#I would move this all out of tags but that would require quite a bit of editing because my tags don't all flow smoothly together

[strange-creature-222]

OUUGHHH THIS IS MAKING ME THINK SO MANY THINGS OH MY GOD/POS

@lilywithcatears you should read this pls pls pls

I found myself thinking of Jekyll today and wondering if it causes him physical pain to have to fake a smile. To what extent is Henry Jekyll, pleasant doctor and sophisticated upperclass gentleman a painful mask he has to wear and does the discomfort ever feel physical?

I was at the local aquarium today (this is the perfect time of year to go because it's open but there are no tourists so it's never crowded and admission is cheap) hanging out and doodling on one of the benches while I watched the fish. I had on headphones to listen to an audio book and to provide a buffer between myself and anyone who might try to talk to me and I had been looking forward to relaxing for a couple of hours when a family walked up and the father waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. The minute they started asking me questions about what I was drawing I was filled with what I can only describe as intense dismay.

Obviously the family being present isn't in of itself an issue, it's a public aquarium, it's aimed at families and parts of the aquarium are geared specifically at children, but the family noticed me drawing and stopped to talk to me.

I reiterate that this was not something they did wrong, they were just being friendly, but I was really not prepared to have a conversation and I found the whole ordeal to be...well an ordeal. They were interested in what I was drawing (a sketch of Henry Jekyll because he's been on my mind off and on) and just the thought of having to explain who this character was, hoping they got it, and having to potentially explain why I was drawing him felt overwhelming.

And it was, they did not know who Henry Jekyll was, they were vaguely aware of Jekyll and Hyde but weren't the type of people to read classic literature and had never heard of the musical or actually seen for themselves any movies featuring the character. The mom commented that he looks like "a Disney villain from back in the 90s" which...fair assessment, I can't pretend I don't see why she would have thought that. The older kid was probably the most interested and wanted to see more of my drawings which made me really uncomfortable but I let him look through my sketchbook anyway because his parents kept saying he was interested in drawing and he loves art and I felt too anxious to say no.

I made small talk with the parents for a while, all the usual, "what's your name, where you from, what's your job?" (I hate those questions, they are usually the least interesting things about any people, myself included) and I wondered if this is what Henry does on a regular day. Has ordinary conversations with reasonably nice people and feel completely like a fish out of water the whole time. I felt pretty terrible about it too, I didn't have any hard feelings or resentment but the whole time I was thinking "Stop touching my things, go away, please fucking leave so I can get back to my audio book and my drawing. I just wanted to sit with the fish for a few hours because it's supposed to be quiet here this time of year."

No one ever seems to catch on that physically talking to people is an effort for me. I've gone my whole life and no one has ever noticed that I'm anxious or uncomfortable in situations where I have to speak out loud because I've gotten good at faking small talk and I know how to make my voice sound pleasant.

It's strange because I express myself easily enough in writing and I like messaging with people over text but the minute I have to be verbal with people I don't know I feel like I'm putting on an immense effort. I have to consciously choose a tone, figure out what words I want to say, be ready with an explanation in case I'm asked questions and I have to do all of it in real time on the spot. It feels like improve, like I'm constantly doing an improve routine and I know most people would say "Just be yourself!" But myself doesn't want to be doing this at all. Myself wants to be drawing and looking at fish. Even as a child I was never very social, I liked to doodle or daydream or build with my lego sets. I got reprimanded a lot for being too quiet. So I made myself more talkative and learned how to hold conversations. I learned to blend in but it's so tiring at times and I can swear when it's at its worst it feels almost physical. The discomfort becomes a suffocating "texture" on my skin and in my brain and I have to keep pretending like I don't notice it because every time I try to articulate how I feel people don't understand it. It's just not a thing they experience.

So I just keep "acting normal," and wonder if there's something wrong with me, like I'm operating on a different frequency from the people around me and I'm the only one on that frequency so other people don't even know it exists. It's...incredibly isolating at times. Even my partner doesn't seem to hear the world as loud as I do or experience the "texture" it's just a strange THING that I'm stuck with by myself. I wonder if it was the same for Henry Jekyll? Except instead being of too quiet he was too loud, too boisterous, threw tantrums, didn't know when to stop rambling about anatomy and weird gross medical facts. So he learned how to cover it and move through life pretending to be interested in everyone else but keenly aware they could never share his interests because his favorite subjects were too grisly and if he started talking about diseases he'd put everyone off. I head-canon Jekyll loves what he does, but he doesn't love it for reasons a doctor should, he doesn't care that much about healing the sick, he cares about conquering illnesses, he likes to learn about symptoms, he enjoys the disgusting viscera of his work. But he can't let on that this is what he enjoys about his work because that's not noble or heroic, it's something most people would find creepy of him. So he buries it and pretends he cares about curing the sick. He pretends he enjoys talking to people who don't know anything about who he is or what he does but they think they do because they are aware of doctors and understand that medicine exists. All the time he loathes it, it exhausts him and he can't even indulge in activities he enjoys to blow of steam because he enjoys things like brawling, doing drugs, and fucking. All things a man of his status shouldn't be seen doing. There's an image people associate with Henry Jekyll and it's an image he can't afford to tarnish...

but it's not really HIS image, it's just a buffer he keeps up to make himself more palatable. I wonder if that ever hurts him physically, if the mask ever feels like a "texture" muffling him.

there are times when I feel like it's no wonder he wasn't repulsed by Hyde when he first saw his reflection. Because I can only imagine by the time Hyde showed up he was already completely burnt out on being Jekyll.

[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment. 

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum. 

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis. 

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club. 

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go. 

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time. 

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup. 

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum. 

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time. 

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least. 

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city. 

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here. 

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home. 

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days. 

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear. 

You’re going to the booming “after life”. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains. 

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink. 

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place. 

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think. 

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you. 

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual. 

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering. 

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast. 

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile. 

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think. 

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night? 

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices. 

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway. 

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you. 

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it? 

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely. 

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through. 

God, it’s more beautiful inside. 

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head. 

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time. 

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of. 

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest. 

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows. 

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission. 

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work. 

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club. 

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her. 

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be. 

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food. 

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home. 

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that. 

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory. 

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go. 

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass. 

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest. 

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step. 

And suddenly, your body freezes. 

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of. 

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach. 

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?” 

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound. 

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up. 

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there. 

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take. 

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun. 

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring. 

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine. 

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache. 

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep. 

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you. 

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though. 

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person. 

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers. 

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself. 

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend. 

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright. 

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around. 

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile. 

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan. 

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.” 

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work. 

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.” 

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him. 

“So, it’s Friday.” 

He bounces on his feet. 

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.” 

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head. 

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?” 

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.” 

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun. 

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.” 

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance. 

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.” 

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong. 

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless. 

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls. 

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something. 

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up. 

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club. 

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes. 

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist. 

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.” 

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye. 

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling. 

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile. 

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness. 

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face. 

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes. 

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?” 

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you. 

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.” 

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly. 

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground. 

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.” 

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying. 

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone. 

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?” 

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar. 

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink. 

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar. 

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man. 

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat. 

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him. 

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?” 

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head. 

“Red death, please. Two of them.” 

The man nods with a knowing smile. 

“I saw that you came here with someone.” 

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him. 

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence. 

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.” 

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge. 

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else. 

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other. 

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment. 

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again. 

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts. 

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie. 

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it. 

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger. 

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long. 

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you. 

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry. 

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost. 

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!” 

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you. 

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach. 

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people. 

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.” 

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now. 

“Okay, lets get you to-” 

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd. 

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom. 

And it’s still suffocating in here. 

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now. 

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing. 

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you. 

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?” 

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you. 

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing. 

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly. 

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again. 

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face. 

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out. 

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.” 

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.” 

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh. 

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening. 

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them. 

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful. 

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone. 

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you. 

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it. 

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you. 

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll. 

And, well, you do get home safe. 

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame? 

Fuck no. 

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again. 

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist. 

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course. 

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers. 

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose. 

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out. 

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you. 

And, well. The night is a blur. 

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again. 

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it. 

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again. 

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity. 

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point. 

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness. 

And you search. 

And search. 

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point. 

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you. 

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off. 

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it. 

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point. 

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club. 

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp. 

Or human trafficking. 

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own. 

Still, you nod to the bouncer. 

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?” 

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face. 

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste. 

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy. 

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows. 

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours. 

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow. 

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting. 

Again.

A third meeting. 

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?” 

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him. 

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears. 

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times. 

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine. 

Pretending you’re not interested. 

Wondering why it is that you are, actually. 

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?” 

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention. 

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply. 

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?” 

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender. 

What was his name again? 

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no. 

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away. 

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers. 

You should find Jungwon and cling to him. 

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run. 

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.” 

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon. 

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present. 

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club. 

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color. 

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors. 

Blue, red, green– 

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit. 

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow. 

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think. 

Was it not a dream? 

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh. 

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room. 

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them. 

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse? 

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind? 

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you. 

He’s definitely looking for you. 

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back. 

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?” 

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation. 

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before. 

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room. 

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you. 

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more. 

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?” 

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.” 

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. 

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.” 

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all. 

“Come now, dear.” 

Reluctantly, you follow her. 

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be. 

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence. 

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat. 

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is. 

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.” 

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.” 

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.” 

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability. 

Again, red. 

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands. 

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale. 

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed  yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?” 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak. 

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed. 

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?” 

Exhale. 

“Me.” 

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch. 

Well, goddamn. 

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up. 

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.” 

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even. 

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?” 

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place. 

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him. 

God, he’s so charming. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep. 

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here. 

“Where were you?”  He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door. 

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies. 

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.” 

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys. 

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it. 

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not. 

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?” 

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend. 

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red. 

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it. 

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.” 

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him. 

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.” 

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side. 

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk. 

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something. 

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales? 

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world. 

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile. 

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim. 

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay. 

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more. 

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him. 

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel. 

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to. 

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway. 

Month after month after month. For years and years. 

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days. 

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies. 

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” 

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns. 

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.” 

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone. 

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.” 

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen. 

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift. 

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever. 

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake. 

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him. 

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you. 

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here. 

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room. 

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door. 

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him. 

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here? 

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows. 

You feel comfortable, safe. 

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives. 

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway. 

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

 silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways. 

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget. 

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close. 

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them. 

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back. 

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall. 

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.” 

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door. 

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes. 

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?” 

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist. 

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens. 

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest. 

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now. 

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach. 

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you. 

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made. 

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right? 

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.” 

Oh. 

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands. 

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.” 

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you. 

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again. 

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. 

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours. 

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you. 

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.” 

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly. 

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it. 

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth. 

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep. 

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away. 

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins. 

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.” 

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever. 

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth. 

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.” 

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits. 

“Now, listen.” 

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be. 

“Do you hear it?” 

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth. 

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste. 

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon. 

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying. 

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect. 

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least. 

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you. 

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips. 

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears. 

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true. 

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there. 

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath. 

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you. 

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you. 

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that. 

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now. 

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do. 

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own. 

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you. 

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too. 

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him. 

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked. 

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way. 

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood. 

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters. 

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You. 

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him. 

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–” 

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you. 

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it. 

Needing you to stay alive. 

Insane. 

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble. 

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either. 

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst. 

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now. 

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs. 

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?” 

Of course you fucking feel it. 

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold. 

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts. 

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants. 

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world. 

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt. 

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are. 

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold. 

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see. 

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again. 

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?” 

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat. 

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic? 

God, but it feels so, so fucking good. 

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah. 

So he is. 

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead. 

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end. 

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him? 

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him. 

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it. 

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point. 

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up. 

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him. 

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release. 

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed. 

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality? 

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories. 

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying. 

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there. 

Here it is. 

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you. 

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it? 

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice. 

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin. 

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long. 

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening. 

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this. 

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.” 

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?” 

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead. 

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.” 

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you. 

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself. 

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.” 

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.” 

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing. 

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek. 

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover. 

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive. 

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing. 

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy? 

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?” 

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive. 

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you. 

He’s never lied. 

You just refused to listen. 

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you. 

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all. 

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to. 

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself. 

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.” 

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.” 

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again. 

But he didn’t. 

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you? 

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him. 

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[rubyin-wonderland]

Cupcake

opla!Sanji x gn!reader

Summary: During some late night baking, your flirty crewmate decides to keep you company.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: traditionally feminine adjectives (pretty, gorgeous, beautiful) but no gender is explicitly stated, fluff, self deprecation, lots of compliments, self indulgent

Note: first attempt at a Sanji fic because branching out is important

Night has overtaken the ship. It's calm, and stars blink in the sky, twinkling for the world to see. The soft rocking of the water has lulled nearly everyone aboard into a sweet, lovely sleep.

You were the only one awake, settled in the kitchen, a pile of various ingredients surrounding you as you prepared to bake. There was no reason behind your choice of late night activity. No anniversary or debt in need of repaying or any special event that required baked goods. It was just a calm enough night, and you couldn't sleep, so it seemed like a proper course of action.

As you began to measure out the ingredients, separating them into bowls for organisation, you heard a creak, followed by footsteps. Somebody else was awake, and was coming closer.

You watched as the door opened, revealing Sanji, yawning, before noticing you, and stopping dead in his tracks, surprised at the sight of you, hard at work this late at night.

"Well, good morning." He gave you a quick smile before stretching a little bit. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Kind of." You watch as he approaches you, inspecting the counter and your little process. "What are you doing?"

"Making cupcakes." You answered simply, dropping the flour into the bowl, a cloud of white rising as the flour settled.

"So late at night?" "Maybe I'm really early. How about you?"

He smiled. "I was going to get a glass of water." You gestured behind you. "Go on, I won't stop you."

He passed by you to grab a glass. "So, baking all alone?"

"Yeah. I find it relaxes me." He nodded, then took a careful step towards the door. "Well, if I'm bothering you-"

"You're not."

The words came out quick, and you had hoped you hadn't sounded desperate. You doubted the chef could ever be a bother to you, and you truly hoped he would stay to accompany you while you worked.

"Oh. Well then, could I stay? And watch you bake?" He moved back to the side of the island, standing opposite you, looking hopeful that you would say yes to his request. "Only if you promise to stay out of the way." You said, trying to push back a little after your small outburst earlier.

He nodded and pulled up a chair, sitting down to watch you work. You moved swiftly, pouring the ingredients into their proper bowls, making sure the measurements were just right.

"So," he broke the silence between you. "Do you bake often?"

"I used to. It was quite the hobby back at home, but I haven't had the chance to do it here yet." Sanji nodded. "What do you like to make?"

You smiled, thinking back to the copious recipes you had backed up in your brain. "Where do I start? Cookies, breads, pastries, pies, anything really. And cakes." You gestured at your handiwork. "Cakes, of course."

"Are they your favourite to make?" Sanji asked. "Oh yeah. Used to spend all day decorating them with my mom. Icing them with my favourite colours and absolutely drenching them with sprinkles." You smiled at the memory. "Sounds nice." Sanji smiled back. "She'd like you." You said suddenly.

"She would?" He asked, a little taken aback.

The look on his face told you that you might have messed up again, possibly treading a little too close to the knowledge that you liked him. But it was too late to backpedal.

"Yeah. She'd probably call you a sweetie, invite you to dinner, and insist that you leave the house with a pair of newly knit socks."

"Your mother sounds lovely." You nodded. "She is. I hope she's not lonely without me to keep her company." "I'm sure the people of your village take good care of her." Sanji comforted.

"I'm sure too. Maybe I'll write her a letter sometime. Maybe she'll even write back. One can hope."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you sharing your talents with your crew."

You nodded your head in thanks. "Oh, you flatter me."

"You are quite worth it." He smiled at you, something you had taken a liking to. He reminded you a little of what you imagined princes looked like in fairy tales. Handsome, charming.

The conversation went cold as you continued working, focused on the process ahead of you.

You stirred the batter, carefully adding the dry ingredients to the mixture, combining the two.

You were focused, making sure not to spill anything as you worked carefully.

"You're really pretty when you're focused."

The words slipped out without warning. Even Sanji seemed a little surprised at his comment. He'd flirted with you before, but it had always been so worked up. An act. Over dramatic and at least to you, unserious.

You had never taken his compliments seriously. At best, you thought he was trying to make you feel better about yourself. You figured it was just an act he put on to humour you, and you enjoyed it, even if it didn't boost your confidence all that much.

Admittedly, you liked Sanji. Far more than any of your other crewmates. If he were to feel the same, you would be delighted, but you were almost entirely sure he wasn't. He also flirted with Nami, and so many others who would likely be much better matches for him.

You could stand having his pity flirts to tide you over while he found someone he truly liked.

However, this was no typical flirt. There was no quick wink or smirk on his face. Just honesty. And that was so unexpected you nearly dropped your bowl.

You managed to set the bowl of dry ingredients down without spillage, trying to calm down the incessant fluttering in your chest.

"I mean, you, uh, I was going to say, I only meant that..." he was unable to say anything coherent. A man with a thousand lines backed up in his brain, suddenly rendered speechless.

You backed away from the counter, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. Your jaw went slack as you watched him try to come up with something, anything, to save himself.

"I'm sorry, I should just go." Sanji was as red as a tomato, taking his glass and shuffling towards the door.

"Wait." Your voice commanded him, and he turned around to face you again, looking rather ashamed of himself.

"Did you mean that?" "It just slipped out, don't be uncomfortable, I just-" "You really think I'm pretty?" You didn't believe it, but maybe you could humour him for once.

He almost laughed in disbelief. "Of course I do! Who wouldn't?"

"Plenty of people. Lots of men. And I mean lots." Sanji scoffed. "Forget them. They're nothing but trouble. You're gorgeous."

You could sense it returning. The typical flirting. His overdramatic way of trying to comfort you.

"Oh please, like you haven't been playing with me all this time too." You swatted your hand at him. "You and your over the top flirting, I know what you think of me."

Sanji frowned, confused. "And what do I think of you?"

"Not much. You notice me and don't want to hurt my feelings by ignoring me so you flirt anyways. I know you don't truly think I'm pretty-" he practically gasped at your statement. "-but I promise I don't hold it against you. It's nice that you try to get me to think I'm pretty, but I know I'm not. That's okay. I have other skills."

"How could you possibly think that?" Sanji looked more than horrified. "I have never flirted with anyone I have found less than stunning."

You laughed, getting back to your baking, mixing the dry ingredients with the wet. "There's a first time for everything."

Sanji looked absolutely distraught. "You don't seriously think I say everything I do to you as a joke? As consolation?"

You shrugged. "I mean, yeah? You just always put so much effort into your flirting, I thought it was a joke. I never knew if you meant it or not. I figured you didn't."

He walked forward, looking you in the eye from across the island, trying to convey how truthful he was being.

"I promise you, you are beautiful. Any old fool could see that. You are pretty when you're focused and I have never been more enchanted by someone in my life. And I mean that."

You laughed awkwardly, face still blazing hot. "Okay, you don't have to prove it. You can stop it, Sanji."

He circled the room until he was stood right next to you. The last of the dry ingredients fell into your batter and you set the bowl down, not mixing it yet.

"If you do not believe it tonight, I will tell you tomorrow, and the day after it, and the day after that, for however long it takes for you to believe it."

You chuckled softly. "Okay. I gotta finish these cupcakes." Sanji gently reached out a hand, resting it on your shoulder so that you would look at him.

"You are pretty, whether you believe it or not." You gently shrugged him off, though treasuring the feeling of his hand touching you. "Okay, whatever you say."

The two of you did not speak after that. He returned to his spot on the other side of the island, and the two of you spent the rest of the baking process in silence, until the last batch of cupcakes were removed from the oven.

"I'm gonna get a bit of sleep before the sun rises." You said quietly, waking up your companion, who had been napping on the countertop.

"Of course, cupcake." He said, clearly tired and a little delirious. The mix-up was clear, and yet, it had sounded like a pet name. And you giggled. The second the noise left your mouth, you turned red, and ran from the room, scurrying back to your bedroom to get a few blinks of sleep before the next day's adventures.

When you awoke, you did not feel well rested at all, but at the very least, you could sneak a tasty cupcake in at breakfast, as long as Luffy hadn't found and finished them all as soon as he saw them.

The kitchen was lively with early morning chatter, and you noticed a plate of neatly decorated cupcakes on the counter. Iced with your favourite colour, drizzled in sprinkles. Each one prettier than the last.

You looked over at the chef, who was caught between two pans of scrambled eggs and bacon, trying to see if it was him who had decorated them.

He looked up from his work briefly and smiled at you.

"Good morning cupcake." Your face burned under his eyes. Of course he had heard your giggle, and of course he was holding it against you.

"Did you do this?" You asked, pointing at the cupcakes. "Yes, I'm sorry but I figured you'd like them nice and iced. Like you said earlier. I left most of the rest for you to decorate, if you want."

"I didn't know you knew my favourite colour." You said, picking up a cupcake, admiring it.

"Of course I do. Someone so pretty deserves to have things remembered." You rolled your eyes at his not-so-sneaky attempt at flattering you. "Nice try, Sanji, but I'm not a fool." You took a bite from your cupcake.

He sighed. "I'll have to try harder next time."

"You don't have to do this. I'm fine, I promise you."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, cupcake." He grinned at the flustered look on your face. "I'm doing this because you deserve it."

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: I for Incubus

Summary: You suppose the deal technically went correctly, but when the incubus said he required your life force, you thought he meant... well your life.

Notes: ~2.9k words. I don't know what I wanted to do with this fic, all I know was that Dream would rock an autonomous tail.

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, Incubus!Dream x Reader, dubious consent ngl, demons do not care for condoms or sex safety, Dream has a tail and it does things, does this count as ritual sex, size difference, belly bulge, womb tattoo hehe, his wiener is weeeeeird, his tongue is weeeeeeird

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

H for Heat ⇆ J for Joyride

“Hoc carmine, dae…daemo—erm, daemonium somno accerso qui vocatis respondeat meis. Quis mihi det quod quaero. Quis mercedem suam accipiet pro suo servitio?” You read out, stuttering on a few pronunciations.

The circle of candles flickers creating shadows over your kneeling, naked form. You frown at the old parchment still, looking between it and the chalk-drawn symbol in the middle of your basement floor. You are sure the symbol was drawn correctly and the candles were placed just like the diagram. So then… Why isn’t anything happening?

Maybe you read it wrong. You squint at the parchment again and begin to chant once more. “Hoc carmine—”

The candles went out and you suck your lips in to suppress the scream that tried to burst out. Your sick mother’s room was just above the basement that you find yourself in and you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

“What do you want?” A voice calls out, slow and seductive in the shadows. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to get used to the sudden darkness in the room. The creature didn’t speak again, waiting impatiently for your request. It has been years since the last time he was summoned, and he was positively starving for some human flesh. 

“My mother, she’s sick,” you explain, your own voice echoing back to you in the tense atmosphere. 

“How drab, how boring,” it tsks with a click of his tongue. “You wish for me to make her well and ‘you’ll do anything, I promise’,” the creature says mockingly. 

You don’t respond for a moment, the demon you summoned summarizing the speech you had spent the last week practicing to a mere few words. “Yeah… that’s pretty much it.”

“Very well, what do you have to give in return for my service?” It asks you, still veiled in the darkness. “But know this, I am quite indifferent to your human, materialistic objects. Money will have no benefit to you tonight, little one.”

“Well, what do you want then?” You ask in a shaky breath. You can’t see him, but you can feel his eyes raking over your naked form. 

“Your life force seems good enough for me,” it hums in thought. “Young… vital… yes…”

Your life force for your mother’s health? That was an easy decision, but when faced with the uncertainty of death do you hesitate. You still had so much of your life ahead of you. Friends to meet, foods to try, hell you haven’t even found a romantic partner yet. But, your life isn’t the one that’s dying right now. 

“Okay,” you breathe out shakily. 

“Then the deal is set.”

The candles flicker back one by one until the shadow reveals itself to you within the circle. His legs are crossed, his arms resting on his knees. He is every bit as the paper described him: hair as dark as midnight, skin pale as death, sullen black eyes with the stars within them.

The parchment fails to mention, however, the thin tail that was swaying back and forth within the barriers of the summoning circle. Or the horns that protruded out of his head. The demon smiles at you, a haunting image full of sharp teeth and a darting, long tongue that licked his lips. 

“Release me from my confines and we can set the plan in motion,” he whispers in a low growl to you, moving to stand on his haunches. His figure seems to grow with the one subtle movement, towering over you as you swallow.

“I release you,” you command with a tremble in your voice. 

Nothing physical changes around you but the shift is noticeable anyway. The candles blow outward from him as if trying to escape their own wicks. The smell he emits permeates your nose, something like soot and flames and a tinge of death.

You blink and he lunges at you, pining you to the ground and an unexpected scream leaves your lips. It didn’t hurt, not much, except for the wooden floor digging into your shoulder blades, but you still screamed. 

“If you want it to be easy, do not scream. Your fear makes you all the more tempting,” he purrs into your neck and you turn your head away. 

Your body trembles under his gaze, eyes roaming around the basement space of your childhood home. They lock onto a random water stain as you try to distract yourself from your imminent death. The stain looks like Elton John, you thought to yourself before squeezing your eyes shut. 

You feel his breath over your skin and you’re begging he’ll do it mercifully, straight for the neck and then you wouldn’t feel the pain of your body being eaten by all of those sharp teeth. But it doesn’t come.

Your eyes snap open as you feel the undeniable slimy and wet sensation of his forked tongue on your neck. It stops just over your jugular, feeling the erratic pulse through the vein. Thick, fast, so full of life and he groans at the rhythmic thump against his tongue. 

His tail moves along your leg, feeling the soft skin beneath its silky scales. The ticklish sensation makes you squirm in its grasp, kicking your legs fruitlessly against it as it crawls higher on your thigh. The point of it settles between the sensitive heat before your legs and you let out a broken gasp.

Oh, my god. He’s not going to kill you. He’s going to fuck you senseless!

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you pant as his tongue licks the hollow divot above your collarbone. 

He hums as he tastes the adrenaline in your sweat. “One does not kill off the lamb for meat when it can still provide wool.” He pauses for a moment, pulling away from your neck to look at you. “You thought I was going to kill you?”

You look back at him, your eyes meeting the endless void that is his. “Well, yeah. You said ‘life force.’ That seems pretty… death-y to me.”

“Why are humans so dreary?” He asks himself before he remembers that he is here to feast on your body and returns his lips to your body. 

You don’t bother with a response, not when your back was arching at the way his lips trailed down the valley between your breasts. His lips hover over your left breast, feeling the blistering speed at which your heart pounded in your chest. 

The ever so subtle thrum of life makes his eyes flutter in satisfaction, the feeling of life something he has missed the feeling of. Your body was so warm against his cold one, he just couldn’t help sealing his lips across the nipple. 

“Holy…fuck,” you curse out at the sensitive sensation.

The fork in his tongue lavishes around the peak, it meets the sensitive bud and then spreads out again as his mouth continues to suckle on your breast. The moans he manages to elicit from you are quiet and restrained and he needs more from you. 

“This deal is two sided,” he begins, whispering in a gruff voice as he moves over to your other breast. “If you want your mother to become well again, I need you to start making more noise.” 

The tail that was obediently nestled between your legs begins to move higher, the blunt point of it finding your enlarged clit easily. You couldn’t help the moan that escapes your lip when it slides across the sensitive nerve, using your own arousal to its benefit. 

“Yes, just like that,” the demon praises as he hears your broken gasps and moans. His own groan vibrates against the smooth skin of your breast as he indulges himself against the thrum of your heartbeat again. 

Your hips buck involuntarily against his tail, the sensation something you craved. Then you would squirm away with a whimper on your tongue as the sensation grows too much, too quick. The longer the tail swirled around your weeping cunt, the harsher you began to clench around nothing. It gives a rewarding slap down on your clit, eliciting another wonderous moan from your throat. 

The demon has returned to your neck, rekindling his fascination with your neck and the vein it housed. He bites into the skin, watching with sick satisfaction as the blood trails down the muscles of your neck. Pleasure succumbs to pain and pain to pleasure once again as he soothes over the bites with his tongue. The saliva is cool against the wounds, stopping the bleeding all the same. His lips ghost across your neck, satiating his own greed and biting down again just to taste the iron. 

“Red looks good on you,” he hums, his arms entrapping themselves around you as your back arches off the ground again. 

With ease, he rests you on his squatting lap and the obvious hard arousal he sports lays heavy against your stomach. The demon looks around the basement before he eyes landed on an abandoned work bench. In two strides he makes it there and unceremoniously drops you onto the table. The tools clatter as you're dropped down and even with your body on an elevated platform, he still towers over you. 

You looked absolutely ravishing in his gaze. Wide eyed with lust blown pupils, the ragged breathing from your dried lips, and the dried blood that ribbons down your neck like a gift just for him to open. His hands go to your hips again, lifting them to meet his. 

In the dim light, you notice his cock, or should you even call it that if it was as ribbed and as thick as it was? He paints himself with your wetness, using your own arousal to coat himself as he pushes the blunt of his head against your entrance. His tail finds itself wrapped around your thigh again, tightening on itself like a python upon its prey. Your thigh pudges against the bondage and it's the only grounding thing against your overheating body. 

He gives an experimental push forward, groaning at the way your arousal squelches around him.

"Breathe," he tells you.

You let go of the breath you were holding, taking in a shaky breath and allowing your body to grow limp in his hold. At the next exhale, he smiles, a disturbingly haunting and arousing image, and he gives into you the first two inches. 

Your breath stills in your lungs again, head snapping to the wooden table beneath you and you can see the stars dancing across your eyelids. The stretch was foreign, intrusive almost, as he takes you slowly. You need to breathe. Fuck, how do you breathe? Your body racks as it takes in a shaky breath and he stills within you. 

“Scream my name,” he commands in a growl above you. 

“Daemonium somno,” you simply moan. Your eyes meet him again in a desperate attempt at connection. 

“No,” he scowls, pushing a little further into your cunt. “That is my title. Say my name, little one.”

“I—I don’t know it!” You pant out, stuttering your answer. The further he pushed, the more of your ability to think seems to vanish into thin air. You’re sure you saw the name in passing somewhere, in the old leather bound book from which you ripped the ritual parchment from.

The incubus holds your hips down to sustain your squirming. He lets out a satisfied groan as he sees himself full in you, the defining shape of his cock bulging from your stomach. You were so warm, it enveloped him like the life you represented. He takes his hips back, eyes never leaving his own cock impression as it descends. When he pushes back in and your body trembles beneath him, his fingers trace the outline of his cock. 

“Repeat after me, little one,” the demon commands. “Mor-phe-us.”

“Mor…” you gasp as his hand trails under your breasts again. “Mor-phe…” the words get caught in your throat. 

“Yes, just like that. One more try, one more,” he coos above you, rutting his hip against your cunt again. 

“Morpheus!” You cry out, head thrown back as he pulls out and pushes in again, slowly and inch by thick inch. 

“Again,” he instructs. His cock warms itself in you, the coldness slowly ebbing away as it nests in there. Each pulse from your cunt conforms itself towards the shape that is so uniquely him. 

“Morpheus!” You scream again, your nails finding purchase against his arms and he hisses in pleasure as you draw black blood from his skin. 

Your back is arched like a taut bow, your thighs trembling as he lifts a leg above his hip, only to drive himself deeper into you. Only to satiate his own ego as he sees your belly bulge with himself. Your moans are nothing but a discordant symphony in his ears; so chaotic yet pleasing as he inserts himself over and over again. 

Morpheus’ tail unravels itself, wanting a taste of something other than the skin around your thigh. There is a wrapping imprint on your skin, something that will take months to heal and remind you of the incubus Morpheus for days to come. It teases the sensitive peak of your breasts, ghosting over your breasts, wrapping itself around the mound and squeezing tightly to massage them. 

“Oh god!” You jolt at the sensation. 

“There are no gods here.” Morpheus condemns your outburst with a particularly hard thrust, bruising your cervix and you cry out for him again. 

Morpheus continues you fuck you, his hands bringing your hips to meet his thrusts, spurred on by the sound of your babbling nonsense. Occasionally his name would fall from his lips amongst the pleas of ‘too much,’ or ‘so good,’ that he doesn’t really know or care if you want to stop. 

Each drag of Morpheus’ cock has you reeling in pleasure and the promise of the most earth shattering orgasm is just on the horizon of your grasp. You’re simply begging now—please, please, please, please!—the words barely heard above the erotic sound of slick squelching and the creek of the tool bench beneath you. 

His tail slithers away, and Morpheus smirks as you whimper at the lost sensation. Your whimper turns into another moan as it finds itself against your clit again, rubbing it in fast circles in sync with Morpheus’ thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck. I’m going to… going to…” you try to warn but it just comes out as a stuttering mess, again. 

“Come for me. Give me your vitality.” Morpheus’ voice penetrates the sex-numbing haze that your mind was in. 

Your walls clench around him like a vice, your orgasm taking over your entire body as it shakes each one of your muscles. Your mouth is gaping open as it tries to take in as much air as possible, your chest heaving with breath. The moment shakes you through your core, igniting your nerves with life at the sudden release. 

Morpheus spills himself into you and you groan at the sensation of his cold seed taking residence inside of your cunt. His hips stutter, indulgently giving away to a few more pumps just to feel your walls spasm around him as his cock pumps within you. 

“That was…” you swallow, resting your head on the table again and closing your eyes. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart start to slow down as Morpheus softens and pulls out of your now weeping cunt. A few large drops of your mixed orgasmic releases fall to the basement floor and you grimace at the thought of cleaning it.  “Do you do other deals? Like… what if I want a million dollars right now or something?”

“One deal per summon as per the old laws I’m afraid, little one,” Morpheus chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “But…”

A warm sensation spreads across your lower stomach and you prop yourself up on shaking arms to look. Morpheus’ nail draws an intricate rune on your lower stomach, just over where your womb is. The nail cuts at your skin, and you see the blood dewing on your skin but no pain follows. It glows for a moment before dying down into simple black ink. 

“If you wish to make another deal, this binds you to me. It will only be me that will come to answer your prayers,” he promises but it almost sounds like a threat with the way his tongue licks across his lips. “Your vitality is addictive on my body, little one.”

“And what about my side of the deal? My mother?” You ask.

As if on cue, you hear your mother calling your name in the kitchen above. She wasn’t even able to get out of bed a few moments ago, but the way the pots and pans were banging against each other was telling enough that Morpheus held up to his end of the bargain. 

“Thank you,” you sigh out with relief. 

“I will see you soon, little one.” One blink and he was gone already. 

The summoning circle has been erased from the floor and the candles look like they were never burned. But the tattoo over your womb remained, so did the bruises of his bites and tail that wrapped around you. They were the only signs that anything happened at all. 

“Are you going to come up here and help me or do I have to do everything by myself?” Your mother shouts at you. 

“Coming!” You reply back after another deep breath. 

Now, where did you put your clothes?

Having fun times in the basement sounds like tetanus waiting to happen.

So that's your lesson, get your tetanus shot before you go summoning demons. Be safe out there.

♡ Yours, Layla

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

H for Heat ⇆ J for Joyride

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.” 

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline. 

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel. 

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still. 

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.>  This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.> 

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #1 - coffee can wait

elijah mikaelson x reader

summary: cockwarming with elijah

tags: sleepiness, cockwarming, morning sex, vaginal sex

word count: 1,051

a/n: wrote this drunk, edited it sober. i’ve had writer’s block all weekend, so hopefully writing this can crack that. plus, i was in desperate need of something smutty with elijah ;)

“Are you still busy?” You poke your head into your lover’s study. It’s nearly midnight, and the man has been dutifully going over papers since after dinner. 

“Unfortunately, yes. Is there something you need, baby?”

“Just you. I can’t sleep without you.”

Elijah sighs wistfully, “come here.” He pats his lap for you to sit. 

You hurry over to him, nightgown catching a bit of air. When you reach his side, he helps position you over his lap, then holds onto your waist. You adjust your hips slightly, getting comfortable.

“Don’t move too much, baby.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Mind if I go back to reading? I should finish in the next hour or two.”

“Okay.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, head on his shoulders, and curl into him. In only a couple of minutes, your eyes are fluttering with sleepiness. But despite your exhaustion, part of you refuses to sleep. Underneath you, whether he realizes it or not, Elijah’s growing hard. He’s rubbing up on your legs, making your already needy state much worse. 

“‘Lijah?” You say after a little. 

“Yes?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Not quite.”

“Can you… can you take a break?”

“I really shouldn’t, baby.”

“But you’re… you’re,” the words leave you. Unable to voice them, you tell him by feeling a hand on his cock. 

He groans in pleasure, then grimaces. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, and neglected to notice… that.”

“I can help,” you mumble sleepily. 

“No, baby, you don’t have to.”

“Wanna.”

“Aren’t you too tired?”

You sigh in response, knowing he’s right. 

“Let’s try this, okay?” He moves your body gently just enough that he can pull himself out, hissing when the cool air of the room hits him. “Hold on, just for a second.” You nod, and he wets two fingers in his mouth before putting them on your clit. He rubs in a couple circles before slipping his fingers inside you, testing your wetness. When he decides you’re ready, he gestures for you to get on top. 

As soon as you do, he fills you completely. If you could see it, your stomach would probably have a bulge from how big he is, and the thought just makes you wetter. You both let out a moan at the feeling, causing him to turn your head to face him for a kiss. 

“Comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

Perfectly fit, you lean back into his shoulder. Before you know it, you’re out like a light. 

Half an hour later, Elijah’s finally done with his reading. He’s about to praise you for your patience, but then notices you’re fast asleep. The sight brings a smile to his face. 

As quietly as he can, he picks you up and carries you to the bed. Without undressing from his suit, he lies down beside you. Even if he wasn’t too tired to change, changing into different clothes would require pulling out from you, and he’s too satiated for that right now. So, after one more look at your beautiful face, he lets his eyes flutter shut. 

◇◇◇◇

You wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of fresh coffee filling your senses. It’s a lovely way to start a morning, and reminds you so much of why you love living with the Mikaelsons. But then you try to sit up, and realize someone has a tight grip on your body, holding you in place. You take a relaxed breath. Elijah. Smiling, but wanting that coffee, you try to wiggle out of his grip. 

That’s when you realize… the events of last night: not being able to sleep; checking up on your boyfriend… you wiggle one more time… he’s still inside of you, too. 

Almost instantly, you feel your body getting wet again. He’s still as hard as he was yesterday, and is still in his suit, too. 

“‘Lijah,” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “Hey.”

Slowly, his eyes blink open. “Good morning, baby.”

“Good morning,” you kiss his nose this time. “Did you sleep well?”

“Quite well, did you?”

“Mhm. Woke up even better.”

“Is that so?”

You answer by moving your hips against his cock, eliciting a groan from his throat. 

“There’s coffee downstairs,” you then say. 

He glares at you, a smirk teasing his lips. “Coffee can wait.” Without any further warning, he moves fast to climb on top of you, thrusting even deeper into you. He buries his face in your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, and making you moan from the pleasure. 

“I-’Lijah,” you whine. 

“Are you okay with this?” He asks suddenly.

“Perfectly.”

“Then let me love you, since I didn’t get to last night.”

You don’t have time to answer before he turns you into a moaning mess. One hand holds your hips, while the other makes circles on your clit. He thrusts into you at a comfortable pace, still kissing all over your face and neck. You bury your hands in his hair, tugging at the ends, pulling him closer to your body. 

It isn’t long before you feel yourself getting close. You try to contain your moans, knowing his whole family is probably awake downstairs, but Elijah isn’t having it. He praises you after every loud cry, and you, desperate to please him, give in quickly.

Soon, sweat beads on his forehead, and his thrusts get more sloppy. He’s panting in your ear, sending shock waves throughout your body, bringing you closer. 

“‘Lijah?”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna c-” You’re cut off by your own pleasure, unable to finish the sentence. “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, ffffff-” He kisses you quiet, tongue slipping inside your mouth. Seconds later, he follows, cumming deep inside you, groaning as he does. A vibration ripples through you and you shiver. “Fuck, ‘Lijah. I love you.”

As soon as he comes down from his high, he kisses you gently. “I love you, too, baby.”

◇◇◇◇

It isn’t for another hour that you get down to the coffee. After peeling yourselves out of bed, you take a quick shower together. Things get dirty again before you get clean, but eventually you make it down to the kitchen. Of course, all three siblings are there, sipping slowly, with judging looks. 

“Busy night, huh?”

You mess up the boy’s hair playfully as you walk past him. “Shut up, Kol.”

[animeyanderelover]

I’m pleasantly surprised that people are actually requesting for this show. When I published my first Hc’s about the wolves, I really wasn’t sure how successful that would be.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, manipulation, gaslighting, s/o being monopolized, forced relationship, jealousy, isolation

Imprinting on Bella’s step-sister

You're the biological child of Phil Dywer and ever since he has married Renée, she has become your step-mother. You are happy for him because he genuinely seems to love her, even though his job requires him to travel often. You and your step-sister Bella see how much Renée misses her husband and Bella soon tells you that she has decided to move back to Forks to her biological dad in hopes and asks you if you would like to come with her. She explains to you that with the both of you living in Forks, Renée might be able to travel with Phil and could spend more time with him. You realize that she has the best in mind for her mother but you hesitate because whilst you know Charlie a bit, he isn't the father with whom you have grown up. On the other hand you also know that Renée can't tag along with her husband because of the both of you still being minors and you also know that your father and your new step-mom miss each other terribly whenever the both of them are separated from each other.

Bella proposes the idea one evening when the entire family is present because she kind of knows that it would be harder for you to explain yourself if only your new mother is in the house. You're still somewhat unsure about everything but Bella is already determined and you also wish for both of your parents to be able to spend more time together so hesitantly you confirm that you would like to tag along with Bella. Renée feels guilty when she realizes why the both of you are doing this, especially since Phil id your real father which makes this even harder for you. She tries to tell the both of you that everything will be fine and that she doesn't mind but Bella's mind is already set and you pull yourself together too. Your father is saddened by the news but decides to respect your wishes and instead see it as a good opportunity for you to brighten your prespective and meet new people.

Charlie is nice to you when both of you arrive in Forks, although you still feel a tad bit more awkward than Bella who seems comfortable because this is the father she has grown up with. You do your best to not show your hesitance and your nervousness though because Charlie is a good man. You come to realize soon that Bella herself seems to have troubles adjusting to Forks and the new school due to her quiet and introverted nature. Both of you just stick together in the beginning since both of you already know each other and are step-sisters anyways. Luckily both of you soon find your own group of friends and you start feeling more comfortable. At the same time though, Bella starts gravitating to the mysterious Edward who, as Jessica tells you, is together with his adopted siblings quite the mystery in the entire school. Although you have a bad feeling about him, you don't stop Bella.

You are introduced to Edward around the same time, a childhood friend of Bella as you soon find out, and you quickly notice that he is clearly in love with Bella. Your sister on the other hand only sees him as a good friend and you are just as aware of the fact that she already loves Edward. You can't help but think that Jacob appears to be the better choice though. He's sweet, protective and above all he looks normal. You subtly try to hint to Bella that he would be the safer choice but she ignores everything you say as she reacts quickly defensive as soon as you even mildly say anything against Edward. In favor of not causing a rift between the two of you, you give up and try to accept Edward. This is harder than expected though because Bella starts getting constantly in danger as soon as she involves herself with him and the Cullens. You can't help the sliver of bitter resentment when Bella breaks her leg and suddenly distances herself from you, more secretive than ever.

She always reassures you that everything will be fine throughout everything and you swallow all your strong dislike back. Only for Edward to disappear, leaving your step-sister broken and empty. If you could, you would slap him good across his stupid face as you try to support your sister and pick up the broken pieces as good as you can. You even contact Jacob snd inform him about her current status in hopes that by spending time with him, she might start feeling better. He latches onto this chance and you're all up for it, respect his wishes when he asks you if he can have some time alone with Bella. He's trying his luck now and whilst you aren't sure anymore if that will be of any use because of Bella's strong infatuation with Edward, you do what you can. Then he suddenly pulls back too and you are flabbergasted, can't believe that he would have done something like this to Bella.

You try to assist Bella to find him only for her to ask you to stay out of this. That's the first time you get really mad at her to the point of yelling because you're so frustrated. Frustrated because you know that she tries to keep something a secret from you despite you being her step-sister. Does she not trust you? She flinches, tries to make herself small as you get vent your emotions out but remains firm in her decision to keep you out of her business. It's too dangerous, you shouldn't get involved. Her own hypocrisy flies cleanly over her own head. You calm at least a bit down when she tells you that she's gotten back in contact with Jacob, explains briefly that he was having a hard time. You don't want to see the bastard's face anymore though as you wonder why Bella always has to be involved with such guys.

The final piece that breaks you is when Bella abruptly leaves and flies to Italy without giving you any explanation, although you see her with one of the Cullens. Not even Charlie can tell you clearly why she left and that is when you finally explode and storm to Jacob's house after getting the address from Charlie. Billy opens the door surprised after hearing your consistent pounding and ringing as you don't even let him have the first word, instantly asking him if Jacob is at home. He tries to stop you as you forcefully get in his house, vivid and ready to shake answers out of Jacob. Because you have a good feeling that he knows what's up with everything that has happened to Bella recently. He's most likely even directly involved. He's in the kitchen, a mug of hot beverage in his hands as he hears the loud noises and sees you storming through the door out of the corner of his eyes.

You demand answers from him, insist that you have the right to know what is going on with your sister. You notice that he looks very different. His long hair cut short and you even notice a tattoo on his arm and wonder if he has joined some sort of delinquent group. You can't help but feel disappointed because you genuinely trusted him with Bella only for him to abandon her too. Why is your sister surrounded by shitty men like that?? You glare at him, growing even more frustrated when you realize that he doesn't even turn around to look at him and start angrily yelling at him. You say some hurtful stuff to him within the passion of your anger, notice from the corner of your eyes how Billy looks increasingly worried and even scared as he tries to stop you but you're too caught up in your own frustration.

His hand clenches into a fist and you notice that he starts to tremble slightly but finally he turns around to look at you as you've successfully managed to make him unable to ignore him. You're prepared for him to get angry with you but the moment his eyes meet yours, you hear him gasping as he suddenly drops the mug in his hands, the object shattering as soon as it hits the ground as the hot liquid spills on the ground. You flinch in surprise, stare down at the broken cup only to look back at him confused only to find his gaze glued to you. He looks as if he is in a daze, a dreamy and reverent shine in his eyes as he stares at you. All traces of bitterness and anger vanish from his face as he steps forward to you. You stand still in your place, majorly confused with his sudden shift of behavior. Billy's face on the other hand has lit up with realization as he looks up at you with shock and surprise.

You have no idea what is going on as Jacob suddenly stands right in front of you, one of his hands suddenly grabbing your own hand. He’s really warm as you notice but that’s besides the point. He asks you softly if you’d like to stay for a bit and it weirds you out. What is going on? It’s like he has just forgotten about everything you just yelled at him. You look confused at his father but he still seems to be quite in shock from whatever realization he just had. Jacob seems to want to bring you into his room until you blur out that he still spilled his mug all over the floor and that you should probably clean it up. You’re just searching for an excuse to get away from him as his sudden shift in behavior scares you. He quickly tells you that he’ll do it though and that you can just sit down in the kitchen in the meantime, his eyes showing his eagerness to have you within his reach.

The following days feel surreal to you. It’s like he’s forgotten all about Bella and instead has latched onto you all of a sudden. You don’t get any answers out of him either although he promises you that he’ll tell you, even claiming to you that Bella will probably never tell you. His promises manage to keep you close and he knows that which is why Jacob uses it as manipulation. His previous love for Bella is all but forgotten as you are his real imprint and his body is filled with blissful delight. He dedicates himself to stick close to you, visits you countless times whilst using the trust Charlie has with him to lure you out of your room. He tells Charlie that he’s worried about you because of Bella’s sudden absence and would like to try to cheer you up. To your dismay Charlie decides to believe him because he is also concerned about you and you can only reject Jacob that often until Charlie starts getting suspicious.

When Bella returns with Edward, you notice Jacob’s good mood dropping rapidly. Shouldn’t he be happy that Bella is back? You want to greet Bella happily for finally returning although you’re still mad with Edward. It never gets that far though as you’re suddenly pulled back by Jacob who wraps his arms tightly and protectively around you. You glance up confused and feel your breath hitching in your throat when you see the hateful and resentful glare he gives both of them. Edward’s eyes widen a tad bit in surprise, you don’t know why but he also seems to realize something as his face reminds you of Billy when he seemed to notice something you didn’t. At least Bella is in the same boat as you as she looks at Jacob confused. When she tries to approach you, he sneers at her to stay back, his voice dripping with anger and spite that you never thought would come from him. What is wrong with him? Bella is his friend! Edward steps protectively in front of Bella as both men glare at each other.

You don’t understand what is going on as Jacob suddenly blames Bella for keeping you away from him, accusing her that she just wants to see him suffer but that this won’t happen anymore. He sounds like a paranoid maniac as he throws those accusations at her and Bella and you exchange confused and frightened looks as Jacob keeps you as close to him as possible before dragging you away from both of them. As soon as the both of you are alone and you try to collect your racing mind, he suddenly demands of you to stay away from both of them. They’re trouble for you, with him you’re much safer. You stare at him before shakily asking you what is going on. Your meek tone softens his harsh features as he embraces you and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, promising you that everything will be fine now. You have him.

From that day on Jacob becomes unbearable. He’s always spending his time with you and his attitude is terrible. He’s hostile and aggressive around everyone around you, his mood quickly spoiled as soon as you ignore him for one freaking minute in favor of chatting with one of your friends. He’s rude and salty with them, completely ignores your feelings as he scares them away and manages to make them avoid you. Worst of all is that as soon as you lash out at him, he starts crying and begging you to not leave him and abandon him like Bella did. He loves you! He can’t live without you! Everything leaves you with a major headache, you don’t understand anything coming from his mouth. In what way did Bella abandon him? You attempt to ask Bella about it but she tells you that Jacob will probably tell you soon enough, her eyes avoiding yours as if she’s guilty of something. You don’t get much time to spend with Bella as Edward keeps her away from you and has her avoiding you just as much as Jacob makes sure that you stay away from those two. They’re bad influences after all.

Eventually he brings you along to one of the private meetings of his tribe. You initially want to reject and flee from him by locking yourself up in your room but when he tells you that tonight he’ll tell you everything, you have no choice. You notice that a lot of his other friends have the same tattoo as them as they welcome you. Jacob keeps you protectively close to him the entire time. It’s on that night that you find out everything you thought only existed in fairy tails. You have troubles looking Bella into her eyes after that, almost feel betrayed by her as you find out about her plans to turn into a vampire and for never telling you anything. The news of that Jacob imprinted on you and that it is physically painful for a shapeshifter to stay away from their imprint shackles you to him, forces a responsibility on you that ties you to him. Jacob seems satisfied though. He has you all for himself after all. That’s everything he ever wanted.

[seramilla]

A thought for the Emily in Hell AU: Emily experiencing her first ever molt.

She’s used to the idea, at least on someone else. Vaggie used to molt shortly after Extermination Day, and once she trusted Emily enough into their relationship she would let her help with her wings. Emily’s never experienced it herself, though, what with being a seraphim in Heaven and all that. Hell changes the game, of course.

Cue an absolutely twitchy, itchy Emily getting sat down by Vaggie and Charlie to help her with her wings molting because Vaggie knows exactly how uncomfortable that is and Charlie used to help her dad with it all the time.

(Bonus: Lucifer sneaking pics on his phone of an absolutely messy, grumpy looking Emily at the start of the preening session and sending it to Sera.)

The itchiness and inability to scratch her own back is driving Emily absolutely bonkers. She'd heard from other angels her entire life that the molting process is long, miserable, and requires a certain level of trust among other angels to make it through. Emily never had to worry about that in Heaven. Seraphim are a cut above the rest; made perfectly in the Lord's image. But when Emily had chosen to remain in Heaven, and then Fallen, the entire game changed.

Emily's nervous about asking anyone for help. Especially Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie especially has been so kind to her...so selfless, inviting both her and Vaggie into her home, and loving them both with her entire being. She doesn't want to impose when Charlie and Vaggie are so busy. They are both working hard at the hotel, and Emily hasn't quite found her place yet. She interacts with the patrons quite a bit these days, but that's become more difficult with her recent discomfort.

"You okay, Em?" Charlie asks one evening when they're all lounging in the lobby, watching television while the other patrons are out. Emily tries so hard not to scratch, but she inadvertently rubs her back against the couch for relief, without even thinking about it. Vaggie, on the other hand, gives her a kind of...knowing look. Like she's figured it out.

"I know that face. Are you molting? That's never happened before. Is it uncomfortable?"

"Umm...yes," Emily finally admits, twitching a little as she gets a tingle down her spine from her wings moving. "Just a day or two. I picked out the feathers that were bothering me that I could reach, but...aaaggghhhh, Vaggie, help me!! It's so itchy!!"

"Of course, babe. Come here. Sit on the floor in front of me."

Emily sits on the floor at Vaggie's feet. She takes off her uniform top, the one that Charlie had provided for her when she started helping at the hotel, but leaves her tank top on underneath. Charlie gasps and says, "The skin there is so red!! Is that normal?! Does that hurt you, Em?!"

"It's just 'cause she's been scratching," Vaggie explains, moving Emily's hair out of the way to get a better look. "Her feathers are a lot thicker than mine, and she's got a LOT more of 'em. No wonder you've been so itchy! They're all crowded in there."

Turning to Charlie, Vaggie asks, "Will you take that side while I take this one? It'll be easier if we tag-team this."

Charlie gets this determined look on her face. She pumps her fist in the air, showing that indomitable spirit that she has, always wanting to be helpful to others. Especially her wonderful, gorgeous girlfriends.

"Yes! We'll do this together. Let's pluck this bitch!"

"Uh, yeah!" Vaggie says, laughing hysterically. "That's one way of putting it, hon!"

It takes a while, but Emily quickly loses herself in the feeling of her girlfriends gently plucking out loose feathers. Especially around her upper back and shoulder blades, where she can't reach at all. Vaggie tells her some of her pinfeathers are coming through, but not all of them are ready to be opened yet. She says they'll keep an eye on them and help deal with them later.

After about an hour, Emily has almost fallen asleep sitting there. When Charlie shouts, "All done!" Emily lets out a huge sigh of relief. She falls back into Vaggie's thighs, her head turning to rest near Vaggie's knee. She looks up at her girlfriends, happy, and says, "Thank you so much. I love you guys."

"We love you, too, hon," Vaggie says, patting her head. Charlie beams, leaning down to give Emily a little peck on the tip of her nose. Emily giggles. She closes her eyes, thinking she could likely fall asleep there, just resting on Vaggie's legs.

Suddenly, the very not-so-quiet sound of a click resonates from the other side of the room. All three women look off to the far left, toward the doorway leading into the kitchen. Lucifer is standing there, cell phone in hand, the residual flash of the camera on his phone still shining in their vision.

He fumbles with the phone, and then with his cane, trying to play it cool.

"So--Sorry, girls!" he says, holding his phone and cane behind his back, shuffling his way awkwardly toward the stairs. "Don't mind me! I was just, uhh...on my way to the...to the...yeah."

"Dad!!" Charlie shrieks, face blushing red like a cherry tomato. She climbs over the back of the couch toward him. "Did you take our picture?! Hey, no, get back here!! Give me that phone!!"

Realizing he's been caught, Lucifer rushes toward the stairs, leaping over another chair as Charlie tries to grab him around his tiny waist. He slips through her hands easily, chuckling to himself along the way.

"Sorry, sweetie! No can doo-hoo-hoo!"

"Dad, I swear to your dad that if you don't give me that fucking phone, I'm gonna...!!"

Lucifer cackles, making another swift turn toward the staircase, and Charlie's shoes screech along the floor as she comes to a halt at the foot of it. She books it up the stairs after him, horns peaking through her forehead and tail thrashing in frustration behind her.

"Be right back!" she shouts down sweetly to Emily and Vaggie, before growling and running after her father. The two angels on the couch look at where she disappears over the banister, and then at each other. Suddenly, they roll over laughing, not realizing until now exactly how accurate his nickname of "crooked serpent" really is.

"She's not gonna get that phone back," Vaggie says, sighing in defeat.

"Yeaaaah," Emily says. "That's okay, though. Maybe he can send it to Sera. Let her know we're doing okay."

"That would be nice," Vaggie says. She leans over to give Emily a kiss. Emily beams. Both girls settle back into the couch to finish their movie, while obvious sounds of thumping and crashing reach their ears from upstairs. It's going to be a long night for Charlie.

[mochilatae]

On The Way (Jungkook x Fem Reader)

Word Count: 5.4k (ish)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader/YN

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Public sex, unprotected sex (established relationship), creampie, orgasms (yours and his), intense sex, dirty talk, tension, flirting, kissing (tongue and regular), grinding/humping, nipple play (sucking, biting), licking, light teasing/playful teasing. If I missed anything, so be it ----I usually do!

Genre: Roommates to Lovers, PwP

AUs: Roommate Jungkook/ Roommate BTS

Summary: Just a date night at the movies, with your boyfriend. On the way home is when things change.

Author’s Note: Another one I just wanted to do. I was thinking about how hot it would be to have this kind of encounter with JK and I was in the mood to talk about going out to a movie, so here we are.

Thank you for reading (and ignoring any typos, etc, the usual). I always appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my work.

If you like it and want to tell me, I'd love to know. If you feel like reblogging, it's very much appreciated but never a requirement.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @worldwideseal @kiestrokes

“I can’t believe I got you out of the house and into the theater. It’s a regular miracle.” 

You were only giving Jungkook moderate grief. The truth was a bit more nuanced: he’d been to a movie theater before. It wasn’t that he didn’t like that kind of thing, it was more that you didn’t remember the last time it was just you and him. So this was different AND nice.

“A miracle? …Are you saying I’m a shut-in?” He grinned, drizzling butter over his large popcorn. You watched, mesmerized at the way he kept pumping more and more of the golden liquid as he moved the contents around, spreading the oily coating in various directions. It seemed to go  and on before he was finally satisfied enough. 

You let out a sigh. “No. Come on. I don’t want to miss the previews.” 

“Since when do you like those?” Jungkook chuckled, then plucked a single piece of popcorn off the top and lobbed it past his lips. At least he’d begun to walk and you followed dutifully. Let him interrogate you as long as you both moved in the right direction: theater door 3. 

“Since forever. It’s a great way to see what’s coming up and I always see something I like.” 

“I don’t know if that’s true, Y/n.” 

“Let’s not argue.” You trailed Jungkook to the theater door and he pushed it open, leaving you enough room to duck under and into the darkness. Straight ahead the world swallowed in blackness became semi-coherent as the bright lights of the screen at the far end of the path flashed another theater ad. One of many it rotated through ahead of anything–including your much coveted previews. 

When you sat down, Jungkook dropped into the seat on the right and sorted his drink into the cup holder. Although he was staring at the screen, you could see his silver washed features–and the smirk. 

“..I just think it’s funny..” 

“Oh my god. Koooo.” You withered, slumping into your seat a bit further. The tickle of fingertips stroking the back of that hand resting on the arm made your nerves wobble and relaxed you just as quickly as you’d begun to tense up. 

“You like the previews. I’ll give you that–but you always skip them back at home. Why?” 

“Since it’s that important… I’ve already seen those. It’s pointless.” 

“Right.” Everything about the way that word came from his lips told you he still didn’t quite ‘get it’. But that was okay. What mattered was that you were both here. Together. Alone. The stars and your respective days off finally aligned.

“Are you excited about this movie?” You asked, poking through the popcorn he was working on, ignoring the obvious glare he was shooting your direction. You knew it was all bark, no bite. And it didn’t matter–you couldn’t be any more content. Jungkook could deal with it, as your boyfriend. 

There’d be bigger hurdles in this relationship. Everything was still fairly golden and brand new that the little things were still generally cute and tolerable. 

“I’ll save the hassle of lying and say I don’t even remember the title. Is it a horror film? You talked a lot about the latest ones you wanted to see.” 

“No. But we could go to a scary one–”

“I’m good.” He cut you off, snagging your wrist and bringing the piece of popcorn you’d selected to his mouth. You could hear the chewing over the top 40 hits droning from surround sound speakers. 

A moment later a comically sized drink with straw leaned into your view. “Sip?” 

“I’ve got my own, Koo. Thanks though.” 

“You sure?” The contents sloshed. “It’s Dr Pepper. I know you like that..” 

“Jungkook….” You glanced over, seeing one brow cocked and the other corner of his mouth doing the same. Damn him and his ways. A few beats passed. Finally you signed and leaned close, lips touching the straw. As you swallowed a few mouthfuls, he relaxed back into the seat. 

He didn’t HAVE to say ‘I knew it’. The lowering of his lids screamed that very thing. 

“What do you wanna do after this?” 

“Don’t know. It’s going to be pretty late. We hit the last show of the night. If anything’s open when we get out of here it’ll be a damn miracle.” 

“Maybe.” Jungkook tilted his head, studying the massive screen now painted with a series of trivia questions–the fun and far too easy type. You watched his eyes widen as they scanned each question. His lips were moving, no doubt sounding out the answers. You loved that he was so into trivia like this. 

“We could get lucky..” You continued. “I mean… It’s more time together. Worst case we could just go home and hang out.” 

“In bed?” He made it sound so choice and all he’d done was barely suggest the place you spent a lot of time in every evening, and for far too long on the weekend. Lots of fun was had there. Movies, listening to music…and …other things. 

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there.” 

Jungkook’s knees relaxed wider, then his grip on your wrist transitioned to a slow entwining of fingers as he held your hand. The gesture was so simple and natural. He never hesitated holding your hand, which was something you couldn’t get enough of. Your entire being–especially inside you–softened as your head rested on his shoulder. You could feel the vibration as he spoke. 

“Sounds good to me..” 

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

“I’m really glad we drove..” You yawned, staring ahead as Jungkook drove through towards the theater parking lot exit. He didn’t look over but he did shift gears. You felt the subtle pause in the acceleration as the car downshifted. 

“Me too. I don’t mind walking but sometimes driving is nice. We spend a lot of time walking down town. I mean…we live close enough to everything but..you know.” 

“Agreed. My feet hurt and I really needed to get off them after today.” It’d been the kind of day that had the perfect blend of too long, too busy and too many annoying people. The triple blend that resulted in an uneven mood by the time Jungkook came through the door a few hours ago to collect you and head to the movie. 

He was lucky you’d changed and brushed your hair. You wanted sweats, a tank top and no bra. What he got was nice jeans, a fancy blouse and flats. Your arches were nearly screaming even walking from the theater to the exit and from there to the car. You’d almost asked him to just go get the car while you waited at the curb, but he hadn’t let go of your hand so you dealt with it. 

Jungkook was an aggressive driver but not to a truly dangerous degree. The way he navigated the dark road that wound back towards the heart of the city, you could just check out for a bit and not worry much about an accident or being in the car for too long. Truth be told, you weren’t in the mood for a super cautious speed limit stickler tonight. Thank god he seemed to sense it. 

As you watched buildings slip by in odd shaped shadows or blurs of neon-like streaks you exhaled and the view muddied. 

“Feeling hungry?” Jungkook spoke and it was barely enough to hear after he fiddled with the radio and turned it on, then up. It wasn’t quiet in here but it wasn’t like you’d both have to shout to hear each other. 

“Hmm?” Casting a tired glance his way, you offered a brief smile. “I don’t think so. That popcorn was enough. Are you asking because you’re hungry?” If he was then you had no idea how Jungkook still had the room. He’d tanked his drink, the rest of yours and almost all the popcorn. 

“I’m good for now.” Palm pressing your belly under the seat belt, you shifted back against the seat, enjoying the warmth. 

“Gotcha..” Jungkook replied, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the rearview mirror, then the side mirror. After a few minutes he looked over blatantly, stopped at a red light. You hardly noticed the busy downtown main street when you caught the weight of his stare aimed evenly in your direction. 

“What?” Your lips trembled. 

He barely changed the shape of his lips. “You look really nice tonight.” 

You didn’t roll your eyes. Jungkook wasn’t stingy with his compliments and you learned to accept them, believing he really did mean what he said, compared to anyone else you’d dated–with a few exceptions for their own ends. 

“Thanks.”

His hand had finally released yours and was on the move, settling on your nearer thigh. You looked down but Jungkook was all in on watching your face. After a quick look to verify what he’d done, you met his stare again, noticing how even in the red light glare he managed to look pretty fucking hot. 

That shade of red suited him. 

“I don’t want to go home just yet.” He stated. Not a crime. 

You did like his car and the time with him. It smelled good in here and was toasty warm. The music was good. You could hang out here all night but being in the car without a destination in the plans was kind of…weird. At least that's what you thought any stranger would think was you sat there, with the peripherals of the cross traffic crawling by beyond the windshield. 

“Me either.” You finally agreed. “...Where could we go? It’s nearly midnight.” It was awfully busy on the road tonight but that was a lot in service to it being Friday night and the cusp of a holiday weekend. Plenty of chances to go fill the evening, if drinking and dancing were your cup of tea. 

That could have been you and Jungkook, if you hadn’t had such a long, trying day, but he still seemed content right here, as he was. 

“Do we have to go anywhere?” 

You sighed. “We SHOULD. We can’t sit at this red light forever and we can’t sit in the parking garage at the apartment complex with the car running. I’ve heard horror stories about garages and idling cars. Not the way I want to end my night.” 

Jungkook laughed quietly and nodded, then reached over and changed the station to something more akin to a dark and decadent, quiet storm blend. Something for the grown folks in the city, wanting to wind their night down in bed, but not to sleep.

“How do you want it to end?” He asked.

You felt warm in the chest and it was only crawling higher. Eventually you shifted against the pressure of your seat belt strap.

“I don’t know..” You had an idea. And it was totally fine, seeing as he was your boyfriend, but you wanted to see where he was going with this. Was the energy change the kind you were picking up? “..Did you have something in mind?” 

“Mmhm.” His lips seemed more lush and even carried a kind of darker hue as he leaned closer, bringing his cologne and the dark sway of his silky hair with him. You knew he knew how tempting his bangs were to slide your fingers through and play. He loved it–depending on how you did it, you’d either put him to sleep or make him more vigorous. 

The roaring ache suddenly gnawing between your squeezing thighs made the latter result a fresh hope in your mind. But you kept it hidden well, expression mostly neutral. 

“I want to kiss you. Want more than that, Y/n. Seeing you so into the movie…so focused…” The tip of his nose brushed yours as he inclined his head. Your lids lowered a hint. The hot lines of your lips parted just a little as you gazed into the plump, red lines of his looming mouth, leaning closer still. 

The music swelled as a voice crooned, riding the notes of a song that swayed like hips against you. Like a body gyrating in the dark. Heat licked your chin and the cupids bow at the center of your top lip. 

“Koo…” 

The blast of a horn at your back dragged you backwards into the seat. Jungkook watched, then moved his eyes the direction of the offending sound. A moment later he leaned towards the steering wheel and squinted up at the light–now a vibrant green. 

His foot sunk against the gas pedal. The car purred and surged off the line. 

“What a prick..” He snarled, swallowing.  

“Who knows how long the light was green before they honked.” You ventured, pushing hairs back from your face, fussing over a few strands. Shaking fingers told the tale: Jungkook’s energy was clearly spearheading the night exactly where you suspected. But that didn’t mean you had to follow it right here and now, to the detriment of anyone else’s evening plans. 

Patience was a virtue. Jungkook had very little at times and you made up for it by having enough in reserve. Someone had to keep the control for a bit longer until you made a mutual decision. 

Or admitted what was obviously hanging in the air of this car interior. And what was causing that tight squeeze of fingers into the top of your thigh, massaging firmly. Possessively, slowly creeping higher as Jungkook worked out another smile. 

“Let’s get home. We can figure it out from there.” 

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

You didn’t have to open your door. Jungkook did it for you. 

His own had barely shut and he’d jogged around the car to your side. There was a tenderness in the way he took your hand in spite of the raw energy packing the car interior earlier. If it had been you, Jungkook might have found himself dragged onto the concrete with haste. Whatever cooling off he’d managed to do in the few minutes since the red light, the calm was back on his face.

The streetlight washed you both in a garish white but Jungkook was haloed around the top of his head standing face to face as he smiled. The car door shut although you didn’t remember pushing it. You were losing the grasp of fine detail with Jungkook so near. 

And the coolness of the night air had only briefly chased the agonizing heat from your core. Already it was gathering again. The tightness of his pale green t-shirt and that mostly open hoodie hanging off his broad shoulders didn’t do you any favors. Even ‘slumming it’, your boyfriend was winding your hormones like top, about to send you spinning the moment it was too much.

For all the power he held right now, there was a boyish playfulness in the grin Jungkook flashed, stepping close. Closer than he’d managed in the car–and that was impressive. Your body was responsive, leaning right towards his warmth. 

He paused with a sigh that washed over your upturned face. 

“Y/n..” 

“Hmm?”

“I had a good time..” 

“Can we do this inside the apartment?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows lowered and the heat swarmed in his eyes. “A bit eager, are we?” 

“Eager?” You scoffed. “In case you didn’t notice, at the stop light—” 

“I’m kidding, babe. We COULD.. But..” Jungkook giggled and shook his head. 

You watched him take a slow look around. Nothing about the parking lot around the back of the apartment building had changed. It was still the same mostly empty space as usual in the evening. No doubt the tenants were all out–probably wandering around downtown like you two had done.

“..It’s a long walk to the doors. All the way around to the front. Then we have to wait for the elevator… Who has time for that?” He finished with a hum. 

What mattered was the way Jungkook’s lips curved as he came back to you. A moment later he inched closer and an arm slowly slid around, adding pressure at the small of your back. 

You inhaled and he let out a low grunt. 

“What are you saying?” 

Another sly, sideways glimpse at the night around you and he shrugged. It was his “give no fucks, I’m in a mood and ready to go” energy, full blast. Rolling off him, like the warmth you felt through that thin cotton t-shirt. When your palm touched his chest, Jungkook leaned into that pressure. There was a rumble underneath your palm, palpable through fabric and muscle.

“I’m saying.. I want you. I don’t want to wait.”  

Your legs felt like jelly. Your knees, not much better, going to liquid as Jungkook bullied one of his own through, nudging them further apart. It was wild how he did it while walking you slowly backwards until the cool metal of the car touched the back of your thighs. 

You scrambled for a quick check over one shoulder. When you did, lips dove, touching your jugular. Leave it to Jungkook to know your spot and go right for it. He wasn’t wasting time tonight. It was always hot when he was on a mission and it was pedal to the metal. It just wasn’t something you’d have expected out here, in the apartment complex’s back parking lot. 

But truly, you were alone enough. The closest shapes from here were a few other cars, parked at odd sections close to the corners of the lot. Almost invisible if one didn’t know what to look for like you did. 

“Look around… we’re outside.” 

“Yes.” His shining lips flexed and spread again as he came away from your skin, glaring into your bulging eyes. Even with the cool night air, your skin was burning up. And that wasn’t the only source of heat–between your thighs was impossibly humid and dangerously tight. Not an uncommon reaction to a good looking man of Jungkook’s caliber.

He leaned into you, offsetting your balance with enough body weight listed forward to have you leaning back. And he followed it until you slammed a palm onto the hood. A moment later your ass followed with a bulky thunk. 

Jungkook’s knee rested just outside your calf as you set a foot up on the front bumper. No way he was being moved until the time was right. Until he was good and ready. The things that stirred up inside you…

“This is a parking lot.” 

“Looks pretty desolate to me.” Jungkook replied. 

“It’s our apartment building.” 

“Mhmm..” His eyes began to move down your front as he reached up, letting his hands follow, hugging your sides with a modest, possessive grip. Like he was about to move you just where he might want you. Only one of you needed to know any more than that… and it wasn’t you. 

Your thighs trembled and you tried to squeeze them closer but Jungkook’s knee knocked against the inside of one in warning. His teeth flashed as they sank slowly into his lower lip. 

“Don’t.” He warned. You felt it in your belly. 

“Koo..” You whispered. 

Fingertips stopped at your waist and walked inwards to meet, right at the button on your jeans. He popped it open with a firm sweep of one thumb and pinched the zipper slider then pulled. Slow and steady. 

“Want you..” He repeated, voice lower, the heat in his words coiling from his lips seconds after he’d said them. Jungkook didn’t notice or care that there was a bit of a chill. But maybe that was you. Your skin prickled as goosebumps rose, staring at your thighs and stopping just at your breasts. 

“I know..” You whined. “I like when you want me… I just—can we take it upstairs?” 

“Why? We’re good here.”

“Call it performance anxiety..” You nervously tittered. Jungkook’s serious expression didn’t change as the zipper hit the bottom of the chain. He slipped a few fingers into the new gap and spread the denim more, exposing FAR too much to be in denial any longer. 

“Then don’t worry about performing.” The desire in his stare had changed those soft brown eyes to steel, riddled with pure lust. Usually you saw it from behind the privacy of a closed bedroom door, or at least the apartment door. 

The tip of Jungkook’s tongue glinted as he ran it over his lips, covering especially the small dents left by his teeth. You ached for that cherry colored muscle point to swab your nipples and chase your clit around until he found it and trapped it for a good, long suck. 

“I’ll do all the work, Y/n.” His chin jerked. “Lay back..” 

You sank further against the metal under your ass, feeling the shock of cold metal meeting your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. As you settled, Jungkook pushed fingers under your top and slid up over your breasts, exposing the simple lace of your bra. 

He chuckled with a low growl. “Nice choice, babe. Don’t remember this one.” 

“You didn’t notice when I bought it.” 

“I never do.” One cup shifted down as he leaned over you, blocking out some light from the nearby street lamp well overhead. You didn’t care. Right now the dark didn’t scare you. Getting caught was rapidly being shoved to the back of your mind. “I just like what’s waiting for me under it, every time.” He finished then slipped that exposed nipple between his lips. 

And you arched into the suction, gasping as you gazed up into the night sky. The pulling did its job: making your pussy throb. Muscles inside your core pulled in tandem to his suction. Finally Jungkook’s lips slid free with a lusty pop and he kissed the wet point, then slid across to the other side, freeing that nipple. In a blink he was paying equal attention. 

By the time he was done your ass hit the hood again. This time the whole car bounced lightly and he snorted around the shining point still within reach of his lips. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love that you’re so sensitive. You like when I give these cute nipples attention–and I can’t get enough of that..” His praise was like a warm rain, spilling over you, earning a whine of enjoyment. 

Your fingers groped as the fresh, crisp material of his sleeve, rising up and pulling with it, wrinkling his shirt in your fisting hand as you tugged him closer. He came up, lips locking for a deep, slow kiss. 

He wasn’t wrong. Jungkook was doing all the work and you were just having to lay there and feel. Even out here, on top of his car, you couldn’t do anything BUT absorb all the sensation he was sending through you. It had you on that same predictable path: ultra wet. Squirming against his groin, the firmness there rutting into your mound repeatedly. Bullying you an inch or two up the now-warmed metal. 

Skin lightly pinched as you slid and friction created a pitched squeal. Didn’t matter. It didn’t even feel bad. Every sensation was winding towards an eventual apex: the almighty and much coveted high. An orgasm brewing deep in your pelvis, eager for your boyfriend to fuck it out of you, like he was skilled at doing. 

Like he was born to do. You didn’t joke to your friends that he was the golden ‘man’ just because of how much he liked to indulge in buying food, drinks and gadgets. He took his bedroom game just as seriously. Jungkook didn’t slack on his interests and hobbies. 

It was clear, as he bit and kissed both nipples in turn again, YOU were the greatest of all those things. 

“Baby..” A low, whispered sigh ran the line up from your navel as he looked to your face, lips glossy. Cheeks ruddy. Nose shining at the end, peering through a tangle of dark bangs. You could only just manage to keep your head off the hood to meet his eyes. 

“...Yeah.” 

He gave a firm tug, then pulled at your jeans with a few quick jerks, enough to bring them down to your calves. Enough to let your legs fall wide. More than enough when he licked a massive stripe right up over your covered folds, making your eyes screw shut. 

“Roll over for me.” 

Given enough room, with limited leg mobility, you flopped most ungracefully onto your belly, right where your back had been. At least the surface was tolerable now–even a little slick with the beginnings of sweat, somehow. 

His thumbs caressed evenly down, following the seams of your panties over both cheeks, then brought the material in, then guided it off to one side, tucking it over the round of your left cheek. Adding a subtle swat, his lips sucked a wet kiss against the small of your back and he spoke into the skin.

“Ass up a little more, Y/n. You know that’s not the right angle.” 

“Jesus…fuck..” You moaned into the metal, uncaring that the sound seemed to radiate out and race into the night in any and all directions. Your ass lifted and your hips tilted, changing the angle. Rustling followed. A zipper descended as the car wobbled more obviously. Jungkook’s knees resituated, planting on either side of your hips, just low enough. 

A broad, thick point swept up between your thighs. Jungkook’s fingers curled over your hip, then tightened as he leaned further over your prone body and braced a palm into the hood near your shoulder. He drew in a deep breath. 

“There we go..” As he spoke the pressure settled over your opening, then focused there a hundred fold, until you spread around his plunging cock. He didn’t take short strokes to ease himself in. It was a single, long thrust and he’d seated himself all the way. 

Plugged to the hilt, Jungkook’s hips rolled a little, then he settled into a pace you were familiar with. One that was just ‘right’ between your bodies. A natural tempo that found its way early tonight. Jungkook used the car’s swaying to counter his thrusts, letting your body come up into every driving pump in his hips. Sounding you so deep inside. It had you squeezing harder and harder as the minute flew by. 

Your fingers dug against metal. Dragged down with another peal of wet skin shrieking over the dry surface. You swallowed. His firm thrust forced a moan out of you, over and over. The car’s rocking and subtle creaks were no match for the panting at your nape as Jungkook moved his lips there, nibbling. Kissing. Biting. 

Swearing as he rammed the soft roundness of your ass, he huffed as the pace picked up. He was going faster. Deeper. Changing his strokes up to be long and lazy, then sharp and quick. With a particularly rough plunge, your pussy clenched in warning and you howled out. 

“Koo..I…I’m..” 

“I know baby..” Although his tone was tender, the pace didn’t change. He was going for broke, driving into you with the same steady movement. Jungkook saw what was rising in the front of your vision, beyond the gauzy reflection in the windshield. Beyond the oblong shapes of yellow lamp light swaying right in front of your nose. 

He saw the wave rising inside you and met it as you sucked in a lungful of air and melted, cumming finally. Squeezing him so hard you didn’t care he was breakneck, brutal in how he pummeled at your rippling pussy as you fell apart. 

It went on forever and ever, or at least that’s what your brain told you as the world faded for a bit, only to sharpen again as fingers looped around your neck to rest just under your chin and pull back. Like he knew you and your body responses, you knew Jungkook was doing as he wanted: tilting your head back to kiss you as he found his orgasm, stuttering to a stop and pushing deep. Holding it through every pulse, lashing his tongue between your lips. 

Pulling away eventually, he let you lay there, essentially face down, damp cheek pressed to the hood. The tight band of the panties had your skin throbbing as it dug, biting into skin that you suddenly became terribly aware of and desperate to remedy. 

“Come on..” His voice nudged the back of your ear and preceded a gentle haul of the panties and jeans up to your hips. He had good precision, mostly sorting them in their rightful spots, all things considered. 

Jungkook was even more careful, pulling you up right, off the hood and into his arms. It was nice right now considering how useless your legs felt standing there, shaking against his pressed front as you caught your breath, taking mouthfuls of rapidly chilling evening air. It was vaguely Jungkook flavored, which you didn’t mind. 

Suddenly you felt so parched. All you could think about was upstairs, your favorite giant plastic cup and the water waiting in the fridge, freshly Brita filtered. Jungkook took his time to study your face as you finally found your senses and words. 

Your head lolled back as you managed to gaze up with an easy smile. A wasted smile. Absolutely, positively dick drunk. No doubt. No shame. What was he going to do? Call you on it? 

“Did you get your pants back up or are you still…tackle out?” 

Jungkook’s face twisted to a mournfully offended look but it was one of the worst fake ones he’d ever done in all the history of time that you knew him. 

“That’s a funny way to say ‘Thanks’ and ‘I love you’.” 

“Well you know I like what you do to me. And do you REALLY need me to say I love you?” 

The brief pout suited his plump lips so well. It was why he got away with so much nonsense with you. He just deployed that doughy pout and you were at a disadvantage. One you didn’t have the energy or heart to really complain about. 

“I mean..it helps. I did just make you cum.” 

“It’s not like that’s a challenge for you..” 

“True.” Jungkook’s nose wrinkled and he leaned in, touching your cheek with his lips in a quick peck. He nuzzled afterwards, then continued. “What can I say? I couldn’t help it tonight.” 

“At least it wasn’t on the sidewalk on the way in.” You groused, enjoying the warmth of his exhaled breath rolling down your neck. He followed it, kissing down to your collarbone, then took a step back and took your hand. Jungkook made a show of looking down at himself.

“See?” As he waved a hand in front of his waist you saw: pants done. Zipper up. Button perfectly in place. You didn’t dignify that with a response, only tossing your hair briefly with a weary sigh and squeezed his hand. 

You stumbled forward with a yelp as Jungkook turned away, fingers laced, heading for the alley that led around from the parking lot to the front of the building. And the lobby doors. That meant warmth. Comfort. Familiarity. All things that meant Jungkook too.  

Coming around to the front and seeing it blessedly dead of any living soul, you felt a weight off your shoulders. No one was out front which meant less chance anyone had seen. And there’d been no lights on in any of the windows facing the parking lot either, so you were reasonably certain enough that no one had heard either. 

Nearly at the doors to the building you spoke once more. 

“You know..you missed a golden opportunity.” You hated to chide him, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Did I?” Jungkook’s dreamy smile stayed pasted on as his head turned your way. “Do tell.”

“You COULD have chosen the elevator. Much more..risque.” 

“Who said it’s not in my plans?” 

“If you think I’m getting on there with you now just for you to—”

“Y/n..” Jungkook tutted. “I didn’t say now. I won’t say when, but…not tonight. I can behave…when I want to.” You’d always believed and suspected it, in spite of what his wild child ways might have tried to imply on most days. 

“We can talk about it, if you REALLY want to know more.” He said then grazed the back of a few knuckles on your hand as he brought your shared grip close to his lips, then kept them there. “..On the way up. I’ll leave it up to you this time.”

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Kinktober Day 13: Restraints with sub!Hyunjin

Trigger warnings:

Content warnings: restraints (rope, thigh spreader bar), names (miss, baby, angel, honey, darling, sweet boy, good boy), prostate massage, praise, little bit of hair pulling if you squint, mc gets possessive, jinnie’s just a desperate boy

Summary: He just looks so pretty when he’s completely at your mercy…

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“You sure about this? I mean, you can call it quits at any time, I just wanna make sure you’re entirely comfortable with the whole thing.”

“Relax, y/n, I’m positive. I’ve wanted to try it out for a while but I finally got the nerve to ask you after you pinned me down last week - which, by the way, was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” He grinned at you as he sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the rope before placing it beside him. “Besides, I convinced you to buy all this stuff, it’s only sensible that we get at least one use out of it.” He added, though he knew he’d enjoy it far too much to only do it once.

He didn’t give you a chance to ask any further questions as he stood and tugged his shirt off. You let out a sigh as you watched, taking in his slender form. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your waist, looking down at you with a fond smile when you slid your hands up his biceps and over his shoulders. Finally, you tangled your hand in his long dark hair and pulled him down for a kiss.

His pillowy lips felt like heaven against yours and you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into the plush flesh there, earning a small sound of appreciation from him. Your grip on his hair tightened in an attempt to make him whine and you were pleasantly surprised when he pulled you closer, pressing his half-hard dick against you. Your hand that rested on his shoulder until now slipped down his body as you backed away to create just the smallest amount of space between you.

You flattened your palm across the front of his tight black joggers, swallowing the moan he let out into your mouth. You felt him harden under your touch as you ran your hand along his length and his breath hitched when you gripped him through his pants and gave a gentle squeeze. You pulled back and looked up at him with a challenging grin, waiting for any further reaction. When none came, you began to stroke him through the thick cotton and tugged his head back so you could kiss along his jaw.

He made another small sound when your teeth grazed his skin. It was adorable how quickly he fell apart from just a few rough touches. “How pretty…I wonder how many more of those noises I can pull out of you…” You teased. “How about we find out?” You muttered against his neck and he shivered.

He abruptly pulled back and sat on the bed again, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please?” He knew how much you liked it when he begged and he fully intended to come across as increasingly desperate so you’d call him a good boy.

“Middle of the bed.” You hummed with a hint of a smile. He eagerly obeyed and centered himself on the bed before laying back on the pillows. You’d spent hours studying and practicing during the last week and by now you knew how to tie basic handcuffs and anchor them to his waist so he couldn’t move his arms. You’d attempted to learn how to bind his legs but realized it would require a lot more practice than you had time for, so you stuck with the simple cuffs and the thigh spreader bar you didn’t know he’d ordered until it showed up on your doorstep two days after he asked you to restrain him.

You quickly tied the knot and held the loops up to examine your work before motioning for him to sit up. He sat up and held out his hands, which you quickly passed the loops over. You tightened down the knot and then tied another to secure it before taking the ends and feeding them around his sides to his back. You moved behind him and tied a quick surgeon’s knot, cinching the rope around his waist so it wasn’t so tight that it would hurt him but enough that he couldn’t wriggle free. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched when you pulled the rope tight. “You can lay back down now, honey.” You said as you moved from the bed.

He did as he was told, getting comfy while you grabbed the spreader bar from where he’d placed it by the dresser. You came back and laid it on the mattress, crawling onto the bed and straddling his lap a moment later. “Hi.” He whispered as you caged him in and leaned down, a shy smile appearing on his lips.

“Hi.” You whispered back and pecked the tip of his nose. He scrunched his nose cutely as you pulled back to admire him. “You ready, Jinnie?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper as you lightly caressed his jaw with your knuckles while propping on one hand. He leaned into your touch and nodded, shivering slightly.

You leaned down and stole a quick kiss before moving to trail your lips down his neck. He was somewhat miffed when you pulled away so quickly but was pacified the second you licked over his pulse point. He let out a hum of appreciation as you littered his neck and shoulders with kisses, gasping every time you nipped at his skin. He was extremely reactive and it only fueled you as you moved lower. When you reached his chest, you couldn’t help but suck a mark into his tan skin, right over his heart. “You’re mine. You know that right?”

He whimpered at your possessive words and the way your lips felt on his skin and nodded vigorously. “All yours.” He agreed and you pressed one last kiss to the hickey before sitting up. You moved off his lap and reached for the waistband of his joggers and he swiftly lifted his hips to help you undress him.

You pulled them off with his underwear in one go and he let out a sigh as his cock sprang free, twitching when you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hip. “Legs apart.” You instructed as you grabbed the spreader bar from behind you and moved down the bed.

His cheeks went a soft pink color as he spread his legs, flustered at the idea of opening himself up to you like this. You found it amusing how shy he was getting when you’d already done far more intimate things with him during the course of your relationship.

You wrapped the soft cuffs around his thighs and made sure the Velcro was secure before giving his knees a gentle squeeze. “Tell me if you need to stop.” He nodded and you let your hands slide upwards until you reached his dick.

He whined quietly as you wrapped a hand around his length and you shushed him with a soothing hand on his hip. You leaned over and let a string of spit drip down onto the already-leaking head of his cock, spreading it around with your hand a moment later. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as you began to work his dick, squeezing the head on the upstroke and swiping your thumb over the tip teasingly.

He made a choked sound when you closed your mouth around just the tip, your hand working the rest while your tongue swirled around the head. His hips bucked involuntarily when you pressed your tongue against the slit. You swatted his thigh and he rushed out an apology, lifting his head from the pillows to look at you. You felt him twitch at the sight that greeted him and smirked as you pulled off.

“Why don’t you let me make you see stars, baby? Does that sound good?”

“Yes! Yes, please, y/n…” he moaned and you winked at him before settling on your belly between his legs. You grabbed the bar so he didn’t try to move and wet two fingers. Pressing one to his hole, you looked up to gauge his reaction to your teasing and massaging.

Slowly, you pushed a finger into him and kissed his thigh when you noticed his eyebrows drawn down. You couldn’t tell if it was concentration or discomfort so you took more care just to be on the safe side. “You’re doing so well, sweet boy.” You cooed, watching as his expression shifted and he smiled to himself at the praise. “How do you feel?”

“So good…” He breathed out, wiggling his hips when he felt fully relaxed around your finger. “Can I have another?” He asked bashfully and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him down so you spit directly on his hole. You were careful as you added your middle finger, stretching him open.

He let out a beautiful moan when you curled your fingers and pressed against his prostate with practiced ease. This is what you meant by far more intimate positions.

It didn’t take long to have him writhing beneath you, he was always so responsive. “I want you to tell me what you feel, darling.” Really, you just wanted to hear him try to talk while you finger-fucked him.

“It’s the best feeling in the world.” He moaned, wrists tugging against the rope. “Second only to making you cum.”

“Yeah? You like pleasing me that much?” You hummed as you dragged your fingers out of him only to plunge them back inside, earning a pathetic whimper as his back arched slightly.

“U-uh huh.” He nodded enthusiastically, chest rising and falling rapidly with his erratic breathing. “Love doing everything I can to make you feel good. Love you so fucking much, gotta take care of you.” He was getting close to incoherency and you felt pride bubble up in your chest.

“Except when you let me take care of you, right, baby?” He nodded quickly, agreeing to everything you said in the hopes that you would reward him by speeding up. He knew, of course, that it was true. He knew he allowed you to take care of him from time to time. But words barely held any meaning to him as you repeatedly teased his prostate. “You look so pretty right now, Jinnie.” You sighed dreamily, turning to press your lips against his thigh.

“Yeah?” You hummed an affirmation and he smiled a little. “Fuck ‘m already close, y/n…” He warned, attempting to grind down into your touch.

“I can see that. You’re trembling.” You noted, amusement clear in your voice. You knew he was dangerously close to letting go after only a few minutes with your fingers inside him, based solely on the way his breathing changed and his neglected cock twitched. “It’s cute.”

You kissed his thigh once more before speeding up your thrusts and he helped in surprise. “Oh fuck! Oh ‘m gonna cum- feels so fucking good-” He panted, lifting his head from the pillows to look at you for a brief moment before laying back once more. “Can I, miss? Please?” He begged and you felt a fresh wave of arousal crash over you at the title.

“Cum for me, Jinnie.” You cooed, barely getting the words out before he was spilling across his stomach. He let out a series of pretty moans and whimpers, body shaking as you helped him ride out his orgasm. “That’s right, baby. Good boy.” You coached. You only relented when he let out a pathetic cry, writhing under your touch as he tried to escape the pleasure you were giving him.

You finally pulled back and sat up between his legs after a moment of pressing kisses to both his thighs. “So, so fucking pretty.” You sighed before getting up to pick his shirt up off the floor. You wiped him down and he offered an appreciative smile before puckering his lips expectantly. You pecked them, then grinned teasingly at him. “‘Miss’, huh?”

“Sorry…” He muttered, blushing as he looked away.

“No, don’t be. It’s cute. I liked it.” You assured him, urging him to look at you. You felt your heart swell as he looked up at you with stars in his eyes. The warm-fuzzies were quickly overshadowed by your need to get off and you straddled his lap. “I have a question for you though.”

“Yes?”

“I want the whole neighborhood to know you’re mine, angel. Think you can cry that loud for me?”

“Yes, miss.” He nodded, stifling a moan when you pulled your panties to the side and lowered yourself onto his sensitive cock. You weren’t giving him a break tonight.

<-d-12 | d-14->

[streets-in-paradise]

i am back,once again!!

i’m srry i had to

anywayyyyy

okay so i got this idea,could u write about some cute moments between achilles and (fem)reader who loves the beach/anything that has to do w the sea?maybe like a drabble or smth??idk if this is vague but lmk

hahaha, hi!!

( woow, you pick your graphic intros and everything. that shows dedication i love it 💕)

Absolutely, I can do this.

Also, this will be super fitting because, despite the movie left it up to interpretation, his mom is a nereid (greek deity of the sea). When he is not fighting the job of Achilles is beach lol.

It turned out longer than a drabble because I kept thinking on your Achilles x girly/fashionista reader ask from last time and it kinda influencied me into doing a full oneshot mixing bits of both ideas.

Sea lover reader is also a capital city girl moving to Phthia who is quite girly and with a bubbly personality, enjoy <3

The Waves' Caress - Achilles x (Fem) Reader

Warnings: Mention to the sociopolitical things going arround in the Greece of the film ( Agamemnon's imperialism and the big picture civilizatory plan he mentions to Nestor in the scene where he convinces him of calling Achilles through Odysseus.)

Tags: @zoegarfield @lovelybaka

Vocabulary note: Strophion is an ancient times equivalent of a strapless bra, piece of greek clothing that can be imagined to resemble a bathing suit.

A deep love for the sea had allways been a part of you, so wherever fate would take you it was your hope to forever remain near the beach. Movings weren't usual in your life, used as you were to a comfortable lifestye in Mycenae as the daughter of a royal scribe. However, your father was a functionary for an empire in constant expansion. Official scribes were required everywhere to keep registered records and contribute to public order. The pretended civilizatory mission of King Agamemnon counted with that, so it wasn't a great surprise to hear he intended to relocate him on the most conflictive territory of his domains.

Myrmidons had a fame of being the fiercest soldiers of Greece, and his disdain for their strongest local leader was a threat to the very core of the order he intended to establish. Raising the mycenaean presence on the region was his idea to balance things. Populating through migrations of qualified officials and their families was his idea to stabilize politics and he was quite proud of it. So much that he even took the iniciative telling your family about it by himself, never missing the chance of doing awkward jokes only he would find funny.

As he charmingly enlisted the perks of his new position to your father, he punctualized one single downside. With his attention shortly deviated on you, Agamemnon playfully warned him to watch over his beautifull daughter from Achilles and his men.

The attempt of polite praise failed, but you pretended to go on with it to avoid upsetting him. Not surprised, but crushed by the news, all you did was asking if your new home had sight of the sea.

Phthia was a rocky territory where mountains were more abundant than fields, but it also had increíble beaches that became your only comfort in the arrival. As peacefull representatives of an occupation force, your presence was inpopular. Among the multiple functions of scribes there were a few that could be considered benefitial for the community, but your father was also supposed to work with those in charge of keeping track of the taxing.

It was obvious that the king wanted the handfull of new functionaries to handle a situation previous administrators couldn't control efficiently, that you were perfectly fine back in your birth city and adaptation was going to be a struggle.

Feeling more lonely than ever, in a position where you didn't feel comfortable trying to make new friends, all you had were your long walks on the beach.

The caress of the waves was comforting for you, and the salty tears of homesickness felt small mixing in them. Hoping that your sorrow could be temporally washed away, you would often speak out loud as if the forces ruling the water could hear you.

It was about presenting yourself with your fears, your dreads, begging for strenght and bringing small offers so the minor divinities populating those shores would get used to your presence. If mortals weren't going to make you feel welcome for obvious reasons, you could at least develop roots in the land bonding in a spiritual way.

At one given time, you tossed a silver ring for the waves to swallow. A really expensive one that you ripped from your finger with disgust, careless of what your father would say about that. That was your way of showing the local gods that you weren't Interested in the spoiling of their land, and if you had to stay, you wanted to find a spot to belong in doing good.

Lost as you were in your thoughts and prayers, you completely ignored there was a man watching you.

He noticed, and didn't waste time in making you realize of his presence.

" I'm an expert on anger and this doesn't look good. What happened? Did the man who gave it to you failed in behaving as he should? "

You turned back following the sound, only to discover the mesmerizing image of a blond man with piercing blue eyes. Blue as deep as the sea, captivating and haunting. His simple garments, vest and skirt of matching blue tones, made him look like a marine god coming at you.

" There is no man making me suffer other than my king. Unless seaking revenge on his orders, I doubt any myrmidon would want to get close enough for that. "

He smiled with skepticism, almost as if he taunted you.

" I would give you one afternoon in a tavern to prove it wrong. "

You couldn't help smiling and that only encouraged him to get closer pacing calmly in your direction.

" People come and go arround here, but I have a good memory for pretty girls … I guess you must be new. "

The flirting, way faster than what you were used to, was yet consented and very much appreciated. However, you feared the response you had for him would ruin everything.

" My father is the new royal scribe: we just moved and I have nowhere to belong here yet, except for this beach. "

The clarification soften him instead of sending him away.

" I was born here and still belong nowhere, only the sound of the waves bring me clarity. "

That subtle comfort was sweet enough to mean something without breaking the appearance of mightyness.

" I don't seek isolation, but stumble with it for unwillingly representing the evil deeds of Agamemnon. "

He got to close, close enough to smell the scent of your hair mixed with the breeze caressing it.

" I fight his wars, but never do it for him. He is not my king and as long as you are here he doesn't have to be yours either. "

He said enough to be recognized and the name came out softly from your lips.

" Achilles … "

The warrior smirked as a confirmation.

" i have been warned against you: Agamemnon told my father in front of me that you are the doom of every woman. "

Description that had clearly amused him.

" Did you believe it? "

He wanted to know if you were willing to give him a chance of proving himself.

Lost in him as you were, no voice of reason would have made you deny him that.

" It's too early to fall in any assumptions. "

His hands were cassually resting on his hips, eyes glancing at the sea as if he tried to reclaim a lost capacity for keeping distance.

" I come here often, maybe you will find time to form your own perceptions of me. "

An invitation to let him join you that you accepted in a heartbeat. Company was a great improvement and your attraction to him did get you trustfull with ease. The way in which you took his hand in your walk back into the water told him all he needed to know regarding the kind of girl you were.

Bright and pure, so innocent that he was still twirling his mind arround the lively attitude you began to show as fast as you felt safe arround him. There were no traces left of the angry sad girl he reached out to once her loneliness was disrupted.

All smiles for him, even more beautifull than before in his eyes.

More encounters kept happening and the thing wasn't left at random. Since you agreed to see each other with the excuse of your beach walks, the marine wildness became witness of your infatuation.

Without realizing of the meaning in his actions, Achilles began searching for you in every corner of the city hoping to cross ways in the middle of your daily activities. His gaze would search you in the crowds with very little success, making him crave more and more for the next secret meeting.

As most refined girls from the big city, you were one putting great care into your appearance. The pressure for beauty among rich nobles have shaped you that way, but he could tell you were a humble young woman whose harmless vanity couldn't be mistaken for shallowness. You also happened to be very well instructed, prepared to talk of any topic one would bring to you for conversation and always delivering a charming sensitivity into the talk. He sincerely thought you deserved a chance to be loved among his people regardless for the bunch of political servant fools you had arrived with.

Perhaps, because he himself adored you.

With the progression of your meetings evolving into implicit beach dates more surprises kept happening.

Achilles got to find out what that linen dyed of blue he found you buying at the market was for when you showed up one day in a cute match of strophion and skirt that left him breathless.

His blue eyes roamed your figure like the waves's caressing, yet you didn't seem to notice the impact you had on him and quickly ran towards him with your usual lovely carefreeness.

You clinged for a hug rounding his waist with your arms.

" Achilles! Want to go swimming? I came prepared this time. "

The sweetness of your tone made him feel almost guilty for enjoying the moment so much.

" I see, you look like a siren ready to raid the shore. "

The weird compliment made you giggle and excitement pushed you to show off, freeing him to give proper space for him to watch you.

" Do you like it? In Mycenae I used to go swimming with my friends, so my mother allowed me to make a new attire for swimming inspired by the local colour in order to feel more in home … Although I never told her who was my real inspiration."

Your attempt of souding suggestive was too cute and he couldn't resist the tenderness.

" It's perfect, you look so beautifull it's painfull to look at directly … "

Achilles interrupted himself, only to deliver his conclussion in a whisper.

" … And I love knowing you were thinking of me. "

Heat started reaching your face, but you tried to sustain the bravery that got you there.

" I'm always thinking of you. Mother says it seems my head is on some cloud, but in fact it is on the sea. "

Lovefull words started flowing from you with ease simply by staring at him for too long.

" On your eyes, that seem made of it. All its misterious charm compacted in one glance … and I wonder how is that even possible. When we meet, I mistook you for a god of the deepness. An inmortal servant of Poseidon answering my prayers. "

His eyes followed the soft features of your face with discrete adoration.

" You are the miracle I never expected, sweet girl of a love so pure that it's drowning my heart. "

Silently and relentlessly, the few distance between you dissapeared. Achilles held you by the waist and you caressed his cheeks into your first kiss. Although the breeze should have cooled you down, you were feeling your while body on fire and nothing could have stopped it.

As soon as you released each other you made him chase you into the water so the caresses of the waves on your skin would mix with his. Catching you took him a bit because you kept diving away as part of the game, but when he got you in his arms he refused to let you go.

Once you had enough fooling arround, he proved to have one more surprise for you.

His seashell necklace, that he colocated on you after filling the spot with kisses while you were drying together near the shore.

Words weren't enough to thank him, but you tried anyways.

" It's so beautifull! How did you know I wanted one like yours? I was trying to make one myself, but i'm collecting only the prettiest shells I find for it. "

Your reaction caused him a blissfull pride.

" Keep mine, I want you to have it. This way, my men would know you are mine without mycenaeans realizing. A subtle symbol that will make myrmidons respect you. "

The explanation got you even more excited, but you also felt a sudden sense of shame.

" I have nothing to give you in return. "

Achilles chuckled, as if he knew something you didn't.

" Wrong again, pretty one. "

With the cocky comment, he exposed his hand showing off a detail you didn't notice before.

Your silver ring on his finger.

" Impossible! I tossed it away for the deities to take, it should be resting deep in the ocean. "

Achilles enjoyed himself with your child-like amazement.

" Tomorrow, I will take you to see the most beautifull point of our shores. One you don't know yet, where no one dares to go, and there you will meet the one who gave it back to me. "

It confused you even more, but that was understandable.

Achilles was aware you had no idea that you had already won the good sight of his mother with your thoughtfull prayers and sincere love for her essential element.

It was him the one who still had hard work to do in order to charm your parents.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

would you maybe consider doing Gareth HC where he’s shy about you being bold in asking him out/showing your interest in him

i would love to do something like this 🥰🥰🥰

Gareth was never used to being the kind of guy that girls flock to, it was something he’d become well accustomed to

He always tried his hardest to be a boy that girls would be interested in, but it seemed like none of his efforts really worked

He was sweet and always acted like a gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs, being respectful and trying to keep up with his appearance like all the other good looking guys in school

He knew that those things didn’t mean that those girls were required to give him anything in return, but he assumed that sooner or later he’d have at least one girl interested in him

You always acted the same as the other girls did around him, albeit a bit more kind

You wouldn’t consider yourselves to be friends, but you weren’t exactly not friends?

You’d been going to school together since kindergarten and watched each other grow into the people you were now, sharing a few classes here and there, and every now and then you’d see each other outside of school and talk for a minute before going your separate ways

He was always very sweet, and even better, he always looked a little nervous when he talked to you

And that gave you a little crush on him too

The only time the two of you got to spend together that was longer than a few minutes was when you got paired up for school projects

He would be completely oblivious to your attempts at flirting too

Moving a little closer to him in your seat, being the one to bring up your assignment to the front of the room so he could watch you walk up and down the room, looking so sweetly at him whenever he was helping to explain a few things in class you didn’t understand

The blush on his cheeks was so bright whenever you did that

But for some reason he never took the opportunity to ask you out

Maybe that was something you had to do, just to get the ball rolling

Oh well, nothing wrong with making the first move, right?

You approached him in the hall after class one day, catching him by surprise as you tapped his shoulder

That day during class, you had been dropping every hint possible to him

Telling him you had no plans for the night, or the weekend in general, saying there was a new movie out that you maybe wanted to go see or a new restaurant that you wanted to check out, talking about the cute new clothes you bought but not having an occasion to wear them to

Boys could be so oblivious sometimes

He turned to you and was taken back when you said it so suddenly

“Do you want to take me out this weekend?”

It took him a moment to process what you were asking him, and he was quite shocked that you were the one to initiate it

All his life he thought he had to be the one to try and get other girls to like him enough where he could ask them out, but it was nice to be the one that was asked

He’ll get a little overwhelmed with excitement and blurt out a quick “Yes!” before he has time to collect his thoughts

“Good! You can pick me up at 7:30 tonight, we’re gonna go see that movie i told you about.”

You were all smiles and he froze when you approached him and kissed his cheek

You gave him a quick wave goodbye before walking down the hall to your next class, and he was just frozen in place trying to analyze what just happened

Though you couldn’t see it, he was smiling from ear to ear

He finally had a pretty girl that wanted to go out with him

And he didn’t even have to do anything!

tags: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @aidansloth @esme-viridian @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent

[aristocratic-otter]

Welp, I wasn't going to post today...but then I realized that the final chapter of Heart in the Well will go up before Sunday, and that'll render the excerpt I carefully picked out obsolete by then. So I scrambled to pick bits from my other stories just so I could post this one excerpt. Go me!

The good news about Heart being done? I've got a new WIP plotted out that I'm super excited about, but I wouldn't let myself write anything until one of my WIPs finished. So next week or the week after, you should see the first words from that fic, a very very angsty Watford era canon divergence.

In the mean time, thank you to : @monbons, @messofthejess, @rimeswithpurple, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress,

@nausikaaa, @youarenevertooold, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @j-nipper-95, and

@facewithoutheart for the tags over the last two weeks. I'm having so much fun reading and watching your stories and art. This is such an incredibly talented fandom, it's endlessly inspiring. Plus, I get to meet some of you soon when I see Rainbow in August!

Here's my teasers for this week:

Here’s one from each of my official WIPs

From Saving Simon Snow: 

I shake my head now, thinking about it. I’ll just have to keep close to Simon, or at least, as close as he’ll allow me. At least my vampire anatomy gives me an advantage there; I can listen to what’s happening with Simon from three rooms away (I won’t, unless it’s a matter of his safety. It’s a gross invasion of his privacy otherwise) (fortunately, I had to learn to tune out the chatter of my peers by my 2nd year at Watford, or I would have gone mad). 

From the Heart in the Well

He looks back at me and then frowns. “Well, come on then,” he says, impatiently. 

“Come on, what?” I say, exasperated. The water’s up to my breastbone now, and I’m starting to feel a little panicky, so my voice comes out higher pitched than I’d like. 

Now, he rolls his eyes. “I need your tie,” he says as if it were obvious. It was not obvious. “Take it off, please.” At that, I shiver a little. I never thought there’d be a day where Simon Snow would be telling me to take off my clothes.

From Snow Fox: Penny, learning you can’t go home again (especially if you’ve signed on with the Snow Fox)

I step onto the road and walk briskly towards the house I grew up in. I can tell when I’ve been noticed. Several heads swivel my direction, and the murmur of conversation in the camp ceases. I keep on as if I haven’t noticed however. As I draw closer, I nod distractedly at some of the boys nearer to my path. They don't nod back. They’re watching me with narrowed eyes and I shudder internally. What do they see when they look at me?

From TikTok Dancer: Quite a bit racier than what I usually post, but still Tumblr legal, I think

Years from now, if I, for some odd reason, try to explain how my first time having sex felt, I won’t be able to. There’s no describing it.  I’m planning to get a degree in words, for fuck’s sake, but right now, all language has left me, sailed back to England probably. I’m left with caveman grunts and desperate whines. Every particle of sensation in my body has gathered between my legs, and every atom of will I have left is devoted to an attempt to meld my body with his. I’ve almost succeeded–we’re nearly one creature now, moving in frantic, panting unison. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

I know he’s been looking for me. I know he’s probably forgiven my great sin. He shouldn’t. Forgiveness requires that the person who receives it is contrite, is sorry for what they’ve done. 

I’m not sorry. I’d do it again today, if the circumstances were the same. 

Even being estranged from the only person in this world that I care about is still better than the permanent separation that would result if we were rescued. 

I believe that we’ll be friends again someday. Some day when the pain in my chest and stomach have dulled. And that day is worth waiting for.

From Cupid’s Shield:

I’m left gaping at where he just stood. It’s suddenly clear to me how much of his vampire abilities Baz has been hiding, because I was looking right at him. 

I never saw him move. 

All I know is suddenly he’s above me, and my arms are above my head and prisoned to the bed by his hands clamped around my wrists. I’m so stunned that I don’t even struggle. 

His knees are on either side of my hips, and he’s staring down at me like I’m his next meal. 

From my COBB project:

I know I should be worrying over tomorrow, and what my team will face out there. And I will be worrying over that—tomorrow. Tonight, I’m far more worried about the hours ahead. Hours of, once again, sharing a room with the only man I’ve ever loved. A man who’s never looked at me as anything other than a posh prick. 

That’s my fault, of course. It could have been different, all those years ago, when we first met at Watford Uni. I was excited, back then, to meet my roommate. Excited, and nervous. I freely admit I’ve had a privileged upbringing, and this would be the first time I’d ever shared a room. 

My childhood was mostly lonely, so I didn’t mind the idea. I’d thought it’d be nice to always have someone nearby to talk to. 

Of course, everyone knows how that turned out.

As others have said recently, please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged and I'll take you off of my tag list. Unless I hear otherwise, I assume you're like me, and like to hear from people even if you're not feeling like sharing yourself.

Tags and cheers to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash,

@moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee,

@tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix,

@shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16,

@noblecorgi, @hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,  @cutestkilla,

@theearlgreymage, @alexalexinii, @prettygoododds, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch,

@Iamamythologicalcreature, @emeryhall, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon 

[what-have-i-unleashed]

alone on a friday night? me too!

(early) birthday gift to @freakstertoff. this thing is freaky so i'm tagging this account of yours lol

note: i don't know much about the epic sanses so treat this as ooc as far as i'm concerned.

(cw: voyeurism/exhibitionism, some vague smut description)

"hey, you're epic, right?"

epic turns his head and sees another skeleton with strange markings down his eyes. his white eyelights have a light orange hue to them. both of them are standing in the only administration building left standing in the omega timeline right now. with a huge influx of refugees from a multitude of universes, all the workers here are frantically accommodating everyone and answering every question. epic pities them - he should feel lucky to not have a service job in his life up til now.

"who's asking?" epic asks his sudden inquirer, his hands in his pockets, as his coat billows in the invisible wind. the other skeleton looks at him with a twitch in his eye ridge.

"call me delta," he says. "seems like they're putting us in the same temp house."

"oh, you're my roommate, bruh!" epic exclaims. "wait, there should be another with us, right?"

"he's with me already," delta says, leading epic out of the crowded area. "his name's color by the way."

and epic can understand why he's named that. the dude is positively flashing rainbow colors, a real epilepsy warning. not to mention the crack he has on the side of his skull where fires are coming out constantly. so he's a fire hazard too - cool!

"i know, he's fucking awesome," delta grins, gesturing at color.

"ayo, bruh, mind the color-ful language, would ya?" epic says with a smile on his face, as delta turns to him and color snickers behind his hand. it is a nice sound, epic absentmindedly notes.

"... oh stars, you're also into puns," delta groans. and epic laughs.

"whaaaat? a sans not into jokes? you're a riot, a true rebel, bruh," he puts his arm over delta's shoulders, smiling wide. "we'll get along just fine."

epic was told by a harried service worker that it should take about two months before a permanent house can be provided to him. so for now he has to share a temporary flat with delta and color for the time being. the flat is smaller than he expected, with one modest kitchen and a living room with a small dining area. there's only one bedroom as well as one bathroom. at least there are bunk beds with quite some space in the bedroom. epic claims the top bed, while color and delta takes the bottom beds. fair enough - color is an old man, and delta seems to be the kind to move around in his sleep. still, it's a bit sad not to have anyone on the other top bed where he can throw some fun stuff at.

it's been a week since the trio moved into the flat. and all in all, everything is fine. epic volunteers to work at the refugee center himself, delta works at some construction site, and color is socializing with other people for now. they all have their own schedules, but still living together requires them to interact a lot and divide the chores. epic has to say, delta and color are best roommates he's had, but considering he never had a roommate before, that's not saying much.

until one faithful night it is. epic wakes up in the middle of the night, throat parched and skull throbbing from the frequent nightmares. checking his phone, it is about 3 am. he looks down from his bed. the other two are silent - they must still be asleep. quietly, he shortcuts to the hallway, then down the stairs.

the lights illuminating from the kitchen make him pause. okay... so one of them is also up at this hour. silently, he walks up to the kitchen, and pauses.

he can see delta's back facing him, thankfully blocking most of what is happening because he can hear the muffled sounds from where he's standing, and they're not exactly family-friendly. he can see color's flames peeking out behind delta's form, as color seems to be sitting on the kitchen island and enthusiastically responding to whatever delta is doing. oh stars, not the poor countertop... epic literally uses it every single day.

epic knows he should just slink away and pretend to not have seen anything. but his sleep-deprived mind forces his mouth to blurt out.

"yo my bruh-migos, what in the freaky flip."

with a yelp, delta stumbles back away from color as he swivels his head around to see epic's sleepy stunned face. delta's face is bright orange, and epic tries very hard not to stare at his wet ecto-tongue still hanging out.

"bruh, i cook there..." epic finds himself say.

"oh my void, i'm so sorry!" he hears color exclaim apologetically as the stout skeleton moves off the countertop. "we just didn't want to wake you up, since you were sleeping and all."

"... how many times did you guys, uh, rendezvous on that countertop?"

"we didn't- i mean, we-" delta stammers. it's the first time epic sees him so flustered, which was oddly funny and cute at the same time. thankfully for the blubbering orange mess, color swoops in smoothly to save him from further embarrassment.

"we haven't fooled around in the kitchen, if that's what you meant. we usually just meet up in the inns, actually."

"yeah," delta scratches the behind of his neck. "don't want to make it feel awkward in here or anything…"

epic looks at both of them for a while, his mind trying to fire off some sensible thoughts but unable to. there's an odd sensation pulsing in his rib that he doesn't have the time or clarity to examine just yet. in the end, his mouth utters, "it's fine if you guys wanna do it in the flat."

"what?" "are you sure?" delta and color ask simultaneously. stars, they're such a cute couple, aren't they?

"yeah, i don't mind," epic shrugs. "just don't do it in the kitchen. fire hazard and stuff. also, not on my spot on the sofa either, my bruhs." he adds a wink at the end, hoping to convey how unbothered he is by all of these constant punches of surprise.

delta and color exchange an indecipherable look before color says to epic, "if you're sure…"

epic doesn't know why color is talking as if he doesn't believe epic. it's quite an offense to his chill guy persona honestly. he's totally cool about his two friends-slash-roommates hooking up! well, maybe if he can show them how cool with it he is, then maybe…

the next few days are definitely awkward. epic has a nagging feeling that delta is avoiding him as much as possible, which is to say not much considering they share the same flat and also the bedroom to say the least. the usually brash skeleton is unusually reserved around epic, a blushing mess whenever epic addresses him. at least color still acts normal around epic, but the fact that he doesn't seem to be affectionate towards delta in front of epic lately makes the ex-scientist feel even worse.

so, one evening, as he puts down the extravagant meal he has made with his blood, sweat, and tears - from cutting the stars-damned onions - he speaks directly to both his roommates sitting across from him.

"look, i'm not homophobic."

delta chokes on the mouthful of rice he has inhaled, as color pats on his back. the colorful skeleton turns an incredulous look at epic.

"uh, what brought this up?"

"just because i like the opposite sex doesn't mean i don't vibe with the lgbt, bruh," epic huffs. "i'm totes fine with gay people."

"... okay...?" color raises an eye ridge at him, hand still on delta's back. and epic can't help but feel the side of his head burn hotly.

"look, all i'm saying is: i'm not bothered by you guys dating!" he bursts out, finally. "it's fine that my two friends are in relationship and we live together! i wouldn't mind if you guys start getting lovey-dovey with each other! i wouldn't even mind if you guys have sex in the same house," yeah, that sounds good enough as an endorsement, right? "or heck, even in front of me!" wait, what.

"what," delta echoes the last thought in epic's head. color is dead quiet. all three of them fall into an awkward silence.

"epic..." color tentatively reaches across the table, one hand holding epic's cold glove. "are you saying what i think you're saying?"

"... what am i even saying," epic breathes out, his mind in a spiral just like the electric fan above them.

color and delta exchange a meaningful look. ah, the perks of lovers and their inexplicable telepathic communication. they're just so cute together, aren't they?

"do you want to watch us have sex, epic?" color asks, as blunt as a hammer. epic can't help the blush spreading across his face, abnormally flustered by something he should be quite used to joking around about. the multi-colored skeleton continues, paying no heed to epic's turbulent thoughts. "because you're always welcome to do that."

"what he said," delta chimes in, looking intensely into epic's eyes with his orange-hued eyelights. epic finds himself unable to even lie with those pretty lights directed at him. his mouth opens, and he knows at that moment what he's going to say, wishing he won't make a mistake.

what happens next is a blur as far as epic is concerned. all he remembers is all three of them moving to the cramped living room, their meal halfway forgotten on the dining table. he remembers being treated to the sight of his two closest friends deep inside each other's mouth, delta watching him stupidly gape like a fish with a smug smile in his eyes. he remembers automatically blurting out how they needed to use a condom when the pair of lovebirds collapsed on the sofa and color gigglingly asking him for one, one hand outstretched like a particularly enticing olive branch. he remembers the breathless sounds from both of them, inviting him to come closer to see. he remembers stammering like an idiot, staying in his watching spot, a warm sensation buzzing in his bones as he watched the couple indulge in each other. he remembers the flushed and satisfied expression on color's face in the throes of pleasure, the grunted sounds coming from delta as he reaches completion. he remembers feeling all lightheaded himself, his palms sweaty as if he was the one having run a marathon and not the pair in front of him, who are now cuddling each other on the sofa, bundled under a blanket that epic has hastily brought to them after they were done.

"how was that?" color asks epic, startling the normally laid-back memelord. delta has fallen asleep next to color, his face so peaceful epic couldn't take his eyes off of it. color's voice is warm like the sun, and his flames are lazily dancing, shooting little sparks in the air like colorful fireflies.

epic finds himself speechless for once. he feels a sudden need to scoot closer to color and delta, but resolutely stays in his armchair facing the sofa. stars, what would he be to interfere in his friends' already amazing love life?

"... good, i think," he mumbles at last. "thanks for... all this." he gestures towards color and delta. color chuckles.

"glad you like it," the colorful skeleton says, tilting his head to the side. epic averts his eyesight, looking at a spot above the naked monster. "you can watch us next time too, if you want."

"oh yeah?" epic asks, a choked laugh escaping his throat. "and what does delta think about it?"

"he won't mind," color replies automatically. in a softer tone, he continues. "we're not dating, you know?"

epic jumps at the unexpected statement. "you're not?"

"hmmm not sure," color traces a hand over delta's skull. the sleeping skeleton scrunches his nose, cutely. "we've never talked about it. right now, it's just this, sex that is. so," color looks at epic, "don't feel bad, okay?"

epic swallows, not knowing what to say. color has always been the most perceptive of them after all. he leans back in his armchair, watching color fall into sleep next to delta. epic doesn't sleep himself, knowing another nightmare will just wait for him as always - not like it matters anyway.

he stays awake, guarding the two souls in his vicinity - the two most important souls in his current life. the silence pricks at him, but he perseveres, like he usually does.

dividers by @\anitalena here and @\fairytopea here

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version (Prt 3) (prt 1 here) (Prt 2 here)

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :3464

🔷Warnings: Non apply

TAGLIST: @connorsui @lportes-22 @thisaccountisrandomsstuff @nikkitc0703 @lijeno

Months have passed since the ball. Yet you still can feel your heart be ripped in two. Aemond has not bothered to come back for you, believing he is somehow doing you a favor by staying away. You wonder if he is doing alright. You should be furious, angry, perhaps take revenge and sleep with other men but….

Part of you knows Aemond too well to even do that. He genuinely believed he did the right thing. The good thing, by leaving and setting you free, so you could become the Queen. But what is a crown over true love? How can you rule over countless people if it is not the man of your dreams by your side, making the horrible choices so worth it, just because you’ll make that choice together? What is the future if you can’t spend it by his side? What is a golden cage if you can live with him in freedom? And why would you care about being Queen, when you could just be the woman he loves? 

Tonight, you all will be interviewed by the press, a common occurrence so the people of Westeros will know you a bit better, perhaps you’ll become someone’s favorite. 

Your make-up team works on your eyeliner, black with silver small tiny glitters. They put gloss on your lips and put your hair up, so the silver necklace around your neck speaks volumes. Baela is already done with her dress, and has taken time to chat with you about Aemond. She has become a close friend of yours in the past months, together with Dyana. You form an alliance with both, against Floris and even Queen Alicent. ‘’He loved me, he said so in his letter.’’ You tell Baela when she asks if Aemond wasn’t playing a fucked up little game. ‘’I’ve seen the man behind the mask when I am near him, Baela. It can’t have been a act.’’

Floris approaches in her black swan feather dress, glancing down at you with great enjoyment of your misery. ‘’Well, Queen Alicent has already said Aemond won’t be coming back from Dorne anytime soon. So, have fun being depressed and disappointed.’’ Alicent likely told Floris that in confidence but Floris takes any chance to make you feel miserable.

Dyana wears a gorgeous red gown and approaches Floris rapidly. She puts her hands on her hips and you and Baela know Dyana has had it with Floris. ‘’Just like your father was when you came in-'’ You see Baela gasp when Dyana opens her mouth, and the last 15 remaining girls listen with their breaths hold in. But you speak up, forcing her to remain calm, grabbing her hand and dragging her back before she can claw out Dyana’s eye.

‘’Don’t stoop to her level, Dy. She is not worth our anger or energy. She craves attention, so she seeks it.’’ Dy nods, before moving back to her chair. Floris scoffs at you three before she and her minions let the tv crew know they are ready.

After watching the other girls excel with their questions, the same questions time after time, you think you are prepared for whatever they may throw at you. You sit down in the comfortable chair, your legs crossed.

The first question is about your first meeting with the prince. The interviewer smiles, but her eyes tell books. ‘’Everyone knows you are a common-born girl. Do you think the reason you are still here is because of favoritism?’’ You first gawk at her, attacked and offended. Until you see the chance to clap back. And you will.

You speak from your heart but you can’t ignore the sting as if you betray Aemond. ‘’Frankly, I believe Prince Jacaerys is quite taken with me, and his opinion matters more than what a small crowd chooses to say about me.’’ 

Her eyebrows rise and this time she is the one who lost her tongue, clearly fumbling over cards to find a good other hostile question. ‘’Do you think you would make a good queen? How would someone as commonborn as you even lead the country?’’

A fair jab, but you are done playing fair. You will come at her with everything you got. ‘’I think us commoners know more about the country than the nobility ever will. We are the ants, carrying the crown. I hope to make life better for all civilians of the Seven Kingdoms, not just the commoners or the nobility. I hope to be a ruler. Not a decoration on a shelf.’’

The woman is seething with rage at your composed sweet answers. ‘’That was my final question.’’ You blink innocently and surprised.

‘’Was it? You seem to have forgotten to ask me the questions you asked all the other girls. Perhaps you need a break.’’ You suggest, sweetly. A few chuckles erupt among the selected.

The interviewer is removed by Lady Aemma before getting a firm talking to off screen. You stand up from the chair and sigh deeply. That went as horrible as could be. The only thing that would have made it worse would be questions about Aemond. You saw her cards, they were on there. Yet she kept from asking. Odd. And someone is working on getting you removed, someone very high up. 

The next major event is the Halloween masquerade. Only 10 girls remain, including you. Jacaerys has been nothing but kind to you, treating you as a true lady whenever you are around him. Floris and four other girls are now under Alicent’s wing. You used to be jealous that she had selected clear favorites. Yet none of that matters. Jacaerys has only eyes for you.

Prince Jacaerys dances with you, under the great chandelier. All those months practicing with the waltzes and dances have finally paid off as you smoothly follow his movements as if you are two body pieces belonging to one soul.

But alas, despite him having you made his favorite, you remain a pawn in a game. And a game has rules, no matter how unfair. Jacaerys ends the dance with a respectful bow before moving to Lady Baela, a sweet kind girl you’ve come to know very well.

You take a glass of champagne, before sitting down on a chair, lost in thought. You’ve been here for months. You miss Aemond, of course you do.

At some point you lost track of Baela and Jace. They must be getting more champagne. A servant loyal to Jacaerys whispers in your ear that you must come to the library. The prince has a surprise for you.

You enter the library not much later. A masked figure stands with his back to you, a black hood covering his hair. ‘’Jace?’’ You ask, before approaching him. Jace does not answer you, instead he grabs you by your hips and drags your body closer until you both collide. Your chin is grabbed and he kisses you fiercely before exhaling deeply, sniffing the perfume on your skin. 

This is improper. You must stop this. Jacaerys and you are not married, this is the selection. This is not fair to the others.

You gasp, as you remove the mask and look into blue eyes, not brown ones. Aemond silently brings his fingers to your lips before slowly bringing his face back to yours. The worst part is, you let him. You welcome him. Your lips find his soft pink lips, gently moving against his lips until the movements become rough as if he is trying to hurt you. ‘’Y/n,’’ he murmurs against your lips, leaving kisses on your skin. ‘’I’m sorry. I honor the traditions, normally. But I can’t stay away from you.’’ He mutters. You kiss his lips again. 

But you look into his eyes. ‘’We’ll make our own traditions.’’ You promise him, hot tears running down your cheeks of pure joy. He kisses you again, much slower and softer as if he wants to savor every moment of this. Aemond murmurs against your lips and you become lost in the passion and the love you feel for one another. You tug at his tie but he shakes his head, before leaning in and whispering in your ear. ‘’I don’t want you to become a secret, or a scandal. I will ask my nephew, and my father for permission.’’ He searches in his pocket for a small rock shaped box and opens the lid, before sinking to one knee and grabbing your hand. Lady Aemma enters the room, holding a smartphone so she can film this wonderful moment as tears sting your eyes.

He is proposing. He is asking you to become his wife. ‘’Lady Y/n, queen of my heart, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my equal, and may I bring you under my protection?’’ A small ring with gold and a clear sapphire smiles at you, and you see dreams and hopes in Aemond’s eyes.

You smile.  You wait for him to stand, and nearly slam the ring out of his hands before you kiss him again. ‘’Yes, yes, a dozens times yes.’’

Aemond grins, picking you up from the ground, spinning you around when kissing you. Lady Aemma makes herself known again, gently clearing her throat, but her eyes are misty with tears. ‘’I’m afraid there is a matter of permission. A royal marriage can only exist with the blessing of the king.’

The king has been feeling ill lately. He has taken to bed and refuses to leave for anyone. Queen Alicent rules in his stead, as a faithful wife would. You and Aemond rush past ladies, princes, nobles and paparazzi, hand in hand, clearly smitten as your feet go as fast as you can go. Paparazzi quickly turn their camera’s to you both, but all they get is a messy blurry picture, that is how fast you both are walking. Finally, you reach the rooms of the king.

Queen Alicent sits by his bedside, faithfully reading him the newspaper. She turns around when she sees you both, and you drop into a curtsy. ‘’What are you both doing here?’’ She asks.

Aemond clears his throat, before sitting down on his father’s bed. ‘’Father, I’m sorry. I know you told me I should always follow duty, and that the crown requires sacrifice.’’ He did? King Viserys avoids your eyes and you understand he was behind Aemond’s sudden departure. You cross your arms over your chest.

‘’I did.’’ The king confesses, a bit grumpy.

Aemond gestures for you to come closer, so you do. He takes hold of your hands. ‘’But my path to duty led me to Y/N. She makes me feel things I never felt before. She is the love of my life, Father. I know you both sent me away to Dorne to forget her, but I know by now: No one will ever compare or come close to her. She is all I ever wanted, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. If I have to give up my titles, so be it.’’ He declares, firmly. 

Viserys coughs, before smiling at you both. ‘’Aemond, come here my boy. I know I've been a horrible father to you and my other children.’’ You look away, not sure you were meant to hear this.

‘’Yes.’’ Aemond says, agreeing without missing a beat.

Viserys looks at you. ‘’But I'm going to ask you this once, my boy. Do you love that girl?’’ Your heart beats faster and faster and you are afraid it might stop. 

Aemond looks at you when speaking, nodding. ‘’I feel alive when she is with me. Like everything is possible and she makes me whole in ways I used to be broken.’’ Viserys nods.

‘’Then who am I to deny you both? Go, be happy, my boy. You always have been meant for it.’’ Aemond nods, pretending to not tear up, but even you have teary eyes watching this reunion.

This is nice, but there is one other obstacle. Jacaerys. You belonged to his selection. To go with another man is treason. ‘’Jace, of course, I will ask-’’ Aemond is interrupted as the doors open and Jace himself enters with Lady Aemma close behind.

Jacaerys holds up his hands, silencing Aemond. ‘’You don’t have to, Aemond.’’ He turns to the king before speaking. ’I've seen it for myself, Grandsire. Y/n and Aemond are two parts of one soul. We must not keep them separated. They belong to one another.’’

Alicent looks concerned. ‘’But what will the media say?’’ She is right. They have not been kind to you.

Viserys grins. ‘’They can say whatever they like. Y/n will become Aemond's wife,  a princess of house Targaryen. They will learn to mind their tongues over time.’’ You hope so, at least. 

Aemond turns to his mother. ‘’Do I have both your blessings? May we marry?’’ He asks, hopeful. 

Alicent looks you over, and you wonder how much she secretly hates you. She smiles, before touching her son’s forehead, kissing it.  ‘’Your happiness is all that I ever wanted for you, Aemond. Go find it with your wife.’’ And just like that, a nightmare ends and a dream is born. Aemond kisses your lips, not giving a damn about the audience that is present. 

The first moment with the press is there, the engagement photoshoot. Of course you are afraid, but Aemond makes it all worth it. He is still a bit stiff when it comes to press and attention but you bring out his true wonderful self. You and Prince Aemond hold hands in front of the castle, as multiple press magazines, news channels and photographers from all over the world take in this wonderful moment.

‘’Prince Aemond! "Please look here!"

‘’Duchess Y/n! Is it true you and Prince Aemond bonded over your love for Dornish architecture?"

‘’Yes. We are big nerds."

‘’O, that was improper of me wasn't it?’’ You mutter as the press eagerly writes things down.

Aemond shrugs before whispering in your ear. ‘’You're doing just fine. We kinda are big nerds.’’

You return the smile, taking hold of his face before kissing him. ‘’The biggest.’’ You declare before kissing him. The flashes go crazy the moment your lips lock, and all photographers shut up, taking millions of pictures.

Aemond breaks the kiss, grinning at the press when you blush lost in the moment. ‘’Prince Aemond, what was your first thought when you saw her lady?"

Aemond thinks back and you see many emotions cross his face. ‘’Why don't good things ever happen to me? And it's ironic because…she would become the best thing In my life.’’

One photographer clearly adores that and makes a little strangled ‘’awh’’ sound, causing their colleague to smack them lightly on the arm. ‘’What? They are adorable!’’ He declares, simply before returning to making photos.

You glance at Aemond. ‘’I am simply speaking my truth.’’ He says as if he’s defending himself. 

You grin. ‘’Hmhm.’’

An interviewer of the Targaryen times finally asks a question, having worked up the courage. ‘’Princess-I mean, Duchess…’’ She stumbles and blushes, embarrassed as she looks through her notes nervously.

Aemond smiles, reassuringly. ‘’Princess is fine, Ma’am. She must adjust to her new title somehow.’’ Finally she lets go of her cards, and becomes much more confident because of it.

‘’Princess Y/N. What are the plans for the wedding?’’ Aemond grins, turning his head to you as if he wants to hear it as well.

You smile, painting a picture. ‘’A grand one, in the sept, honoring ancient Targaryen traditions. But also a couple of new ones.’’ You for example would love for Vhagar, Aemond’s cat to wear the rings down the aisle or for your wedding dress to be silver. And so, that happened. 25 october, you and Aemond said your vows for dozens of people to see. And after that, came the honeymoon.

You finally stand before the statue of Nymeria, the statue you dreamed of seeing since you were old enough to want anything. Aemond is with you, together with your security, hidden and dressed as ordinary tourists. You look at Nymeria’s statue, at a loss for words, that's how beautiful you find it all. 

‘’I can't believe you took me here.’’ You tell Aemond, searching for his hand to hold as tears of happiness roll down your cheeks. 

He gently wipes them away. ‘’I can. You always wanted to see it. And now we can.’’ He tells you, with a smile and a kiss on your lips. ‘’This does mean that you need a new dream, I’m afraid.’’ He jests but you turn his face back to your own.

‘’I don’t need a new dream. You are my new dream.’’

Next year, you all come together for christmas. You and Aemond have brought gifts. The family sits still in gowns and suits, as royals are expected, but their smiles are the same of any other happy family. 

Finally it is your turn to give something to Viserys, the king.

‘’Grandsire, we have a surprise.’’ Aemond looks around the room, and everyone watches as Viserys unwraps his present with the help of Alicent, and reveals two red with silver baby socks.

Rhaenyra gasps, delighted before hiding her giggle. Jacaerys and Baela grab each other’s hand and Helaena grins. Even Aegon seems to understand what this means. His hair has slightly grown back, but he keeps it shorter than usual, he quite liked it.

Yet the king seems at loss for words. ‘’These are a little too small for my feet.’’ Viserys says, taking in the baby socks.

Aemond grins, putting his arms around you. You beam, waiting patiently for Viserys to get the hint.

Alicent jumps up from her chair, gasping. ‘’Oh my gods, she is pregnant!’’ You break into a bright grin as Aemond softly rubs your belly.

Instantly the king smiles, standing up to hug you both. ‘’Oh! My stupid arse thought you bought the wrong size!’’ He is still very fragile, but manages to walk a few inches.

‘’Father.’’ Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

Daemon, her newest husband, smirks, before coming over as well. Usually he is too cool for things like this, but this time, it's different. ‘’Ah to hell it with, get here you two.’’ He hugs you both. You look at the beautifully decorated christmas tree, and realize that next christmas might look even more beautiful.

The next Christmas is just like that, beautiful. Baela is now pregnant with her own child, the future heir to the seven Kingdoms. Dyana has been married too, to a friendly sweet woman she met in a coffee shop. She remains one of your closest friends, after the selection and Dyana and Crystina are invited to court, to become your ladies. 

Your son is now born, Prince Daen Targaryen. Aemond and you picked the name together. 

‘’He takes after his father, always with his nose stuck in a book.’’ Prince Viserys comments as you and the young prince look through a picture book he got from his aunt, Aunt Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra seems pleased that your son likes her gift and you smile at her. ‘’He likes colorful pictures.’’ 

Rhaenyra nods. ‘’Viserys and Aegon are the same.’’

Aemond talks with his dad, you see them bond more and more, becoming closer. ‘’Do you remember?’’ He asks.  

Viserys almost looks offended. ‘’Of course I do. Your favorite things was to read, to eat cookies and to see the horses.’’ 

Aemond grins, looking at you and your son. ‘’I thought you had forgotten.’’ He confess.

Viserys nearly chokes on his champagne. ‘’Never.’’

You lift Daen from the ground, picking him up and bringing him to Aemond who happily accepts and holds his son. ‘’Look, it’s daddy.’’ You tell your son with a smile. ‘’Say hello to daddy.’’

He grins, hugging your son tightly when rocking him to sleep. ‘’Our little prince.’’ He tells you with a wink. 

You nod. ‘’Our little prince.’’ You have learned a lot in the time of the selection. But the one thing is that your life can change, if you just look past people’s appearances, and past their walls. The most gorgeous crown can be hidden behind a ugly box and the most wonderful story has the dustiest cover. You can’t judge people for the walls they keep around, as everyone has their own stories. But most of all, you learned to fight for things you believe in, and to fight for things you love. 

A/N.

Thank you so much for reading with me. When i started it idk how many people would even like it and the support was insane. Thank you all so much. I hope you all liked the story as much as I did telling it, in hotd/selection fashion.

[sena-seastar]

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Six

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

WARNING: 18+ NSFW, masturbation, use of the word cock, internalized homophobia. There is a flashback in this chapter that takes place a bit before Chapter 1 and Episode 6 of the show. Aerys is horrendously down bad for his uncle (like aunt like nephew, I guess).

a/n: I will be referring to Aegon III as Egg because there are too many damn Aegons in this family circle. Dialogue in italics means that the characters are speaking in high valyrian. I was just too lazy to attempt to translate it. Though, there may be some high valyrian thrown in here and there. No beta, so I apologize for any or all grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, if anyone wishes to be tagged in future updates, just let me know!

Aerys

“You’re dead,” Aerys quipped, standing brazenly over the brown-haired boy.

The tip of his wooden sword sat under the boy’s chin. Lucerys winced, his body laid out on the ground. The fall had knocked the wind out of him. Aerys took a few steps back, giving the poor boy some space. Lucerys stood to his feet, dusting himself off.

“I thought you said-”

“Valyrian,” Aerys warned.

Lucerys sighed, pondering his thoughts for a moment. 

“I thought you said you would go easy?”

“I did,” Aerys smirked.

Lucerys huffed, using his sword to trace small circles into the dirt. Aerys stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You’re still young. I don’t believe anyone expects you to be a master swordsman quite yet.” Aerys smiled.

“I’m no warrior...”

“Perhaps not,” Aerys sighed. “But there are more important things than knowing how to wave a sword. Any fool could swing one, but a true warrior must understand that not every conflict can be solved with bloodshed.”

Luke peeked his head up, his face still looking discouraged. Aerys squeezed the boy’s shoulder. It disheartened the man to watch Luke be so hard on himself. Especially since Luke seemed to be doing it a lot more recently. The sound of clinking armor caught their attention. They both raised their heads to watch Rhaenyra descend the stairs to the training yard. Ser Lorent held out his hand, offering it for her to hold onto as she reached the last few steps.

“Mother!” Luke greeted warmly, moving to her side.

Rhaenyra smiled widely, her hand cupping the young boy’s face. Aerys picked Luke’s sword off the ground. He handed them off to the retainer, who ran to assist him. Aerys dusted off his hands before joining his aunt and cousin. Luke had gone pale. Aerys could see his hands begin to tremble.

“You should clean yourself up before we leave,” Rhaenyra smiled, kissing the boy’s hair.

Luke swallowed and nodded. The two waited until he reached the top of the stairs before speaking.

“Has something happened?” Aerys asked.

“Vaemond Velaryon is sailing for King’s Landing. He intends to petition to be named Lord Corlys’ successor.”

“And, in turn, question Luke’s legitimacy. I had hoped we were past all of this by now.” Aerys sighed, shaking his head.

“As did I,” Nyra replied. “We will be sailing to King’s Landing as well.”

The woman paused, taking Aerys’ hands in hers.

“You are not required to join us. No doubt you're still exhausted from your trip to Castamere.”

Aerys dropped his eyes down to their joined hands. Kings Landing, he had yet to return to the city after he left it behind five years ago. The young man never found the strength to go back. His life on Dragonstone was considerably less complicated. The thought of returning now, after all this time, was quite... daunting.

“No, I should join you. To show my support for Luke.”

“Aerys,” the woman sighed. “I don’t want you to put yourself in an uncomfortable position. I know you left for a reason-”

“Nyra, nothing happened.”

“You showed up to Dragonstone in tears. I had to hold you until you fell asleep. I’ve never forced you to tell me what happened, but I think you and I know it wasn’t nothing.”

Aerys bit his lip, the memory replaying itself in his head of him landing on the shoreline of Dragonstone, sobbing like a small child. Nyra rushed to his side, fearing that he was hurt. No words needed to be spoken between the two. It was like she knew instantly, just from looking into his eyes. She understood the pain in his heart. It was not his proudest moment. The two hadn’t even spoken of it since.

“I will be fine, Nyra.” Aerys smiled, gently squeezing her hands. “I want to join you.”

Her eyes shifted between his, searching for any sign of insincerity.

“As you wish. Am I to presume that Agana will be joining us as well?” She raised a brow.

“I believe she’d follow me even if I told her not to.” Aerys snickered.

His eyes moved towards the giant smoking mountain behind the Valyrian Freehold. 

—

“Hello, Lord Aerys!” The dragon keepers greeted him warmly.

“Hello,” Aerys nodded with a polite smile.

A large winged shadow passed overhead. The men raised their heads, attempting to locate the silver dragon. The sky was gray and cloudy. As it usually was on Dragonstone. It made it a bit challenging to spot Agana in the sky. The sound of flapping wings filled the air as she descended towards the ground. She landed on the shore with a loud thud. Her claws sank into the sand as she steadied herself.

It was hard to believe how much she had grown over the last five years. She seemed to grow much faster on the island than she did in the dragon pit. The dragon was even bigger than Syrax now. Her body was long and slender, almost snakelike, similar to Caraxes, though she was still smaller than the bloodwyrm. Aerys ran his hand over her snout, careful not to put too much pressure on the scar tissue. Three jagged claw marks now scarred her silver-scaled snout. The dragon keepers believed she had gotten into a scuffle with the beast they called the cannibal. Though they were not sure. There were a few unclaimed dragons that made their lairs within the dragonmont. It could have been any one of them.

The pearlescent white horns that sprouted from the top of her head were much more prominent now. They curved slightly backward like ram horns. Aerys himself had grown as well. Now standing six feet tall, his body was well toned from years of training with a sword and climbing upon Agana’s back. The features of his face were much sharper, and he had grown his hair out a little past his shoulders. It had lightened as well. His hair was now more on the golden side, with just a hint of copper. Aerys smiled as Agana nudged her face against his chest.

“We must be going now,” he informed her.

Agana pulled her head back before lowering her body to the ground. Aerys pulled on his riding gloves as he walked around to her side. His fingers curled around the ropes tightly as he climbed to his saddle. The saddle was similar to an ordinary horse saddle, albeit much larger. It was made of black leather, with two black handlebars and red and silver plating in the front, displaying the sigil of his father’s house—a red lion with a forked tail on a silver field. His brother Robb commissioned the saddle as a gift for his twenty-first name day. 

Aerys strapped himself in the saddle, his hands gripped to handlebars as he gave the command. Agana ran forward, fanning out her wings before leaping into the air. The salty sea breeze of the Blackwater Bay filled his lungs. He enjoyed the smell of the sea. The stench of King's Landing was something he had quickly learned to live without. His heart raced with excitement. Aerys must have ridden Agana thousands of times by now, yet the thrill never stopped. They had quickly caught up with the Princess’s ship. Agana slowed down a bit, staying close to the vessel. They would reach the capital soon.

—

The two circled above the dragonpit. Agana huffed defiantly as she lowered herself down to the ground. Aerys felt his body roughly jerk side to side. He glared at the she-dragon, knowing that she was capable of landing much more gracefully than she did. The young lord quickly dismounted, pulling off his riding gloves to shove them in his pocket.

“That was childish,” he scorned his winged companion.

Agana let out a loud snort and turned her head away.

“We won’t be here long,” he reassured, patting the scales of her neck.

“It’s been a long time, Lord Aerys,” one of the older dragon keepers, Vargo, called as he approached the two. Aerys recognized him immediately. He had been caring for the dragons since Aerys was a boy. “She has grown.”

“Indeed she has,” Aerys agreed. “Though I fear she remains as short-tempered as ever.”

The two shared a laugh as the man led Aerys away. The man led him out of the dragonpit, where the princess's carriage awaited him. He exchanged goodbyes before climbing into the carriage and sitting beside Jace and Rhaena. The carriage bounced as it made its way through the city. Something in the city had changed; Aerys could feel it. Though he couldn’t yet put his finger on what it was. Perhaps it was all in his head.

He could hear the gates groan loudly as they were pried apart. His stomach clenched like a balled fist as the carriage came to a halt. Nyra was the first to exit as Ser Darklyn announced her arrival. Aerys waited until everyone was out before he made his exit. The evening was approaching quickly. The sky grew darker as more clouds rolled in, attempting to shield the sun. The outer yard was nearly deserted, minus the few maids and retainers. Aerys felt his anger beginning to rise. This was not a welcome befitted of the princess and heir to the iron throne.

Viserys had begun to fuss in the wet nurse's arms. The woman was growing slightly flustered as she tried to calm him. Aerys held his hands out, offering to take the boy. The young woman nodded gratefully as she handed him over. Aerys bounced the little boy in his arms.

“What is this?!” He asked, pulling a little wooden dragon out of his pocket.

The little boy quieted down as his eyes landed on the dragon. His chubby little fingers reached for the toy. Aerys chuckled as he allowed him to take it. The castle doors opened, and a familiar face revealed itself.

“Welcome back, Princess.” The head of House Caswell said as he gently held Nyra’s hands.

“Lord Caswell,” she greeted him courteously.

The castle was quiet, too quiet. The giant seven-pointed star was the first thing that caught Aerys’ attention. As he looked around the halls, more statues of the seven popped up more frequently. If he did know any better, he would find it hard to believe this was the seat of House Targaryen. Aerys handed the now calm Viserys back off to the wetnurse before deciding to explore on his own. The sound of his boots clacking echoed off the cold stone floor. It seemed like much had changed since he left for Dragonstone. 

This place seemed almost unrecognizable to him. None of it matched up with the memories in his mind. The memories of rushing up and down the halls, trying to keep Jace and Luke out of trouble. The memories of the many nights he had indulged in too much wine and stumbled down dark corridors with... him . Aerys found his mind beginning to drift back to one particular night in this very corridor. 

-

“She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,

But he licked the honey from her hair,

Her hair! Her hair!

He licked the honey from her hair!”

The two boys sang loudly as they stumbled down the empty corridor. Their arms wrapped around the other's shoulders as they struggled to stay on their feet. Aegon raised his free hand into the air, waving it around. Aerys let out a short yelp as they nearly fell backward. Fortunately, he was able to regain his balance in time. However, some of the wine in the flagon he was holding had spilled. That seemed to snap Aegon out of his drunken haze for a moment.

“You’re wasting it!” He cried out.

“Well, if you would stop flailing about like a dying fish, I wouldn’t have spilled it!” Aerys retorted.

The two stopped in their tracks, glaring at each other. The glaring silence didn’t last long before Aegon laughed, tiny beads of spit landing on Aerys’ face. Aerys groaned, using his sleeve to wipe his face. Before he could say anything, Aegon began to sing. Aerys shook his head, joining in.

“Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!

My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!

And off they went, from here to there,

The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair!”

The pair ended the song with a loud cheer. They had finally run out of words to sing. Aerys began humming a tune. He didn’t know if it was from an actual song or something his mind created. The boy let out a short gasp as he felt himself being pulled back by the back of his shirt. He had failed to notice that Aegon had stopped walking. Aerys turned his head to watch as Aegon looked around.

“Where are we?” Aegon asked, puzzled.

Aerys hummed, turning his head both ways.

“A dark corridor,” he answered.

Aegon tilted his head to the side, shooting Aerys an annoyed glare.

“Well, obviously, you twat, but which one?”

Aerys shrugged, moving to lean against the stone wall on the left. He must have lost his footing as he found himself sliding down the wall. Aerys let out a groan as his butt hit the hard stone floor. Aegon laughed, slowly lowering himself to the ground and sitting beside Aerys. Aerys raised the flagon to his lips, letting the red wine slide down his throat. When he had his fill, he handed it to Aegon, who eagerly accepted it. 

Aerys looked around the dark corridor. The candles hanging on the walls were burned low. He considered returning to his grandsire's name day celebration in the great hall, but ultimately decided against it. The two boys had snuck away hours ago to escape the pestering lords and their daughters. Aerys must have been introduced to nearly a hundred different eligible bachelorettes. However, he couldn’t remember a single one’s name at the moment. He was growing tired of attending these celebrations. Though the boy had never been fond of them, to begin with. His grandsire had thrown one to celebrate Luke’s eighth name day not long ago. 

During celebrations like this, Aerys couldn’t help but feel... lonely. Watching as Rhaenyra doted on her children all night had left a sour taste in his mouth. However, Aerys was quick to chastise himself for feeling this way. Neither Rhaenyra nor her sons were to blame for his childish jealousy. They had been kind enough to welcome him into their little family. Rhaenyra herself has done more than enough for him. It was selfish for him to want more. He is selfish.

“Stop thinking so much. It’s making my head hurt!” Aegon groaned.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Aerys smiled.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Here, have some more,” Aegon said, lifting the flagon to Aerys’ lips.

Aerys parted his lips, taking a few deep gulps before pulling back. He turned his head to the prince sitting by his side. Aegon’s white hair was messy and wavy, as it usually was. Under the candlelight, Aerys could make out his flushed face and half-lidded eyes. He takes a deep breath, allowing the prince’s scent to envelop his senses- the smell of strong wine, pine, and a thin veil of sweat. It may not have been what many would describe as a pleasant scent, but it brought Aerys a great sense of comfort. It was familiar. It made him feel warm.

“Aerys...” There’s a playfulness to his voice, but in a whisper, making his breath brush against Aerys’ face.

“Yes...?” Aerys whispers back.

“I think I’m drunk...”

“Aegon...”

“Yeah...?”

“I think I’m drunk too.”

The two giggle to themselves, amused by their drunkenness. Once the laughter subsided, the two were left in a comfortable silence. It’s only then that Aerys realizes how close they are. Their faces are only inches apart. He can feel Aegon's breath on his face. His eyes trail over every inch of the prince's face. It was a handsome one. Anyone who said otherwise was a liar and a fool. 

Aerys reaches his hand over, lacing their fingers together. He leans his head forward so that their noses are now touching. 

“What are you doing?” Aegon whispers with a wide grin on his face.

“I don’t know,” Aerys answers.

Aegon's grip on his hand is tight, but Aerys’ is even tighter. The thought of ever having to let go pained him. Iris eyes meet violet, and Aerys can see his emotions and desires reflected in those lovely violet eyes. The veil that has been placed between them, preventing the two from ever acting on this unspoken tension that has been simmering just below the surface, has dwindled into near nothingness. The unasked question, that neither has dared to speak aloud, hangs heavy in the air.

Do you feel this, too?

They maintain eye contact, and Aerys sees a flash in Aegon’s eyes. He does.

Aerys shuts his eyes and finally closes the rest of the short gap between them. The kiss is chaste and a bit awkward. Aerys blames it on the wine and the fact that it was his first real kiss. As he tried apologizing, Aegon grabbed him by the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. Aerys has never known another touch like this. His face feels hot, and a surge of warmth enters his veins. Aerys thinks he could keep doing this forever. He wants to do this forever, or at least all night. But his body had an unfortunate need for air. Aerys pulled back with a gasp, struggling to catch his breath. Aegon let out a breathy laugh before laying his head on Aerys’ shoulder. 

-

The young lord swallowed, blinking away the memory. That was all in the past now. The man continued his journey through the castle. The garden was empty, much like the rest of the castle. He walked down the stone path, stopping before the ancient weirwood tree. Once again, tears of red sap fell. It seemed smaller than he remembered. He leaned down, picking up a red leaf that had fallen. Aerys held it in his hands. He watched tiny droplets of water collecting on the leaf fall to the dirt. Aerys closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold breeze kiss his face. Perhaps it was a mistake to come back here. 

Dark gray clouds filled the sky, forcing out the little sunlight that remained. The old gods seemed to be pitying the sight that stood before them. The weight of guilt and shame sits heavy on his shoulders. The burden of regret digs into his skin like talons. Surprisingly, he found his throat yearning for the taste of wine. Aerys had quit drinking soon after he left the capital after coming to the realization that he was quite the depressing drunk.

He let the leaf slip through his fingers. Aerys fiddled with the ring around his little finger. Fortunately, it still fits comfortably. He wondered how many times his mother stood in this very spot. Nyra told him that his mother was fascinated by the old gods. She didn’t worship them, but she did enjoy studying them. The man opened his eyes to study the ancient tree. He was told the red sap meant something terrible was coming. Aerys couldn’t help but think there was some truth to the old wives' tale. Or perhaps the ancient tree was in pain. Being trapped inside these castle walls closed off from the world around it. It was said that all the weirwood trees were connected. But gods are only as strong as those who have faith in them. The old gods were not worshiped much outside of the north and some parts of the river lands. Perhaps the connection was lost.

Aerys shook his head to clear his mind. Here he was, raving like a madman. The hour was growing late; he decided to check on the boys. Aerys turned, walking back to the castle. As he went to open the door, it pushed open. Aerys quickly moved out of the way to avoid being hit. 

“Oh, Lord Reyne, my apologies.”

“It’s alright, Princess Rhaenys. I should have paid more attention,” he smiled politely before adding, “If you’ll excuse me.”

The older woman nodded, moving out of the way so he could pass. “Of course.”

Aerys was not unfamiliar with the queen who never was, but they were by no means close friends. He made his way into the castle, walking down another empty corridor. As he turned the corner, he spotted Nyra and Rhaena walking together. Rhaena spotted him first.

“Aerys!” She called with a smile, waving a hand.

Aerys sped up his pace to meet them.

“Have you seen my grandmother?” She asked.

“Yes, she just entered the garden.” He answered, pointing behind him.

“Rhaena, will you give us a minute?”

The two turned to look at Nyra, who held her stomach gently. Rhaena nodded quickly before walking a little ahead to provide them space to talk.

“Isn’t the castle as warm as it was six years ago?” Aerys jests.

Nyra rolled her eyes. “It certainly has changed. Have you seen the king yet?”

Aerys shook his head. “Not yet, how is he?”

“Worse than the last time I saw him,” the woman sighed heavily. 

Her hands subconsciously ran over her stomach. She did it a lot, especially when she was worried about something.

“Did you speak with Rhaenys?” She asked next.

“Briefly,” he shrugged.

“How did she seem?”

“About as warm and loving as this dear castle.”

Nyra scoffed, her lips widening into a grin. “Check on the boys for me, will you?”

“That’s where I’m headed,” Aerys affirmed.

“We shall meet for supper later.”

“Of course, Princess,” he bowed.

Nyra lightly pushed him back as she passed. He laughed as he carried on down the hall. Aerys began lightly humming to himself. Desperate to get rid of the cold silence. As he neared the end of the hallway, something moving caught his eye. He stopped, his eyes falling on a rather large gray cat. The cat was sitting, just watching him. It did not move as he approached it slowly. He kneeled to the ground. The first thing he thinks to do is scratch under its chin. The cat seemed to glare at him before giving in, releasing a loud purr as it relaxed under his touch. He was suddenly reminded of Agana.

Aerys pulled his hand back, pushing himself up to his feet. The cat moved closer, brushing against his legs.

“I apologize, friend, but I must go.” He explained.

Now, he was talking to a cat; perhaps he was going mad.

“Aerys...?”

He froze.

No. No, no, no.

Not now. 

Not yet.

It was too soon. Aerys wasn’t ready to face him. He clenched his fist to try and stop his fingers from trembling. His hair had begun to stick to the sweat on the back of his neck. He could feel his stomach tighten up, bile rising in his throat. His heart thudded in his chest, blood pounded in his ears, and his vision seemed to be distorted. Everything around him appeared blurred. Fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he struggled to breathe. Aerys clenched his jaw. He breathed deeply through this nose, in , out, in, out, in, out.

“Aerys.” The voice called out, more assuredly this time.

Would it be too late to run? Aerys summoned all the courage he had. Just a few steps, and he could round the corner and run.

One step.

That was how far he made it before he felt himself coming to a halt—a strong hand wrapped around his wrist. Aerys swallowed hard, and his iris-colored eyes followed the hand to its owner.

It was like looking at a stranger, though Aerys supposed that’s what they were now. Strangers. The prince was taller now, just a couple of inches shorter than Aerys. His pale white hair was shorter but still looked messy and in need of a wash. Aerys believed the prince took after his mother in terms of facial features. If he had darker hair, he could probably pass as her twin. There was a darkness under his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t slept in days.

The prince lowered his hand to grab Aerys’ hand. The prince seemed to ignore the way Aerys flinched, itching to get away. It was so strange. Even the touch of his skin felt so foreign. The prince offers a little smile, moving to pull Aerys into an embrace. But he freezes when the young lord steps back, putting some distance between them. The prince’s smile fell, his lips slightly trembling. Aerys cleared his throat, pushing his shoulders back to stand up straight.

“It’s nice to see you again, Prince Aegon.”

It was a lie. But what else could he say?

“Yes,” The prince nodded. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m merely here to show my support for Luke, nothing more,” Aerys replied. 

The reply sounded harsher out loud, but it was the truth. Hurt flashes in the prince’s violet eyes, and Aerys feels his heartache. Was he being too cruel?

“Of course,” the prince replied sullenly.

“I should be going. The princess requested I check on the children.”

“Are you one of her handmaids now?” The prince quipped.

Aerys felt the warmth spreading across his face. Had it been anyone else, he would have been offended. But the slight smirk on the prince’s face let him know it was a simple jest.

“Not officially,” Aerys countered with a smile.

The prince let out an amused scoff.

“Perhaps you would like to join me in my chambers for supper? To catch up on lost time?” The prince shrugged.

Panic coursed through Aerys’ veins. The thought of being alone with the prince in his chambers was too much.

“I would,” Aerys cleared his throat. “But I’ve already agreed to have supper with Rhaenyra.”

Aegon frowned. “You’ve had supper with her every night for five years. Surely, she can let you go for one night.”

“As I said, I’ve already agreed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Aerys excused himself, quickly brushing past the Prince before the man could utter another word.

The hours passed quickly, and nightfall had arrived. The thunder had grown louder, and bolts of lightning began to flash now and again. Aerys had remained with Nyra and her children until he was about to drop from exhaustion. The little ones were restless, particularly little Egg, who insisted on challenging Aerys to duel after duel. But the man didn’t mind. It kept him distracted. Unlike now, as he lay wide awake in bed, glaring daggers into the white canopy above him. It seemed all that exhaustion had miraculously disappeared. He dreaded the morning to come. Aerys knew he would eventually be forced to face the prince once again. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. His mind drifted back to their interaction in the hall. To the moment, they shared that quick jest. At that moment, it was almost like they were their old selves again—just two young boys without a care.

The man sighed and turned onto his side. He stared at the wooden window shutters through the sheer white canopy, hoping it would lull him to sleep. The room seemed too big, too empty. It was not his own. Perhaps that was the reason sleep continued to evade him. Aerys longed for the warmth and familiarity of his room back on Dragonstone. He missed the mess and disorder. His room was cluttered with his artwork and books on various subjects. Everything in this room was clean and pristine, like no one had ever lived here. He didn’t like it. 

His hopes of sleep went unanswered. He angrily rolled onto his back and huffed. His iris-colored eyes returned to the canopy above. As Aerys stared at the creases in the white fabric, he imagined the prince’s pale-white hair. Aerys thought back to when the prince had grabbed his hand in the hall. Despite the prince’s slightly haggard appearance, he was still rather good-looking. The prince’s hands were much larger now, yet the skin was surprisingly soft. He kept his nails short. His fingers were slender and pale, and his knuckles had a slight flush to them. The veins that popped out when he gripped Aerys’ wrist sent a chill down his spine. Aerys shamefully found himself wanting them on his skin again.

He closed his eyes and imagined the prince’s eyes—the same color as violet flowers, his favorite. He breathed deeply as he thought of his scent—strong wine, leather, a hint of pine, and a thin veil of sweat. Something about that scent set him ablaze.

Aerys slapped his hands over his face and groaned. He needed to stop. He couldn’t think of him that way. The man rolled over onto his side. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could. Sleep, he needed to sleep. Aerys tried to think of anything he could to try and distract himself from the stirring in his loins. The man took a deep breath, shaking his head to rid his mind of the sinful thoughts creeping in. Yet every thought in his mind turned to the prince. It seemed the five years apart had done little to smother the fire in his heart. He missed him. Aerys had tried not to. He had tried so hard to forget him. He tried so desperately to ignore that obscene hunger that wanted nothing more than to devour him.

The feeling of his bare cock straining against the blanket made his stomach flinch- like someone had punched him in the gut. Once again, the prince appears in his mind. His eyes, his lips, his hands. The more he thinks, the harder it gets-his cock. Aerys threw his arms over his head, burying his face into the curve of his elbow. His eyes were closed as he focused on the clear image of the prince in his mind.

His hands balled into fists above his head. Aerys shook his head again, attempting to rid himself of these thoughts. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder how the prince’s cold hands would feel running down his chest. A shuddering sigh escaped his lips as his hips bucked. His cock rubbed against the soft wool blanket, desperate for some relief. Aerys couldn’t touch it. He wouldn’t touch it. His mind and body had betrayed him, but he still held on to what little willpower remained to him.

A low moan fills the air as he imagines it isn’t a blanket but the prince’s hand. How his strong hands would look wrapped around his cock. How it would feel dragging up and down slowly, pumping his swollen tip. He imagined how the veins in his hand would pop out as he tightened his grip around his throbbing shaft. Pathetic whimpers slipped through Aerys’ lips as his hips rolled up against the warm fabric.

Pale pink, soft, glistening lips; how would they feel wrapped around him? Would he be able to take him all the way? Aerys imagined he could.

His breath hitched in his chest as he imagined the prince’s hot breath against him, taking him into his mouth. His warm tongue swirling around the tip as drool coated his aching cock. Aerys felt his hips rolling faster. It was hot, too hot. His skin felt on fire, but he didn’t want it to stop. Those beautiful violet eyes stare up at him, and he’s gone. Aerys slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle the staggering groans as he reaches his peak. His toes curled, and he arched his back slightly. His brows scrunched together as the tidal waves of pleasure swept across his body. Whimpers slip past his lips as his hips jut against the blanket, releasing the last of his seed. The waves turned to ripples that slowly ebbed out, finally freeing him from the shackles of his salacious thoughts.

Aerys winced as he shifted his legs, feeling the blanket stick to his skin. He sat up, bunching the blanket together before throwing it to the ground. The man allowed his body to fall back onto the bed, his hair fanning around his head. For a few moments, the room was silent, save for the occasional short gasp as his body recovered. A sense of guilt washed over him. His heart ached so much that his chest hurt. 

The cold night air almost stings against his skin. Aerys rolls onto his side, bringing his knees up to his stomach. He crossed his arms over his chest, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. He felt so vulnerable- so humiliated. The sharp glint of his ring on the nightstand was enough to get the tears flowing. Sobs weigh heavily on his shoulders. His breath quickened, his eyes stung, and his nose burned. The man’s tears ran freely, but he pressed a hand against his mouth to quiet the sobs. His throat had begun to ache from trying to remain silent. 

How pathetic he must look, curled up and weeping like a child. Aerys had tried so hard to stop these feelings. He spent the past five years trying to repress them, sleeping with some of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Yet this thing refused to go away. It itched in the back of his mind like a fresh scab. Nyra knew- not of his feelings for the prince, but his interest in men in general. She had tried to explain to him that what he felt was not evil or perverse. Aerys wanted to believe her; he did—anything to take this overpowering weight off his chest. Yet somehow, he always ended up here. Curled up in tears while his guilt and shame ate away at him. I must be damned, he thought. He was doomed to spend his life in agony as a deviant, a freak.

A bright bolt of lightning caused him to flinch. He wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to find warmth. The soft sound of his sniffling filled the darkness of the room. His mind and body were both utterly exhausted. Aerys felt his body slump down as the darkness took over.

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