#amber sweet aesthetic

[ylove-bandaesthetics]

🎃 Spooky Month Aesthetic! 🎃

Sabrina Carpenter + Amber Sweet! 💙

Have a Happy Halloween! 👻

[gothicgirlh-9]

Not heard this song in ages 🙂🖤🖤🖤

[applesss2]

[ray-theoretical-trucker]

amber sweet.

- and amber sweet is addicted to the knife...

- addicted to the knife?

- addicted to the knife.

[ambersweet]

■□■□☆I'm the kinda bitch that you wanna get with☆□■□■

♡ just here to post cool pics ♡ cybercore, y2k, and paris hilton ♡

she/her ■□■ Im over 18 ■□■ no minors !!

𓆩🎧𓆪

[planetofaesthetics]

Mermaids of Sweets Aesthetic | Honey Mermaid  

[fr00tbats]

& amber sweet is addicted to the knife.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Shaken and Stirred.

I was really inspired by this fan art and was plagued by thoughts of a pathetic whiny lil meow meow 🥺 I don't drink myself, but I love the mature aesthetic of it and wanted to... write a drunken confession... to close off 2024...

… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT OTL wait no please J WORD I CAN EXPLAIN

***Content warning: Alcohol consumption, though Leona is the only one drinking. (The legal age is 20 in Japan; I’m going to assume this for Twisted Wonderland.) Everyone else is having sparkling juice :v***

Imagine this…

"Feel like joining us for dinner? For old time's sake.”

The invitation had come so casually, the same way a housecat might drop a mangled rat or bird at your feet. To them, an easy, everyday act. To you, a surprise you weren’t quite certain how to feel about.

You didn't have plans for the evening, nor a reason to refuse, and while you were busy weighing the pros and cons, you found yourself strung along in their outing. Muscular arms wrangling you into the herd, boisterous yells welcoming you back. An honorary member, the Savanaclaw students had branded you, recognized by their king.

Now you sit in a barstool, fingers on the rim of a cup clouded with condensation, absentmindedly swirling its contents. Juice, its sweetness stifled by melted ice.

Some would call you a lamb willingly waltzing into a lion's den. They're wrong. You are no beast, but a curious observer of them. This is a prime opportunity for that.

It’s dim, the glowing jellyfish set low, faint lights swimming overhead. The music is loud, a departure from the Mostro Lounge’s usual soft jazz. The bass is even louder, rattling your bones like a set of steel drums. Rowdy patrons clink cups, chant at their friends to chug, belt out laughter straight from the bellies. You can barely hear your own heartbeat. The sounds of nightlife drown it out.

Jack lurks in a quiet, shadowed corner, his back against the wall. Muscled arms folded, he has assumed a stern stance but wears a small, fond smile in spite of himself. Ruggie has climbed onto a table, raising a jet-black card to the waiting mob. It’s their golden meal ticket.

“All-you-can-eat food and drinks on Leona-san! Long live the king!!” he roars, and the others echo his excitement.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!!”

You chuckle to yourself. First he rents out the entire lounge, then he decides to feed everyone for the day? How generous of him. Guess the big guy’s going all out.

You scan the restaurant in search of him, seeking out his familiar visage. Long, wild tresses. Sharp eyes, emerald flecked with golden flakes, like the sunlight shining through verdant leaves. The scar that speared his left side. A noble aura, his lazy feline grace.

Leona Kingscholar always sticks out in a crowd, commands too much attention with his mere existence. “That man is only good for his face,” Vil would bitterly hawk, “his only redeeming feature.” And he was right, to some extent. Tall, dark, and handsome are all apt descriptors for Savanaclaw’s dorm leader. Leona is all that and more.

Your pulse quickens.

His shape—you can’t discern it from the myriad of bodies collected in the lounge. A puzzle piece missing from the box of your most treasured memories.

“Looking for someone?”

The question is low and nonchalant, almost musical in its own right, yet you can so clearly hear it rising above the bumping bass. Your blood hums in anticipation, already knowing who the voice belongs to.

Leona has slipped into the open seat beside you, nursing an Old-Fashioned filled halfway with a strongly scented amber liquid. An orb of ice chills it, so clear cut you can see through to the other side. He sits with an effortless confidence upon his throne, as though he—not Azul—owns the damn place. You'd believe it too, from how the patrons are shouting his name like a mantra.

There’s no greetings to exchange. No need to.

"I think I've found what I was looking for," you tell him teasingly. “Nice of you to throw this little get-together. What’s the occasion? Don’t think I remember when you were in this good of a mood.”

“Who said I was in a good mood?” he grumbles, leaning onto the counter. “Didn't feel like being left alone with my thoughts tonight is all.”

“You, brooding? Never."

He makes a sound as if repressing a dry laugh. “You think yourself clever for an herbivore, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Not as clever as you, though.”

“Hmph. You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego."

It’s comfortable, this trading of quips. Safe. The conversation flowing so easily, like wine poured. It is the only true way you can stand on the same level as him.

Leona lifts the glass and downs the rest of his drink. From the way he winces, it must burn on the way down. You wrinkle your nose at the sharp smell that meets it. Earth spiced with hypnotic smoke and the acrid pang of sorrow.

“They serve alcohol here? I thought those jars on the shelves were full of tea blends.”

Leona scoffs. “If you know the right people and the right strings to pull. The cephalopunk said his establishment was more than happy to provide for me as long as I shelled out and signed some liability waiver.”

“… Does the headmaster know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Leona smirks, placing his newly drained drink down. Immediately, a staff member appears and replaces it with a fresh glass. “What’s he gonna do, anyway? Sue me? I’m of legal drinking age, and ‘s not like I’m passing out alcohol to minors”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees sarcastically. “And you choose to keep me as company.”

“I’m but your humble accomplice, sir.” You jokingly salute to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Rough day?”

He sighs in a way that gives the impression of saying, Like you wouldn't believe. But that tail of his swings back and forth like a patient pendulum, refusing to reveal his secrets. “This isn’t about me.”

“It literally is.” You pass a not-so-subtle glance at his second helping of whisky.

"I'm the host. It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with my feelings, now would it?"

You don't miss how he proceeds to take a swig right after his claim, how readily he consumes poison, even when it hurts him. Alcohol, insults. Pain, self-inflicted.

He has an arsenal of tricks and techniques to deflect—partaking in vices, one of them. Leona's magic rendered fortresses to sand, but he is an expert at building his own structures just the same. Studier, even. Imperious.

Attempting to scale the walls directly, you know, won't get you very far. Not when he has gone to such great lengths to guard his heart. There's a moat with leering crocodiles, barbed wire decorating the gates, a drawbridge firmly closed.

You attempt to breach the subject, toeing the line between testing his patience and challenging it. “What is it that you want then, Leona?”

He falls quiet, staring at the remains of his beverage. It’s like the sphere of ice the whisky swims with is a crystal ball, and he’s peering into it, seeking answers. His verdant eyes shift a shade deeper, darker.

When he’s solemnly silent like this, he’s contemplating. His next move in a game of chess, his next words in a debate. Plotting, scheming.

"A distraction," he declares at last, in that resolute tone he uses when he’s set on capturing a prize.

"A... distraction."

He nods, angling his head toward the noisy lounge. Ruggie is rallying some of the guys for a round of root beer pong. Jack’s trapped in a headlock, the hyena urging him to join in. They’re rowdy and ruddy from the exhilaration that comes with competition.

“Get my mind off of things. Take me away from all of this for a spell."

“How, exactly…?”

Leona drains his second glass. The server slides him a third. "Let's start with your day. From there, ramble about whatever.”

Amuse me, he seems to say, even if his mouth doesn’t. The twinkle has returned to his eyes, brightening them like the stars do the milky way.

You gulp, feeling compelled to obey.

Gathering your thoughts and wetting your lips, you begin. "This morning..."

The story opens like a newborn finding its footing for the first time: clumsily. Granted the space to expand, you do. Slowly, the conventions come to you. Balance, coordination. Each sentence is like a step, taken one at a time.

You run through your daily schedule and, reciting it out loud, you realize how terribly mundane it is. Classes, chores, chums. The usual. Worry flickers through you—Will he be satisfied with this?—but he only gestures for you to continue.

“Ah, so I picked up this new hobby recently…”

Leona props his face up on one hand, curled fingers resting against a cheek. He watches you with a look that isn’t quite predator on prey but isn’t quite human to human either. It’s intimate in a way that makes you feel exposed even when you avert your gaze, calculating enough to make you feel like a complex equation he has yet to solve.

“When something’s hard to get, it makes you want it all the more,” he had once told you. The memory surfaces like bubbles in a flute of champagne. Then it pops, fizzling away in a fine mist, and it is gone.

Moments like this are magic, you think.

You slip into a cadence, a rhythm. You lose count of how many stories you tell, how many whiskies Leona slams down in the span of them.

And still, the glowing green of his irises never seems to stray far from you. Vibrant and pulsating, like plants with heartbeats of their own, swaying in time with a stray breeze. Seeking something.

You don’t know if that concerns or thrills you.

"Ahahah…” You allow yourself a chuckle as you stretch in your seat. “This is so strange, isn’t it? I never thought I'd be rubbing elbows with a prince this time last year.”

Leona responds with a noncommittal “Mmmmm.”

He lowers his gaze to his drink number who knows?, his honey-colored reflection gazing back. When he blinks, his lashes seem to fall and flutter in slow motion.

You wonder what he's thinking, why he's thinking.

You reach for him. Carefully, gently, as if approaching a wounded animal. He is wounded--in that frightening way that leaves no visible marks, no scars.

"Leona..."

You hear your name being called before you can tap his shoulder. You look--there's Jack, waving at you. Ruggie has his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Wanna participate in an arm-wrestling contest? Jack's the reigning champ!"

"Oh, um--" you try to respond, to explain that you're preoccupied. The blaring music washes you out.

Ruggie makes a face of confusion and shouts again: "What?!"

You start to rise from your stool and turn to him, raising your volume. "I said..."

You stop. Your wrist is ensnared in Leona's grasp, cuffing you to the spot.

“… Don’t go." His command cuts through the noise, startling you with its softness, its contrasting clarity.

"It'll only be a second. It's too hard to talk over the--"

"You must've not heard me the firs'time," he interrupts, his words slightly slurring together, one melting into the next. Leona pouts like a child. "I’m orderin' you to stay. Stay here, with me."

"You've been awfully bossy today."

"Cuz you keep bein' a pain in my tail. How'm I supposed to..." The more the man babbles, the more confidence drains from his voice. His proud lion's roar shrinking and shrinking to a kitten's mewl. Tiny, vulnerable. "Don't go. Don't... leave. Everyone else has. They always do."

Non-sarcastic pleading? From Leona?

You eye him in concern. "Being serious for a sec, are you okay?"

He winces, like speaking or touching you is a considerable effort. You're set free, his body slumping as he lays down at the bar. His mane spreads out around him like a pool of chocolate. Leona cradles himself against the cushion of an arm, groaning into it.

Definitely not okay.

You pass Ruggie a firm shake of the head--a no to his offer--then settle back into your seat, returning to Leona.

"I'm here," you reassure him with a soft push against the middle of his chest. "See? I'm not going anywhere." Then you poke him on his forehead. "What's up? You're thinking of something."

He peers at you from behind an arm and snorts. "Thinkin' about how you run your mouth a lot."

"You told me to. I'm just following orders--don't you like that? You're so hard to please."

"I have high standards," he says simply.

"Well..." You lift a brow expectantly. "Am I meeting them?"

This manages to draw out a bark of laughter from him, however strained it sounds. He fixates on you, the start of a scowl upon his searching expression.

Assessing you.

“… Why?” Leona asks suddenly. No proper answer. Instead, an inquiry thrown back in retaliation.

“Why what?”

“Why d’you bother stickin’ around? Why d’you…” A pause, as if the verb that comes next is capable of killing if not handled correctly. “Why do you care so much?”

You shrug. “You don’t really need a reason to care about someone. Anyone with a heart would, right? You’d do the same for me or any of your dorm members.”

“And what do you know about heart?” He fumbles for his drink, but you slyly slide it out of reach. A growl of frustration. “All I got’s a big black hole where my heart should be.”

“That’s not true,” you protest stubbornly. “Your students say so many good things about their dorm leader. They all really look up to you.”

“Hah, as if.” He lifts his head and slams it on the table. “I failed’m. What good’s a king if he can’t produce results? What good’s tryin’ if all there is at the end of the tunnel’s darkness? Can’t even dispatch the damn lizard or beat ‘m at his own game…

You frown. “Hey. hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that… and stop doing that, you’re going to injure yourself.”

Leona doesn’t seem to register anything you say. He continues deliriously mumbling to himself, the alcohol having wiped away his inhibitions and all the cards he so often kept close to his chest.

“I never get what I want,” he complains, dragging himself up—but he sways and is forced to hunch forward on his chair, elbows on the counter for support. “Never, ever. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I work… It all comes crumbling down eventually.”

His hair covers his face the same way the strands of a weeping willow do. You can’t see what kind of an expression is making. Do you want to see it?

He’s sinking, you realize. The same claws that struggle for a firm grip on the rocky ledge he dangles from, the same claws that render enemies to ashes—they don’t help him against crashing waves, the swamp that drags him down, down, down, into its murky depths. No sunlight, no air.

“The crown… the interdorm tournament... love, respect, admiration... Everything slips through m’fingers like sand. It’s some cruel, sick joke. Must be m’fate as the prince with naught.”

“Leona..."

Is this what haunts you every time you're alone in your room? The thoughts that you're scared of visiting you every night... What you needed a distraction from?

“Get my mind off of things," he had said. "Take me away from all of this for a spell."

There's an ache in your chest. The dull, throbbing pain that comes at the end of reading a sad story. His story.

But it's not the end of it, right? It can't be.

Your fingers tangle in his tresses and brush them aside. From behind the curtain, he peers at you like some stray cat having retreated into its cardboard box. And you meet him without hesitation.

"... Hey," you manage. "I think you've had enough. You're starting to say all this... unkind stuff about yourself, and you're not having fun anymore. Can you walk? Let's get you back to Savanaclaw and have you lie down."

Leona sways slightly. Even drunk, his tone is haughty and shreds into you like claws. "You can't tell me what t'do."

"You're the host," you insist with a smile. The words are his, borrowed, sharpened, and repurposed in your possession. "It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with your feelings, now would it?"

He stares at you, eyes blown wide. Then his lids lower, lashes shading his view of you.

"Why... Why d'you hafta be like thish? This would be sho much easier if y'didn’t look at me like that."

"L-Like what?"

Leona inches closer. He usually smells of sun and soil, but all of that has been smothered by the reek of booze. Heat radiates from his face, flushed from liquid courage, and hits yours.

"Like there's still a chance for me." He speaks clearly and concisely, each syllable a brick laid out and sandwiched with mortar to the next. Pouring all his energy into them. "Like you still believe in me."

"Because I do. Is that so wrong?" You're unsure of the answer--a part of you, dreading it.

Leona counters with another question. It is tinged with anger, irritation. "Why can’t you be like the others and just give up already? It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"I can't bring myself to leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. We all want a hand sometimes to lift us up when we're down, so... I want to be that for you. And it seems like you could use that hand to get you out of your troubles right about now."

His lip trembles. Leona's voice comes out huskily. "I hate that dumb, wide-eyed look of yours. So full of hope. When you look at me like that… it makes me think I might still be able to have you.”

“You already have me, dummy. I’m right here, remember?”

“No.” His gaze is intense, almost pulsating. He has a way of scrutinizing that lays you bare before him, pinning you in place and making you inadvertently squirm. “Not in the way I want you t'be.”

Your heart stops, as if he has seized it in his grasp. One squeeze, and he can crush it. It's a mercy he doesn't, even as you erupt into a flurry of confusion, an inferno engulfing you.

"What?" you whisper, scarcely believing your ears. "Wh-What do you mean by that...?"

THUNK!

His balance caves. Leona keels over, the weight of his large body toppling onto yours like a domino crashing into the next one in a sequence.

His head lands on your shoulder, neatly nestling into the junction of your collarbone and neck. Arms loosely snake around your hips, hugging them, his tail wrapping around a leg like a ribbon decorating a pillar. A throaty groan escapes him.

Panic bolts through your muscle and bone.

Your immediate instinct is to shove him off—but he’s heavy and inebriated, and it’s hard for you to fend off the warmth pressed against you. He’s not playing fair. Is he doing this on purpose? You shouldn’t be surprised; he never does.

His low purr tickles you, his breath feathering across your bare skin. He sounds half asleep, caught in that magical twilight realm between the waking world and dreams. “Is it okay… for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you?”

Love?

Four letters, one simple word.

Your surroundings dullen, the chatter and the laughter and the music floating far away. You become acutely aware of all of the places where he touches you, of every spot where you connect. There are so many people gathered in the lounge, but all you can perceive is him: Leona, Leona Kingscholar.

Your mind races, set to a frantic pace like wildebeests rampaging.

Love, the thing with wings that soars high above the clouds. Love, the golden light that brings life to the lands. Love, the wellspring so many drink from.

He feels all of that for you?

It feels like I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming?

"D-Do you really mean that, Leona?" You need to know. You must confirm it. "That you... love me?"

Silence.

“L-Leona…?” you stutter, lightly tapping his back. It rises and falls, rises and falls, like the tides lapping the seashore. Soft, at ease.

But not a response.

One, two, three.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for Leona Kingscholar to knock out--and he is out like a light.

The party and its twisted beat carry on, the bass blasting in your bloodstream, uncaring. And you remain, cradling a snoozing cat in your arms.

... Ah, seriously. How did it turn out like this?

Upset, annoyance--you think that these are, perhaps, what you're meant to be feeling in the moment. They are missing, not so much as a phantom present. Instead, there's an excitable fluttering that doesn't have a name to it yet.

You swallow, still slightly shaken. The confession, raw and revealing, stirring emotions you didn't think possible before. Emotions that burned red hot, with serrated teeth and talons.

A hand goes to the back of his head, stroking his mane and smoothing it out. It's comforting to him, you imagine, but it's comforting to you as well. Grounding.

You're here. He's here. The both of you are here, together.

There is it again, that unnamed, excitable fluttering kicking up back up. It fans out from your core, from your head to the tips of your toes. You feel like you're lighter than air, flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

He loves you.

Leona Kingscholar loves you.

The fingers trapped in his hair stiffen.

You draw out a sigh. It mingles with the music and stretches thin, a string of fabric pulled from a spool.

Until the clock strikes midnight… Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. That much would be okay, wouldn’t it? We can figure out the rest of the story once the sleepy prince wakes from his slumber.

[chaaistained]

☕︎ visual brew; julia potter •°

marauders dr — aesthetic archive [[ moodboard + desc + playlist ]]

.

.

.

🗝️ you’ve now unlocked the tea leaf tapestry of my marauders dr ≈

like gentle shadows cast by amber candlelight, julia dances on the edge of the world.

always the observer, the dying embers of a fire, the sticky blood-red residue of blackberry picking—an aftermath to the main course—she exists on the cusp of sunrise and the fall of twilight.

but she’s learned to like it that way; rather live like a warmth that draws in the shivering souls of those that need rejuvenation.

and it is in this very act that she becomes sunlight .. or rather the rays of sunbeams that shine down on a world gone cold.

filled with hope and a desire for crackling excitement, yet she takes everyday like a burning cup of firewhiskey—to be sipped slowly, to be savoured, to be chugged at the end when you know the heat has disintegrated but you just need to feel something . anything.

a charm caster and rune master, yet her calling resides in the natural, elemental magic of alchemising the world—the ancient practice of reinvention and conversion—to make the most simple of matter morph into gold, just as she morphs her emotions, into the sweet release of ocean tears that run down the crevices of her face. regardless of what her dear brother calls her .. a flobberworm

a deeply feeling individual in a world where feelings channel the magic that runs through your veins, the power that pumps through your blood. a mermaid cannot change her given scales, much like a girl cannot abandon her inherent disposition—the siren song of finding meaning in the tiniest of moments is like a curse that infects her soul’s eye.

however . she stokes the flames, she keeps her fire alive, unwilling to snuff it out for anything, even the prickling presence of nauseating perfection that is the youngest Black—not even his moss grey eyes and dark curls could soften the sneer that folds on her lips when they encounter each other, whether in a corridor or a classroom, in a prefect meeting or on the quidditch grounds.

at least with every match, she has her chance to soar in her element, to claim the spotlight, to steal the gleaming snitch. she has her chance to stand out from the shadows and become something to be revered, something to be her own.

listening to : julia potter ━━━━─────────────●── ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤ ↻

now playing :

၊||၊▸ mirrorball (the long pond studio sessions) — taylor swift

၊||၊▸ lightly — wildes

၊||၊▸ light my love — greta van fleet

၊||၊▸ falling — florence + the machine

၊||၊▸ to the wonder — aqualung ft. kina grannis

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message ����

this is one of my absolute favourite dr's — something that i've worked on for years (much like my arrowverse dr) and on top of that, yet another dr that has a fan fiction based off of it that i'm currently writing and . yet to post .. oops?

this dr's story is only slightly changed from the fic , following the same trend of less trauma, more mystery and an overall safety net for all the people that i hold dear !!

will also be working on a relationship moodboard for this dr and my s/o the elsuive r.a.b. aka regulus arcturus black <33 anyway , both this and the planned relationship moodboard are ib my lovely fawn ≈≈ @elysian-fawn

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕊𝕂ℤ 𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕀 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕫𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕤 ♡

{A bit ago I received a request to write about Stray Kids romanticizing your stretch marks so I figured it'd be fun to explore which members I feel would be more inclined to do it}

Pairings: jisung x reader, chan x reader, hyunjin x reader, felix x reader, changbin x reader

Genre: fluff

The only ♡ warning ♡ is that for a second you have no pants on, honey & that's all

Changbin is smitten with you, completely head over heels, and he wouldn’t dare pretend that he isn’t. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t find enchanting and your stretch marks are no exception. A man as in love with functionality as he is with aesthetics, your stretch marks are sweet little reminders of the way the softness of your body curves into his. They adorn the arms that drape across his shoulders and the thighs that wrap around his waist when you pull him into an intoxicating kiss.

Chan has spent countless hours in the studio breaking down parts of himself and stringing them back together to create stories through his music. Years of putting words to feelings have taught him that sometimes there simply aren’t any. So you can trust him when he whispers to you, caressing the areas where stretch marks sprawl along your body like emerald vines, that they tell him stories about you that words never could. Stories so intimate, so precious, he feels closer to you in silence than he ever could in words. 

Hyunjin never knows what he’ll create when he picks up a brush but, with you as his canvas, there’s not a single shred of doubt in his mind that it’ll be anything short of exquisite. He reminds you, as the icy water-activated paint covers your stretch marks, that your body’s a living, breathing, work of art. He assures you that the possibility of them extending their reach over time isn’t a threat to your appearance but an enhancement of your already stunning beauty. 

Felix wakes up before you do on quiet summer mornings. He rolls over to find you sleeping peacefully beside him in your favorite t-shirt and the cutest cotton panties. It mesmerizes him to watch the rising sun kiss your exposed skin, casting a gradient of color that transforms your stretch marks into rays of amber. He grazes them with his fingertips and their warmth radiates through his body. It’s almost as if he’s touching the sun, willingly risking being set ablaze if it means being close to you.

Han wants so desperately to make sure that you’re treated like a princess. It pains him to see you suffer even the slightest discomfort. It’s why, after you’ve had a hard day, your muscles tense and your jaw clenched, he lays you down for a soothing massage. To him, your stretch marks are an intricate map written in lavish ink showing him the perfect path to follow to make you melt. His fingers stroke your stretch marks like the strings of a harp, stirring up noises within you so melodic that he never wants to stop.

[tetragonia]

Masters of the Air characters as aesthetics

John 'Bucky' Egan

Bucky was a golden hour, warm hues of gold and amber casting a soft, ethereal glow over everything. Giggles and banters over a sip of liquor. He was a low hum in a pub, filled with chatter and joy. Bucky was a worn sheepskin jacket, familiar and comforting. Waves crash against rugged cliffs, vivid colors pop against a backdrop of blue skiess. He was gentle and dominating, yet he asked to be taken care of behind closed doors. Back arching high against the bed sheet, hands pinned and left marks everywhere. He was a smoky jazz club alive with the sound of saxophones and clinking glasses, the sound of people laughing so loud until the stomach hurts. Grass stained knees. Running through the rain without an umbrella. He was classical music blasting from a cheap speaker. He was Apollo playing his instruments.

Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Buck was a calm before a storm. A misty forest enveloped in fog, with towering trees draped in moss and winding paths leading to hidden glens and secret clearings. He was both silent movies and thunderstorms that you'd feel inside your chest. Raised eyebrows and cold hands, pinching the bridge of your nose. Watching a painting a bit too long before the gallery was closed. Long walks to the library. Winter winds and freezing hands, subtle glances across the room. He was soft murmur of reassurance and a gentle touch behind the doors. Consensual and always asked if it's okay. Dark red lipstick, chilled red wine. A quaint cottage nestled in the countryside with a thatched roof and ivy-covered walls, surrounded by a garden bursting with fragrant herbs and vibrant flowers. He was Hestia tending the sacred flames.

Harry 'Croz' Crosby

Harry was the swirling feelings in your stomach night before a trip. A vintage typewriter sitting on a weathered wooden desk, surrounded by stacks of yellowing paper and antique books. The soft autumn sun. He was handwritten letters and cracked statues. Silver waves lapping at the shore and seashells scattered across the sand like scattered jewels. The rattling of rain against the window, messy and needed direction. He was scribbles and ink stains, messy notebooks, and the tea kettle whistling in the silent morning. He was urgent and hurry, but comforting afterwards. He was everything about pleasure behind closed doors. A disheveled bedroom with rumpled sheets and discarded clothing strewn across the floor, with posters peeling off the walls and sunlight filtering through grimy windows. He was Poseidon guarding with his trident.

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie was a vintage record player spinning vinyl records, filling the room with the warm crackle of music. He was sweet smiles and clear eyes. Paper planes. Overgrown rose bushes. That one song you always skipped but ended up loving it. He was tweed jackets and loose blouses. A field of wildflowers stretching out as far as the eye can see, with colorful blooms dancing in the breeze and the scent of earth and pollen filling the air. Gentle and nurturing, caring and soft behind the doors. He was a giver and always maintained satisfaction. He was pink-tinted blush. A pair of combat boots scuffed from countless adventures. Smiling at strangers on the street. He was all kind and modesty, but also Athena leading battles.

[ylove-bandaesthetics]

Bands & Horror! 🔪

Ash Costello + Amber Sweet! 💙

“Where the fuck is dad, brothers?”

[writingwisterias]

Red Flags

RE2R! Leon Kenndey x Vampire AFAB! Reader

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Blood, Vampires, Drinking, Neck biting, Blood kink, Biting, Corruption kink, Cop Leon, Store room sex, Blood Play Summary: You were eager for a taste and his neck looked like the perfect juice box

Happy Halloween Everyone! I hope you enjoy and stay safe tonight ❤️❤️

Leon wasn't sure why he was drawn to this bar tonight, the red lights reflected on the ground as he stood outside. He had wandered around the city a lot more these past few days; his recent break-up still somewhat affected him, not that it was messy or anything. He just didn't want it to end to fall back into the never-ending loneliness he seemed to always be in before he met her. However, she left him with more questions than answers about why it didn't work out. The bar seemed to be popular, muted rock music filtered out of the glass doors each time someone opened it; clouds of cigarette smoke almost intoxicated him as he stood at the entrance. He patted his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of his police badge as it tapped against his chest. The feeling was still unfamiliar to him, the badge still shiny and new as it displayed his name but he made sure it was tucked away safely- after all he wasn't sure what company he would find tonight as he finally walked through the doors.

Leon almost winced at the volume of the music, his eyes adjusting to the dark vapour wave aesthetic to the inside. The neon lights illuminated everyone's skin, their sweat glistening in the light of the colour they were standing under. He avoided eye contact with all the women as he passed them, their slithers of skin almost too tempting, but he wasn't sure they were enough to hide the pain that bloomed in his chest. It wasn't hard to find the main bar, a swarm of bodies pilled against it as they all waited for their order; and another lined up with, a few lonely souls perched on the stools that lined it. There hunched over backs making them look like gargoyles. Leon opted for this side, his depressing mindset already decided he belonged with them. The stool creaked as he perched himself on it, waiting patiently for the barman to ask him for his order.

He barely looked old enough to be sat in the bar let alone with the drunken fools he sat next to. Boy did he look pretty look, his young innocent skin smooth as he glanced around, and his eyes were the perfect shade of blue. If you didn't spend most of your nights at this bar you would have assumed he was drunk, his posture your only a sign of the fact he was depressed tonight. You moved amongst your coworkers to serve him, he was your chosen prize for the night. Your red nails tapped against the wood in front of him as you caught his attention. The action jolted him out of his daydream as he lazily brought his attention to you. His order surprised you, half expecting him to get a fruity cocktail instead of the neat whiskey you presented him with. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the amber liquid, smirking as he stifled a grunt as it warmed his chest. Leon half expected a joke wondering if he could handle the burn despite his younger appearance, yet you didn't. Instead, he was met with a smirk, your red lips brightening those pearly whites underneath. "What's got you down then, pretty?" You cooed at him, leaning over the bar to top his drink up. Something about you screamed at him you were dangerous. Maybe it was the black lace that sat perfectly along your breasts as the rest of the fabric laid down your body in a dark red. Perhaps it was the red lips that smiled at him as if they were waving a red flag in his face. He grunted at the burn again as he looked you over whilst downing his new drink, deciding that getting lost in a conversation with you would be better than one of the lonely gentlemen lined up next to him.

"What makes you think I'm sad?" he scoffed. You chuckled, the sound sweet and tempting as it left your lips. "Hmmm, you just have that look in your eye. Be careful though you wouldn't want to end up like these sorry men" You laughed, pointing an elongated nail in their direction. Leon smiled, perhaps for the first time in days or weeks; tapping the wood in front of him signalling another top-up. "Careful love, we wouldn't want you so drunk you forget about tonight?" You whispered as you leaned over again to pour the drink. Your breasts were in his eyeline, the red lights making them tempting to touch. His soft fingers grasped the glass as he looked back at your face. Admiring the way you had soft whisps of hair that decorated your face, your skin slightly pale as it reflected the bright colours almost too perfectly. "What's so good about tonight?" He asked, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as your lips turned into a devil smile.

Your heels clacked agaisnt the dance floor as you guided him through. Your hips swaying deviously in front of him, making it near impossible for him to not stare at your ass. He wasn’t sure he was drunk enough for this as you began to pull him through the staff-only door, leading him down to the cellar in the darkness among the kegs of alcohol. The music was muted through the floor, the stomping from everyone's dancing hid your actions as you continued to lead him away. He should have stopped and turned back instead of letting you drag him deeper into the store room. "What are you doing?" he finally croaked out, his voice horse from drinks. A small lightbulb barely illuminated the space as you both stood in it, the darkness almost seemed to act like a shield keeping you hidden. You didn't reply only meeting his eyes, your body pressed against his. "Isn't this what you want? To forget?" You whispered in his ear, your breath causing goosebumps to rise along his skin. “Isn’t that why you came here?” Your breath fanned across his cheek as you waited for his answer, waiting for him to finally give in. Leon's breath shook as he exhaled, his cheeks becoming flushed as he tried to ignore the rush of blood that went down to his cock because of your proximity. Ashamed the action made him seem like a teenage boy with how fast you had turned him on. He shifted himself attempting to create some distance between the two of you, his palms spread out against the large barrels behind him. The dampness of the cellar made the wood damp, the hints of green algae making it slippery. 

Leon’s palm slipped, his body falling with his hands first as he ended up in a heap on the concrete floor. The cold biting against the fabric of his jeans as he sat up a groan escaping his lips. He turned to face you, trying not to meet your eyes as he just embarrassed himself in front of an attractive woman; yet he didn't think it was even possible to see your complexion become even paler as you looked at him. Your lips parted slightly as you stared at his hand that rested in smudges of his blood. It was only then he noticed the elongated canines, the way your pupils were blown out wide as you stared at the graze on his hand. He watched as your tongue rang along your lips, not missing the small whimper as you caught the smell of his blood. "Yo-Your a vampire?" He stuttered, crawling back against the kegs behind him. He had heard about the numerous bloodless bodies showing up around Raccoon City, the investigation was the reason he asked to be transferred here. Rumours circulated that there were vampires in the area. His transfer was now a mistake because not only was he dumped because of the move, but he fell right into the trap of the person who was causing the murders. 

You stared at the splotches of blood on the floor, your mouth watering at the scent of his blood. 'God, he smells so sweet' Simply nodding as you were unable to find the words to explain to him, you definitely weren't going to kill him now. Not when he was the sweetest thing you have ever smelled, his blood was such a pretty shade; you even briefly wondered if you had a lipstick that matched. "I am"

Your words were simple, providing him with no further insight and that terrified him. You could see his face pale, the sweat starting to form against his brows as he watched you - eyeing up every move. "What are you going to do to me?" He practically whimpered. Oh, he was so cute, cute enough for him to be spared from your usual method of feeding. The more Leon looked around the room, the more fear began to creep at him as he noticed the splotches of brown. Clear evidence of dried blood. He wasn't your first victim.

"I'm not going to kill you"

He hated how blunt your answers were, how calm you were despite the way your nose twitched every time he moved his hand. He was practically wafting a fresh dinner under your nose without even realising it. Leon wanted you to answer him further, he wanted more answers to questions he was afraid to ask. “I can hear your heartbeat, it's fluttering so sweetly” You cooed, your tone similar to the way you spoke over the bar. It was soft and gentle, alluring even. He was so terrified as you moved closer to him, kneeling against the concrete floor. He smelled even sweeter down here. Your hands were cold as they took his injured one, your thumb brushing over the fresh wound causing him to wince. “Can I have a taste?” You asked. Leon’s eyes scanned you, he could feel his hand trembling in yours, but you asked so nicely as you sat there watching him. So he nodded.

Your lips were soft as they kissed the scrap, though he flinched when he could feel you suck against the broken skin; even swearing he heard a moan escape your lips as you did so. The sound shouldn’t have gone to his cock, it shouldn’t be jumping against the restraints of his trousers as you seemingly got off on the taste of his blood. You looked up at him through your lashes, smirking against his palm as you watched him question himself. “Am I turning you on?” You spoke pulling away from his palm. He tried to ignore the tinge of pain that spread around his nerves of the wound, he tried to ignore his cock jumping at just the sound of your voice now. His jeans were tented in front of you, but you did not look at it. “You don’t have to be ashamed” You whispered as you crawled closer. He could feel your knees against his thighs now, a constant reminder of your presence. “What are you going to do to me?” He asked. “Nothing- unless you want me to do something” 

Leon found that hard to believe, he felt like he was walking on ice that was ready to crack - one wrong move and he would plummet into frozen water and possibly his death. “I don’t even know your name…” You admitted. He looked at you, his eyes drifting to where your lipstick was now smudged, a small smudge of what he assumed was his blood at the corner of his mouth. Now he was this close he could see the slight redness that rimmed your eyes, the pointed teeth that peaked through each time you smiled. You were dangerously beautiful. “D-did you know the rest of their names?” He asked, his eyes hardened piercing into yours which now displayed shock. How did he figure it out? How did he know there were others? “No, I didn’t. They didn’t want me to” You answered honestly. The silence was loud as Leon tried to calm himself down, his breaths were deep and calculated.  

“Leon” He eventually croaked out. Your own heart fluttered as he admitted his name, you could tell he wasn’t lying with how steady his heartbeat was when he admitted it. You tested his name, the way it felt and sounded as you spoke it. You looked so giddy like you were talking to your first crush. None of them had ever told them their name before, had never offered you more than the taste of them with the sweet promise of death with you. All of the victims had sought you out or other vampires, not all the murders were your own doing. Your feigned innocence caused him to relax slightly, he sat up more, and he didn’t flinch anymore when you inched closer to him. “Can I kiss you, Leon?” You asked leaning into his personal space. He hesitated at first, but eventually caved and nodded. 

Your hand splayed out on his thigh as you leaned in, brushing your red lips with his as you brought him into a kiss. He was hesitant at first, rigid until he eventually melted. His fingers found the nape of your neck as he held you close. He could taste his blood on your lips and tongue, the iron taste lingering even when you pulled away. Your fingers teased the bulge in his trousers, running up the zipper outlining his cock. He groaned as he felt your nails scrape against the button before you began to tease the small tufts of blond hair that poked out from the top of his underwear band. He didn’t stop you when you slowly undid the button, the zipper filling the silence as you finally released him. He lifted his hips as you helped him shimmy his underwear and jeans down exposing his sensitive tip. You smirked at the whimper he let out as you blew against the head of his cock, precum already leaking out over his stomach. You smirked at how his neck flexed as he tried to compose himself, the vein in his neck was prominent for just a second; long enough for you to crave to sink your teeth into it in hopes you could taste more of his blood. Your core ached for him, the gusset of your underwear now becoming sticky and wet with your arousal. 

“Why are you doing this?” He grunted out, adjusting himself so he sat more comfortably. He watched as you gathered up his Pre-cum before you began to play with it against your fingers watching as it connected your digits. “To help you forget” you whispered. “Isn’t that why you came to the bar tonight?” 

He paused, staring at you; it was the reason. How could you read him so easily? His hand landed on your thigh, you smiled at the touch - relishing in the heat his palm gave off to your frozen skin. Leon leaned towards you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You pulled him towards you his cock rubbing against the fabric of your red dress. He could taste the iron of his blood on your tongue. His palms ran up your thighs hitching the dress up to your waist. He wasn’t sure why he took control of the situation, why he was using you even to forget about everything for just a moment. You broke the kiss, moving towards his neck. Leon forgot what you were, groaning at the feeling of your red lips sucking gently at his pulse point. It wasn't until he felt two pricks, almost like needles agaisnt his skin; that he pulled away his eyes darkening as he looked down at you. Like he was scolding you. Your pussy throbbed at his silent domination. Most of the men you did bring down here were too drunk to take control, perhaps that's why you listened to Leon. Your desire of wanting to be dominated seeps through this exchange of passion. “You can taste…but not too much,” He said exposing his neck to you. Your pupils blew out wide at his willingness, he tasted so sweet almost like a honey whiskey when you drank from his wound; you were giddy to get it as it was freshly pumped around his body. You could only imagine what he would taste like as he aged. 

Leon winced at the feeling of your teeth sinking in his neck, it was a strange feeling having the blood sucked out of you. He could feel his body becoming fuzzy, his brain slowing down as the sensation almost became arousing. When you pulled away you looked at him, grinning widely with bloodied teeth. Some of his blood smeared along your cheek as you wiped your mouth. “You taste divine Leon” You whispered licking at the puncture wound you had left on his neck. His cock twitched reminding you both of how needy he was. Most men lost their erections after this, the fact that Leon still had his meant he actually enjoyed it. 

“Oh honey, want to get rid of that?” You asked dragging your nails up the surface of your cock. Leon nodded, moving back to kiss you as he pushed your panties aside. His fingers gathered up your arousal, groaning at the amount that was practically dripped out of your entrance. All of that just from a taste of him? Was it really that good? His brain moved to wander what you tasted like, assuming you would be sweeter than his almost - he could imagine the sugar rush he would get from you. His tip ran up your folds gathering as much slickness as they could before he finally began to enter you. He groaned at the feeling of your walls enveloping him. “Fuck” 

You threw your head back against the concrete, arching your back against him just to feel him that tiny bit more. His hands landed on your hips as he held you close to his pelvis. Your moan was like music as he began to thrust, his speed slow at first allowing the burn to fade into bliss. He watched as your nails scraped into his skin, leaving small trails of blood in their wake. God you were beautiful like this, the light shined golden against your pale skin. Black lace decorated your peaked breasts. Your hair was splayed out beneath you. “Can I taste you?” He grunted, as his kisses began to attack your neck. You hadn’t thought about turning someone into a vampire, the choice was taken away from you all those years ago. It was cute seeing him this eager to learn, to taste you as he thrust relentlessly into you. You felt his hands leave your hips just for a moment as he shed his jacket, the item of clothing landing on the ground with a thud and the sound of something metallic landing on the ground as it scattered towards you. Leon’s face paled as he looked at the item drawing your attention to it. A police badge, one that was very shiny and new. 

He tried to distract you from it with more thrusts, each harder and deeper than the last. It almost worked, until it kept catching the light causing your sensitive eyes to burn at the flashes. It turned you on even more that you were corrupting this young cop, one that's practically begging you to turn him into a vampire all for a taste of you. “I don’t care, Leon, just move it away…please” You eventually breathed out. You watched his body sag in relief as he quickly hit the badge away setting it in the shadows of the far corner. You could see his arms flex as he leant on them, his forearm right next to your head. “You can taste again once I have my taste of you”

The demand in his voice made your toes curl. You wrapped your legs around his waist dragging him closer to you. Savouring the warmth his body gave off one last time before you pricked your finger and smeared it across his lips. Decorating them like your own. You smirked as you watched him lick it up, his tongue becoming a deep red as he gathered every last drop. “How does it taste?” You chuckled, your teeth showing. Leon smiled as he kissed you, he felt the way your walls clenched around him at the taste of your blood still lingering on his lips. Your teeth scraped his lips, bringing his own into the cocktail in his mouth. His thrusts became sloppy as he could feel his orgasm arriving. Your own wasn’t too far either with how tightly you wrapped around him, holding him in place. Hands now resting on his shoulder as your nails dug crescent shapes into the flesh. He let go of your lips, smiling down at you as your teeth immediately found his wrist, sucking the blood greedily as your orgasm finally crashed throughout your body. Leon’s hips sputtered as his release soon followed, his cum painting your walls. You groaned at the warmth of it, finally feeling alive for the first time in years. Perhaps it was a mistake to make him undead. 

“I could do that forever” He breathed against the skin of your neck.

 “Good job you will” You chuckled deeply. 

[sh4wty18]

'tis the damn season.

pairing: ex!jake x ex!reader

summary: running into your ex at a bar on christmas night wasn't part of your holiday plans, but seeing him reignites old feelings. or maybe they'd never truly ever faded to begin with. "we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend."

cw: angst angst angst!!, closed-door sexual content, language, alcohol

word count: 2.2k + edited

a/n: merry christmas guys! this is my gift to you all <3 i've had this brewing in my mind for months and i finally had the motivation to write it. i really hope you all like it as much as i do. i genuinely think this might be one of my fav fics i've ever written

The sight of the bar is a sad one, with only the loneliest souls perched on its stools at 9pm on Christmas. The sweet burn of whiskey kisses your throat as you swallow a sip of your old fashioned. It’s nothing you’re not used to. The drink is familiar, just like the bar. You’d made a tradition with yourself: to go to the bar alone after Christmas dinner every year. There was only so much of your family you could take before you needed an escape. Kansas was never your home. New York was. There was only one thing that could’ve kept you here, and once he left, you did too. 

You swirl the ice in your glass, eyeing the cocktail, debating whether you want another sip yet, or if you could ride out the aftertaste of your previous one for a few more minutes. Jake had always said you liked ‘old man drinks’. You had argued that your palette was just more advanced than his, but now, staring down at the amber liquid in the lowball glass, you realized he was right. You smirk, he always did know you better than you knew yourself. You take another sip, allowing the liquor to burn your taste buds for a few seconds before swallowing.

Then you hear it. A laugh you would have recognized anywhere. His laugh. Your eyes flick upwards and there he is. Across the bar. Making small talk with the bartender. Presumably ordering something sweet and fruity. You look away before he can notice you, but not before taking in his appearance. He looks different than he did the last time you saw him. His hair is shaggier, dyed black. He has more tattoos now, you can barely make out an open space on either of his arms. He has lip piercings now. They look good, really good. You watch his adam's apple bob up and down as he continues to speak to the bartender, laughing politely at something he said. No matter how much his aesthetic changes, his smile is always the same. Big and toothy and squinty and genuine. The same smile you fell for so many years ago. 

You glance up again and he isn’t on the other side of the bar anymore. A hand brushes against your arm and when you turn, there he is. Giving you a different smile than the one he gave the bartender. It was his more intimate smile. Smaller and rosy-cheeked, and reserved only for you. It was the smile you were still learning how to live without. 

He’s holding an old fashioned, and when he takes a sip, you can see him physically holding back from making a face. “Can I sit?” he asks.

You stare at him, awestruck. You don’t know why. You grew up together. This was his hometown as much as it was yours. If there were two things the holidays reminded you of, they were your hometown and Jake. “Uh… yeah. Of course.” 

He sits and puts his glass down on the cocktail napkin you’ve neglected to use. He glances over at you, then back at his drink. 

“Funny seeing you here,” Jake says. His voice is low and raspy. It makes your stomach drop. “Alone at a bar on Christmas night.” 

“You’re here too,” you quip, chuckling. 

“Point taken.”

“So why are you here?” you ask, sipping your drink. 

He looks ahead. “Sometimes… family is shitty.” He turns to make eye contact with you, knowing you’d understand that sentiment better than anyone. “You?”

“Family is shitty.” You raise your glass to his, clinking them softly.

Jake inhales, “I haven’t seen you since–”

“Last year?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He looks around the bar, his eyes flicking between the liquor bottles lining shelves, as if he’s searching for his next words. “You look beautiful.” 

You feel your cheeks get hot. “Thanks.”

He places a gentle hand on your thigh. Not in a weird way. In an honest way. “I’m not just saying that.”

“I know,” you respond. You smile at him. “I know you.” 

The corners of his mouth creep upwards, and you watch a pink hue grow across his cheeks. He clears his throat, “How’s New York?”

“Good… good. I really feel like I found my home there, you know? I’m making good money, working a job I actually like, and I live with my best friends. But of course, then I come home and it’s just…” you trail off. He wraps his hand around your wrist, tracing your skin lightly with his thumb in the same way he always used to do when he knew you were struggling. He gives you a knowing look, and you smile at him halfheartedly. “How’s LA?” you ask.

“Great! I found an awesome group of people out there and I’m living with my best friends too. Working my dream job…” He breaks eye contact with you, turning to stare straight ahead. A look of embarrassment washes across his face and he clears his throat again. “Obviously you know that. Um. But yeah. I come home and… shit happens. I get pissed. But it’s family.” 

You look down at your drink, his words burning in your ears. Obviously you know that. Yeah, you did. You’d broken up six years ago so that he could move out to LA and pursue his dream. You wanted him to succeed, of course you did. You wanted nothing but the best for him. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to watch him go, not even trying to fight for your relationship. Neither of you had been the same since then, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He looks at you again, but you’re still hesitant to tear your eyes away from your glass. “Do you ever wonder if things would be different? If I’d–”

“Yes.” You meet his gaze now, and he raises his eyebrows in shock at your quick reply. “All the time.” 

“I was young and stupid and I wanted to get to LA with no attachments to this place. I-I never thought–”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Jake. I understand.” You smile at him, a true smile. Because you were being honest. Because you knew why he did it. And because truthfully, it was probably better that you’d broken up then instead of having you go with him and risk breaking up years later. Then it would’ve all been for nothing. Now you’d just have to wonder what could’ve been. 

You check your phone, it was a little past 10 now. “Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask hopefully. 

A grin makes its way onto his face, and the familiar squint of his eyes makes your heart race. “Yeah.” 

He flags down the bartender and pays for both of your drinks, despite your arguments. “I can afford it, baby, trust me,” he laughs. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily, it's almost like he’s yours again. He speaks up in a softer tone, “Plus…I want to.” 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, before you let out a giggle. “An old fashioned?” you point towards his glass, “Really? I thought it was an ‘old man’ drink.” 

He scratches the back of his neck and laughs at himself. “I, um, when I saw you across the bar, I thought maybe you’d think I looked cooler if I was drinking something more… grown up. And I knew these were your favorite.” 

Your heart flutters at the gesture, he really wanted to be cool for you. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? “I already think you’re cool, Jake. You could do nothing and I’d still think you’re cool.” 

He blushes again, turning away from you. You stand and walk toward the exit, knowing he’d follow you out. Just like he did last year, and the year before. 

The crisp winter air smacks your face when you get outside. You bundled up, but were still freezing. Jake stands next to you, cigarette in hand. “Cold?” he asks rhetorically before wrapping an arm around your shoulders to warm you up. 

“Can I get a hit of that?” you ask. He smiles and raises the cig to your lips for you, watching as you inhale slowly, allowing the smoke to warm your body. You exhale away from him. He throws the dead cig on the ground and stomps it out with his foot. You turn to face him, and he smiles down at you. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. He rests his palm flat against your cheek, and you lean into his touch. “You always were the romantic. Even when you pretended not to be. Tough guy.” You turn your head half an inch and you’re breathing into his palm. You kiss it.

“Nuh uh,” he counters, childishly. But he’s giving you that smile again, the one reserved for you. And then he’s pulling your face closer to his, until your mouths are only separated by breath. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whisper.

“Doing what?” he asks, before pressing his lips to yours. His lips are as soft as you remember, and the kiss is just as desperate and aching as it always is. Your hands tangle in his jet-black hair, and he pulls you in by your waist. 

—

He pulls you into his childhood bedroom, giddy shushes and giggles coming from your mouths as he closes and locks the door. You immediately pull your shirt off, and he follows your lead, and then you’re both stripped down to your underwear. 

He stares at your body in the moonlight seeping in from his blinds. “Shit, you’re gorgeous” he whispers, taking you in his arms. He kisses all over your cheeks and neck and shoulders, walking you both backwards until you feel the bed press against the backs of your thighs. He pulls away, just to let you get comfortable on his bed. 

He climbs on top of you, as he’d done countless times before, and you gaze up at him. “Hi,” he says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Hi,” you giggle, like it was the first time. 

He slowly fingers the waistband of your underwear, eyeing you, waiting for your approval. You nod, desperate to have your bodies connected from the inside out. Intertwined so wholly you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began. He pulls your underwear off, throwing them across the room into the pile of clothes you’ve left by the door. Then he pulls off his boxers and there’s nothing left to separate you. Just skin on skin. You both let out sighs of relief as he sinks into you, all the tension in your bodies replaced with pure need. 

When he was inside of you, you forgot why you’d left Kansas at all. But when you were with each other, clamoring to each other’s bare skin, when he kissed your neck and whispered how you’re the only woman he’s ever loved, you remembered why you’d fallen in love with him in the first place. Why you were in love with him even after you’d broken up. Why you’re still in love with him now. 

An hour later and you’re sweaty and exhausted and just want to be in each other’s presence. You hold onto him, your bodies a tangle of limbs under the sheet, and he traces hearts into your cheeks with his index fingers. “Please…” he begs. “Let me be yours for the weekend.” 

How could you ever say no to that? To him? You nod, “Okay.” 

He grins and kisses you. “You’re still my perfect girl, you know that?” he asks.

You jokingly shove his shoulder and laugh, “Oh, shut up.” 

He only pulls your body even closer to his, until you’re practically laying on top of him. He kisses the top of your head, “I’m serious, baby.” he mumbles, before no doubt nodding off to sleep. 

The next several days are a whirlwind of movies, take-out Chinese food, sex, cuddling, and catching up with each other. 

This is how it always happened. Spending days on end together, pretending like nothing ever happened. Laughing during the day and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears at night. Telling each other the things you were too afraid to say when you were together, always late at night when you assumed the other was asleep. Like that a part of you always wished you’d gone with him. Or that you were certain you’d never love someone else the way you loved him. Love him.

But all good things must come to an end. For the third year in a row, you knew that. You still forced yourself out of his bed on the 30th at the crack of dawn to make your flight back to New York for New Years Eve. Maybe you’d see him again next year, or maybe not. You weren’t sure you even wanted to. 

You look over at him sleeping peacefully in his bed, watching the rise and fall of his perfectly sculpted chest, knowing that inside of him was a real beating heart. Knowing that he was alive, and so were you, and the fact that you got to exist on Earth at the same time was enough of a gift to last a lifetime. You kiss his forehead. “I’ll always love you.” 

Then you turn your back and walk out. You don’t dare turn around. If you did, you’d just break your own heart more.

When you get to the airport, a text from Jake pops up on your screen:

i’ll always love you too

i'm so proud of this one and i hope you guys like it :) tags for my beloved moots @liseytopia, @quinnynation, & @audr3yyyyy <3

divider from @/saradika-graphics. pics from pinterest.

[ryuzakemo128]

Snippet of

Am I The Asshole? Part Two

Pairing: Poly141 x reader / Johnny MacTavish x Crow

cw: smut, bj.

Notes: Pictures reflect Crow's aesthetic to give you an idea what how she dresses.

Johnny getting his cock sucked off by his ex-girlfriend Crow. Imagine their surprise to see Crow on her knees as Johnny placed his hand on the back of her head. Locking and weaving his fingers into her deep burnished copper hair, Johnny’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as Crow continued to work her tongue along his thick, veiny shaft. 

She stared at him through her long, thick, dark eyelashes. A little smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Studying every reaction he made, every move, every twitch. Taking his entire length without any trouble what-so-ever. 

Johnny didn’t have to beg her to touch him like that. Not like he felt like he had to with you. With a gentle nudge, he encouraged her to take him deeper. Which she eagerly obliges. Cheeks hollowing with each bob.

The sound of her saliva, smacking against his shaft, echoed through the living room. A sweet symphony of lust. A song you could have sworn belonged to just the two of them. Belonging to another time, to another place. 

Here it is. Right there in front of him. You can’t blame him for seeking comfort elsewhere, right?

Their dance of carnal desire. A dance which never ended just because the two of them decided breaking up was the better outcome. 

‘Am I The Asshole if I seek out comfort from my ex-girlfriend because my current girlfriend won’t give me any?’ Johnny’s question popped into his head. 

‘Am I The Asshole if I break up with my cheating girlfriend to get back together with my ex?’

These questions lingered around his mind. As his resolve continued to wane, to dilute and wash away. Like a candle’s light flickering, spluttering inside the melting wax. Warmth from Crow’s mouth around his cock, warmer than the cold reality of his life now. His current situation. The end of his relationship. 

She looked up at him, their eyes silently talking of the connection they still have, the one neither of them denied. Her tongue swirled around his tip tasting, taking his pre-cum eager to please. To be at service. 

Her enthusiasm sent a jolt of electricity through him. Johnny’s grip on her hair tightened by a fraction. Guiding her faster, deeper. The warmth from the cavern of her mouth felt like home. Getting closer and closer to his orgasm. Getting so close to the edge of cumming in her mouth. 

This is a dance he knew well. A dance he knew like the back of his hand. 

The way she looked up at him. The little sounds she made as she took him completely. The way she'd swirl her tongue around the tip of his cock—it was all so familiar, so comforting.

Her hands firmly gripping his thighs as she continued to take him. Getting closer to the edge, throwing his back against the plush couch, the deep emerald green velvet couch grabbing one of the cushions to muffle his deep groan. To muffle his moans. 

Crow’s eyes, an amber honey coloured eyes with charcoal and copper streaked through. Johnny’s hand slipped away from her hair, his eyes focusing on the way the light from the setting sun kissed the edges of her cheekbones, casting shadows over the sharp lines of her jaw, highlighting the piercings that glinted as she moved. Her mouth a wet, hot sheath felt like velvet around him, her tongue dancing with a skill that had him clenching his teeth to keep from crying out.

Working him to an orgasm which shook through his entire body like a seizure. He came hard, spurts of cum shot into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his. Crow took it all, swallowed with a smile, and licked him clean like a kitten.

Crow’s deep kiss afterwards, the taste of his own cum mixed with her saliva. Remnants of his cum on her chin, the sides of her mouth and cheeks. She would have wiped it away with the back of her hand. It would have happened had Johnny decided to stop. He loved to see her marked by him. Claimed by him. Completely and totally his. 

Her eyes looked into his, searching for any kind of guilt, remorse, something he couldn’t quite define. Then it hit him like a freight train in the middle of June. She was looking for any form of regret. Instead, all she found was the raw need inside unsated, 

His wants, his needs denied to him by his current girlfriend.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Gelé  AU Concept

To be clear this isn't the only Au/ comic I'll put the model in but it is the one that comes to mind for me most often.

Bleiss is born into the previous generation to RWBY's main characters like Jaune was in my Prof. Arc AU, also like him she became Glynda's partner.

There wasn't really much to say about Bleiss, not really. She Nicholas Schnee's second born daughter. She had talent, beauty and a fierce intellect. But she was also a rebellious teen with a chip on her shoulder towards Atlas.

After that one snake in the grass tried to coil around her what was his name again Assques? Anyways she broke his nose, stole his date and the next day sick of this Atlas high Society shit she left to be a Huntress in Vale, to live her own life how she pleased, free from the SDC.

And Bleiss didn't just manage she fucking flourished! Made a cute friend and admittedly unrequited love named Summer, the best drinking buddy ever in a Branwen called Qrow and finally a bitch she could count to cover her back in Glynda...

Yeah admittedly the two didn't get along too well at first... Okay more like their first two years but whatever. Anyways Bleiss fucking loved her life, shit even turned out she had a knack for this teaching shit.

though only for Hunter Academies, combat school parents were always complaining bout their brats picking up some of her awesome habits.

She loved her students, some more the others specifically of the cute girl variety.  Gawd did she love putting that brat Coco in her place. She'd have to do it again soon, the girl had been a bit too cocky recently with her fellow students after all.

But for now there were mors important things to deal with. Some fuckers had attacked Amber, she might not have fucked the girl or anything but she was a former student and nobody fucked with the brats she trained, graduated or not.

So she was suprised when the Malachites called her. The pair of girls she trained both on fighting and in bed having been excited over beating Ray's fucking brat who tried to wreck her favorite club. Thank god she gave them a few lessons on fighting from time to time.

Anyways apparently Junior got some kid some fake transcripts. A part of her wanted to grab the suspicious brat and throw him in a cell to interrogate. Too coincidental that someone attacks Amber, steals half her fucking soul and now someone else is trying to sneak into where they just so happen  to have her.

So she makes it a point to be in front of the Bullhead the faker was coming in through. She was gonna decide what to do with him once she saw him. After all her drinking buddy Qrow got in with fake transcripts after all so she had to at least pretend to give him the benefit of the doubt...

She felt a bit bad for her neice Weiss, yeah she wasn't exactly her favorite kid of her sis but still. She always did like sweet, little innocent Whitley betterbafter all.

Then her daughter started showing of her dad's side and the guilt for not paying her too much mind died...

Seriously she left the brat there in a freaking crater sniffling and... And... And who the fuck was that?

Tall, blonde and strangely getting her engines roaring was a blonde boy with deep blue eyes, and a freaking knight aesthetics and a sword and... Wait? That was him!?

Okay so the brat apparently had a semblance that influenced people, had to be that? She wasn't into men. So why did her eyes keep tracking him, right right semblance.

Well didn't matter she had her man targeted and went in for the kill. Grabbing the blonde away after old Ozzy's dumb speech. Really it was less kidnapping and more telling the blonde to follow her.

A lie about boys sleeping separately from girls and he was all too willing to follow. Really he was sorta naive for a spy/ assassin. She had him right where she wanted, in her room ready to get straight to the Seductio-Interrogation! She meant Interrogation.

Thankfully the hunky chump still believed he was in the clear so she just had to act all treachery and respectable and junk while she slowly used her ace.

Alchohol, loose lips came hand in hand with drinks after all. And here he was all trusting, with that dopey sweet smile and those lovely blue eyes and that fuckable fac- DAMMIT!

She didn't think he'd be heavy drinker like her, brat could hold his liquor... Sexy. Finally though she managed to ignore the blazing inferno that was her libido long enough to get down to buisness.

And by that she meant she broke a bottle and he reached to clean it for her drunk ass... And cut himself.

He, he didn't have aura... And then everything came out now that she was interrogating the boy about his aura outta worry more then suspicion. After all he couldn't be a spy without aura. That'd be retarded and suicidal, once she told him how she knew he was a fake he buckled and caved in...

And she listened, listened to the blonde talk about his dream, and how he was denied the chance to even attempt it. How he ran away from home, sold just about everything he owned to get his hands on the fake papers so he could risk it all on the chance to attempt to live up to his families name.

So he could be a hero instead of just his families biggest dissapointment... Their black sheep. And she made up her mind then.

Glyn would've blamed the booze, but Bleiss knew perfectly well what she wanted to do.

So she did something she really did...

Something Glynda feared her doing, she gave the blonde a private lesson... And no not the sexy kind though she was awfully fucking tempted.

But no Bleiss Gelé unlocked the blonde's stud levels of aura and then went full out drill Sargent on the sexy blonde. Most would've broke, hell many combat school graduates did under her excessive, cruel and unusual tutoledge.

It was why she was strictly teaching in Dust classes so she couldn't train the poor soft Hunters-in-training. But Jaune didn't break, oh he whined, cried and yelled, but the blonde as it turned out was made of tougher stuff then his folks gave him credit for.

And then the night was over... Dawn broke and the poor blonde bastard hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. But that was fine, she had a plan, she'd go to Ozzy, get his permission to make the kid her sexy assistant like she was gonna do for sweet lil Whitley when he came down for Vytal and then she'd... And he was gone!

Next thing she knows she's freaking out over the kid being launched into the fucking Emerald Forest! Oh Gawd! She wore him the fuck out and not even in the fun way!

She'd never been more pissed at her partner then she was at that moment as Glynda restrained her. She was freaking the fuck out as she saw the poor kid launched through the air... Then he wasn't cuz that one famous brat chucked her spear his way.

Then she directed herself his way... Did something happen between them? How? Darling must've at best had a minute or two to interact with anyone on the way here?

After several more minutes of annoyingly futile resistance she finally calmed down and accepted things as is and decided to watch Jaune try his luck during Initiation and vouch for him if he failed.

-O-O-O-

Glynda felt very... Conflicted over her partner Bleiss. On one hand she'd known her through her entire time in Beacon. She understood Bleiss even if at times if was irritating to do so.

It was ultimately why she felt secured to a point around her. Glynda knew what to expect from her... Usually. Right now as she fretted over a random boy who she couldn't have known for more then a few hours was leaving her utterly stumped.

She observed him, and frankly Jaune Arc while having high aura levels was hardly what she could call competent. The boy was tripping all over himself and getting lost in thought randomly.

He was proving to be a detriment to his partner. Then they entered that cave and he... Did he fall asleep!?

Actually looking closer at him the blonde he looked utterly exhausted and his aura levels were rather low especially given how quickly they were restoring... If she didn't know better she'd have thought the Arc had been fighting for his life, the. Night... Prior.

No...

Turning she looked to her worried partner and spoke the most dire question without thinking positive even her impulsive, sadistic partner wouldn't be so reckless.

"Bleiss what did you do?" Bleiss avoided her gaze and begun to mumble, that was never a good sign.

"What did you say?"

"I... just... Trained him a bit last night." She wasn't the only on to look horrified, Port, Oobeleck and even Ozpin looked pale at the implications. After what Bleiss considered legitimate training was illegal across the kingdoms.

"How is he alive..." She agreed with Port before turning back to the screen concerned about the boy.

Her previous concerns were utterly dashed. Anyone who could survive Gelé's training more the deserved a spot in Beacon.

-0-0-0-

Exhausted, irritated and sore were Jaune's feelings... Aura, thank merciful Oum for aura! He didn't know how he survived all these years without it. But he was sure he would've died last night if not for the soulful energy.

Miss Gelé was terrifying, at first he'd been flustered when such a pretty older woman tricked him into her room, then confused and then worried when his transcripts came to life.

But all that fell wayside when out of nowhere she stood up grabbed him, dragged him outside and told him she'd be teaching him a few of the basics a Huntsman needed to know.

He'd been about to talk back, not willing to take a hand out even if from a teache- Then she knocked him flat on his ass, walked up to him and said some kinda cool sounding words before she unlocked his aura.

Oh she explained what she did to him. But did so as she was stabbing at him with a freaking sword, darting around the place like a bullet. She even summoned monsters! Just constant pain, agony on the physical front and lectures on Grimm, Aura, Dust and a ton of other stuff he didn't know about.

All while she continued to beat his ass...

Once his aura shattered she'd beat him with fist, kicks and really painful grabs until it restored and they were back to him trying not to be impaled! Wash and rinse and repeat to sunrise! She looked happy! Excited even!

But hey, at least he had super powers now... Aura was awesome. Though right now he'd trade it in a heart beat for a coffee of even better a pillow...

But those thoughts could wait! He had bigger worries. He didn't go through all that just to g

fail Initiation! The Grimm weren't even as scary as that after all!

At some point he must've gone in a cave because currently he was running from a freaking Giant Scorpion!... Still not as scary as Ms. Gelé but this thing clearly wanted to kill him.

Aura into his feet like he saw miss Gelé doing he managed to outpace it! Pyrrha said something bout not wasting his aura but frankly he still had a lot...

Like much of the rest of the day it all happened like a blur. Ruby and Weiss eating dirt from falling from the sky and giant bird getting added to the mix and something about chess pieces.

All he knew is that they needed to get outta there fast to pass and best of all not fight the two giant monsters. That was a plan he could get behind!

And he would've, should've and was sure as hell going to. Until the ginger girl beside him called out her partner's name. He turned and saw that Pyrrha and the brunette he could assume was Ren hadn't made it before the bridge collapsed.

Really it should've been a easy choice, they were strangers, he hadn't even known Pyrrha a hour. He owed them nothing and the finish line was right there! Yep, it was a easy choice, one he didn't even need to think about... Dammit.

Pumping aura in his legs he leaped out towards them. After all what kinda person wouldn't rush in to help others? Not him that's for sure.

Exhausted, tired and only mentally there by a fraction his mind worked overtime. Instincts were in the front seat. And so he listened to them.

He knew there was no way he could tear through the things armor... At least, not with what he knew how to do. But there was something?

pumping aura into his arm he tanked a sting with his shield, the attack denting his heirloom's mechanism shifting sheath but somehow managed to feat of strength to not have his poise broken from the blow.

The Grimm's carapace was thick, to thick for a sword like his... But maybe if he stole another one of miss Bleiss's moves?

She'd been so nimble and quick during the fight, pushing aura into her legs as she explain it while beating him.

It was where he got the idea of doing it, though he had the feeling he wasn't nearly as good at it as she was. But despite how petite she was her blows were heavy... Because she put aura on the blade, heck she even swung it once and sent the energy flying.

It was that which he inspired to copy in that moment.

Pushing all the energy he could into his sword, desperation and determination were powerful motivators.

and from them he managed to once more repeat the technique Bleiss had preformed before him like her aura reinforcement.

All his aura surging out in a arc of violent energy, that cleaved into and through one of the Deathstalker's claws.

His aura shattered, he was out and now the thing was glaring at him, oh he was scared but he had three people with him. All of which seemed more worried about his auraless state then even he was. It reassured him, didn't seem like they'd run for it.

Which meant he had a chance. After all, this Grimm wasn't nearly as fast a attacker as Ms. Gelé, and Jaune had learned last night just how much being light on his feet could help.

He smiled, a crooked, sure toothy grin it's way, finding himself terrified but also excited to kill his first monster.

-0-0-0-

While they were sure Team RWBY would be the focus of their students for the staff the group their eyes were on were JNPR. And for once it wasn't because of miss Nikos.

No the reason was the blonde dancing around and avoiding the Death Stalker's strikes.

Who knew it was targeting him but didn't turn tell to run despite having no aura but instead kept it's attention so the others could wear it down.

"A Fucking Mazing..." Glynda felt a chill run up her spine as she turned to look at her partner. And what she saw terrified her.

Bleiss was unashamedly looking hungrily at the Arc.

"One fuckinh night with aura and he manages this..." Her lip bled she was biting it so hard. Wait, did she say a night with aura!? Didn't that imply he didn't have it before.

Surely not, he used aura reinforcement on his legs several times and even swung a aura Arc. Those were advance techniques, techniques her partner knew... Technique that look utterly and completely unrefined and raw being performed by the Arc as if he'd never used...

She had to do a double take, but, but he was so nimble on his feet?

"Heheh, Hahaha! He can't beat that thing in strength but if he can dodge me he can sure as hell dodge it!" That... Was true.

Actually he didn't look like he was dodging it so much as... Dancing around it's blows.

What was this, well at the least she knew one thing as Bleiss licked her lips.

She would have to keep a eye on the boy for his own sake from her partner.