#depending on my work schedule i might clean more over the next week

[marthawrites]

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

read part 2 Between the Covers here

-

I.

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog. 

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too. 

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious. 

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head. 

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight! 

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there. 

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way. 

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen. 

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door. 

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang. 

Aemond. 

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished. 

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else. 

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?" 

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt. 

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages. 

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages. 

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress. 

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose. 

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

V.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?" 

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure. 

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please." 

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast.  “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall. 

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity. 

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side. 

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said. 

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts. 

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl." 

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @evermorre

[heartfullofleeches]

God I really need random blurb of Pin to quench my fluff thirst of him (and ideas). Speaking of Pin, can he eat? like, can he munch down the foods or just straight up swallow everything like a black hole

[They do have a mouth technically - how they eat will remain a mystery. Here's a blurb with my favorite Yan doll and reader who likes to bake/throw parties]

-

"Sorry... I can't make it."

"Maybe next time?"

"I'm sure others will show."

If only they had let you know sooner.... Or at all.

You always took the smallest thing into accountability when planning. Work schedules, events with family, the weather. You found the perfect day when all of your friends should have been free and sent the invites out a week in advance on the cutest little cards you found on your last trip the supply store. A couple of them had excitedly messaged you about the party, gifting hope soon to be crushed as you sat alone at the dinner table piled with cakes and cookies, and all the other treats you had prepped for their arrival.

You guessed not every adult wanted to visit what was essentially a glorified tea party with no real reason to celebrate, but it would've been nice if they just said that instead of wasting your time and effort. You wouldn't feel as bad if they texted you beforehand, but as always you were left in the dark. They only wanted your skills when it meant something. You were who they called to cater for birthdays and engagement parties - what was the harm in gathering just to see each other?

It sucked, but at least you weren't completely alone.

"At least I still have you, Pin."

The doll's round eyes point down at the large slice of cake on their place, hands posed on either sides of the table. You used the left over ribbon from decorating to make a bow tucked into their hair, keeping their yarn locks parted from their smiling face. Frosted stained their stitched grin from the first time they'd fallen over when you seated them in their chair. It was nice to know someone appreciated your baking - even if they were made of cotton and fabric.

The first to arrive and the only one who stuck around in the end. You found them at the same supply store you bought all of your decorations, but sometimes it felt like they were the one who found you. The oversized almost squashed you when it came tumbling from another prop you'd been checking out. When you couldn't find a price tag and the store owner claimed to never have seen them before, they gave you a fair estimate and you went about your day with a new friend and roommate. Pin had always been there when your friends weren't. You had an entire album full of pictures of your many celebrations together and costumes to match. If there was anyone you could depend on to brighten your day - it was them.

"I'll never leave you!"

Your first smile of the day - all because of the scripted lines of a giant doll. "Thanks, Pin. Glad I can always count on you."

Detangling your fingers from the cord attached to their back, the string pulls once more as you yank your hand away.

"I'm all you'll ever need!"

Your smile falls. "You just might you're right about that.... Well, it's getting pretty late. I should start cleaning up. Enjoy your cake while I do, okay?"

You gather the empty plates and cups on the table, returning them to the cabinets with a heavy heart. Next time will be different. It has to be. You leave Pin in their seat as you change into something more comfortable. Their button eyes follow you from the reflection of a mirror on the wall. While changing, you wonder what to do with the leftovers since there's far too much to eat alone before it all spoils. Reentering the dining room, it would seen that wouldn't be as much of a problem as you thought.

Sprinkles and crumbles coat Pin's face as they hang slumped in their chair. The fork that was once in their hands lies on the floor and their fingers were covered in just as much frosting as their shirt. There was even some on that zipper on their chest you were never able to get down even with pliers. Where an entire cake once sat was now the final envelope from the invite cards you picked up earlier that week. Your name was written in bold lettering on its back along with a little drawing of the missing cake.

"Y/n! Thank you so for always inviting me to your wonderful parties and making me feel like I belong. I wish we could talk more, but I'm a little shy. Your cakes are so delicious, and I'm really sorry your friends didn't come, but that just means more for me! I'm sure they'll come around someday, but if not you know I'll always be around to cheer you up. I love love love you, and appreciate everything you do so please don't ever stop doing what you love.

Sincerely, Pin."

[secretlythepits]

Coffee and Oncology

If you haven’t been around cancer, let me tell you, you can judge how serious your situation is by the coffee availability. Regular doctors don’t have coffee machines for patients, but once you’re in the cancer world, they do. When you’re waiting in general areas, like where patients go for labs, the coffee machines are hit and miss. Generic pods. Lipton tea. Expect powdered creamer. On a good day you might find a packet of cocoa, but not two so the caregiver gives it to the patient who takes it but only drinks a sip.

The radiation waiting room has fancy coffee pods. You can choose your roast or a delightful tea. The creamer is liquid.

The specialist oncologist’s waiting room has top notch coffee, your choice of creamer and a variety of brews. All specialty.

The new oncologist literally has a Starbucks coffee machine. Choose your roast; it freshly grinds it for you. Or press the button for a steamy chai latte. It was glorious coffee and it will be mine every three weeks for who knows how long.

I always get a coffee, because first of all I am an accepter of beverages. I always say yes. But also, I feel like I deserve a little treat on these crap days and it’s nice to sip something and not have to pack and clean a travel mug. Another cancer luxury: free valet parking.

Ah, the perks of malignancy!

I like the new oncologist. He is my favorite so far and my husband loves him too. He is extremely careful with his words. He wants patients to feel hopeful and positive. It would be easy to gloss over his painstakingly choreographed phrasing and forget anything is wrong. This is good for my husband. My legal eagle brain, trained on 2 decades of Law and Order, noticed the sidesteps and avoidance of promises. I notice how he said “some” patients instead of most, or all, or you.

The doctor met with me privately afterwards, at his suggestion and with my husband’s permission, to answer the more realistic caregiver concerns. I like that he prioritizes the mental well-being of his patient. It is very hard to ask direct questions when the answers would be painful to my husband. I got the distinct impression that he likes to drip information. I told him it’s hard to tell my husband he needs to get financial matters in order because he takes it as a blow of negativity, so his doctor told me that he would talk to him at the next appointment. Such a load off my shoulders. He also told me that he doesn’t push treatment once quality of life is compromised. Another relief. I left the appointment feeling freer. A wonderful surprise.

So now it’s what I expected: immunotherapy with or without a gentler chemo (depending on labs). We just see if it works in a few months. Then we see how long it works and we hope the adverse effects don’t make treatment infeasible. Most likely, this treatment will be much less horrific and painful than the first time around, and the schedule seems doable. I think the next few months should be pretty even keel.

All of this is for now.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

This coffee is too damn good.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 5, 2024

I’m still recovering slowly. I never mentioned this because I want to be as vague as I can about my big congenital medical issue, but the surgery last week removed some tissue that affects my endocrine system, and now that it’s gone I’m having some problems with my mood. I have a medicine that corrects it, but I need to wait another week and a half to get my dosage adjusted, so all next week I’m going to be volatile which sucks. Stomach has seemingly gotten better though so hopefully that pain was just caused by those cysts and nothing else was wrong. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much tonight, I am loopy because of the endocrine stuff so I might go on too long. Anyway artstuffs.

I got a music project done. It was for Mav, and it was pretty small but I stayed up all night working on it. Working on it I discovered a big set of plugins that I got somewhere that look to be automatically doing some of that balancing I was worried about. I still need to double check what exactly it can do, since I’d like a widener plugin, but I don’t want to stack my brain over it if I already have one. I have a few ideas floating around for the next song thing, I’m a bit hesitant on continuing that vocal one I haven’t finished because I watched a bunch of videos today in the bad lyrics of the Wish soundtrack, and the lady kept bringing up cadence and pentameter which are concepts I know about but can’t hear. Like, pentameter is supposed to be the natural inflection a syllable has, but like whenever I hear it, I just hear the inflection of the vocalist. I think I’m overthinking it, since she used a writing scheme to explain it and I think the vocaloid software uses that same writing scheme so maybe I can learn through practice? Or I can just write lyrics that match the melody and call it good as long as the flow sounds natural because of subconscious understanding, like how I figured out how to do harmonies. Whatever. Music theory is hard but my stupid will and brute force is harder.

Other instrumental things I’ve been kinda thinking about include a little Zelda medley that I already recorded the melodies and stuff for, instrumental themes for my OCs because of course. And then I kinda want to just do a big fat medley that goes on for like an hour-ish because I love those kinds of medleys they’re great for car rides and stuff. And the final two I’m thinking about would be for animation memes: either an arcade beat-em-up style boss fight sounding theme, or a cover of a 90s pop-punk-rock (idk what genre) song. I think that one would be cool because I could use it as promotional stuff for a comic.

Oh yeah that O’Malley comic! I actually did good thumbnail work on that this week! I was going to do more today but mood and sleep schedule were wonky, plus I had a meeting this morning, so good chance I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But either way, chipping away at it, trying to watch more movies so I can get better at understanding shot comp, watched Kill Bill part 1 last night and wasn’t expecting it to be like, the best fucking movie ever? Like why does everyone talk about it like ‘eh it’s pretty good’ like no that shit was *Phenomenal*! Hoping part 2 lives up to the first, planning to watch it maybe tomorrow night? Definitely before I go back to uni. Anyway pitch comic is coming along nice, after it’s drawn I can either work on the rest of that story or a pitch for the secondary story I’ve been working on, depending on demand. Right now leaning towards series, since I have general synopsies for a couple more general ‘episodes’.

Also only done like one general drawing for comsheet practice hehehe it’s fine I can try others as time comes and is appropriate. Also did epithet stuff but not as much as I’d like. My original plan tonight was to work on TTRPG stuff but maybe I’ll do writing or thumbnailing instead. Or maybe both.

TRGA: got shot 1-4 done enough. Also got Jon tweened for 1-5. I need to clean him up and do his face and stuff. Tonight maybe if I’m having trouble focusing on the other stuff I’ll clean him up, I think I want to go back to that ‘one significant development a day’ schedule I was on for a bit, but pushed a bit further since I have better strategies now. I’ve also started the ‘every time I sit down and open clip studio I’m going to draw one (1) prop’ strategy so hopefully props won’t be as bad in the future either (even the ones I can’t just recycle). Tomorrow if I’m doing better I’ll try to get 1-5 Jon’s face done (and clean him up too if I don’t tonight) and maybe do another drawing. Maybe more epithet TTRPG stuff maybe not.

I’m trying to get my priorities back in order. 1) TRGA 2) Comic work 3) fix your commissions 4) other projects. Inspiration is fickle though so I’m really all over the place. My mood being volatilized is also not helping but I’ll keep going until my brain explodes. For now I’m able to plan out enough with time for sleep and stuff. I don’t know what’s exactly going to happen when classes start but I am taking *fewer* credits than normal so theoretically that means more time.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3263

today was a long day. it felt like thursday,

i got to work just barely early, and the day was full of new stuff and practice - we got practice writing security briefs and FYI memos and stuff, which turns out to be easier than i thought but also difficult because the preliminary steps are imagined. like "we sent a health & wellness check and advisories to these people and then we called head of security in the area and they said blah" is all well and good if you've actually done it, but if you have to think of what someone might say, it sucks. would you escalate it? what's the threshold of a health and wellness check as opposed to an advisory? how far out should you look for a radius? is something else going to happen next? are there a lot of people there? what's happened so far? are there confirmed reports, or is it all just twitter chatter? etc. it's fun, and it's a lot of considerations. i thankfully had kind of a leg up on the other guy, though - i'm better at grammar. 😂

we spent the day writing five reports like that after getting a crash course on level 1 cybersecurity response that the gsoc will be taking over shortly. that was a lot and i didn't hear half of it because other people were talking in the room, and we know how it goes when i try to listen when something louder is going on. :\

so that's what happened at work. and then when i got home, my student had to reschedule so i read some fics because ao3 was back up and i cleaned out my inboxes and updated my calendar and schedule for the next while and depending on how i feel in my first weeks as an analyst i might be able to continue working at the schools one day a week, at least until they can get another math person in or something.

lisa got all of us ice cream, and when i was all done with what i was reading, i went upstairs and helped out a little with some con prep. OGC is this weekend, so there's a lot of printing and cutting and organizing that needs to be done, so i did some.

unfortunately i did not realize beforehand how difficult using scissors would be with one good eye.

i did okay, not the best and i could've done better with better vision, but joel didn't care. he was just glad i cut them out. i also organized them for him.

after a bit i ended up going to mcnaldos to get us dinner, but that wasn't until after 9:30 because we'd all had ice cream at dinner time which isn't exactly the best thing for a substitute for a whole meal. neither is mcnaldos, but at least mcnaldos has a little bit more protein in it.

now it's bedtime, though. i leaned on joel before coming to lie down and i was slightly alarmed at how quickly i started to relax. but i'm tired and he smells good, so i was happy to just be there for a while. so i got up, took my meds, and came to bed.

and now it's time for sleeping.

[irvinghometowndental]

Straighten Your Smile with Confidence: Unveiling the Magic of an Invisalign Dentist

Do you dream of straightening your smile without the hassle and discomfort of traditional braces? Look no further than an Invisalign dentist! With this innovative treatment, you can achieve a beautiful, healthy smile with confidence. But where do you begin? How does it work? And what are some common questions about Invisalign that you might have? Keep reading to unveil the magic of an Invisalign dentist and discover how they can help transform your smile.

How to get started with Invisalign

Getting started with Invisalign is a simple process that begins with finding the right dentist. Start by researching local Invisalign providers and reading reviews from past patients to find someone you trust. Once you've found an Invisalign dentist that meets your needs, schedule a consultation to discuss your goals and evaluate whether this treatment is right for you. During this appointment, expect your dentist to examine your teeth and take X-rays or impressions as necessary. If both you and your dental provider agree that Invisalign is the best option for straightening your smile, the next step is creating a customized treatment plan. Your dentist will use advanced software to design aligners tailored specifically to your unique mouth shape and tooth alignment needs. After finalizing these details, it's time to start wearing the trays! Expect regular check-ins with your dental provider throughout the course of treatment so they can monitor progress and make any necessary adjustments along the way. With commitment and diligence in following instructions for wear time, cleaning methods etc., achieving a beautiful new smile has never been easier!

How does Invisalign work?

Invisalign is a modern orthodontic treatment that uses clear plastic aligners to gently move your teeth into the desired position. The aligners are custom-made for each patient and are replaced every two weeks, gradually shifting the teeth into place. To begin the Invisalign process, you will first need to consult with an Invisalign dentist who will evaluate your oral health and determine if you are a good candidate for this treatment. If so, they will take impressions of your teeth which will be used to create a 3D model of your mouth. Using this model, the dentist will design a series of custom aligners that gradually shift your teeth over time. Each set of aligners is worn for around two weeks before being replaced by the next set in the series. Throughout your treatment, you'll need to wear these aligners for at least 22 hours per day, only removing them when eating or brushing your teeth. It's important to follow all directions provided by your Invisalign dentist in order to achieve optimal results. Invisalign offers numerous benefits compared to traditional metal braces: it's more discreet, comfortable and convenient while still providing effective tooth straightening outcomes.

FAQs about Invisalign

If you're considering getting Invisalign, here are some common questions and answers that may help you make a decision: What is Invisalign? Invisalign is an alternative to traditional braces that uses clear aligners made from BPA-free plastic to straighten your teeth. The aligners are customized to fit your teeth and gradually move them into the desired position. How long does treatment take? The length of treatment varies depending on the severity of the misalignment, but most treatments take between 6-18 months. Your dentist will be able to give you a more accurate estimate based on your individual case. Is it painful? Most people experience some discomfort when they first start wearing their aligners or switch to a new set, but this usually subsides within a few days. Over-the-counter pain medication can help alleviate any discomfort. Can I eat with my aligners in? No, you should remove your aligners before eating or drinking anything besides water. This helps prevent staining and damage to the aligners. Do I need to wear my aligners all day? Yes, for best results you should wear your aligners for at least 22 hours per day. You can remove them briefly for eating and brushing your teeth. Hopefully these FAQs have helped answer some of your questions about Invisalign! If you have additional questions or concerns, be sure to consult with an experienced Invisalign dentist who can provide personalized recommendations based on your unique needs.

Conclusion

Invisalign has transformed the way we approach teeth straightening. With its revolutionary clear aligners, patients can now achieve their dream smiles without sacrificing comfort and aesthetics. If you're considering Invisalign treatment, it's crucial to find a qualified and experienced Invisalign dentist who can guide you every step of the way. By following these simple steps, you'll be on your way towards achieving a confident and beautiful smile that will last a lifetime! Remember, each patient is unique, so results may vary depending on individual circumstances. However, with proper care and maintenance of your aligners as well as regular visits to your Invisalign dentist for check-ups and adjustments as needed – you too can enjoy all the benefits that come with having a perfectly straightened set of pearly whites. So why wait? Book an appointment with our team today to learn more about how we can help transform your smile using this innovative orthodontic solution!

[pupcrimes]

my back is FUCKING killing me but g-d it was so worth it.

[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

hi hi~ it is I your friendly neighborhood vulture here to pick ur lovely brain ~

Ok ok so imagine slashers ( michael (ur choice of version) , asa , Billy and stu (poly) and Jesse) coming home after a long day just to tired to deal and either seeking out or allowing their s/o to comfort them ~ whether just headcanons or head cannons and ficlet I'll let u decide~

Hello my darling birdie!!! I'm so happy to see you here! Welcome to my garden hope you stay awhile just try not to pull to many flowers this time kay ^v^ And as my best vulture I did both! CW: Blood, murder in passing ,obsessives behavior ,Just the normal slasher stuff and slight NSFW, OOC slashers and Not beta read or edited

Michael the RZ version

It's been a long day first having to go shopping for the week then cleaning to get rid of all the stains still left behind meant you were tired it seemed however you weren't the only busy one. Michael had be gone since early morning a pat on the head was all you gotten before he headed out and now slightly past 1 he was back. The echo of his boot steps were purposeful as he shut the door the cling of his knife hitting the counter ever more audible before the creek of the stairs let you know what the "plan" was. It doesn't take long for him to reach the bedroom and unlike most nights where the two of you would lay down and enjoy bliss each others comfort this time it was clear another approach would have to be taken. Michael now stood at the doorway mask dyed red and breathing heavy, whatever happen was not the outcome he wanted so with slow careful steps you began step one.

Michael no matter what is not one to seek comfort or affection it is something you have to be will to initiate willing and be willing to go slow with

Bathing is a good way to make him feel relaxed and if he tired or having a bad day its what he want and its one of the few times he's quick to remove him make you touching his hair makes him very happy

After a nice bath he wants but wont say he wants cuddle's and the start of step two

Sit on his lap and just let him hold you in a soft voice talk about you day or plans for the week or just things you enjoy its a bit of domestic life that makes him warm

turn a movie on and stay close run you hands through his hair and just exists with him for a while now for the best part

Once he's calmed down two things could happen one is that he'll pull you both down to the bed curled up with you in his arms and the sound of a movie still playing in the background letting himself fully relax

Option two is less common but more enjoyable Michael will move both you and him to the table in the room covered in his craft supplies where hell being working on his paper mache mask, asking you for input or wanting you to join if you fall asleep that's fine he's more the content just having you there

Stu Matcher and Billy Loomis

Its not hard to tell when one of them is having a hard day. After a long day of classes and keeping up with everyone Billy was exhausted had told but you and Stu as much more then one and Stu wasn't much better it seemed. Any plans that had been made were canceled as you told your boys it would be a good day for a date in, some cheesy slasher flicks tons of snacks and ordering food was the new plan. Telling everyone good bye then heading back to your place the the boys are quick to make themselves at home Stu starts by ordering dinner for the three of you Billy picks out a few movies and you head to the kitchen to make the snacks. It about an hour before everything is fully ready and with the date night begins with Stu being the first to say he needs some affection after the long day. Though he doesn't say anything at first Billy is fast to act on said affection once its shown leaning over to ask for some love as well.

Its kinda hard to give them comfort together since they both need different things at first but give it some time and it tends to end with a cuddle pile

Stu prefers holding one to waist head on in your neck or on your tummy nuzzling and kiss you having you give him head pats and forehead kisses while also rubbing his back

Billy likes having you on his lap your back to his chest his head resting on yours or on your shoulder hand locked together around your waist just holding you

If they're both in need of affection and comfort its a mix of both with Stu's head on your stomach and Billy's on your shoulder Billy's holding one hand and his other is on you hip Stu is doing the same on the opposite side

Billy feeds you snacks you feed Stu and Stu throw snacks at Billy and changes the movie when needed

Cuddles last for a long time often time it end with you three falling asleep with you in the middle of the two of them

Its not hard to know when they need comfort along with the fact that Stu is open about needing it and Billy will follow his lead when he sees you dont mind

Jesse Cromeans

Jesses always enjoys having your attention even if its for something small however, when he's in need of comfort he prefers you not being around him not because he worried about things but because he's bad at asking for it so he tends to just lock him self up in work. With that its very easy to tell when he's have a bad day its getting close to him that's hard. It starts like any relaxing day a nice warm meal whether you make it yourself for him or order something he likes its a way for you to get close. Tried and angry from a day of work the only thing on Jesse's mind is getting home what he wasn't expecting was to come home to you having gotten the places cleaned up with a meal laid out in the living ready to spend time with him and well he just couldn't say no to that. Its not hard after that to get him to set work aside till tomorrow as long as its not super important and from there the rest of the night can begin.

Jesse really enjoys slow intimacy and when his days been bad and he needs to let go having you take the lead in a nice slow pace helps him let go of the chromeskull mindset whether you know about it or not

He likes to snuggle wrapped almost fully around you with you as close as possible

Kisses are a must they make him so happy many people find him scary with go reason but here you are the love of his giving him kisses as if this is a perfectly normal relationship

Like with Michael two things can happen after he relaxes and gets your affection and comfort however its based on how your feeling not him

If you keep with the soft lead it ends with you curled against his side feeding each other fresh fruit and chocolate watching movies and shows while he talks about dates he's hoping to take you on

The other option is that you head to the bedroom hell pull you on his chest arms wrapped around you hearing you talk about this and that while just ignoring the world till he falls asleep

The next day Jesse will take off work after days of needing to seek your comfort it make him acknowledge he needs a break to not burn out or not to move to fast in the work and the day will be spent with you by his side

Asa Emory

Asa has always gone by a schedule and unless it is absolutely necessary he will not deviate from it and that includes for affection and goes double for if you want to give him comfort on exhausting days. He doesn't like feeling weak and though he loves you in a twisted way you thinking he needs comfort makes him feel weak. For weeks Asa will come home tired and frustrated his class is in the mist of exams so he has tons of work and the collection isn't going well but he wont let you in on it. The best you can do for the time being is just lightly his work load at home keep things clean, make meals for him so he doesn't skip them if the dogs are at the house help take care of them and things like that its not much but he pays attention to things like that and will notice that your helping him. Seeing you working hard to help him not stress as much while still waiting for him to take the steps like usual helps him come around to the idea of letting you spoil him for a while. Once he gets to that point remember to keep things slow though rushing it after that makes him stay on edge.

For Asa slow and steady is the way to go when he's ready to let you spoil him he will tell you outright that he "requires" your attention

He wont let this happen on a weekday only a weekend where he can fully relax and rest but he leaves the rest to you and that's a big step

Setting up a nice date in is the best way to go and though he likes homemade meals on a day like this he doesn't mind ordering dinner that night

On days he can relax with you the first thing he wants to do is cook for you as odd as it might be it gives him a starting point to let you show him affection

Eating breakfast together then heading to the living room with curled up on the couch you read to him for a bit him might interject sometimes depending on what its about but he just holds you close for a while

Tacking the dogs for a walk is the next part of the day hand in hand taking a walking path and enjoy the day whether its cold or hot he likes walking time

Domestic bliss is something he adores its what he's always craved and you give him the chance to have it so often it keeps him on cloud nine

After going back home out on a documentary and snuggle up to him the dogs will be on beds near the couch and hell have you laying you head on his lap while he runs his hand along you neck and back

You'll eat later in the day and enjoy quite time he might want to rant about his class, he wants to hear about the things you've been into lately and slowly the night winds down

Given that he has no work the next day if your feeling up to it he want to end the day by embracing you its been a while and its not something he up for much but after weeks of not being around you much he craves the close touch

It might not even end with sex he just want to caress your body looking over the curves and lines feeling you fully without restrictions till your both tired and with that he pulls you close to him whispering that he's grateful for you love and thanking you for the wonderful day

Ta-da! I hope all enjoy this and a big thanks to my best birdie buddy for requesting this I had fun writing it and I hope to see here more often! To my other followers if your looking forward to the next part of My Soulmates A God then be happy its the next thing I'm working on. Have a great day and thank you for reading! - Lilly Ps you can really tell I favored Asa here huh..

[fallout-lou-begas]

Less people know me on tumblr than they do on twitter so I feel a bit safer using this as, like, yknow, a blog that is personal, and something that’s been eating at me for a while is that the pencils to the first two pages of the next IKROAH have been done for a while but when I tried to ink them I fucked it up so bad that I’ll probably just have to completely redraw them, and I don’t think anything that discouraging has happened to me before since I started drawing back in 2020. It’s just been really hard to motivate myself for the mulligan when I’m already worried about messing the inks up again, and also I’ve been under a heat advisory for the past week and change so I’m already too hot and sweaty to be motivated to do much of anything lmfao

I remember when IKROAH first started I would put out issues every two weeks or so, and then once per month, and treated that as almost like a schedule or a deadline, which was insane! All while working the same full-time job that I do now! Admittedly that pace was only achievable because frankly my art was worse and sloppier and while impatience is definitely still my biggest weakness as an artist, I have undoubtedly improved over time but at a certain point making art better means taking more time on it. It’s created this weird conflicting feeling where art and comic pages aren’t something that I can just bang out in a day or a few days anymore, and even relatively small projects are pretty big time and attention investments. Obviously I could revert this by just embracing drawing more shittily but, like, come on, I have my own standards. And this isn’t insurmountable and doesn’t mean that I hate drawing now, not at all, but this change in my relationship to my art and my art-making has definitely been on my mind a lot, especially as I’m aware of how much I’d rather just play video games or hang out with my husband whenever I’m not at my job. Because that’s a big part of it, the increase in how much art feels like “work” means I don’t want to do it as much in my leisure time. It’s good work, it’s work that I love doing (much more than my actual job lmao), but it’s still work and lately I haven’t wanted to work!

It’s another funny balance. A wise friend of mine once said, bluntly, that you do it or it doesn’t get done. This applies to making and finishing art of any kind, reading books, cleaning house, developing skills, etc., and applies even if you’re sick or busy or distracted by myriad other things. If the only people who ever made and finished art were the idle people with the luxury of all the time in the world, we’d only have pretty shitty and boring art. So unfortunately the only way to get good art or to make it is to power through feelings of overwork or sickness or exhaustion or whatever is ailing you and make it anyway. Intellectually, I know this, but emotionally(?) I’m just dealing with a real lack of steam ever since I finished a zine at the start of May. It’s not like I depend on commissions or print sales for income or anything, anyway, so it’s not like I have an urgent need to be drawing, either, the way some other artists might be.

These thoughts don’t really have a point. I suppose I’m just self-conscious about falling off such a meaningful hobby to me for so long, about not Making Things, especially as someone who generally figured that she Makes Things? But it doesn’t feel like burnout or loss of interest, it just feels like I’m doing what I want to do and enjoying it and I just don’t want to make art as much as I used to. Maybe if I got paid my current salary to work on comics eight hours a day instead of doing data entry I’d get a lot more art done but that just goes back to the previous paragraph lol. I don’t really need any kind of “chin up lou, i’m sure you’ll be able to draw again soon” or “it’s okay take all the time you need” kinds of comments because I feel like I know these things already and I’m just Posting Through It

Anyway how’s your summer going

[hanazou]

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

© all rights reserved to hanazou. do not repost, modify, or claim any of my works as your own.

[samwisethewitch]

Creating Sacred Space

Very few pagans have access to temples or holy sites. If you’re lucky enough to live in the country where your gods were originally worshiped, you may be able to visit ancient temples or sacred sites, but most of us do not have this opportunity. For most pagans, sacred space is something we have to create for ourselves.

On one level, this is very literal — pagans create physical spaces for their gods to inhabit, usually in the form of home altars. An altar is a table, shelf, or other flat surface that is set aside for religious or spiritual use. The altar is likely home to religious items or tools like candles, incense burners, or statues of the gods. It is the place where prayers are made and offerings are given. It is a place within the home that is set aside for the gods.

Like everything within paganism, the exact setup and uses of your altar depend on your tradition. Some groups, like some forms of traditional Wicca, require the altar to look a very certain way, with a collection of ritual tools arranged in the appropriate places on the altar. Other traditions are much more freeform.

Even if you have not chosen a pagan path yet, you may find it helpful to create a special place to connect with the divine. This could be an altar — even a simple one, like an unused shelf holding a white candle and a stick of incense — or another special place like a yoga mat where you do meditations, a special chair where you read spiritual literature, or a special place outdoors. Having a space set aside for spirituality and religion will help you to literally and metaphorically make room for these pursuits in your life.

To dedicate this space to religious pursuits, simply verbally state your intent to use it for that purpose. You might perform a simple ritual by lighting a white candle and saying something like, “I dedicate this space to the gods and to my growing relationship with them.” (It doesn’t matter if you don’t know yet which gods you want to worship.) Now you have a special place to return to when you want to connect with the divine.

You can also build altars to connect to other types of spirits, such as land spirits or ancestors. We’ll talk more about these kinds of altars in a future post.

Though guidelines for altar setup and maintenance vary from one pagan religion to the next, there are a few basic guidelines that are pretty much universal.

For one thing, your altar should be kept clean and tidy. Don’t pile non-religious items on your altar, make sure to clean up any candle wax or incense ashes left after a ritual, and try to keep dust from building up on your icons and statues. I am a generally messy person, but my altar stays clean as a sign of respect for my gods, even when the rest of my house is a mess. If you struggle to keep your altar tidy, schedule 10-20 minutes once a week to go through and clean it up. Think of this cleaning not as a chore, but as a loving service to your gods.

If you use your altar for food offerings, you should dispose of them after 24 hours or less. As we’ve previously discussed, some pagans eat their food offerings after the gods have had a chance to consume their spiritual essence, while other pagans feel that this is rude or taboo. In the latter case, many people choose a special place outside where they dispose of food offerings (if you do this, make sure the offering won’t harm local plant and animal life if left outside). Another option is to add food offerings to a compost pile — you can use the compost in your garden, perhaps for plants that are sacred to your gods (again, make sure your offerings are compost-friendly).

Keeping your altar clean also includes energetic and spiritual cleansing. Before rituals, you should cleanse your altar to ensure that you aren’t bringing any unwanted energy into your worship. Cleansing protocols vary from one tradition to the next and may include sprinkling the altar with blessed water, wafting incense smoke through the space, or using a special tool like a ritual broom or a bell. If you haven’t chosen a pagan religion yet, simply use the cleansing method that works best for you.

When caring for your altar, keep in mind that this is your gods’ space within your home. You want it to be comfortable for them. Like decorating a guest bedroom for a friend, you’ll probably want to choose items that are significant to the god or spirit being honored on the altar. For example, my altar contains a crow skull and feathers because crows are sacred to several of the deities I work with. Take your time to create an environment that will be welcoming to your god(s) of choice. (Again, if you aren’t working with any specific gods yet, you can still create a basic altar — follow the previously stated guidelines for keeping it clean and welcoming.)

While setting up and maintaining an altar or other special space is an important part of creating sacred space, it isn’t the only part. When pagans talk about “creating sacred space,” we are also talking about cultivating a certain mindset.

Just like you need to make space for the gods in your home, you need to make space for them in your life. It’s all well and good to call yourself a pagan, but if you never pray, make offerings, or think about the gods, are you really embodying pagan religious practice? If you’re going to talk the talk, you have to also walk the walk.

Creating sacred space in your life can take many forms. One of the most common (and convenient) is small daily devotional activities. These activities only take a few minutes and can easily be incorporated into your daily routine. This may include meditation, divination, or reading a few verses from a holy book. Even the act of lighting a fresh stick of incense on your altar in the morning can help strengthen your connection to your spirituality.

It can even be as simple as remembering to thank the gods when you see them at work in your life. I have a friend who is a Roman pagan, and he has a habit of verbally thanking Mercury (the Roman god of travel, among many other things) whenever he finds a good parking space or doesn’t have to wait at a red light. This kind of small acknowledgement may not seem like a big deal, but it works to integrate our worship of the gods into our daily lives.

Take a few moments, right now, to ask yourself how you can create sacred space in your life. What can you do to make the gods feel welcome in your presence? Try to think of a single change you can make in the next 24 hours to create this space. Write it down.

Commit to maintaining this new practice for at least three weeks. At the end of each day, write down what you did to create sacred space and how it made you feel. Do you feel a sense of peace? Do you feel the gods’ presence more strongly? Do you feel a sense of connection to something bigger than yourself? Write down these and any other thoughts on your new practice.

At the end of three weeks, look back over your notes. How did this practice change the way you feel about your spirituality? How did it change your relationship with the gods? If there was a positive change, try to continue integrating this practice into your daily routine.

If there was no change, that’s okay — this specific practice may not be for you, and there’s no shame in that. Choose a different practice and repeat the experiment. Keep at it until you find a way to create sacred space that works for you on your unique spiritual path.

In my humble opinion, it’s important to learn how to hold sacred space before you start investigating different pagan religions. Not only will it give you the basic tools you’ll need for religious ritual, but it will help you to discover your personal worship style and comfort zone. With this, you’ll be better able to determine which pagan path(s) is a good fit for you.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham

Following the Sun by Sharon LaBorde

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

[ofhouseadama]

Thoughts don't come to completion in my brain very well, but maybe when Lorraine first finds out she's pregnant? How happy but also scared she is (cause you know she's gotta be) and then her telling ed and how happy and scared he is as well? 😅😅

Like I said idk how to form complete thoughts about a lot of things 😅😅

In hindsight, she knew the moment she conceived. Laying there in the darkness, she felt the moment a piece of Ed joined with a piece of her. It wasn’t even that she didn’t recognize it for what it was, but that she couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. In the eight years they have been married, her cycle had never been so much as a day late, arriving like clockwork every twenty-eight days. Textbook, really.

When it didn’t come, she held her breath. After eight years, she’s become a master at refusing to get her hopes up. She remembers the ambivalence she felt, the morning she realized she had gotten her monthly courses after their honeymoon and she was back at her parents’ house and Ed, back on a ship in the Pacific. She’d been relieved then.

In the years that followed, after buying a four bedroom home they’d hoped to fill up with babies, relief had turned to confusion, then to frustration, then to grief. And it became tolerable, with time and prayer and faith, but oh how she yearned, and yearned, and yearned.

And learned to fill up the space that she wanted to fill with her and Ed’s children with ghosts.

Lorraine Warren finds herself bouncing her leg on the linoleum floor of the doctor’s office on her lunch break, two weeks after the first missed period of her life. And she knows, some heady mixture of mother’s intuition and all her other gifts from God. She knows with a painful kind of clarity that she carries a life inside her. She wonders if Ed’s noticed that she never drew her little red dots on the calendar, hasn’t complained about cramps and bloating, hasn’t brought home a box of Motrin and menstrual products. He rarely misses anything about her, but it’s just been Christmas and they’ve just had a case, a real one. The kind that drives him to distraction.

She pees in a cup and the nurse, in her starch white uniform and impeccably clean shoes, tells her that the results will take at least three days and possibly up to a week to come back, that it will depend on how busy the lab is. The nurse smiles conspiratorially, like she’s gotten a tidbit of insider trade knowledge, and tells her that she thinks she’ll know by New Year’s Eve whether or not she’s going to be a mother.

Lorraine vomits in a bush on her way back to her car.

---

New Year's Eve is a Sunday, in 1961, and Lorraine’s last day of work before the holiday is that Friday, when the nurse from the doctor’s office calls her desk. It is almost, exactly to the hour, four days since her appointment.

Somewhere between, “Congratulations, Mrs. Warren,” and “we’ll need to schedule you for a follow-up appointment in the next four to six weeks,” her vision blurs, and her legs drop out from under her. Clumsily, she manages to catch herself on the edge of her desk, lowering herself gently down onto her chair.

“Yes, yes, I can make the week of January 29th work,” she says, furiously wiping away tears as she flips through her planner, frantically reaching for a pencil. “Yes. One in the afternoon is fine. Thank you.”

Slowly, she hangs up the phone.

Lorraine makes it another twenty minutes at her desk, thumbing through the Diocese of Bridgeport finances, mindlessly sorting purchase orders and invoices. Before slowly, then all at once, it hits her. Pressing the back of her hand against her mouth, she swallows down a sob.

They’re going to be parents.

---

They had just given up. Because of course they had.

But God had other plans.

---

She drives home in a daze, glad that it’s the middle of the afternoon. She’s not sure how she would have made it from Bridgeport to Monroe if she had waited until five o’clock. It feels as though she’s experiencing the world from underwater, from the inside of an upturned snowglobe.

You’re expecting, Mrs. Warren. The test came back positive.

How is she going to tell Ed? She never thought this far. Not since they were newlyweds and she was dreaming of the little clothes she had sewn for her trousseau. She had plans back then, of cooking him dinner and sitting him down over candlelight and a nice meal, and telling him with a silver rattle tucked into tissue paper in a box, or with a silver spoon, a baby’s hair brush. Now she has half a mind to just drive straight for where she knows he’s teaching art classes at the VA, march inside, and drag him into his office like a madwoman and tell him straightaway.

Damn ceremony, they’ve waited long enough.

Pulling into the driveway, she turns off the engine and sits there for a long moment, fighting back tears. She’s going to walk into their home, and she’s going to know which room they’re going to clear out to turn into a nursery.

She’s known which room they were going to turn into a nursery since the first time they walked into the house with the realtor.

After a moment, the tears win.

---

In the end, it goes like this:

Lorraine makes lasagna, because it’s hard to screw up and she’s having trouble concentrating on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. She knows how to make sauce, cook noodles, and assemble layers. Ed likes lasagna. Ed does not like lasagna so much that he will be immediately suspicious when he comes home to find her making lasagna. She’s usually home before him anyway on Thursdays, the only day of the week he has a four o’clock class.

Ed comes home a little before six, his forearms speckled with paint.

He talks enough for the both of them, and if he notices anything’s off about her, he’s kind enough to wait until after dinner to bring it up. Kissing her cheek sweetly, he loops his arms around her waist and pulls her close.

“I missed you today.”

Then he’s pulling away again, taking down plates and cups from the cabinet and pulling out silverware to lay the table.

Then, despite all the ways she’s been practicing all afternoon, Lorraine turns from the stove to look at him folding napkins at the kitchen table and feels such a warm burst of affection in her chest that she can’t not say it.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out, holding onto the counter for support. “The doctor’s office confirmed it today. I’m -- I’m pregnant. Like really, really pregnant. And I’m a little terrified, because it doesn’t feel real, but it apparently is real.”

The red napkin he’s been folding into a triangle falls from his fingertips, face freezing with shock.

“Wait--”

“We’re having a baby,” she says, realizing that she’s rambling, but unable to stop herself.

His brow furrows, confused. “Lorraine? Are you telling me--”

Biting her lip, she nods. “Yes.”

“Really?”

Crossing the room to her, she can see comprehension dawning on his features. This isn’t a dream. They’re both awake. It’s not a joke. Lorraine wonders if she should have driven by the doctor’s office to get a physical copy of the test results. Ed’s always liked being able to see things on paper.

“Really,” she says, as a smile splits his face and he reaches her, sweeping her up into his arms and lifting her off her feet, spinning her. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

She’s so happy, she’s lightheaded.

And she wants to kiss him, so she does, framing his dear face with her hands.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her lips.

---

With a look of reverence on his face that drives her back to tears, Ed drops to his knees right there in the kitchen, pushing up the hem of her blouse.

“Hi,” he says, pressing his lips to her stomach. “Hi baby.”

Wiping the tears from Ed’s face, Lorraine thinks she might never stop laughing, might never stop crying.

---

In the end, they eat their lasagna on the kitchen floor, right out of the pan. She’s half in his lap, and there’s not a candle in sight.

It’s perfect.

[luvteez]

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong​ for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will 

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“ 

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder. 

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

[i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie]

Call Me Mother, Chapter Two

Tw: mentions of blood, unprotected sex (consensual.) 18+ Minors DNI.

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving. Mary, are you sure about this? We can give you a more flexible schedule, if that’s what you need,” Cristella practically pleaded. I shook my head and put my hands on her shoulders, and willed her to be at ease.

“I’ll be okay, Cris. I’ll even come visit on a night of your choosing to prove I’m okay,” I assured her. She sighed, and nodded. With that, she opened the safe, and began counting out the cash for what I was owed for my last month’s work. I took half of it, and handed it back to her. Her eyes grew wide as saucers. I smiled.

“You should start saving up and open your own place. You’re practically running this one already. Let me know when you want to start talking investors. I know a guy who knows a guy,” I said, forcing the money into her hands. A single tear slid from her eye, and I thought I might have heard a sniffle. Cristella threw her arms around me.

“You’re my favorite girl, Mary. Don’t let the other girls know though. I hope this new gig works out for you. And if it doesn’t, I can always strong-arm Dave into hiring you back.” We looked into each other’s eyes, and hugged one last time. She slapped me on the bum, and opened the door for me.

“Go get ‘em, you Casper-lookin ass bitch!” Cristella hollered, as I walked away. I gave her one last wave, and didn’t look back.

You’ll be even lonelier now. Cristella is the closest thing you have to a friend. Now, that wasn’t entirely true. While Cristella had come to be one of my favorite people in the last decade; strong, unwavering, dependable Cristella; the “Nameless” Ghouls had become a welcome staple in my everyday life.

Cirrus and Cumulus were great company, and didn’t mind that all I had in my house was stockpiles of blood and ancient, unmatched furniture. They always brought their own snacks, self care items, and fantastic conversation. Mountain and Aether, muscular and quiet, had no problem helping me move all of my lesser items into storage. Dewdrop was a fantastic hunting companion. His smaller frame and quick wit made him an invaluable help in my last two weeks at the club. He’d find the sleaziest assholes for me to make a quick meal out of. All he asked for in return was to smack them around a little, and to watch. He’d even help clean up after, and dispose of the leftovers. He was quite possibly my favorite ghoul. Rain was great at reigning in Dewdrop when he became too frenzied. He also made a fantastic gin and tonic. There was one ghoul I had met later on, who hadn’t been present the night I’d met Papa. Swiss, whose name has nothing to do with the cheese, was slowly helping me find my way back to my music. He was a talented virtuoso, and a joy to make music with. I wasn’t sure if I could trust them yet, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t looking forward to living at the Abbey with them.

I looked at the card, and back at the seemingly crumbling edifice in front of me. Ivy covered the brick of the abbey. Yellowed, dried grass stretched across the lawn, smatterings of dead weeds here and there. The sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky into blazing shades of red and orange. My luggage sat next to the enormous, ornate wrought iron gate. I pushed through the gate, making my way to the double doors of the abbey.

On the doors were matching door knockers. They looked like a strange sort of perversion of a crucifix. The cross was upside-down, and encircled in a single letter G. The G served as the hook of the knocker. I grabbed a hold of one, took a hollow breath, and banged it several times against the door. Nothing happened. After several seconds, I tried again. On the last rap, the doors came open.

Behind it stood a severe-looking woman. She had a greying Princess Di haircut, sunken eyes, and pursed lips. I could feel her sizing me up, starting with my scuffed Doc Martens, over my torn fishnets, up to my Trivium sweater and heavily made up face.

“What would we want with some washed-up trad goth?” she sneered. Of course Lady Riff Raff would be a bitch. I cocked an eyebrow and looked her dead in the eye. Aren’t you going to invite me in? Lady Riff Raff gasped, and stepped aside.

“Come in?” she asked, completely bewildered. I snorted, and waltzed past her. I wasn’t ready for what was inside.

It looked like Da Vinci and Michelangelo had carved the entire place out of stone. I couldn’t fathom how large the place actually was; the ceilings impossibly high, the windows spacious and stained, to depict unfamiliar scenes. All around me were people in clerical garb, but slightly different. The skirts shorter, the pants and shirts more tailored, to show shape. I even noticed a few ghouls, but none of them the ghouls I knew. I felt a hand grab me, and a hiss escaped my lips. It was Lady Riff Raff.

“If you ever touch me without my consent again, I will drain you without hesitation. Understand?” I made my best attempt to calm down. Can’t fuck it all up on the first day. She didn’t really look frightened.

“Why are you here? I can’t possibly find a reason why the Church of Emeritus would need a leech these days,” she said disdainfully. She’s making it really hard to not lose my shit.

“Are you always this charming? Or is today just the day you decided to ram a stick up your-”

“Mary! Cara mia, I have been waiting for you to join us at the Abbey. I see you have met Sister Imperator?” Papa had caught me just in time. I’m sure the guard dog (emphasis on dog,) would have sent me on my way.

“Yes. She’s an absolute delight. She just has this way of making you feel absolutely at home,” I said, trying to force a smile onto my face. Papa smiled, and offered his arm out to me.

“I will have the siblings fetch your luggage. Tell me, how have you been since we last met? The ghouls tell me you have been the most wonderful of companies. I do believe Dewdrop has even stopped drinking all of my aftershave, you have kept him so busy,” Papa said. As if the mention of his name were a summons, Dew appeared out of a gaggle of pseudo-nuns.

“MARY!” He tried to free himself from the lusty grip of the girls, and wound up falling flat on his face. His tail plopped limply next to him, causing me to giggle.

“Nice to see you Dew. What’s this I hear about you drinking Papa’s aftershave?” I asked. He looked up at me, and let out a tiny growl. His tail flickered impatiently. With a final laugh, I helped him up, dusting him off. Papa looked peeved. Note to self: don’t interrupt Papa. Not even for sexy gremlin ghouls who will lick blood off of your tiddies.

“I can’t help that it tastes like Yule. Maybe he should get a different aftershave,” Dew muttered. Papa cleared his throat, clearly annoyed. The aforementioned gaggle of nuns looked up, all smiles.

“Ladies, would you mind grabbing some more suitable reinforcements, and help bring Mary’s luggage to my study? Grazie,” Papa said. He gave one last look to Dew, who turned away poutily.

“See ya later Mary. Let me know when you wanna see the cemetery,” Dewdrop said, and walked away. I waved at him, making a mental note to find him later. Papa cleared his throat, and straightened up.

“I would like to have you acquainted with the majority of the area before dinner begins. Tell me, how often do you hunt in a good week?” Papa asked. I took a moment to consider it as we moved down the corridor.

“Maybe two times a week. It really depends on how much I exert myself,” I said. Papa nodded.

“Has hunting with a ghoul made your life easier?” he asked, showing me into a large library. Shelves sprawled for what seemed like miles, with books in languages long forgotten, and even some newer ones too. I smiled, running my fingers over the spines, as if they were old friends. Papa peered at me through a gap in the books, on the other side of the shelf. I smiled, and continued on.

“It certainly has been a help. Dewdrop has been the perfect ghoul for the job. Although if I have been taking up too much of his time, I understand,” I said, hoping that Papa wouldn’t assign me a new ghoul. I’d become very fond of my specific ghouls. Each of them were unique, and had a precise purpose.

“The ghouls you have come to know are the ghouls I take on tour with me. Their main purpose off-tour is to practice. Outside of that, I don’t particularly care what they do. However, I want them, a-and you, cara, to be safe. I can not have defunct ghouls, and I can not have the polizia knocking on our doors,” Papa said, handing me a hefty book. The cover was in Latin. I looked up at him, confused.

“What is this for?” I asked. He took it back, equally as confused.

“Do you not know Latin?” I shook my head. He looked a little disappointed.

“I was born in 1848 to a prostitute, and promptly put into an orphanage. Learning Latin wasn’t really a priority,” I explained. I had made peace with my humble beginnings. It wasn’t something I spoke about often, really. It was just a distant memory now; almost like it hadn’t happened at all. It brought me neither shame, nor pride. Besides, that little girl was gone. Not a single bit of her remained.

“So you have always been alone?” I looked up. Papa was looking out a window, arms crossed, resting on the window sill. I went to stand next to him.

“I get the feeling you’ve been alone too,” I said softly. He nodded. Papa wore no paint today. It made him look quite different from the man I had met in the club. Not tired per se, but definitely more worn. It was also easier to read him.

“Sister would never admit it, but she gave Papa Nihil three sons. They were the pride of the Clergy, and were adored by all. Sister spent all of her time making them into the men who would bring our band to the heights of fame. It was not enough for Papa Nihil or the Clergy in the end.”

“This Nihil guy sounds like a real asshole,” I said, breaking him from his daze. He looked back at me and smiled.

“He was. Before he died, Sister tried convincing Papa Nihil that I would be a good frontman. He was not so convinced. Slowly, he went mad, and his health went- how you say- to the shit? After he died-”

“Wait, he died? How did this crusty old guy DIE?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Fittingly enough, he died during an epic saxophone solo. And then I was made Papa,” he said, a little bit of mirth in his voice. I shook my head in disbelief. I had cemented the Nihil guy into my head as some immortal asshole; a cockroach on the toilet bowl; a weird smell in your house you couldn’t get rid of. It was comforting to know I wouldn’t have to meet the guy.

“But what does this have to do with you?” I asked. We turned to look at one another.

“Sister is my mother as well. I spent all of my life cast aside, serving my half-brothers, serving the Clergy. Because I did not have the right father, I was made a servant to the Ministry. But when Papa Nihil ran out of sons…” he stopped mid-sentence. I grabbed his hand, softly rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. Papa smiled at me. Both of us knew the pain of being a pawn.

“I’m sorry. That’s a real pickle you’re in,” I said. He nodded, and moved to the Victrola next to us. After flipping through the records, he put one on. Lively orchestral music blasted through the horn, which he faced toward the door of the library. I shut the window, picking up on the cue.

“My brothers were murdered when they did not serve their purpose. The Clergy has one purpose, and that is to amass followers for the Dark Lord. We do this with our music. The one language every being speaks is rhythm. This is why the perfect band is important. I have yet to win any prestigious awards, and our church has seemingly stagnated. We are far overdue for an album, and I fear the clergy might have plans for my demise,” Papa quickly explained, his voice tinged with fear.

“So that’s why you hired me.” The realization hit me. I was to be a bodyguard.

“Your power of influence might buy me some time, cara. I am sure we could find other uses for you as well. Swiss tells me you have a beautiful voice.” Papa grabbed my chin, raising my face so our eyes could meet. I smiled, bashfully.

“I suppose I can hold a tune,” I said quietly, trying not to seem too giddy. Papa wasn’t buying the act. His arms wrapped around me, hoisting me into the air. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Oh cara mia, that is not what I heard! A little ghoulie told me that your voice was hypnotic, arousing, even! Do not sell yourself so short!” Papa laughed a deep, belly laugh, and finally set me down. I clasped my hands together, trying not to meet his gaze.

The door to the library opened. A nervous looking ginger guy in a priest’s uniform peaked in. I motioned for Papa’s attention, taking the needle off of the record. The Victrola made an abrupt halting noise. Papa and I peeked around a shelf, just out of sight.

“Papa, all of Mary’s luggage is in your study. Also, Dark Mass is in thirty minutes. Will you be attending?” Nervous Ginger Pseudo-Priest wrung his hands.

“Who is saying Dark Mass today?” Papa and I were still out of the guy’s sight, behind a shelf.

“I will be saying Dark Mass today, Papa,” Nervous Ginger Pseudo-Priest said. Papa rolled his eyes.

“He has the most droning incessant voice,” Papa whispered. I tried to stifle my laughs.

“I am afraid I will be too busy showing Sister Mary around the Abbey. She is the newest addition to the Clergy. You will all meet her at dinner tonight. Speaking of which, please ask Cookie to make sure there is a chalice of the finest blood-wine we have. Our newest member has a very particular palate.” Papa’s hand met my chin again, his thumb now stroking the bottom lip of my smile.

“Of course, Papa. And welcome, Sister Mary! Wherever you are…” and with that, the little priest closed the doors. We giggled, and made our way out.

“These are the dormitories where the female siblings sleep. You will be here for now, as we are trying to find suitable lodging for you. It has been quite some time since we have had- eh… your kind with us,” Papa said, clearly nervous about my reaction. I can’t say I wasn’t a little peeved.

“Do the ghouls also share? I mean, I’m 173 years old. The ghouls are ancient beings. Can’t I stay with them?” I had grown accustomed to my space. It had been a while since I’d had a coven, and honestly, I was expecting this to already be taken care of. Papa looked uneasy.

“The ghouls have their own places within the Abbey, but they share several common areas. We would have put you with the ghouls, but some of them aren’t accustomed to…”

“You can say vampire. I’m a freakin vampire. It’s not a bad word,” I said. Why did people act like it was some big deal? Satanists and vampires were no strangers to one another.

“There was a great falling out with Sister Imperator and the Vampires. She does not speak of it. I apologize if she causes you any trouble,” Papa said apologetically. I smiled, excluding my teeth, to show that there was no bad blood. That is the worst fucking pun. Note to self, jump off a cliff later.

“It will only be temporary. Most of the vacant rooms in the Abbey have been vacant for a long while, and need attention. So finding you the perfect room has proven to be difficult. But I promise tesoro, this is only temporary. Now, there is a matter we need to discuss. Will you come to my study?”

“No. Not no, but fuck no. I’m not wearing this,” I said angrily. The Mary in the mirror looked like a cheap Halloween Party City version of a sexy nun. I absolutely hated it. Papa put his hands on my waist, trying to calm me down.

“In order for us to avoid the Clergy’s suspicions, I need you to at least look the part,” he said, straightening my wimple. I tore it off of my head.

“I didn’t realize I had to play some compliant little church mouse though! This is degrading! I’m a fuck-mothering vampire, and I killed a lot of people for that title. I cannot walk around in this shit.” I began taking the rest of the get up off. Papa began picking up the pieces I flung to the floor, frantically trying to return them to me.

“Please! They need to believe you are a Sibling of Sin,” he pleaded. I stood before him, clad only in the lacy bralette and panties I had come to the Abbey with. His eyes roamed over me, making trips up and down my body. I crossed my arms.

“Why would they believe I was a Sibling if I were getting my own room?” Papa smiled, handing me my fishnets. I slowly began to put them on, letting him explain.

“Papas have been known to take a lover. Or even lovers. They are usually gifted with their own chambers,” he said. He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close. The realization hit me suddenly.

“So the plan was to have me stay in the dorms all along! You lied!” I pushed him away.

“I said it was temporary, cara!” Papa exclaimed. I grabbed the stupid habit, throwing it on over my ‘nets, slipping into my Docs. Furiously, I stuffed my previously perfectly teased hair into the loathsome wimple, pulling it to rest right before my hairline.

“Cara mia, please. It is difficult to ask for such help. I need you to do this, otherwise, our plan might fail,” he pleaded once again.

“What if I don’t? What would you do?” I asked. Papa gave me a most devious smile.

“I might have to persuade you, my little bat,” he said, stalking towards me. He continued towards me, until I was backed against the desk. I moved to sit atop it as he leaned into me.

“And uh, how might you do that, Papa?” Our noses touched, and he grabbed my chin. Heat pooled between my legs. Not gonna lie, this is kind of hot, I thought. Papa turned my head, and pulled the wimple back off. Slowly, he began to press kisses into my neck.

“I have been told I have a talented tongue, little bat. Now open your legs for Papa,” He growled. His deft hands hiked up my skirt, as I popped my garter straps and pushed my panties to the floor. I helped him cast his suspenders to the side, giving him more range of motion.

“You are not used to being hunted, eh?” Papa asked, pressing kisses to my netted legs. I whimpered softly, not used to being attended to by a mortal. Even though I’d recently fed, I couldn’t ignore the delicious smell of his blood rushing excitedly. I tried to quell the feeling of my fangs pushing through my gums, instead focusing on Papa’s expert tongue.

Right then, his tongue was tracing my now soaking wet folds. Another whimper left my lips. Papa sighed, and stood, my discarded panties in his hand.

“Now that won’t do, Sister Mary. We have a Clergy to convince. If they were to catch us like this, so soon… I’m sure they would know something is up. So for now, say ‘ah!’” He held my panties up. I reluctantly opened my mouth, and he stuffed my panties in. Rolling my eyes, I gestured to the floor. Papa laughed.

“Patience, Sister Mary. Patience is a virtue,” he said, the last bit muffled, due to his tongue being buried in my pussy. I bit down on the fabric of my panties, trying not to make a sound. It was no forked ghoul tongue, but it was still fantastic. While I was lost in the throes of ecstasy, Papa had added not one, but two fingers to the mix. Those deft fingers massaged my g-spot, wringing out a hard and fast orgasm from me. I clenched around his fingers, drenching his hand and chin. Papa came out from under my skirt, chuckling.

“Oh Sister, I think you will be one of my most favorite additions to the Clergy. Can you bend over the desk for Papa?” He asked softly, wiping my juices from his face. I quickly hopped from the desk, turning to bend over it. As I gripped the desktop, I heard the tell-tale sound of a belt buckle being undone, and the sound of Papa spitting. I looked over my shoulder, panties still in my mouth. Papa was stroking his cock, stepping back towards me.

“Eyes front, Sister. I’m not quite finished,” he said, smacking my ass. I could wear a habit for this, I guess. I thought. The head of Papa’s cock pressed into my folds, filling and stretching me. I moaned around the panty-gag, stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, slowly pulling out, only to slam back into me. His hands moved to my waist, manipulating me to match his relentless pace. It was mere moments before a knock sounded at the door.

“Copia, dinner is in ten minutes! You and that little leech better not be late!” Sister Imperator’s voice crowed. Papa didn’t falter once.

“COMING!” he shouted. And then he did.

We all sat at a long table at the head of the room. Imagine Hogwarts, but Satanic and churchy. At the table., Papa sat in the middle, Sister Imperator to his left, me to his right. Various Clergy members and ghouls flanked from either side, filling the rest of the table. Papa raised his glass, tapping it gently with a knife. The roar in the hall barely went down. Sister Imperator tried with her glass, to no avail. Finally, I bowed my head piously, and focused on the closest rows of tables.

SHUT THE FUCK UP. I practically had to shout it in my mind, but it worked, with only a small whisper. A few siblings in the front rows looked around, and quieted their counterparts. Papa smiled, and held up his hands. Sister gave me a strange, quizzical look. I smiled, knowingly, and bowed my head in mock-piety.

“Tonight,” began Papa, “We have a special guest! She has come from one of the other Satanic Ministries, and will be joining us permanently, due to an overflow of personnel at her previous abbey. Sister Mary, will you please stand?” I stood, Papa taking one of my hands in his.

“I would like for all of you to be kind, and welcome her as you once were welcomed. It is hard for one to leave one’s home, with no familiar faces to be found, is it not?” Papa’s voice resounded across the hall. Several of the siblings and ghouls nodded, focusing their attention back on me. One sour sibling in the front row caught my eye. Her thoughts were loud as fuck, as if she wanted me to hear. Images of me on my knees taking dick after dick to the mouth flooded my head. It was clear what she thought of me. Without hesitation, I willed her to pick up one of the baguettes waiting to be sliced. Everyone turned their attention to her, not seeing the wild grin on my face. Once again, I willed her to move. She began hitting herself over the head with the baguette. Dry thumps resounded through the hall, crust flying, her face screwed up in terror. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

I heard a small snicker come from Sister Imperator. Does this thunder-cunt have a sense of humor? Unholy SHIT! I’d had enough. I’m sure the stupid simpering bitch in the front had had her fill as well. With a terrified shriek, the woman chucked the baguette as if it were possessed. I covered my mouth to keep a laugh from busting out. Papa stepped on my foot. I winced, and bent my head back down piously.

“Uhhhh, with that, I suppose we can now eat our dinner. Enjoy!” Papa sat.

“Are you mad?” He whisper-shouted at me. I giggled.

“She disrespected me,” I said, in a Godfather-esque accent. Papa shook his head.

“Never again. That’s not what I brought you here for,” he hissed. I nodded, and drank from the chalice Papa had ordered to be present for me. All work and no play, I guess.

After dinner, I followed the stampede of siblings back to the dormitories. Before I could leave the hall, two pairs of hands pulled me to the back of the crowd. I lashed about, only to find a giggling pair of ghouls. To my surprise, it was Swiss and Dew. I pulled them into a hug, happy to finally have some friends around instead of employers.

“Fuck Mary! That stunt you pulled on that bitch Charity! I nearly pissed my pants!” Dewdrop howled. Swiss smacked him upside the head, causing Dew to flatten his ears.

“Maaaaybee if someone hadn’t drunk eight liters of Mr. Pibb, they wouldn’t need to piss so bad!” Swiss chastised. Dew and I cracked up. Dew suddenly grabbed his crotch.

“Speaking of which, let’s get to the cemetery! I gotta take a leak!” He took off, leaving Swiss and I behind.

“Does he always pee on burial grounds?” I asked, trying not to leave Swiss in the dust. He huffed, trying to elongate his strides.

“No! Just a specific one!” He managed to puff out. As we approached the cemetery, I saw Dew’s silhouette near a looming statue. I moved closer, trying to read the inscription.

Here lies the body of Papa Nihil, read the inscription, along with a bunch of dates and Latin. I looked to the ghouls. Both of them had their arms crossed, tails twitching in agitation.

“What reason do y’all have to hate him? I get that he was a dick, but-” I started. Dewdrop cut me off.

“He tried to get rid of Copia. If Copia isn’t leading the band, then we don’t have a purpose,” Dewdrop said. I was lost.

“But the other ghouls just serve the Clergy. Wouldn’t you all do the same?” I asked. Swiss shook his head.

“We were summoned with the express intent of serving Copia, and playing in the band. If we don’t do that, then we have failed. Failed ghouls get sent back to Hell,” Swiss explained. Dew kicked a rock at the monument. I was still lost.

“But you’re stronger in Hell. Why is that a bad thing?” Swiss grabbed his head in disbelief. Dew sighed.

“Mary, we wouldn’t be worth anything in the Dark Lord’s eyes. We would go back to Hell to be torn apart. Mountain’s witnessed it. That’s why he doesn’t talk much. Why do you think we were all so eager to help you settle in? You’re the only thing keeping us from getting violently obliterated by the Dark Lord himself.” Dew looked legitimately frightened. A dull ache settled in my chest. I knew it was too good to be true.

“I thought you all liked me. Like, you wanted to be my friend. I didn’t realize I was just here to save everyone’s asses,” I said bitterly. Swiss grabbed my hand, and Dew shook his head.

“Mary, we decided from night one that you were going to be our friend. Well, a friend with a tight ass, if you know what I mean,” Dew growled, lustily. “The fact that you’re keeping us all safe is just the cherry on top of the macaroni.” I looked up confused from the embrace Swiss had locked me in.

“Macaroni?” I questioned softly. Swiss put a hand on my head, pulling me back into the hug.

“It’s a Dewdrop thing. Don’t try to understand it. You will fail miserably,” Swiss whispered. I nodded.

Dew and Swiss reluctantly brought me back to the dorms. I had to actually play along with Copia’s plan, if I was going to keep these goobers alive. Otherwise, I would have joined the ghoul snuggle puddle. I opened the door to the suite with the key Papa had given me earlier. Three other girls on individual beds looked at me, mouths agape. The ghouls bolted inside.

I threw my wimple on the floor, stripping down to my underwear. Dew bounced on my bed, Swiss whacking him with my pillow. One of the girls cleared her throat.

“You’re Sister Mary? From the sister church?” she asked, clearly shaken. I nodded, and leaped on top of Dew, cackling.

“GERROFF ME MARYYY,” he wailed. Swiss and I continued cackling, joined now by the girls. Dew pushed me off, and then grabbed one of my boobs.

“Honk,” he deadpanned, with a squeeze. I pushed him off.

“Okay boys, OUT! I gotta get my shit together!” I chased the ghouls out with my pillow and wimple. They left, cackling all the way. I shut the door behind them, throwing everything back on my bed. One of the girls, a tall black willowy girl, whistled low.

“How did you bag not one, but TWO of Copia’s personal ghouls?” she asked, absolutely stunned. The other two girls leaned in, listening intently.

“Bag? I didn’t bag them. We’re just friends. We got close while I was moving from the other Clergy.

“FRIENDS? They won’t even talk to us siblings half of the time. You have to be pretty important for them to notice you,” the mousy brunette chimed. I shrugged.

“Well, I am a vampire,” I said. “Maybe that’s why they like me.” The girls gasped, completely surprised.

“Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ vampire. So don’t open these fuckin’ curtains before sundown, or you’ll be slathering me with aloe vera.”

@sisterelizxbeth I finally finished it! Hope you enjoy!

@gasolineghuleh thanks for all of your help and encouragement as per usual!