your lap. Your other hand caresses Chaehyun's smooth tummy, lifting her clothes a little to fondle her enormous tits.

Chaehyun moaned sexily when she felt your hand squeezing her boobs. Your fingers press her soft fatty flesh delicately, palm pressing down on her nipples and kneading her doughy teats. If there's something you wish to hold forever in your life, that would be your girlfriend's sensitive breasts.

Moans calling out each other's names can be heard coming from the two of you. Chaehyun is basically fucking you right now, just still on full clothes. It already came to the point that you want to pin Chaehyun down on the floor and fuck her, not giving a shit about what people might say. Already had enough, you stopped groping Chaehyun's tits and held the waist of her pants, putting your thumbs on the garter and about to pull them down only if Chaehyun didn't stop you.

"No YN… I said I want to eat your hotdog…" Chaehyun panted as she pulled away from the kiss.

She removed her hand from your shirt and unbuttoned your pants, unzipping the zipper right after. Holding the waist of your pants and boxer, Chaehyun then kneeled in front of you and tugged them down to your ankles.

Your hard and erect cock stood proudly, veins popping out with glans glistening with precum. She immediately grabbed and stroked you, pumping the shaft fast and spitting on it.

"YN… Try to be quiet, okay? I don't want to get banned from entering the stadium because of you…" Chaehyun whispered, giving you a little warning to remember.

Spreading your legs apart and scooting close between your thighs, Chaehyun's face is just two inches away from your dick, the same distance as the current runner on the home plate before he was called out. Chaehyun sticks her tongue out, wet tip tracing the veins on your shaft while keeping eye contact with you.

"Chaehyun… Oh god…" You moaned, feeling Chaehyun's tongue finally reach the tip, flicking the oozing slit of your glans and slurping the released precum.

Loving how your body shuddered on the jolt of feeling she gave and your reaction, Chaehyun released your cock from her hand for a moment to tie her hair, something you watch a lot of times and give you a major turn-on every single time. Now that her long hair is out of the way, Chaehyun leaned back to your cock.

"My cute boyfriend YN~ thank you for always spoiling me. Now let me spoil you this time~"

You swear you almost came when Chaehyun laid your cock into her palm and rubbed her cheeks all over it. Her cuteness matched with her soft cheeks feels so illegal yet so good, especially when your cock is grinding all over her beautiful face.

After rubbing your dick all over her face and worshipping it, Chaehyun gives your cock some wet kisses, engulfing the shaft on her lips and sucking to give it hickeys. She grabbed your cock by the head and pushed it close to your abs, leaning down further to give your balls some sucking too.

Already wet and licked on all sides, Chaehyun decided to take your pleasure to the next base and hit the third. Grabbing your dick from the base and giving you short shallow strokes, she parted her soft lips to take your glans inside her mouth. One strong sip from Chaehyun already sent you to the bliss of arousal. A small amount of precum was forced to be sucked out of your tip, making Chaehyun swallow thickly.

"Babe… Take it slow. You are gonna make me cum so fast" you panted, feeling the force of Chaehyun's suction force you to squirt more precum.

Chaehyun giggled and sent vibrations to your cock, giving you exotic pleasure. Smiling, she paced down her blowjob since she wants to suck your dick longer and hold your orgasm as much as possible. She already forgot the game as she found something more fun to do. Switching from deep head bobbing and a combination of jerking off and sucking the head, Chaehyun tries a variety of blowjobs and sees which one you like the most. She even took her phone out of her pocket and put it on the camera, taking a selfie of her sucking your dick with a victory peace sign near her eye.

Though you enjoy the pleasure Chaehyun's mouth gives, you can't just idle and have to make her feel good as well. Taking the phone out of Chaehyun's hand, you switched the camera into a video recording one and take a video of your girlfriend sucking your dick. Your other hand holds her cheek and caresses its softness to your palm, giving her some nice soft slaps that make her wince a bit for the video.

"Pull your shirt up, Chaehyun. I want to feel your boobs in my hand." You demanded which Chaehyun complied.

Lifting her jersey shirt up, Chaehyun's boobs which were as white as steamed buns made you drool inside your mouth, creating a deep cleavage when her sports bra can't contain its fullness. Leaving her cheek to touch her boobs, Chaehyun moaned instantly when you cupped her udders and squeezed them firmly.

Satisfied with her expression, you leaned down a little to grab Chaehyun's sports bra and pulled it up, freeing her jiggling boobs from its tight confinement. Zooming the camera a little, you focused on capturing Chaehyun's soft boobs on your palm. Your thumb and index finger hold her erect nipple, twisting and tugging it before you release and watch Chaehyun's boob bounce back due to its elasticity.

The pinching, tugging, and rough groping on Chaehyun's boobs made her tear up in both pain and pleasure. Her hands gripped hard on your thighs, holding for her dear life and trying not to moan out loud. Seeing the tears forming in her eyes, you stopped groping Chaehyun's boobs for a moment to wipe them off, cupping her cheek again and rubbing your thumb on her skin after.

"Do you like this Chaehyun? Sucking off your boyfriend's dick because you hate watching your favorite team lose its match?" You asked in a condescending tone, yet Chaehyun only nod fast to agree. "Such a slut… I bet you didn't really bring me here to watch the game. You just want to suck my dick in public and show everyone how such a cockslut you are."

Chaehyun nodded once more, loving how your giving and loving demeanor flipped and treated her like a slut. Groping her boobs for one last time, Chaehyun winced and shuddered as you let go of her tit to hold the back of her head. Bucking your hips forward, you pushed Chaehyun down and forced her to take your dick down to her throat.

Chaehyun's loud gagging served as music to your ears as she struggled to take adjust to your girth. Yet instead of pushing her hips away to breathe, she took the challenge and kept still like the good girl she is even if her airway is blocked. Her white skin turned pink due to the lack of oxygen. Her grip on your thighs is weakening, giving you the sign to finally let go of her head.

As soon as you let go of her head, Chaehyun tilted her head back and breathed deeply, gasping for air to recover the oxygen she lost. Your cock is covered with Chaehyun's mucus and spit, making a slimy silk strand of mixed fluids connect your dick and her face. After regaining her energy, she goes back to lapping her tongue on your messy dick, licking it like a dog enjoying her favorite bone. If that scene alone doesn't lead you near your orgasm, I don't know what will make you cum anymore.

"I'm close, Chaehyun… Do you want me to cum on your face? Or should I just feed you my cum instead? Are you even a good slut to receive my cum?" You asked as you feel your ground tightening, balls are done loading up and waiting for a release.

Chaehyun freed your cock out of her hungry mouth again, her chin and cheeks are messy with her own saliva. "Please give me a facial, YN. I want to feel your thick cum on my skin."

Different from what she wanted to do in the first place, you nodded and took her hand from your thigh and let her jerk you off. Reaching your limit, you grabbed the back of Chaehyun's hair and tugged it downward, forcing her to tilt her head back to display her cute beautiful face as your target.

"I'm close, Chaehyun! Shit, you always feel good!~" you groaned as you felt your cum already at the tip of your dick.

Hearing your words, Chaehyun sped up her hand until you reached your orgasm and blasted your load on her face. Your first load shot like a bullet and hit Chaehyun right at the center of her nose, splashing outward to her nose bridge and lips. The second and third load, thicker and much larger in volume thanks to the weeks you didn't have sex with Chaehyun, shoots out like a web string and dragged from her chin up to her forehead, covering most of Chaehyun's face. The rest of your load jetted out on her soft cheeks, masking her face entirely with nothing dropping off due to how thick your semen is.

"Holy shit Chaehyun… You look so gorgeous with my cum all over your face…" You panted as you flop down to your seat.

With Chaehyun's hair still on your hand, you brought it forward and wrapped it around your cock, using her smooth silky locks to wipe your dick clean and release what was left on your urethra. You then pressed the stop button on Chaehyun's phone to stop recording, saving it so she can watch them later.

Chaehyun stick her tongue out and licked her lips, savoring the taste of your creamy cum before speaking. "YN, pass me some napkins, please. Your jizz feels warm on my skin, but they are sticky and messy."

While laughing at your girlfriend who's trying to find the tray blindly, you helped her out and placed some napkin on her hand. She wiped her eyelids clean first to regain her sight, cleaning her cheeks and forehead right after. After cleaning the mess, Chaehyun looked at the used wet napkins with your cum on them.

"Do you want to see something cool?" Chaehyun asked which made you tilt your head in confusion. She suddenly takes all the cum-soaked napkins and put them in her mouth, chewing them like it is pieces of gum.

"Yah! What are you doing, Chaehyun? Those are dirty!" You scolded Chaehyun but she only smiled back.

A weird erotic feeling hits you when you saw her chewing them as if they were a delicacy, you even hear the sloshing sound of your cum in her mouth as she passes the fluid from one cheek to another. Acting like a dog owner who got his pet put something bad in its mouth, you tried to squeeze Chaehyun's cheeks and take the tissue out of her mouth, but it only resulted in some of the white translucent fluids seeping at the edge of her lips.

After acting like a naughty kid, Chaehyun made a loud swallowing sound as she ate your cum and the napkins, opening her mouth right after to show you that she ate it all.

"Hihi~ thanks for the hotdog treat, YN." Chaehyun giggled as she put her clothes back in order. She then realized that the game hasn't ended yet and looked at the scoreboard. "What happened to the game already?"

Rubbing your temples as the headache caused by your naughty Chaehyun kicks in, you pulled your pants and boxers back up, tucking them clean to remove the evidence of a blowjob. You grabbed Chaehyun by the waist and let her sit on your lap, back facing you so you can lean your chin on her shoulder and grab her tits.

"Omo! They managed to catch up! Fighting, team captain!" Chaehyun screamed as she cheer for the team captain.

The game is almost a cliche of every baseball drama. It is the final lower inning of the game, bases are loaded with two outs already, putting the last hope on the team captain of Chaehyun's favorite team.

As the pitcher draws his hand and finished his form, he threw an amazing fastball that flew toward the home plate. The team captain braced his hips, swinging the bat in full might and sent the ball flying up towards the left field.

The loud clashing sound made everyone silent. Chaehyun followed the ball with her sight, hands clasped tight while praying for the ball to fly outside the field. Sadly, it was a few feet away from the stands and the left fielder jumped high to catch the ball, resulting in a flyout.

"Fuck! That could have been a grand slam if the ball flew further." Chaehyun groaned as she kick the empty seat in front of her, frustrated.

"It's fine, Chaehyun. Your team fought well even if it is just a practice match." You said as you pulled her up to her feet and grabbed the tray you had to return.

"Really? I was determined to let you hit a home run if they got a grand slam." She grinned but you shrugged her words off as if you don't what she was saying.

Chaehyun wrapped her arm around yours and went out of the stadium, returning the tray you borrowed to carry all of the food you ordered. Still sulking and ranting, Chaehyun keeps murmuring how close the game was, repeating what she was saying as if she was chanting a curse.

"Aigoo, my Chaehyunie. I'm pretty sure they will practice hard to win their next match. Don't worry, I will buy the season pass for the upcoming season so we can watch them every time they have a game."

"Really? Yay! Thank you, YN~ I will get you to hit the fifth base when we got home." Chaehyun chuckled as she lets go of your hand, heading out first toward the parking lot.

"Eh? But there are only four plates on the field. Right miss?" Still baffled, you asked the staff of the snack stall.

The girl only giggled and leaned closer. "Fifth base means she's letting you fuck her ass, mister."

"W-what?!" You gasped in disbelief. Just then, you remembered what Chaehyun said a while ago. "What about homerun? Does it mean anything?"

"Let me think… I think it means letting you have sex with her. Good luck, mister. It looks like your girlfriend wants something to happen tonight."

Laughing at you, the girl brought the tray back to the kitchen and left you baffled. You quickly looked around and saw Chaehyun standing at the exit, winking. This cutie, you thought. Now that you know what Chaehyun wants, you ran as fast as you could chase her. Chaehyun sees you running towards her and quickly turned around the corner, still acting like a kid.